by Aliyah Burke
Her lips pinched tight. “What happened? You were fine before.”
“I learned to be happy, and I find I like it.” He spun her off to Tiff’s father and walked to the back where Mindy sat. “Dance with me.”
She didn’t argue, rose with an inborn grace most women didn’t have even on their best day. He held her waist, her smell surrounding him, transporting him back to their shared time with one another. When her scent was embedded in his soul. The strands of music to “Hero” filled the air.
“Talk to me,” he ordered.
“No.”
“You danced with me.”
“It’s a public venue. Despite how both your and Todd’s family views me, I’m not a ghetto whore who pops gum and is obnoxiously loud with no manners.” Her brown eyes hardened. “I’m a lady. Yes, I enjoy having fun, and oh, I don’t know, eating, for sure. I’m still able to be professional when the situation calls for it.”
“You are no whore,” he growled, low in his voice. Even saying the words infuriated him beyond explanation.
“Right. I forget, rebound lay has such a much more accepting tone to it.”
Donal tightened his grip on her waist, turning her expertly in a circle. “That isn’t what you are to me.”
More fire flashed in her large brown eyes. Then, it faded, and he was faced with, well, nothing. A blank slate.
“If you’ll excuse me, the song has since ended.”
So, she was right. He didn’t want to let her go but unless he were to make a scene, he had to concede this round to her. Although it went against everything he wanted, he released her and gave her a bow. Donal attempted to follow her but was thwarted by Tiffany. She walked right into his arms, turning him around.
“My turn.”
“No, it’s not.” He set her away from him and left the dance floor. Spying his father to the side, he made his way over there. “A word,” he grunted out.
“Right now? It’s rude to leave before the newlywed couple.”
“Not a discussion I think you want to have in public.” The words were low and edged in steel.
His old man huffed. “This is about Mindy, then.”
“Move.”
The man actually appeared embarrassed. He cleared his throat. “I never—”
“I was raised to respect you, but doing what you did… I lost it.” He pointed his finger at his father. “We’re done. Don’t contact me, again.”
Donal walked out, closing the door on his father’s sputtered words.
αβ
The city hummed with the familiar vibrancy that soothed her. San Francisco had been alive in a different way, but she preferred Atlanta. This was her city. She’d gone to Emory College here and hadn’t wanted to leave. Still didn’t.
“Mindy, you have a call waiting on line two from Mr. Kryvech.”
Mrs. Sylvester’s tone drew her from the window where she’d been staring at the nightscape of her city. Mindy padded over the thick carpet to her large maple desk. Most of the furniture on the floor was darker, but she loved lighter. My office, my choice.
“Thank you,” she said into the intercom. “Go home. You’re here late.”
“So are you.”
“I have some paperwork to catch up on. No need for both of us to be here. Go home and be with your family.”
“Yes, ma’am. Goodnight.” She was gone then came back. “Your coffee will brew in about twenty minutes.”
Mindy adjusted her headset. “You spoil me, Mrs. Sylvester.”
“Like one of my own. Goodnight.”
Seated in the soft buttery leather seat, she took the call. “This is Ms. Watkins, Mr. Kryvech. How may I be of assistance?”
While she was tired and longed to get home to her apartment, she didn’t mind the work, for it kept her mind off Donal O’Keefe. She squeezed her eyes shut and swung her migrating attention span back to the man calling. An hour, a cup and a half of coffee, and three sheets of doodles later, she hung up the phone. Mr. Kryvech had his needed assurances. Purse on her arm, she walked to the door and stepped out of her office.
“You’re here late.”
“Hi, James,” she said to the night janitor. “Catching up. How are you?”
The man grinned, displaying his crooked front teeth. “Fine, jus’ fine. So kind of you to ask about us.”
She patted him as she passed him by. “Lock up my office, please.”
“Always. Need me to walk you out?”
“I’m sure I’ll be okay, James. Thank you, though. Give your family my best.”
He beamed at her as he held the door. She liked him and always made sure to speak when she saw him. She didn’t see status; she saw people. Always had. Besides, when her parents had ben alive her, father had been a janitor.
Lord, I can’t wait to get home and get these shoes off.
Generally, she downplayed her attire at work, having “comfortable” clothes as well as suits in her office. Today was meetings after meetings so she’d just stayed in the suit. She missed her fuzzy slippers.
Despite her protest, she was escorted to her car by the night guard. “Dangerous out here for a lone woman.”
“Thanks, Robert.” She unlocked her Hyundai and slid behind the wheel. “I appreciate it.”
“James called me. He’s right; you’re so nice with all of us.”
She started the engine. “Y’all are the same to me. Have a great night.” Mindy buckled her belt as he closed the driver’s door. Music filled the interior as she drove to her home. The old school R&B had her singing along with the songs. She enjoyed this time.
Parking in the underground garage, she closed her eyes, for a moment. Her belly growled, reminding her the small salad she had for lunch hadn’t nearly been enough. She yanked her keys free then grabbed her bags. Her steps were the only sounds as she made her way to the elevator.
As the door to her apartment shut behind her, she immediately kicked off her stilettos. “Those things are killers, when are men going to have to wear them instead of us?” She picked them up and headed to her bedroom, where she put them away in their proper spot before stripping and putting her clothes in the hamper. A hot shower, and she returned to the main space, relaxed.
She made some potato and leek soup and a salad that she ate with a glass of wine at her semi-circle table. She got herself a slice of peanut butter silk pie. Back at the table, she ate slowly and enjoyed it. Some days someone just needed pie.
The moment she’d put water in the sink and had just submerged her dishes, a knock came at her door. Shaking off the suds, she wiped her hands off on the dish towel draped over her shoulder.
“Yes?” She realized too late she shouldn’t have opened the door without checking via the peephole.
Tall, dark, and handsome stood there. Donal O’Keefe. A slight scruff covered his jaw, and her fingers instantly itched to touch. She’d missed him more than the wanted to admit.
“You,” she breathed. “What are you doing here?”
“Invite me in.”
“How did you find where I live? And, what happened to your eye?” She didn’t budge. Honestly, she wasn’t sure her legs would cooperate in holding her up.
“Your brother.”
Her brow furrowed. “He told you where I live?”
“After he punched me. Let me in, Mindy.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Please. Don’t shut me out. Let me explain.”
The “please” did it. Hand tightly on the doorknob, she opened wide. He strode by, and she caught the whiff of his intoxicating cologne. Biting back her moan, she prayed to be in control.
“What?” She closed the door behind him. His presence alone shrank her personal space.
“You left.” He ran a hungry gaze over her. “Right after the dance. Our dance. Our only dance.”
Pain reared its head, and she swallowed hard. “The wedding was over.”
He stepped toward her, only to retreat the same amount. “I’m so sorry.”
&nb
sp; Her heart melted at the agony in his tone, but she didn’t display any emotion. She couldn’t. “For what?”
“Everything you had put on you. Can we…” He shoved his hand through her hair. “Can we talk? Christ, I want to kiss you so bad, but I have to do this right.”
Is this what prey feels like?
“Do what right?” And, why was she being hopeful, once more?
“This. Me. You. Us.”
Her heart skipped a few more beats. Some days, it sucked being a romantic. She shifted her weight, and his gaze snapped to her face like popping a rubber band. Mindy froze.
Yes, this is what prey feels like.
She imagined so, for her heart pounded, pulse kicking hard, and a bead of sweat trickled down her spine.
“I have dishes. You really feel the need to talk, come along.” Her place was small, but she still moved with caution. He watched her with predatory intensity and focus.
Her dishwater was warm, and she plunged her hands in, grasping the plate and scrubbing it. Donal didn’t sit; instead, he leaned against the tan countertop to her right. Near the drying rack.
“Why are you handwashing? I see you have a dishwasher.”
“I’m capable of washing by hand.”
He grunted. “I confronted my father, first. Then Mrs. Larkin, along with her husband and Tiffany.”
Tears blurred her vision. “Why are you telling me this?” She furiously blinked them away.
“I need you to know.”
His voice was heated velvet along hyper-sensitive skin. The plate wobbled, and his strong hand enclosed around hers, offering stability. She remained mute as he relieved her of the dish, rinsed it, and placed it in the rack.
“Do you hear me, Mindy?”
“I heard you,” she muttered.
“No, that’s not what I asked.” He gently but firmly turned her toward him. Donal brushed a hand along her cheek, moving some hair behind her ear. “Do you hear me?”
She thought about his words, mulled over them slowly before nodding. “Yes.”
Donal stared in her eyes before those sinfully long lashes lowered, blocking her view of his. The passion in them came close to the taking her legs from her when she was finally able to see them, once more.
“Louder.”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
He claimed her mouth, tongue thrusting by hers. She eagerly ate his moan. Was it cheesy to say she heard angels sing? Perhaps. Regardless, it was true. Digging her fingers into his thick mane, she anchored them together.
His hands slid down to cup her ass, yanking her pelvis to grind against his. Then, he hefted her on the counter. When he dipped his fingers in the waistband of her lounge pants, she whimpered.
I’ll deal with regret later.
Later came to find her lying on her futon couch with Donal’s arms around her. He wore his jeans, and she, his shirt. Rain pounded her windows, washing the city clean. Donal played with her curls, his fingers occasionally teasing her scalp.
“I have to ask. Why here?”
She closed her eyes before yawning. He had draped an arm around her midsection and stroked her belly with distracting caresses.
“What more do I need? I’m one person. I have no desire to live beyond my means.”
“You could have bigger place.”
“We grew up in a one-room shack. When Mom and Dad died, Kurt and I shared a one bedroom. The room he divided with a sheet. We lived frugally. Sure, I make a hell of a lot more, now, but my mind can’t forget that little girl who didn’t have the best of everything.”
“Your brother has top-of-the-line everything. Hell, I drive a Maserati.”
“You grew up with money. To me, if it has four wheels and runs, I’m good. I had a hard time buying my Hyundai. My used Hyundai.”
He pressed a kiss to her ear. “Don’t change, Mindy. I love how you are about things. I am curious about something.”
His fingers were driving her to distraction. “Wh…what’s that?”
“Where’d the love of singing come from? Kurt can’t carry a tune to save his life.”
“I was in choir at school. Fell in love with it. Got a full ride to Emory because of it. Kurt encouraged me to follow my dreams, so I majored in music and business.”
“And Traeger Pharm?”
She smiled slightly. “The owner is my best friend. He and I were in college together.”
“Best friend?”
Mindy scowled. “You don’t even go there. Not when you dumped your girl ten to fifteen minutes then were after me.” She turned to see him squarely. “Exactly. My friend has been in my life for years. Just because you’re in my bed—futon—won’t change that.”
“I like you feisty.” A kiss which sent her body into a tailspin she had no wish to pull out from. “I like you, period.”
She wound her arms around his neck. “I kinda like you, too.” Then, she kissed him.
Chapter Seven
“I need to be very clear, Mr. Larkin. While DKO Gaming is extremely interested in the merger, we need to make one thing perfectly clear.” Donal glanced to his friends and business partners. Both gave a nod of support. “There will be no contingencies that include my marrying your daughter. That isn’t part of this offer. If you require such a stipulation, we can end this, right now, and remain two separate entities.”
Mr. Larkin smoothed a pale hand down his tie. His gaze turned arctic. “Merging with my company would greatly affect what you earn. All of you.”
“With all due respect,” Tim spoke up, tone all president, “we’re not brand new. Not a fledgling company. DKO would add to your stock, as well.”
“Point taken.” Larkin sipped some water. He glanced to Tim and Roland. “The two of you are okay with giving up that extra money? Maybe you should discuss it and get back to me.”
Roland leaned forward. “Nothing further for us to discuss. The decision is made. And, we’re all in agreement.”
Larkin lifted a brow, breaking up his skeptical expression. “You boys sure?”
Donal closed the presentation binder with a low rumble of displeasure. “We grew this company together, the three of us. Here at DKO, we all have a say and never go without a united front. We know this business; we’re all millionaires.” Another look to his friends, and he nodded back at the approval in their eyes. “And, we were fine before you put an offer down. We’ll be fine after. Remember, you approached us. DKO will not be merging with your company.”
The three rose simultaneously.
“We’ll show ourselves out.” Donal tugged on the cuffs of his suit coat, swiped the numbers he’d crunched, and left to Larkin’s look of disbelief.
“You’ll be sorry,” the warning trailed them.
Donal didn’t think so. And, he was going to ensure that.
Outside the elevators in the lower lobby, he stepped up to the pre-staged podium.
“Mr. O’Keefe, is it finally official? That this merger has gone down?”
Tim and Roland moved up beside him.
“No,” he said. “There will be no merger.”
Shouts of why filled the air. To his left, he spied Mr. Larkin buttoning up his coat as he neared.
“Because I refuse to marry his daughter to ensure the merger. I’d dated her, but we had since broken up. However, her father had wanted that to be a stipulation of the merger.”
Silence fell until one reporter asked, “He wanted you to marry her and made that as part of the merger?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” Donal backed away and left while a red-faced Larkin got up to the microphone. One reporter inserted himself between Donal and his partners and the door.
“Yes?” Roland asked.
The reporter barely looked at Roland. “To turn down one such as Tiffany Larkin… Who is she?”
Donal scowled. “Excuse me?”
He was unperturbed by the tone. “Is it the woman who stepped in as a groomsman? The sister to one of the groomsman?” A sly grin l
ifted his lips. “The one who pulled you into the water.”
As if Donal needed the reminder. “Yes.” He put his hands in his pockets. “I’m in love with her.”
His friends looked at him, and the reporter licked his lips as if seeing another headline. “All right, then. Can I quote you on that?”
“Please do.” Donal leaned closer. “Here’s another one. I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
He led the trio out, heading for the car. Tim laughed the moment the door closed behind them. Donal arched a brow at him. “Problem? We should be in a bad mood; the deal isn’t happening.”
“Declaration on the wire. I wonder how well that’s going to play out. And, just when you were getting over the black eye Kurt gave you.”
He fought the urge to touch that eye. Roland started the engine. “Tim’s right; you probably should have asked him first if you could bang and marry his sister.”
Donal flipped him off, then rolled his eyes and waited for them to get back to their business. His friends ribbed him the entire trip back. He didn’t much care; he was focusing on his future. The one he was planning to have with Mindy.
As Roland pulled up to DKO, Donal tossed the binder to Tim.
“My desk.”
Tim arched an eyebrow. “And, you’re giving it to me why?”
“I have something to do.” He climbed out of the vehicle he’d been in. “See you later.” He jogged to his silver Maserati. Moments after he slid behind the wheel, the powerful engine roared to life then he tore out of the garage with a specific destination in mind.
Upon arrival, he got out with a smile. Heading inside, he made his request and waited to have his audience.
“This way, Mr. O’Keefe.”
He pushed to his feet and entered an office he’d not been in for a while.
“Mr. O’Keefe. How can I help you?”
The woman’s welcoming smile was easy to respond to. He stood and offered his hand. “Thank you for seeing me. I was hoping to book your Chalet for a wedding.”
“That’s what we’re here for. Whose wedding and when?”
“For me and the date would be next September. Mid-month.”
Rose pulled up her calendar. “Mid-month?”