What the Heart Needs

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What the Heart Needs Page 8

by Jessica Gadziala


  Hannah fought the urge to laugh until she heard Elliott let out a short, low chuckle and then it rushed out of her like a teenaged girl’s fit of giggles. Elliott smiled down at her for a second, reaching out to his side and grabbing a white wine glass. He handed it to her, still smiling slightly. “Excuse me,” he said, following Dan over to her father who was looking at him expectantly.

  “Well she’s an absolute delight,” Hannah said, taking a sip from her glass.

  “Oh baby doll… you have no idea,” James touched her hand gently. “Listen, Hannah…”

  Hannah held up her hand to stop him. “I was childish. And while I stand by the fact that you were being an ass… I am just in a surly mood and I took it out on you.”

  James sighed, suddenly turning and lowering his forehead to rest on hers. “I really like you Hannah,” he said, pulling away and looking at her with a look much more serious than she had ever seen on him before. “I know you think I’m just picking at you, but I’m genuinely trying to be helpful. Trust me, I know my brother. And I know that if there was a physical depiction of the mental image he holds of the perfect woman… you would be it. You can deny it all you want, but he wants you. And while he might be on his best behavior right now, trust me, some day that will change. I want you to know because I want you to be prepared because no woman has ever lasted longer than a few weeks in Elliott’s life.”

  Hannah couldn’t wrap her head around the conversation. On one hand, her own personal insecurity weighed in and reminded her that she was usually never much to look at- that men had easily avoided paying her attention for a great many years and there was no evidence to suggest she was in any way wrong. But there had been moments. In her office, when he caught her… his hand on her back. She felt a shiver run down her spine.

  “How long do women typically last in your life?” she countered with a smile, hoping to try to steer the conversation off of her.

  “Touché,” he smiled a little. “but this isn’t about me. This is about you. I really hate to see you get hurt. And I would hate it even more if you were suddenly gone from EM and I couldn’t see you around anymore,” He held a finger up to someone who was waving him over from across the room. “I just wanted to plant the idea in your head, love. Do with it what you will. You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure things out. Now if you’ll excuse me, those people over there think you’ve monopolized my fabulous company for far too long.” He smiled and walked away.

  Hannah walked toward the sitting room, placing her now-empty wine glass on an empty tray a server lowered toward her. Thanks to impossible amount of liquor that was being consumed, people had finally found courage to create a dance floor. The band was in the middle of an up-beat oldie but goody and couples and even singles were laughing and spinning around happily.

  She had done this, she realized with a smile. This was her doing. The band, the music selection, the food, even the booze. She had made this happen and made these people have an enjoyable atmosphere. Pride like she hadn’t felt in a long time welled up inside her and she swayed a little.

  Suddenly a wine glass was lowered toward her face from behind her. She reached for it dumbly, expecting a smart quip from James to follow. “What are you doing standing here all by your lonesome?” came an unfamiliar voice, instead.

  Hannah turned to find a man standing there. He looked somewhere into his late middle-age and had salt-and-pepper hair and deep brown eyes. “There’s that pretty face,” he said with a smile that turned her stomach.

  She silently wished James hadn’t been right about this particular, seemingly inevitable, part of her evening. There wasn’t much she could do to properly excuse herself from this man’s attentions. And her supposed savior was nowhere in sight.

  “So what’s your name, gorgeous?” he asked, and she detected a southern drawl.

  “I’m Hannah,” she answered, glancing past him.

  “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he responded, touching her arm.

  She felt her skin crawl and he didn’t remove his hand, instead it sat there, heavy and clammy and feeling like an invasion.

  “So what is a pretty thing like you doing here?”

  His fingers started running up and down her arm and she cringed at the dread-like feeling welling up inside her belly. She drank her wine in a long sip and hoped it would help her deal with this more diplomatically than she felt she currently could. “I’m an associate of Elliott and James,” she answered for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

  “I see. Well, I am in construction,” he said in a way that suggested she should be impressed. “But let’s not talk about business. This event here is supposed to be for pleasure. I am very interested in pleasure. Maybe you can find a way to show me some pleasure. From the looks of you, you were built for it.”

  Oh, god. Hannah felt trapped. In any other situation, she would have attacked him with a smart comeback, slapped him, walked away… anything other than stand there and have a man old enough to be her father rake his hands over her skin and look at her as if she were a piece of meat. But she couldn’t insult him; who knew how important he might be to the company. And she couldn’t slap him or walk away either. It was the most uncomfortable sensation she had ever experienced and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

  “Bob,” came a voice behind her and she nearly fell against him. Elliott. He stood behind her, just slightly to her side so he could look at Bob directly.

  She looked up with him, feeling suddenly, foolishly, incredibly emotional. She knew tears swam in her eyes and she fought them but then Elliott looked down at her and saw. Something in his expression changed. Where before he had seemed curious, he looked for a second softly at her, almost worried. Then that was quickly replaced by a quiet anger.

  “Elliott,” Bob answered, suddenly releasing her arm and it fell limply to her side. “I was just getting to know your little associate here,” he said with a mischievous smile and had the audacity to wink at her.

  “Yes, well if you’ll excuse us,” Elliott said, his hand reaching for hers. He took her empty wine glass and thrust it at Bob who snatched it, confused.

  She followed, slightly pulled by him to the dance floor. The music had just turned to a slow song and Elliott pulled her close, one hand resting on her hip, the other holding her arm outward, clasping it with his.

  It took her a second to realize what had just happened. He was going to dance with her. She had only ever slow-danced once before at her high school prom with her boyfriend Sam who had both his hands on her hips and she had her hands around his neck and they swayed awkwardly to the music. This was different. This was actual slow dancing. She had no idea what to do.

  Elliott didn’t say anything, firmly placing pressure on her hip and keeping their arms stiff so he could lead her easily around.

  Hannah moved where she felt he was pushing her, keeping her eyes firmly on his tie.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, quietly, almost in her ear. She nodded, not caring to look up when she knew there was definitely still a few of tears spilling over. Silently, she blamed the wine. She knew better to drink when she was already in a bad mood. She always got upset. Elliott sighed. “Look at me, Hannah,” he demanded softly.

  At her name, her head snapped up. She still wasn’t used to hearing it from his lips. “I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile that, unfortunately, made the corners of her eyes crinkle and a tear fall quickly down her left cheek.

  “Don’t,” he asked in a voice that almost sounded helpless to her. But this was Elliott Michaels. There wasn’t a helpless bone in his body. “Please don’t cry.”

  Before Hannah could say anything, Elliott was tapped on the shoulder by a very determined-looking Dan. “Can I cut in?” she asked, pulling Elliott’s hand toward her.

  It happened so fast, she could barely process it. One second, Elliott was dancing with her, the next, he was physically pulled away. She stood there, loo
king at Elliott’s back, held pin-straight and she could see from Dan’s face that they were arguing heatedly, but quietly.

  “May I?” James asked, coming up behind her and turning her toward him. He took one look at her face and pulled her against him, her chest buried into his neck with one arm around her back and the other placed on her upper arm. “Hold on there, gorgeous. I’m gonna dance us right out of this room.” He felt her stiffen at his words and chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry. If there is anyone who could get away with this, its me.”

  And he was right. One moment, they were right in front of the band and the next they were in the second seating room which was still abandoned but for two servers trying to sneak a break. They quickly scurried away when they spotted the odd pair.

  James lowered her into the recliner, perching himself on the arm of it, their bodies touching from head to feet. She kept her eyes closed against the curious expression she was sure she would find.

  After a few moments, James was unable to keep the silence. “Did he step on your toes?” he asked and a hysterical laughed escaped her. He laughed too and patted her knee. “I always suspected he was a terrible dancer but I never thought he would reduce his dance partner to tears.”

  “Hush,” Hannah giggled, slapping him across his stomach.

  “What happened, love?”

  Hannah looked up at him and shrugged. “I shouldn’t be here. I’ve been an outsider since everyone arrived. And I should have known better than to drink.”

  “Let me try again,” James said, patiently. “What happened?”

  She sighed, knowing there was no way she was going to get away with having broken out the water works and not have to explain herself. “You didn’t save me,” she said simply.

  James’ eyes immediately sank. “What? Who? What happened?” His body was taut as a bow and he looked ready to spring into action if he felt he needed to.

  Hannah placed a calm hand on his. “It really wasn’t that big of a deal. I’m just over-wrought today and I overreacted.”

  “To what?” James prodded.

  “Some guy came up to me and was touching me and asking me how I could go about pleasuring him.”

  James let out a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a growl. “Who? Who said that?”

  “It doesn’t matter, James.”

  “It matters to me. Who?”

  She sighed a little. “Bob. Bob who is in construction.”

  James hopped off the chair, letting out a string of curses at Bob’s character. Apparently he was all talk and no nothing to show for it and everyone knew he was a slime bucket who just happened to have been lucky enough to inherit and nice chunk of money. James stopped pacing, turned to a shocked Hannah, and his anger immediately deflated.

  James’s lip quirked up at one end. “Shall I challenge him to a duel, milady?” he asked, pulling and imaginary sword from his belt and holding it up in the air.

  Hannah giggled, marveling at his ability to jump from one mood to another so effortlessly. She wondered how it was that he was still single. Was it by choice? Was he still in the phase of “sowing his wild oats”? Or did his silly arrogance and lackadaisical work ethic turn off the more serious women of his age? He was certainly good looking enough to get any girl he wanted, not to mention charming. She could think of ten women who would love to jump into bed with someone like him.

  James raised an eyebrow at her. “Thinking about me naked?” he asked with a smirk.

  Hannah’s eyes shot comically open and her cheeks blushed to her hairline. “I was wondering why you were single,” she covered.

  “Oh, oh sureee you were,” James laughed.

  “Scouts honor,” Hannah sobered.

  James shrugged and Hannah felt she had overstepped a line.

  “Want me to drive you home?” he asked, suddenly.

  “I… um…” she looked at the clock and realized it was already after midnight. “Yeah. I would really appreciate it. I’ll get a cab to bring me here to get my car in the morning.”

  James went about gathering her belongings and ushered her out the door through the kitchen so they “didn’t start a scandal”.

  He looked over at her snort, “Listen, it’s fine if we want to have an illicit affair, but we cant have it getting around. I have a reputation to defend.” He looked over, fluttering his eyelashes innocently at her.

  She laughed and ran behind him as he raced across the lawn. She knew right then that there would never be anything but a goofy comradely between them. And while there may have been a strong initial attraction for both of them… they had too much fun with each other’s company to want to ruin it in any way.

  He drove her home and made sure she was safely behind her front door before driving off, back in the direction they came in. Back, she assumed, to the party.

  --

  Elliott could barely keep his mind on the conversation going on around him. He never should have told her to attend. She looked nothing but uncomfortable all evening. It never occurred to him that she might be shy. In the office, she conversed easily with all the floor staff, his associates, and even the cleaning staff. Maybe she was able to turn on an outgoing personality for work, but in her personal life she didn’t have the same ability.

  He watched her circulate the rooms, stopping occasionally to engage in conversations with random guests. She looked utterly charming, but once people realized she wasn’t of value to them, they quickly moved on. She had taken her plate and disappeared to his den. A moment later, James followed her in with a frown.

  When Hannah came storming out, anger clearly plastered on her face, he had already started toward her. Then when James was there grabbing her in an aggressive manner… it was all he could do to keep his voice below a shout. James was never someone to put his hands on women and he couldn’t quite accept that he was doing it to her.

  And he knew that she lied about a misunderstanding. There was something adorably endearing about how poorly she lied. But there was a pleading on her face as if asking him to let the matter go. So he did.

  When he saw her with Bob Tanner for more than a moment or two, his curiosity got peaked and he started over. It wasn’t until he got close that he noticed that Bob had his hands on her and she was holding her body pin straight, leaning away from him. When he joined them, and she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, he fought the urge to play the hero. He chose to sweep her away to the dance floor so she could regain herself and he didn’t create a scene.

  He had just gotten used to her soft body in his arms. He felt her curves pressing against him as he guided her across the floor.

  When Dan interrupted, he felt a moment of genuine disappointment, not to mention anger at having to spend another moment in Dan’s company. She had already been demanding of him all evening.

  He was glad to see James sweep in and get her out of the room in a fashion he never could have pulled off.

  “Where’s Hannah?” he asked an hour later when he saw James come back into the room.

  “I took her home,” James said, holding a new glass of scotch. He looked over Elliott’s shoulder at Bob Tanner. “Do you know he went up to her and was asking her how she would pleasure him?”

  Elliott’s breath hissed out of him and he turned from his brother and walked over to Bob. “I need you to leave,” he said simply. At Bob’s outraged expression, he took his arm and led him toward the door. “When you are in my house, I expect to conduct yourself like a gentlemen. As that was not the case this evening. Get out of my house.” The firmness in his voice allowed for no argument and Bob walked out the front door.

  “For her,” Dan’s voiced asked behind him. “Really, Elliott? I expected better from you.”

  Elliott took another drink and wondered what the hell had gotten into him.

  Seven

  Hannah woke up late Saturday morning still wearing her dress from the night before. Her head hurt a
nd she made a mental note that she needed to increase her tolerance to alcohol so she could avoid a hangover from only three drinks.

  Though to be honest, she had never possessed a strong tolerance. The first time she had gotten absolutely silly, cant-see-straight drunk in high school she had only had two beers. And college had been mostly late night studying and coffee dates with friends with only a party every month or two.

  She walked over to the window to close the curtain, when something on her street caught her eye. Her car. Maybe James had brought it back late the night before. Hannah drew the curtains and slipped out of her dress into an oversized t-shirt and old, soft jeans. She curled up on the couch with a bottle of water and aspirin and wished she had called to have her cable turned back on. She couldn’t think of a better way to spend her weekend then curled up watching a movie marathon and completely forgetting the outside world.

  Instead, she called home. She talked to her mother, her father, her best friend, anyone she could think of in Stars Landing that she missed. And she practically missed them all.

  --

  Monday rolled around quickly and Hannah was dreading going to work. The more she rolled the memories of Friday night around in her head, the more she cringed. She really had overreacted and then she had drug EM and James into her business. She felt silly and girlish for actually having broken down into tears at her boss’ event.

  Hannah walked into the lobby, nervously ready for her day. “You didn’t call,” Tad accused, walking up to her and handing her a coffee cup.

  She accepted it gratefully, looking at the empty desks that would soon be filled with busy women. “It didn’t go very well, Tad. I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  Tad looked at her a second and something knowing came into his eyes, like he had already pieced it all together himself. He noticed her throwing nervous glances at EM’s office and patted her shoulder. “He has court today, remember?”

  Hannah felt the rush of relief wash over her. Thank god. She could just throw herself into her work and not have to worry about an awkward morning interaction.

 

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