by Maya Hughes
I’d been programmed to be hurt. People don’t last and he’s so far out of my league it’s not even comprehensible. And if I wanted to do this job right, I shouldn’t start it out by sleeping with my boss. But the temptation was real and raw, pounding in my chest like a signal drum of impending war. A war of the wills and I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to win.
I watched him in the reflection in the glass, the city lights surrounding him making him seem even more like a mirage. He moved efficiently around the kitchen, opening, closing cabinets and drawers. He knew where everything was. I imagined he’d have a staff for something like this, but other than the guy who drove us to the building I hadn’t seen anyone else in the apartment. Every so often he caught my eyes in the reflection and held me pinned there in his skin tingling gaze until he decided to break the connection. His choice every time. Each time, I had to remember to breathe again. Remember my name. His gaze lingered and it was like a fiery embrace wrapped around me, my skin singed by his vision.
“Wine?” he asked, holding out a glass of white wine. He hadn’t even asked what I liked. How did he know I hate red? My hand wrapped around the cool, smooth glass, momentarily brushing against his, and that energy that pulsed between us remained unsaid, but I knew he felt it. I turned and mumbled a thank you. Keep it together, Mel. Keep it together.
“What do you think?” He walked over to the couches and sat. He stretched his arm out over the back. He was sin, wrapped in a mixture of masculinity and refinement. How many other women found themselves treading water in the wake of his power?
“This place is amazing,” I said, taking a gulp of my wine and sitting in a chair across from him. My leg bounced up and down, and some of the wine sloshed onto my hand.
“It serves its purpose. And about the job? You start tonight.” His eyes were trained on me as he tipped the crystal tumbler back, drinking down the dark amber liquid inside.
“I…I still think you’re making a mistake. I don’t think I’m going to be able to give Esme what she needs,” I said, apparently trying to talk myself into homelessness. The urge to say yes sat on the tip of my tongue, but every time I looked at him and forgot my name, forgot to breathe, and forgot how to talk I knew this would send me down a path from I might never recover from. A path where the world was spread out for me on a platter and then snatched away. I knew where I’d end up. More bruised, battered and even more shattered than when I started.
“Esme has the best teachers, tutors, and other specialists she could ever need. What she doesn’t have is someone she feels comfortable enough to talk to and be as free with as I’ve seen her with you. For now, that’s all she needs,” he said, leaning forward.
“There are some things in my past.” I took a sip of wine.
“I know. I’ve already read your file. There’s nothing in there that concerns me.”
“But—” I tried to decide how I felt about that. He’d already had me researched, dissected, analyzed. It made sense. A man like him didn’t make an offer like his to come live in his house without vetting someone first. I wondered how deep that research went. Does he know everything about my past?
“There is nothing in there that concerns me, Melanie. Don’t worry so much. And I took the liberty of calling the diner. You won’t be going back there.” He took another drink like he hadn’t just quit the steadiest thing I had in my life.
“What the hell? I didn’t say I’d take the job. I didn’t say I wanted to quit the diner.” I jumped up. It wasn’t his place to interfere in my life like that.
“You didn’t have to. It’s not like you’ll have the time, if you’re going to be with Esme.”
I took a deep breath. It was a shitty job, but it was still the only job I had. I rubbed my hand against my temple. This was insane. He was insane. Swirling his drink around his glass like he didn’t have a care in the world, and he didn’t, did he? He had the power and I was fucked and not even in the way I’d like. What choice do I have now? I didn’t have a place to live, a job, or any money.
For now. This was a for now situation. I could handle him—for now. Keep him at bay—for now. At least knowing I was on shifting ground would make it easier to prepare for that happened when everything fell out from under me. Maybe I’d be able to grab onto the ledge when the time came and save myself. I cleared my throat. Better get down to business if I was walking into this ring of fire.
“How much does this job pay?” I plopped down in my seat, resting my elbows on my knees. I took a sip of my wine to distract myself from my shaky hands. Rhys stared at me for a few seconds, an assessing look that made my stomach clench. He grabbed a piece of paper and pen, his hand flying across the paper.
He got up and stood in front of me, my eyes level with his shining belt buckle. He held out the piece of paper between two of his fingers. He flicked them up and down, waiting for me to take the paper, and I imagined those two fingers inside of me doing the same exact thing. My pussy throbbed as I glanced up at him and took the paper from his hand, careful not to touch him. I unfolded the piece of paper and choked on the sip of wine I had in my mouth. The wine burned on its way down the wrong pipe as I hacked and coughed. He took the glass of wine from my hand and gently patted me on the back.
“Per month?” I wheezed as he thumped my back.
“Per week,” he responded, chuckling.
I’m sure I looked like I was having a fit. He handed my glass back and I chugged the contents. This could change my life. If I only stayed for a few months I could finally catch the break I’d always needed to do things with my life. Maybe go to college, find a nice place to live. Living a life, instead of running from one dead end to another. Forever caught in the trap I’d been stuck in since I was born.
“Okay. I’ll take it,” I said, gazing up at him.
He took a step closer, still towering over me, the hungry look back in his eyes that had the wings of hundreds of butterflies going crazy in my stomach. I licked my suddenly dry lips. He briefly closed his eyes, tipping his head back.
“Thank you, Melanie. You’ve made me very happy.” His hand came up to the side of my face.
I hated how making him very happy made me all tingly inside. I wanted him happy. I resisted the urge to nod like a good little girl. He’d come into my life, turning it upside down and disrupting the sliver of normalcy I’d created, but I wanted him happy. I felt it deep down like his existence wasn’t as perfect as I imagined. Every so often I got a glimpse of him, the real him, and the rawness he displayed didn’t come from a life of perfection. He had cracks too and he let me see them.
His hand hovered an inch from my skin and I ached to rest my cheek against his palm. Savor his hands on me in a way beyond a polite interaction. Then he dropped it, holding it out to me for a shake. I slid my hand into his and the second our skin touched I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble because the energy that pulsed between us wasn’t something I could deny for long and from the look in his eyes I don’t think he wanted to either. It was a power that threatened to consume me. I’d been through so much shit in my life I was ready to finally make a choice about which ledge I leaped from. I could already tell the fall from Rhys’s cliff would hurt more than most. It would be from so much higher than I’d ever dreamed of going, but I knew no matter what happened my life would never be the same.
11
Rhys
I bit back a moan the second her pink tongue ran along her lips to wet them, giving them a glossy shine that drove me to the brink with a need to possess them. To possess her. As much as bringing her here had to do with Esme, the small voice in the back of my head told me it was also for me. All for me. She’d seen the burn in my eyes, the cracks in my mask, and she hadn’t run.
Careful. Methodical. Precise. That had always been my way. As much as everyone thought I ruled my life with a golden touch, I didn’t. I wrestled with that every day. Freefalling and not being in control of my own destiny. But with Melanie, the freefall wasn’t sca
ry. Didn’t push me toward despair. It was like the first gasp of air as you claw your way to the surface of the water. An injection of something I hadn’t known I needed. To embrace the chaos. Being around her pushed me toward a side of myself I’d tried to shove deep down for so long.
I showed her back to her room, shoving my hands in my pockets, so I didn’t push her up against the wall, fist my hand in her hair until she cried out and then delve deep into her mouth, breathing her in until I didn’t know where she began and I ended. Her legs wrapped around my waist and squeezing her ass in my hands as I ground against her until she begged me to take her.
As much as I wanted to bend her over the foot of her bed, I also had to think about the consequences. About how this could all blow up in my face, if I didn’t ensure I put my daughter first. Melanie was under my roof and working for me now. The rest could wait. I was a patient man. I’d been instilled with self-denial since birth. I could wait a little longer. And then I’d have her. I’d make her mine.
Sitting behind my desk, scotch in hand, tablet in the other, I flipped through yet another email. Another election. Another roadblock on my path to freedom. My pulse pounded as my anger coiled in my stomach like a cobra ready to strike. My temples throbbed as I squeezed the tablet. The cracking glass split the quiet of my wood covered prison. I glanced down at the shattered screen. The board challenges were piling up and my suspicions of who was behind it hadn’t been confirmed yet, but I only knew of one person who’d dare come up against me.
He lurked in the shadows, simmering anger at the public’s opinion of me. Going to the same boarding school, we’d been close. Our merry band of troublemakers made my time there bearable, but things change. The summer his dad went to jail all that changed. People change and here we were. One of my best friends growing up was now set on destroying me and everything I’d worked for. I sent a message to Rachel to get to work with digging deeper. I needed to know what he planned.
Apparently, being known in public as a complete asshole didn’t sit well with him even though it was a fairly apt description. Whereas he was the asshole vilified in the press, I was the saint, but we both had the same dark soul. I was just much better at hiding it. The secrets and lies ran through my veins. Something made him decide to come after me now. I didn’t know what it was, but it had to be something big for him to risk this.
He didn’t realize how much more was at stake for me than just reputation. He thought I put on the mask to laugh at people behind their backs, but I put on the mask because it was the only way I knew how to survive. And I’d rain down burning fire on him to make sure I kept what was mine. Far from what people assumed, I’d had little of my own over the years. Even now, the life I created was a façade. Melanie was my chance for someone of my own.
She’s yours, repeated in my head. So close now. Only a few doors down. The circle of who was mine now included Melanie. She was mine now. She didn’t know it, but she was. She belonged to my family. I’d seen how they were together, so easy and happy. It had never been that way with my wife. By the time Esme was born, Beth was past the point of no return. Esme’s time right after birth in the neonatal intensive care unit for substances found in her blood was smoothed over by a generous donation to the hospital. I hadn’t been able to bring Beth back no matter how much I tried. No matter how many barriers I’d put up to keep her safe. She wanted out and she’d gotten it.
I’d kept her overdose out of the news. I’d managed to keep that quiet, locked everything down under so much legal bullshit no one who knew would dare speak a word. I’d said it was an accident in our home. She mixed her sleeping pills up and passed away peacefully in our bed. A tragic end to the wife of a philanthropic billionaire. Nothing more, but I knew the truth and I’d do everything I could to protect Esme and her happiness. Happiness that meant keeping Melanie close. Esme’s happiness.
It was because of the connection Melanie had with my daughter that I hadn’t threaded my fingers through her hair when she sat in front of me and claimed her mouth, nipping her as I breathed her in. Fuck her and forget her didn’t seem like it would work this time. But I could be patient. I’d let her help us and then I’d help myself to her.
But I had to be careful in my freefall. I couldn’t scare her off, but I wanted her to know that this between us would happen. She felt it too. I felt her pulse pounding when I shook her hand and saw her shivers when she saw me watching her. She saw it, but soon she’d know it. Know what it felt like to belong to me. I hoped she could handle everything I was ready to give her because I didn’t think I’d be ready to let her go any time soon.
12
Mel
I cracked my eyes open and saw the sun was barely above the horizon. No creepy stalker watching me and that meant I could go right back to sleep. My nightmare was different this time. I could still smell the warm cinnamon rolls in the oven, but I hadn’t woken in a cold sweat. Instead, I’d been able to roll back over in my warm new bed and close my eyes again.
Something huge landed on my side.
“Oof!” The air rushed out of my lungs.
“Good morning, Mel,” she said, so chipper, like she hadn’t just tried to collapse one of my lungs. I flipped the blankets down to get a good look at her.
“Good morning, Esme.” I glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. “Isn’t it a little early?”
She was still in her heart and dragon pajamas, complete with a little robe and slippers. Her little arms wrapped around a white stuffed bear. My heart thudded as I looked at it. It wasn’t the same one, I knew that was impossible, but it was so familiar it nearly brought tears to my eyes.
“No, not too early. My daddy said I’m not allowed out of my room until the little hand is on six and the big hand is on six now. What are we going to do today?” She vibrated with the energy only kids possessed.
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe we should see if your dad has anything planned.”
“Okay. Can I have some breakfast?”
“Sure, why don’t we drop your stuffed animal off in your room and I’ll get you some food.” I hated how much it got to me. How much it hurt to see that bear. I rolled out of the bed and Esme grabbed onto my hand.
We dropped off her bear and walked to the kitchen. The whole time she swung my arm back and forth and came up with all her plans for what she thought we should do today.
“Kiddo, we only have twenty-four hours in a day and it’s almost winter. I don’t think a day at the beach, plus the zoo, going to the library and for ice cream are going to get done. Why not pick one of those and we’ll add the rest to our list. What do you want to eat?” I stood in front of the wall of cabinets and a fridge that looked big enough to hold an entire side of beef.
“Can I have some pancakes?” Of course, she would start with the hard stuff. I opened a few cabinets like a short stack would appear behind one of the doors.
“What about a cup of coffee or something?”
“I’m little, Mel. I can’t have coffee,” Esme said, laughing like it was the funniest joke in the world. I pulled out my phone. Pancake recipe coming up.
“You have to help me, though. I can’t do it all on my own.” I grabbed the flour and other ingredients.
“Sure.” Esme scooted a chair across the tile floor. I cringed as I figured that was bound to wake the dead as it screeched its way beside her. When Esme hopped up on the chair it was like staring into a looking glass, except it wasn’t Esme there, it was me. So small and happy. I gulped past the tightness in my throat.
“I’ll crack the eggs, but I’ll need your help with the stirring.”
Esme nodded enthusiastically, sending her hair flying all over the place.
“Should we add some chocolate chips?”
She jumped up so fast she nearly fell off the chair. I took that as a yes.
After the first ten pancake flipping failures, I finally got the hang of the flipping. Esme gobbled them up almost as fast as I could make them, so I tried to
keep them small. Bacon sizzled in the other pan I had going. I put some music on through my phone and did a little morning cooking dance and Esme hummed as she shoveled the pancakes into her mouth. The snick of the syrup bottle being opened made me turn around. She drowned those semi-burnt oddly shaped pancakes.
“No more syrup. You’re going to—” The words died in my throat. It wasn’t Esme. It was Rhys. He stood beside her at the table. His hair a tousled mess, in pajama pants and no shirt. His tanned, muscled chest taunted me.
“Am I not allowed to have any?” he said, plate in hand.
“Of course you can. I…I was just letting Esme know it wasn’t a good idea to add another metric ton of syrup to her pancakes. They are already pretty sweet.”
“They sure are.” He cut off a small piece of the chocolate chip pancake and slid it into his mouth. My body heated up like fire across my skin and the spatula nearly fell out of my hand. “You’re on fire, Melanie.”
I sure was, but how did he know that?
“What?”
He pointed his fork behind me. I turned and a fiery brick of charcoal sat in the middle of my pan, flames dancing around the edges of it. Oh shit! I grabbed the pan off the burner and thrust it under the facet turned on high. A cloud of steam and smoke blew up into my face. I washed the remnants of the pan down the drain and went back to the burner, ladling some more batter inside, and turned down the fire on the sizzling and popping bacon.
Rhys and Esme chattered about all her plans for the day. Esme popped up at latest twice for more pancakes. I had no idea where she put the mountain of pancakes she devoured. Her body had to be about 75 percent pancake at this point. I just tried to focus on not burning the place down. I refused to turn around, keeping my focus solely on the pan and the pancakes. A chair scraped along the floor. I would have to cut her off. I didn’t think it was right for a kid to eat twelve chocolate chip pancakes in one sitting.