My brows draw together, concerned as to where this is going.
Nana continues. “Eleven years ago, her father was killed in a car accident in Utah. According to the local news report, he wasn’t alone. There was a woman with him who died a few days later in the hospital. The woman wasn’t his wife, Charlotte’s mother.”
“Are you saying this woman was his mistress or something? Not just a passenger in the car?” It doesn’t seem right to speculate, but it’s also a legitimate question.
“I didn’t find anything specifically saying that, but wisdom tells me it is the case. You see, her mother passed away two years later.” The sadness in Nana’s eyes is no match for what’s going on inside me. Charlotte was so young—only seventeen—when her father died, and nineteen or twenty when she had to say goodbye to her mother.
“Was there any information on how her mother passed away? My God, that’s so much for a young person to deal with.” I wish I could talk to her about this.
“No, but I found another article about Charlotte and her success at the resort she manages. She’s quite beautiful, by the way. It mentioned that her charity of choice is drug rehab and awareness, and she always donates in her mother’s memory.” Nana pauses to give me a look that says, Do the math, Ian.
That’s when it all sinks in. I look back at Nana, and she nods her head in agreement to my unspoken conclusion.
“I see you’ve put the pieces of the sad puzzle together. That, young man, is what they call a tragedy.”
I rub my hands over my face as a way of trying to clear my head. “A tragedy, indeed. And you are suggesting that I’m some kind of reminder of her father’s infidelity that was ultimately the cause of her mother’s death.”
“I believe so, Ian. You said yourself that she is clearly affected by you, deeply at that. Her feelings for you probably terrify her. Can you imagine the effect of all this on a teenager, the impression left in her mind and the pain left in her heart? My God, it’s a wonder she functions as well as she does.” Nana shakes her head, and I can tell she is genuinely sad for Charlotte. I wish I could bring her here. Something tells me Nana would be a good friend to her, one she could probably use after all these years.
“That is quite some investigative work you’ve done here, Nana.” I get up and walk over to the bar to fix us each a scotch. “I went to see Charlotte after the meeting. I asked her if she would have lunch with me tomorrow.”
Nana smiles at that; I do not. I’ve just had a major dose of reality handed to me, and for the first time in my life, I am extremely pissed off at myself. “She was very reluctant to accept. She told me that she has trust issues and that I haven’t given her any reason to trust me.” I can hear the misery in my own voice. “Seems I’m off to a very bad start considering everything you’ve just told me. My arrogance may have destroyed any chance of ever being with her. I may never be able to break through; she may never look at me as worthy. The thought of it fucking kills me, Nana.”
“Ian, dear, whatever you did to make her not trust you probably has more to do with her not trusting herself, and now you can understand why. Don’t expect it to be easy. It shouldn’t be, otherwise it would be like everything else, and where is the value in that? Fate has a way of making sure you don’t take true love for granted.”
Surprised, I look up from the glass in my hand and laugh. “Are you telling me I’m in love with Charlotte?”
With a sweet smile and knowing eyes, she responds, “No. You just told me that you are.”
Thirteen
Charlotte
After tossing and turning all night, not due to erotic threesome dreams, I decided to sleep in and take the morning off for the first time in a long time. Apparently, two dates in one day, each with a different guy, was too much for my conscience to deal with, even though I keep telling myself that neither is really a date. It doesn’t matter what I call it, though. I was extremely nervous about having lunch with Ian, and I couldn’t shake the guilt of leaving there and joining Gabriel for my next meal. It rotated in my head for hours until finally, Sibel chimed in with a sleepy, Just change your date with the hot Brazilian guy to another night and go back to sleep, dammit. That seemed to do the trick, and I fell back asleep around 3 a.m. Now I hope it works that well in reality.
Me: Good morning, Gabriel. I apologize, but would it be all right if we move dinner to tomorrow or Saturday? Something has come up for this evening.
That seems generic and polite enough. Now I can focus on the fact that I’m having lunch with the man that twists me inside out and backwards with just the look on his face and the smell of his skin. This would be the same man that I’ve repeatedly committed myself to avoiding, yet manages to be standing right in the middle of my path at every turn. I knew that once his meeting was history, he would find new excuses to see me. I just didn’t expect it to be the next day with me sitting across a table from him sharing conversation and getting to know each other.
Walking over to the console table under my TV, I pick up Ian’s drawing. I look at it every day, several times a day. I can’t help myself, even though I get a strange swirling in my gut when I think about the fact that he actually created it and was able to draw emotion into it—the confidence her posture exudes that, in turn, makes her sensual beyond her feminine naked form. She knows she is powerful, she isn’t afraid of it, she embraces it and encourages you to embrace it, as well. I love it. More than I care to admit.
He said this was his vision of me, but I don’t see myself as I see her. Yet I do have a deep connection with her…and then I think I’ve lost it because she is a drawing. Setting it back down, I huff out a laugh. I shouldn’t be surprised at this point. Everything that involves Ian McAlistair is blanketed with mystery and confusion.
Right then, my phone pings.
Gabriel: Good morning, my dear Charlotte. I am disappointed this evening will not work for you, but I understand. Friday will not work for me, so I will look forward to seeing you again Saturday evening. I will be in touch with details. I want to pick a place you are sure to love.
Wow, he’s so polite it’s almost awkward. I wonder if he is like that all the time or if maybe he’s trying harder because of the whole culture, language barrier. It’s charming, no doubt, but a little bit goes a long way nowadays. Too much and it starts to seem phony. It doesn’t really matter. Gabriel is a distraction—a sweet and kind one that will hopefully keep me from becoming obsessed with Ian and the adrenaline rush that courses through my body whenever he’s around.
Me: Okay great! See you Saturday. Thank you!
Once again, generic and polite.
Finishing my second cup of coffee, I’m ready for a quick workout before I get ready. I’m hoping that will get more energy flowing since I missed my morning sunrise. Plus, it should help get rid of the butterflies I get every time I think about sitting down with Ian, face to face.
What am I supposed to talk about with him? He’s so distracting it’s hard to keep a clear head, yet I’m supposed to come up with random conversation and act like he didn’t pleasure me in the most intimate way possible…standing in a parking lot…before I even knew his name. I think I’d rather take Gabriel’s overly sweet, borderline annoying charm over whatever the hell it is that happens when Ian is around. I’m starting to think I should have told him no.
Right as I’m getting ready to jump on my treadmill, my phone pings again. When I see Ian’s name, my heart drops and my stomach does a flip. Why, why, why does that happen? I can’t stand it!
Ian: Good morning, Charlotte. I hope you slept well last night. Admittedly, I did not. Although, I wouldn’t say it’s a bad thing because I spent the entire night thinking about you. The only downside was that it made the time tick by slowly, which was like torture considering how much I am looking forward to seeing you today. I chose the Four Seasons’ main restaurant, EDGE, as our crowded venue. I suspect you will recommend meeting me there, but I ask that you reconsider and allow me to pi
ck you up and properly escort you myself. It seems terribly impersonal to do otherwise.
Staring at my phone, I drop into the nearest chair and put my forehead on my hand. What. The. Hell? Even his goddamn texts make my heart pound and bring on that all-too-familiar sensation of the floor disappearing from under my feet. I read it again, then one more time…slowly. It’s charming, but in a sexy, commanding, Ian McAlistair kind of way.
He stayed up all night thinking about me? And unapologetically told me about it! What am I supposed to say to that? I actually did, too. But it was due to guilt because I stupidly accepted a dinner invitation from your new business partner? I need to write back and cancel. I should have stuck to my original plan because my heart is not going to end up intact when Ian is done. Jesus! That text alone is enough to make me fall for him! And what is his end game? It’s not going to be happily ever after, that’s for sure!
I want to call Erika, but she can’t be my crutch for everything. I’m twenty-eight years old, for Christ’s sake! Pacing around the room, arms waving, I talk to myself for a few more minutes before I respond.
Me: Hi Ian, I’m sorry. I have to cancel. Something came up. I’ll be in touch.
Delete
Me: Hi Ian. You overwhelm me and I don’t think I can handle being alone with you, even in a crowded restaurant. I have to cancel.
Delete
Me: Hi Ian. In an effort to save myself from tragic heartbreak, I need to avoid you for all eternity. So I have to cancel.
Delete
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
Me: Good morning, Ian. That’s seems like a long night, indeed. You must be exhausted. We can reschedule for another day if you need to rest.
That’s a nice setup for an out. But something tells me the outcome I’m hoping for won’t come to fruition.
Ian: Nice try, beautiful. Not happening, though. I’ll pick you up at The Clara Sea or the front door of your building at noon. Just let me know which one.
Ugh! Arrogant…as I expected.
Me: Okay, then. I guess I don’t need to tell you my home address since you’ve already stalked that information. Or should I say, you had Jackson stalk that information.
* * *
Ian: All that matters is that I know where to find you. See you at noon.
“Well!! Just take over my world, Ian…no big deal! I don’t know what your address is, jerk! Shouldn’t I be disturbed about that? A little worried that you’re a weirdo or something?”
Yelling at the phone only makes me feel moderately in control. Cancelling lunch would make me feel fully in control, but something tells me he’ll show up at my actual front door, to which he probably has a fucking key, and waltz right in, throw me over his shoulder, and take me to lunch. Bloody hell!
Nixing the exercise that was supposed to rejuvenate me, I head to my closet to find something to wear. I’ll fix him… I’m going to look and smell so good, he won’t be able to think straight for the next three days. Two can play this game! The sad part is, he’s not playing a game. I’m starting to learn this is how he is and ohhh, how I wish it repulsed me.
I take my time getting ready since the morning is dragging on and making me more edgy. I decide to wear a long sleeve, off-the-shoulder fitted dress. It’s solid slate gray, which is one of my best colors. It’s casual but nice, and I pair it with neutral strappy heels that are high but not slutty. My only jewelry is a turquoise bracelet and earrings set Uncle James gave me for my twenty-fifth birthday. It’s handmade by a Navajo artist and is my absolute favorite, and since turquoise is said to hold the power of protection, it seems befitting that I wear it today.
Standing in front of the mirror, I assess the finished product. My hair is down with a loose wave, my makeup is neutral except for my lips which I decided to accentuate with a dark mauve tone that pops against the gray of my dress. I think I’ve done pretty well. Hopefully Ian thinks so, too, and has difficulty concentrating and feels like he’s the one falling off a cliff…a thought that makes me laugh.
I send a quick pic to Erika just for fun and to get some ego-boost reinforcement. My pose is overexaggerated, lips pursed for a kiss, and I’m holding up two fingers for the peace sign.
Erika: Damn girl! I thought you were trying to get rid of him?? You won’t accomplish it looking like that…he’s never going to leave you alone after today!
* * *
Me: Haha! This is my revenge for the text he sent me this morning.
* * *
Erika: Yeah? What was it…him standing in the mirror naked with a semi?
* * *
Me: Lmao! How do you always manage to take us back to the gutter?
* * *
Erika: Hey, don’t knock the gutter. There is a lot of fun to be had there! Made you laugh didn’t it?
I throw my head back, laughing out loud. No matter how low she goes, she always manages to make it funny. To me, at least.
Me: It did. But it also left a spectacular vision in my head that I DON’T need right now! Thanks!
* * *
Erika: That reminds me, I never got a report on the juicy threesome dream with you in a hot man sandwich. Don’t be holdin’ out on me!
* * *
Me: Wtf?? Don’t make me laugh! It’s going to mess up my makeup! A hot man sandwich?? That is so lame it’s hilarious!
* * *
Erika: It gets the point across. Give me some deets!
* * *
Me: The only deets I have on that front is that I cancelled tonight with Gabriel and rescheduled for Saturday. I couldn’t follow through with two dates in one day. Don’t give me shit about it…I feel so much better now. Way too much pressure.
* * *
Erika: I get it. No shit giving here. You don’t need any added stress for lunch with Magic Mike. You’ll be busy enough dodging his magic fingers and spontaneous orgasms.
* * *
Me: Stop! Lol! I have to go, MM is going to be here soon. I’ll call you later.
* * *
Erika: Pins and needles!!
Putting my phone in my purse, I go to the mirror to check my mascara and make sure the tears didn’t smudge it. All good. I take a deep breath, shake off some of the nerves, and head to the elevator. It’s a long ride down from the fourteenth floor as I continue my steady breathing and try not to make a big deal out of seeing Ian any second.
None of that really mattered, because once I made it halfway through the lobby I could see him outside, right in front of the two glass doors at the main entrance, casually leaning against his car. He looks amazing in a pair of dark jeans that couldn’t possibly fit more perfectly and an untucked fitted white dress shirt with some kind of detail along the outside edge next to the buttonholes. As I get closer I can see his shoes are over-the-top sexy in a brown that is a little darker than the detail in his shirt. And those sunglasses… Damn. He looks like he stepped right out of a magazine ad. I wish I could take a picture without him knowing and send it to Erika. She would die! That silly thought makes me laugh at myself and in turn, relaxes me enough to walk out the door confidently and greet Ian with a smile.
“Hi!” I say and look to either side where I see people looking in our direction, most likely wondering who the hell he is, looking like that and driving that car. “You’re drawing a lot of attention out here.”
He doesn’t bother looking around to confirm my assessment. His attention is fully on me, and its potency has piqued a self-awareness that wasn’t there before. Like the wind across my shoulders, my hair tickling my skin as it glides across. The tightness of my dress and how it moves with my body, soft and stretching. The heaviness of my bracelet, the slight discomfort of the straps on my heels. When he takes his glasses off and I see the desire in his eyes, it takes every ounce of composure I have to stand in front of him and not turn back to the safety of my condo, because in that moment my awareness is fully focused on the weight of my breasts and my traitorous nipples that have become painfully hard.
Her timing couldn’t have been better, because right then, Ian reaches up with his right hand placing it gently on the side of my neck. His palm is just under my ear, his thumb following the line of my jaw up to my cheekbone. His fingers reach around the back of my neck into my hairline, warm and strong. He moves forward, and I’m afraid he’s going to kiss me on the lips. Instead, he brings his mouth to my left ear, our cheeks softly touching, and says on a deep whisper, “Don’t be afraid, Charlotte.” Then he kisses me below my temple.
It’s like my body is floating and my mind’s gone hazy. I’m surrounded by his scent, the heat of his body, the slight touch of his hand, and it’s not enough. I want more. And it does scare me, beyond words. But how does he know?
The Essence of Fate Page 13
