by M. S. Parker
It was odd how easily I’d adjusted to having money at my disposal. It could be gone in a blink. Soon, I'd find out whether or not I’d be going back to living on a shoestring budget.
The doorman, Stuart, saw me the moment I started walking up to the building and his eyes widened. He came rushing toward me. “Miss Aleena! Mr. Snow has been worried sick. Where have you been?”
At the sound of Dominic’s name, my heart lurched. “Out.” I kept my response short and sweet. Or maybe not so sweet, I decided after Stuart drew back at the abruptness of my voice.
“Are you alright?” he asked softly, almost hesitantly.
In a more moderate tone, I said, “I’m well enough. I had a rough couple of days.”
I glanced upward, as though it would give me the answer to my next question. “Is he up there?”
Slowly, he shook his head. “No. Mr. Snow went to the house in the Hamptons yesterday, thinking he might find you there. He has called several times asking if you’ve returned. I’ll call him and let him—”
“No!” I snapped, my insides freezing at the thought of seeing him. I wasn't ready.
Stuart went still. Then he looked away.
He looked terribly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Miss Davison, but I must let him know you’re here. It was a direct order.”
“An order,” I said slowly. Why wasn’t I surprised? I ran my tongue across my teeth and then nodded. “Fine.”
Without another word, I walked inside.
***
The penthouse was quiet.
It had been cleaned and put to rights and I stood there, inside the door, staring at the couch for a moment, in the same place Jacqueline had stood on Friday. I twisted a strand of hair around my finger, imagining I could hear the murmur of his voice in my ear, the way his fingers had tangled in my hair and tugged, my skin burning under the harsh impact of his hand after he’d spanked me.
Then I went cold as I recalled his mother’s words.
She might as well have backhanded me—it probably would have done less damage. Physical force was something I could have dealt with much easier. Hit her back, threaten to press charges. Ruin her precious reputation.
But the cool disdain in her eyes?
It hadn't even been hate.
I could handle hate. That had been different. Like I wasn't even worth the effort to feel anything but disapproval. I'd been dismissed, brushed aside like I didn't matter.
The sound of the phone ringing made me jump. I ignored it. I already knew who was calling. Just enough time had passed for Stuart to have spoken with Dominic and then for Dominic to have called the house phone.
When I didn’t answer, I heard a faint beep.
His voice came rolling out.
It made me shiver.
It also made me furious.
“Aleena,” he said, his voice soft. “I know you’re there. Stuart called me…please answer.”
“Not likely.”
I shut the door behind me and calmly walked to my small apartment. Dominic continued to speak, but I deliberately blocked him out.
When I got to my apartment, I groaned. My cell phone was in there.
It was ringing now.
I walked over, picked it up and turned it off.
The phone beside the fat, comfortable armchair started to ring.
I headed into the bathroom.
I’d take a bath. There were no phones in the damn bathroom.
But halfway there, I stopped.
Dominic was probably on his way back here. I had a lock to my apartment, but I didn’t trust him not to let himself in and I wanted to be left alone. He and I could fight it out later…if he cared enough.
For now, I needed time to clear my head.
I scrawled a note on a piece of paper, taped it to my door and then went back inside. Then I took a long, slow look around my apartment. Finally, my gaze landed on the fat armchair.
It would have to work.
It fit, but just barely. The apartment’s entry way was small, forming an L shape that led into the living room. Sweating and out of breath, I stepped back and eyed the chair.
If the penthouse caught on fire while I was in the bathroom, I was screwed.
But I was willing to take that risk.
Turning on my heel, I strode into the bathroom.
Chapter 4
Dominic
The phone rang. And rang. And rang.
It took me a moment to realize that she really wasn’t going to answer.
Blowing out a controlled breath, I called Stuart.
“Yes, sir?”
“She didn’t leave again, did she?”
Stuart hesitated for a moment before he finally answered, “Not by this door, sir. And I have been watching almost non-stop.”
I wanted to tell him that wasn’t good enough, but I stopped myself. I wasn’t the only one who lived in the building.
Forcing myself to count to ten, I checked the time. It would take another hour and a half to get there. There wasn’t much traffic, but I couldn’t make the distance any shorter. “How is she?”
“Sir?”
“Stuart, for fuck’s sake.” The past thirty plus hours had shattered my control. I was tired, my head hurt, I wanted some coffee and I hadn’t gotten around to taking a shower before Stuart had called and told me that Aleena was there. My mood was so far down below miserable, it wasn’t even funny. “How is she? Is she okay?”
“No.” His voice was sharp.
I’d known Stuart since I’d moved into the penthouse. He was a friendly kind of guy. When he’d shown me pictures of a round, chubby-cheeked newborn baby of indeterminate sex, I’d had Fawna send a gift to him and his wife. His wife had thanked me with chocolate chip cookies and he’d thanked me with a handshake and tears in his eyes that had left me feeling uncomfortable.
And this was the first time I’d ever heard the first edge of disapproval in his voice.
I knew he adored Aleena. Just about everybody who met her did and in that short, simple answer, I’d heard a hundred things.
“She’s upset, isn’t she?”
“It would seem so, sir.”
Flexing my hands on the steering wheel, I focused on the road. I could fix this. My mother could be a bitch and I knew it, but I had to believe it wasn't too late. “Can somebody cover for you while you go check on her?”
“It might be best, sir, if we give her some time alone.”
“Dammit, Stu! She’s had the whole damn weekend!”
There was another one of those faint pauses and then Stuart, his voice stiff and formal, replied. “Of course, sir. I’ll see to it.”
He disconnected and I almost threw the phone out the window.
There were times when I knew I was getting close to the line into serious asshole territory. The past couple days, I suspected I’d fallen clear over. And maybe crawled a couple feet further.
***
Ninety minutes could speed by if distracted, having fun or otherwise engaged.
On the flip-side, ninety minutes could also last an eternity.
I couldn't say the ninety minutes it took to get back to Manhattan that day were the longest ninety minutes of my life. After all, I’d spent a year in hell.
But those minutes—actually, that entire weekend—had dragged by inexorably and by the time I arrived at the penthouse, I was so ramped up and ready to be done, I thought I’d go mad.
Okay, Aleena. We’re having this out now, I thought grimly as I climbed out of the car. I rarely drove myself. I preferred to deal with business while somebody else handled the wheel, but this time around, I hadn’t wanted to wait for the driver. Nor had I had the patience for speed limits. Driving had been bad enough. If I'd had to sit in the back with nothing to do but wait, I would've screamed.
Tossing my keys toward Stuart, I said, “She’s still here?”
He nodded politely.
He’d called twenty minutes after we’d spoken and informed me tha
t Aleena had requested some time alone.
Fine.
She’d had it.
We could discuss this like rational adults now.
Rational, I told myself a few minutes later as I let myself inside. A quick look around told me Aleena wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen and the utter silence would have made me think she wasn’t even there, but I caught a faint noise coming from her personal apartment. She was here.
Rational. Rational.... We’d be rational about it. We’d be rational and I’d be calm and I’d apologize for how my mother had acted and she’d understand and—
“Son of a bitch,” I growled, snatching the note from the door.
She’d written me a fucking note?
D.
I’m tired and need time to think. Please respect this. We can talk later.
A.
“Tired?”
I wadded up the note and spun around, hurling across the wide, open steps that led down into the main area of the penthouse. She was tired?
Did she have any idea what I’d been going through? How scared I’d been?
I turned back and grabbed the doorknob, ready to force my way inside and demand she talk to me.
Then, slowly, I let go.
Staring at the door, I backed away.
A memory of her face as she’d looked Friday night ran through my mind and I closed my eyes.
Time.
Yeah. Okay.
I’d give her some time.
Feeling like I’d aged a decade since I’d pulled my car up to the curb, I moved slowly down the steps and sat down, her door in view.
I didn't move.
I just sat there and listened.
But other than the faint noise I could hear from her TV, I didn’t hear a single thing from Aleena’s apartment all night.
Chapter 5
Aleena
My alarm blared Monday morning, not that I’d needed it.
I hadn’t slept more than a few hours and I’d been awake since before four. I spent the hours dealing with email and trying to prepare myself for...something.
That was the thing. I didn’t know what I was preparing myself for.
We needed to talk and I knew it had to happen, but I wasn’t ready to do it before we went to work.
So, we do it after.
That decision made, I was ready a good thirty minutes earlier than normal and since I knew his schedule like the back of my hand, I planned my exit strategy to coincide with the time I knew he’d be showering.
Part of me wished he’d be waiting for me.
I even held my breath as I glanced around the wide-open area that was revealed as I came down the hall that led to the stairs. But he wasn’t there and I could faintly hear the low thrum of water.
Immediately, there was an image on my mind of that long, golden body standing under a fall of water and my belly got all hot and tight, my nipples hardening as they rubbed against the silk of my bra.
Before the water could shut off, I hurried down the stairs and slid out the front door.
I was down in the quiet elegance of the lobby chatting with the morning doorman when Dominic called.
“Where are you?” he demanded, his voice flat.
“Downstairs, Mr. Snow,” I said calmly, although my heart skipped a few beats. “We’ve got a busy morning and I was going over a few things, checking on the delivery of the breakfast I ordered for the morning meeting and–”
“Fine.” The word was clipped, followed by the sound of the call being cut off.
He emerged from the elevator a few minutes later and I swallowed. Convulsively, I tightened my fingers on the strap of my bag. It was a tidy little affair that served as both purse and briefcase and just then, it kept me from reaching for him.
“We need to talk,” he said, coming in close and taking up all of my personal space and then some.
“I'm aware of that.” I managed a cool tone. “I just don't think this is the time.”
“Oh?” That single syllable seemed to carry the perfect amount of curiosity and royal demand. I had the fleeting idea that a hundred, maybe two hundred years ago, he would have been perfectly at home striding down a street in London, perhaps Paris—old world aristocracy of course—clad in a coat of velvet with one of those ruffled shirts men used to wear, over a pair of tight trousers that ended in a pair of polished boots right up to his knees, giving orders naturally and watching as the peasants scrambled to obey. We were really from different worlds.
As I looked away, Dominic reached up and brushed his thumb across my chin. “When is the time, Aleena?”
Startled by the touch—right here in public—I jerked back.
Heat…and something else…glowed in his eyes.
“I…” I cleared my throat and pretended to check the time. “Tonight, Dominic. We can talk tonight.”
A muscle tensed in his jaw.
He wanted to argue with me. I could tell.
Part of me wished he would.
But that wouldn’t happen. I wasn’t lying. We did have a busy day ahead of us and Dominic had some important business meetings to attend to. That pretty much decided it right there.
For Dominic, business came first. First, last and always. Maybe if he had said, fuck that. Fuck the meetings, we’re doing this now, it would have done something to ease the misery inside me.
But he didn’t.
We left.
***
It was the day from hell, even worse than the week after the debacle with the party planner.
Everything was stilted and formal. One thing was certain. Molly hadn’t been wrong when she’d said I needed to deal with this. And Dominic hadn’t been wrong, either.
We had to talk.
Either I could handle what had happened Friday or not. It was as simple as that. I had to figure out if I could let it go, and if I couldn’t, then I’d have to turn in my notice.
The meetings that normally fascinated me seemed boring and interminable. I pulled up reports for Dominic and jotted down notes. I made personal meetings and dealt with emails, all while on edge most of the day. Constantly, I could feel his eyes on me. When I’d look up, he would be looking elsewhere, but as soon as I looked away, I’d feel him studying me again.
It was enough to make any sane girl crazy and at that point, I didn’t feel particularly sane.
Each minute dragged on into eternity, right up until four o’clock.
The first month leading up to the opening of Dominic’s newest business, we’d often worked up until seven or later, but it had been open a few weeks now and thanks to the excellent staff he’d found, he had started leaving around five, which had left me free to do the same.
Suddenly, time didn’t go slow anymore. Those seconds seemed to speed by. It was like I’d fallen through a time warp. Minutes became seconds and I would have done anything to slow that clock down. I still didn’t know what I was going to say to him and I had no idea what he planned to say to me.
It was 4:39 when I locked myself in the bathroom. With my back to the door, I punched in a desperate message to Molly. Silencing the ring tone, I hoped and prayed she wouldn’t be working.
Her response came up almost right away.
Yeah, I'm working. But I'm on my break. What's up?
I punched in my response.
We haven't talked yet. We're getting ready to after work. What am I supposed to say to him?
Her answer came up:
That's easy. Tell him what you feel. Tell him what you want.
She called that easy? Hello, I didn't even know what I wanted.
I told her that. She responded back in the same matter of fact, no nonsense way.
Honey, you know what you want. You want him to know that he hurt you and you want an apology and you want to know that it's not going to happen again. If that bitch of a mother of his attacks you like that again, he needs to address it. He needs to address it right then and right there and tell her she can’t talk to y
ou that way. And next time you need to be more of a bitch yourself right back to her.
I didn't know how to respond to that. She wasn't wrong.
But could I actually say that to him?
When I didn't respond right away, Molly sent me another text.
Break's wrapping up and I got to go. Look, maybe he’s just into you because you’re hot and sexy and he wants you. If that’s the case, find out, deal with it and move on because you deserve more. But if it could be more…if it is more, you’ve got to talk to him and work it out. You’ve got a right to expect him to care about you and he should know he hurt you. Either you two have something or you don’t. If you do, you've got a right to know these things. And if he cares about you, you’ve got a right to expect these things. And you owe it to yourself to stand up for yourself. You deserve better.
Two seconds later, another message came through.
Love you sweetie. Stand up. You can do it.
Pressing my head against the door, I clutched the phone tightly. Stand up.
Five o’clock rolled around and I gathered my things. But Dominic wasn’t in the office.
After a few moments, I went out to where his administrative assistant worked. The two of us had gotten to know each other fairly well and she shot me a look that managed to bring a weary smile to my face.
“I don’t know about you, but that was one lousy Monday,” Amber said softly as she held out a note. “From Mr. Snow.”
“Yeah.” I nodded in agreement and then looked down at the note.
I managed not to make any reaction as I read it and gave her a faint smile when I looked back up. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
The note, I crumpled in my hand.
You can take the car home. I’ll be there later this evening.
So much for talking.
And I supposed that answered the unspoken question about what I meant to him.
I had Chinese delivered. Listlessly poking at the beef and broccoli for a few minutes, I gave up and just finished off the hot and sour soup, staring out my window into the park. I wanted summer. I wanted longer days so I could take walks in the evening. I also wanted warmth and sunlight and something other than the chill in the air when I went outside.
