by M. E. Carter
“Not in my kitchen. Well, I mean, there won’t be once I start cooking. It’s so much better for you and right now there are too many options.”
“I honestly don’t know what I’ll be in the mood for tomorrow,” she says around the fries in her mouth. “But pizza is harder to re-heat. So, let’s try the enchiladas. But please, not with cauliflower.”
“Agreed. I’ll make it with love instead, just for you.”
She waggles her eyebrows. “Now you’re talking. A little love is all we need.”
“And low carb recipes.”
Her face falls. “Don’t remind me.”
I nod in understanding as she pushes her plate toward me so I can eat more fries. We’ll try again on Day Three.
Chapter Four
CARLOS
“Hey, Dad,” I answer when he catches me on my cell as I walk the last block to work. It’s an early morning phone call, which is odd for him. Something must be up.
“Hey, son. How’s the job treating ya?” Always the same question.
“Business is good. Can’t complain.” Always the same answer. “You’re calling awfully early, aren’t you? Sorry,” I murmur and wave to a passerby as we accidentally graze each other. It’s definitely early enough that not everyone has their balance yet.
“I wanted to catch you before work. See what you might be up to tonight?”
Oh, geez. I have a bad feeling I know where this is going, and I really don’t want to do it again. Quickly, I flip through my mental calendar, praying for an out.
“Not sure. I need to get to work and check my calendar. Why, what’s up?” I already know, but maybe I bought myself some time.
“Oh, I was hoping to introduce you to my new girlfriend.”
Nailed it. Dammit.
My dad is a great guy. He’s always been an involved father and always makes sure I know he loves me. For that reason alone, I want him to always be happy, which is why I hate trying to avoid him. I’ve just been through this more times than I can count and don’t want anything to do with his love life.
Inevitably, he’ll claim some woman is the love of his life. She’ll have stars in her eyes and begin planning the wedding. Then, suddenly, he’ll realize he’s not the settling down type and leave her heartbroken. Nine times out of ten, he’ll also leave her my phone number, under the guise of “in case of emergency,” and I’ll field drunken calls from those he left behind. It’s the reason I no longer answer calls from numbers I don’t recognize.
It’s also why I’m damn sure anyone I date knows where I stand on relationships.
I don’t have them. Ever.
Don’t get me wrong, I inherited my love of women from my father. I love the way they smell, the way they taste, the way they feel. I love the sounds they make when they laugh. And I definitely love the way they moan underneath me.
But what I got from my mom, besides my blue eyes, is to recognize people’s feelings and he hurts lots of them. No, I don’t think my dad yanks his dates around on purpose. I think he’s just too self-absorbed to realize the destruction he leaves in his wake. I have no interest in breaking hearts like that. I have too much respect for other people.
“Oh? How long have you been dating?” I ask with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.
“What’s it been, sweetie? About a month now?”
Just as I suspected, she’s there. It was probably her idea to meet me. I can practically see him sitting at his kitchen table, his latest girlfriend with her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he makes plans for us to have an early dinner at some fancy restaurant. It’s a scene I’ve been privy to before.
Someone murmurs in the background and then I swear I hear kissing noises. So, I do the only think I can think—I quickly cut them off. “So not long, huh?”
“Not long at all,” my dad says, his voice sounding more growly than normal which gives me a visual image I really don’t appreciate. “But when you know, you know.”
“Sure, sure.” More kissy noises, which makes me wildly uncomfortable, but also may give me the out I need. “Hey, listen, I’m at the office so I’ll give you a call once I get settled, okay?”
“Sounds good, son. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I hang up as quickly as possible and shake my head to rid myself of the images. I have a busy day today and it starts with trying to catch the eye of the woman who works downstairs. She’s one of the many reasons I make sure to look my best every day. Her, and because it makes me feel good to know I can rock a suit with the best of them.
It helps that I spare no expense when it comes to my threads. Sure, at the gym or at home, I’m fine with dressing down and relaxing. Hell, the suit I met Quinn in was on the clearance rack at the outlet mall. There’s no shame in that. But I’ve come up from those days of penny pinching with my amazing single mother. And putting on a finely tailored Armani jacket with pants that hug my butt in places women dream of—now that’s a seriously good feeling.
I make no apologies for loving how I look. I work hard on my body so I can play hard with it later. Working out isn’t enough. I’m also sure that all my hair everywhere is groomed to perfection. My clothes are always properly stitched, no buttons missing. And dental hygiene never, ever goes on the wayside.
Catching the woman who works downstairs eyeing my backside just proves what I already know.
I’m a catch.
I’m handsome. I’m fit. I’m wealthy enough to have a nice apartment in Hyde Park. You can’t do much better than that.
Adjusting my cuffs, I finally catch her eye in the reflection of the elevator doors. A small blush covers the apples of her cheeks. Interesting. I’ve noticed her a few times before. Her cropped blond hair always hangs loose, barely brushing her shoulders. Short, flowy skirts with black pantyhose and stilettos are her go-to. I bet there’s a garter under there. And red lips seem to be her trademark. I can think of a few things I could do with those red lips. I think it’s time I finally introduced myself.
As soon as all the other worker bees exit our ride, she and I step in and turn to face front. Her, holding some files in her arms. Me, putting my hands in my pockets to fiddle with the keys stashed in there, while disguising my need to fidget. My mother always called it ADHD. My doctor called it anxiety. I call it my brain moving faster than almost everyone else around me and channeling it appropriately.
“Six, please,” she requests politely. I press my thumb to the correct number and just for show, make sure she sees that I press the eighth floor for myself.
Her eyes widen momentarily, and I know she’s impressed. Who can blame her? Everyone knows Cipher Systems. We’re the best in the security business.
I return to my spot, but not even my fidgeting distracts me from the woman. I watch as she bites the corner of her lip, the sexual tension palpable in the lift. I turn my body ever so slightly toward her. With only a few floors to travel, I’ll only have a short amount of time to introduce myself and have a conversation.
Just as the doors are about to close, a beefy hand appears, and the doors fly back open revealing Stan Willis. I sigh deeply knowing my window of opportunity has officially closed.
Stan is one of the lieutenants in our office. He’s not currently in the military, but that’s what my boss Quinn calls the massive men he hires to run the security operations side of Cipher Systems.
All of them are gigantic. All of them are beyond intelligent. All of them are lethal if they catch you trying to harm one of their clients. Worst of all, for whatever reason, they’re all handsome, in a meathead kind of way, if you ask me. I’m pretty sure one of our marketing directors tried to convince Quinn to create a “Security Men” calendar at one point. Thank God, that was nixed. The last thing I need is a bunch of horny women having to be escorted from the building on the regular.
Not that I’m jealous. My co-workers are also the best group of guys you could ever know. Kind and loyal, they make everyone feel at ease. But wo
rking in an office that’s run with military precision by a bunch of guys that could be mistaken for Navy Seals or professional athletes in both physique and brains isn’t exactly the biggest confidence booster for a guy like me. I barely pass for six feet. That makes me a solid half a foot shorter than Stan. And judging by how the downstairs woman’s eyes are no longer looking my direction, but his, she notices the difference as well.
I love my job. I really do. But no matter how attractive I may be everywhere else, working here can be a blow to my ego.
Standing on the opposite side of the woman, Stan looks over her head toward me and eyes me up and down. “Nice threads. New suit?”
I don’t need to look in the reflection to notice the woman’s reaction to his deep voice. She practically melts on the spot. So much for those after dinner plans I was hoping she’d be interested in.
“New tie,” I answer more confidently than I feel.
He gives a manly nod of approval. “That pattern is cool. And the purple makes your eyes pop.”
I freeze, one eyebrow shooting up to my hairline.
He shrugs his massive shoulders and turns to face front again. “What? I just call it like I see it.”
“He’s not wrong,” the woman adds as the elevator slows to a stop. “You should wear ties like that more often.” Then she steps out the door and turns the corner, leaving me confused as to what just happened.
Stan chuckles and claps me on the back. “Dude, she’s into you. Have you asked her out? She’s cute.”
“I was about to when you stuck your hands in our elevator and got on with us.”
He looks slightly apologetic, although I don’t believe it for a second. That’s another thing all the lieutenants are—bullshitters. “Sorry, man.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No. I’m really not,” he responds with a smile and shake of his head. “But I am glad I caught you. You’re in charge of the new benefits package, right?”
And back to business as normal. As the Chief Operations Officer and man in charge of the entire administrative side of Cipher Systems, the coordination of the big Human Resources jobs falls on my shoulders. Yes, I have a benefits coordinator, but it’s a big undertaking that must go through a new approval process every year. Mostly, it’s making sure the company isn’t getting screwed out of any money and the employees aren’t getting screwed out of good healthcare. This year’s plan was pretty much the same as last year’s, so it was a no-brainer. But starting the day off with this question still puts me on edge.
“Not directly in charge, but the team reports to me. Why? What’s up?”
The elevator doors open again, and we stroll through the lobby of Cipher Systems, nodding our heads at the receptionist in greeting as we talk. I make a mental note that we need to hire a second person for the front as our workload continues to increase.
“It’s not a huge deal, I guess.” I’m trying to keep pace with Stan, but his steps are slightly longer than mine. Suddenly, I’m glad I’ve taken so many spin classes lately to keep my cardio abilities up. “I tried to make an appointment with my regular dentist, but they said our insurance dropped them as a provider with no explanation.”
I furrow my brow. That’s odd. “It must be a glitch in the paperwork. I’ll make a call and see what’s up.”
“Thanks, man.” He claps me on my shoulder again. If he does it too many more times, I might lose some feeling in my arm. “And don’t take so long to ask the cutie out next time.”
He turns tail and heads back the way we came, no doubt going to check in with the security team and what new project we’re working on now. I stay away from that side of things as much as possible. It’s interesting, sure. But half the time they’re talking about things that go way over my head. I’m not dumb by any stretch. I earned my MBA like everyone else. But the inner workings of their technology is not my forte. Add onto it that I feel like a shrimp around them and no thanks. I don’t need that kind of negativity.
No, I prefer to hang out and be the big fish on this side of the pond. I have great staff who enjoy working together. I have a nice corner office with big windows. And I keep bankers’ hours so my entire life doesn’t revolve around my job. It’s exactly the way I like it.
The only real stressor is my boss. Ever since Quinn Sullivan’s wife, Janie, got pregnant, he’s been difficult to deal with. I get that she’s the love of his life and all that romantic crap I stay far away from, but he’s rocketed himself from being a heavily involved boss into an abrasive, unfiltered micromanaging boss. He’s been working from home a lot lately to take care of Janie after she had a health scare and was put on mandatory bed rest, but every once in a while, he still pops in. These days, it’s best to be out of his line of sight when he shows up.
“Morning, Teresa.” I smile at my assistant as she hands me a stack of papers. That’s the way we start every morning— with her handing me all the pre-sorted items I need to deal with, in a neat little stack—the top priority always front and center for me to see and prepare for. “How’s everything going so far?”
This is where a couple of odd things happen simultaneously. First, I see Steven, another lieutenant, coming my direction. The lieutenants never come on this side of the office unless something’s wrong.
Second, Teresa’s reaction to my question is different. She’s not smiling. As I look closer, I realize she looks stressed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Sir.” She stands up quickly and runs her hands down her pencil skirt, like she’s nervous and not quite sure what to do with her hands. I know she’s new here, but not new enough for me to realize this overly anxious reaction seems odd. “It’s just, um, Mr. Sullivan is waiting for you in your office.”
Before I can do more than freeze and look at her in question, Steven swivels and goes back the way he came. Looks like I’m not the only one who prefers hiding from Quinn these days. “I thought he was at home with Janie today.”
Teresa licks her lips nervously. “He was. Mr. Sullivan said something about their medical coverage being denied.”
My head drops to my chest. Another one? Shit. “That probably explains why Steven was headed this direction.”
“Just so you know, Mr. Sullivan was very angry. Said something about benefits being the last thing on his list of things to worry when his wife needs Vicuna yarn that can only be made by sheering wild Vicuna found native to the Andes Mountains every three years, and the only Vicuna yarn distributor is out of stock.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head because “I don’t even know what that means,” I whisper to myself. With Quinn, there is no telling. “Okay. I’ll deal with it.” I suck in a breath and reach for the doorknob, not sure what to expect when I walk in. Turning back to my assistant I add, “And, Teresa, if I don’t make it out alive, let my mother know I love her.”
Teresa gives me what is probably supposed to be a reassuring smile, but we both know it’s a lie. When Quinn is on a rampage, you never know what is going to happen behind closed doors.
Chapter Five
RIAN
Rushing into the bridal shop, I wave off the sales associate that tries to greet me and race straight to my sister who is pacing in front of a group of mirrors.
“I’m here!” Dropping my bag on the red velvet couch, I barely notice the strap whacks one of the bridesmaids sitting there. She doesn’t even look up from her phone when it hits her arm. “I’m sorry I’m late, Laney. The El was running behind schedule for some reason.”
“You could’ve planned ahead, Rian. I’m only getting married once in my lifetime. This dress fitting is important.”
I’m tempted to spout off the rising divorce statistics but knowing it will either fall on deaf ears or create unnecessary stress, I bite my tongue. Besides, my sister has been my best friend since we were little. It’s only been since she started planning her nuptials that she’s become extremely difficult to be around.
/> “I know,” I acquiesce, but only partially. “It’s so important you forgot to tell me about it until this morning.”
My playful poke is completely ignored. Instead, she claps her hands together to get everyone’s attention. Slowly, they all look up from their smart phones.
“Everybody, this is my sister Rian. Rian this is Kara, Lara, Tara, and Jade.” Huh. Not only are they all named alike, except for Jade, they all look alike. Same petite build with muscular legs. Same glossy straight hair. Same blank look in their eyes. I bet it’s the same look they have on their faces after running twenty-six-point-one miles—like they need carbs before they lose the will to live.
“Now that we’re all here…" Laney gives me a pointed look which I ignore. Seriously. More than eight hours-notice would have been nice. “It’s time to try on our dresses.”
Everyone except me claps with excitement, and once again, I’m struck by how Stepford this all feels.
As the weird outburst dies down, a sales associate begins guiding us to various dressing rooms to try on our dresses. Since we only had about six months to plan this wedding, Laney didn’t have time to schedule a day to look for dresses. Instead, she had us send over our measurements to the sales associate she is working with for them to order a dress none of us have even seen. Laney promised she was picking styles that are flattering to our body types, but I have a hard time believing it. There is no way what flatters me is going to flatter the Stepford runners.
“Hey, where’s Bendy?” Tara asks. Or maybe it’s Lara. Kara? I don’t know. Nor do I know who this Bendy person is.
Her thumbs flying as she sends a rapid text, Laney doesn’t look up when she answers. “She can’t make it. She got held up at work.”
I’m curious to understand why this Bendy person isn’t in trouble for not showing up when I got reamed for being two minutes late. “Who is Bendy?”
