ROMANCE: The Bad Boy Meeting

by Kevin, Amanda

  “The DEA?”

  “That’s right. You’re going away for a long time, Robert.” Keith said.

  Robert spun around, his eyes bulging out of his head in anger. As the dragged him away and put him in the helicopter he was screaming about a wolf man and cursing the two who had finally busted him. He slammed his fists against the window to no avail. As the helicopter took off, his words were muffled by the loud sounds the propeller made as it took off into the night sky, leaving Keith and Rachel alone.

  Chapter Ten

  They stood on the roof and watched the helicopter fly away before they turned and took the elevator down to the first floor. As the walked out a storm of DEA agents entered the building, handcuffing people as they tried to escape.

  The valet was in a state of shock and so he didn’t hand them their keys. He was staring at the men who had begun herding people out into police vans. Keith dug around until he found the keys to the car they’d drove there.

  As the walked to the car, they were in total silence. There was a lot to be said but neither seemed willing to start the conversation. Hell, were there even words for what had happened? Rachel had so many questions but she had no idea how to even begin asking them.

  She got into the car and leaned back in the seat, taking a deep breath. She turned to Keith and smiled at him, “Can we go back to your place?” She finally said.

  Keith was surprised but nodded and started the car, his brows furrowed as he considered his next words carefully, “You want to go home with me?”

  “Of course I do. You promised me wine.” She murmured, closing her eyes.

  He backed out of the parking spot and fell silent once more. After a long paused he looked over at her, “You aren’t scared of me?”

  “Why would I be scared of you?”

  “Well, because...You know…”

  “Because you can apparently turn into a wolf and snap people’s necks? Nah.” She smiled at him, turning her head to the side.

  His heart swelled with hope and he could help but smile, “You really aren’t afraid of me?”

  “You haven’t given me any reason to be afraid. You’ve never hurt me and I don’t think you ever would.” She said, curling up in the seat.

  He smiled and shook his head. “I wouldn’t.” He whispered, glancing over as she dozed off.

  Keith didn’t wake her up when they got back to his house. He picked her up and carried her inside and laid her out on the bed. He undressed her and tossed the tattered dress on the floor. He slipped out of his own clothes and crawled into bed, wrapping himself around her.

  She sighed happily in her sleep and curled even closer to him. She’d always enjoyed how warm he was. Sleeping beside Keith was the best sleep she’d had in months. She didn’t wake up in the middle of the night and slept well into morning.

  When the sun finally started to filter through the curtains, she opened her eyes and sat up, looking around the familiar room. She smiled and turned over, kissing his sleeping form and stroking his cheek. He looked so peaceful when he slept.

  His gray eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her, smiling happily. “Morning beautiful.” He sang, leaning up and kissing her.

  She smiled and returned the kiss, settling back into the bed. She stared up at the ceiling for a long time before she spoke again, “So...This whole, avoiding me and trying to make me hate you thing that you did for so long. Was it because of this?” She asked, looking over at him.

  “Because of what?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. Was it because you’re a….wolf-man-thing?”

  “I’m a werewolf, and yes. That was the reason. I was afraid you’d find out and I’d have to leave.” He admitted, “I would rather have you hate me and still be around than have to leave and never see you again.” He sighed, closing his eyes, “That was my worst fear for a long time.”

  She nodded and looked up and him, kissing him tenderly. “Has it happened before?”

  “Once.” He said, not really wanting to go into anymore detail.

  Rachel nodded but didn’t press him for more information. “Well, I’m not that easy to get rid of.” She murmured, smiling up at him.

  He laughed a little and nodded. “Is that so?”

  “Hell, yeah. I’m super stubborn, so if we’re going to be an item, you’ll have to get used to that.” She pointed out.

  He laughed and they fell into a comfortable silence. Everything was comfortable with Keith. It always had been. That was why she’d been so angry when he avoided her. She knew they were meant to be and the idea that he would cast her aside just seemed so...stupid. They were perfect together and could only better each other.

  She smiled and rubbed his chest a moment, “You’re the best partner I ever had, you know?” Rachel admitted.

  “On the force or in the bedroom?”

  “Both.” She said with a grin.

  He laughed again and rubbed her back. “Same. You make it hard to focus, though. I react without thinking when you’re in trouble. If I keep transforming like this, it might cause us some trouble.”

  “Nothing we can’t handle.”

  He looked down at her and pulled her close, his brows furrowing “You’re really going to stay?” He asked, sounding like he didn’t quite believe it.

  “Of course I am.” She murmured.

  “I just...Have to make sure.” He said with a sigh.

  She looked up at him and stole a kiss. “I care about you, Keith and I might even love you. Besides, I’m totally a dog person.”

  Rachel had tried to brush off the fact that she’d just told him she loved him. It didn’t slip past Keith, however and he pressed his lips to her temple, smiling.

  “I love you too, Rachel.”

  DIVIDED

  By Rachel S. William

  Copyrights © 2015 by Rachel S. William

  All rights reserved. No part of this publications may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author and the publisher.

  WARNING: This e- book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It maybe be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY.

  Please ensure that this book is stored somewhere that cannot be accessed by an underage reader.

  Chapter 1

  I stood, being sure to smooth out my black Chanel mini dress. Mother told me it was a mistake that no one would take me seriously with my back showing and my hem so far away from my knees. She even replaced the dress with a more subdued knee-length pencil skirt. I wore the skirt to breakfast, even smiling while Mother and Father cooed at my much more conservative attire, but changed into the dress she detested at my first chance. I knew they would have to see me eventually. We worked in the same office building for Christ-sake. They will realize that I defied them.

  I can’t wait.

  The subdued applause ended as I took my stance in the front of the conference room. I ran my hands through the curls that had taken me almost an hour to complete that morning, wrapping my long hair into one roll on my right shoulder, then cleared my throat, turning my attention to the then covered sketches I had completed for the upcoming fashion show. I uncovered them, leaving a pause for reaction.

  Like clockwork, a collective gasp rippled through the room. There was the sound of pens clicking, pages turning, chairs moving and scribbling as people jotted down what she assumed was complete and utter support.

  “So, you see here...” she pointed to a rough sketch of a dress standing alone on an easel. “This is the center piece. I imagine it red and black for the show, but I am open to other options when it is released to YSL.” She explained.

  There were collective nods from the business people that filled the room, so I smiled, thinking this would be a piece of cake. But then someone raised their hand. It was one of the older women. When I nodded at h
er, she cleared her throat and moved her long, graying hair behind her ear. Titling her slightly too-large head so far that her elongated earring trickled down the center of her cleavage.

  “Yes, Clarisse?” I sighed.

  She shot me a tight smile, muttered a, “Thank you,” and then sat up even straighter than she already was to launch into the whole, “I think this whole line is a little risqué for something inspired by the office.” She explained in a harsh voice.

  I raised an eyebrow. She was just the kind of conservative women my age loved to ignore. “Well, as is described by these captions,” I started in a confident voice. “This isn’t actually all to be envisioned in an actual office. Some of these are for cocktail hour…” My voice trailed off as I scanned my drawings for the appropriate outfit. “Ah…” I murmured, pointing at the satin crop top and skirt combination designed for, ‘cocktail hour,’ “like this,” I replied.

  She nodded slowly, but then replied with, “but what message are you sending middle aged women?” she demanded.

  The entire room had become fully engaged in this altercation, their heads moving from her side to mine as they tried their best to catch every word, every quip, and every retort. “Look, Clarisse,” I started. I could just feel the entire room on my side. “First of all, YSL does not market to woman your age. It markets more to women closer to my age, in their twenties: old enough to afford us, but still young enough to want to wear one of these,” I pointed at a high wasted skinny cut pant, “to a business meeting. It’s the perfect combination of chic and classic. A woman should be able to express herself.” She explained.

  But Clarisse was adamant. “Yes, at the expense of her credibility right?”

  I could tell that by the fact that she was raising her voice that she was more than a little put off by my backhanded insult that meant she was much too old to have an opinion about any of this anyway. “If you believe a woman loses or gains credibility based off of what she is wearing, and not as a measure of her actual work ethic or mental value, than I don’t know what to tell you, because a fashion line isn’t going to fix the problem that you have in mind.” I replied in a harsh voice.

  I could have sworn I thought I saw the woman practically melt right in front of me, she was so embarrassed. Her face turned an odd crimson color as she hastily nodded and returned her attention to the blank notepad in front of her. I could almost feel the entire room fawning all over me as I stepped back and adjusted my attention to address the entire room.

  “All right. So, there you have it. This is my line. Although I do not completely agree with Clarisse, I do understand the issue she brings up. Women will not be taken seriously unless they demand to be taken seriously, in whatever form they chose. Men can wear what they want, as long as it’s a classy look, so why can’t women have the same courtesy extended to them. With this line, I am saying, ‘No one will judge you for being who you are,’” I finished to a room full of applause.

  After standing there, taking it all in for, what some would say, was a second or two too long, I replaced the covers on all of the diagrams and then took my seat, graciously accepting the nods of approval from all of the board members. After that, there was one short presentation about a proposed new shoe line and some other thing, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was thinking more so about how I was going to convince mother and father to let me go to a club tomorrow night. My best friend (Jessica, a girl I met in the little amount of time that I was at art school in downtown Paris was a DJ at one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. Well, she was about to be one… and she wanted me to come out and support her on her first night. The thought of finally having a place to wear my gold, sequined dress, or finally having an excuse to actually go out, was enough to make me brave my harsh parents for long enough to ask them to let me go. I knew the possibility that they would reject this idea was high, but something about attempting to sneak past the guards and the security system in the middle of the night was a little more than I was willing to do.

  The sounds of people shuffling around wrenched me out of my own thoughts. “All right. If no one has anything else to add…” Clarisse muttered as she closed her own notebook.

  But no one responded, because, of course, there was nothing else to add.

  Chapter 2

  I packed up my things as quickly as possible and escaped out into the hallway, listening to the rhythmic sounds of my heels stomping against the polished marble floors. I had scarcely reached the end of the fairly deserted hall when the not so dreaded meeting with my parents occurred. My mother stepped out of a different conference room, her sharp cheekbones made even sharper by her precise contouring job and by the scowl on her face, no doubt put there by whatever altercation she had just experienced with the rest of the editors. She walked with her sharp, blue eyes trained straight ahead, but when she noticed me with my long reddish hair and my stiletto heels, she stopped in her tracks, nearly dropping her large portfolio onto the ground in front of her.

  My heart skipped a beat, but I stood my ground anyway.

  As if embarrassed by her own actions, she cleared her throat, bent down to pick up the portfolio and then turned to face me, her jaw dropping as she got a good look at my dress and realized that I had changed it. She set her jaw. “How did the meeting go?” it slithered out of her mouth like the darkest sneer anyone could imagine.

  I cleared my throat. “Fine.” I replied, trying to keep my voice from shaking even though I was secretly enjoying the excitement. “They had some issues with the color on the dress of the-“ I started, but my words got lodged in my throat when she wrapped her thin fingers around the top of my arm and dragged me into the nearest, now empty, conference room, slamming the door behind her and drawing the blinds.

  I gulped.

  “Do you have any idea how much you have now embarrassed me in my own workplace?” she demanded.

  I shook my head, because I had no idea how whatever I was wearing could possibly embarrass her.

  She scoffed at this, completely unentertained by my smart response. “Look, I thought you were going to wear what you had on this morning? Why would you change?”

  I shrugged. “Because I had no intention of wearing what you picked out for me.” I replied.

  She nodded slowly. “You realize no one will take you seriously right?” she retorted in the most awfully insulting voice.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really, because I just completed a meeting during which every single one of them took me seriously.” I replied.

  She crossed her arms.

  “In fact,” I continued, leaning off of the wall, “The entire line got passed.”

  Before I could even smile in self-satisfaction, I felt something hard slap me in the face. My neck snapped to the left and my hand flew to my cheek almost instinctively. I could not believe she had just slapped me in a public place like this. I almost cried out of sheer shock. “Mother, what the hell?” I demanded.

  She barely allowed me time to recover, grasping my chin with her hand and forcing me to look up at her. “You do not talk to me in this way.” She hissed.

  I winced at the sensation of her bony fingers digging into my skin, but clamped my jaw shut because I wanted it to stop. My heart pounded against my chest with a kind of frenzy that could only be alleviated if I punched her right back. But I couldn’t, because she was my mother. I had to stay here and be quiet, because God forbid she fire her own daughter for insubordination. The precious high I had just been sitting on from the successful meeting was all but gone. She had covered me in her disdain such that I was drowning in it; such that I could not possibly find my way out of it.

  Tears welled up in my eyes once more, but they were not of shock.

  Mother’s eyes went wide as she stared into mine. She bit her plump, lipstick-covered bottom lip, then let go of my chin, releasing a harsh, deep sigh. “I don’t know how to make you understand.” She whispered only because she did not want her voice to carry outside
of this small room into the hallway where anyone could hear her. She shook her head, pacing back and forth, her stilettos making rhythmic tapping sounds into the ground. “Your father and I are trying to raise a truly magnificent woman. What kind of dragon will you be if you cannot even present your human form in a respectable manner? What kind of control or restraint can we expect, or even hope to see from you if you’re baring you bony back for everyone to see?” she demanded, turning her frustrated face on to me.

  I released a huff of breath, because I had no words to spare for her. I was going to be just fine as a dragon, even more fine than the apologetic, weak minded, servant of a daughter they would have me be. I didn’t want to listen to their advice because how could they know what was best for me if they didn’t even really know me? I flexed my jaw, wincing at the dull ache radiating through the bones that made up my face, a small part of me in the back of my mind, wondering if she had messed up my makeup, or, even worse, left a scar.

  Just as I was making my way to the door, she opened her mouth as if to say something else.

  I stopped with my hand on the doorknob and turned to look at her, patiently waiting for whatever else would come out of her mouth, because for one true moment, I actually believed she might apologize to me. Or, at the very least, tell me what she was actually thinking. But instead, she just cleared her throat and said, “Don’t forget, you have the Selection after lunch at two today.” Her voice sounded raw, as if she had been screaming instead of just murmuring to me.

  My heart plummeted into my stomach. “Right.” I muttered. The Selection: something every dragon my age waited their entire lives for; something I would rather never have to do.

  “Also, there is a crease in your make up where I-…” Mother stopped herself, trailing off. It was so much less than glamorous to admit to slapping anyone, much less your own child.