Shut Up and Kiss Me

by Madeline Sheehan

  In the space of a heartbeat, Mila appeared to think a thousand thoughts, and question every single one of those thoughts before pushing back her own chair, and just as the waiter hurried to assist her, she was on her feet and smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt.

  Smiling, Will offered Mila his hand. She looked beautiful tonight, and the thought of her realizing that he’d lied to her—over something so trivial, no less, and could result in him losing her before they’d even had the chance to really begin—caused his stomach to flip.

  Taking her hand in his, he curled his fingers tightly around hers, unwilling to let her go without a fight. He began guiding her quickly back through the restaurant. Once they’d breached the entranceway, Will started scanning the street, finding his car immediately. As if on cue, the engine started and the headlights flashed.

  As they walked brusquely down the sidewalk, neither of them spoke, though Mila’s hand clung tightly to his, more so now than ever before. He’d made her nervous and wary of him, causing a foreign feeling to erupt inside him. How would she react? Whereas in his past relationships, money had always been a deal sealer, how strange that now it could very become a deal breaker.

  Though, it wasn’t his money that would be the deal breaker, he knew that. It was the fact that he’d hidden it from her, that he’d pretended to be someone he wasn’t, something—at this exact moment—he was wishing he actually was.

  By the time they’d reached the car, Richard was standing outside of it and Mila was looking curiously up at him. She recognized him, no doubt, Will thought, from the night they’d first met. Though she hadn’t seemed to place him quite yet, she continued to give him quizzical glances.

  Giving Will a long look but keeping his mask in place, Richard opened the back door and gestured them inside. Mila released his hand to slide inside the car, and when she was out of sight, Richard raised his brow in question. Will shook his head and, ignoring Richard’s disapproving stare, followed Mila inside.

  “Home,” he told Richard.

  “Sir?”

  “Home,” Will said firmly, catching Richard’s look in the mirror. With a small nod, Richard pulled away.

  “I’m sorry, Mila,” he started, just as Mila said, “Will, what’s going on?”

  They both smiled at one another before Will pressed his lips together and again reached for her hand. She allowed him, even going as far as threading her fingers though his. Internally he took a deep, calming breath, and steeled himself for what would come next.

  “I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” he said, getting straight to the point. Between his, Mila’s fingers twitched. “But before I divulge my truths to you, let me first explain myself.”

  He looked away from her, though he hadn’t been looking directly at her to begin with, not wanting to see her confused expression.

  “It’s hard for me to trust people,” he continued, staring intently at his own reflection in the tinted glass. “I’ve learned time and time again that most people will take advantage.”

  “Take advantage of what?” Mila whispered. Her hold on his hand loosened considerably, though she didn’t yet pull away.

  “Of money,” he said, his tone sounding as flat as he felt in that moment. “Most people, when they know what I’m worth, they almost always take advantage.”

  Silence followed his words, and he didn’t bother disrupting the quiet, for the sole reason that he didn’t yet know what else to say. Another first for him.

  It was only when Mila pulled her hand entirely from his that he finally glanced in her direction, acutely feeling the simple loss.

  “Mila—”

  “What have you lied about? How much money do you have?” she asked, her big eyes intently watching him. Her expression, no longer confused or distrusting, seemed almost…curious. “I don’t care about money.” She looked offended, and he rushed to correct her assumption that he was mistrusting of her.

  “I know you don’t, Mila. You’re better than that, much better. But not everyone is like that.”

  He took a deep breath, this one not quite so secret, and—feeling slightly suffocated—unconsciously began to pull his top shirt button free.

  “I’m not the manager of Infinity,” he admitted. “I own it. In fact, I own a total of thirty-six nightclubs across the country. I didn’t rent a car service for the evening either.” He paused and gestured toward Richard. “He is my personal driver.”

  Mila’s expression didn’t change, nor did her gaze waver. She seemed to be simply taking it all in, and much to his surprise, listening rather intently.

  He cleared his throat and decided to continue. “I come from a very wealthy family, prominent in the stock market, notorious for their ability to turn nothing into a more than lucrative empire. Because of it, all my life I’ve been surrounded by vultures looking at me as their ‘in’ to the lifestyle…” He trailed off, still fiddling with his tie, and started shaking his head. “I didn’t want that anymore. I wanted something real.”

  “You talk about money like it’s a curse,” she said softly.

  He smiled without humor. “It’s not the money that’s the curse—it’s what comes with the money. Or should I say, the people that come with it.”

  “So why are you telling me this?” she continued, her eyes dropping to her lap, her bottom lip disappearing beneath her top row of teeth.

  Will’s nostrils flared and he found himself reaching for her hands. Clasped together in her lap, he covered them both and squeezed. “Because, Mila, I want something real with you.”

  She looked up at him through her lashes, her gaze surprisingly kind as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He found himself returning her smile, both their smiles growing in intensity along with the other’s until they were both sitting there across from one another, grinning like fools.

  Just then the car came to a stop, and the engine cut. Mila’s eyes widened slightly, her questioning expression directed at him.

  “We’re here,” he said, reaching for the door.

  A light touch on his arm brought him up short and he glanced over his shoulder.

  “Where?” Mila asked.

  “My home,” he said simply and opened the door.

  Richard was already on the side, waiting to assist Mila out of the car, but Will waved him off and offered Mila his hand, aiding her out of the car and up onto the walk.

  “Home sweet home,” he said, gesturing to the brownstone looming above them. Mila’s eyes lifted, and lifted, her gaze widening as she took in everything that lay before her.

  “This is all yours…?” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “Holy shit,” she said softly, through a long breath of air, and both Richard and Will chuckled.

  Her stunned expression turned surprisingly devilish as her eyes met his. “So I take it you don’t actually have any roommates, either?”

  “Not unless you count the fish,” Richard answered, his tone dry, his eyes crinkled with humor.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Goodnight, Richard,” I said, smiling at the driver.

  “Goodnight, Mila,” Richard replied, a warm smile on his face as he nodded in my direction.

  Richard was a well-built man, and a little too bulky for my tastes. With his stature, his shaved head and somewhat expressionless features, I didn’t think him particularly attractive at first. At least, not until he smiled. One smile and everything changed. He no longer seemed as hard, or unapproachable. In fact, he seemed kind, and attractive in a ruggedly handsome sort of way.

  I gave Richard another shy smile in return, and then Will was gently tugging me along into the enormous front room of his home. I looked around, trying not to feel overwhelmed by everything. The room was modern by any standard, and hugely masculine. Decorated in moody grays and stark whites, each wall was adorned with a lone piece of artwork, and tall windows were framed by straight dark gray curtains. Two large yet simple dark gray sofas sat opposite from
each other, and in the corner was a sleek black piano. I didn’t see any family photos—in fact, I didn’t see anything that was personal to him, and I wondered if he had even decorated it at all.

  “Would you like a drink?” Will’s voice cut through my thoughts and I turned my attention to him.

  “Yes, please.”

  “I’ll explain everything, I promise. It’s really not as bad as it seems.” He said the words with a small shrug and a gentle laugh, but his guilty expression told a different story.

  He led me along the hallway to a large kitchen. Again, it was simply decorated, though filled with large appliances that looked like they were rarely used. White walls and black granite countertops were everywhere. A tall glass cabinet stood on one side of the kitchen next to a large refrigerator. Pulling out two wine glasses from within, he then moved across the room and slid out a bottle of wine free from a nearby rack. Holding up his findings, he looked at me with a questioning expression.

  Once I’d nodded, Will led me into a lounge and gestured for me to take a seat on one of several large sofas. The room had appeared stiff and uncomfortable, almost uninviting, yet the material was soft beneath me, molding to my body. Taking a sip of wine, I looked up at Will expectantly, waiting for him to begin, to say something. Anything. Because right now, my instincts were telling me that whatever he had to say would change everything for me—for us. That my simple meeting with such a kind man was becoming anything but simple.

  But I didn’t run. I had done enough running. It was time to stop and listen. I didn’t have to stay if I didn’t like what he said, but I knew, could feel it in my gut, that I should give him the benefit of the doubt before I made any rash decisions.

  “I like you. Can I just say that straight out?” Will laughed almost nervously. “I’d like to get it out in the open—get everything out in the open, really. But how I feel about you—the feelings that you’ve stirred in me—well, that seems like the best place to start.”

  The corner of my mouth quirked in the face of his bumbling admission.

  Noticing this, Will smiled broadly at me. “I like you, Mila. A lot.”

  He stopped speaking then, and waited, more than likely waiting for me to reply. I didn’t, mostly because I honestly had no idea what I should say. I did like him—a lot, of course—but the new revelation had left me reeling.

  “Okay, I deserve the silence,” he continued, laughing nervously again. “The thing is, in my world, people don’t like me for me—they like me for my family, for the money, for what I can do for them.”

  Pausing, he took a long drink of his wine, and then clasped the glass in both hands and looked down at his feet.

  “My mother, I love her, but God she’s a meddler. She’s constantly setting me up on dates with women who are from wealthy or distinguished backgrounds…” Pausing, he glanced up. “It’s something she’s done with all of my siblings, and they were happy to let her.”

  I swallowed back a brand new wave of feelings, feelings I wasn’t prepared for or used to, and didn’t have clue what to do with. “But you’re not?” I asked warily.

  “No. God, no.” Snorting derisively, he shook his head. “I’m the youngest in my family, and probably the biggest disappointment to my mother and father.” He laughed again, no longer nervous but sounding angry and bitter. “To my siblings as well, no doubt.”

  “How can you be a disappointment to anyone?” I asked softly, genuinely confused. Lifting my hand from my lap, I gestured around us, at the lavish home and fixings. He’d achieved so much, was obviously a very successful businessman, not to mention handsome, intelligent, funny. How could anyone ever be disappointed in him?

  “Stocks and shares,” he said. “That’s my family’s dealings. Old money, rich money, names, and who you know. Not nightclubs and cocktails. Consider me the next best thing to the black sheep of the family.”

  Floored, I stared up at him, feeling full of disbelief that his family could be so shortsighted. But then I remembered my own past, and how very shortsighted a person could truly be. Clearing my throat, I attempted a smile.

  “So you’re the rebel of the family?” I asked.

  “I guess you could say that, yeah.” Dragging a hand across his jaw, he shook his head and gave me a tired smile. “I just want to be honest with you, about everything, before this thing with us goes any further.”

  “Why?” I asked gently.

  He frowned. “Because a forever can’t be built on lies. If you want it to last, it has to be built on truth.”

  My palms felt suddenly sweaty, and all I could do was nod in response. Forever? My God…

  I took another drink of my wine, just to give myself a few of seconds to think, and ended up nearly choking on it. I felt overwhelmed by everything, but mostly because my own guilt was eating me up. Here he was telling me everything about him, about how he felt about me, and using words like “forever.” It was the perfect time for me to come clean as well, to tell him about me and about my secret. But I couldn’t seem to find the words.

  “I’ve grown accustomed to women using me,” he continued. “Though I can honestly say that it didn’t always bother me.” He glanced around the room, looking embarrassed by his admission. “But the older I got, the more tiresome it became, knowing that these women only wanted me for the money, for my family name. They’re cheap, these women. I guess that makes me cheap, too. So I tend to… I usually leave before they wake up.”

  His eyes flitted to mine. “When I met you, I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to that anymore, that I was going to take it slow. But when it didn’t turn out that way…”

  Will trailed off and I found myself frowning. What was he trying to tell me? That he’d thought I’d spent the night with him for selfish reasons? That he thought I was as cheap as all the others?

  “So you left before I woke up because you thought I was cheap?” I asked, sounding far more aggressive than I’d meant to.

  Will’s eyes widened, and he hurried to set down his glass and then reach for me. But I was quicker. Standing up before he could touch me, I swiftly backed away from him.

  “I meant what we did was cheap,” he continued hurriedly, still reaching for me.

  My eyes went wide, my confusion-turned-anger now turning to anxiety.

  “Fuck, no,” he mumbled, letting his hand fall to his side. “That’s not what I meant at all, Mila. This is coming out all wrong. Just listen, please.”

  “I’m am listening,” I said through my teeth, “to every single word. And I’m about to walk out the door.”

  Cursing beneath his breath, he nodded and anxiously ran his hands through his hair, effectively messing it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, our gazes connecting. “You’re not what I’m used to, and you make me nervous.” He chuckled then, laughing at himself as he shook his head. “And I’m nervous because…” He trailed off, his expression becoming pained, as if he were waging a war inside himself, debating over what to say or do next.

  Finally, after several long seconds, he took a deep breath. “My family isn’t going to approve of you,” he said, and this time when our eyes met, I was the one who undoubtedly appeared pained. “And I’m going to hate them for it,” he continued, “but they’re just going to have to deal with it because there’s no way I’m letting you go. I may have lied to you about who I was when we met, but I promise you from here on out, I’ll never lie to you again.”

  He paused, looking once again his usual confident self, his unwavering gaze on me, while it was I who was forced to take a calming breath.

  “I’m yours, Mila. All of me.”

  The sincerity in his eyes, along with his admission of…everything. My God, my heart was thundering in my chest. Never before had I wanted to scream my secrets aloud, at him, to tell him my truths—of who I really was. It was in that one moment that I realized I’d just one hundred percent, irrevocably, fallen for him. Not just because of his admissions, or the depth of h
is feelings for me, or for the desperate look taking over his features just then as he waited for me to respond. But for all of it. All of him.

  I’d fallen into a cheesy romance novel, and I knew I’d never be the same again. This was it, that moment, that feeling that you read about, that no one could ever quite put into words because it was just so…indescribably…utterly…perfect.

  Setting my wine glass down, my lips pressed together, my palms clammy while my stomach flipped and flopped, I began walking toward him. My truth was there, on the tip of my tongue, ready to spill forth from my lips, to give him all of me as he’d done for me. Ready to trust someone again.

  A forever can’t be built on lies. If you want it to last, it has to be built on truth.

  I knew he was right. And I knew I needed to give him the same respect, to tell him my truths. But when I reached him, was within touching distance, he reached out and clasped both of my arms, immediately pulling me to him. When he was holding my face in his hands, his palms cupping my cheeks, his thumbs drawing achingly soft and sweet lines below my eyes, my words fell away. Staring up at him, into his bright blue eyes, I melted into his body, our mouths finally colliding.

  Hunger surged through me like electricity, the sparks of which caused us both to begin eagerly devouring one another. Desire pulsed at me. All coherent thought floated off into the void as I grabbed at him, held him close, and happily let the world become nothing more than background noise.

  All too soon Will was pulling away and out of our kiss, his roaming hands pausing in their exploration. Staring into my eyes, he pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his heated gaze slowly taking in every inch of my face.

  “You’re perfect,” he said, his nostrils flaring. “As if you were made just for me.”

  Our bodies still pressed up against one another, I could feel him through our clothing, hard and twitching, his body—all of him—just as desperate for me as I was for him.