Torn (Torn Series, Book 1)

by Melody Anne

  “Sir?” he says with a raised brow. “I sort of like that,” he adds with a glint in his eyes. I glare at him, not amused. I wait to see what he wants.

  “You know you’ve earned this trip, right?” he asks.

  I’m not one-hundred-percent sure, but from the reactions of the other employees it seems it hasn’t been given to me because I made out with the boss a month earlier.

  “I just had an idea,” I say, hating that I’m so unsure. I want to own my accomplishments. No, I don’t want to make work my entire focus in life, but I appreciate when I do a good job, and I want to work the best I can.

  “You had a brilliant idea. This trip has nothing to do with you and me,” he assures me.

  I look around the room in panic, my gaze going straight to the door. I listen for a moment, letting out a breath of relief when I hear no one walking nearby.

  “Please don’t say things like that here,” I beg him. He smiles.

  “Nothing has happened. What are you so worried about?” he asks. Since it’s more than obvious I’m not coming to him, he moves from where he stands and comes closer to me. Retreat is the only thing on my mind. But I don’t move.

  “We kissed.” My voice is barely audible.

  “I’d love to do more of that. All you have to do is say the word,” he tells me. He rests his fingers next to one of my hands that’s still clutching the chair. He doesn’t move close enough for us to touch, but he’s close enough for me to feel him. That’s almost worse. Anticipation is real.

  “You know it can’t happen,” I say, my voice filled with regret.

  “How are things with your husband?” he asks, the last word coming out as almost a taunt.

  “They’re wonderful,” I lie, false cheer in my tone. “I feel like a newlywed, if I’m being honest.”

  I can’t look him in the eyes as I say this. I’ve never been a very good liar. It’s a quality some say is a good trait, but in the lives of movers and shakers it isn’t something I’m happy about.

  He doesn’t say anything, and I want to look at him, want to see if he believes what I’m saying. We stand there for an endless amount of time. I finally can’t take it anymore. His hand doesn’t move, his body doesn’t move. He’s barely giving me any space. But he doesn’t say a word. I look up.

  There’s a tender expression on his face as he gazes at me. He seems to have all the time in the world — all the time for me. I don’t know what to do with that, don’t know what to think about it. I suddenly feel close to crying. I haven’t told anyone about my problems with Mason, not even Audrey. I haven’t talked to her in quite a while actually. I haven’t realized how long. Has it been six months? Longer? I don’t know. I don’t want to call her, though. She knows me. She’ll know in seconds that something is wrong.

  “Liar,” he says. The word is spoken so softly it takes me a minute to process it, to realize he called me on my BS. My body trembles. I want to look away, and once again I can’t. He captures my gaze and isn’t letting it go.

  He doesn’t move his body, but his fingers shift. Not a lot, just the tiniest bit. His pinkie finger covers mine. It’s a gesture a friend might make, but there’s nothing friendly in the way I feel toward Kaden. Red hot lava flows through my system. His pinkie brushes mine and my body tightens. I’m held by his gaze. I’m lost. I’m ready to admit it all to him, to beg him to make me feel wanted — needed — beautiful — appreciated.

  “Anytime,” he says, his voice husky. He still doesn’t make a move. I’m visibly shaking as I gaze at him.

  I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t know if I’m about to cave. I’ll never know. Because just then there’s a loud crash in the hallway followed by a curse word.

  I rip my gaze from Kaden then pull my hand free. I don’t say another word as I turn and walk from the room. Dell is picking up a pile of folders as he continues mumbling. He must be in a rush to exit the building and he’s walked straight into one of the beautiful plants, knocking it over and dropping everything in his arms.

  “You don’t have to help me. I’m sure you want to get out of here,” he says. Though he’s obviously grateful for the assistance.

  “It’s no problem. I hope you won’t leave me here doing it on my own when I do the exact same thing,” I say with a laugh.

  He smiles at me, a boyish smile that lights his eyes. “Thanks,” he says. “And you can count on it.”

  “Why don’t we walk out together? I’ll feel better with company since it’s so late. I’m going to have to take a taxi. I’m sure the busses aren’t running this late.”

  “I have my car. I’ll give you a ride home,” he says.

  “That’s okay, Dell. I appreciate it, but it’s late, and I’m sure you need to get home,” I say, not wanting to be a burden.

  “I can give you a ride,” Kaden says, bending to pick up the last folder. I didn’t realize he’d approached us. That’s a first since I’ve met him. I’m in a panic. I can’t say no to him in front of Dell, and have Dell thinking there’s a reason I don’t want to be alone with Kaden.

  “Where do you live?” Dell reasonably asks.

  “On the West Side about fifteen minutes from here.” I feel panic in my voice.

  “That’s the opposite way for you, boss. I got this,” Dell says. The man doesn’t see Kaden’s eyes narrow. I look away afraid I’ll blush at any minute. I’d gladly smack a big one on Dell right now for saving me.

  “If it really is no problem, I’ll accept, Dell,” I say, my voice grateful.

  “I insist. Let’s get out of here before the boss gives us more to do.”

  I laugh as I fall into step beside him as we make our way to the elevator. Dell calls out a goodbye to Kaden but I don’t. I hope against hope Kaden won’t join us on the ride down. It won’t be quite as bad as the two of us being alone in it, but it would remind me of our first ride together and all the desire I felt that day.

  Dell pushes the button and the doors close with only the two of us in it. I let out a sigh of relief, much louder than I intend. I’m leaving and there’s no work tomorrow, so I can breathe a little.

  “I give out that same sigh sometimes,” Dell says with another laugh.

  “Do you ever get grumpy?” I ask. “You always seem to be in such a good mood.”

  “What do I have to be grumpy about? I love my job, have a great wife, two monster children, and a family that can sometimes be overwhelming, but I adore them. Yeah, I have off days, but for the most part I like to look at the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow rather than the storm that brought the rainbow in the first place,” he tells me.

  “I’ve never heard that before. It’s beautiful,” I say. “I think I’m going to print that and put it on my wall.”

  The elevator reaches the underground garage and we walk to his minivan. I smile at him and he shrugs as if to say he’s a family man. It makes me smile that much more.

  “Go ahead and use it,” he says as he unlocks the car. “Just make sure you write Dell the Master at the bottom.”

  “Does your wife call you Dell the Master?” I ask.

  He laughs again, true joy in his voice.

  “Not even on the best of days.” He’s still chuckling as he pulls out onto the nearly empty roads. “But I sure as heck call her great.” There’s so much adoration in Dell’s voice I can’t help but feel jealous. I remember when Mason spoke of me that way, when he looked at me like I was the center of his universe.

  The evil voice in my head tries telling me Kaden looks at me like that. It’s a thought I have no business thinking. Besides, he’s only looking at me that way because I’m not his. The second he wins me as some sort of trophy, he’ll quickly lose interest.

  Another woman will come along and he’ll lose interest in the cat and mouse game with me. I want to be glad about that, but I’m not. It isn’t a
s if I’m going to have to see him romancing the woman. Even if I do, I don’t have the right to feel anything about it.

  Dell and I chat on the drive home; it only takes about ten minutes. There’s virtually no traffic. I thank him for the ride and make my way inside. I’m going to make love to my husband whether he wants to or not. I need him to want me. I need him to make me feel special before I do something else to make me feel that way.

  I strip off my clothes and walk straight into his studio, placing a false smile on my lips. I’m not giving him a chance to say no this time.

  “Mason, I’m home.” I turn my voice into a seductive purr.

  “Well heeeelllloooo, Miranda,” Tony says, a low whistle in his voice.

  I freeze where I stand as Mason turns from his painting, his mouth dropping open before he begins laughing. Tony’s sitting on the couch with a cold beer, and he isn’t trying to hide the fact that he’s ogling me.

  Finally I screech and run from the room. Both Mason and Tony chuckle and the last thing I hear before I slam the bedroom door is Tony telling Mason he’s a very lucky man. I don’t try to hear my husband’s reply.

  Sex is definitely not happening now.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Then

  The first year of my marriage to Mason was utter bliss. We couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. We made love in every room of our comfortable house. I got home from work and he’d rip my clothes off, taking me wherever I stood.

  He was truly turning from a boy into a man that first year, his body thickening, his arms ever stronger. He was always able to lift me, but as he got older there was no effort in it at all. I felt demure, beautiful, and desirable. I couldn’t get enough of him, and he couldn’t get enough of me. I couldn’t imagine life any better than it was.

  He painted all the time, had shows, and made a decent living of it. No, there weren’t the big galas I’d pictured in my head, but that would eventually happen. He truly was an incredible artist. My father wanted me to take my time having babies, but I wanted to make our family whole. I was ready to be a mother. There was so much love in my heart, and having a beautiful baby who was half him and half me enter our lives would only make our family that much more perfect.

  We stopped using protection. We made love around the clock. It was only a matter of time before we became a family. I memorized the happiness on Mason’s face when I showed him the pregnancy stick with a plus sign on it. We celebrated by spending the night in bed together.

  “We’re a family, Miranda.” There was a sparkle in his eyes. He would make a wonderful father.

  “Yes we are.” Utter contentment filled me.

  A month later I lost the baby. I don’t ever remember a time I cried as much as that. But he held me and said it would all be okay. We got pregnant again a month later. We weren’t trying, it just happened. We were in our second year of marriage, and while we still made love often, it wasn’t quite so frantic. We were settling into our lives together.

  But we lost that baby, too.

  I got pregnant a third time, and Mason was afraid to touch me, worried it was his fault we kept losing our babies. It broke my heart. I loved being close to my husband.

  By the time of our fourth miscarriage, I was pretty broken. And worse than that, Mason seemed to have grown distant from me. Was he blaming me? Did he think I hadn’t been protecting our babies? I was too afraid to talk to him about it. I was too afraid he was blaming me.

  I told him we needed to wait. Maybe it was too soon, maybe we were too young. He didn’t agree with me, but he didn’t protest when I started using birth control again. I couldn’t keep losing babies. It hurt too much.

  Another year passed. I planned on getting off birth control, planned on trying again, but something in our relationship had shifted. We weren’t as close as we once were, and I somehow knew if I did get pregnant, if I did have a baby, it wouldn’t help our family grow, it would pull us further away from each other.

  We’d focused on our child instead of each other. We weren’t as strong as we once were. What had happened? I didn’t know why we couldn’t talk to each other about it. He no longer grabbed me when I walked in the door after work, no longer ripped my clothes away, eager to make love to me.

  It wasn’t all bad. But I noticed he spent more time in his art studio, and I stayed late at work quite often, taking advantage of happy hour with my co-workers. I wasn’t as eager to go home.

  We had our good days, too. But I couldn’t deny the worry I felt. We’d been married a few years. We should still be over the top in love. I still desired him, appreciated how much he’d matured, how sexy he was. But there was something so different about us, something disconnected.

  We made a commitment to each other though. Couples aren’t supposed to throw that away. I wasn’t giving up. There was a lot wrong with the world because people do just that. They have the slightest problem and run away from it instead of trying to fix it. I wouldn’t be one of them

  Mason apparently agreed because we still slept in the same bed every night. He still held me. We still made love. It was just different. It was almost as if we were doing it because there was a marriage manual that said to. It was heartbreaking. I wanted that first year back. I wanted the hunger, the love, the feeling of it being so right.

  I assured myself things would change, assured myself we were simply in a rut. How long does a rut last, though?

  Chapter Twenty

  Now

  I don’t know what to pack for my trip to Las Vegas. I’ve never been there. I wonder if I’ll have time to go to a show or if it’ll only be about work. I don’t want to ask and seem to be taking advantage of a work trip for personal business, but I’m excited.

  We’ll be there on a Tuesday, but I hear Vegas is a city that never sleeps so there should be plenty of things to do during the week. Maybe it will be less crowded, making it possible to do something in the evening without advanced reservations.

  All of my work materials are packed. The presentation is in a large casino with a huge convention center being built next to it. Alexander Corporation designed layouts to make the convention space appealing to prospective users.

  I’ve worked as an assistant at many companies and have planned a lot of events. I know what works and what doesn’t work. Two huge pet peeves when attending a conference are not being able to find rooms and not having enough bathrooms.

  It’ll be exciting to be a part of this job, to sit with a designer discussing what will and won’t work. The hallways that spur off into more hallways and have rooms such as L-24A drive me insane. Mark the hallways with names. The Rose Hall, the Imperial Hall, the Presidential Hall. Then have numbered rooms R-101, P-202. There’s no need to have letters after them. There are enough numbers available without confusing guests. And to make it even less confusing don’t use words that began with the same letter. If there is a Presidential Hall, don’t have a Peacock Hall. There won’t be more than twenty-six halls so each one can start with a different letter of the alphabet.

  The designers listen to me and nod as if they think my ideas are brilliant, making me feel on top of the world. I might be able to suggest colors and fixtures if they want details, as I have two weeks to plan.

  Now I know why people get so caught up in their jobs. I’m more understanding of my husband working late into the night because I do exactly that when I start planning. I sit down with my computer and notebook and search, writing down ideas, hoping to spend the day in Vegas with the design team and see my ideas come to life.

  Maybe I won’t want to go to a show. But my nerves shatter thinking about presenting these ideas. This is a huge Las Vegas Resort and Casino. They’ll compete with many other conference spaces, and they’ll want theirs to be the best. If they choose us, it will be a ginormous amount of money for the company, and the first time I’ll be involved with a project l
ike this from beginning to end.

  A car picks me up from my house, making me feel special. It’s silly, but I’ve never had this kind of treatment before. It’s sort of cool to be picked up.

  Mason gives me a distracted kiss on the cheek and I’m out the door. The driver grabs my bag and I thank him, wondering if I’m supposed to give him a tip. I haven’t done this sort of thing before. I hope I have enough cash.

  “We’ll be at the airport in about thirty minutes, Mrs. Dagwood,” he says. “I’m Paul.”

  “Thank you, Paul.” It’s just me in the back of the black SUV, and I keep my computer bag with me so I can look over my notes on the ride. I’m glad the driver isn’t a chatty guy. My stomach is too nervous for small talk.

  I hope I have the right clothes, the right work materials. I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything. I packed and repacked three times. I brought one nice dinner dress just in case, and a couple pairs of jeans and comfortable shirts. The rest of my clothes are all business wear.

  We present to the casino two days after we arrive. So the first day we’ll go to the site and tour it. Kaden has already been there multiple times, and Dell has shown me other places the company has designed. It’s apparent how successful Kaden is. But even if I don’t admit it out loud, I think this design is the best one yet. I have a bit of pride, but I’m trying to tamper it.

  The SUV arrives at the airport quickly, but when I look at my phone I see it’s been half an hour. We don’t pull up to the main terminal but to a private entrance.

  “We’re here,” Paul says as he opens my door. I get out and look at him with confusion. “You’ll be flying on the corporate jet,” he says.

  “Oh.” There’s awe in my voice. He laughs.

  “I like that look on your face. I’ve yet to ride on one of those fancy jets, but when I do, I’m sure I’ll look just like you.”

  “If I have any influence I’ll make sure you get a ride,” I tell Paul as I reach in my pocket for some cash.