I don't respond. Instead, I wish for a time travel machine so I could go back.
"Take care, Emma. We wish you all the best but Lucas has asked me to tell you to leave his house," she says with pity in her tone.
His house...
His home...
His life...
He wants me out of it all.
A sob tears from my chest as I hear her disconnect the call.
And just as simply as that, I know I’m out of his life.
Forever...
ORDER ENTANGLED, THE second book in The Tangled Series HERE
More by the Author:
Series:
Captivated Series
Captivated: Stile Before
Captivated: Stile After
The Tangled Series
Unentangled – Book One
Entangled – Book Two
Entwined – Book Three
Unentwined – Book Four Coming July 28, 2018 Pre Order HERE
Short Story:
One Night Only
Breathe Again
Stand Alone:
Undeniable
Katherine’s Website: https://www.katherineking2001.com/
Book Trailers: http://www.katherineking2001.com/book-trailers.html
SNEAK PEAK! KATHERINE’S Stand -Alone Novel: “Undeniable”
Chapter 1
Mick
You know how they say everything happens for a reason? I am now a true believer.
It brought me to her.
"THIS IS BULLSHIT, JOHN!" I explode before angrily pushing the papers of my new contract back across the desk. My bandmates had already signed their names. The contract was only awaiting my signature, weighing me down with more guilt and frustration.
"Calm down, Mick," my manager, John, replies quietly, avoiding my eyes.
"I am trying to be calm," I squeeze out through clenched teeth. I look at my hands and the vision of wrapping them around his neck and squeezing flows through my mind.
"It is only another year of touring. I was only doing what I had thought was best for the band," he responds trying to pacify me.
One year. Not so very long, but long when you feel stuck, burnt out. When your soul needs a rest, a change.
I need to get out of here, - my mind warns me silently.
Pushing back my chair abruptly, I keep my eyes averted from John as I stand. I can't look at him right now.
"Mick..." I hear him say, his voice now trying to be consoling. "Let's talk about this."
Stepping away from the chair, I head to the door only thinking of escape.
I need to escape.
Grabbing the door handle, I twist it, and yank the door open. I don't bother to say anything else to him as I walk out of the conference room.
I keep my head down, ignoring people as they inquire if I am okay, as I make my way down the hallway to the exit. I am normally very pleasant and accommodating but at this moment I don't have it in me to pretend.
Feeling frustration sliding through me, I push the elevator button and wait impatiently. I clench my jaw as I wait and wait and wait...
Finally, the elevator arrives. I step on and jab my finger on the button to take me to the main floor. I grit my teeth, anger that my future has been decided, once again, by someone else, flooding through me. I step off the elevator and stride quickly out of the building, my anger gaining in intensity, and I continue walking until I reach Central Park. I find an unoccupied bench and sit, propping my forehead in my hands.
The heavy responsibility of my career weighs on me. I am starting to feel trapped. I enjoy my job, there is nothing that I would rather do than be on stage performing, but I wanted to have a final say in my future. Decide on my own how much I toured, to write my own songs, maybe take up an acting career.
I do appreciate what John has done for us. He is the one who brought the boys and I to stardom, but I have given him six years of my life. My entire youth has been dedicated to touring the world, promoting our latest album while recording and producing the next album with no social life outside the band. No opportunity to live somewhat of a normal life. John has made his money back plus quite a substantial bit more, but I no longer wanted him to be directing my life, to be planning the next years of my life. I had been trying to end it on a good note and had told him I wanted out when he produced that signed contract. I could never walk away from the other members of my band, hamper their careers because my personal goals have changed. Despite being pissed, I try to reason myself through the contract, repeating over and over to myself that it is only another year and the contract that I had reviewed was more than reasonable. It would go a long way in helping the entire band with their future career choices.
But I would make it clear to John and the boys that this is my last tour, that I would be leaving the band once this contract has been fulfilled.
Sighing, I reach to take the beanie off my head, but stop myself just short of pulling it off. If I let my hair be seen, my moment of solitude would end. I am not always sure where the paparazzi and fans descend from but as soon as they spot me they flock around me like bees to honey. It’s one of the perks of my career, this fame, but lately it’s feeling more like a burden.
And today, I can't pull off being polite.
Giving another heavy sigh, resigning myself to the fact that I would be back on the road again in a few days to finish this current tour before jumping right into the next one, I lift my eyes to glance around at the occupied benches, silently wishing I could be as carefree as some of these people who are out for a lunch in Central Park on a warm summer day. My eyes stop on a woman that is sitting opposite me, two benches down. She has her long, lean, toned legs crossed as she sits sideways on the bench leaning over what looks to be paperwork. My eyes leisurely travel up her legs to her beige pencil skirt that sits above her knee. My gaze continues up her body, lingers for a moment on her breasts as I see the lace of her bra through the fabric of her white shirt. Lifting my eyes further, I take in the perfectly formed features of her face, her long brown hair pulled back into a severe bun. I wonder for a moment if she is married and let my eyes travel down to her left hand. Seeing no ring, I let a breath out that I didn't realize I was holding.
I stay, watching only her, for several minutes.
Watching as she reaches up to rub her nose.
Watching as she winces and screws up her nose to whatever is persistently making her nose itchy.
I feel myself chuckle inwardly at her cute expression. Without realizing it, my mind wanders to wonder what her skin feels like. It looks so supple and healthy. My mind quickly flashes to imagining running my hands down her toned legs, parting them to lift her skirt.
I feel my cock stir. Surprised, I shift on my bench accommodating my hard-on. I have never been turned on by any female from afar. Not even when John had initiated me into my first vision of a naked female when he took me to a strip club. I had felt nothing but pity for the women on the stage because they felt they had to expose their bodies to make a living.
This woman...she stirs me. All I can picture is her waking up in my t-shirt.
Standing, I take a quick glance around to make sure no one has recognized me before trying to casually walk over to her bench. Focused on her work, she does not look up at me. I feel like a fumbling fool as I stand there waiting for her to acknowledge me.
She doesn't.
Not sure what to do, I glance around quickly again and then sit down next to her on the bench, almost sitting on whatever papers has her so enraptured.
Startled, she looks up questioningly. She holds my gaze for a moment, long enough that I see that her eyes are a beautiful sky blue. I fleetingly wonder what those eyes look like when she is aroused.
I am going to make it my mission to find out.
She breaks our gaze and I watch her as she quickly looks around, notices several benches are available and then looks back to me questioningly.
"Mick," I state quickly,
holding out my hand. It quivers a little at first but then I force it to remain still.
She cautiously evaluates me, holding my gaze steadily, then drops her stare to my hand before bringing her gaze back to mine, making her decision to ignore my hand. Feeling awkward, I drop it back to my side.
She leans forward to collect her papers saying, "Sorry. I didn't realize this was your bench." I pick up on the hint of annoyance in her voice.
My heart skips a beat. She has no idea who I am. How lucky can I be after the day I have had?
"It's not my bench," I say quickly, not wanting her to leave. "You don't have to leave."
She stops gathering her papers to look up at me, "Please don't tell me you are trying to pick me up because I am not interested."
Grinning now at her reaction, I say, "Well, I had intended to introduce myself before trying to pick you up but you have neglected to give me your name."
I feel my body stiffen as her glance runs over me. I oddly feel myself saying a silent prayer that she likes what she sees. I have never had to worry about whether a woman liked what she saw in me. Women love rock stars.
Saying nothing, she leans forward again to collect her papers and stands, her actions silently dismissing me.
My hand reaches out quickly to grasp her wrist. I hear her gasp as my fingers wrap fully around her wrist. I know I am being very forward but I can't let her leave. I feel a pull towards her that I want to explore, like I am falling through the stars. For this reason, I don't let her go.
"I'm sorry," I murmur quickly to try to soothe her. "I only wanted to introduce myself. I didn't mean to scare you."
She glances down at her wrist still grasped in my hand. I forcefully unwind my fingers to allow her wrist to drop.
She steps away from me as I stand, still clutching her papers close as if it is a shield.
"I have to get back to work," she says as she leans down to grab her purse from the bench where she had left it when she had stood to get away from me. I have never had a woman run away from me before. I am at a loss of what to do as panic seeps through me.
"Please..." I murmur pleading. "I only wanted to introduce myself. I have no pickup line ready." For the first time in my life I feel like a floundering school boy.
She pauses a moment before replying firmly, "I really have to get to work."
"Can I walk you back?" I ask her quickly.
She shakes her head, backing away from me, saying, "I don't think so."
Not giving up, I persist, "Can I have your number?"
She bursts out laughing and shaking her head she walks back to me, causing my hopes to rise before she looks up in my face to ask, "You don't give up, do you?"
Smiling down at her, wanting to wrap my arms around her, I respond lightly, "I’m not one to give up."
Her smile widens as she says, "So...let me get this right. You invade my personal space by sitting, uninvited, on a bench I was occupying, grab my wrist uninvited, then expect me to let you walk me back to my office. And although I have repeatedly tried to distance myself politely, you still expect me to give you my number even though you are dressed like you are about to rob a bank." Her laugh tingles through me as she adds, "I can't even see your eyes."
I can't help but chuckle at her description of me as a bank robber.
"If I take off my glasses will you give me your number?" I grin at her.
She continues to smile back at me as she says teasingly, "Take them off and we will see."
Glancing around quickly before bringing my eyes back to her, I reach up to remove my sunglasses, praying no one will recognize me but her.
I watch her eyes as she scans my face. I momentarily see her pupils dilate when her eyes connect with mine. My heart skips a beat.
"So, what do you think? Still a bank robber?" I ask quietly.
Breaking our eye contact, she steps away from me and I want to reach for her again, but I know if I do, my chances of seeing her again will diminish.
She shakes her head, the smile now gone from her face, saying softly, "Sorry, but I have to get back to work."
"What about your number?" I ask as my stomach flops. I feel desperation.
She grins again saying, "I don't give my number to strangers." Turning away from me, with those damn papers in the envious position of resting against her breasts, she throws back over her shoulder, "But you can meet me here tomorrow at noon for lunch."
With that she continues walking away from me.
Shit. I have a meeting tomorrow at that time. I call out to her that I can't make it but she either ignores me or doesn't hear me.
A few people glance my way at the sound of my voice. I quickly put my sunglasses back on and sit down on the bench. The disappointment sliding through me is unexpected.
CHAPTER 2
Maggie
What was that? - I mutter to myself as I stroll away from this Mick guy.
He appeared out of nowhere to sit by me, but yet as soon as he sat, my senses were on high alert. Not that I was afraid of him. Quite the opposite. All I experienced was a weirdly, indescribable, immediate attraction.
I have always been attracted to confident men. It made them sexier than any physical attribute, and this guy had both. The problem is I haven't met a male that possesses both that hasn't turned out to be an asshole.
I hear him call after me that he can't make it tomorrow but I don't pause to answer him. It is probably just as well that he can't make it. If he was really interested, nothing would keep him away.
Sighing, I continue my short walk back to my office where I work as an advertising executive. I enjoy my job in advertising. Meeting so many people is the best part but the work is fun, challenging and very creative. I plan to absorb whatever knowledge and experience they can give me to become a partner in the firm at some point in my career.
My love life is another matter. Losing my virginity to the high school jock who only cared about his orgasm plus the two other boyfriends that followed him, made me weary of any serious relationships. The boyfriend after the jock had cheated on me and the next one was so needy and possessive that I swore off steady boyfriends. Except for a casual, very sporadically, one night stand here and there, I have been single, and happily so, since college. That guy, Mick, from the park was probably only looking for a one night stand, not that I would have objected to that, but it was probably more energy than it was worth to hook up with him. Sometimes if the sex was great, it was hard getting rid of them afterwards.
Pulling the door open to my office building I take the elevator to my floor. Slipping behind my desk, I push the encounter in the park from my mind and get back to work. At 7pm, I push back from my desk and rub my eyes, sighing deeply. Perhaps I should have given Mick my number.
At least I would have had an interesting evening ahead of me, - I silently mock.
Standing, I grab my purse and lock up my office. Waving to the janitor, Luke, on the way out I head towards the subway.
Reaching my condo, I swing open the door and head to my bedroom. I grab my workout gear, change quickly before heading down to the onsite gym. I work out for an hour before heading back to my condo for a quick dinner in front of the TV while sipping on a glass of Burgundy. Feeling myself relax a little, I decide to run a bath instead of grabbing my usual shower.
Settling myself into the bath with my wine in hand, my mind, unplanned, flashes back to the guy in the park. When he had taken off his sunglasses I had been unprepared for the immediate flush of desire that raced through me at seeing his beautiful, intense green eyes.
I silently acknowledge that I am slightly disappointed that I won't see him again. I have never had that reaction to any man before. It would have been interesting to explore.
Even if only casually.
Taking a sip of wine, I rest my head back against the tub, allowing my mind to replay the features of his face. He was handsome. There was no doubt. The strong jaw line, the green eyes that seemed to sear into me, lips
that made me want to reach out and pull him to me to taste him.
The cross tattoo on his hand had not slipped by me. I was never one for tattoos but this small tattoo was strangely erotic. Edgy. My mind flashes to imagining watching him as he slipped that hand between my thighs.
My eyes pop open feeling the heat between my inner thighs intensify.
Standing up abruptly to end my erotic visions, I decide to dry myself off and head to bed to read a bit.
Crawling into my freshly laundered bed with a book in hand, I try to keep my mind on what I am reading. But his green eyes keep flashing in front of me. After an hour, I give up and turn off the bedside light.
Settling into my bed, I feel myself slowly slide into sleep. His green eyes flash through my sleep induced brain throughout the night, invading my thoughts and my dreams play out what it would be like to be with him.
My mind envisions his hand with the cross tattoo, sliding over my inner thigh, up over my belly, continuing until he cupped my breast.
Another dream has him flipping me on my back, my legs clasped tight around his waist as he grinds into me.
By the time I wake in the morning, I have never been more aroused and I am angry that I never had a chance to finish the dream I had of unbuttoning his shirt, satisfying my curiosity if he had more tattoos hidden underneath.
With the last dream fresh in my mind, I crawl out of bed and try to concentrate on getting ready for work.
The morning crawls by with my dreams from the previous night constantly returning, hovering in the back of my mind. I have to admit, I am curious what it would be like to be with him.
As noon hits, with anxiety pumping through me, I grab my homemade sandwich and paperwork to head to the park. I silently concede how disappointed I am that I didn't respond when he called out that he was unavailable today for lunch. I have a feeling he would be great in bed.
Sitting in the same area as yesterday, I lay my paperwork and purse next to me as I open the container my sandwich is in. I see a shadow fall over me and I glance up, meeting green eyes.
Unentangled Page 18