by R. J. Lewis
I’m heartbroken.
I’m in pain.
I don’t even get a chance to calm myself down when the door opens, and he walks in. I’m so not ready. There’s suddenly not enough air in the room. I look down, feeling a mixture of fear and betrayal. I take a few quick breaths, telling myself to calm down.
We look at each other.
His eyes are hard, mine are wide.
He looks calm and I’m trembling like a leaf.
How could you let her into your bed? I don’t say that, though. I just stare at him, that feeling of pain growing.
“You care to tell me what that was about?” he asks me, pausing at the door to look at me.
Shit.
I take a deep breath. “She’s using you—”
“Why is it your concern what happens to Nina?” he cuts in.
“Like I said, it’s part of my job to make sure you’re not wasting your time—”
“No,” he cuts in again. “No, Miss Montcalm, that excuse won’t work.”
I stand taller, clasping my hands tightly, quickly adding, “Steven is very protective of you.”
Now he goes still. “Steven put you up to this?”
I nod. Sorry Steven. “Yeah.”
It’s a pretty crappy excuse, but it might do, so long as I keep my shit together.
He studies me, waiting for me to give something away, and all I can do in that moment is think of his lips on that bitch’s mouth, of his dick inside another woman, and my heart is sinking slowly. I’m looking back at him like he’s a stranger. I’m hollow inside. This isn’t what I signed up for. Seeing him with another woman was never on the agenda. I would not have come here had I known.
“I don’t need Steven’s meddling hand,” he then says, frowning. “I had her dealt with.”
“Dealt with?”
“She was already going,” he says icily. “I’m not a fool, Miss Montcalm. I know when I’m being used, when I’m being lied to.” He says the last bit pointedly, eyeing me with that cool expression.
I’m speechless.
Fuck.
Perhaps that was impulsive of me, but how could I have known?
I clear my throat. “Well, that’s good for you, Mr West.”
“You would have quit had she stayed.”
“Call me passionate.” I keep my face even. “I’ll pass along that message to Steven.”
“Better yet, I will.”
What?
He walks past me and rounds the desk. He picks up the phone and my heart dips in my chest as panic settles in. He’s calling Steven on speaker, like he needs to air out my shitty excuse. No, no, no. I want to hide. Instead, I stay rooted, even lifting my chin with false confidence, like, yeah sure, call Steven.
The phone rings, and I pray that Steven is too busy to answer. What time is it over there anyway?
“Hello,” he answers on the third ring and my heart halts. I should have known these mutant businessmen always pick up a phone call.
“Steven,” Aidan greets coldly.
“Aidan.”
“I’m calling to confirm you were sending a message to me through my personal assistant. Is that correct?”
Steven is silent for a moment. Then, “Uh, I will confirm that.”
He doesn’t even sound believable. Come on, Steven, you gotta try a little harder than that.
Aidan glances at me. “What was the message exactly, Steven?”
I stare back, holding my breath.
Steven clears his throat, stalling. “I believe it was to do with keeping you away from useless distractions.”
“Any particular ones?”
“Well…all of them, Aidan, you have to be specific.”
“Like Nina,” I blurt out, shrugging at Aidan now as he glowers at me. “There were many you warned me about, but…you know, the one we’re talking about now is Nina.”
“Nina?” Steven sounds incredulous, and then another moment of silence stretches before he adds, “Ah, yes, Nina. Yes, yes, Nina. She’s one to watch out for, Aidan.”
Fuck my life.
Aidan shuts his eyes, shaking his head as he lets out a slow breath. “This is fucking ridiculous.”
“She is a very bad distraction—”
Aidan presses a button, hanging up before placing his hands down on the desk, staring me down with that intimidating glare. “You must think I’m a fucking idiot, Miss Montcalm—”
“Okay, so, you know, I didn’t live under a boulder,” I interrupt, shrugging. “Your relationship to that insect bitch was all over those shitty rags, Mr West. You’d have to be blind, deaf and living on Mars to escape what she did—”
“I don’t give a fuck what they have to say—”
“They’re very informative—”
“They’re filled with lies, Miss Montcalm, hence my aversion to them.”
I don’t respond. I’m biting my tongue like a motherfucker right now because I want to tell him she used the shit out of him.
Ah, fuck it.
“She stole from you,” I tell him because fuck this mission. “She went into your safe, Mr West, and stole from you, alright? Now that bit of news was not in those rags.”
“Let me guess, Steven told you this?”
“Steven said many things.”
“Shall I call him up again?”
My heart jumps as I shrug coolly, waving a hand. “I have many sources.”
“Was one of them me?”
I freeze for a solid second, trying my hardest not to appear shocked. Aidan is catching on, and who wouldn’t?
Time to play the denial card.
“Absolutely not,” I force out.
He stares at me, his eyes searching mine. I don’t look away even though every part of me wants to. I stay rooted in my spot, eyes on his, and I try not to shit bricks because, goddamn, Aidan West really is menacing when he doesn’t love you.
The silence stretches, and I have nothing to say that’ll stomp out this awkwardness, so I choose to keep my lips sealed.
A knock sounds on the door and Tilda sweeps into the room carrying a tray of fruit. “Good morning, Mr West!” she greets, smiling brightly at us.
Aidan makes no response as she places the tray on the desk and looks between us. Woman has the most incredible poker face because her eyes are moving back and forth—she’s trying to figure shit out—but she looks totally at ease.
“If you need anything…” Her words die off and her smile turns awkward.
“Thank you, Tilda,” Aidan says stiffly.
“Of course.” She leaves the room quickly, and the door clicks behind her.
More silence.
He tosses a grape into his mouth and munches it slowly. I stare at his mouth, at his incredible lips, his strong jaw and I swallow hard as heat builds in my core.
What a beautiful man.
Shoulders relaxing, he finally takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then he says, “Did Steven direct you on what to do next? Because aside from getting me up and interfering with my personal life, you’re already proving to be useless.”
And just like that, my core gets hit with an arctic blast.
My face heats up. I feel wounded because… useless?!
“Useless is having an assistant and not putting her to work,” I grind out, unable to stop myself.
He smiles slowly; that smile is cold. “Oh, Miss Montcalm, that mouth is going to land you in all kinds of trouble, isn’t it?”
I don’t back down. “Have I spoken an untruth, Mr West?”
His expression is as hard as my heart suddenly feels. He narrows his eyes at me. “Very well, Miss Montcalm.”
Then he’s moving across the room. “Follow me.”
He leads me out of the room and back down the flight of stairs. We pass a giant living room and walk down a wide hallway. There’s a door open at the end. I enter after him, pausing in my step, mouth dropping open. It’s like I’ve walked straight into an 18th century library with the d
eep brown wood, red rugs and sliding step ladders. It’s huge with rows and rows of books. Aidan doesn’t stop to let me soak it all in. He wades further into the room, never glancing once to make sure I’m following. On the other end of the room is another door. He walks in and this time he stands by the door, waiting for me.
I step inside, gaping. It’s a small office. Closed in. No windows. It looks horribly medieval.
He finally glances at me with the most sinister expression. “What’s your background?” he asks, and it doesn’t sound like he cares to know the answer.
“I have—”
“I assume you know everything to do with business administration and data analysis.”
“I’m supposed to—”
“You can sort out these papers. I expect them to be done by 5 today. If you complete that, I’ll take your usefulness into consideration. If you don’t, you can take the next flight home.”
My head swivels in the direction of the desk. There’s a giant pile of paperwork scattered around. It’s a mess. I go to it, feeling his eyes on me as I pick up the paper on the top.
“What are they?” I ask.
“Business proposals,” he simply answers.
I look over more papers. I see business names and reports. “You need me to sort them out.”
“I said that already.”
I clench my teeth. “I meant sort them out how?”
He sighs, irritated. “If they’re business proposals, what do you think I would want to know about them?”
I look at him. He’s not even staring at me, I’m such an irritation. “If they’re worthwhile.”
Now his eyes swing to mine. “Well done. There’s a light bulb in there after all.”
Before I can respond, he departs with, “Good luck, Miss Montcalm. I have a feeling you’ll need it.”
Then he shuts the door behind him, leaving me completely alone.
*
Smug jerk version of Aidan wants me to look over every proposal. There must be over a dozen here on the desk, fleshed out in long reports with dollar signs, asset breakdowns and all kinds of mumbo jumbo I don’t understand. There are at least a hundred pages here, aaaaand I’m fucked.
For crying out loud, I cut hair. I did not get as far as taking business in school. No, I cut school short so I could come out here and get told I’m a trailer trash homeless woman that wants to sell something to that satanic woman. I relive her boobs pressed against Aidan’s chest this morning and hold in my pain.
I can’t…I can’t think of such things. I’m on the brink of falling into a hole I won’t be able to climb out of. I need this distraction.
I pull out my phone—there better be reception from here—and call Steven.
“What the hell happened this morning?” he asks me first thing.
“I’m not ready to answer that,” I respond quietly, fighting to hold myself together. “I need your help.”
“Okay.”
“I’m looking at papers right now and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, Steven. If I don’t sort this bullshit out, he’s sending me home. This is a disaster.”
“Okay, okay,” he responds calmly. “Take pictures of them all and send them to me. I’ll let you know if they’re worth looking into.”
Just before I hang up, he adds, “Calm down, Ivy, okay?”
“This is me calm, Steven,” I say slowly, voice tight.
He sounds sad. “I understand.”
“You never told me about Nina being here.”
“I didn’t know she was.”
That’s hard to believe, but I don’t question Steven. He’s never lied to me, and I don’t see any motive for him to. I blink back my emotion, determined to keep it all at bay. “Yeah, well, anyway, she’s been taken care of.”
“As she should be.”
“Do you think he reached out to her?” I can’t help but ask.
“No, no way.” Steven is adamant.
“You should have told him she was toxic to him, that he cut her out.”
“He axed her out completely a long time ago,” Steven replies. “I didn’t think she’d come back into the picture, Ivy. I overlooked her, I’m sorry. She must have heard what happened through someone from his inner circle. His accident leaked a short while ago, which is why I hurried to you and asked you to do this.”
“They’re fucking, Steven.” My voice cracks. “You don’t know what this has been like.”
“I’m sorry, Ivy. I can’t imagine, but…I’m struggling to believe he’s been intimate with her.”
“I saw it.”
“It’s just…” He sighs. “Recently, Aidan was very clear to me about the way his body was after the crash. He’s not…He’s not been feeling very strongly like that.”
I doubt that. Aidan is the most sexual man I have ever met, but…I want to take that into consideration despite what I walked in on, as ludicrous as that sounds, and it is. It’s so fucking preposterous, my inner self cringes at my desperate attempt at hope.
He was almost naked. She was bare chested. They were in bed together. And I’m trying to believe nothing happened? I’m so stupid.
“I’ll let you go. I need to get this done,” I say steadily before getting off the phone. Then I take a few deep breaths to clear that frog in my throat. I wind up pacing the tiny room, feeling like there’s not enough air in here.
I open the door next and step into the library. I have so many sick emotions, I need to move around, try to rebuild my strength again. I wind up going up and down the aisles, tracing the spines of books, reading each title like they’re windows into Aidan’s soul.
This man just does not like fiction.
It’s all economy and history and yada-fucking-yada.
I do find a small shelf dedicated to classic literature, though. So…that’s promising.
As I pull out a book to skim, I hear a faint sound from another aisle. I freeze in place, hoping it’s not Aidan returning because, fuck, I’m a mess right now and I don’t want to cop anymore abuse.
More light movements.
And then a long sigh.
Whoever is here doesn’t stick around long. I hear a book slide out and then footsteps moving to the door. I shuffle down the aisle and stick my head out quick enough to catch a man’s figure leaving. I don’t see his face, but I do see his bare back and briefs—yes, the dude is in only his briefs and he isn’t Aidan, but goddamn, he is jacked like Aidan.
What in the fuck?
Maybe someone stayed the night after the party, which is sort of hard to believe because if one person got to stay, more would have followed suit.
Dude has a solid ass, I note to myself, and then I nod. Was that enough of a distraction for you, Ivy? I nod again. Yes, yes, it was.
Suddenly, the man stops and whips back around, and I gasp when I catch his face.
The arrogant dude from last night.
I quickly shuffle down the aisle, heart beating in my ears as I hear his footsteps return to the aisle he pulled the book out of.
Complete silence follows, and I stand there, nervous and tracing my shaky finger down the spine of these ancient books in front of me. I can’t make a sound now and signal my presence. It just wouldn’t be okay after being quiet for so long.
Standing still—this is just how it has to be.
“Who are you hiding from, Turbo?”
I jolt as he suddenly appears at my aisle, that dazzling smile in place. My heart is jack hammering in my chest as I turn to him, face red, and shake my head. “Not hiding,” I reply quickly.
He relaxes the side of his body against the shelves, crossing his arms across his chest. My eyes immediately flicker at the movement, taking in all that bare skin. I swallow hard because this man’s body is incredible, and all of this is so unexpected.
“So, you usually scuttle around like a mouse in a library you’ve never been in before?” he prods.
“I am not scuttling,” I deny. “I thought you were someone els
e.”
“Who?”
“Just…someone else.”
“You mean Aidan?”
I blink slowly, refusing to answer that. “Anyhow…”
“Even if I were him, you shouldn’t scuttle.”
Jesus Christ. “Yeah, well, you shouldn’t make someone want to scuttle.”
His brows shoot up. “I’m responsible for your scuttling?”
“You are.”
“How?”
“You’re walking around a library in your underwear,” I explain, sounding unimpressed.
“Is my undress making you uncomfortable?”
“In a library setting, it did.”
“Oh, so you’re no longer uncomfortable?”
“No, the feeling has passed. It was just unexpected, but you know, carry on in your undress. I don’t care.” I wave a hand, trying to express with that light movement how little I care, even though my eyes betray me, and I keep glancing at his body. I can’t help it, though, I just…there’s something very alluring about this man, and I’m starting to understand the reason the more I look at him.
He remains in place, tilting his head as he studies me, that cocky smile spreading. “I will carry on in my undress, and you know something, Turbo? You should, too. What better way to indulge in life than combining two of the greatest things it has to offer? Books and…you already know the second.”
I raise a brow. “Nudity?”
“I was going to say comfort clothes, but”—his smirk grows— “nudity definitely works.”
I fight the heat in my cheeks. “You weren’t going to say comfort clothes. Liar. You made me walk right into that—”
My words die as he slides down the shelf and toward me, closing the gap between us. I eye the movement closely, refusing to budge an inch because I have a feeling he wants me to scuttle away. I see it in his eyes—the surprise I haven’t— and then satisfaction as he stops next to me, his body hardly an arm’s length away.
I feel his warmth from here. I pretend not to care about his company as I redirect my gaze to the shelf, reading the titles with a little too much forced concentration than what would be natural.
“You’re going to stare holes in those books,” he says. “I may need to rescue them from your penetrative stare.”
I ignore him.
“You know, there aren’t that many titles, either. I think you’ve read them all already.”