by Alexis James
My head shoots up and my eyes immediately land on HR Manager, Liza Anders. The tall, blond beauty is smirking at me with a know-it-all smile, one hip propped against the wall and her slim arms pulled tightly across her full breasts.
“Excuse me?”
She struts closer, looming over my desk, her voice icy and direct. “You heard me. Someone like you will never be enough for him. He needs someone confident and strong.” Her eyes drift casually up and down my body. “He needs someone who understands that a man needs a woman in his bed. Not a girl.”
Stunned, I sit back in the chair and peer up at her. She is the polar opposite of me and carries herself like I’ve wished I could, with an air of confidence that’s part intelligence, part smoldering sexuality. The sad truth is that she’s right. I will never be enough for him. And while I might have believed at one time I was the one woman who could make him change his ways, the past few days of silence and his wariness about my family have only reinforced all my worries and doubts.
Liza grins at me. “What’s the matter little girl? Cat got your tongue?”
Anger rises in my chest, and I bite out, “Was there something you needed Miss Anders?”
She shrugs nonchalantly. “No. Just wanted to stop by and thank Cruz for dinner.”
My stomach rolls violently as vivid images of the two of them together play in my mind. “Dinner?”
She laughs softly. “Yes, dinner. Do you have cotton in your ears?” Leaning over the desk again, she whispers, “What’s the matter, Mia? Didn’t he tell you we were seeing one another?”
Swallowing hard, I refrain from screaming only because I don’t want to give her the pleasure of seeing me implode. “Mr. Moran is busy right now. Would you like to leave a message?”
She shakes her head, sending silky, blond tresses spilling around her face. “No thanks. I’ll call him later.” She wiggles her fingers at me. “Bye, bye little girl.”
I can only sit there with my mouth hanging open, watching her stroll down the hallway. Eventually she disappears around the corner. It’s only then I can breathe, although doing so gives the tears free rein to push forth. Blinking furiously, I refuse to give into the pain of this new revelation. Refuse to allow myself to shed one more tear over him.
Shutting off my brain is the only way I manage to get through the day. I answer the phone like usual, perform my usual tasks with an almost robotic-like precision, and keep my interaction with Cruz down to a minimum. Thankfully, the day passes swiftly and shortly after five I shut everything down, gather my purse and head out. It’s not until I’m halfway home do I realize I never informed him I was leaving for the night. The fact that I couldn’t care less speaks volumes.
Hanging around in the silence of my apartment is too tortuous to contemplate, so I quickly turn the car around and head to the gym. Once there, I move on auto-pilot to my locker, quickly change clothes, and head to the machines. What I need now is to brutalize my body until the only thing I feel is the pain from my muscles, not the pain in my heart. What I need now more than anything is to forget that I ever believed in forever. What I need now is to learn to say goodbye.
Sleep comes uneasily as it has ever since I walked out of Mia’s apartment Friday morning. Spending the weekend wondering about her and debating with myself whether or not to just give in and go over there was exhausting. I’m actually grateful I was pulled out of the office on business for once.
I know I disappointed her, and I know she doesn’t fully understand why I wasn’t willing to meet her parents. Hell, I’m not quite sure that I fully understand my hesitation. My hope was that our weekend apart would give me time to gain some perspective on this relationship, but after today I’m back to wondering what the hell is going on and what exactly it is that I want from her.
Being bogged down with work first thing this morning was not how I planned on starting the day. However, I’ve spent more than enough time lately letting her distract me from my work, and my clients have suffered because of it. When I finally stepped out of the office to see if she wanted to have dinner and found her gone, a weird feeling set up residence in my gut and it’s remained there ever since. Mia never leaves for the day without saying goodbye, or at the very least letting me know she’s taking off. Her leaving without a word tells me there’s a bigger issue here than simply hurt feelings.
So now it’s almost midnight and I’m lying in the dark, wishing I would have called her, if for nothing more than to hear the sound of her voice. Even though I’m exhausted from all the traveling, the long day in the office, the two hour workout I tortured myself with earlier, and the repeated nights of no sleep, every time I shut my eyes, I see her as she was that night bent over the edge of the couch, moaning my name.
I fully comprehend that I’m much too fixated on how we are with one another in bed, but I am a man after all, and the truth is it’s much easier to think about stuff like that than to contemplate the hundreds of ways I’m screwing up. It seems like no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I push myself out of my comfort zone, I can’t seem to give her what she really needs: my heart.
As if she knows I’m thinking about her, my phone rings, flashing her name across the screen. A midnight call from her can mean only one thing; she wants to ream me a new one. And while I can’t say as I blame her for that, especially since she has so willingly and unselfishly submersed herself in my family, I can’t ignore the flare of nerves that come alive as I sit upright against the headboard and answer the phone.
“Hello, belleza.”
There’s some odd breathing, like she’s been running, and then she sputters, “I have to go.”
“What?” There’s the breathing again and now something that sounds like hiccups. “Mia, are you all right?”
“No,” she squeaks.
My head is racing in a thousand directions and the weird roll of uncertainty in my chest is reason enough to believe that this has nothing to do with the two of us. “Tell me what’s going on.”
There’s a long, silent pause then the fast panting again and a whispered, “It’s my grandpa.”
Tearing my hand through my hair, I reply, “What happened to your grandpa?”
“He … he … Oh God, I have to go.”
Trying to make sense of her crazy talk, I slowly begin to piece together the puzzle. “Babe, do you need to fly to Hawaii and be with him?”
Her voice is teary when she says, “Yes! He needs me.”
“Have you made flight arrangements?”
“N-no … n-not yet.” Her voice is childlike yet right on the verge of panic.
“I’ll take care of that for you. I’ll call the charter and arrange for a flight so you don’t have to deal with the airlines.” Clicking on the bedside lamp, I gather up my notepad and pen. “Do you need me to arrange flights for your parents too?”
“No. They’re flying out in a few hours.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of everything.” I can hear her shuffling around, mostly likely bag packing. “I’ll call you back in a few minutes with the information.”
We disconnect without another word, and I immediately contact the charter agency I frequently use to make the arrangements. Mia doesn’t need to be shuffling around the airport, dealing with annoying fellow passengers. A private flight to Hawaii will give her plenty of time to rest and gather her strength to deal with whatever this is.
She answers on the first ring, her voice now better under control. I quickly relay the information to her about her flight, tell her I’ve arranged for a car to pick up both her and her parents from the airport and ask if she needs me to make hotel reservations. “No thanks. We’ll probably stay at Grandpa’s house.”
“What happened, querida?”
There’s a ragged sob right before she speaks. “He had a stroke.”
“Ah, babe, I’m so sorry. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No.” Her voice is broken when she speaks again. “I may be gone for a
while. If you need to replace me, I understand.”
A sick feeling of dread settles over me. “Let’s wait and see what happens.”
“I’ve gotta go.”
The line is disconnected, and I’m left staring at my phone, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do now. The distance I feel from her is vast, and I wish I could blame it all on her family crisis. I’m fully aware that she still harbors some resentment for the past few days. Dealing with our personal stuff will unfortunately have to wait until she returns, whenever that is.
Christ … I wish I was the type of person who could drop everything and go with her, if for no other reason than to offer her the same support she gave to me and my family when my dad was sick. Dropping everything and putting work on hold for a few days or a week is simply not possible. As it stands now, a week or more without Mia to handle things is going to be challenging enough.
Ten days later I’m crazed with the need to know something, anything. I’ve received only one text from Mia this entire time and all it said was that she had no idea when she was going to return. I refuse to allow myself to believe that her silence has anything to do with us, but there’s still the nagging feeling in my head and the same sickness rolling around in my stomach—reasons to believe she’s using her family emergency as an excuse to put distance between us.
I’ve replayed our last few conversations in my head a thousand times, driving myself to distraction with the constant knowledge that I must seem incredibly unpredictable in her eyes. One minute we’re making nice and joking about me keeping clothes at her apartment and the next we’re communicating only about work. Finding the perfect line between boss and lover has been a challenge, I’ll admit, one I’ve handled with nothing short of uneasiness and plenty of anxiety. It’s easy to see now after some time has passed how that uncertainty might foster many insecurities within her.
Work, as usual, has been my only saving grace. The inept temps that have stood post at Mia’s desk intermittently have only created more for me to do and in a desperate attempt to retain some sanity, I finally asked Mama to come in and answer phones. She was shockingly thrilled at the offer and for the past two days she’s done her level best to charm my clients and simultaneously keep me afloat.
I know I can’t keep this up forever. Eventually I’m going to be forced to contact Mia and find out whether or not she wants me to find a permanent replacement for her. Every day when I wake up I tell myself that today is going to be the day when she calls and every night when I go to bed, the nagging feeling has doubled and the sickness in my gut brings me to my knees once again.
“Have you heard from her yet?”
I turn from my post at the window to see Marco standing in the office doorway, tie loose and hanging around his neck. “No.”
He pours us each healthy servings of tequila, hands mine over and settles in a chair. “I spoke to her.”
I refuse to comment on what he’s said, giving him a curt nod and turning back toward the window. The mixture of hurt and jealousy almost knocks me off my feet. But since anger supersedes either of those emotions, I toss back the alcohol and stare out across the Miami skyline, gritting my teeth and wondering why the hell she’d call him, when it’s me she owes the explanation to.
“I called her, not the other way around. You know, in case you’re wondering.”
“None of my business,” I state.
“Why are you doing this?” His words are a hard, bitter truth I’ve been asking myself since the first moment I touched her.
Turning slowly toward him, I pull on my hard mask of indifference and snap, “Doing what?”
Marco glares at me. “Why are you being so fucking hardheaded? She needs you, man. Tell me why I understand that and you refuse to?”
Moving toward the bar, I refill my glass almost to the top and take a good, healthy gulp. The tequila burns like liquid fire down my throat, landing with a thud in my empty belly. “If she needed me, she’d call.”
He shoots me a dark look. “Bullshit. You didn’t call her when Papa was in the hospital, but you still needed her.” He rises to his feet and steps toward me. “Quit being such a stubborn prick and get on a plane and go to her.”
Facing the window once again, I reply, “I can’t. I have too much to do.”
“That’s such crap. We both know you employ a fucking army to take care of things for you. I’ll even oversee everything on your calendar. Between me and Mama you won’t have to worry.”
In theory, it’s the perfect answer but in reality, the last thing I want is to show up in Hawaii and have Mia turn me away. I need to give her time to work out her family issues before she and I can attempt to figure out where the hell we’re going.
Marco steps up next to me, hands in his pockets. “Is it because you’re seeing Liza? Is that why you won’t go to Mia?”
Confused, my eyes dart to his, and I stammer, “L-Liza? What the hell does that mean?”
He shrugs nonchalantly, but his demeanor is anything but. “That’s the buzz around here, and Mia confirmed it when we spoke. Apparently rumor has it that you and Liza are seeing one another.” One dark brow is raised in question. “Are you … seeing one another?”
Hostility bleeds slowly from my veins, and I growl, “Why the fuck would I want to spend any amount of time with her?”
“Hell if I know, Big Brother. But she managed to convince Mia that you were.”
Ah Christ … So that’s what this is all about. “What else did Mia say?”
“We talked mainly about her grandpa. But she asked how you were and when I asked why she hadn’t called you she started to cry.” His eyes narrow in anger. “Dammit, Cruz, you were supposed to take care of her!”
Glaring at him, I grumble, “I thought I was.”
“Then why the hell would you let her believe you’re fucking that bitch Liza?”
“I didn’t let her believe that. This is the first I’ve heard about it.” What’s truly ironic is that even though this is my company, I’m so submersed in work and secluded in my office most of the time I rarely know what’s going on with my employees unless we have a meeting or a situation arises that needs my attention. When I think about Liza’s little plan to derail me and Mia, it all makes perfect sense. She probably made a few snarky comments, comments perfectly aimed to hit Mia where she’s most vulnerable, especially since our relationship has been so very unpredictable right from the start. Then Liza got some rumors going and before you know it, she and I are an item and Mia is out on the street. “I’m going to kill Liza.”
Marco slaps me on the back. “No you’re not. You’re going to fire her and then you’re going to get your ass on a plane and go make things right with Mia.”
“Fucking hell. What a mess.”
He turns to me with a smirk. “Yeah, but at least it’s not boring.”
I shoot him a dark look and take another sip of tequila. “Can you really hold things together if I leave for a few days?” There’s no one I trust more than my little brother, but even I’ll admit I have major control issues. “I’ll keep in touch and review things ahead of time. I just need you to take some of the meetings and handle any contract issues that arise.”
A wide grin spreads across his face. “I’ve no doubt that you will micromanage me, even from thousands of miles away.”
“You’re an ass.”
Marco chuckles and taps the side of his glass against mine. “Yeah, but you love me.”
I shrug. “Sadly, I do. I need to rectify that situation.”
We share a few more well placed barbs like only brothers can, and then he drains his glass and sets it on the edge of my desk. “I better get out while I can. I should get laid tonight since I’m sure you’ll be controlling every move I make once you leave town.”
“Enough.” I scowl. “Meet me here at six tomorrow morning so we can go over everything before my flight.”
“Yes, master.”
“Dick,” I snap, watching h
is stride toward the door. “Thanks for the heads up about Mia.”
He shrugs. “I got your back, Big Brother, and you know I love that girl. Hopefully someday soon you’ll make her an official part of our family.”
Anxiety settles over me. “Let’s not jump the gun on that, okay?”
Chuckling, he sends me a two-finger wave. “See you mańana, man.”
Tossing back another sip, I turn to the window. The need to see Mia face to face is now a tangible, bleeding ache. For the first time in weeks I feel like I’m on the right path and even though I have no idea what the hell I’m going to say to her when I get there, I’m not about to let her end us without at least sitting down and talking.
Separate from the Liza issue, we have much bigger things to deal with—or rather I have much bigger things to deal with. Mia’s been on board about us from the start and has somehow managed to weather the storms that are my crazy up and down emotions about my past. I have no idea why she’s hung in there as long as she has, but I can only assume part of it must be because she really, truly loves me—or at least she did until Liza started stirring up shit between us.
Funny, but when Mia first came to work here and things started to flare to life between us, I was unnerved at the idea of my employees thinking I was trying to romance my assistant. Now, months after the fact, I want to write it on the wall, want to announce to each and every one of them that she is mine.
Huh, I think as I raise my glass to myself, I guess leopards can change their spots after all.
Sifting my fingers through the sand, I stare out at the ocean and take a deep, cleansing breath. I love the beach first thing in the morning, when everything smells fresh and clean and the sounds of the waves soothe me in a way nothing else can. This has become routine for me: starting each day with a long walk then a good amount of time pondering my life while I sit there losing myself in the view.
Hawaii is home to me, even though I haven’t lived here in many years. It’s where I was born and raised, a deep culture of family and tradition that’s as much a part of me as my own skin. It’s where I spent summers with my grandparents after we relocated to Florida and where I’ve constantly returned any time life has threatened to overwhelm me. With all that’s happened in the past few months, and all the ups and downs with Cruz and me, this is what I need: time to regroup and catch my breath. I need time to determine if the direction my life is headed is one I’m settling on or if I need to choose a new path.
