Twenty-One Days (Pleasure Series Book 3)

by Amber Rayne

  I nodded, brushing off the memories of working in corporate America, the long hours, the constant anxiety and the meds I was taking like vitamins. “I hated my other jobs. This one I like.”

  “Probably didn’t help that you had a terrible fiancé, too.”

  “No, that didn’t help.”

  We talked for a while longer and were silent even longer. Three hours had passed, and I hadn’t realized it until he finally said, “It’s getting late.”

  “I should go home.”

  He stood up and made a call. “I’ll take you home, or you can stay here.”

  “I’ll stay.” I stood and headed toward the guest room. He took hold of my arm and shook his head.

  I started to take off my shirt, but his hands covered mine, guiding them away. He undressed me, slipping my shirt off, kissing the exposed skin and then trailing more kisses down my stomach as he helped me out of my pants and then my panties. When he stood, he slipped his hands behind me to unclasp my bra. As I stood naked in front of him, he simply kissed me softly. There wasn’t anything erotic about it, just soft, gentle kisses.

  Then he led me to his bed, and I slipped under the covers. He took off his clothes and slid in beside me. Turning on the TV, he flipped through several screens and pulled up The Originals.

  “You want to watch this?” I asked, incredulous.

  He scoffed. “Not at all. But I’m sure you do. The tale of the complicated vampire family, right?” he said in a mocking tone.

  “And the people they sired,” I added, grinning.

  “That’s something to be proud of.”

  We didn’t have sex, nor did we end up watching the show. I fell asleep cradled in his arms.

  The next morning I awoke to knocking at the door and an empty bed. Lorraine peeked her head in. “Is there anything special you would like to eat?”

  “No, I’m going to go home.” I looked around Aiden’s bedroom. The room was clean, his clothes put away and mine neatly folded on the dresser.

  “Mr. Matthews had to leave early this morning but said for you to make yourself at home.”

  “When is he coming back?”

  “It’ll be a while.”

  “What’s a while?”

  “I’m not sure.” But there was something in her voice, the tone too soft, concerned. As if she was only telling me a partial truth. I wondered if he’d left to make this a clean break. I shouldn’t have called him. The weeks would have gotten easier, but instead I’d just reopened a healing wound. Twenty-one days had turned out to be more than I’d expected.

  CHAPTER 7

  Aiden hadn’t called for a week, not since the last time we’d seen each other. He was keeping his distance, and rightfully so—we needed it. I needed it. I had just taken off my work clothes and slipped into something more comfortable. Home by ten wasn’t exactly a lively night but it was enjoyable enough, better than staying at home by myself or hanging out with people I barely knew. Whatever it was that Natalie heard in my voice had compelled her to ask me to join her and her husband on Friday, date night.

  My mood should have been lifted by spending the night with them, but it always led to me being contemplative about how things would have been if Jason wasn’t an arrogant ass. What would life be like if he’d really cared for me the way Natalie’s husband noticeably did for her? My flaws, instead of being a source of ridicule, would actually be quirks he adored. When he looked around the room, I wouldn’t have to wonder if he was looking for someone better. I’d spent the night noticing how he looked at her as if she was the only person in the room. My friend deserved him, and I was glad she’d found him, but it didn’t stop me from feeling a little sad that I didn’t have what she did. Even if I wasn’t sure I was cut out for the love, marriage, picket fence and children, I couldn’t deny that I wanted to have someone special in my life. My fling with Aiden had been a distraction, and I was more aware of it than ever.

  It was that odd period where it seemed to be too early to go to bed on a Friday night. When someone knocked at my door, I peeked out the peephole, angry for being disappointed when I saw Jason instead of Aiden.

  “Ella, can we talk?” His tone was soft and defeated, yet resolved, as he sagged into the door. He looked up and gentle, sad eyes reflected back at me.

  “Talk,” I ordered through the door.

  “Please. May I come in?”

  It took me so long to answer that he had leaned against the door frame, his hand resting on the door.

  After several more moments of hesitation, I opened it.

  He looked around the room. He wasn’t drunk, but I could smell alcohol on his breath. But there was a gentleness and kindness on his face, a little glimpse of what I’d seen years ago, when we’d first started dating. The tentative way he’d held me, his proclamations of love and adoration, the comfort I’d felt with him. It had lured me in, made me fall for him, and seeing hints of it now made me feel less foolish for loving him and for staying with him for far longer than I should have.

  “She’s divorcing me,” he admitted solemnly. That was a surprise to me, and the dour look on his face made it obvious it had been just as much of a surprise to him.

  “I’m sorry.” It was an automatic response, an inanity that I offered but didn’t really feel. It was hard to feel sorrow for him when he was so deserving of this and more.

  “How could you do this to me?” he snarled.

  What! Of course Jason wouldn’t take responsibility for his actions. The problem wasn’t the fact he had been attempting to have a liaison with his ex-fiancée, but rather that I had exposed it.

  “Yeah, blame me, because you trying to initiate an affair with me couldn’t be the problem at all.”

  He pushed me against the wall, his fingers digging hard into my skin, his lips drawn back in unrestrained rage.

  I attempted to jerk out of his hold, but it only tightened. “You were always a selfish cunt. You couldn’t just say no. You had to ruin my life.”

  “Get your fucking hands off me!”

  He relaxed his hold on me but closed the little space we had between us. His body pressed against mine, he ran his hands over my arms, slowly, possessively, with a hint of aggression and entitlement that scared me. His eyes were cold as they fastened on me, and it was evident he was holding me accountable.

  “You had every right to be jealous of her. She was better. Much better than you. But as Aiden Matthews seems to have discovered, you are only good for a fuck. And that you do well.” He grabbed my breasts. I shoved him back. He lunged at me, slamming me back into the wall. I fumbled around on the side table as he tugged up at my shirt. I grabbed the metal claws my father had given me and shoved them in his face so he could see them. My father had given both my sister and me a pair; the goal was to use them to collect DNA from an assailant. I believed in using them the way my father had instructed us to, by slashing the person. I had accidentally stuck myself, enough to know that it stung when I snagged my skin on it. When used purposely, it would hurt like hell.

  “Get your fucking hands off me! Now. You leave me alone. In fact, if you see me on the street, you move. If you so much as call me, you will not be ready for the shitstorm I will cause.” I glanced up at the corner across from the door, where I had installed a small camera when I first moved into the apartment. I doubted he knew how crappy it was, but the footage was still good enough to use as evidence against him. The irony of it was that it was an idea I had gotten from him, because of the one he’d installed at his home.

  “I mean it. Call me, text me, even so much as send a message through someone I know, and I will send it to your employer, Rebecca’s lawyer, Facebook and every place I can. My sole purpose in life will be to make your life such a hell even your goddamn daddy can’t fix it.”

  He hesitated, taking another look at the camera, my disheveled shirt, and the claws. I shoved the claws at him, not hard enough to cause damage but enough to let him know I meant business. He yelped, watchi
ng blood pool in the spot where I’d nicked him.

  When he left, I closed the door behind him, locked it, and rested against it. I’d thought I would feel something: relief, sorrow, or anger. Nothing. I was numb to him and everything else. I waited for the anxiety or the fear to settle in, but there wasn’t any. Would he have forced himself on me? I didn’t know. I’d never denied him before, and it had been never an issue since he was getting it from someone else.

  CHAPTER 8

  Nothing changed when it came to my feelings about Jason. If I had to commit to one, it would be relief. He’d given me permission not to care and to be as cruel as necessary, and with him, I was willing to do it. As I’d expected he would, he took heed of my warning, probably wondering daily if I was feeling particularly vengeful and would make good on the threats I’d made.

  Life was starting to get back to normal, or what should have been normal. I had gone from being Jason’s fiancée, to a person going through life as a revenant after being unceremoniously dumped, to a life with Aiden in it, being his…whatever. I'd thought my time with Aiden had helped. Now I knew he'd been a pleasant distraction, but not the answer, because now I wanted him and I couldn’t have him. It was obvious he would adhere to the rules he’d laid out before we started.

  Slowly I got used to not seeing him at the café. The first few days were hard, but by the ninth day, I went into the busy café with only the expectation of getting my caffeine fix, and it was a good thing, because that’s all I ended up with. Aiden never returned. I tried not to think about the fact that I had traded one heartache for another. But this wasn’t a heartache, it was a void where I shouldn’t have given him a space.

  Fifteen days after leaving Aiden’s home—I hated that that was how I counted days now—I walked into work.

  “You naughty little minx,” Jules chirped as she came into my office. I hadn’t had a chance to settle into my seat with my coffee and croissant. She took a seat in the chair in front of me, her smile stretching from ear to ear. She was a bundle of unspent bubbly energy. Typical for her, but not for a woman her age. Her jovial personality was contagious.

  “What minxy thing are you attributing to me?”

  “We just got a call from Regency Real Estate.”

  I stared at her blankly.

  “As if you don’t know,” she said with a big smile.

  I shrugged.

  “Here I thought you were on vacation, probably knee-deep in cheap alcohol, ice cream and chick flicks, trying to forget that waste of oxygen Jason, and you were impressing real estate moguls.”

  Blinking several times, I still couldn’t make sense of what she was talking about, and I was growing impatient. “Jules, just tell me everything, please.”

  Barely able to contain herself, she stood and started to walk the length of the room, but it didn’t help her spend the energy that was clearly brewing in her.

  “I received an email from someone from Regency Real Estate, stating they had heard wonderful things about the company and after meeting you, they wanted to meet to discuss us managing their properties. There are ten, Ella. Ten! They want on-site management.”

  Then she started rambling about her plans to hire more people to staff it, something she had probably been thinking about since she had gotten the email. Watching her jubilance made it harder to ask the questions that were going through my mind. I was cautious as I asked them. “Do you know who owns Regency Real Estate?”

  She grinned, baring all her teeth in a smile. “Alexander Matthews,” she breathed out, and I had a feeling that like most of his constituents, she had become enamored of his charisma, warm personality, and promises. She didn’t know him as the backstabbing opportunist who gained pleasure from trying to seduce his son’s girlfriend. I pushed the thought aside. Girlfriend. I was no such thing to Aiden. I was a twenty-one-day fucktoy, and thinking about him—something I had forced myself not to do for several days—made my gut wrench. Stop it, I scolded myself.

  “We will be meeting with them tomorrow morning,” she informed me.

  “We?”

  “Of course I’m bringing you. After all, you’re the main reason we might get this. I’m going to parade you around as employee of the year,” she chirped.

  Eventually, despite her excitement, she stopped to assess me. “What’s the matter?” She tilted her head, studying me, her brow furrowed, her lips pulled down into a moue.

  “Nothing. Just seems like a lot. But I’m so happy for the opportunity.”

  “If we get this contract, it’s a game changer for us. Life altering. I’ll be able to give everyone a raise, hire more staff, and make sure you all don’t have to work these long hours.”

  Any reservations I’d had were squashed at this moment. It wasn’t about her; it wasn’t about me and how uncomfortable it would make things. This was an opportunity for all of us. And I couldn’t ruin it because I might occasionally have to run into Mr. Matthews. It was doubtful that he’d have his hands in it. More than likely, I would be dealing with an assistant.

  Jules and I didn’t just deal with one assistant. Apparently Councilman Alexander Matthews had several assistants and several lawyers that we had to deal with. And when we arrived at the office, a large building in the middle of the city, the massive conference room felt stiff. Dark furniture, pale walls, the picturesque window serving as the only decoration. Herman Miller chairs, an espresso machine in the corner. Silk flowers placed strategically throughout the room, and large plants in the corner, also fake. It felt cold, sterile. It was corporate America, and we were about to get into bed with them. And no matter how many times I tried to push off the dread and the weight that burdened me, it was getting harder as we took a seat in front of four people, all dressed in their power suits with splashes of color in either a handkerchief or a tie. The two women present wore dark shirts.

  When Jules sat next to me, I had a feeling she had the same concerns. So much so that it seemed like she was ready to terminate the meeting. I leaned over and whispered, “This is a good deal,” and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, even though we were clearly out of our depth. We didn’t have a team of assistants or lawyers.

  Jules reviewed the paperwork, as I knew she would, asking for several changes to it. She might not have been corporate America, but she had a strong background in it and always joked that she was an armchair attorney. After she handed them the papers, they all reviewed them, making several marks where something needed to be changed. Jules pulled out her computer and was able to make the minor changes.

  “The ownership has changed,” I pointed out, looking at the paper.

  One of the suits responded with a nod. “We are in transition. It’s no longer Regency Real Estate. We work for the new owner.”

  “And that is?” Jules asked, showing some concern that within twenty-four hours, things had changed and she had no clue who she was actually working for. Were there still the same number of properties? Would it be as lucrative as she’d assumed it would be yesterday?

  “Blakely Properties,” another suit offered. “I assure you, you have nothing to be concerned about. Everything will be the same. All the requirements will be the same—same on-site management, same properties, same duration of the contract.” She pulled out several documents for Jules to peruse.

  Jules continued to look over the pages of documents. She didn’t seem weighted by concern, but definitely not as enthusiastic as she had been the day before. She had known who she was dealing with before—or rather, the person the media had presented to her. Now we were dealing with new owners, new people.

  “I can understand your concern,” said a familiar smooth, deep, commanding voice. I looked up, and Aiden had entered the room, leaning against the door frame, his chiseled features now accentuated by five-o’clock shadow. His piercing amber eyes roved over Jules and then stayed rooted on me. He smiled. I didn’t. Instead I busied myself with looking at the papers in front of me. Bastard. I was getting over him. I was su
re in weeks he was going to be a distant memory.

  And just like with his father, who Jules had become familiar with thanks to the media and the constant exposure of photo-ops during charity events, she seemed to be enchanted by the son.

  “Jules—is it okay for me to call you that, would you prefer Ms. Daniels?”

  “Jules is fine,” she offered.

  He gave her a reassuring smile and then took a seat at the head of the table, leaning in to ask, “What can I do to make you comfortable with the situation? I can imagine it’s quite difficult to expect to be doing business with one person and have it immediately changed. But I can sure you, there’s nothing bad going on. Just like my father, I was impressed with Ella Reid’s enthusiasm for the company. It is rare for people to feel that way. If that’s the type of business you’re running and you have people like her there, I look forward to working with you.”

  Everything after Aiden came in seemed to go in slow motion, although it was handled quite quickly. New contracts were printed out with the new ownership information on them. Aiden quickly signed. The meeting ended with him shaking Jules’s hand and then mine. His fingers lingered, stroking the pulse of my wrist, sending chills up me. I remembered how many times those hands had touched me in various places. I jerked my hands away.

  “It’s nice meeting you, Jules. And very nice seeing you again, Ella.” I could still feel Aiden’s eyes on me as we walked out of the room, and just before we turned the corner to get to the elevator, I looked back. He stood in the hallway, a slight smile curling the corners of his mouth.

  CHAPTER 9

  Aiden’s deep, striking cognac-colored eyes were always intoxicating, but I refused to be beguiled by them, to let down my defenses. The ache I had felt when someone was sitting in his spot in Biscot was gone. I didn’t lie in bed reliving the moments I had spent with him. Nor did I castigate myself repeatedly for allowing myself to become emotionally entangled with a man who wasn’t able to give more of himself than just a casual encounter.