by Emerson Rose
“Top of the line, nothing better,” he says, and I’m reminded of the arrogant Xander that turned me off in the emergency room after my accident. I keep my mouth shut and continue to look around.
“So, you play all those instruments?”
“Yes.”
“Do you sing?”
“Yes.”
“Will you sing for me?” I ask and regret the words and the flirtatious way I delivered them immediately.
“Maybe sometime. I’m going to go lay her down and have a look around. Make yourself at home.”
Our eyes lock, and I have the urge to close the distance between us and kiss his mouth. And the crazy thing is I swear he’s reading my mind. I drop my gaze to the floor, and when I look up, they are gone. Releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I walk to the glass wall and look out over the ocean. I’ve always loved the ocean, it’s part of the reason I moved to California. The other part tried to kill me in his car two weeks ago.
“It’s soothing, isn’t it?” Xander says yanking me from my reality and making me jump. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay, lost in thought, I guess.” I smile and slip my hands into the pockets in my sundress.
“Not having second thoughts, I hope.”
“Oh, no, not at all. I’m not stupid… this is a great opportunity. I appreciate you helping me…” He steps closer and without warning, his mouth is on mine silencing my nervous chattering.
His tongue slides along my bottom lip asking for entrance. I give it to him willingly without a thought. His hand slides around my neck, and he deepens the kiss making my toes curl inside my sandals.
I step in closer and press my front to his chest threading my fingers through his hair with one hand and resting the other over his pounding heart. He is just as affected by our kiss as I am. I wasn’t imagining the attraction, the chemistry, the road to pain, and ultimately disappointment.
I pull away suddenly and step back. “We shouldn’t,” I whisper. “It’s not professional.”
He reaches out, and I take another step back. “Why does it have to be professional? Why can’t I kiss the beautiful woman who just so happens to be taking care of my daughter?”
I don’t know what to tell him. I mean, I guess I could say because I’m prone to falling in love and becoming very attached. Or I could explain that I have a psycho ex-husband who can’t stand to see me with anyone but him even though he doesn’t want me for himself, thank God. Or how about the fact that I already think I love his daughter after spending an afternoon with her because she reminds me of what I lost when I lost my child a year ago.
No, none of that is appropriate, and all of it would have him calling an Uber so fast it would make my head spin. Then where would I be? Back in my apartment that I can’t afford with no job and no car, that’s where. I need this job. It’s the difference between me living in a homeless shelter and having enough money to comfortably live on for six months.
“I don’t know you, Xander. I mean, you’re my doctor, but I don’t know you like that.”
“Sweetheart, this is how people get to know each other like that,” he says pulling me against him again. God, I know this is wrong, and I should push him away again, but he smells so good, and he’s so strong and masculine and powerful and successful and…
I took too long, his mouth is on mine again. The kiss is softer this time, not as insistent or desperate. Little does he know that’s a much bigger turn on for me than the passionate over-the-top kiss he started with.
I’m gone, lost in his soft touch, dizzy with the feel of his hands roaming over my bare back and down to my ass where the thin material of my dress feels like nothing between us. A moan escapes my lips when he moves the kiss to my neck and down, down between my breasts. His hands cup my ass lifting me off the ground pressing his solid cock against my core. I gasp when I feel the cold of the glass wall against my back and his hands sliding up my thighs. God, it’s been so long since someone has touched me this way, with tenderness and generosity, giving, pleasuring, worshiping.
“Daddy!” Victoria screams from somewhere far away, and Xander and I freeze. He stops kissing my shoulder and lowers me to the floor.
“Nightmares. I’m sorry, I’ll be back in a minute.” He kisses me quickly, and I watch his sexy backside walk toward a winding staircase that leads to the second floor where I assume their bedrooms are located.
Adjusting my dress back into place, I look around for the closest bathroom. A door off the kitchen catches my eye, and I make my way to it smoothing my hair as I go.
Inside is a full bathroom with a long vanity and mirror that tells the story of the last fifteen minutes with pinpoint accuracy—mascara smeared under my eyes, lip gloss gone, hair disheveled, dress wrinkled, and pride bruised along with my face.
I almost had sex with a man I hardly know. I almost had sex with my boss. I almost had sex with the father of the child I have promised to care for like she’s my own. If Enrique could see me now, he would call me a slut, whore, loser, pathetic, needy, and simple. He was good at controlling me with words and even better at doing it with his fists.
Tears fill my eyes, and I snatch three tissues from the box on the vanity and catch them before they run down my cheeks. I cannot let that man control me now. He is not part of my life anymore. I’m free.
Or am I?
Even here in the privacy of a very handsome, very wealthy man’s home, far away from Enrique and his abusive hands and mouth, he is messing with my head.
There’s a knock at the door. “Sasha? You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine just fixing my hair. I’ll be right out.”
“Okay, hurry, we need to order the pizza.”
“One minute.” I’m pretty sure that’s code for Victoria’s awake, make-out session is over, and that’s fine with me. I need to talk to Xander and tell him I am not comfortable having a relationship while I’m working for him, and I need to do it soon.
I smooth my hair away from my face and over my shoulder so I can put it into a tidy respectable braid. I look at myself in the mirror again and wipe the mascara smudges from my eyes. “There. Good as new,” I say to myself and open the bathroom door.
Victoria is sitting on a bar stool at the island looking a lot like I did a few minutes ago but for totally different reasons. She’s teary-eyed, flushed, and sad. Nightmares, yeah, I know a thing or two about those.
“Hey there, you had a little nap?”
“The scary men came in my sleep. I don’t like them, they make me cry.”
I sit next to her and slide my hand across the marble counter covering hers with mine. “I’m sorry you had a bad dream. I have them sometimes, too. They feel so real you can’t tell if you’re awake or asleep.”
She sits up straight looking at our hands. “You have them, too?” I look at Xander, he’s on the phone by the glass wall ordering pizza, but he’s also listening to our conversation. He pauses his conversation and nods letting me know it’s okay to talk about bad dreams with his daughter.
“I do.”
“With bad men?”
“Just one bad man.”
“What does he do?”
Oh my God. I can’t tell her what goes on in my nightmares, or she’ll never sleep again. “Well, sometimes he just looks scary, and sometimes he yells at me. What do your bad men do?”
She pulls her knees up and hugs them with her arms abandoning my hand for this secure position. I move my hand to her back and rub it up and down, so she knows I’m here for her even if she tries to leave. I know from experience that it helps to know somebody, anybody, cares enough to stay.
“They take me to her.”
I wasn’t expecting that. Maybe she means her mom? “Your mom?”
She nods her head, and tears spring from her eyes. Shit, what did she do to her? Suddenly, all I want is to find that bitch, rip her hair out, and stick my fingers in her eye sockets until she screams.
; “Come here, baby,” I say, and that’s all it takes. She’s on my lap straddling my waist crying into the crook of my neck. Oh boy. I thought I knew what I was doing, but now I’m not so sure.
I rub her back and let her cry until Xander joins us. His face is twisted in pain giving me a glimpse into a tortured parent’s world. He loves her so much, and it kills him to see her hurting.
I am way out of my league here. I was struggling to comfort a child, but I have no idea how to help them both at the same time, especially since I only know a handful of random facts about either of them.
“Princess, are you gonna be okay?” he asks bending down to push her hair away from her face. Her sobs subside, and she reaches out to wipe a tear from her father’s cheek.
“Don’t cry, my daddy.”
“Baby, you know I hate seeing you so sad. Let’s sit outside and listen to the ocean. That always makes you feel better, doesn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay, come on.” He holds out his arms, and she starts to lean toward him but stops to look at me first.
“You come, too, kay?”
“Okay.” Xander lifts her up, and we go out onto a patio that wraps around the back and one side of the house. It’s so beautiful out here, I could stay forever. A swimming pool is situated along the side of the house, and the rest of the patio faces the ocean with steps that take you to the beach.
I walk to the railing and inhale a deep breath and close my eyes. I love the salty air and the wind and the sound of waves lapping against the shore. “You like the ocean?” Xander asks sitting down on a lounger still holding Victoria.
“I do, it’s my favorite thing in the world.”
“Do you surf or snorkel?”
“Yes, both. I love being in the water.”
“I have a boat, do you like fishing?”
“I’ve never been fishing in the ocean, but I used to fish back home in a lake, and I liked that.”
“You’re not from California?”
“No,” I say, and he stares at me waiting for more of an explanation.
“Is it a secret? Where you’re from?”
“Oh, no, not really. Minneapolis.”
“You’re a long way from home. Did you come here to go to school?”
“No. I never went to college, no money, ya know? I came for the ocean.” That’s not the only reason, but it’s the nicest one.
“You picked up and moved to California alone because you love the ocean?”
“I love the ocean, too,” Victoria interjects.
“Would you move a long way to be near it?” I ask her.
“Uh-huh,” she says nodding her head vigorously.
I gesture toward her. “I rest my case.”
“And you got a job with Macy’s right away?” he asks. He did a full background check on me this afternoon. Either he hasn’t had time to read it, and someone told him I was safe, or he wants to see if what I say matches up.
“Not right away. I stayed with friends for a while.” Another lie.
I turn away from him not wanting to get into that part of my life in front of Victoria. “Daddy, can we show Sasha the beach?”
“Sure, good idea. Are you interested in a walk on the beach?” he asks.
“Yes, I’d love a walk on the beach.”
I’d do anything to get off of this patio and stop talking about my life right now. It just so happens that he’s offering me my favorite thing in the world—the ocean.
Sometimes the ocean is life’s best distraction.
10
Xander
It’s a perfect night for a walk. The breeze is warm, the beach is deserted, and the waves are calm. The ocean is the only thing that calms Tori after one of her nightmares. The closer to the water she is, the more she forgets about the bad men and the woman who took her. That’s why I built her this house right on the water.
Sasha seems to thrive in the presence of the ocean as well. She’s more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her skipping along the water’s edge laughing with Tori.
Tori. She doesn’t call her that, I wonder why. She purposely calls her by her given name every time she speaks to her. She hasn’t slipped up once. Maybe she has a relative named Tori that she doesn’t like? Or an old friend? I’ll find out later when I read the background report I have in my briefcase. I didn’t have time to read through it today, but my investigator assured me she has no skeletons in her closet that would affect Tori or me. Calvin has been my head of security since the kidnapping, and I trust him explicitly. He saw what that did to Tori, and I know he would never allow her to be in harm’s way again.
Sasha gasps and yells down the beach to me. “What about the pizza?”
She must be hungry. “They’ll text when they’re here, don’t worry.”
“I don’t want the delivery person to spit in our food because we weren’t home.”
“I tip well. He would happily sit all night if I asked him to,” I say catching up to her. She and Tori have stopped and are squatting down looking at a piece of sand glass.
Sasha rolls her eyes when she looks up. “I’m sure you do.”
“What? Am I supposed to be a dick and not tip him?” I don’t get this woman.
“No, but you don’t have to brag about being a great tipper. In fact, you don’t have to brag about a lot of things like what a great surgeon you are or how handsome you are.”
“I’ve never bragged about how handsome I am. Although, I am pretty good looking if I do say so myself.”
She pops up off the ground and points her finger at me. “Ha! I knew you couldn’t resist the urge to brag if I gave it to you.”
“What’s brag?” Tori asks.
“It’s when someone speaks highly of themselves,” I say.
“Is it bad?” she asks looking back and forth between us sensing conflict in the air.
“Not always, sometimes it’s nice to be humble and modest, though, and keep those kinds of things to yourself instead.”
“Why?” she asks innocently.
“Yeah, why?” I ask just to irritate her.
“Because it makes you look like a jackass.”
I shouldn’t smile. I should be offended and appalled at her choice of words in front of a five-year-old, but I’m not. I smile, and Tori’s expression is one of confusion. She knows about swearing, she knows I don’t do it unless I’m angry, and she knows she should never do it. Yet, here I am on the verge of laughter.
“You said a naughty word,” she says to Sasha.
“I did?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why is it naughty?”
Tori looks to me for an answer. “We just don’t say it, that’s all.”
“That doesn’t make much sense, you must have a reason.”
“It’s not nice,” Tori says, coming up with her answer and looking proud of herself for it.
“Jack is a name, and ass is a part of your body. I don’t think Jack is a bad sounding name personally, and we all have an ass.”
“It’s a swear word, and she’s not allowed to say it in public where someone might hear her. If you’d like to say ass at home, Tori, that’s all right. Just don’t make it a habit.”
“I don’t believe in swear words,” Sasha says, and Tori’s eyes go wide. Nobody disagrees with her daddy, and she knows it.
“The rest of the world does, so we don’t say them if we can help it.”
“Well, I think that’s stupid. What makes a word a curse word anyway? It’s a word like every other word. Nothing different happens when you say shit instead of poop, or bitch instead of nasty person. If you give power to those words, they become powerful. If you use them like every other word, no one will think twice when you say fucker in public.”
“Okay, that’s enough. You will not say that in public, Tori. Understand?”
She nods her head looking horrified, and Sasha shrugs as if I were the crazy one here. My phone vibrates in my pocket. Thank God, saved by the
bell.
“Pizza’s here, we better head back.”
“Yay, pizza! I’m hungry!” Tori squeals and runs down the beach her eyes darting back and forth making sure no one else is around. She stops to wait for us at the base of the stairs unwilling to go any further alone.
“Sorry about the swearing thing. I just think it’s dumb.”
“It’s okay, I get where you’re coming from as an adult, but as a parent of a five-year-old, I have to conform to society somewhat. She’s going to be in kindergarten this fall, and I can’t have her cursing like a sailor in school.”
She doesn’t respond. We catch up with Tori and climb the stairs back to the house as Tori heads straight to the island to take a seat. She won’t go near the front door when she doesn’t know the person on the other side.
“I’ll be right back. Hey, bug, why don’t you show Sasha where the plates and cups are.”
“Okay, Daddy.” She hops off the stool, and Sasha joins her while I head upstairs. When I get back, they are all set to eat.
“Find everything? Feel free to snoop around all you want.”
“Yep, plates, cups, milk, and I grabbed you a beer, is that okay?”
“Yeah, great, grab yourself one, too, if you want.”
“I don’t drink, but thank you.” She doesn’t drink? Not even a beer? I don’t remember Calvin saying anything about her being an alcoholic because that would be a problem.
“I don’t have a problem with it or anything if you’re worried. I choose not to drink for personal reasons.”
“Good to know, and yes, I was wondering.”
“Thought so.”
“You did, did you?” I say twisting the cap off my beer.
“You get this little pucker right here…” She points between her eyes, “… when you think hard about something.”
I reach up and touch the groove between my eyes that I could easily fix with a simple injection of Botox but choose not to. “Here?”
“Yep.” She opens the pizza box and hands a slice to Tori.
“That’s pretty observant for only knowing me a few hours.”
“Technically I’ve known you for a little over two weeks, and I noticed it the night you stitched up my face.”