Ruthless

by Deborah Bladon

  “It’s been years, Monica,” I hiss out her name. “Let it go. Let me go.”

  Chapter 33

  Bella

  I stand in the lobby of the Garent Industries building and stare at the man sitting on one of the black leather benches that border the windows overlooking Fifth Avenue.

  I’ve spent more than two hours waiting for Barrett to return to the office. He said he’d be back by four. When he didn’t show, I called him twice and texted him three times. There were decisions to be made regarding Empire Soaks. I took the liberty of handling a few matters myself. I left everything else for him to deal with.

  He doesn’t look like he’s in any shape to do that now.

  With his eyes closed, his head is leaning back against the glass. From this distance, he looks like he’s fast asleep.

  Maybe he is.

  The end of his tie is hanging out of one of the side pockets of his jacket. His shirt is unbuttoned enough that I can see the smooth skin of his chest as I near him. A late-day shadow of whiskers peppers his strong jawline.

  I look around, wondering how long he’s been here.

  Other Garent employees are heading out the double glass doors for the day, seemingly unaware that the man who signs their paychecks is parked on a bench just a few feet from where they are.

  I could follow them out and forget I ever saw him, but I don’t. Instead, I take a seat next to him. Anxiety washes over me. What am I supposed to do now? Do I wake him up? Should I sit here until he rouses on his own?

  I opt for the first choice. Tapping a hand on his knee, I lean in to whisper his name, but my hand is caught in his before I can get anything out of my mouth.

  “Sweet Bella,” he growls with his eyes still closed. “I’d recognize that perfume anywhere.”

  Bella. He’s never called me that.

  I lean in closer to him because I don’t want any nosy Garent employees to catch our exchange. “Are you okay?”

  He pries open one eye to glance at me. “What time is it?”

  I drop my gaze to my watch. “Six thirty.”

  “Shit,” he snaps. “I have work to do.”

  He’s in no shape to work. It’s obvious that he had a liquid lunch today that must have lasted for hours. I won’t ask about that. It’s none of my business.

  “You should go home,” I suggest. “Why don’t you head up to your penthouse and call it a day?”

  That lures his eyes to mine. “Will you come with me?”

  A flash of vulnerability crosses his expression. He looks tired and weary. The least I can do is help him to his apartment. I nod. “I’ll come.”

  His lips inch up into a sexy smile. “You will.”

  His words are simple, but there’s a promise woven into them. Maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part. I’ve imagined too many times what it would feel like to come with him inside me.

  He drops my hand to push himself to his feet. He wobbles slightly to the left before he corrects his stance. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go.”

  ***

  By the time he unlocks the door to his apartment, his phone has started ringing again. There were two incoming calls when we were in the elevator, but he silenced both of those immediately.

  “Should you get that?” I ask, crossing the threshold into the foyer.

  “Hell no.” He laughs, shutting the door behind me. “It’s my mother. I spent the afternoon with her. That’s my limit for today.”

  Relief washes over me. He was with his mom.

  I have no claim to him, but still, I’m glad that he wasn’t rolling around in a hotel bed with a woman. The mental image of that plagued me all afternoon.

  “Do you want a drink?”

  As tempted as I am, I shake my head. “I should go home.”

  Scratching his chin, he looks around the penthouse. “I’m hungry. Are you?”

  I’m famished. I ate a granola bar for lunch. I dug it out of the bottom drawer of my desk. The expiry date was four months ago, but once I took the first bite and lived, I gobbled it up.

  “Yes,” I admit on a sigh. “I was going to heat up leftovers at home.”

  “Sounds like you have a wild night ahead of you.”

  I can tell that he’s sobering up. His voice has leveled, and he’s standing in place, not leaning to the left anymore. Not to mention, that he was quick to dish out that sarcastic remark about my evening plans.

  Shedding his suit jacket, he looks over his shoulder at me. “I’ll order some food. What do you want?”

  I don’t want food. I want to kiss him. I want to touch him. I have a wild desire to unbutton his shirt and slide it from his shoulders so I can run my hands over his chest and abs.

  Rolling the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, he studies me. “You’re giving this a lot of thought. What will it be? Pizza? Greek? Do you want me to call Atlas 22? I can get them to send over a sampling of everything since you didn’t get to enjoy the food the night you crashed my date.”

  The reminder stings, but I don’t let it show. “Leave dinner to me. I know just what to get.”

  Chapter 34

  Bella

  The door to his penthouse is ajar when I get back with our dinner. I called Calvetti’s when Barrett excused himself to take a shower. I spoke with Marti. She was ready to get in a taxi and bring the food down here, but I convinced her to send it with one of the kitchen staff.

  I love my grandma, but if she set foot in this building with her food in her hands, she’d want to join Barrett and me at his dining room table. I wouldn’t escape the night without my boss learning a few of the most embarrassing stories from when I was a kid.

  “Is dinner here yet?” Barrett rounds the corner from the hallway that leads to his bedroom.

  Holy hell.

  Dressed in charcoal gray pants and a lightweight black sweater, he could double as a male model. His broad chest leads down to a trim waist.

  I tear my eyes away from him to hold up the two red insulated bags that contain the food that my grandma sent.

  I asked for the baked ravioli, but she told me she was sending the lobster linguine because she’d just finished making it. When I met Alfie, one of the kitchen staff, in the lobby just now, he told me that she’d packed an extra special treat just for me.

  I kissed him on his cheek and tried to slip a twenty-dollar bill into his palm. He pushed it back at me, warning me that he’d get fired if Marti ever found out that he took money from one of her grandchildren.

  “What did you settle on?” Barrett moves next to me as I place the bags on his large dining room table.

  It’s made of steel with black accents around the edges. The six black leather chairs that surround it are high-backed. It fits in with the décor of the space to a tee.

  Smiling proudly, I zip open the larger of the two bags. “My grandma made dinner for us.”

  His head bows as he takes in the aroma of the linguine and the unmistakable smell of freshly baked rosemary focaccia. “Damn. I don’t know if I’ve ever smelled anything this good before.”

  I glance to my left, meeting his gaze. “She’s the best cook I know.”

  He stalls with his eyes glued to mine. We stay that way for what feels like endless moments, although it’s only a few seconds.

  “I’ll get plates and utensils.” He starts toward his kitchen. “Is sparkling water good for you?”

  “It’s good for me and you,” I bounce back with a grin. “You’re sobering up nicely.”

  His laughter follows the sound of a cupboard door closing. “I should have had lunch, but nothing on the room service menu sounded appetizing, so I went with what I know. Whiskey.”

  I open the tray of lobster linguine and the brown paper bag containing the already cut, still-warm focaccia. Peering into the other insulated bag, I let out a squeal.

  “What was that for?” Barrett stalks toward me carrying a wooden tray. It holds plates, utensils, gray linen napkins, a large bottle of sparkling water,
and two glasses. “I know excitement when I hear it.”

  I can’t contain a smile. “She packed my favorite dessert. Honey ricotta cheesecake.”

  Setting the tray down, Barrett turns to face me. “I can’t wait to taste everything.”

  My eyes linger on his lips. They’re just the right shape and fullness. It must be incredible to kiss them.

  He touches his hand to mine. “Did I lose you for a second? You drifted away.”

  The brush of his fingers on my skin is electric. The need inside of me is coiled so tightly that I may burst if I don’t pull back. So I do. I take a step to the side, dropping my gaze to the food. “Let’s dig in.”

  Pulling out a chair, he motions for me to sit. “You have to thank your grandmother for me, Bella.”

  Bella. Again.

  Settling onto the leather, I whisper. “I like that.”

  He takes the seat at the head of the table, next to me. “You like what?”

  Looking up, I pull in a breath to quiet my nerves. “I like it when you call me Bella.”

  “It suits you.” He reaches for a plate, a napkin, and some utensils. “Isabella does too, but the more I get to know you, the more I see that you’re my Bella or a Bella. I meant you’re more a Bella than an Isabella.”

  His Bella.

  It may have been just a slip of his tongue, but I liked the way it sounded and how it made me feel even if it was only for a split second in time.

  ***

  Dale: Hey beautiful.

  My eyes drop to my phone’s screen and the incoming message. The chime lures Barrett’s gaze to it too.

  Dammit. I meant to change the settings on the messaging app so that my incoming texts don’t pop up on my lock screen.

  Dropping my fork on my plate, I slide the phone closer to me, just as another text arrives.

  Dale: I’m still waiting for an answer to my big question.

  Barrett clears his throat. “If you’re going to Philadelphia to visit him, you need to run the dates by me first.”

  What the hell?

  I take a second to process what he said and what it means. Drawing in a deep breath, I look him straight in the eye. “You read the letter, didn’t you?”

  Our pleasant dinner just ran into a roadblock in the form of my boss snooping through my desk. Dale dropped off an envelope at Garent’s reception on his way to the airport. Barrett handed it to me sealed which means that he read it after I’d opened it.

  Setting his fork down next to his half-eaten slice of cheesecake, he nods. “I did.”

  That sets me on my feet. “You had no right to do that.”

  He’s up too, chasing me down as I head away from the table. His hand on my elbow stops me just as I reach the living room.

  I turn and face him. “Why would you do that? I told you it was personal.”

  “Why did you listen to my phone conversation the day you came to the office early?”

  Busted.

  His hand slides down my arm to circle my wrist. “Curiosity, Bella. I was curious. It was the same for you when you heard me chew out my father.”

  I step back in shock. He knew I was there? He was talking to his father?

  Reading my expression, his tone softens. “I smelled coffee. When you took off, I heard your heels on the floor. I know you hid in the washroom.”

  “You didn’t say anything,” I whisper, bowing my head in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

  His finger finds my chin. Tilting it up until my eyes meet his, he smiles. “You did mean to eavesdrop. Just as I meant to read the letter.”

  Chapter 35

  Bella

  He’s right. I can’t argue his point. My eavesdropping was intentional. I had no idea that I was listening to his side of a conversation with his dad. His sister was the woman he was talking about. I wasn’t aware he had a sibling. I didn’t bother researching his family the night I was drooling over pictures of him online.

  His hand leaves my chin, and I instantly feel bereft. I’ve never craved the touch of a man as much as I crave his. I shouldn’t, but I can’t control the need I feel every time I’m near him.

  I cover my mouth with my hand to hide the heavy sigh that escapes me. My lungs ache. My body is both numb and on fire. Everything’s changed, yet it all still feels the same.

  He doesn’t say anything, so I take the reins. “You have a sister?”

  It’s an obvious question after his confession that the man he was talking to was his dad. It’s hard for me to imagine a confrontation like that with my dad.

  “Three.” His arms cross his chest. “Technically, they’re all half-sisters. We share the same father. There are three mothers in the equation, including mine.”

  “Where do you fall in that? Are you the oldest, the youngest or in the middle?” I ask trying to piece his family tree together.

  “Oldest.” He half-smiles. “One is three years younger than me. Another is seven years my junior and then, last but not least is Henrietta. She’s four.”

  Thirty years separate him and his youngest sibling. The span between Gina and me is barely three years, and I sometimes wonder if we have anything in common.

  “My father likes being a father.” He laughs. “To my sisters more than to me.”

  His confession is marred by a pained look behind the laugh. From the outside looking in, I can tell it’s a complicated situation.

  “I’ve lost touch with my sisters.” He pushes a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to bridge the gap since two of them live here.”

  “In New York?”

  Circling his thumb over my wrist, he nods. “My dad found love and a vineyard in California a few years ago, so Henrietta is a west coast kid. Before that, he settled here after my folks split up.”

  The sound of my phone chiming lures his gaze over his shoulder toward the table. When he turns his attention back to me, his jaw is clenched. “Dale is still waiting for an answer to his big question. Are you going to visit him in Philly?”

  The invitation was in the letter Dale handwrote me. He thanked me for spending time with him and offered to pay for my flight to his hometown so we could “explore the attraction.”

  I responded the day after I opened the letter, telling him that I wasn’t sure if I could get away from New York. It was meant to be a soft letdown. Dale’s persistence is admirable. He’s texted me almost on the daily asking if I could steal away for a weekend.

  “You haven’t said no to him yet,” Barrett goes on, his gaze searching my face. “That means you’re still considering it.”

  I study him trying to grasp what he’s thinking, but it’s impossible, so I ask a question that I have no right to ask my boss. “Why does it matter to you if I go?”

  His hand slides up my arm. Slow grazes of his fingertips over my skin send a shiver through me. I almost let out an audible moan when his hand reaches the back of my neck.

  “It matters, Bella.”

  I rest a hand on his chest. The unmistakable beat of his heart falls in rhythm with mine. “How?”

  He leans forward, his breath grazing over my cheek. “You know how. You feel this.”

  “This?” I question on a sigh.

  “This,” he repeats before he takes my mouth in a kiss that leaves me breathless in a way I’ve never felt before.

  ***

  My fingers are tangled in his hair when I part my lips to deepen the kiss. He moans a second before I do. Our smiles touch in the heated moment. It’s a brief break from the intensity before his hand slides down to cup my ass.

  He whispers something against my lips, and then again. The second time I make out the words. “You’re fired.”

  Recoiling, I slap a hand over his hard chest. Stumbling back, I bark out the only word I can manage. “What?”

  His hands are on me again, cupping the back of my neck, pressing against the small of my back. “I can’t fuck you if you work for me.”

  That word, the rawness of hi
s need, makes my knees weak. I stumble into him. “Barrett.”

  “I’ll rehire you in the morning.” His lips feather kisses over the skin on the side of my neck. “Tonight, I need you. Jesus, I want you so bad.”

  I feel the same. Running a finger over his chin, I look up into his eyes. “I want you too. I won’t tell anyone. Ivan won’t know.”

  He catches my hand in his. Nipping on my index finger, he growls. “He can’t know.”

  The burst of pain clenches my core. I’m wound so tightly. I’ll come as soon as he touches me there, anywhere. “It’s our secret.”

  He kisses me again. This time it’s softer. Tenderness lingers between us when he cups my face in his hands. “My bed, Bella. Now.”

  I won’t argue with him. I can’t. I want this man more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.

  Wrapping an arm around my waist, he takes a step forward. I do too. A faint knock at the door halts my second step.

  No. Please, no. Don’t let anything interrupt this perfect moment.

  Glancing at me, his brows rise. “Who the fuck is that?”

  I let out a soft laugh. “You tell me. You’re the one who lives here.”

  Another knock lures his gaze to the door. “Goddammit. The security guard at the front desk is about to lose his job.”

  I don’t know if he’s joking or not. Sighing, I state the obvious. “You should answer it. Maybe it’s important.”

  Wrapping his arms around me, he kisses my neck. “Unless the building is on fire, it’s not important.”

  A loud thud stops his lips just under my ear.

  “Give me ten seconds to tell whoever that is to go to hell.”

  I nod as I watch him stalk to the door. Nerves dance in my stomach. What if it’s a woman who has already been here? I didn’t bother to ask if he’s involved with anyone. Why the hell didn’t I do that?

  I face the door as he swings it open.