by Emma Tharp
He cocks a brow.
It’s true, he doesn’t get it. “I have no idea how you feel about me. Was this weekend just about the sex for you, or was it more than that? Because I’ll admit, I agreed to the trade for the money initially, but then after I got to know you, it became so much more.”
Finally, he moves closer and his knee touches mine. One butterfly flutters its wings in my belly and it feels so good. “At first it was about the sex, but I agree, once I realized that you had such a big, warm heart, a playful spirit, and beautiful soul, it all changed. I knew I wanted you in my life.”
“But you failed to tell me that, and I was left to draw my own conclusions,” I say and blow out a long breath at his cluelessness.
Garrett rests his hand on my thigh. “Clearly, I’m terrible at this. I’m sorry. I thought it was obvious, since I was glued to you this weekend.”
“No. I enjoyed every minute of that, but in my mind, when you never told me that you felt anything for me, I assumed it was only physical.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Wow. It does sound bad when you say it like that.” He takes my hand in his. “When Adriana and I divorced, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever find someone else. But I did. I care about you, Camille, and I want you in my life. When I thought you were done with me, it hurt. I even talked to Donovan about it.” He laughs. “He’s up to something that has him really excited, but I didn’t ask him about it today. He told me I shouldn’t have given you the check yesterday. I didn’t understand. Now I do.”
“Donovan got this one right. He doesn’t always.”
“Yes, that’s true. I meant what I said though. I don’t want to scare you, but I want you in my life. You and I could be great together, if you’ll give me a chance.”
My heart starts to melt in my chest and warmth spreads through me. “Really?”
“Yes. The only thing that I ask is that we keep an open line of communication at all times. I need to know how you feel, and in turn I’m going to do better sharing that, too.”
“I can do that.”
He lays a gentle kiss on my lips. “You make me so happy, Camille. I’m going to do my best to make you feel the same.”
Laying my hand on his cheek, I look him squarely in the eye. “You do, Garrett.”
When he rests his hand on my lower back and rubs it, I see the heat in his eyes and my body pulses to life. “I missed you, Camille.”
“It’s been less than twenty-four hours, but I missed you, too,” I admit.
“I don’t want to be without you again. Move in with me.”
I look at him and around the room and think of how much has changed between us these last six weeks. “Are we ready for that?”
He nods and cups the back of my neck. “I think we are. It worked before your surgery. Why wouldn’t it now?”
It doesn’t make sense to pretend that this isn’t exactly what I want. Will it be perfect? No. I know that, but I can’t wait to try. “Let’s do it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say.
He gives me the sexy smile I love so much and pulls me in for a kiss, one that proves to me he’s ready to take the next step with me and toward our future.
Epilogue
Donovan
“This is good scotch,” my brother Garrett says, swirling the ice around in his glass.
“Agreed,” I say. “That’s why I love this restaurant. They only serve the best.”
My siblings and I have all found success as adults. Garrett with his company, my sister as an attorney, and myself as an investment banker. It’s a far cry from where we came from. My mother was a stay-at-home mother who did childcare on the side, and my dad worked his ass off for peanuts. We had nothing growing up, but they loved us and raised us right. Now we get to enjoy the fruits of our labor. It’s too bad our parents didn’t get a chance to see our success.
“I’ve got something to show you,” Garrett says, fishing around in his jacket pocket. He pulls out a little teal box and hands it to me with a huge grin on his face.
“What’s this?” I open the box and my jaw goes slack when I lay my eyes on the massive diamond ring inside. “No way, bro. You’re going to pop the question?”
He nods. “Yes. I just don’t know when. We’ve only been dating for a few months, but when you know, you know. I want her in my life forever. I thought I knew with Adriana, but it never felt like this.”
Holy shit. This will be marriage number two for my big brother. The thought of even doing it once makes my throat feel swollen and itchy. “Congrats, man.” I hand him the ring back as quickly as I can without being rude.
“You have any ideas for me? I’m not very creative and I want to make the proposal special.”
I take a bite of my sirloin and enjoy the juicy, peppery taste. “I’ll think of something. Give me a little time. And, hey, get a load of this. When I was going through possible investments, I came across one with the name Liza Dooley on it. Do you remember her from high school?”
“Oh, yeah. Pretty, popular. You had a massive crush on her and she friend-zoned you, right?”
The image of her gorgeous smile flashes through my mind, and I’m suddenly transported back to all those times I stared at her and wished she’d want me like I wanted her. My heart twists up inside my chest like it always used to with the rejection I felt around her. “Yup. That’s her. She wants to open a catering business,” I tell him.
“She always did throw the best parties. Makes sense that it’s the type of business she’s interested in.” Garrett wipes the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “You thinking of bankrolling her?”
“I think I might. It’ll serve a purpose.”
“And what’s that?” Garrett asks.
I cross my legs and contemplate how much I want to share with my brother. “Well, it’ll show her what she passed up. I’m no longer the skinny teenager with acne and only three pairs of sweatpants. The guy she used to spill her guts to about other guys. Nope. Now I’m fit, successful, and have so much more to offer. It’ll be like vindication to see the look on her face when she sees me now. The guy she could’ve had, but passed up.”
He nods, a contemplative look on his face. “Why not? You both get something out of the deal. Her, the money for her business, and you get to rub her face in what she could have had.”
“Yeah. I’m doing it. I’ll get in touch with her and set up a meeting.”
And how the meeting goes will depend on just how far I’m going to take this little revenge game of mine.
Indebted
The Monroe Series Book Two
One
Donovan
“Uggghhhhh,” the dude working out on the bench next to me groans like he hasn’t been able to use the bathroom in a month. He throws the dumbbells to the floor after his set loud enough for the entire gym to hear.
Is there anything worse than a steroid-injected, over-tanned meathead who flexes and stares at himself in the mirror at the gym, right beside you?
If there is, I can’t think of what it could be at the moment.
After having a big lunch with my brother today, I needed the gym time. And I like a good workout as much as the next guy, but today, I just want to finish my damn set and get the hell out of here. The problem is that the juicehead next to me is really fucking distracting.
To make matters worse, the dude is listening to heavy metal or something in his earbuds, and he proceeds to wail the tune off-key, and today I forgot my own earbuds at my office.
A gorgeous woman catches the look of disgust on my face as I stare at the guy, and gives me a sunny little smile and a conspiratorial wink. I smile back at her.
She saunters over to me in her red leggings and tight black half-shirt and gets close enough for me to smell her vanilla perfume. "Is that guy distracting you as much as he's distracting me?" She tilts her head back subtly toward the guy who is currently belting out a tune about secrets and lies.
"He is.
I wish he'd take a hike."
She rests her hand on her chest and laughs. It's a bit too loud and a touch fake. She's trying too hard to flirt. I've seen it before, but she's cute and has a slamming body. "You know, I was just getting ready to go and grab a smoothie. Want to come?" she asks.
This is why I have a gym membership. Not because I need the facility. My building has a state-of-the-art gym, but I like the option to meet new people. I love women, and what better place to pick one up? And now this woman is picking me up. That’s for sure. Although this evening I did have some work to do and wasn't planning on bringing anyone home, I can be flexible. It's hard to say no when you get propositioned by a beautiful woman. "Sure. Let's get out of here."
I suggest I drive, and from the moment we get in my Land Rover, she can't keep her hands off me. Just as I figured. There’ll be no smoothies. Her fingertips rove up the back of my head and into my hair and her mouth is all over my neck and face on the fifteen-minute trip from the gym to my penthouse.
We don’t do much talking, but her name is Marcy and she's quite good with her tongue. We're lucky we make it back to my place without getting into an accident. Turns out, Marcy is very distracting.
The second I open the door to my penthouse, she is all over me, and before I know it our clothes are off and we’re rolling around in the sheets.
The sex is good. Not great. She's not my usual type. Upon closer inspection, her boobs are too big and she's more muscular than I normally like, but I'm not really complaining.
She is loud and likes to talk during sex. And talk after sex. Definitely not what I was looking for tonight.
One of the best parts of my job is that I can often work from home. This morning is no exception. I sit in my living room in nothing but a pair of athletic shorts and make some calls.
Damn. It's her voice mail.
"Liza. It's Donovan Monroe. I was looking over your application. This is my number. Give me a call at your earliest convenience."
It's been a long time since I've seen Liza Dooley. I haven't talked to her either. It’s been fifteen years. After graduation we went our separate ways.
In high school, Liza was everything I ever wanted but could never have.
Sure, we were friends. I didn’t want to be her friend. I wanted to be her boyfriend, but why would the gorgeous captain of the cheer squad date a puny, acne-prone poor kid like me?
Unrequited love. That's what we had.
She was so beautiful, with all that blonde hair and a flawless figure. She was a perfect ten and the object of many of my teenage fantasies. But I also loved her personality. She was magnetic. Everyone loved her. And she took a liking to me. Unfortunately, I was in the friend zone. She called me up crying about her dickhead boyfriend who cheated on her, or the football player who was toying with her emotions. I'd listen to her cry; I'd hug her and comfort her in the best way my teenage boy self could. It must've worked, because she kept calling me.
I loved it and hated it in equal measure. Because I wanted to talk to her, because I thought that I could be what she needed, but she never gave me the opportunity. It was hard not to resent her for it.
Now, she needs me.
As the owner of a venture capitalist firm, I bankroll many different projects. Some need smaller amounts of funding; others need millions of dollars. My job description is broad and I don’t usually get involved with this end, preferring mergers and acquisitions, but when I saw her name, I knew I had to be involved, even if Liza’s project is for chump change. I'm intrigued by the possibility of funding her little catering company. After all, she always knew how to throw the best parties in high school; it makes sense that that would be her adult dream.
Unfortunately for her, it looks like her parents didn't instill the best financial education, since her credit score is mediocre at best. She's a risk—that's why she's been turned down by other financial institutions. But for Liza, I think I can push this one through.
I can't wait to see the look on her face when she sees me for the first time. A lot has changed in fifteen years. I've put on thirty pounds of muscle, my skin has cleared up, and I'm successful.
I wonder what she looks like now? It won't be long before I find out. When she calls me back, I'll set up a meeting. How sweet this is going to taste, showing this woman what she passed up all those years ago. It’ll be the perfect revenge.
“Want to go out for breakfast?”
Shit. I forgot my gym hookup from last night is still here. I’ve been so caught up in work and thoughts of Liza. “No. I can’t. I’m working.”
Marcy sashays down the stairs, her eyes scanning my place like she’s seeing it for the first time. It was dark last night when we got here and we didn’t spend any time downstairs. You can almost see the hope and dollar signs in her eyes. My multi-million-dollar penthouse has been professionally decorated—everything is state-of-the-art and top of the line. I get compliments on it all the time. I’m sure it’s not what she thought it’d be when she picked me up at the gym yesterday. “Will you call me?”
“Sure,” I tell her.
Making her way toward the door, she blows me a kiss before she leaves.
Yeah, I’m never calling.
Two
Liza
"Excuse me, miss. I asked for an ice water fifteen minutes ago," a woman with silver hair spits out as I fly by her table.
Coming to an abrupt stop, I back up to stand in front of her. I give her an apologetic smile. "On my way to get it now."
I hustle back to the server station where my best friend, Spencer, is pouring two cups of coffee. "What has you so frazzled today, princess?" he asks.
And that is why I love Spencer. He can read my moods without me having to say a word. "I was turned down by yet another bank today." I blink hard, having no time to cry. "What am I going to do?"
Spencer grabs a water glass from the shelf, filling it with ice and then water before handing it to me. "The first thing you are going to do is drop this water off to the elderly woman sitting at table six. She just stopped me and asked for it."
Taking the water from him, I nod. "Thank you. You're the best." I rush back out to her and hand her the water.
With a sour expression on her wrinkled face, she thanks me.
Doing a quick scan of my tables, everyone seems to be okay for the moment. I make my way back to the server station and wait for Spencer to return from dropping off meals.
Spencer comes back, dragging his sleeve across his forehead. "You are going to figure something out. You always do."
I nod just as my buzzer goes off, telling me food is ready for another table. "You're right. I will because I have to get us out of this restaurant." My boss is a huge jerk, but I stay because it’s a high-end establishment with better pay and tips compared to other restaurants.
He puts his hand up to high-five me. "Amen, sister."
"Amen," I say right before I slap his hand and hustle off to the kitchen to pick up my table’s food.
My boss’s face is perpetually in a tight scowl as he rushes around the kitchen like a man ready to commit murder, not get potatoes out of the oven. He’s in a terrible mood, yet again. He stresses out because the restaurant is busy, but he acts like a huge jerk if the place is quiet. There's no winning with him.
After high school, I went away to a private university to please my parents. I was attempting to get my liberal arts degree because I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my life. When I moved away from home, I partied more than ever and ended up flunking out. My parents were so angry that they cut me off financially. That's when I started waitressing. I’ve worked in just about every aspect of restaurant business from being a hostess, manager, and even a cook. But with waitressing, I love the quick cash, but there's never enough of it, especially to live in New York City.
I've been trying to save money to go to culinary school, but I realized that starting a catering company first would be my best plan of action. Then, later in life
, once my company was up and running, I could attend culinary arts school part-time. But I've been living outside my means for too long. Now no bank wants to risk it and give me the money, even though I’ve worked in all the different positions, giving me a good foundation for a catering business.
It looks like I might be working as a waitress longer than I wanted to so I can build my credit score and save more money for the down payment to start up my business.
Back in the kitchen, my boss, Doug, is adding a potato to a plate. I avoid eye contact because I’d rather not get yelled at for no reason tonight. It’s clear we’re both in sour moods. Loading my tray with plates, I hurry to ensure I get out of the kitchen before Doug has a chance to speak to me.
On the way out of the double doors, another server kicks the opposite door open, and in doing so, the door nicks the edge of my tray, sending one of the plates flying to the floor with a loud clank. On the plate was a thirty-dollar filet mignon.
Shit. My stomach sinks.
“I’m sorry!” the clumsy waitress yells behind her and she runs off toward the salad station.
“Thanks for helping out,” I say under my breath.
“Liza!” Doug yells from the line.
Turning to him, he signals for me to come back in the kitchen. “Bring the steak.”
I swallow hard and go back into the kitchen to set my tray down, then I go pick up the filet. The floors are filthy. We’re going to have to throw the steak away. It’ll come out of my paycheck. Fuck my life.
“Hand me the steak,” Doug says, his tone a low growl.
I give it to him and watch as he takes it, dunks it into the au jus canister a few times, puts it on a new plate, and hands it back to me. “Go serve it.”
Standing in stunned silence, I stare at him. There’s no way he can be serious.
