What the hell is that supposed to mean?
“What do you mean by that?” I ask warily. “I know exactly what we’re doing. And I know where it’s headed. Or in your case, not headed.”
Logan looks at me, and I see pain in his eyes. “I understand,” he says finally in a grave voice.
It shatters my heart that he can’t give an inch. Especially when I just opened up to him like that.
He takes my hand and pulls me close, and I’m enveloped by the heat of his hot body. I don’t want to move away. I want the comfort. I need it.
“You just need to relax, and live in the moment. I want you. I don’t want you to leave. Not yet.” The pained look in his eyes is replaced by a desire that’s hard to resist.
“But what-” I begin to protest, but he kisses me on the lips to smother it.
“Just give in, Rose,” he whispers, slowly bringing his lips down to my neck and nibbling softly.
Every cell in my body is telling me to push him off me and demand that he tell me why he’d rather pretend this situation is going to get any better, but I’m overcome by his advance. I tilt my head back and my lips part into a soft groan as his hands move up my thigh.
“We don’t need tomorrow,” he murmurs, delivering another scorching hot kiss to my neck while undoing my skirt, “just tonight.”
Chapter 24
Logan
I take another look at my phone as the driver pulls up to Charlotte’s new place, the temporary housing I arranged for her. It’s been nearly two weeks. And more than half the time, she’s stayed at my place. She’s staying here tonight. Her decision, not mine. I’m glad she’s the one who brought it up. She can’t come back with me tonight, but luckily I didn’t have to tell her.
She’s typing away on her laptop as we drive to her place. Busy with her new ventures in the marketing research department. She’s doing well. I glance up at her as the faint sound of her tapping on the keys stops. She leans back and reads whatever it is she wrote out, or maybe something else, I’m not sure.
She looks so beautiful though. Her hair is down from the ponytail it was in and it flows in soft curls over her shoulder. There’s still a faint blush to her cheeks from our earlier adventure in the office. She’s becoming a bad habit of mine. Although Trent seems to think I’m more amicable now that something’s changed. He obviously knows judging by the way he smiles when she knocks on my door.
I look back at my phone. There are other people who know, too.
I should tell her about the photo and the message. There’s nothing in the photo that’s scandalous, nothing that’s harmful. Just a picture of the two of us leaving Parker-Moore. She’s walking beside me as we approach the limo out front. Anger rises within me. I don’t like her being watched. I don’t like her having a target on her back.
She deserves to know. But I don’t want to give her a reason to stay away. She’s right to be cautious. But not for this reason. Not for some asshole who thinks I’m screwing the secretary. She’s not a secretary and her position here has nothing to do with this.
It’s an innocent enough photo, but the message is what pisses me off. And the fact that someone thinks they can fuck with me. I just don’t know who. I will though. Maybe then I’ll tell her.
She seems to only just now notice that the limo has stopped. She shuts her laptop and slips it into her bag, unbuckling her seat belt and getting ready to leave me.
As she double checks that she has everything, including a dry cleaning bag of three of her outfits she’s left at my place, she gives me a small smile and grips everything in her hands.
“I’ll go with you,” I offer.
“No, don’t,” she says stubbornly, “I’ve got this.” She leans forward and plants a kiss on my lips and pulls back slowly. At the same time my phone beeps and vibrates in my hand with a text.
It catches me off guard. Maybe it’s my nerves. She seems to realize I’m off a little, but before she can think on it, I pull her closer to me, one hand on her lower back, the other on the back of her head and slip my tongue along the seam of her lips until she parts for me. The dry cleaner bags ruffle as she drops them to run her hand through my hair. Andrew starts to roll up the partition and I let out a small chuckle.
Charlotte backs away and leans down to grab her bags.
“I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.” She nods and slips out of the limo. It’s not until she’s in her building that I tell Andrew to head home.
“Thank you for that, Andrew.” His eyes catch mine in the rearview mirror and he smiles.
“No problem, sir.”
My home is only fifteen minutes away and I spend the time looking out of the window and watching the people walking along the busy streets of downtown. Couples holding hands and laughing, a few men and women in power suits and brightly colored pencil skirts talking on their cell phones and walking at a quick pace and brushing past the slower walkers.
The world keeps moving. No matter what happens, it’s merely small ripples for the most part.
I don’t even realize we've traveled up the hillside to my house on the cliff of the city, until Andrew clears his throat.
“We’re here, sir,” he says, looking back at me in the mirror.
“Thank you, Andrew.” I quickly grab my briefcase and make my way inside. Before I push the large maple door open, I turn to my right and see the doctor’s car parked in the circle driveway.
My heart sinks. I have these visits. I grit my teeth and try to forget everything else. This must be done.
Marilyn greets me at the entrance. The front entrance has a fresh citrus scent and there are fresh flowers in the vase on the entryway table. Signs of her work.
“Hello and goodbye, Mr. Parker,” she says with a small smile.
“Good night, Mrs. Doubet.” I leave the door open for her.
She says in a quieter voice, “The doctor is in the great room, waiting for you.”
I give her a tight smile and nod. I answer, “Thank you.”
She doesn’t respond, instead she ducks out and leaves to go back to her family or maybe somewhere else. I watch her leave and then close the door behind her, leaving my briefcase on the table.
I take off my suit jacket and unbutton my shirt as I walk straight to the great room.
It’s my favorite room in this house. It’s why I bought it. The back wall is lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The dark wood shelves and chair legs are freshly polished, shining from across the room and the faint of smell of citrus fills my lungs. There are two large tufted sofas and a grand fireplace made of slate. The thick red curtains covering the large windowpanes are always drawn back, giving the room a more open feel.
I haven’t lit the fireplace in God knows how long. As I walk across the room to the leather chair that the doctor’s pulled out for me, I realize I haven’t been in here since the last time he came for a visit. Two months.
It’s my favorite room, but on these days I hate this fucking room.
“Doctor Wallace,” I greet as he hears me walk into the room and turns to face me. He’s an old man with a slight hunch to his back and thick glasses that cover his pale blue eyes. He doesn’t look quite like a doctor in slacks and a red polo that looks like it should be worn by a younger man.
I take the seat and slip my shirt off, tossing it onto a nearby end table.
He gives me a small smile and nods. I’m not one for small talk. He’s used to getting this over with quickly.
“Anything new since we last met?” he asks me as he puts the stethoscope to my back and then tells me to take in a deep breath.
“No changes.” I say the words, but internally I feel like a liar. She’s new. My Rose.
My fingers touch my lips and I remember the faint sounds of her moaning in my mouth.
It would be nice to have her home with me. But not tonight. She can’t be here for my appointments.
At the thought I take my phone out of my pocket, remembering the beep fr
om the text earlier. It’s Trent. Doctor Wallace pulls away, giving me space to look at it.
My heart stills as I read through the message.
That fucking bastard. I stand instantly with barely contained rage.
Chadwick Patterson. That fucking prick. Trent traced the message, or had someone else do it for all I know. But he’s certain the message is from him.
He’s going to fucking regret it.
I think for a moment about how I can get back at him. This isn’t the first time that he’s tried to fuck with me. He’s pissed the division of Parker-Moore went to us. The Parkers. He was an heir to it in his head. As Moore’s bastard. But when that old man died, it was all left to my father. The business anyway. Patterson was given a chunk of inheritance, but not a damn bit of the business. So he quit. Made a fucking scene on his way out, too. He wasn’t happy with a job, he just wanted a stake in the business. He’s a fool and I’ve never paid much attention to his antics. But it’s one thing to fuck with me, and it’s another thing entirely to bring my Rose into this.
“Mr. Parker?” Doctor Wallace asks as I pace in front of the open windows.
I shake my head. “I need a moment.”
I see him take a seat from the corner of my eye. I pay him well. Damn good money. He can wait a moment longer.
He needs to have some sort of consequence happen to make it damn clear that he needs to back off. I’ll look over his businesses. I know there’s going to be a soft spot somewhere. I need to find it. I need to find a way to hit him where it hurts. As I scroll through the businesses listed on his company directory on my phone, I try to remember the conference and which talks he attended, who he was trying to negotiate with.
A smile creeps to my lips. I know he settled on a new business with Arrivol. Their manufacturing plant is in horrible condition and he placed a bid on the old Chrysler plant. I put two and two together and know exactly how to fuck him over. Worth a few billion at least.
I dial up Trent, knowing exactly what to do.
“You got my message,” he answers on the second ring.
“I did. And I want to fuck that bastard over where it hurts.”
“Calm down, Log-”
I cut him off, I don’t need to calm down. “I want the plant on Levington.” I stop walking and stand in front of the far window. It overlooks protected woods that are a part of the city park. It’s peaceful, elegant even. It’s everything I’m not.
“We can use that in the-”
“I don’t care what we use it for. Patterson needs it.”
“I’m sure it’s a silent bid,” Trent says after a long moment.
“I don’t care how much it’s going to cost to win that bid. If you have to overspend, do it.”
“By how much?” he asks.
I snort into the phone. “I don’t give a fuck if you spend another four million on the property. Patterson needs it or he’s fucked, so fuck him. Make sure he doesn’t get it. Is that clear?”
“Understood,” Trent starts to say something else, but I’m done talking. My blood is pumping with adrenaline and I can feel anger boiling beneath the surface.
I hang up the phone breathing heavily and squeezing the phone with rage.
“Mr. Parker,” Doctor Wallace says, snapping me back to the present.
I clear my throat and nod, setting the phone down and walking back over to the chair in the middle of the room.
“You should take it easy; stress isn’t-”
“I’m fine.” I cut him off and try to calm my racing heart.
“You’re not fine,” he says, walking over to the large bag he placed on the table. He looks back at me through his spectacles. “You need to keep that in mind, Mr. Parker.”
I take in a slow breath and nod.
For nearly three years it’s been on my mind every minute that I’m not working. I’ve never been able to ignore it. My heartbeat slows and I retake my seat.
Until her.
My Rose. Such a beautiful distraction.
Chapter 25
Charlotte
I stride confidently down the hall to Logan’s office, my heels clicking against the gleaming hardwood floors. I’m dressed in a white blouse and a tight black skirt that shows off my curves; I want to look good for my boss. For the past few weeks, this has become a regular thing for me, and I no longer feel anxious about meeting Logan without an appointment.
I look forward to it even though I still question our relationship. I know it’s stupid, falling for a man that doesn’t want to commit, but I can’t help myself. He makes me feel good. Valued. Even when I do get pissed off with him being evasive about us being together, he’s always able to deflect my ire with passionate kisses and a good hard fuck.
If I was smart, I’d leave him. But it’s too late. I’m addicted to him, mind, body and soul. And worst yet, I think I’m falling for him. Hard.
As I pass his receptionist’s desk, I nod at his secretary, Eleanor. She’s an old lady, probably in her mid-seventies with stark white hair that she always wears in a severe bun. She returns an imperceptible nod. She’s so used to seeing me show up unannounced that she doesn’t even bother greeting me anymore.
I’m sure she’s wondering what’s going on between me and Logan, and why I have special access to him, but most of the time, I don’t give a fuck. Logan is a man that gets what he wants, and he wants me. Still, I’m uneasy about being so bold about our relationship, even if it’s only his secretary who suspects something is going on. It’s only a matter of time before the whole building knows, and I’m not sure how they’re going to react when they find out.
When I get to the oakwood double doors of Logan’s office, I pause, my heart racing.
Why do I keep doing this? I know this isn’t going to end well. He’s all but admitted he wants to continue to take this one step at a time and won’t guarantee I won’t end up with a broken heart.
It’s a pointless question, because I can’t help myself. I have to see Logan. He’s become a necessity, like food or water. And there are no guarantees in life.
He’s told me not to knock, but I don’t like just busting in on him at a moment’s notice. I think a little heads-up is the polite thing to do. Taking a deep breath, I gently rap on the doors.
“Come in,” I hear Logan’s muffled command.
I open the doors and walk in, but nearly trip before I do, closing them behind me. Logan’s on the phone, but goddamn he looks sexy as fuck. My heart beats faster and I unconsciously lick my lips. He’s sitting in his tufted leather office chair, wearing a black dress shirt, his red tie loosened at the collar, his shirt open at the chest. His hair, which is usually gelled and slicked, is kind of messy, like he just woke up.
My core heats with desire at the sight of him.
He looks up at me as soon as I enter. “Hold, please” he tells whoever it is on the other end of the line. He drops the phone to the desk without waiting for a response presses the hold button.
He always makes them wait... just for me.
This is why I can’t leave him, I tell myself. He makes me feel more important than any man I’ve ever been with.
“Rose,” he says, standing from his desk and stalking toward me as I make my way to him. His eyes are narrowed and heated, staring at me as though I’m his prey. But I walk straight to him, and let him devour me.
He’s quick to wrap his arms around my waist, pulling me toward him and making my back arch as he kisses me with a heated passion I can’t deny.
I lose myself in his embrace as our tongues intertwine, massaging against each other with intense need. I fall back against his desk, my skirt rising up my thighs. Fuck. He can take me right here. Right fucking now.
Before I can shove his shirt off of him and reach for the buckle of his belt like I so desperately want to, Logan pulls away from me and I gasp, my chest heaving. Slightly embarrassed, I straighten up and pull my skirt back down, my thighs trembling.
“We can’t,” Loga
n says quietly, smoothing his slacks. I can see his large hand pressing against his dick and readjusting it, and my mouth waters at the sight. “And I think I’m going to have the worst fucking case of blue balls when the day hasn’t even started yet.”
“Sorry,” I say breathlessly, straightening my outfit.
“I’m good,” Logan says. His voice lacks his usual fervor. “I’ll make sure you make it better later.”
The way he looks at me tugs at my heartstrings, and for a moment, I want to bring up our situation again, tell him how much my feelings have grown even after several weeks. But I realize this is not the time, nor the place. It can wait till later.
“Can we do lunch?” I ask instead. I’ve been having a hell of a time being wined and dined at all the expensive restaurants on Logan’s dime. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to go through a drive-thru. “Maybe fast food for once?”
Spearing his fingers through his messy hair, Logan takes a moment in responding and I feel a twinge of concern. “I have to take a raincheck,” he says. His eyes have a worried look in them and he glances at the phone, something he never does. Usually he’ll leave them on hold so long they hang up.
“Of course,” I say, doing my best to hide my disappointment. I feel slighted, but I shouldn’t. Logan has literally made time for me at all hours of the day. I can’t expect him to keep doing this forever. It would be selfish of me.
Still, I can’t help but wonder, Is he getting tired of me? Is this the reason why he didn’t want to commit, because he knew that this day would come? I clear my throat and try to ignore my quickened pulse and the feeling of dread washing over me.
It makes sense. Now that Logan’s had his fill, maybe he was ready to move on. The idea frightens me more than I’d like to admit.
Logan dampens my worry with a soft kiss on the lips, but his demeanor remains solemn, almost sullen. “Thank you. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
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