by Haley Pierce
“I love you,” she whispers earnestly as she wraps her arms around me. “I don’t care if you don’t, or can’t. But I do. And I want you to know that. I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t.”
And then I do the dick thing, the only thing I can do. I nod at her, speechless. Because I’ve fucked hundreds of women and never felt a single thing afterward.
But this? This is uncharted territory for me.
I don’t know what it is, but it’s not nothing. It might even be love.
Lily
What the hell, I think the next morning, before I even open my eyes.
The bright morning sun is slashing into my face, assaulting me, making me want to die
I’m sore. I know that without twitching a single muscle. Every part of me hurts, even at rest. I’ve never felt so utterly, thoroughly worked over. I’m not one for exercise, so this is a new feeling for me.
What the hell had I done? Had I lugged bricks across town or something?
I cover my head with a pillow and try to go back to sleep, but then I smell this delicious, spicy aftershave, and realize the pillow is positively marinating in it. Yum.
The sheets are softer than mine. Like silk.
I’m in an unfamiliar bed.
And then memory floods back. Of course I’m sore. There can be no doubt why. Max is like a machine. His appetite for sex is just as he said: ravenous. I’d lost track of the number of times he’d brought me to climax. Maybe he’s also kinky, like he said, but if so, he’d kept that under wraps, last night.
After I told him I loved him, and . . . crickets.
I had to say it. I’d been feeling it, and I don’t usually keep my feelings quiet. I told myself I wouldn’t care if he didn’t reciprocate, that it didn’t matter.
But after all that mind-blowing sex, perfect, amazing sex . . . there was one little chink in the night.
He’d just stared at me dumbly, and changed the subject.
Oh, well.
Maybe the sex will be enough, I tell myself.
Taking a deep breath, I tear one eye open and made out a fortress of sheets and pillows. I try to focus on the form next to me, but as my vision clears, I soon realize that that side of his king bed is empty.
I sit up straight in bed, my every muscle protesting, screaming that I should just stay put. I look at the night table. The bedside digital clock proclaims that it’s nine-o-six.
Oh, shit. The kids. What was I thinking?
I pull the sheet off myself. I’m naked. I scan my surroundings. The room is enormous, easily the size of my apartment, and there are massive windows on one wall, with . . . no shades. Holy cow, is Max an exhibitionist, or what? How come I hadn’t noticed, while fucking him, that I was on display for half the city?
Yes, the bed is full of rumpled sheets. I’d always heard that first-time sex hurt, but it hadn’t hurt me. Neither had second-time, or third-time, or fourth-time sex. No, it had been better and better, every time. Considering all our escapades, I’m surprised the bed was in good a condition as it is; that is, still standing. But everything else in the room? Immaculately clean and white. Almost like a hotel room; lacking anything personal. I half-expect there to be a bible in the night table.
Then I inhale and smell . . . bacon.
Ah, bacon.
Easing my legs over the side of the bed, I take my first wobbly steps across the room, scanning the ground for a discarded piece of clothing of his, like a dress shirt. But no, one thing Max’s outward perfection failed to inform me of was that he takes as much care in the perfection house as he does with his appearance.
Oh my gosh, I think, remembering how he’d tread around my apartment like it was a minefield. He must think I am the worst slob.
Then I remember he probably has a maid—forget that, he probably has a team of maids, considering how extra he is—and I don’t feel so bad.
His closet, like I expected, is of the walk-in variety, and I’d say there are no fewer than 100 suits there, all arranged by color. A sea of white dress-shirts takes up an entire wall. I find a freshly starched one that must have just come from the dry cleaners, but it smells like him—like clean, soapy sweetness— and I put it on.
When I go out to the kitchen, Max is there, flipping omelets. He does it with the ease of an experienced chef, except unlike an experience chef, he’s completely naked. So he is an exhibitionist.
“Hey,” he says as I walk in, staring at his enormous cock, which is now flaccid. I can’t believe I had that inside me.
He notices my wide eyes so I pretend to yawn as I lean against the counter. After last night, I’d desperately need the support, since my knees still feel like Jell-O. Our night together clearly had had a positive effect on him. He looks alert and chipper now, and almost as if he’s forgotten yesterday’s horrible meeting already. “So do you ever wear clothes at home?”
He shakes his head. “If you don’t wear them, you don’t have to wash them.”
I gnaw on my lip. “But you could burn something important.”
He laughs. “Not me. I am an expert.”
I didn’t know that about him. “How did you learn to cook?”
He shrugs. “I’ve always known. My mom liked to cook.”
“Really? So your mom . . . she treated you . . .”
“Better? Yeah. I mean, I was her son. She didn’t see a difference between the two of us. That was my dad. But Dan wasn’t into cooking. He couldn’t crack an egg to save her life. So she taught me.” He plates the omelet and points to the stools at the granite topped center island. “Sit. I hope you like eggs.”
I sit down at the table, and he lays the plate in front of me. The omelet looks professional, the bacon perfectly crisp, and there are even two orange slices as garnish. I’ve never had anything so fancy. Honestly, for the past few years, my normal breakfast has been nothing but a handful of Frosted Flakes and black coffee. “It’s nice.”
“Well, it’s not a thousand-dollar frittata, but I guess it’s something,” he teases, opening up a tray filled with neatly arranged K-Kups and holding it out to me. Eureka. I select some fancy dark roast, since I need all the caffeine I can get, and he starts the Keurig up. When the aroma of coffee starts filling the air, I instantly feel my blood moving, again.
I take my first bite, and almost let out a moan. Who knew that eggs could taste this good? They’re fluffy, with cheddar cheese, that melts against my tongue. I take a bigger mouthful, the next time. “I’m impressed again.”
He shrugs like it was nothing and sets the mug of coffee in front of me. Then he lifts me up into his arms. “I wish I could fuck you again, but I’ve got to go into the office and set up a meeting with the board, so I can plead my case to them.”
“Oh.” I blink. I wish I could fuck you again. Of course, that’s all this was. For some reason, I’d pictured something more, us spending all Sunday in bed, together. This sounds like a brush-off. But . . . at least he made me food? “Aren’t you going to eat?”
He shakes his head and starts to walk toward the shower. I try not to focus on the perfection of his naked ass as he moves away from me. “If I don’t get in and set up that meeting right away, it might be too late.”
“Okay.”
For the next five minutes, I stare at my eggs, taking a few disinterested bites as I hear the water from the bathroom turning on. Then, I scrape the remains into the garbage, place the plate in the pristine sink, and go to the bedroom, where I find my dress, underwear, and shoes.
I’m just strapping on my heels when he comes out of the shower, wet, a towel slung on his hips. “You have somewhere to be?”
I don’t. Calvin usually spends Sundays with Joey so that I can take a break. But I suppose I could go over there, anyway. Or maybe I can just go home and bury myself in the covers of my bed, which is what I suddenly want to do. “Well, my brother . . .”
He nods and goes to his large armoire, where he pulls out a t-shirt, socks, and a boxer briefs. “Gotcha.
Give him my best.”
I stand there awkwardly in the door, wondering what else to say as I watch him put on his underwear. He goes to the closet for a moment, and comes back in a white dress shirt, then scoops his cuff links off a valet on his desk, just like this is any other day. Of course, this isn’t awkward for Max. He’s done morning afters too many times. He’s used to this.
He looks at me as he snaps on a cuff-link. “Do you need something?”
I press my lips together, fighting the tears that are fighting their way out of my eyes. I knew what this meant to him. I didn’t even believe that I could be the one girl to change his ways. There is absolutely no reason to cry.
But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to as I utter a curt “No,” grab my purse, and head out the door.
Max
I feel a deep pang of regret as I head to the office.
The second I saw Lily’s face; I knew I’d done something wrong. I should have stopped her from leaving. This was new for her. She’d needed me to hold her at least, or tell her that last night had meant something.
Instead, I’d treated her like just any woman.
It only occurred to me what an absolutely brutal fucking mistake that was when I was in the limo, heading to the office. I pulled out my phone and thought about texting something, but “Thanks for last night” sounded too flip. Nothing conveyed what I really wanted to say to her.
Nothing short of I love you.
I sure as hell wasn’t saying that. This wasn’t love. Hell, I’d only met her a week ago.
And yet there was no denying she’d turned my world around. Last night hadn’t been like any night I’d ever had. It had been more intimate, more intense. It hadn’t been about chasing an orgasm at all. I hadn’t even thought about myself, in fact. It had been all about her, about making Lily feel good.
I rub my tired face as I look out past a rain-spattered window, into the city. It’s early Sunday, so the traffic is lighter right now. I have to do this, I remind myself, pocketing my phone. This is what it’s all about, isn’t it? Getting Winchester Properties under my control. Who the hell cares about what Lily Brogan thinks or feels?
The limo pulls up at my office building, and I curse myself. You care. Admit it, you do.
No. I refuse to admit that. This whole arrangement was for one reason: To get my company back. Lily wouldn’t even be in my life if it weren’t for that, the main purpose for my existence for the past decade. I’ve always thought as the helm of Winchester as my destiny, and I’m sure as hell not going to let anything derail that.
I stalk into my office with newfound conviction, and drop my briefcase in my father’s office. As I’m writing up the email to the board to convene and emergency meeting, I look up to see Seth, hanging in my doorway.
“Hey,” he says to me.
“Hey.” I pause with my fingers hovering over the keyboard, wondering what day we can meet. It’s Sunday, so since most of the office is out, Monday will be the day. Sunday. I look up, wondering why Seth is even here. “You have some extra work to catch up on?”
He shakes his head. “But I do want to talk to you about something.”
I hold up a hand. “Let me just-“
“It’s important.”
“All right.” I keep typing. This is important. Maybe the single most important email I’ve ever written. And I need to state my case with conviction. Dan is unfit to lead this company. I finish the last paragraph, address it to the correct people, and hit send.
I look up at Seth, and it’s only then I realize that he looks a little sick. “What’s the problem?”
“Your brother,” he says.
I smirk. “You can say that again.”
“No. What I mean is that, you know how he is with the funds,” he says, coming into the office and closing the door. “He’s been going over every record line by line. And . . .”
That’s not surprising. I stare at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “And?”
“And I may have used the corporate credit card to pay for our latest trip to the club,” he says, cringing.
I let out a slow breath. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Well you know, I always pay it off with my own funds. But it’s there. And no, it doesn’t say Suitors Club on the statement. It says Entertainment Resources. But he knew you and I were together that night. And I don’t know, with a little detective work he might be able to put two and two together and . . .”
And figure out that was where I met Lily.
Depending how much he wanted it—and he was a Winchester, after all, so something told me he wanted it a lot—he wouldn’t stop his digging. And once he started to get suspicious, it wouldn’t take long to recent news stories about my latest conquests, the most recent of which appeared well after when Lily and I supposedly met. He’d be able to ask around and realize that I’d had a new woman on my arm for every function of the past year, and not one of them even resembled Lily. If he made the right connections, he could easily trail our meeting right to that Saturday night . . .
Shit.
“Okay,” I say. “Thanks, dumbass. Well, he doesn’t know anything yet. And anyway, Lily and I aren’t . . .”
“You aren’t playing engaged anymore?”
“No, we are.” Technically. After last night, though, it was sticky.
He snorts. “My advice to you: End it. As soon as you can. Before he finds out what you did.”
He is right. I suppose the only way to get my brother to stop digging on that would be to end the engagement. That only seems logical. Especially since it isn’t currying me any favors with my father.
“Get the booty first, though,” he says. “You paid for it.”
“I didn’t pay for that,” I say, annoyed at the suggestion. “I paid her half to pretend to be my fiancé. The other half was when I successfully got my business back.”
“If Dan finds out what you did, I guess you might be in for a bargain. Because the board will never let you run the company if they find out what you did.”
I nod.
He stands up and leans forward. “Your only chance: End the engagement now. Bury her. And plead your case to the board asap. If you don’t, it’s game over.”
I sink down in to my father’s chair, then finger the ring in my pocket, which I’ll need to return. I’ve gotten very comfortable, too comfortable within these walls, over the past months. It may not be mine for much longer, if I don’t do as he says. “Yeah.”
He leaves, and I take a deep breath, pulling out my phone. I type out, then delete, then type out again a text to Lily, my finger hovering over the send button for the longest time. Finally, I close my eyes and press send.
It’s over. We can’t see each other again.
Lily
The early results are very encouraging,” the doctor says to me as we sit in the waiting room, alone. A Sunday morning news show is on the television set, talking about the best way to make a Disney vacation affordable. That was always Joey’s dream. We’d even qualified for a free vacation with Make A Wish, but by the time we got everything figured out, he was far too sick. I look up at the smiling face of Mickey Mouse and wonder if Joey will be well enough to make that dream come true.
It’s a dream for me, too.
Although when I think of it, I can’t help but think of walking around the parks with Max. Max, the antithesis of all things Disney. I can’t imagine him going from ride to ride in his three-piece suit.
And after he blew me off this morning? Joey’s dream not only has more merit, it’s much more possible.
Still, I can’t help thinking of our night together. I can’t regret it. It was too good, a perfect way to lose my virginity, with the sweet, caring, flawed Max I’d uncovered. If only his father’s Max, the egotistical, business-minded, money-hungry Max hadn’t come out. I thought of his skin against mine, the way we’d come together, and blink away the image as the doctor continues to show me test results. “That’s great. S
o great.”
The doctor pats my hand and then walks away, as my phone buzzes with a text. I see Max’s name and rush to open it.
I frown at the text.
It’s over. We can’t see each other again.
And just like that, we’re nobody to each other anymore.
I know that’s his father’s Max. I know he’s back on the hunt for the only thing he professed to love: His business. I never expected to change him. But after last night . . . maybe I’d hoped.
I’d more than hoped. It may be easy for him to be that close to a person and then turn them away. But it’s not for me. It’s like he ripped an entire piece of me away.
But I refuse to cry. I refuse to let this matter any more than he is letting it matter. I have more important things to care about, too. A family to raise. Eight people who depend on me to lead the way. And I’m not going to let them down.
I look down the hallway and see Cara and Calvin heading this way. After all, it is Calvin’s day to sit with Joey. They wave at me, and Calvin says, “Hey sis, what are you here for?”
Cara grins at me, her eyes sweeping over my soft pink dress, which, even rumpled from wearing it the previous day, is miles nicer and more formal than my usual sweats. “She must have a date with her doctor stud!”
I shake my head. “Actually . . . we . . .” Broke up? Never were dating in the first place. I just don’t have it in myself to lie anymore.
“Actually, you’re not dating a doctor?” she asks me.
I stare at her. “What?”
“I know that Max dude wasn’t a doctor,” she says, flopping down in the waiting room chair. “I wasn’t born yesterday. Why did you lie?”
Calvin starts to back up and point behind his back. “Whoa. Okay, it’s too early for girl drama. I’m out.” He turns on his heel and runs toward Joey’s room.