Undisclosed Desire (The Complete Box Set

by Falon Gold

  “Hi.”

  “Hi yourself,” he replies in a deep drawl that skips down my spine. “Now, where are you?”

  “I’m in an outlet store three miles away from the hotel, and I hope they deliver because I think I bought half the store. Considering the baggage fee that I’ll be charged at the airport, I’ll come out better having it all shipped home.”

  “Tell me what store you’re in and I’ll come pick you up.”

  As much as I love that he cares, I’m a big girl who loves her independence.

  “Thank you, Apollo. But I can get back to the hotel with my bags…one way or the other.”

  “I know that, but I’m missing you, and I want to see you as soon as possible. Don’t worry about your bags. My jet can haul all that you buy.” His tone deepens, and my heart flutters even though I have to refuse his offers.

  “I flew here commercial, sweetheart, and the airlines won’t refund half of my round-trip ticket if I only use half of it.”

  “You didn’t pay for your ticket, baby.”

  What the hell does he mean I didn’t pay for my ticket?

  A mild case of shock descends upon me. “You mean I flew free?”

  He laughs. “Something like that.”

  The line moves up one person while I try to make sense of his vague explanation. I step forward, utterly confused and unhappy about possibly being arrested for stowing away on a plane as soon as I get to the airport’s checkout counter.

  “Either I paid for my ticket or I didn’t, Apollo,” I whisper, while looking around, suddenly paranoid. “Which is it?”

  “You didn’t.”

  My heart sinks into my stomach, rendering me unable to speak.

  “Oh God,” I moan quietly into the line.

  He starts to laugh. “I paid for everything you wanted, my Lisa. Your ticket, contacts, suite, spa visit, clothes, and I’ll pay for the ones you’re about to get now when I find you.”

  No longer paranoid, I feel shanghaied and angry. He hadn’t checked with me first before shelling out his money. I wasn’t raised to let anyone give me anything, giving them the opportunity to demand something in return that I’m not willing to give.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, or at least ask if I wanted you to pay for my trip, Apollo? I’m not a prostitute—”

  “I’m not your john either,” he interrupts, in a cold tone.

  “As I was saying, I’m not a prostitute, and I can buy my own things,” I hiss, keeping my voice low and our first argument out the ears of the customers around me. “That’s why I work every freaking day for you, Apollo.”

  He groans loudly. “Of course you’re not a prostitute, or you wouldn’t be my assistant. But when a man loves a woman, he pays for the things that she wants and needs because it’s the sole reason why a man works—to provide. And you wouldn’t know I’d paid for anything if I didn’t want you to fly home with me and not worry about blowing your money.”

  The phone line begins to crackle between us.

  “My Lisa,” he calls out, as if he’s afraid I’ve hung up.

  His voice echoes in my ear, which only happens when both phones in use are in close proximity of each other. A sharp tingle develops between my shoulder blades. I recognize it as the eerie feeling that comes from being watched. I turn around to find the customers behind me are looking back at Apollo. He’s standing at the entrance several yards away. Both of his piercing black eyes are trained on me.

  Oh my damn! He’s here.

  Chapter Seven

  My hand slowly lowers the phone to my side. Suddenly, the atmosphere is too thick to inhale. Apollo’s so damn beautiful in his tailored black suit it almost hurts to look at him. How did he become more handsome than he already was?

  I’m still mad with him for taking the liberty to throw his money around before asking if it was okay with me. Of course, I would’ve told him no. I don’t want a man taking care of me. What happens when he can’t or doesn’t want to take care of me anymore?

  I don’t know, and I never want to find out.

  I turn completely around, giving him my undivided attention. The lady standing in front of me glances over my shoulder then signals with a nod of her head for me to back up. I realize the line has moved and take two mini-steps back, refusing to break eye contact until he says something or comes to me… anything to give me the idea that he understands why I’m angry and we’ve made it through our first argument.

  When the lady signals for me to move again, I accept that he isn’t going to do anything and turn around to face the front. Apollo materializes beside me, almost instantly. I breathe out, consumed with relief, but the customers are weirdly silent after all the chatter I’d ignored during my shopping spree. The silence becomes too loud to endure. I start to count the people waiting in front of me, while sneaking sideways glances at Apollo. He’s staring straight ahead.

  Finally, the line dwindles down to my turn to check out. The salesgirl that I left my selections with hauls them on the countertop beside her register. I wait for what seems like forever for her to scan the barcodes and bag my purchases. The tension mounting between Apollo and I grows by leaps and bounds. The whole store seems to be waiting right along with me for one of us to say something. I can’t think of one thing to say that won’t ignite the tension into a full-blown argument complete with yelling, so I stay silent.

  The quiet is broken by the sales clerk who tells me my total. I give her my credit card. She swipes it quickly then hands it back, along with the receipt for me to sign. Apollo begins collecting the bags. I look up at him, then at the bags. He returns my look with the sharp penetrating stare that he usually reserves for those who have crossed the line with him.

  How can wanting to be my own woman and pay my own way cross a line?

  It feels like he’s drawing that line in the sand as he looks down at me.

  “Can I get the bags, Malisa, or do you want to carry them, too?” he snipes at me, while pronouncing my name correctly.

  I’d already grown to love his alteration of it.

  Shit! He’s angry. This is not good.

  When Apollo’s this angry, he can become an opponent on a battle field in a war that no one wants a part of. I never wanted to be the one on the opposing side either. It’s reserved for the losers that make the mistake of going up against him.

  We need some space before one of us says something else that we’ll both regret. I’m already regretting going off on him about spending his money on me. I don’t want my regrets to grow.

  “Well, I can get them, Apollo, because I think—” The ability to speak fades away, when he sets the bags down on the counter gently, as if he’s releasing me, too.

  I slip into major heartbreak territory. I have been here many times before because of him, so it’s not something that overly concerns me. When he turns to face me, holding himself stiffly and a canyon’s width apart from me mentally while towering over me, that does worry me. I look away long enough to give the clerk the signed receipt back.

  “Do you want to make your way back to the hotel, too?” he asks, too calmly for my liking.

  My eyes snap to his, which are snapping back at me. I’d hurt him without meaning to, and he’s being a gentleman about it, which only makes me feel so much worse. He’s taking my refusal for help with the bags the wrong way, too.

  I just want both of us to have time apart to cool down. The height of our emotions will lead to yet another argument, where we won’t hear a thing the other says. Our fragile beginning can’t afford that. I’m not going to explain why I am the way I am in front of an audience, either. Though none of the customers seem to mind the drama bonus added to their shopping spree.

  We need to get out of this store, and fast.

  “Apollo—”

  “Well?” he cuts in belligerently. “Are you getting back to the hotel on your own or not?”

  I step back from the quiet anger rippling off him in thick waves too big to inhale.

>   “I…” I stammer and have to swallow. “I probably should, Apollo. You’re upset.” And I sure as hell don’t want this to be our last fight.

  His chest begins to rock with sarcastic chuckles emitting low from his throat.

  “Upset is the tip of the iceberg, Malisa, but I’ll get out of your way.”

  “Apollo—”

  He turns on the heels of his Italian loafers and walks away. I don’t have to worry about us not hearing one another. He’s not even letting me get a word in to explain that he’s anything but in my way. My feet stick to the floor, the shock and fear of losing Apollo proving too heavy to move. I, and everyone else in the store, watch him leave. When the glass doors automatically open for him then close behind him, the customers start to talk amongst themselves. The different opinions spur me to take my leave.

  Only one person’s opinion matters to me, and he’s already walked out the door.

  I grab the sacks off the countertop, one by one, sliding the thin, paper handles of as many as I can along my arms before collecting the rest in my hands. I rush toward the exit, hoping the man I love hasn’t actually left me behind. When I get outside in the cool, late morning air, I realize I’d forgotten to do my due diligence and ask the salesgirl for a number to the local taxi company, just in case I can’t find Apollo. Taking care of myself is why Apollo and I are at odds, and yet, I’m already forgetting to do it. I look around the parking lot. He’s nowhere to be seen.

  There aren’t any idling cars or limos from the local car service waiting in the colossal lot. I could go back inside the store to ask the sales clerk for a taxi’s service number, in front of the mob that had been privy to the fastest breakdown of a relationship before it could even leave the state it began in.

  I’d rather hoof it back to the hotel first.

  Mercifully, a yellow cab turns into the parking lot, circles it, and stops in front of me standing on the sidewalk like a lost orphan. The passenger window rolls down, before I can step off the curb. An older white man leans over his passenger’s seat and peers out of the car, with a brown tweed gentleman’s cap tilted to the side.

  “Are you Malisa Owens?”

  I nod, stunned. Only Apollo would know my full name in all of Nevada and Utah. Because of my job, I have no friends anywhere to speak of anymore.

  The man shifts back to the driver’s seat then opens his door. I wait for him to open the back door for me. It’s impossible for me to do it with all the bags in my hands. I push my way inside the car behind the mountain of sacks, regretting the shopping that started this mess between Apollo and me.

  When the driver’s back in his seat, I gratefully grumble, “Thank you.”

  Now why couldn’t I just say that to Apollo? Because he’s not a taxi driver that I’ll pay for his help at the end of his service, and I’m an idiot who had it drummed into me to stand on my own two feet by my parents.

  Somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten to be grateful when receiving a gift of any kind from anyone, and that people helping me have to be willing to help in the first place. That’s a gift, too, whether I’m paying for their service or not.

  Pure misery swoops down on me. I lift my hand to swipe my suddenly aching forehead, but the damn sacks get in the way of even that. I can only blame myself if I’ve lost the man who I’ve dreamed about, wished for, and finally gotten.

  And he’s probably cancelled our extended vacation by now.

  There’s only two things left for me to do: apologize to Apollo and use the other half of my ticket. Yeah, I don’t think so. I’ll be buying another ticket home. Apollo’s certainly dumped my ass along with the extended vacation, and there’s no point in using the other half of the plane ticket he bought, since I was too stubborn to graciously accept the first half.

  So stupid, Malisa! Apollo’s pissed. He’ll be easier to talk to… oh, in about a week, or a year.

  However long it takes, I’ll wait. But I won’t even think about how he thought enough of me, even while angry, to secure a ride for me back to the hotel. I’ll only make myself feel worse if I do think about it, if feeling worse is even possible.

  The cab arrives in front of the hotel. I dread going inside, afraid I’ll run into Mr. Ford leaving, Apollo a thing of my past now. That’s my fault too. I’d ignored my concerns about us going to the next level in our relationship, like an idiot, and look what happened. Still, I square my shoulders and find the strength to face him, anyway. It’s going to happen, today or tomorrow. Either way, I had to get it over with and maybe even find a way to move on, because I have no proof that he hasn’t already.

  I just don’t know if moving on is possible when I’d finally gotten where I wanted to be, in his arms.

  I release the bags in my hand to reach into my wallet clutched in the other hand that’s still loaded down with bags, intending to pay for the ride.

  The driver looks back and shakes his head. “The man already paid me and told me to tell you that he’ll see you Tuesday morning.”

  My mouth drops open, weighted down with pure shock. Apollo hadn’t cancelled anything but us.

  “Tuesday!” I shriek, panicking. “What happened to ‘he can’t sleep unless I’m there’? He needs to hear me moan before he can! Did he just leave because I didn’t want him spending money on me? Now he doesn’t even want me in the office Monday?”

  I’ve sunk low, resorting to taking my frustrations out on the innocent driver who doesn’t know me or Mr. Ford. But Apollo banning me from the office until Tuesday is pure overkill, or at least that’s what I think.

  The driver shrugs, his mouth drooping at the corner. “I don’t know. I was just told to deliver you and the message here. That’s it, ma’am.”

  I wait for the beating of my heart to resume its normal pace and my emotions to settle. Neither happens, and it’s probably not going to until I’m somewhere quiet and have had time to process what just happened. That isn’t going to happen while I’m sitting in the cab, probably not in the near future either. It looks like I’m going to need my own two feet, after all. So why do my legs feel wobbly and I’m sitting down?

  Stop asking questions you know the answers to, Malisa, and get out the damn car!

  “Fine,” I grumble beneath my breath. “If he doesn’t want me around, I won’t come around.”

  I begin to collect the bags gone astray on the backseat. The driver gets out the car. When he opens my door, I step out onto the curb, clumsily.

  “Thank you,” I say, before hauling myself behind the bags out the car.

  A young man in a bellhop’s uniform appears out of nowhere just as I step in front of the lobby’s door. When they slide open, I shake my head, refusing his help and locate the elevator.

  As it rises to my floor, my mind whirls in circles, determined to work out what to do next. I’d planned to go home and apologize to Apollo for going overboard with my independence. Yes, I recognize the error or my ways, so sue me for being human.

  But what’s the point of apologizing, when he doesn’t even want me in the same space?

  My heart isn’t going to just let me work with him and not be with him, not after getting a taste of an exceptional man. I guess I should keep my heart and my ass out of Apollo’s space and life altogether for a while.

  At least, I had a perfect early night and late morning with the love of my life before things went south, the very thing I was afraid would happen; my friend, my secret love, and my job all gone in one swoop.

  The elevator doors open. I step out into the long corridor, and turn toward my hotel’s door. It dawns on me that Apollo is really gone, and he isn’t coming back. A steady throb begins in my chest. My eyes and nose burn. Incoming tears tighten my throat, making it almost impossible to breathe.

  What’s the point of being independent, Malisa, if you break down at the first sign of trouble because your stupid heart is codependent on Apollo?

  And I’m certainly going to come apart at the seams, right here in the middle
of the hallway, but I’ll be damned if I do it for everyone to see.

  I hold myself together long enough to open my door, drop the sacks on the living room floor, with no care for the few breakables that I’d bought as gifts for my family. I walk blinded by tears to the bedroom. I turn my cell off and disconnect the hotel’s phone from its base. The only left do is collapse on the bed and cry. Watching Apollo go on dates has nothing on watching him leave me behind then telling me to stay away.

  When the tears let up, I make a pact with myself.

  Come hell or high water, I’ll find a way to get over Apollo. This has to be why my parents told me countless times to make my own way in the world. Shit always hits the fan at some point, and I need to be able to shield myself until someone unplugs the fan, or it runs out of disgusting things to throw at me.

  My heart is being pummeled from the inside out. I’m being rained down on with memories of Apollo, which are attached to this room that I’ve made my sanctuary. I don’t want to be let out of it either.

  Eventually, sleep finds and abandons me. Monday morning’s arrival is reflecting too brightly off the French doors’ glass into my eyes, which are puffy and sore from crying most of Sunday. Despite the promise I made myself, I don’t feel like standing on my own two feet for any length of time. After only one night with Apollo, my heart isn’t the only thing codependent on him. I miss his warm body next to mine, his gentle yet searing touch on my skin, and his deep voice that sends shivers down my spine for no reason at all.

  Why did I ever let us go beyond professional?

  Now, I’ve lost everything over money, his money. It’s the very reason we’d met in the first place. I needed it so I could stand on my own two feet. Yet, I essentially punished him, and me too, for it.

  I can’t stay here all day crying about it though, so I sit up slowly. My body is not even remotely interested in actually getting up. More tears slip from my eyes, when I should be all cried out, or at least dehydrated. I swipe at them angrily.