Pure Paradise

by Allison Hobbs

  Ellen nudged her away from her nagging thoughts with an almond loofah scrub that was ticklish in a wonderful way. By the time Ellen had dipped her feet in warm paraffin, Milan had the brilliant idea of giving Hilton an at-home pedicure and foot massage. Tonight!

  “Skip the white tips, just apply a base coat and the peach-colored top coat. I have to get back to my office,” Milan told Ellen excitedly.

  After applying the final layer of top coat, Ellen slid foam slippers on Milan’s soft and smooth feet. “By the way, Ms. Walden?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you expecting another shipment of that Japanese fragrance? The customers love it. It sold like hot cakes, and now we’re completely out.”

  Normally, Milan would have flipped over such a glaring oversight. She should have been notified the moment the fragrance was down to the last case, but recalling Hilton’s words that Kimochi was her very own unique scent, she had no intention of ever again sharing her signature scent with her clients or any other woman here in the States. If they wanted Kimochi, Milan suggested they plan a trip to the Far East. Good luck on getting it past Customs. She smirked, grateful she’d had enough foresight to stash away a case of the fragrance, lotion, and bath gel safely in her home.

  “Kimochi’s no longer for sale.”

  “What!” Ellen gawked as if Milan had informed her that Pure Paradise was going out of business and would soon be selling all the equipment and merchandise at a garage sale.

  “I lost my connection.” Milan gave Ellen a pitying smile.

  “But we have…like, a trillion orders.” Ellen stared at Milan, her mouth open, her hand resting on her hip, as if waiting for Milan to admit that her statement had been a prank.

  Realizing Milan wasn’t kidding, Ellen smacked the countertop in frustration. “I kept meaning to buy a couple bottles for myself…”

  Ellen scowled so deeply, the lines in face seemed pronounced and several rows of wrinkles instantly developed on her forehead. Poor thing. Instead of worrying about Kimochi, she should have been investing in Botox or Juvéderm injections. Why go around looking haggard when there were a ton of youth-restoring remedies available to stave off the signs of aging? Ellen’s lined face was not a good representation for Pure Paradise. Milan would have to speak to her about her appearance. Not today. The woman was bereft over the Japanese fragrance. But she’d definitely have to discuss her fine lines and wrinkles in the near future.

  Milan wondered briefly how she’d react to getting old. How would she stave it off? At twenty-eight years old, aging was unthinkable, a misfortunate reversal of beauty and youth that happened to others. Not her. Not ever!

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get hold of a bottle or two.” Milan patted the top of Ellen’s hand, which was traversed with thick blue veins. Ugh! She pursed her lips in repulsion. The poor woman was totally falling apart and she was really starting to feel sorry for her, but not enough to part with even one box of her signature scent. She wondered if Maxwell could persuade the manufacturers to take it off the market. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. With all his influence, he should be able to scare the company into producing the product exclusively for Milan. Hell, there were plenty of other fragrances that Japanese women could wear.

  “We’re going to have a lot of disappointed customers,” Ellen said with a sigh.

  “I know. It’s a pity. But good things don’t last forever. Pass the word on, okay?” With that, Milan sashayed back to her office. Heads would roll if she detected even a smidgeon of dried cum on her desk.

  CHAPTER 24

  A faint smile appeared on her lips at the sight of Hilton waiting outside the Rolls, looking sexy in his spiffy uniform which, despite its cut, couldn’t conceal his muscles. When he noticed her approaching, he scrunched his marvelous lips together and nodded, a signal that he liked the way she looked. She turned her head slightly as she felt her smile widening into a big grin. Oh, fuck it! She was delighted to see him. She waved and hastened her steps. Her thumping heart prompted her to run to him, to fly if she could, but common sense and her bad experience with Gerard cautioned her to calm down and slow her stride.

  While most girls were chasing boys and getting their hearts broken—learning through trial and error all the complicated rules that were required when dealing with boys—Milan’s head was buried in books, worrying about her grades and summer learning camps, all the necessary activities that would lead to a successful future. Well, she’d achieved success and now she had to make up for lost time, read a book or find a DVD that taught the rules of dealing with the opposite sex.

  “Greetings, Ms. Walden,” he said courteously.

  Though she felt slightly stung by his formal tone, she couldn’t complain. After all, she’d set the regulations. Feeling slightly off kilter, she slid into the backseat of the Rolls. As Hilton strolled around to the driver’s side of the car, Milan quickly spritzed her wrists with Kimochi and then waved her wrists around, filling the luxury vehicle with her wonderful signature scent, which would hopefully be a reminder to cut out the dutiful chauffeur routine.

  Once situated in his seat, he turned around. “Hey, baby. How was your day?”

  Her heart did a quick flip. A couple squirts of Kimochi and he had switched from referring to her as Ms. Walden to calling her baby!

  “My day was typical,” she lied. “I’m just doing my best to keep the women in Philly women looking and feeling as if they’ve been pampered at one of the top salons in Paris,” she answered with a chuckle.

  “The way they flock to Pure Paradise, I’d say you’re handling your business; you got the pamper business on lock,” he assured her and then turned around and started the ignition.

  Hilton had no idea about the Specialty menu or the Couples Fantasy rooms on the lower level and he never would. She didn’t know very much about the inner workings of a man’s mind, but she had more than just a hunch that her unconventional involvement with Maxwell stood in the way of furthering her relationship with Hilton: Why give him even more information that questioned her sanity, her ability to participate in a normal relationship, and most important, her capacity to love?

  As they cruised in silence, Milan wondered how she’d let Hilton know that she really wanted to take their “thing” to the next level. Last night, she’d tried to show him that she had sincere feelings but it seemed he was comfortable keeping things as they were.

  Milan frowned. She wanted more. What did she have to do to get him to commit? Her thoughts traveled back to her childhood when she used to routinely hand-deliver love notes from her sister, Sweetie, to the current boy of her dreams. Sweetie’s notes were always the same: I go with you. Do you go with me? Circle yes or no. The penciled notes were written in block print, followed by her poorly scrawled signature. The boys always circled yes! Sweetie had a body; she’d developed early. Thick legs, fat tits, and a plump ass were important assets, and her pretty face was an extra bonus. Milan, however, was a long, tall, lanky mess, with no redeeming qualities as far as boys were concerned.

  Well, it was a new day and she was now the bright star of the family. She rolled her eyes in remembrance of Sweetie’s successful love notes. She’d come up with something more adult, more clever and sophisticated.

  “Baby?” Hilton said when he stopped at a red light, craning his neck to make eye contact.

  She absolutely and unequivocally loved the way he called her baby. “Yes?” she purred the word.

  The grim set of his jaw, gave him a look that bespoke the coming of bad news. “I had a meeting today with some of the hot shots in the Eagles camp. I’m, uh, I have to go out of town for a week.”

  Milan felt kicked in the stomach. No, worse. His words jammed into her abdomen with the brutality of a dagger, leaving her breathless and feeling completely gutted.

  “Why?” The word came out in a much higher pitch than she’d intended, but what the hell, she couldn’t stuff it back in her mouth so she went for broke. “Why do you have to leave at a
time like this?”

  “Training camp.”

  “Your knee isn’t completely healed. Why would you risk further injury to chase after a dream? Your football playing days are over, Hilton. When are you going to face that fact?”

  Hilton winced, visibly taken aback by the blast of insults that erupted from her mouth like a violent explosion.

  She covered her mouth, shocked as well by the hurtful words she’d hurled.

  They drove to her estate in silence. The tension inside the car was thick enough to cut with a knife. Oh, Jesus. Any hope of a romantic relationship between her and Hilton had been ruined by her big mouth. Her mind raced. She needed to remedy the situation, send him off with well wishes.

  She leaned forward, rested her arm on the back of the driver’s seat. Then she gently touched his neck. “I’m sorry for that—”

  “Sit back, Ms. Walden,” he cut her off. “You should have your seatbelt fastened,” he said, using a formal tone that altered their relationship and reduced the dynamics back to employer and employee.

  As they entered the gate and coasted down the long driveway that led to her estate, Milan was in a panic. Other than falling on her knees and begging his forgiveness, Milan didn’t know what else she could do to express her apology.

  He came to a stop at her front door. “I’m going to arrange for Mr. Torrance’s chauffeur to drive you until you can find a replacement.”

  “Are you quitting? You can’t be serious. Isn’t this Eagles thing…like a tryout or something?” She spoke in a voice that was deliberately hushed. Raising the volume might release the hysteria that pushed at the edge of her throat.

  “No, it’s not a tryout,” he said, his voice icy. His coldness effectively put chills down her spine. Unhappiness furrowed her brow, revealing her deep discomfort.

  Her obvious distress put a glint of tenderness in his eye, but that look was quickly replaced with a gaze that was cold and unreadable.

  “Yes, Milan. I’m quitting,” he said firmly. “I was going to tell you tonight, over champagne. I thought it was a reason to celebrate.”

  “It is. I was just shocked that you—”

  He held up a stiff hand, silencing her. “You’re good, you know that? Really had me fooled last night, made me believe that inside that mixed-up, scattered brain, maybe there was hope for you.” He swallowed. “Hope for you and me—together.”

  “Hilton, there is. I’m really sorry.”

  “Me, too. But I have to admit, I’m glad your anger allowed you to be honest and express your true feelings. Dealing with you was going to require a lot of work. You’re into some stuff that I don’t agree with and as long as we kept our relationship strictly sex, I could close my eyes and not think about your weird, BDSM lifestyle.” His lips turned down in repugnance. “But you started changing the script, acting like you needed me to give you something real.” He gave a sardonic laugh. “Guess I was wrong. But a word to the wise, that shit you’re into is not healthy for your mind. Be careful. All right?”

  “No, it’s not all right.” This was her final opportunity to turn things around. “I have true feelings for you. It’s just…” She looked down, her face flushed.

  “It’s just what?”

  “The way you have your heart set on football. I thought you were reaching for something that was out of your reach. I can help you…” She fiddled with her fingers, nervously twisted a newly acquired diamond and pearl ring around. “I can help you rebuild your life.”

  “Football is my life! Beside, how could someone as screwed up in the head as you help me? Huh? You enjoy controlling people. All you do is play head games.” He gave a harsh snort that made Milan squirm and gnaw on her bottom lip. “I wanted to help you. I thought I saw something soft, a confused young woman who had flipped love around to something that resembled hate. I thought you were misguided. A simple statement, just asking me about my day, had my heart doing cartwheels for you, baby. I thought we had finally made a connection and I was ready to call what I was feeling love.” He gave a head shake at his own stupidity.

  “I…” she stammered.

  “You were messing with my head, that’s what you were doing.” He gave a little shrug. “I played myself. I’ve been around you long enough to realize that the only person you care about is you! But it’s cool, though. Go ahead. Keep on doing you. I’m about to get back into my favorite sport.” He beamed a sincere wide grin that explicitly told her he had already moved on with his life. Then his expression dimmed a little. “It’s not the way I planned to get my game on—but like I said, football is my life.”

  Not the way he planned? Milan had no idea what he meant by that. She was near tears and her breaking heart was so painful, she was not in a position to try to decipher the meaning behind his words. Hilton was hitting below the belt, slamming her with one low blow after another. She needed to get her thoughts together quickly and change the discussion back to mending their relationship.

  “Give me another chance?” she pleaded, her remorse thickly coating every word.

  “You’re high maintenance. You have issues. You’re selfish. I don’t want, and I damn sure don’t need, a woman like you.” He let out a harsh breath. “Milan, would you get out of the car so I can park. I have to go home and start packing.”

  Taking one last look, her eyes, teary and forlorn, raked over him. But the finality in his tone forced her out of the Rolls. She walked away from him and did not allow her shoulders to slump from the weight of defeat. But once inside, her knees gave out. Curled in a knot on the floor, she allowed her tears to spill. How could she have been so incredibly dimwitted to allow some thoughtless words to throw her life into a complete upheaval? Carelessly, she’d tossed away her only chance of obtaining that mysterious and extremely hard to acquire thing called love. Now, she was left with a hole in her heart.

  CHAPTER 25

  She was dressed and ready for work as usual, but the sight of Maxwell’s limo and his driver put a newly formed lump in her throat. Hilton! She missed him already. Where was he? What was he doing? Had he moved seamlessly into his new life and forgotten her already? The ache in her heart was unrelenting. She doubted that she could keep it together at the salon. Undoubtedly, in her current state, she’d either fire someone undeservedly or whip the shit out of Royce—whether he’d been late for work or not.

  The driver held her hand and helped her inside the limousine. His professional courtesy didn’t help; it made her yearn for Hilton even more. No, she couldn’t bear going to the salon today. At times like this, she really needed a hug.

  “Take me to Willow Grove,” she said and then gave the driver her sister’s address.

  Milan called Sweetie. “Wanna do lunch?” She glanced at her watch. “I mean breakfast?” She chuckled, trying to sound bubbly.

  “This must be a crank call or somebody has a wrong number,” Sweetie retorted. “I know this can’t be my sister—the sister who promised to get back to me three days ago.”

  Milan forced another tinkling sound that mimicked laughter. “I know, I should have called, but you wouldn’t believe how busy I’ve been. I’m sorry. Okay?” Her voice suddenly became low and heavy with the unhappiness that she could no longer conceal.

  “Oh, Lawd,” Sweetie said, sighing, after hearing Milan’s sorrowful tone. “What has happened now? Is your world caving in again? Because you only call or come visit when you’re going through a personal disaster.”

  “That’s not true. I call and talk to the boys every now and then.”

  “Um-hmm,” Sweetie said skeptically. “You only call Dominic and Diamante on their birthdays and holidays.”

  “But I always send them nice gifts.”

  “They’d like to see you sometimes, Milan. Spend a little time with you. You’re not a very good aunt.”

  Milan sighed. She’d put her sister and family in a wonderful neighborhood, set her stupid husband up in a stupid business—a crappy take-out restaurant—and Sweetie stil
l wanted more. She wanted Milan to pick up her brats and take them on outings—to the zoo or Hershey Park or wherever people took kids. Milan was supposed to spend quality time with them but it would never happen. She loved her nephews but she refused to devote precious time to breaking up fights and squabbles between the two little hellions. Ugh! If she wanted that kind of a headache, she’d be married with kids.

  Ouch! The thought brought back the pain. It suddenly occurred to her that she’d marry Hilton without reservation and have at least one kid. Wow! Where was all this coming from? She needed Sweetie’s advice quickly before she lost all her good sense.

  “How come you didn’t get back to me when I told you Mommy needs some help with that house?” Sweetie asked and Milan could imagine her sister’s lips poked out.

  Milan shrugged as if her sister could see her.

  “So what’s wrong? Did something bad happen? Oh my goodness…” Sweetie said in a complaining tone as if Milan had already told her something disastrous that would affect the cushy life she lived in Willow Grove. “I’m sweating over here, Milan. What’s going on? Please don’t tell me you’re losing your business. Mommy is depending on you to start giving her a bigger monthly allowance.”

  Fuck her! Milan wanted to say, but Sweetie and their mother were very close, and Sweetie would have felt personally offended had Milan spoken of their mother with such blatant disrespect. So Milan kept her sentiments to herself.

  “Actually I have an appointment with my accountant. I’ll get back to you in a couple of days regarding a bigger allowance for the upkeep of Mommy’s house,” she said, lying through her teeth. She had no intention of giving her greedy, ungrateful mother another red cent. She didn’t give a shit if her mother’s yard started looking like a damn forest. It would serve her right for treating Milan like a stepchild her entire life.