The first one being Joseph Travers.
This encounter is going to be fun.
His office is in a prime location in the heart of Charlotte. Despite the collapse of the company, Joseph, like my father, was able to bounce back from the fallout.
He’s done considerably well. The lobby in his office building is incredibly impressive. Black marble walls, a waterfall, and, if I were anyone else, an intimidating, multi-staffed front desk.
“I'm here to see Joseph Travers,” I tell a young, blonde woman hanging up the phone.
“Do you have an appointment?” She bats her pretty eyes and smiles.
“No.”
Her expression falls.
“Well, I'm sorry, sir, no one sees Mr. Travers without an appointment.”
Of course not. I was expecting this. I lean forward on the desk and in a smooth, firm tone inform her, “He’ll see me.”
She frowns.
“Just pick up the phone, dial the magic extension, and tell him Ty Winters is here to see him.”
“I—”
“No,” I interrupt her. “Please, just do it.”
She glares at me like I’m wasting her time. If Joseph refuses to see me, I'll march my ass up there regardless. I'm just trying to play nice. I’m more than willing to play dirty if I have to.
The secretary picks up the phone, presses a button and waits.
“Hi, this is Perry from reception. There is a Mr. Ty Winters here to see Mr. Travers.” She gazes up at me. “Un-huh. Yes. Okay. Really?” Her brown eyes widen. “I'll send him up.”
Victory. I smile smugly.
“Mr. Travers will see you.”
“Told you he would.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Sixth floor, right out of the elevators.”
“Thank you.”
She purses her lips but doesn't entertain me with a verbal response.
Whatever.
I make my way up to the sixth floor, adjusting my tie and preparing for war. Just because he agreed to see me doesn't mean this engagement is going to be pleasant.
The elevator doors ding, and I’m met with more sleek, black marble and an older woman with white hair sitting behind a large desk right next to an impressively large window.
“Well, Ty Winters, as I live and breathe.” It takes me a moment to realize who the woman is, but when I do, I'm flooded with fond memories.
“Caroline.” Caroline Tiegs worked for Winters Travers for years. She would always let me play under her desk and sneak me chocolate when my parents weren’t looking.
“It's so good to see you, honey.” She stands and hugs me. “What a handsome man you grew up to be.” She holds my face in her hands. She’s still as warm and genuine as I remember her.
“Thank you. It's really great to see you, too.” I smile broadly. “I can't believe the old man still has you working.”
“I can't give it up.” She waves me off. “I'll shrivel up and die at home all alone.”
“Alone? What happened to Pete?”
Caroline’s whole demeanor changes. “We lost Pete a few years back. It's just me and Buster now.”
“Your dog?”
“No, Joseph.” She thumbs to the door behind us.
I laugh. Caroline always did have the best sense of humor.
“Speaking of, can I see him now?”
“About that.” She rings her hands together.
“He’s not here?”
“Oh, he is. I just didn't tell him you were. I wanted you up here when I marched you in.”
“Good tactic.”
“I needed someone to protect me for letting you past the gatekeepers.” She winks.
I chuckle. “Let's not put off the inevitable.”
Caroline knocks on the door, then opens it when Joseph voices, “Come in.”
“Joe, there’s someone here to see you.” She sticks her head in first.
“Who?” I hear him ask. That’s when she fully opens the door and I get a good look at the bald man behind a large, wooden desk peering at us over his cheaters.
Instant irritation appears on his face. “What the hell do you want?”
“To see you.”
“You wasted a trip. Get lost!” he snaps.
“Joseph,” Caroline scolds.
“I know why he’s here, Caroline. He upset Simone, and now he's here to do even more damage.”
“I'm not sure what she told you, Joseph—” I begin with reason.
“She's upset. That’s all I need to know.”
“And that’s why I'm here. I need insight, and you’re the only one who can give it to me.” I slip past Caroline. “Just give me five minutes. If you don't like what I have to say, I'll leave quietly.”
“Winters’ don't do anything quietly,” he grunts passive-aggressively.
I understand where his resentment stems from. After the split of the company, my father just had to add fuel to the fire and drag Joseph's name through the mud. Everything fell apart because of Alfonzo, but because they were brothers, my father didn't discriminate. Almost losing his company nearly destroyed him, and he wanted to send a message that when you mess with a Winters, you pay a hefty price. And Joseph did.
“You have three minutes. Sit,” he orders sternly.
I get right down to it. Joseph is my only chance for finding Simone, so I need to sway him to my side.
“Look, I'm just going to come right out and say it. No beating around the bush. I'm in love with Simone. It's not just some fling or conquest. I have been in love with her since New Year’s Eve.”
Joseph's jaw ticks. I don't think that’s what he wanted to hear. But isn't honesty the best policy? “I thought things were going in a good direction, but then we had a moment, and she kinda freaked out. I just want to talk to her. I want to make things right. I know she has issues, but maybe if she confides in me, we can work past them.” The last sentence is the most genuine of my life. I want nothing more than to work past whatever issues Simone has. I just want to be with her. No matter what it is.
Joseph exhales, tossing his reading glasses onto the desk. Did I make some headway? Or is he about to go ape-shit on me?
“Listen, son. Coming here and confronting me is commendable, but you’re right. Simone does have some serious issues,” he shares solemnly. “When I first met her, she was a bundle of energy, always smiling, in good spirits, and up for any challenge. Despite all of Alfonzo’s faults, she really was the apple of his eye for the short time he was in her life. And when he passed, I took on the role of surrogate father.”
“Which is why you’re so protective of her,” I add, slowly but surely snapping the puzzle pieces together.
“Partially, yes.”
“What’s the other part?” I’m completely invested now.
The hesitation is clear on Joseph’s face; he doesn’t want to betray Simone’s trust. “Joseph, please, you are the only person who can help me,” I press. “If I don’t know, I can’t handle it the right way. Don’t you want to see Simone happy? I know I do, and I want to be the man to do that every single day.”
Joseph narrows his eyes. “You really do care about her?” The inquiry is suspicious.
“I just told you I love her,” I state with utmost confidence.
“I don’t think she can handle another broken heart, Ty. That girl, she’s been through the ringer.”
“How so? Please, just tell me.” I’m desperate for answers now. Simone being so close, knowing she’s in arm’s reach, I’m starting to get antsy. I just want to see her.
“Three years ago,” Joseph begins, “Simone was deployed. She was stationed on this little satellite base in the middle of nowhere. A convoy had been hit, and there were injuries. She was there to assist.” He inhales and exhales heavily. It’s evident telling this story is just as hard for him as it would be for Simone. My pulse pounds in my neck. “There was a night attack. Rocket launchers or something breached the perimeter. Simone’s shelte
r caught fire. She almost died of smoke inhalation, but the fire was contained, and she was pulled out. But. . .” He clears his throat, raw with emotion. “She was burned badly.”
“How badly? And where?”
“Third degree burns on her arm and side. She was in ICU for weeks and underwent several skin grafts to repair the damage. But it was too great. She’s permanently scarred.”
“That’s what she wouldn’t tell me? I don’t care about a few scars,” I nearly explode. I know I have a reputation for being cold, but it’s only when it comes to business. I’m capable of being human, too. I tried to show that side of me to Simone. I thought it was working for a minute.
“It’s so much more than physical scars. Simone was engaged to a man named Seth Morrison.”
“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”
“Probably not, but in this area, the family is well known. Old money, public persona, and big business.”
“So, what happened?”
“When Simone finally returned home, she and Seth tried to make it work, but he was having trouble accepting what happened. Several weeks before the wedding, he broke it off. He told her he wasn't attracted to her anymore, and basically, to paraphrase the asshole, being intimate made him sick.”
My jaw hits the floor. Asshole is right.
“Simone was devastated, and to be truthful, never really the same after that. She went through a traumatic experience overseas and then came home to experience another one.”
A shitstorm of emotions thunders through me, and the whole room turns red. “Where can I find her?” I shoot out of my chair.
“Ty,” Joseph begins to protest. He doesn't think me seeing her is a good idea. I vehemently disagree. I’m exactly what Simone needs. And I’m going to prove it to him, and her, and the entire world.
“Joseph, tell me,” I all but roar. I’m not taking no for an answer.
He pauses for a long while, staring up at me. I never break eye contact. I will glare at him all goddamn day if I have to. “I’m not leaving this office without an address.”
“I can call security,” he threatens.
“Go ahead. It’s not going to stop me. I’ll hire a private investigator. I’ll find her one way or another.”
Joseph surprisingly smirks. “Okay, kid. You convinced me.” He picks up a pen and scribbles on a piece of paper. Just as he lifts the note to hand it to me, he fakes me out, pulling it back. “If you hurt her, I will kill you.” He’s dead serious. His cloudy gray eyes become cold and flat.
“I promise I won’t.”
He hands over the paper slowly, and I snatch it.
“Since I’m here, I might as well ask you.”
“Ask me what?” he grunts.
“For your permission to marry her.”
Joseph chokes.
“One thing at a time, Ty. Let’s see if she’ll even talk to you first.”
I smile victoriously.
“That’s not a no.”
CHAPTER 9
Simone
I nearly jump off my couch when I hear sudden banging on my front door.
“Simone!” My name bellows through the wood. I freeze. Ty?
“Simone!” Bang! Bang! Bang! “Open the door! We need to talk!”
Pulling my knees into my chest, I stare at the door, at a loss what to do. I don’t want to see him, but it doesn’t seem like he’s going to give up so easily. I really hoped after I left he would just let me go. I made a complete fool of myself and crossed a line that was put there for a reason. A good, goddamn reason. So my heart never gets broken again. And once Ty sees the monster I truly am, that’s all I’ll have left—the broken pieces of my fragile heart.
“Go away!” I yell.
“Nope! Not happening. I’m not leaving. Open the door, or I’ll break it down this time. I’m not taking no for an answer!”
Break it down? He’s bluffing.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The hinges creek. Oh, shit, maybe he’s not.
“Ty! Stop!”
“I’m getting in that apartment one way or the other, Simone!”
Jesus Christ, someone is going to call the cops. This is a respectable, family-oriented building. I storm off the couch straight to the door.
“Go away!”
“Nope. Not leaving.” He’s obstinate.
Frustration boils right out of my ears.
“Ty,” I huff. “I don’t want to see you.” I press my forehead to the door. “And trust me, you don’t want to see me.”
“Yes, I do.” His voice is suddenly calm and smooth and soothing. “I know everything, Simone. I went to see Joseph.”
All the air in my lungs evaporates.
“Why the hell did you do that?” I snap at the door.
“Because I needed to know. I needed to know why you won’t let me in. We are so good together. I know you know that.”
“It’s a dream, Ty. We can’t be together.” My eyes suddenly well with tears. I’m alone, and that’s what I’ll always be, what I’m destined to be.
“Yes, we can,” his tone is determined. “I don’t care about what you look like—”
“You say that now,” I cut him off. “But you don’t know.”
“Then show me,” he demands. “Show me so I can prove to you that it’s more than just your body I want.”
The tears fall. “Someone once said a very similar thing to me, and he’s gone now. He broke my heart because I was too disgusting. Scarred beyond repair. I couldn’t handle that kind of rejection again from someone I care about. I’m not that strong.” I cry behind the door, grateful he can’t see my pathetic tears.
“You care about me?”
I sniff. Seriously, that’s what he took away from my whole spiel? That I care about him?
“Yes,” I admit, because what else do I have to lose? All my secrets have been revealed.
“Good, because I care about you, too. More than anything. More than anyone.” It sounds like he’s pleading on the other side of the door. The tears roll down my cheeks freely, like heavy raindrops. “Please, open the door, Simone. Let me prove to you I’m not going anywhere.”
My heart is pounding so hard I feel lightheaded. I want to believe him. I want to let him in, and I’m not just talking about my apartment. I want to let him into my life—my heart—but I’m so scared. My scars run deeper than just my skin.
“Simone.” One more desperate plea and my resolve starts to crumble. I hyperventilate as I reach for the deadbolt.
I hesitate. Then. . . click.
No sooner than I turn the lock, Ty barges in. He doesn’t say a word, just traps my face and plants a kiss on my lips that makes the room spin. It’s hungry and urgent and deep and eliciting. Our tongues roll in a heady, provocative dance as we suck all the oxygen out of the room.
“Bedroom,” Ty demands between possessive kisses. “No arguments, no disputes, no hassle.” He’s all business. The pit bull is chomping down, and he’s latched onto me.
I start walking a path that feels like the green mile as I lead Ty to my bedroom. It’s neat and cleanly decorated in whites and greys. Very calming. That’s what my therapist said I needed. A calming environment to help combat the post-traumatic stress. It’s helped somewhat, but not significantly. Only time seems to help…and denial.
We stop in the dead center of the room, Ty eyeing me like a starving wolf. A look like that would have excited me in the past—I would have been pouncing on him by now—but today, staring back at him is like a death sentence.
“Take your clothes off, Simone.” Ty runs his hands slowly down my arms. I freeze in place, my stomach turning.
“I can’t.” I close my eyes.
“Then I’ll do it for you.” I feel Ty tug at the top button of my shirt. I may throw up.
“Breathe, Simone.” His tone is alluring. Comforting, enticing. Maybe if I keep my eyes closed, I can pretend my scars aren’t there. I can pretend Ty doesn’t see them.
I sway
on my feet as he works his way down my teal, long-sleeved button-up. Regardless that it’s one hundred degrees in Charlotte and the humidity is stifling, I never wear short sleeves. It’s something I’ve learned to live with.
Ty’s breathing picks up as he separates my shirt. A cool waft of air from the air conditioning makes my nipples harden under the lace material of my bra. And just as he goes to push the material from my shoulders, I stop him.
“Don’t,” I chicken out.
“Simone, open your eyes,” Ty beckons. I lift my lids slowly and meet his big, beautiful green gaze.
“Nothing under that shirt is going to make me want you any less than how much I want you now.” He takes my hand and presses it between his legs. He’s hard. Really fucking hard, and suddenly I’m really fucking horny. I haven’t been with a man in years, and despite being completely mortified about the orgasm that spontaneously combusted from a little bit of dry humping outside my hotel room door, I want Ty so badly I would crawl over a pile of broken glass to be with him. “Please, trust me, Simone.” He sounds so genuine. Desperate, almost. I want to, I really do.
After his heartfelt plea, Ty does something unexpected. He begins to pull off his own clothes. Piece by piece. He loosens his tie and drags it over his head. Swiftly he unbuttons his dress shirt and discards it on the floor. Then he unbuckles his belt and drops his pants. Underwear and all. Before I know it, he’s stark naked, and I’m drooling.
Oh, I think I’m totally fucked.
“Your turn.” He reaches for my shirt, and I hold my breath, but I don’t stop him. Moment of truth. Do or die. My eyes remain focused on his face because I want to dissect every expression. I’m close to crying again, but I don’t. I hold it together as he scans my imperfect body. The hideous scars run from my right shoulder all the way down my arm, over my whole side and around to my back. My skin looks like rotting cheese, made worse by the “grater” used for the grafts. At least, that’s how I see it. Ty is silent for a long time as he investigates every inch of my upper body. I feel like I’m under a spotlight. And just as I’m about to look away and cower in shame, Ty smirks arrogantly.
Drawn to Him: A Romance Collection Page 11
