by Belle Aurora
I placed my hand on his t-shirt-covered stomach and melted into him, my cheek on his chest, breathing in his fresh scent. He unlocked the car and held the door open for me, closing it after I was seated. I told him where I worked, and luckily, he was familiar with the area. He drove in silence, while I occasionally sang along to the radio, and every time I would, his lips would spread into a smile.
Honestly, I would sing till my voice was hoarse if it meant that smile would show itself to the world. I liked it that much.
As he stopped at a red light, I turned to take in his profile. Matt Quinn was the type of man who demanded attention without meaning to. His face was all harsh angles that only softened with his smile. And when he did smile, the sun shone.
My hand shot out and I ran my knuckles over his five-o’clock shadow. My mind had just shouted, ‘Inappropriate!’ when Quinn closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and leaned into my touch, greedy for the attention like a purring cat.
The light turned green and we separated. Another minute, and he was parking across the street from my workplace. Smiling softly, I uttered, “Thanks for the ride, Cap’.”
He took my hand, bringing my knuckles to his lips. He held them there a moment and my heart raced. His eyes held me in place, something stirring there, but not something I was able to put my finger on. Tightening his grip on my hand, he pressed a firm kiss on my knuckles. With his warm lips on my skin, he looked into my eyes and muttered, “Anytime, Mia. Anytime at all.”
Heat bloomed where it shouldn’t have bloomed and anxiety spread through me. My cheeks flushed pink. I exited the car and didn’t look back, rushing into the building. The elevator opened and I stepped inside. The door closed, and still, I stared into space.
A rough yet amused voice sounded behind me. “Rough night?”
My body jolted in shock. I hadn’t realized anyone was in there. I looked up into a familiar face. “Nicholas, hi.” I exhaled deeply, running a hand down my face. “No, I didn’t sleep well. How’d you guess?”
His eyes twinkled. “You still haven’t pressed a floor.”
My cheeks heated once again and, turning, I keyed in the floor while cursing under my breath. Annoyed at myself, I took some of it out on him by asking, “Does Addison know you’re coming this time?”
His smile faded, his response stern. “She’s agreed to give me an hour in the office without busting my balls.”
The cockiness, which forced me to ask such an inappropriate question, dimmed at the look on his face. “I’m sorry, Nicholas. I shouldn’t have asked that. I really did have a rough night. My brain-to-mouth filter is lagging today.”
That small smile appeared again and I was grateful for it. The elevator opened once more and we both stepped out, Nicholas making a beeline for his office while I walked in the opposite direction. I greeted Pip on the way then stopped by Ella’s desk, leaning my hip on the edge. “Hey, you.”
She smiled up at me. “Hey yourself, lady.”
“How are you feeling?” I asked quietly.
Her smile dimmed a notch and she shrugged. “I’m…getting there.”
That was better than nothing. With a consoling squeeze to her shoulder, I walked down to my desk, logged in to my computer, and waited for eight-thirty to click over so I could start my day.
“This is a fucking disaster!” Ella howled as she skidded to a stop by my desk.
My eyes widened as I caught sight of her heaving chest. “What’s a disaster?”
“The Mason. They kind of double-booked,” she muttered, twisting her hands together, averting her eyes.
My heart stopped and my face paled. Leaning forward, I whisper-hissed, “What?”
She wore a frantic expression. “This has never happened before, Mia. I don’t know what happened, but they double-booked. They have a wedding reception in the same hall as the Desperate and Dateless Ball on the same night.” She winced. “The wedding party booked first, so we’re the ones who have to reschedule.”
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered. “What do we do?”
This was my first big event. I couldn’t have my first event become a disaster. It couldn’t be a flop. This was not acceptable!
Ella straightened, drawing herself up to her full height. “Okay, here’s what we need to do. You need to look for suitable replacements while I contact the radio station and somehow cancel the posters being printed. If they threaten to go with another planner, I’ll give them a fifteen percent discount.” I hated how helpless she sounded. “If that doesn’t work, we’re screwed.”
Ella strode away and I immediately opened a web browser, looking up convention centers, hotels, and community halls. There were over a hundred places and I needed to start somewhere.
With a sigh, I picked up the phone and dialed.
Five o’clock had come and gone, and I was still at my desk, becoming more stressed by the minute.
Fifty-seven calls. Fifty-seven possible host locations, which were already booked. My elbows on my desk, I cradled my head in my hands, willing myself to calm the eff down. This would work out. It just had to.
The next location was a hotel a little out of the way, but they had a great hall with open fireplaces and a glass ceiling. As I dialed the number, I covered my eyes with my hand, fighting off a headache.
“Violet Ridge. This is Mary. How may I help you?”
I sighed, “Mary, my name is Mia. I work for Addison Limited. I’m organizing a fairly large event, a ball, in a little over a month’s time, and I’ve just found out we’ve been double-booked. Please tell me you don’t have anything booked in the atrium hall on the eighteenth of next month.”
Mary made a thoughtful sound. “I’ll just bring up our calendar, Mia. Won’t be a moment.”
I crossed my fingers and prayed.
Please, please, please, please, please.
Mary clicked her tongue then muttered, “Just as I thought.” My heart sank. Then she uttered a happy, “You are in luck. The eighteenth of next month did have a booking, but the party has since cancelled. Shall I organize for someone to show you around?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I all but shouted an excited, “No, just book it!”
Mary chuckled. “Okay.” She paused a moment. “And you’re booked. Now we just need some additional details. Do you have time to do that now?”
Sweet baby Jesus, I would make time! I looked over at the clock. The time read 5:59 p.m. I smiled, utterly relieved. “Yes, I have time. Thank you, Mary. You’re a lifesaver.”
Over the next twenty minutes, I gave Mary all the details she needed then thanked her profusely. Saying goodbye, I hung up the phone, stood, and then threw my fist in the air, whispering a triumphant, “Yes!”
I looked around the office and blinked. I was completely alone. Letting out a long breath, I logged off my computer, threw my purse under my arm, and started to walk out of the office. I noticed Addison’s door open and the light was still on. I thought I’d better fill her in on the new booking before I left. I stopped in the doorway, knocking on the doorframe, and started, “Mrs. Dietrich, it took a while, but we’re booked for the Des—”
That was when I noticed her, head bent, a hand at her forehead, red-rimmed eyes, and a tissue clutched in her hand. Her shoulders shuddered silently as she sniffled.
She was crying.
Addison Dietrich, bitch, boss, and dragon lady, was crying.
Addison stiffened at the sound of my voice. “Please leave.”
I was not sure what to do here. I shook my head then backed away. “I’m sorry for interrupting. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
I turned and started to walk away, but something stopped me. Walking into her office, I took two more tissues out of the box and handed them to her. She took them, avoided my gaze, and then asked an acidic, “What are you even doing here at this hour?”
“Working late.” I backed up a step, but stalled. I would surely go to hell if I didn’t ask the following question. “What’s wrong, Mrs.
Dietrich?
“Nothing. I asked you to leave.” That she did. I knew when efforts were futile. I turned and moved to exit the office. That’s when she asked a faint, “Have you ever doubted yourself, Mia?”
I faced her and blinked, tilting my head in thought. “Of course. Everybody does.”
She laughed humorlessly. “Not me.” She dabbed at her eyes. “Maybe the old me, but not this me.”
I took a step toward her, speaking softly. “Begging your pardon, Addison, but they’re one in the same.”
Her face crumpled. I watched helplessly as two fat teardrops fell down her cheeks. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t like the person I’ve become.” Her breath shuddered. “I’m not this…this…this bitch.”
Well, this just got interesting. I no longer felt as though I needed an invitation. I sat across from her, passing down the box of tissues.
She went on, and I let her, because everyone needed to vent now and again. “I drove the only man I have ever loved into the arms of another woman by being this person.” Her lip curled. “I hate this woman.”
My response was surprisingly simple. “Then stop feeding her.” I tried my hand at humor to see how she would respond. I shrugged and widened my eyes. “You’re not the only one who hates her, you know.”
She amazed me by laugh-crying, “Oh, I know.” But she sobered quickly. “I don’t know how to stop being her. I’ve been her for so long that I can’t remember who I was before her.”
I stood and spoke gently, “Nicholas fell in love with that woman. She’s in there somewhere.” I smiled reassuringly. “You’ll find her.”
As I walked out the door, she spoke quietly, “Thank you, Mia.”
I left the office, speaking loud enough for only me to hear. “You’re welcome, Addison.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Quinn
I did a good job, I thought. I got to almost seven p.m. without calling her.
Now that I knew her, my days seemed to go slower and my body, now knowing the feel of hers against mine, craved her like no other. I missed the sound of her voice. I missed her laugh. Shit, I just missed her when she wasn’t around.
My mother was not a good woman, but if there was one piece of advice she gave me that stuck, it was: One day, you’ll meet someone who will consume your very soul. When you meet that person, you’ll know. And if that person ever tries to leave you, fight for them, because once they’re gone, life will become a chore.
It made me think that maybe she’d lost her person. Maybe he was my dad. Maybe that was why she treated me the way she did. She always told me I looked just like him. I hadn’t spoken to my mother in years. I had no idea where she was, whom she was with, or even if she was alive. I missed her some days. Others, I was glad she was gone.
Every time I ate French toast, I was reminded of her. We never had a lot of money, and Mom worked in diners as wait staff. She knew I loved French toast, and on the days she worked late while I was at home with only the TV as a babysitter, she would wake me up in the middle of the night just to see the smile I’d get at the surprise she brought me.
Her stomach would rumble as she watched me eat, but no matter how many times I told her to eat with me, she’d never take any. She told me it wasn’t her treat to share.
Something happened when I turned fourteen. My features started to mature. My face turned sharp and lost its innocence, and then I shot up a foot at a time, becoming taller and sturdier.
My mother’s love for me diminished. She started to look at me differently. Her hugs reduced, and then they were gone, leaving me craving affection and getting it from wherever I could. Namely in the arms of women older than me, who used me as much as I did them.
The love I had for my mom turned viciously into hate. How dare she treat her son like she had? She was a poor excuse for a woman, drinking heavily then putting her hands on the one person who loved her more than anything in the world.
I warned her. Once she had sobered, I told her that if she hit me one more time, I would hit her back. My warning went unheard.
The following night, Mom got her drink on. She was a lousy drunk, fuelled by bitterness and hatred. I moved to take the bottle from her. Her hand came across my cheek full-force. My anger spiraled out of control. I gripped her wrist and pushed as hard as I could. I watched in stunned disbelief as my mother stumbled backwards, falling to the ground with a thud. Breathing heavily out of my nose, I brought my arm back and threw the bottle of liquor at the wall beside me. The glass shattered and I ignored the way my arm stung, my knuckles seeping red.
I left that night. I left and never went back. I was fifteen years old. With only a backpack full of clothes, I hit the streets. I was an angry teenager on the loose, fighting my way through to my sixteenth birthday. I’d spent many nights on park benches, eating out of trashcans, and stealing clothes from people’s backyards.
One fateful night after a brawl, I was arrested. Who knew that would actually turn out to be a good thing?
The officer who arrested me spent hours trying to get something out of me—my name, how old I was, where I was from. I didn’t tell him anything, not at first, but then he told me about himself, about his sons, about his work, about how he was a foster parent to another young boy. He followed this up by feeding me.
At this point, I was about ready to be the man’s pet if he asked me. But he didn’t. Instead, he helped me find a place at a home for young men like myself. They nicknamed it Runaway Isle. It was ran by a woman in her thirties named Carla. I liked her the moment I met her. Her eyes smiled, even when she didn’t.
Carla put me to work with a tutor, and by the time I was eighteen, I’d gotten a job at a local hardware store and had completed my studies, resulting in my high school diploma. One night, I’d been held back at work and got back to Runaway Isle just after nine p.m. When I walked inside, I stopped in the kitchen before going to bed, because I’d worked through dinnertime. I was hungry.
One of the boys, Jack, who was seventeen, had Carla backed up against the fridge. Her eyes wide and frantic, I watched in shock as he held a knife to her throat while he palmed her body in places that Jack should not have been touching.
Obviously worried for my safety, Carla mouthed, ‘Get out,’ as tears trailed her cheeks.
Fuck that. This woman had given me a new lease on life. I was not about to abandon her. I silently unhooked a hanging frying pan and crept closer. When I was within arm’s length, I lifted the pan over my head and brought it down over Jack’s head…hard.
Jack made a choking noise then fell to the floor, his cock hanging out of the fly of his jeans. Carla let out a whimper and pushed herself away from the wall. I caught her before she fell and brought her into the living area to sit on a sofa. I called the police and they arrived within minutes.
An ambulance collected Jack and he was taken to the hospital with a police escort. Carla explained how Jack had cornered her and that he’d told her he’d been waiting for months for a moment alone with her. He’d planned to assault her. The sick fuck.
The police commended me on my actions, and Carla squeezed my hand in thanks. I was just glad it had ended before Carla had truly gotten hurt.
But Carla had been hurt. She’d been hurt in a way that couldn’t be fixed, and within months, she decided to close down Runaway Isle. It was heartbreaking. Many of the guys had become friends, but we understood why she felt she couldn’t do it anymore.
The boys were transferred all around, while the older ones were given the option to work and use our police contacts as temporary guardians. I went with the latter. I quit my job in hardware and went into construction, finding a shit-hole apartment that was about big enough to store a pair of shoes and nothing more, and went about my life.
I had no furniture, no bed, and barely enough food to eat, but I got by. What the experience did for me was make me appreciate what I had in the now. What screwed with me was just how appreciative I was of a certain frien
dship I’d made, and just how scared I was to lose it.
I dialed her number and waited.
“Hey.”
I smiled at the sound of her voice. “Hey. How was your day?”
“Ugh,” she groaned. My smile stretched wider. I loved how animated Mia could be. “You wouldn’t believe what happened. So, there I was, just minding my own business, when Ella tells me our event has been double-booked. There I am—freaking the eff out, mind you—and all I’m thinking is how badly I’m going to get my ass handed to me if I don’t fix this, right?”
I took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly, letting her words flow over me, soothing me. “Right.”
Mia snorted. “No shit.” I chuckled silently at her enthusiasm. “So I spent the rest of the damn day finding a replacement, and guess what?”
“What?” I said as I folded an arm behind my neck, getting comfortable.
“I found something even better!” She blew out a breath. “It was like the gods of event planning were watching over me or something. Talk about relief. I was about one minute away from pooping myself.”
I pursed my lips in thought. “That could’ve gone badly.”
She chuckled then, and I wished I could see the way her face lit up when she did. There was something about Mia and her laughs. But nothing could beat the way Mia smiled when she was really happy about something. It was stunning. Simply beautiful.
There was nothing more I wanted to do than to lie with her, to tangle my legs with hers and hold her close, listening to her tell me about her day. The sad truth of it was I didn’t even feel the need to fuck her. I just wanted to be close to her, to place my head on her chest and listen to her fucking heartbeat.
Oh, man. I was becoming a total pussy.
But somehow, my need for Mia was more important. I knew this, because without thinking, I asked, “Can I come over?”
