Never Got Over You

by Whitney G.

  I held back a sigh and looked at my watch. “I’ll be back by three or four.”

  “So, this isn’t a half hour or so of stress relief.” She lifted her shades and looked into my eyes. “This sounds like a date. Who is it with?”

  “James.”

  “James of the Overly Estate, or James of the Madison Estate?”

  “No estate. It’s just James. James Garrett.”

  “Oh, well that’s slightly disappointing.” She let out a breath. “You know, Kate, at your age, I don’t really care who you date. But what I do care about is how you’re going to make this family look during high profile events, so you’ll need to stay in this evening and rehearse. Tell this James of ‘no estate’ that you’ll need to reschedule your little meet-up for some other time.”

  “I’ll be more than fine,” I said. “I’ve already rehearsed today.”

  “I know, I heard most of it.” She tilted her head to the side. “It wasn’t moving or awe inspiring in the slightest. For a moment, I thought it was Sarah Kay playing and not you.”

  I gritted my teeth.

  “I want to hear Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major by Bach, The Swan by Camille Saint-Saens, and The Cello Concerto in B Minor by Dvorak, reverberating through my hallways all night, and I want to feel moved by each and every string you play. Are we clear?”

  I stared at her, half tempted to say, “Screw you” and walk past her anyway. “I’ve been rehearsing all day,” I said, keeping my voice firm. “If what you heard wasn’t good enough for you, I’ll try it again tomorrow. After I take a break for the rest of the night.”

  “I’m sorry, did you not hear a word of what I just said?”

  “I heard you loud and clear.” I wasn’t backing down. “He’s on his way to meet me now, so I’m going to head down to the tower and call him.”

  “Fair enough. Can I borrow your phone for a second?” she asked.

  I handed it to her without thinking, and the moment it was in her grasp she tossed it over the balcony and into our estate fountain.

  What The. Fuck? My jaw dropped. Any words I wanted to say instantly locked in my throat, and I watched my iPhone slowly sink under the lily pads.

  “There,” she said. “Now you don’t need to call him, and you can focus on what really matters for the rest of the night. Whenever he shows up, I’ll have Bernie tell him that you underestimated how busy you are. I’ll also make sure to send him away with a nice piece of dessert for his ride away from this estate.”

  I felt my blood boiling, felt my fists clenching at my sides.

  “You’re not angry with me are you, Kate?” She grabbed one of my fists and slowly uncurled it, finger by finger. “Only one of us is depending on a thirteen-million-dollar inheritance when she turns twenty-one. The other one of us is holding all the cards and gets to determine whether or not it’ll be awarded by then.”

  I said nothing.

  “I’ll have one of the housekeepers fetch you a new phone tomorrow.” She smiled. “I’m looking forward to hearing some beautiful notes floating through my hallways within the next twenty minutes.” She walked away without another word, and it took everything in me not to rush behind her and tackle her to the ground. To not throttle her and scream about how much of a bitch she was.

  To hell with this...

  I rushed into the house, returning to our home auditorium and slammed all the doors shut. I opened a laptop and connected it to a speaker. Then I scrolled through YouTube videos in search of other cellists who were playing the songs she’d requested.

  If she wanted to hear some classical shit, I was going to make sure she got it. I turned the first video all the way up and locked the doors—forcing her to knock in case she got suspicious. I walked over to a panel where I hid my favorite novels, and slumped against the wall for a reread.

  Several chapters later, I heard a knock at the door.

  “One second!” I called out.

  I walked over to the laptop and waited until the cellist reached a half rest before hitting pause and stuffing it into a drawer. I scooted my chair across the wooden floor, made it screech for a few seconds, and then I opened the door.

  No one was there.

  I stepped out and looked down the hallway. Nothing.

  Confused, I shut the door, and then the knocking sound came once more. I turned around and realized it was coming from the outside. I walked over to the drapes and drew them open, seeing James standing on the balcony, white gift box in hand.

  Unlocking the glass doors, I pushed them open and stared at him—unsure of what to say.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been stood up and ignored before.” He smiled. “I can also promise you that I’ve never trespassed on an estate.”

  “My security guard didn’t tell you that I underestimated how busy I was?”

  “No. He told me that your mother was ‘acting like a bitch’ and he gave me twenty-five minutes to trespass behind his back or get the hell off the property.”

  I made a mental note to thank Bernie, and pulled James into the room. “I would’ve called you, but she um, took my phone.”

  “Are you sure you’re twenty years old?” He joked.

  “I’m only sixteen, actually,” I said. “I lied to you. I’m still a minor.”

  “Then this is officially the end of us.”

  We both laughed, and he pulled me into his arms—giving me a deep and dirty kiss that made me forget my every thought, my every worry.

  Steadying me, he slowly pulled away. He walked over to the black Steinway piano that stood on a platform at the center of the room.

  “You know how to play the piano?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I used to play it more than the cello, but...” My voice trailed off, the painful truth still lingered all these years later.

  “But what?”

  “Whenever I competed, I only placed second or third, so my mom took it a sign that I wasn’t meant to play it professionally.” I shrugged. “She cancelled all my lessons and told me to stop playing it so often, since second and third place don’t count.”

  “Hmmm.” He tapped one of the keys. “Can I hear you play?”

  “Right now?”

  He nodded.

  “Sure, just don’t expect perfection.” I took a seat on the bench and curved my hands above the keys. I played the start of Hungarian Dance No. 5 from memory, trying hard not to miss a note. As I was reaching the end of the first stanza, James took a seat next to me and began playing the complementing bass notes.

  He sped up the tempo, forcing me to follow his lead. His fingers moved against the keys with ease, his playing so far superior to mine, that I almost thought he was professional.

  We played the last stanza in perfect harmony, our fingers hitting the final key at the same time.

  “You’re better than a lot of the people I used to play with when I was younger.” He smiled. “I’m impressed.”

  “Me, too...” I crossed my arms. Why did you stop?”

  “Because winning first place every time gets boring.” He pulled the case over the keys. “Couldn’t afford to keep paying for it either.” He let out a breath. “You don’t have to stay in this estate,” he said. “You can leave and do whatever the hell you want with your life. You know that, right?”

  “Easier said than done.” I shook my head. “Nobody just walks away from this type of life. Most of my decisions were made for me long before I was out of the womb.”

  “Everyone is capable of making their own choices, Kate.” He tilted my chin up with his fingertips. “Everyone.”

  I wanted to tell him that I wished that was true, that I agreed, but I couldn’t. I was living proof that it wasn’t always the case.

  I glanced at his wrist and caught sight of a watch I’d seen some of the top men in Edgewood wear. It was a custom diamond and wood piece, its face was sapphire blue and the letters, S.G. H. were engraved in its face.

  “Did one of your clients gift you that watch?”
I stared at it. “It’s stunning.”

  “Something like that.” He unclasped it and slipped it into his pocket. “What do you really want to do with your life?”

  “Travel,” I said. “Travel and work for some huge company that’ll pay me to write up all the magazine ads and commercials for whatever product they’re trying to sell. And whenever I become the best there is, I want to do all the marketing work in my dream house, with its huge wraparound porch and white swing.”

  “How very specific.” He laughed. You want a real job with a boss?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. I was expecting you to say that you wanted to travel and live off your inheritance for the rest of your life. Wasn’t expecting you to want to work.”

  “Well, I do,” I said. “Then again, if I ever do get the chance to, I’m sure I’ll have to change my last name, so my mother won’t be embarrassed about her oldest daughter earning her own money.” I envisioned the ugly, disappointed look my mother would have if that happened—the number of “emergency stress massages” she would have to book, and laughed out loud.

  For some reason, I couldn’t stop laughing at the thought of her being miserable. I tried to cover my mouth, but I only laughed harder.

  When I was finally able to stop, my cheeks flushed red at the “You’re fucking crazy” look James was giving me.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time. I don’t usually do that.”

  “Don’t apologize,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I could listen to you laugh all day.”

  “Do you really mean that or are you just flattering me?”

  “I never say anything that I don’t mean...” He stood up from the bench. “Were you serious about needing some stress relief?”

  I nodded. “We have a full-service spa in the west wing if you need some, too. It’s staffed twenty-four hours a day for my mom.”

  He gave me a blank stare. Then he let out a low laugh. “Good to know. I was asking about stress relief for you, though.” He grabbed my hands, pulling me up and against his chest.

  Still laughing softly, he kissed my neck—setting every nerve in my body on fire. He slid his hands down my sides and lifted the hem of my sweater. Lifting it over my head, he tossed it onto the piano bench.

  Keeping his eyes on mine, he slid a hand behind my back and unclasped my bra with one smooth motion. Pushing it off my shoulders, he let the pink lace fall to the floor and pressed his mouth against my collarbone, then my chest. Groaning softly, he trailed his tongue between my breasts and sucked my nipple into his mouth.

  I moaned as he took his time with each one—cupping them with his hands and sucking them so hard and thoroughly that I nearly lost my balance. As his tongue continued to swirl against my skin, his hands skimmed down to my jeans to unfasten the button.

  Struggling to push the pants past my hips, he whispered, “I can’t give you what you need if you’re wearing these...”

  I nodded, prepared to step back and kick the jeans off, but he bent low and pushed them down to my ankles. Looking up at me, he silently commanded me to step out of them.

  I obliged and he kissed his way up my body, stalling when he reached my thighs. He pressed a kiss against my lower stomach, trailing his finger against the trim of my lace panties. Then, without warning, he yanked them off and let them fall on top of my bra.

  He stepped back and looked me over, his gaze heated and needy. He pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his rock-hard abs and a well-defined “V” that I craved to explore with my mouth.

  Before I could make my move, he stepped forward and kissed my mouth again, making me forget all of my thoughts at once.

  He suddenly grabbed me by the waist and lifted me off the floor—carrying me onto the platform and setting my bare ass on top of the piano.

  “Lay back,” he said, leaving a kiss on my right thigh.

  I hesitated and he raised his eyebrow. “Kate, lay back...” He pressed his hand against my chest and slowly pushed me back until my back touched the cold wood.

  Standing between my legs, he pushed them up until my knees were pointed toward the ceiling.

  Without another word, he buried his head against my pussy and kissed the lips as thoroughly and deeply as he kissed my mouth.

  He started sensuous and slow at first—gripping my thighs tightly so I couldn’t break his rhythm, but then his tongue began darting against my clit faster.

  A lot faster...

  I grabbed his head, used my fingers to pull at his hair—to make him slow down, but he was unfazed.

  “Ahh...Ahh...James...” I cried out.

  He ignored me, gently sucking my clit into his mouth—nearly pushing me over the edge. He let go of one of my thighs and caressed my nipple with his thumb, giving me two different types of pleasure at once.

  My moans filled the room, a loud contrast to his soft licking and sucking.

  “James...” I shut my eyes as my hips shook against the piano, as my pussy throbbed under the control of his greedy mouth. I grabbed at his hair a little harder, but it was no use.

  My entire body shook wildly, and I screamed his name as he brought me over the edge and into an orgasm.

  Panting, I shut my eyes and felt him finally letting go of my thighs. He caressed my legs and pressed kisses against my skin until I looked up at him again.

  I swallowed as he stared at me, turned on more than ever. No man had ever done that to me, and I had a feeling that I was going to remember that for the rest of my life.

  “Do you still feel stressed?” he asked, looking genuine.

  I shook my head. “Not at all.”

  “Hmmm.” He pressed a hand against my stomach and smirked. “I’m not convinced. I think you need a little more.”

  “One more time?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

  “No.” He pushed my legs up again. “I need to taste you at least three more times...”

  like we never were

  “DID YOU HEAR THAT MISS Kennedy let go of the lowest performers on her first day?” “I heard she pulled the hot cocoa campaign and pushed up the national cappuccino shoot.” “I’m pretty sure she’s done more here in three weeks than the last directors did in three years...”

  I tossed a tennis ball to Blue as the board members fawned over Kate via conference call. As much as I wanted to rain on their parade of praise, there was nothing I could say.

  For the first time in forever (Okay, never), the entire marketing team was beating me to work every day. Per Kate’s leadership, they were required to arrive at five o’clock in the morning, and in exchange they could leave work at one in the afternoon. They were two weeks ahead of schedule for our new luxury coffee menu, and to my surprise, I had no desire to fire any of them yet.

  Probably because she already did it.

  Even though her department was thriving, my work was suffering and she was the reason to blame. I wasn’t able to focus knowing that she was roaming my hallways, working with my staff. I couldn’t bear to look at her, but I also couldn’t resist looking at her.

  Every dress she wore was somehow sexier than the one before it, and I struggled to pay attention to the words that fell from her lips whenever we were in the same room.

  “Did you see that she just sent us a new email?” Carol giggled like a schoolgirl on the call. “Anyone care if I read it aloud?”

  I hit mute on their ongoing love-fest, and gently pulled the ball from Blue’s mouth. I tossed it again and waited for him to return.

  “What do you think?” I asked. “Do you think Kate and I can be cordial and just forget everything that happened between us before?”

  He didn’t answer. He just returned the ball.

  “Do you think I should fire her?”

  He barked five times.

  Five times is always a ‘no’.

  Knock. Knock. KNOCK! A sudden knock was at my door, but before I could answer it, Kate stepped i
nside wearing a violet dress and stunning silver heels. The dress hugged her curves in all the right places, and I felt my cock stiffen in my pants.

  “Can I have a few minutes of your time, Mr. Holmes?”

  “You’ve already walked into my office,” I said. “I guess so.”

  She walked closer, stopping when Blue moved in front of her.

  I waited for him to bark in defense, like he did whenever I didn’t personally invite someone into my office, but he simply licked her hand.

  What the hell?

  She patted his head before narrowing her eyes at me. “I think I need to report an employee for harassment.”

  “Oh?” I raised my eyebrow. “I’ve heard nothing but praise for you, Miss Kennedy. I can’t imagine who would risk getting fired by making you want to quit.”

  “I never said I wanted to quit.” She crossed her arms. “But the person in question seems to be hell-bent on making me turn in a resignation letter.”

  “Would you like me to file a police report?”

  “I would like you to stop.”

  “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say those words to me.,” I said. “I prefer when I’m allowed to keep going.”

  “Stop sending me these indirect threats, Mr. Holmes.” She glared at me. “I just want to do my job, be the professional that you clearly are not, and enjoy my career as a marketing director.”

  “With all due respect, Miss Kennedy, I think you’re falsely accusing me. I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “You didn’t just send me this email?” She slammed a copy of it onto my desk, and I opened my drawer—putting on my reading glasses.

  SUBJECT: 4, 2, & 7...

  Dear Miss “Kennedy,”

  I noticed that you came into work at four in the morning, a full hour before your team. You looked very unhappy, and I know for a fact that there is someone else who you make unhappy with your presence, so I’ve taken the liberty of including two versions of a resignation letter. (One is short and direct. The other is a bit more personal and makes it clear that you were never going to stay true to your promise anyway, but that’s beside the point.)