Fireline

by Annabel Allan

  ‘All right,’ the waiter said, smiling to me. ‘I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.’

  I smiled back to him as he walked off.

  ‘Still getting attention, I see,’ Quinn said, looking over the menu.

  I frowned. ‘Unwanted attention.’

  ‘I wonder what went on while I was away,’ he said, glancing up to me. ‘I know you were still going to the gym, any word from that guy that was hitting on you?’

  ‘Dani and I changed days,’ I said, unimpressed. ‘Now we go Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. I went a few times on the weekend, but he wasn’t there. We seem to dodge him. So no more Joe.’

  ‘But waiters seem to be on the table,’ he said, looking back to his menu.

  ‘Oh yeah, because I’m totally flirting with him by smiling. At least I know that hasn’t changed, you’re still as possessive as ever,’ I said, running my hand through my ponytail.

  ‘I protect what’s mine,’ he said, placing the menu down. ‘I didn’t like being away from you.’

  ‘And now you’re back,’ I said with a sigh. ‘But really, let’s not get into that again, the whole possessive, crazy thing. I thought you trusted me?’

  ‘I do,’ he said. ‘I just don’t trust everyone else, especially other men. Particularly when I have a beautiful girlfriend.’

  I smiled a little. ‘Way to flatter your way out of that one.’

  He gave a small smirk. ‘I’m not flattering my way out of anything. It’s a fact.’

  I shook my head, looking up as a familiar face made their way over.

  ‘Daniel,’ I said, smiling as he approached.

  I could see Daniel Brody Jr., the son of one of Quinn’s business partners, making his way over. He looked nothing like his father, who was short and stocky; Daniel was tall and lean, looking sharp in a steel blue suit. He had his brown hair cut short, but it was still brushed back off his sculpted face.

  I had to admit, Daniel Brody Jr. was an attractive guy, nearer to my own age, as opposed to Quinn who was thirteen years older than my twenty-five. But as I had told Michelle, in my eyes he was a downgrade. I wanted Quinn; no one else would do.

  ‘Miss Fournier,’ he said, smiling as he then awkwardly turned to Quinn. ‘Quinlan.’

  ‘Brody,’ Quinn said, just as unimpressed.

  The last time they had seen each other they nearly got into a fight, Quinn taking a swing. Worse, it was at a gala event and everyone saw, including Daniel’s father. It was beyond embarrassing. We were there barely ten minutes before Quinn and I left. Well, I dragged him out. I was worried there would have been another brawl.

  It didn’t help that Daniel already didn’t like Quinn because of his business dealings with his father. Mister Brody Sr. was planning on either selling his whole company to Quinn or just making him a partner. Daniel was dead set on keeping Quinn away from his father’s business.

  ‘How are you?’ Daniel asked.

  I nodded. ‘I’m good, and you? How is Ellie?’

  ‘Not too sure, haven’t seen her in almost a month,’ he said, seeming a little put out. ‘But otherwise I’m pretty good.’

  ‘That’s good,’ I said, nodding again, glancing to Quinn, hoping he would say something.

  There was an awkward silence. We all just sat around; I was fake smiling and playing with the cutlery on the table.

  ‘I heard you were away from work for a few weeks, Quinlan,’ Daniel said to Quinn, finally.

  ‘Yes, personal reasons,’ Quinn replied coolly.

  Daniel took a moment, smiling to me before turning back to Quinn. ‘Look, I think an apology is in order for our last meeting.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ Quinn said, looking to him expectantly.

  Daniel stared at him for a moment, obviously expecting Quinn to go first. I shifted awkwardly, pursing my lips as I looked to the table.

  ‘I apologize,’ Daniel finally said.

  ‘Apology accepted,’ Quinn said, looking to me. ‘Are you ready to order?’

  I glanced to Daniel, who looked like he’d been slapped. I didn’t know if he was going to blow his top. He turned to me, smiling once again.

  ‘It was a pleasure seeing you, Miss Fournier,’ he said.

  ‘Ditto,’ I said, nodding.

  Daniel glanced to Quinn briefly before turning and walking away.

  I sighed, shaking my head. ‘You could have apologized as well, you know.’

  ‘Why?’ Quinn asked.

  ‘Because you took a swing at him,’ I whispered, leaning forward a little.

  ‘He started it,’ he replied. ‘If he hadn’t accused me of being a batterer then I wouldn’t have taken a swing.’

  I frowned. ‘It would have cleared the air. You would be in a better spot with Mister Brody.’

  He looked over his menu once again. ‘If anything, Mister Brody also owes me an apology.’

  ‘You expect him to apologize for his son’s behaviour?’ I asked.

  ‘Mine would have,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to talk about this, Stephanie. I want to enjoy being home, not dwell on the past. This is work shit; I will deal with it at work.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said.

  ‘Which reminds me, you haven’t told me about your writing for the past month,’ he said.

  ‘I’m still waiting on the notes from my agent,’ I said, enjoying saying the words, since I had worked so hard to snag one. I was able to say I was a writer with an agent, ready to go out into the world of publishing, hopefully getting my book to New York Times Best Seller List.

  ‘Seems to be taking his time,’ he said.

  ‘It can take a while, he has other clients too,’ I said, looking up as the waiter walked over.

  ‘What can I get you?’ he asked.

  ‘Grilled chicken salad,’ I said, handing back the menu. ‘Please.’

  ‘Same,’ Quinn said, handing back his own.

  ‘Great,’ the waiter said, smiling to me before he made his way to another table.

  Quinn took a minute, staring at me. ‘At least I know that hasn’t changed.’

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘You’re still not eating carbs,’ he said, amused. ‘I was thinking things would have changed while I was gone.’

  ‘Why would things change?’ I asked, confused.

  ‘My going to rehab is a big thing, especially for our relationship. In normal circumstances you would have just left me,’ he said.

  ‘Well, our whole relationship isn’t a normal circumstance,’ I said. ‘I think you’ll agree. Most relationships don’t start as ours did.’

  ‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘I guess nothing is typical about us, so why would anything change?’

  ‘Exactly,’ I said.

  ‘You didn’t sneak any while I was away?’ he asked.

  I frowned, unimpressed. ‘No. I fought temptation to eat my feelings.’

  ‘Eat your feelings,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You definitely have a way with words.’

  ‘I’m a writer,’ I said playfully. ‘You mentioned a dinner with your aunt and uncle. Where is this blessed event happening?’

  ‘I figured a public place would be best, so here, probably,’ he said. ‘I don’t want any scenes and this restaurant isn’t familiar to Anita, so she’ll be more polite, on ceremony.’

  ‘Oh goody,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Fake Anita, my favourite.’

  ‘Rather the fake one than the real one,’ he said.

  ‘I guess,’ I grumbled. ‘And Jack will be drunk off his rocker.’

  ‘Most definitely,’ he said.

  ‘Ugh, new subject,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘What are we doing when we get home?’

  ‘I was planning on fucking you,’ he said bluntly.

  I felt a little pulse from my sex. Just hearing those words was making me visualize all the dirty things we could do. ‘Oh. Well, I guess I should prepare myself then.’

  ‘You should,’ he said, nodding. ‘I’m planning on fucking you pretty
hard.’

  ‘The way I like it,’ I said, eyeing him hungrily. ‘Ooh, now you’re back I can come for lunches at your office.’

  He nodded. ‘You will be. I was thinking of making a new position for you,’ he said.

  ‘I bet you’re thinking of all types of positions,’ I said. ‘What kind of position? Is this the same as you were thinking, me answering phones in your lap while you finger me?’

  ‘The same,’ he said, nodding.

  ‘You can’t kidnap me and take me to your office every day,’ I said. ‘What about Jessy? She’s your actual assistant. No work would be done if I were at your office all day and we both know how much you enjoy work.’

  ‘I enjoy fucking you more,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ I said, picking up my glass of water. ‘You’ll have to deal with me visiting for lunch.’

  ‘Fine,’ he said, obviously unhappy.

  ‘Besides,’ I said, ‘you were going crazy not working while you were away; I thought you’d be happy to get back.’

  ‘I am, but... I am,’ he said, obviously skirting around the issue at hand.

  ‘What were you going to say?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, looking to his water.

  I frowned.

  We sat in silence for a few minutes before I started the conversation up again, though I really wanted to know what he was going to say. But that was Quinn. He was always evasive when it came to how he really felt about something, and I knew not to push it. It just made him more distant. It didn’t seem to matter; Quinn was being distant anyway.

  Our food arrived, and Quinn looked unsurely at his plate. I grabbed my fork, ready to dive in.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

  ‘Hmm?’ he asked, looking up. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I thought you were over your phobia about eating in front of me?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t have a phobia,’ he said. ‘And I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Why order food if you aren’t hungry?’

  He sighed, sitting back. ‘Appearances.’

  ‘Oh no, not that again,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I thought we were over being about appearances?’

  ‘Why are you referring to me as we?’ he asked. ‘It’s starting to get annoying.’

  My brow furrowed. ‘What’s crawled up your ass?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nothing, just eat. I want to get home.’

  ‘Why did we come here if you weren’t going to eat with me?’ I asked, more than a little annoyed. ‘That’s the point of eating out. And might I add that this is supposed to be for your homecoming, and you’re going to make me eat alone.’

  ‘Stephanie,’ he said.

  ‘Robert,’ I said in a snooty voice.

  He looked like I had slapped him, sitting back in his seat. He really didn’t like being called Robert. ‘Excuse me?’

  I crossed my arms. ‘Honestly, Quinn, I made these reservations a week ago.’

  ‘Well, I’m not hungry,’ he said, keeping eye contact. ‘So, you eat. I’m not arguing with you in the middle of this restaurant.’

  I licked my teeth angrily. ‘Fine.’

  I looked to my food, realizing now I wasn’t hungry. I was too mad to eat. I didn’t want him to win though, so I forced myself to eat every morsel I could possibly stomach. It was enough to say I tried and wouldn’t get a comment from him.

  I was finished, Quinn asking for the check. We walked out in silence, getting into the car. I felt a little uneasy, the food not sitting well in my stomach.

  I had been battling anxiety for almost a month, though my psychiatrist, who I had seen once a week since the accident, said that with time and therapy it would go away. Until then she could give me something to relax me, but I was hesitant to try it, in case I got hooked. I didn’t want to run to it every time I needed it.

  I took a deep breath. I’m fine. I’m OK. It’s not that far to the condo.

  I swallowed hard as Quinn started the car. I grabbed my clutch bag, bringing my phone out. If I kept my mind preoccupied, I could often battle the panicky, nauseous feeling. I stared at my phone, checking messages, social media, doing everything but looking up until we reached the building, where I gave a sigh of relief.

  Quinn parked in his usual spot, getting out before me, as I had a little difficulty with my heels. I made it out, quickly following him to the elevator, heading up in silence. He took out his keys as we rode up, heading in front of me once again and into the little foyer before the penthouse.

  He unlocked the door, closing it behind me. He put his keys in a little bowl on a table by the door before walking towards the bedroom.

  I put my clutch on the bar, a little more than miffed. I followed him into the bedroom, taking off my shoes and tossing them down on the floor angrily as he took off his cufflinks, standing in his dress shirt.

  He stopped, staring at me as I angrily stomped to the leather chaise longue between the bed and the closet where my nightgown sat. I put my back to him, taking off my dress and letting it hit the floor.

  ‘What’s with you?’ he asked.

  I glared at him over my shoulder. ‘As if you don’t know.’

  ‘Oh, typical woman response,’ he said with a sigh. ‘You didn’t talk to me the entire way home all because I lost my appetite?’

  ‘I wasn’t avoiding you, I was distracting myself. I told you about my anxiety. I would think that you of all people would understand that.’

  I turned away from him again, taking off my bra and panties. I put my nightgown on, the little skirt just hitting my knees.

  ‘Look, I don’t want to argue –’

  I turned to him. ‘Then stop being a jerk!’

  I walked past him and into the bathroom to take my make-up off. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

  ‘You know, you really made this one hell of a homecoming,’ he said.

  I glared at him. ‘I didn’t do anything. You’re the one being impossible.’

  ‘Impossible?’ he repeated, his brow raising. ‘I didn’t want to eat!’

  ‘But why?’ I asked. ‘You were doing well until we started talking about work.’

  ‘I’m not getting into that again,’ he said.

  ‘Why the hell not? What were you going to say?’ I asked, following him into the bedroom. ‘That’s what bothers you; you were going to say something. What, you would rather spend your time with me than go to work?’

  ‘Yes!’ he yelled angrily, picking up my shoes from the floor. ‘Are you happy?’

  I stopped, stunned. ‘What? You’re freaking out because you would rather stay home with me than go to work?’

  He started mumbling to himself, putting my shoes on the little rack on my side of the closet.

  ‘Quinn,’ I said. ‘Come on. Why does that upset you?’

  ‘It doesn’t,’ he said, walking past me.

  I frowned as I watched him take off his shirt. I sighed, knowing it was a losing battle. I wasn’t going to get anywhere with him. I decided to drop it, heading back into the bathroom and continuing my routine.

  When I came out he was in bed already, sitting up as he tapped away at his phone. I shook my head, walking around to my side of the bed. I didn’t bother waiting to see what he would do, sliding down and turning over, my back to him as I snuggled into the pillow.

  I heard him put the phone down, expecting the light to be turned off, but instead I felt a hand on my arm.

  ‘You’re going to ignore me?’ he asked.

  I sighed, turning to him. ‘No.’

  He looked to my eyes, then my mouth. ‘I’m normally all about my work. I love what I do.’

  ‘But...?’

  ‘But... I find myself wanting to spend more time with you, especially after being away for so long,’ he said.

  ‘So, you’re saying you love what you do, but you love me more?’ I asked, deciding I would go for it and say what I thought was the answer.

  Will I regret it?

 
He stared at me, a struggle obvious on his beautiful face. ‘We should go to sleep.’

  ‘Quinn,’ I said, facing him completely. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that.’

  ‘There’s everything wrong with that.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with that.’

  ‘Are we going to bed?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine,’ I said, laying back down again, turning away from him. If he was going to ignore the subject, so was I.

  Chapter Two

  I turned over, the faint morning light illuminating the empty spot next to me. I sighed, frowning, stroking the pillow. I turned over on my back, staring at the smooth ceiling.

  I knew where he was, it was just deciding whether or not I was going to go and talk to him. I slipped out of the bed, making my way out of the room and into the hall, walking down to his office, stopping in the doorway, running my hand through my hair as I watched him, sitting in his briefs, typing away at his computer.

  Quinn’s office was modern, an L-shaped desk sitting against the wall, his bookcases opposite, which covered the entire wall, filled with books on just about everything. OK, exaggeration, but he had a lot of books.

  No pictures, no knick-knacks, nothing of the sort decorated the room. It was plain, stale.

  ‘What are you doing up?’ he asked, not looking away from the screen.

  ‘I should ask you the same thing,’ I said. ‘Then again, you always get up at an ungodly hour.’

  ‘I don’t like wasting the day,’ he said, finally looking up. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want my boyfriend to come back to bed, but I see there’s still an asshole in his place,’ I said, crossing my arms.

  ‘More arguing,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘Come on, Quinn,’ I said, walking into the room, stopping before his desk. ‘I don’t want to argue, you know I don’t. I wanted your homecoming to be perfect, God knows I’ve been dreaming about it since the day you left.’

  He sighed. ‘Then why the arguments?’

  ‘Because you’re freaking yourself out again,’ I said. I stopped beside him, putting my hand up into his hairline and stroking his hair. ‘You think loving me is so bad.’

  He softened a bit, relaxing from my touch. ‘I don’t think it’s bad, I just think it’s... complicated.’