Heart of Stone

by Dakota Willink

  “Well, what does he look like?” she pressed.

  “He’s tall. Well built from what I can tell. Dark hair and blue eyes – really intense blue eyes. Definitely sexy, and I think he knows it too. He has sort of an arrogant gait when he walks.” I felt my stomach do a little flip as I thought back to the sight of Alexander walking to the checkout line at Wally’s.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Alexander Stone,” I said and waited to see if she recognized the name. Apparently she didn’t, because she just threw another question at me, eagerly looking for more information.

  “How did you meet him?”

  I went on to describe my first encounter and I didn’t leave out any details – my fall, his arm around my waist, his promise to see me soon. She didn’t laugh like I thought she would. Instead, she stared at me with wide eyes, and signaled our waitress for another round of drinks.

  “I can’t believe you fell,” she said incredulously, her eyes wide in shock.

  “Yeah, I did. It was absolutely mortifying too!” I dropped my head into my hands and moaned.

  “You said that you saw him twice. Please tell me that you didn’t embarrass yourself a second time.” I picked my head back up to look at her and started laughing at her expression. She looked thoroughly appalled at the thought of me humiliating myself again.

  “No, I wasn’t a total klutz the second time. But I wasn’t exactly smooth either.” I told her about what happened in aisle nine, and made sure to include the tantalizing way Alexander had chewed a piece of gum.

  “I love it!” she exclaimed, dissolving into a fit of laughter when I told her how I had tossed a pack of Big Red into his cart.

  “Yeah, well…I wanted to throw him off his game and I couldn’t think of anything better to do. I’m not too sure my brilliant idea worked, though,” I said with a frown. I thought back to his stunned look and felt slightly stupid over what I had done. “When I think about it, I can’t even begin to figure out why I found his gum chewing such a turn on. I mean, it’s gum. Gross, right? But it wasn’t. It was all kinds of crazy sexy.”

  “He wants you,” she concluded, popping a french-fry into her mouth.

  “Are you out of your mind? I made a complete fool of myself!”

  “I don’t think so, Krys,” she replied knowingly. “I mean really – the guy came back to see you the very next day. He was concerned about how you were doing, he asks you a bunch of personal questions, makes a crap load of sexual innuendos, and has a philosophical discussion on the fundamentals of control. If that doesn’t scream ‘I wanna screw’, then I don’t know what does. Hell, the fact that you are even talking about him tells me that you want him too.”

  “You’re wrong, Ally,” I said and felt my face redden. Her ability to read me was scary.

  “Oh my god! You’re blushing. You really do like him, don’t you?” she said, obviously stunned. It was time to rein her in before this conversation got out of hand.

  “You are making way too much out of this. First of all, he didn’t make sexual innuendos. Well, maybe one,” I conceded. “I think the rest was mostly made up in my head. And secondly, his questions weren’t personal. They were completely platonic and work related. Sure, maybe I wanted to strip him down right there in the middle of Wally’s, but it wasn’t like that for him. I’m certain that his only concern was a potential lawsuit.”

  She frowned at me.

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re beautiful, Krys. I don’t know why you can’t see that. Is it so hard to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was interested in more than just the bump on your head?”

  “I think the guy has the potential to be a total control freak, Ally. Been there, done that – remember? I won’t make that mistake again.”

  I remained quiet then and looked down at my plate. I was sure that Allyson knew where my thoughts were heading, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, we ate our food in quiet, and I silently prayed that she wouldn’t bring up the forbidden subject of my past, the painful topic that I avoided at all costs. I didn’t want to go there.

  After several minutes had passed, she finally spoke.

  “I know that you don’t want to talk about this,” she began softly. “You have scars that I can’t even begin to comprehend. But –,”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to talk about it,” I stated flatly.

  “Honey, every guy isn’t like Trevor.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? I just haven’t found the right guy yet,” I snapped irritably. I didn’t add that I hadn’t really been looking for Mr. Right either. Two years past and more shrinks than I can count, and my wounds were still raw. A part of me worried that I’d never be whole again. “Maybe I should just become a lesbian.”

  “What?” Allyson frowned, obviously thrown.

  “Nothing – just something Jim said earlier at work,” I muttered. Allyson looked at me quizzically, but dismissed my comment with a shake of her head.

  “Look, Krys. Acknowledging the fact that Stone even exists should be a sign for you. It’s a sign that you’re ready to move on. It’s time to get out there again. You haven’t dated anyone since you and Trevor broke up,” she reminded me.

  “I’ve gone on dates!”

  A few.

  Allyson leaned back in her chair, folded her arms and smirked.

  “Name one guy that you’ve gone on more than two dates with since you and Trevor broke up.”

  There were none. I knew she was right, but I still couldn’t help jumping on the defense. It certainly wasn’t my fault that every guy I met wanted to get jiggy with it after only five minutes of conversation.

  “Alexander Stone is probably one of the wealthiest men in New York. He’s way out of my league He can choose any woman he wants – why in the world would he want me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. The fact that he’s loaded means nothing. Right now, you have two years of celibacy talking for you.”

  “I haven’t been celibate for two years! You’re forgetting about Bryce, the music guy. Remember him?”

  “You can’t possibly be serious!” she said in exasperation.

  I frowned at her, knowing that she was right again. I couldn’t really count the musician that I went out with only once. Bryce was a futile attempt at fixing my shattered heart. He was my rebound after Trevor; the drunken one night stand that never called me again. I wasn’t even completely sure if Bryce was his real name, and I regretted that night still to this day.

  “I don’t want to talk about Trevor or Bryce, Ally. And you’re outrageous imagination about Stone will just end up planting too many crazy ideas in my head. Trust me when I say that I don’t need your help with that.”

  I thought about the little devil that had been making quite a regular appearance on my shoulder as of late, putting all sorts of enticing images in my head.

  Angels and devils? You’re really cracking up, Cole.

  “Yeah, right. You need to have more crazy ideas as far as I’m concerned,” she quipped.

  “Don’t start with me. I’m perfectly fine being alone. I don’t need a relationship or sex to be happy. Besides, I’ll probably never see Alexander Stone again anyways. And even if I do, he prefers tall and curvy redheads.”

  In an attempt to change the subject, I told her about my internet findings on the wealthy Alexander Stone and his history with gingers.

  “So what? If anyone can persuade him to change his mind about redheads, it would be you.”

  “No, Ally,” I said, a warning tone evident in my voice.

  “I can just see the headlines now, ‘Ridiculously Rich Alexander Stone Chooses Chestnut Brown Over Dull Red Head’. It could happen,” she stated matter-of-factly with a devilish smile.

  “Ugh – you’re relentless!”

  Through the loud noise of the pub, I heard the familiar clanking of metal on metal. I looked over my shoulder and saw William standing next to the bar tapping two spoons against his
knee in time with the music, a favorite pastime for the regulars at Murphy’s. A distraction was definitely needed if I wanted Allyson to drop the subject.

  “Come on – Will is playing the spoons.” I stood up, threw my napkin on the table, and grabbed her hand.

  The subject was bound to come up again, but I was finished with it for now. The past was the past. Rehashing it never ended in a positive outcome. Tonight, I just wanted to have fun.

  CHAPTER 5

  I awoke to the sound of an alarm going off, shrill and piercing in my ears. I groaned as I reached over to shut it off, wishing that I could hit the snooze button again. I had stayed out entirely too late and I regretted giving in to Allyson’s ‘just one more drink’ plead.

  I was exhausted.

  When I had gone to bed the night before, I was sure that sleep would come quickly, the effects of dancing and a little too much alcohol helping me along. Unfortunately, I had no such luck. Instead, I had tossed and turned most of the night, the sandman evading me for hours, until I eventually drifted off sometime after three in the morning.

  I forced myself to roll out of bed and get ready for the interview. Groggy and fuzzy with exhaustion, I trudged into the bathroom and started the shower – full force and blistering hot.

  I chanced a look in the mirror and saw that my eyes showed little signs of rest. The dark smudges under them would be difficult to disguise with makeup, on top of trying to cover the yellowing remnants of my bruise.

  I climbed into the scalding shower and leaned my head against the tiled wall. I allowed the steam to envelop me and thought about the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed me during the night.

  My history with Trevor had come back to the forefront of my mind, and I cursed Allyson for bringing him up. I had tried to force the depressing memories of Trevor from my head, only to find my thoughts slowly evolve into visions of Alexander Stone and the feelings he stirred deep inside me – feelings that I didn’t want to feel and had kept buried for so long. For the first time in years, I was physically attracted to a man. It pained me to admit it, even to myself.

  I got out of the shower and towel dried my hair. I knew that I had to stop thinking about all of this nonsense, especially since the probability of seeing Alexander again was slim to none.

  I’m being ridiculous. Time to screw my head back on and focus my energies on the interview.

  Moving to my bedroom, I turned on the stereo. Music was my own personal therapy. I couldn’t play an instrument, and I could barely carry a tune – but I could feel music. The right melody had the power to change my mood in an instant, and that’s exactly what I needed right now to help reign in the desolate memories and unwelcomed thoughts.

  I perused my iPod for the right thing and finally settled on “Stompa”. The catchy toe-tapping tune was the perfect solution to get my body moving. I pressed play, closed my eyes, and allowed the singers deep melodious voice wash over me. As the beat of the song began to pick up, a gradual smile formed on my lips and my head started bopping in time to the ascending bass line. Already feeling an upshift in mood, I made my way to the closet and looked for something to wear.

  When I finished dressing, I spun slowly in the full-length mirror, taking in all of my five feet six inches. I had chosen a simple knee-length navy blue skirt and a matching suit jacket over a cream colored blouse. Low pumps on my feet and pearl teardrop earrings for my ears completed the classic look. I had styled my hair up in a loose twist, praying that it would stay put until my interview was over. My makeup was subtle, with just a hint of coal on my eyes and a touch of pink gloss. I thought that my overall appearance looked smart, without seeming presumptuous.

  I checked the time on my nightstand clock.

  Crap!

  I took me too long to get ready and I couldn’t be late. I needed to land this job. As it was, I slept in later than I had intended and didn’t leave myself any time to research Turning Stone Advertising. I was going into the interview blind.

  I turned off the stereo, sent a silent thanks to Serena Ryder for fixing my mental state, and dashed out the door.

  When I had reached the main lobby of my building, Philip, the doorman, was there to greet me.

  “Good morning, Miss Cole,” he said, his jolly face crinkling with a smile.

  “Morning, Phil,” I answered distractedly. “I need a cab today. Could you call for one please? I’m short on time, or else I’d enjoy the good weather and go on foot.”

  Normally I would have talked with the retired cop for a minute or two, but I wasn’t feeling very chatty at that moment. Anxiety over the interview was starting to set in and I was eager to just get it over with.

  “I shouldn’t have to call for the cab. There have been quite a few on the street today and waving one down shouldn’t be a problem. Come with me.”

  I followed Philip outside through the lobby doors, blinking at the sudden wash of sun, and waited for him to hail me a cab. My foot tapped impatiently on the curb. It had been over a month since my last interview and I was a bundle of nerves.

  “Big day, Miss?” Philip asked, looking down at my foot that was attempting to beat a hole into the sidewalk.

  “Yes, a job interview,” I answered with a worried smile. The cab pulled up and Philip opened the door for me. “Wish me luck!”

  He nodded and gave me a small salute as he closed the yellow car door behind me. I gave the address to the driver and the taxi sped away.

  ****

  Traffic was terrible upon entering the financial district, but we still made good time. For once I was thankful for the fearless and reckless driving of a New York City cabbie, despite the fact that my knuckles were white from hanging on to the seat so tightly.

  When the cab screeched to a halt at our destination, I paid the driver and stepped out onto the pavement. I looked up apprehensively at the impressive structure towering before me. There was a large sign above the main entrance that read Cornerstone Tower in silver lettering. A sleek ornamental spire soared high above the building, piercing a stray passing cloud.

  The sheer size of the place was intimidating, and I found my steps towards the revolving glass doors to be somewhat hesitant. I tilted my head from side to side, stretching my neck like boxer headed into the ring.

  I need to relax. I’ve got this.

  However, as much as I tried to talk myself down, I was still a nervous wreck when I walked through the main doors. I knew that my career opportunities in New York were starting to run out. If I wanted to stay in the city, it was vital that I ace this interview.

  The vestibule was large and it took me a moment to locate the security desk. There was a man wearing an official looking uniform behind a polished mahogany wood counter. He was looking at the security monitors and didn’t notice my arrival.

  I cleared my throat and said, “Excuse me, sir. My name is Krystina Cole. I have an appointment with Laura Kaufman today at nine o’clock.”

  The security guard glanced up at me before looking down at a logbook on the desk. He ran his finger along the page until he located my name.

  “Yes, Miss Cole. Just take the elevator to the fiftieth floor. Ms. Kaufman is expecting you,” he said with a kind smile. He pointed down a corridor to his left. “The elevators are just down that hall.”

  “Thank you.”

  I made my way across the blue veined marble floors towards the bank of elevators. When I reached them, I typed the floor number into the keypad.

  Here goes nothing.

  The doors slid opened and I stepped inside. My ears popped as the elevator climbed higher and higher. When the lift finally reached its destination, a lavish waiting area came into view.

  The room was furnished with several slate gray leather sofas. They were contemporary in style and positioned in a U shape off to my right. A low glass table sat in the middle of the sofas, displaying some sort of small stone sculpture. Eclectic artwork in varying shades of grays and blues adorned the stark white walls.


  When I looked to my left, an attractive woman in a killer designer suit stood up from behind a desk. Her suit was a vibrant emerald green and it hugged every one of her flawless curves. Her makeup was impeccable and not a single strand of her angled bob was out of place. She looked professional, yet exceedingly sexy at the same time. When she walked around the desk to where I was standing, matching six inch green stilettos came into view.

  I would kill myself if I ever tried to walk in shoes like that.

  I was suddenly very self-conscious of my modest navy blue jacket and skirt.

  “You must be Krystina Cole. I’m Laura Kaufman.” She smiled and extended a perfectly manicured hand to me.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Kaufman,” I replied as I shook her hand. She appeared to be in her early thirties, younger than I had anticipated based on our brief phone conversation. Her voice was so gentle and sweet, that I had pictured her to be the grandmotherly type. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  “Please, call me Laura. Just one moment please.” She walked back behind her desk and pressed a button on the desktop phone. “Excuse me, sir. Miss Cole has arrived for her interview. Shall I bring her to your office? Or would you prefer the conference room?”

  “Come to the conference room, Laura. I’m just finishing up with something,” said a male voice from the speaker.

  Laura turned back to me, “If you follow me this way, I’ll bring you to Mr. Stone now.”

  Mr. Stone?

  My eyes widened in surprise upon hearing the name.

  No way. It can’t be the same guy. Mr. Blue Eyes. Mr. Keep-me-up-all-night-dreaming-of-sapphire. Impossible.

  Then the light bulb went on, a blinding glare that almost knocked me flat on my ass, as I remembered all of the things that I knew about Alexander Stone.

  Stone Enterprise. Stoneworks Foundation.

  My stomach dropped as panic began to set in. The building that I stood in was called Cornerstone Tower. And I was about to interview for a position at Turning Stone Advertising.