Untied: A Mastermind Novel

by Lydia Michaels

  She blinked up at him, debating if she wanted to go to dinner or his bed. “Will you sleep in my room tonight?”

  “No.” Her heart jerked, but then he grinned and said, “You’ll sleep in mine.”

  Satisfied, she nipped at his lips and giggled when he growled, kissing her deeply again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “My precious…”

  ~Gollum

  They went to a little Chinese restaurant in the city. On the drive back home, Elliot was quiet, but she was coming to realize his silence wasn’t a bad thing. It was simply part of the man he was, only speaking when he had something important to say, and that made his words all the more valuable. She, on the other hand, got squirmy when things got too quiet.

  “I hate the rain,” she said, hoping to stimulate some conversation.

  “At least it isn’t a storm.”

  “I’d rather a storm. At least then there’s some passion. This endless drizzle makes me edgy.”

  He pulled into his driveway. “You don’t seem edgy.”

  “Well, I am.”

  He glanced at her and removed the key from the ignition. “Maybe you need to catch up on sleep. It’s been a long week.”

  “I’m not tired.” If anything she had too much energy and needed an outlet—preferably sex. She shivered as the drizzle dampened her clothes.

  He walked her to the door and flipped on some lights. “I spoke to the bank several times today. The paperwork should be ready in a day or two.”

  Dropping her bag by the front door, she shook out her hair and waited for him to look at her.

  He removed his suit jacket and hung his laptop case on the hook in the hall. “You’ll need to sign everything with a notary present, but we have a woman who does that at my office.”

  Toeing off her shoes, she placed them by the door. Elliot sorted through the mail on the foyer table, still not looking at her, so she removed her shirt. Nothing.

  “Once that’s done, we’ll forward everything back to the bank in Budapest and your grandmother will have to sign off on everything.”

  “Elliot.”

  He turned and stilled, his gaze fastening to her bra. “I … thought you should know.”

  He didn’t move closer to her or put down the mail. Patiently, she sighed. “You talk too much about business. Don’t you ever just want to have fun?”

  “Business can be fun.”

  “Oh, yes, with all the acquisitions and mergers and money talk. Enough with the house. You said you’d handle it and I trust you to do just that. When the papers get here, I’ll sign. Until then, could we please be a normal couple? I feel like we haven’t had a normal conversation since we slept together.”

  His brow creased as he put the mail on the table, his posture defensive. “What does that mean?”

  How could she explain her feelings to him without offending him? While she loved his intellect, he sometimes used it as a shield and it seemed he’d been doing that with her for days. She didn’t want him to hide from her, she wanted his playful side. She didn’t want to discuss business any more than she wanted to discuss the weather.

  “It means forget about that stuff for now. We’re home. Let’s say goodbye to the stresses of the day and talk about something else.”

  He frowned. “I assumed hearing that things were working out would relieve your stress, not add to it.”

  Although she appreciated his help, it was overshadowing every minute of their time together since he woke her up that morning with the idea that he could financially save her family. She didn’t want to be a problem he had to fix. She just wanted to be herself with him—no solution needed.

  “Elliot, I want to be with you, but you have a habit of making every conversation a game of finding the solution. I know you enjoy problem-solving, but I don’t want to be a problem you must solve. I want to be the woman you want to love.”

  “I...” He glanced away then quickly said, “Helping those I care for is the only way I know how to communicate my feelings.”

  “There are other ways couples communicate. There’s body language.” Let him try to talk finances that way. She was pretty sure it was impossible.

  His expression turned wounded. “I want to be with you. I just…” He shook his head. “I’m not sure how normal couples act in private, but I’m pretty certain I can’t maul you the second we walk through the door. We’re not animals.”

  “But we are.” Relieved he wasn’t losing interest, she relaxed and tried a more delicate approach. “Well, we can talk about our day, make plans for tomorrow or the weekend, dream about places we want to visit together. But we need to talk about more than business. This is not business.” She hooked her thumbs and pushed down her pants, standing before him in only her panties and bra. “This is very, very personal.”

  His gaze drifted to the floor. “I’m not good at small talk. I’ve never been good at it.”

  “Just say the first thing that comes to mind. What are you thinking right now?”

  He glanced at her and looked away, mouth tight as if holding back his words.

  “It’s okay to tell me what you’re thinking, Elliot. I want to know. You don’t have to do me favors to make me want to listen. You already have my full attention.”

  He shifted but kept his distance. Never in her life had she met a man so closed off to simple conversation.

  He cleared his throat. “I want to kiss you … all the time.”

  Well, there was something. She smiled. “Then why don’t you?”

  “Because…” His mouth flattened as he wedged his hands in his pockets. “If I kissed you every time it crossed my mind you’d get sick of me and I’d become nothing more than a pest.”

  She scoffed at such an absurd statement. “Your kisses are not pestering me. I happen to like when you’re affectionate. Why hold yourself back?”

  He glanced away. “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

  “You won’t. Women like affection. At least I do.”

  He shifted his foot, his gaze diverted to the floor. Maybe she was putting too much pressure on him. She wanted to know him better, so she could read his signals easier.

  “Then let’s just talk,” she suggested, trying to put him at ease. “Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know.”

  “There isn’t much to know. I eat, sleep, and work.”

  She waved a finger. “Not true. I know you have secrets. Tell me one and I’ll tell you one of mine.”

  His brow creased, as he appeared to silently wager a mental debate. It shouldn’t be that difficult for him to talk to her. If they couldn’t find one topic in common they had a big problem. She tried to think about something she wanted to know about him.

  She thought of that morning when she’d been searching for an umbrella, the room with floor to ceiling shelves seemed an interesting topic. It looked like a storeroom, brimming with little boys’ toys, but not a single one was out of its package. Finding all those unopened toys said something about this man, but she wasn’t sure what.

  “Why do you have so many toys in that room upstairs?”

  His head snapped up, his gaze connecting with hers for a split second then pulling away. “They’re not toys. They’re collector’s items.”

  “But they are toys. They were made for children to play with, no?”

  “They were. When were you in that room?”

  “I was looking for a coat closet. I needed an umbrella this morning. Are you donating them somewhere?”

  “No. They’re mine.” His jaw twitched. “Some of them are from my childhood.”

  “Oh.” What would a man want with so many toys? “Why do you keep them?”

  “I like them.”

  “Do you play with them?”

  “No.” His posture tensed and she sensed he didn’t want to discuss this either. Another closed off part of him. Meanwhile, several of her vulnerabilities had been exposed over the past week.

  “I’m n
ot judging that you have them, I just wonder why they’re not opened. Didn’t you play with your toys as a child?”

  “They’re more valuable in their packages.”

  Her head tilted as she looked at him, his gaze skating away from hers. What child had so much discipline they could accumulate so many unopened toys? Little boys were meant to get dirty and break things, but Elliot was so meticulous, he preferred to keep his fun things packaged on a shelf. Had he been that way even as a child?

  His restraint was as curious as it was baffling. “Didn’t you ever want to open them? Play with them as they were intended?”

  “Sure, but then they’d be worthless.”

  “But the experience might be priceless.”

  Expression tight, he glanced at her. “When you appreciate how rare something is, you understand it should be kept safe. If I played with them every time the desire crossed my mind they’d be ruined by now.”

  She was noticing a pattern. He didn’t want to kiss her because he feared he’d pester her and scare her away. Did he see that he was treating her like another prized toy, too afraid to play with her because he might somehow damage their relationship?

  The unopened toys were plastic, so it was foolish to feel sorry for them. But she was real. She also didn’t come in a perfect package. She had flaws and emotions—and feelings.

  “I once had a doll with a broken hand,” she said softly. “Our dog chewed the fingers off and her hair was patched with bald spots from all the times I brushed it. Her skin was dirty and her one eye never stayed open, but I loved that dolly like she was my baby. To imagine never playing with her for fear that she might get messy… So many happy moments would have been lost.”

  His breathing became noticeably strained as if her story made him uncomfortable. “I’ve collected them for decades. To me, they’re not toys. They’re worth a lot of money.”

  She frowned. Didn’t he have enough money? “Do you plan to sell them?”

  “No, but if I ever have kids I’d pass the collection on to them.”

  “And what if your child wants to open one and play with it?”

  “That’s not what they’re for. I’d teach him or her how to treat them.”

  “Well, you have an answer for everything.” She turned, sad for him and sad for the kids he might someday have. And sad that every time she tried to penetrate his walls he seemed to construct another one right before her eyes.

  “Nadia, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just… I wonder why you hesitate, always measuring consequences before doing anything, but I guess that’s just who you are. If there isn’t a feasible outcome written in black and white, you hold back.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re so guarded, Elliot. Contracts. Attorneys. Shelves full of unopened toys. Where do all these trust issues come from?”

  “Are you talking about your deal with Steve? It’s poor practice not to protect a business agreement with a signed—”

  She growled and covered her face. “Did you make a contract with Asher when you started your company?”

  “Eventually, yes. It isn’t an uncommon practice. I know you’ve worked with Steve before, but this is your livelihood. You’d be tying yourself to the success of someone else’s company. Things could go wrong.”

  “I know that. But today I was excited. This is a new adventure for me, but when I told you, all you could do is worry. I know it might not work out perfectly, Elliot, but I’m okay with getting a little dirty in the process. You have to break some eggs to make a cake. Sometimes risks are fun.”

  “And sometimes being proactive is safest.”

  He wasn’t making the connection. This was more than business. This was the way he approached everything—including her. He needed to let go.

  She walked up to him and kissed him hard. His hands caught her waist as she drove her tongue into his mouth, pulling his jacket down his shoulders and reaching for his belt.

  His fingers closed around hers and he broke the kiss. “What are you doing?”

  “Let’s be messy. Show me your reckless side.”

  He stepped back. “I don’t understand what’s happening. We were talking about your studio and now you’re taking off my clothes.”

  Her gaze dropped to his belt. He wasn’t aroused. As she looked back at his face she realized he was irritated and embarrassment spiked in a way she wasn’t used to with other men.

  “I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what I was trying to do.” She was begging for him to let her in.

  “Are we in an argument?”

  Feeling rejected and confused by his restraint, she put more space between them. “No.”

  “Then what is this, Nadia? I don’t understand why you’re picking a fight.”

  “I’m not picking a fight.” The truth was, she was scared. Elliot was smarter than her and she enjoyed his intellect, but sometimes she felt two steps behind, with no hand reaching to help her catch up. And here she was making a fool of herself, throwing herself at him in her underwear when he only wanted to talk.

  Maybe he had a point. Perhaps she was too reckless. If she behaved as cautiously as Elliot, she wouldn’t have half the problems she had with men, money, and life in general.

  She’d based so much of her future on the short conversation with Steve today only to have Elliot spot every possible pitfall in a matter of seconds. She was burying her head in the sand about her family’s financial situation at home, while he was making phone calls across the world to solve her problems. She had nowhere to live and a boyfriend whose house was so immaculate even his playthings were put away on shelves.

  What if it was only a matter of time before he realized she was too damaged to fit neatly in his orderly life? Maybe he’d grow tired of identifying all the ways her life was a mess… her family, her finances, her history. While she loved being with him, it was starting to feel like a privilege she might not deserve. And his recent preoccupation with her ongoing dilemmas seemed to be building additional space between them when she just wanted him to hold her and play with her, be intimate and close to her. Maybe her mother was right…

  “I’m sorry. I… I think I’m just tired.” Glancing down at her exposed body, she flushed. She stepped back and wondered if she’d always question if she was good enough, would always come to the uncomfortable conclusion that she wasn’t.

  Brow tight, he frowned at her but said nothing. She felt exposed and embarrassed the longer he studied her like a problem he couldn’t solve.

  She was humiliating herself. “I think I’ll go to bed now. Forget what I said. You take care of things. More people should be as cautious as you.”

  She turned, scooped up her discarded clothes, and took the stairs, only wanting to escape her unstable life and the blinding perfection beaming from his. He took the steps behind her and once she reached the landing, he caught her hand.

  “Are you mad about my collection?”

  She worried that was the only way he knew how to enjoy life, by conserving the things he loved so nothing bad ever happened. He was always saying how beautiful she was, but what if that was all he liked about her? She didn’t want to sit on a shelf. But the closer they became the less intimacy they shared.

  She wanted him to play with her, muss her clothes and show his spontaneous side. But what if he didn’t have a spontaneous side?

  Elliot didn’t appear to make mistakes. He was too meticulous and, sooner or later, he’d learn parts of her weren’t so pretty. Some parts were beyond repair.

  “I’m not angry. We’re just different.”

  “But…” His eyes flashed with worry. “What are you saying, that we’re too different?”

  “No. I don’t know. I’ve never met anyone like you, Elliot. It’s intimidating.”

  “What is?”

  “You.”

  He took a step back and laughed without humor. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds coming from you?”
/>
  “I’m not being ridiculous. Look at your home, your life.” She waved a hand, encompassing all the immaculate beauty that surrounded him. “I don’t know where I fit in.”

  “I see.” His hands returned to his pockets.

  She didn’t want to insult him. “I just wish you would open up with me so I can understand you better. I want to understand you, Elliot.”

  He looked at the floor. “I spent a lot of my life not knowing where I fit in. You asked about my collections… They’re more than toys to me. You can’t just go to the store and acquire those items. Some took years of searching. It’s something that kept me busy when I had nothing better to do.”

  “But you have so many.”

  His gaze shifted to hers. “I had a lot of free time on my hands.”

  “Didn’t you do things with friends? Go to parties or hang out?”

  His cheek twitched as his eyes shielded. “No, Nadia. I collected toys. I never went to parties and I didn’t date. The highlight of my social calendar has been Comic Con for the last decade. I’m not going to stand here and be judged for something that doesn’t harm anyone and I find enjoyable.”

  She drew back. There was a difference between judging someone and trying to understand them. “Now you are angry.”

  Accusation flashed in his eyes. “What do you want from me? This is who I am. It’s who I’ve always been. I don’t judge you for the things you like.”

  “I’m not judging you!”

  “Yes, you are. You don’t understand the hobby so you see it as a juvenile pastime.”

  “Elliot, that’s not how I see it. It’s clearly important to you. The only reason I brought it up was because seeing all those unopened items scared me.”