by Molly McLain
“You made a deal,” she whispers.
I nod.
“I took down Marcos McQuistion, but it meant I had to lose you.”
My words scratch at my throat as they come out, and my eyes sting with emotion. I laugh lightly, the kind that comes from misery, then draw my legs in close, bending my knees and resting my arms on top.
“I promised your dad I would let you go, not let you get ruined by any of this—keep you out of my shitty choices and fuck ups,” I say, holding up my hand when I feel her begin to protest. “And I know what you’re about to say: Why didn’t I fight for you?”
She relaxes a little, a small crease forming between her brows, hurt coloring her amber eyes.
“I didn’t put up a fight because he was right, Mia. My problems? They would have wrecked you then and forever. This moment right here? I mean…not the shit luck of getting locked in a freezer with me, but this…your break here in Vegas? There’s no way that would have happened if you stuck by my side. You needed to be rid of me to soar, Mia. Your father was right, and I loved you too much to drag you down with me...”
Her face fallen toward her lap, I take a leap, breathing deep and reaching for her fingers, thanking God when she doesn’t jerk away from my touch.
“I love you still,” I say, and her eyes widen fast.
Her fingers are frozen against mine, her touch rigid and her breath stopped. I let her process, her features unflinching and her eyes becoming glassy from her lack of blinking after almost a minute. I let my fingers run along her hand more until I’m finally holding it in my own, my thumb tracing small circles along her wrist, yet she still doesn’t move or blink.
“Mia?”
She blinks once at her name, her eyes opening on a new focus point, somewhere in the center of my chest. I lift my other hand and wave it in her view, and her gaze slowly slides back up to meet me.
“The potatoes.”
My mouth tightens and I suck in my lower lip.
“What about them?”
Her brow furrows and her head tilts just as we hear the sound of a drill working on the hinges of our door. Her color, pale from being cold, suddenly brightens pink, and I know the only thing that could do that to her now is a shot of adrenaline, and despite how badly I want to, I also know I haven’t kissed her yet. Something is wrong with the sweet potatoes—her signature garnish.
“Jeffrey prepped all of the potatoes,” she says, her grip on my hand suddenly strong.
I dial Neil quickly, and he answers just as a worker manages to tug open the freezer door, much sooner than we’d been told.
“Yeah,” my colleague answers, and I fly from our frozen hiding place behind the girl I’ll forever be chasing, doing my best to fill him in while Mia runs straight to the sweet potato station.
“We’re just getting out, but look…the potatoes. Mia said Jeffrey prepped those, and she didn’t get to sample things, so it just hit her that possibly…”
“Relax, man. Her girl—Camille—she made sure to sample everything...three times! They never made it past the pass, and she took over prepping new ones personally.”
I see my friend in the distance, and I hold up my phone to signal that I’m hanging up. I glance down the line to catch Mia hugging a girl I’m guessing is Camille so hard that the young girl’s feet are literally lifting from the ground, and I exhale, leaning back against the door that separates the chaos of the kitchen from the pristine fairytale that plays out for the guests in the ballroom.
“That Camille girl is actually really good,” Neil says, walking up to me and wiping his hands off with his apron. “We should poach her.”
“No,” I cut in.
He squints at me, but doesn’t question my quick response. He knows how important Mia is to me.
“Anything funny come up besides…” I question, gesturing toward Mia and Camille.
“There were a couple of line guys I kicked out. I could tell they were hacks Jeffrey probably told her to hire. They didn’t argue any of it. I think it helped that it looked like I took over,” my friend says, tugging his collar slightly. He’s proud. He should be. One day—probably soon—Neil will realize he doesn’t need me. That will be a sad day.
“Speaking of that cheat…you see him?” I ask.
“Yeah…I saw him. I found out your friend Savannah Jordan’s here, though, and I may have asked her to make a quick request of her security to have someone…removed,” my friend smirks.
One of the perks of running a high-profile LA restaurant is getting to know a few of the rich and famous. Savannah’s A-list, and she and I have become friends. When someone makes her uncomfortable—it’s taken care of.
I chuckle, patting my friend on the shoulder.
“You did good, Neil,” I say. “You got this handled?”
“Yeah, but don’t you think Mia’s going to want to drive now that you guys are all thawed out?”
I considered that, but then I figured that what Mia cares about most is the end-game—a big night now to guarantee thousands of full houses in the future. One glance at the kitchen, and the works of art being set up for inspection along the pass, and I feel pretty solid that she’s going to get her way.
“You good telling everyone that matters this was her show?” I ask.
“Sure, yeah…of course,” Neil answers, one brow lower than the other.
I step up to him and re-straighten the tie he just loosened.
“Good,” I wink. “Cuz I think Mia and I forgot something in the freezer.”
Chapter 5
Mia
I get like this when I’ve had too much caffeine. My world gets bright—everything yellow and glowing, like I’ve been in the swimming pool all day and am seeing the effects of chlorine. Only I haven’t had a thing to drink in hours, and I haven’t been in a swimming pool in maybe two years.
“Shit,” I hum to myself.
“Are you alright, Mia?”
Camille dries her hands then reaches for my elbows, steadying me.
“I’m okay, I just think…” I start to giggle, maybe cry a little too, everything I’ve just learned starting to penetrate my thoughts.
“What’s wrong with her?”
My eyes dart around in the direction I heard Jamie’s voice coming from, and when my eyes finally settle on his, I start to tremble.
“She’s alright,” Jamie speaks on my behalf. “Probably just needs to warm up. I’ve got her.”
He waves off my young protégé, then links his hand with mine, his grip strong. I have no choice but to keep up with his long strides, but when he leads me right back inside the frozen box we just escaped, I dig in my heels.
“Hell no!”
He turns without pause, and before I can yell again, I’m hoisted up over his shoulder, his arm tight around my waist while he drags me—quite literally—kicking and screaming back into the goddamned freezer.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? We just got out of here!”
He flings the door closed behind us, and it bounces, not fully latching. Gesturing to the temporary pins propping up the weight of the door, he never takes his eyes off of me.
“Do you not remember the scene five minutes ago—the drilling and ripping that broke that goddamned door open? It’s not locking ever again, Mia.”
He’s shouting his words, and it incites me to step up to him, my toes to his. My finger rigid, I press it to the center of his chest and push hard. He’s twice my size, and I know I can’t physically overpower him, but damn it all to hell, I’m going to leave a bruise on his ribs at the very least.
“Get me out of this goddamned freezer, Jamie!”
“No!” His fast answer leaves me rattled.
“No?” I echo.
His hands move to his hair, digging into the strands and gripping as he takes one large step back, his eyes trained on mine. His nostrils flare with a heavy breath just before he exhales, letting his arms fall to his sides and his head tilt back so he’s looking at
the ceiling.
“No, Mia,” he says.
“I need to run the dessert. I need to make sure Jeffrey…”
“He’s been escorted out, and the dessert is handled. Neil has the trays circulating already. It’s fine. Everything…is fine.” His head falls forward again, and he looks exasperated. “Everyone important thinks tonight was yours. This…all of this…it wasn’t about me saving you, me taking over—it was about you, Mia.”
I breathe in hard, and my mouth betrays me, my lip trembling. Weak fucking lip—I hate it.
“We need to talk about what I told you. What you know now,” he says.
I shake my head, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my expression trained—hardened.
“There’s nothing to say. You got in over your head, Jamie. I get it…you were in trouble and had to leave.”
My voice breaks with that final word, and Jamie notices, his face flinching at hearing my hurt. I don’t really want to hurt him, even though for so long…I did. But I also missed him. I dreamt of him, and every other man I’ve even considered since him has been held up in judgement—never with a shot in hell at comparing.
“I did have to leave,” he says, my heart now drumming steadily. He’s inside me, his words poisoning my chemistry.
I hate it.
“Right.” I breathe out a laugh. He draws in his brow, and I bite my tongue for maybe six seconds before letting my emotions begin to speak for me.
“You had to leave…I get that. I never knew why, but even without knowing, I knew you, I knew us—so in my heart I understood that you leaving me when you did must have been for a damn good reason. So I waited, Jamie. I was the last to close every night at my father’s place, sometimes waiting an extra hour under this false delusion that you would come strolling up. That you would come back.”
His eyes tilt and his face falls.
“That’s it, Jamie. That’s why I’m done talking. That’s why this…this…grand gesture of yours is pointless. Because I waited, and you…never…came…back!”
His eyes close slowly, and not having to stare into the endless blue gives me more courage.
“You had time to open a restaurant—three fucking restaurants. You had time to meet some French girl and take her out on dates. You had time for lots of things, Jamie. You just didn’t have time for me.”
“No,” he interrupts.
“No?” I laugh out the word.
His eyes open and the blue is back; it always halts me. So clear, surrounded by a face that’s aged just right.
“That’s right, Mia. No. No to all of this—to your version of our story. No, no, no.”
I start to laugh again, but in a breath his hands are cupping my face and he’s stepping into me, guiding me backward until my shoulders are resting on a wall of boxes and his eyes are inches from mine, just far enough that I can still flit between the two.
“No, Mia,” he says, his voice a rumble now. I feel it in his fingertips, and it numbs me. He’s somehow incredibly warm, and the cold that I was beginning to feel has vanished.
“I made a promise to your dad. I swore that I would let you fly, and I was terrified of ruining that. I know the man I am. I got to where I am because I gamble—I gamble with everything. But I knew I couldn’t gamble with you. Thing is, though…” he pauses, moving closer, his mouth close enough that the next word from his lips will cause us to touch. I wish for him to speak.
“I can’t live without you anymore,” he says, his words a whisper against my lips. He stops just long enough to bring my top lip between both of his briefly, sucking in lightly. “I can’t live without you, but I know my weaknesses now. I am breaking a promise to your dad, by standing here, touching you,” he stops, his mouth making one more light pass along mine.
I shiver.
“Your dad was wrong about me,” he says, moving to the curve of my neck, his teeth grazing against my skin as his right hand sweeps down and tugs the collar of my shirt down my arm. I jolt, my lips parting, wanting to protest because we’re so public, because my staff could come in here at any moment. One touch of his lips to my skin and I forget to care about any of that. “Fuck my promises, Mia. The only ones that matter are the ones I make to you. And I’m making one right now.”
His nose tickles my ear, and eventually I feel the heat of his breath. My hands come forward, reaching for the soft white cotton of his shirt, finding the gap where both sides come together, and pulling his shirt open, sending buttons dancing across the frozen floor.
“I promise,” he begins, stopping to jerk my shirt up over my head in one rapid movement before sucking my neck and shoulder, his teeth gripping the strap of my bra.
“That I will not,” he begins and stops again, this time pausing to tug my bra free and brush his thumbs over the hard peaks of my breasts as he moves around my body, to my back. He presses a kiss between my breasts, drawing a line with his tongue up my neck as my head falls back against the wall, tilting to give him access as he tastes his way to my mouth again. He steps into me, pressing his erection against my center, and draws my face forward again, resting his forehead to mine.
“Let you end this year,” he says, eyes hazed as his tongue wets his bottom lip just before his teeth grab hold. Watching him has ruined me, and my body is melting with the need I have for all of him. We could not possibly be in a worse place, but he has me gambling now—not caring about anything other than this moment, his touch, and…
Fuck it.
My hands grip both sides of his shirt, and I pull it from him completely, moving quickly to his belt, unbuckling, unsnapping, unzipping—all while his mouth hovers a millimeter away from my skin near my mouth, around my neck, by my ear. My body tingles, and I arch in desperation, wanting his hands to touch me again, wanting him to follow through with everything he’s started.
“How, Jamie?” I speak against him, my hand gripping his hard cock. His eyes flutter to a close with my touch, and I revel in the power. He growls into my neck, biting me lightly, and I smile against his bare shoulder, tasting him for the first time in years. My senses are flooded with the familiar hunger, and my fingers dig into his skin. “You won’t let me end this year…how?”
His hands drag down my back slowly, and I arch and roll my body against his with the feel, my breasts searing from the heat of him against my nipples. His thumbs dip into my waistband, and he jerks the material into a hard grip, tugging swiftly to clear my hips, but stopping just before he can see me completely. He pulls away, without letting go, and stares into my eyes, raising one side of his mouth before looking down at my breasts. Lowering himself, he takes one nipple in his mouth, his hands still locked around the fabric of my pants and underwear, holding me in position. He sucks the tip of my breast hard, and I whimper from the sweet ache it sends all the way down my body, between my legs.
With a flick of his tongue, he jolts my body again, stopping with my nipple held hostage between his teeth. His tongue passes over the tip again, and he applies a soft pressure, the build so much that I can’t help but reach my hands into the golden brown curls of his hair, willing him to bite harder. He stops, though, kissing my raw nipple lightly and smiling as he stands back up completely, now towering over me.
I look up as he looks down. I gasp, only because I’m too weak to beg. My wait is short, though. His hands push my pants and white cotton panties down my thighs and to the floor in one motion, his hands sliding up the back of my legs, lifting me and forcing my knees on either side of him. Wet and waiting, my entrance feels the tip of him penetrate and my mouth falls open with a heavy, needy breath.
“You won’t end this year without feeling me inside of you,” he says, pushing into me swiftly, filling me completely with every familiar inch.
The fit is as if no time has passed, and Jamie moves in and out of me in slow, hard pumps as I hold on to him. My pants discarded to the floor, I wrap my legs around him completely, my body quaking with every push of his cock, deeper, until the initial
rush fades and Jamie slows his rhythm.
His mouth covers mine completely, and his kiss is desperate, but just as slow. His tongue exploring my mouth with each push into me, pulling away and clinging with his teeth before coming back to me for more.
“It’s like I’ve always been right here…us, the way you feel…it’s the same, but so much better than I remembered. Goddamn, I’ve missed you, Mia,” he says against my ear. I whimper as he pulls out of me, but I let him lead. He moves us to a private corner, tucked behind a tall stack of boxes, and he sits on one, urging me to straddle him. I do as he requests, quickly filling myself with him again, this time taking charge of our movement, my hips falling into him, then lifting slowly, each time threatening to break our connection before falling back onto him again.
I take pleasure in the power he gives me, teasing him when I feel his cock twitch with want, threatening to come. I slow long enough for him to drag my hips into him again, begging for me to start again.
His hands roam my body, digging into my ass, then sliding up my sides until his thumbs find my hard nipples. One touch threatens to send me over the edge completely, so I grab his wrists and try to force him away, but he catches me—the tiny dimple on my forehead giving me away. He could always tell when I was holding on, trying to make it last—and he always loved to ruin it.
I loved to let him.
I let him now…again…after so many years, so long apart.
I let go of my hold on his hands, moving to his shoulders to steady myself as his hands move back to my breasts, his thumbs and fingers pinching just lightly at first, but harder every time I force myself down on him.
Unable to stifle my cries, I quit caring who might hear, and I moan loudly, my head falling back and body arching, the waves so strong that I almost fall to the ground completely from sheer lack of control. Jamie holds me to him, though, his arms wrapping around me, hands lifting my hips and pulling me to him harder and harder until he growls his releases against my breasts, his body shaking with each rush as he pulls me down.