by KB Winters
Not that I could blame him. In the past couple of weeks since his somewhat hostile takeover, we had secured a really nice office space and had some very luxe stationary printed up, but for the most part it had felt like treading water as we waited on paperwork to go through.
“I’m sorry, Liv,” Remy said, turning away from the stove to give me a commiserating glance.
I hopped up onto one of the tall bistro style chairs at the bar just off the kitchen. “What do we do now?”
“The office furniture is being delivered tomorrow,” he offered, sounding like he was more worried about his dinner than the demise of the company.
I sighed. “That’s great, but unless the office chairs are planning to pay rent, I’m not sure how helpful that’s going to be.”
Remy dropped his whisk into the slotted spoon holder next to the stove and spun around to face me. “I don’t know what you want me to say. This is your business plan, remember? I’m here to help, but I have to know what you want from me. I can’t read your mind.”
“So what? You’re tapping out?” I asked. I knew that wasn’t what he’d been trying to say, but for whatever reason, I was hungry for a fight.
“Livvie, don’t push me right now. I’m just as worn out as you are.”
I scoffed.
He threw me a sharp glance. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” I reached over the bar top and retrieved a bottle of whiskey—something Remy had converted me to—and poured a small amount in a rocks glass.
“No, it wasn’t nothing. Why are you taking this out on me? I get that this hasn’t been picture-perfect for you, but how is that my fault?”
“You’re right. Not your fault, not your business, and not your problem.” I hopped off the stool and threw back the shot of whiskey.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he growled. “Do I need to remind you that I gave up everything to be with you?”
I poured another shot for myself and sighed loudly. “You don’t have to remind me, but then, that doesn’t seem to stop you from bringing it up. Does it?”
Remy turned back to the stove and whipped at the contents of one of the metal pots. “I need to focus on this.”
I took the glass off the bar and wandered down the hall towards the master bedroom. It was strange to be going into the massive room without Remy, but I guessed technically, it was my room too since we now lived together. The penthouse was glamorous and beautiful, full of everything I could ever need, and yet, not one inch of it felt like home.
I felt hot, frustrated tears threatening to fall. That was the last thing I needed, to have Remy find me alone and crying in his room. God, what he must already think of me. He’d given up his restaurant dreams, opened up his home, and for what? We had nothing to show for it. Now, our client list was down to zilch, and no matter how much I tried, it seemed every door I came across was locked shut.
I downed the whiskey and grabbed my legal pad off the bedside table. It was jammed full of scribbled phone numbers, business cards stuck on with clear tape, and more than a few stains from sloshed coffee mugs. I fluffed up the pillows and settled in, ready to attack the list. I’d find another band before Remy had a chance to back out of the whole deal.
This was my “make it work” moment, as Tim Gunn would say.
Remy came to get me for dinner about an hour later. He didn’t say a word, simply stood in the doorway until I turned to face him from the nest I’d created in the middle of the bed, surrounding myself with notebook pages, my phone and computer.
He crossed the room and in one swift movement, cleared aside all my papers, and pinned me under his body weight on the bed. My eyes went wide as I stared up at him. My body wanted him. Whenever he got this close, it didn’t matter what my brain or heart was telling me—my hips pivoted towards him, my lips parted, my nipples went hard, and my pussy started to pulse, desperate to have him inside me.
I arched my back so my breasts were pressed against his firm chest, but before I could get him to kiss me, he grabbed my wrists and held my arms above my head.
“I’m not tapping out. Livvie, don’t ever question my intentions again.” His voice was deep with the serious tone of his warning and a small shiver crept down my spine at the sound.
“I won’t,” I promised.
Only then did he bring his lips to mine, building the coiled tension within me with each long, slow, sensual kiss. His lips were soft on mine, but possessive and overbearing as he held my arms above me, still pinned to the bed.
“Remy,” I breathed, my lips still touching his.
A thousand unasked questions were running wild in my mind, but I couldn’t find a voice to speak any of them.
I wanted him so badly, but at what cost? To Remy? To me?
His lips parted mine and his tongue dipped into my mouth, exploring with small, hot strokes. I was powerless to stop him. I didn’t want him to stop.
I gave up trying to hold back and pushed aside the doubts plaguing me. I needed him. His touch, his breath mixing with mine, the feel of his fingertips on my body—there was nothing more I could do.
Remy’s free hand trailed down the exposed skin of my arm, down the side of my cheek, and over my breast. His touch was like a feather on my skin, so soft that it was like something from a dream. He gripped my wrists tightly enough that I couldn’t move, even if I somehow found the strength or desire to try, and yet, his touch was so gentle and sweet. The mix of the two—the harsh and soft—quickly got me spinning, not knowing what was going to come next.
Remy’s hand stilled at the elastic band of the sweats I’d thrown on, and he teased the skin between my t-shirt and pants with the tip of his thumb. I shivered as a bolt of heat scorched over my skin.
“Livvie, I want you to understand me. You need to see me,” Remy said, his voice low and soft.
Our eyes met and I saw a flicker of pain reflected back at me.
“I do, Remy. I see you.”
He kissed me again.This time the kiss quickly turned deep and each one that followed came quicker, until we were breathless in between each new meeting of our lips. Remy pulled my shirt off, over my head and stripped away the sweats, leaving me naked before him. He lowered his lips and teased my nipples with his teeth and tongue. I grabbed onto him, clinging to his strong back, when he pinned my arms back over my head. I moaned at the sensation of being immobilized under him, his powerful body taking full control of mine.
I was already soaking, desperate and ready for him. I needed him inside me. I arched against him as he slowly pulled at my tender nipples. He used one hand to bring the tip of his rock-hard cock to tease my clit. He groaned when he felt the wetness built up and after a moment of pause, he entered me with a slow thrust, giving me time to expand and stretch around him. I sucked in my breath and released it when he was finally deep inside me.
I’d missed this.
Remy’s eyes roamed up and down my naked body as he began slowly thrusting inside me before he brought them back up to my eyes. Once I was warmed up, he went hard and deep. I groaned at the sheer pleasure of each stroke and let my eyes flutter shut for a moment as I let the pleasure wash over me.
“Livvie, look at me. I need to see you,” Remy commanded.
I opened my eyes, and his were even darker and more intense. He thrust again and I called out, feeling more vulnerable than I ever had before. The lights were soft, but I knew Remy could see every inch of my naked body, and watching him watch me felt more intimate than anything we’d ever experienced together to that point. His eyes on mine as I gasped and writhed with pleasure was almost too much. I wanted the lights out, to hide. Sharing the moment, eyes wide open, was intense and exposing, especially after the tension of the past few days.
Remy’s grip on my wrists tightened as he got closer to release, and my hips bucked underneath him as my own pleasure rose inside. He was pulsing inside me when I crashed over the edge, a rush of relief rushing through me as I came hard against hi
m. Remy stayed inside me for a minute, letting me finish and catch my breath before he pulled out. He let go of my wrists and lowered onto the bed next to me. I rubbed my wrists, circulating the blood back into my hands. He hadn’t hurt me, but towards the end his grip had cut off the blood supply and left my hands feeling pins and needles.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, watching me intently.
I shook my head. “Just asleep, I think.”
He grabbed my wrist in one hand and planted a soft kiss where the blue veins were showing,then repeated the sweet gesture on the other one. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said when he finished.
I searched his eyes, remembering the glimmer of pain I’d seen there while we were making love. “I don’t want to hurt you either, baby.”
He nodded and made a noise like he was clearing his throat.
“Goodnight, Livvie.” He lifted up long enough to flick off the bedside lamp and then lay back down.
I curled up and let my hand rest on his chest, feeling every steady beat of his heart.
The heart that I was starting to see I had the power to break.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the dark.
Remy placed his finger over my lips, silencing me with his gentle touch. After a moment of silence, he pulled me closer to him, every inch of our skin melding together, and I closed my eyes.I guessed dinner would have to wait.
***
The next few weeks passed in a flurry as Remy and I both worked our asses off to fight against Christopher’s barriers and roadblocks to get meetings with bands and club promoters. We ended up expanding our reach to the outskirts of the city which made for long nights, and unfortunately, nights where we were on opposite ends of town and were more like passing ships in the night.
In some ways, things felt better between us. I was charged up with passion again—finally back on the streets and hustling to make things happen. I thrived on the high pressure, anxiety fueled nights of meeting bands and club owners and trying to sway them to take a chance on Conquer. Remy was convincing as hell and had worked his way through his list of contacts, and after a few solid weeks of work, we had a firm promotion strategy set in place and turned our attention to filling our talent roster.
After eight straight nights out, I finally allowed myself a day off to regroup and tackle some of my ever-growing personal to-do list filled with tasks that got shoved aside when things were so busy. Remy was out getting drinks with his friend JJ, whom I’d yet to meet, and I sat down at the kitchen island to go through my personal email box, catch up with friends, and balance my bank account.
After making myself a small salad and a warmed-up portion of the baked ziti Remy had prepared the night before, I went into Remy’s office in search of envelopes to send out some overdue credit card bills. I hadn’t let Remy know about the credit cards, instead opting to scrap together the money from my final paycheck and drained my paltry 401K to pay everything off. Remy had been covering all the bills since the day I’d moved in. He showered me with expensive gifts, new clothes—he paid for the penthouse and all expenses, meals, travel, and had even paid off my car loan without my knowledge. Although I was deeply grateful for his help, it still didn’t fully sit right to have someone else taking care of me so intimately. There were some things I wanted to do on my own.
Remy’s office was immaculate and tidy. Everything had a place and I figured it would be a quick in and out to find the envelopes. I stepped inside, feeling a slight twinge of guilt. It wasn’t that Remy had forbid me from entering the room, but it was his private space—his man-cave—and I felt like an intruder as I tiptoed across the plush carpet to the large built-in section of cabinets on the far wall. As suspected, the envelopes were all lined up and organized by size. Seriously, it was like shopping in an office supply store.
I was turning to leave when I spotted a pile of rolled up papers lying on the desk. I don’t know what came over me, but an intense curiosity drew me closer, and I unrolled the edge of one of the tubes to reveal blueprint-type paper. I set down the envelopes and unrolled the first tube entirely. It was definitely a blueprint, sketched out by hand, with notes on the edges that were clearly Remy’s handwriting.
I studied the pages, opening the others to reveal more of the same. They were all different scaled variations of a restaurant floor plan. His notes were a long list of different contacts, brand names, and even a few menu ideas and what looked like name considerations.
He’d been spending quite a few nights locked away in his office, and more often than not, it was where I found him when I got home from my late-night club scouting missions. I’d never asked what he was spending so much time on—possibly wrongly—assuming it had been something to do with Conquer, but now, it looked like it had more to do with his lost dream.
Was he planning to leave me, and pull his support from Conquer for this? I mean, why else draw up the blueprints and start picking out faucet designs? I’d known since the start that his heart wasn’t in the entertainment business, and that he was only hanging in there for my sake, but he’d been so adamant the last time I’d questioned him that I hadn’t dared to bring it up again.
I sank down into his office chair, my eyes slightly glazed over as I stared at the plans, wondering what it all meant for him, me, Conquer, and most of all, for our new relationship.
What else was he hiding in here? I wondered, looking around at the space, feeling more like an alien than ever.
I told myself to get out, before I found something I really wasn’t supposed to see…Oh, screw it.
It was like breaking a diet.I’d already had a taste of the chocolate cake, and now I wanted to eat the whole damned thing. Before I could pump the brakes, I’d rummaged through some type of informal daily schedule. It looked like he had a list of appointments booked for the next day. None of which I’d been told about, so they weren’t in regards to Conquer.
Which really could only mean one thing. He was leaving me.
He was biding his time, putting plans into motion, making sure he created a soft spot to land before jumping.
Shit. I buried my face in my hands and tried to breathe normally. “Don’t panic,” I whispered to myself.
The front door shut and I jolted out of the chair. I rolled the pages back up, left them in a heap that I hoped was similar enough to how I’d found them, and then bolted from the room. I shut the office door as softly as I could.
“Hey,” Remy said, rounding the corner just as my fingers slid from the knob.
“I was just getting some envelopes,” I said, holding up the small stack in my hands as proof.
Remy’s brow wrinkled. “Okay. Did you find everything you needed?”
“Yes.”
“Livvie, is everything all right?” The concern was growing on his face and I knew I needed to get it together.
I nodded and gave him my best false smile. “Uh huh. Just have some bills to pay, that’s all.”
Remy took the lead and went into the kitchen. My bills were scattered all across the kitchen island where I’d set up my temporary office station with my laptop and notebook. I tried to sweep the papers out of his view, but it was too late.
“What is all this? Is it for Conquer?” he asked, studying one of the statements.
“No, it’s nothing. I got it,” I said, swiping it away from him and stuffing all the pages under my laptop.
“Liv, you should have told me about these. I would’ve handled it,” he said, a slight hint of scolding in his voice. He hated when I didn’t let him do everything. Our relationship seemed like it was constantly on the verge of a battle of wills.
“I need to do things for myself, Remy. I can’t just put on blinders and pretend that nothing matters. That life is all about shopping trips, expensive dinners, and sex!” I raved, flinging my arms in the air.
“What’re you talking about? Livvie, why is it so hard for you to let me take care of you?”
“Ugh! Remy, I cannot—” I cu
t my glance away, not able to take the confused puppy eyes he was giving me. “I just need my independence. It seems like ever since I met you, everything has been out of control. The business, things with Tessa, my job. It’s like you’re pulling all the strings, and that’s not really what I want.”
Remy came around the counter and stood in front of me but I kept my eyes trained down the hall. “Livvie, look at me.” His voice was gentle but firm. I flicked my eyes back up to his. “I told you I’d take care of you. All of you. I’m not doing it because I don’t think you can do it on your own. It’s because I don’t want you to have to do it on your own.” He ran a finger down the side of my face and I melted under his soft touch.
“I know, Remy, but you have to understand that’s not how I was raised, and it’s definitely not what I’m used to.” I paused, wondering if I should bring up what I’d seen in his office. He’d practically caught me red-handed. Did he think I’d missed the extensive stack of blueprints on his desk? “If this doesn’t work, I need—”
“Wait. Stop. If this doesn’t work? What do you mean?”
I hesitated and dropped my gaze.
“Livvie? What do you mean?” he repeated.
I sighed. Might as well let it all hang out. “If we end, break up, or however you say it. I have to be able to take care of myself.”
Remy nodded and my heart broke at the sad look on his handsome face. I instantly wished I could take it all back. That I hadn’t let my own doubts, insecurities, and fears shadow over him.
“You know what, forget it,” I said, hoping it would help. I took a step back and he let me go.
I wasn’t sure what he was thinking—and too chicken shit to ask—but something had shifted and I wasn’t sure we would ever get back to how it used to be.
