His to Love (Fireside #1)

by Stacey Lynn

  I stuck my tongue out at him, teasing him, while he served our food and then took a seat at one of the barstools at the counter. He didn’t have a kitchen table so we dug in right there and quietly talked about our day and what we had to do. I was in middle of telling him about my job hunt and apartment search, hesitating on whether or not I should tell him that Latham Hills was at the top of my neighborhood list, when his eyebrows snapped together and the room chilled. His jaw tightened and sharp lines darted out from the outer edges of eyes as he glared at something over my shoulder.

  I followed his glare to the television screen that had been on, but on mute, ever since I entered the room. Photos of three young women were on the screen along with a red banner beneath them that read “Breaking News: Another reported disappearance of a young blond woman.”

  My heart pumped a beat faster when Tyson jumped up from the stool and darted to the couch in the living room where he picked up a remote and turned up the volume.

  “This is the fourth disappearance in less than ten days. All the women were reported missing by their parents when they failed to return home after curfew. The last-known whereabouts of Cilia Metzer, the most recent female victim, was Harrison Street, two blocks from her home. It was reported that she was walking home from a friend’s house—”

  “Fuck.” Tyson cursed and punched a button on the remote. The screen went black and my eyes went wide.

  “Tyson?”

  I waited for him to respond as he threw his hand to his forehead and scrubbed down his face.

  “What is it?” I asked again.

  A sinking feeling hit my gut as he exhaled and his head fell forward.

  “Nothing,” he finally said, shaking his head. He tossed the remote onto the couch and walked toward his spot at the counter.

  “Do you know them?”

  “Eat, Blue.” He picked up his fork, speared his eggs and shoved them into his mouth.

  “Is it a case you’re working on?” I prodded when he still didn’t look at me after several more bites. I couldn’t explain the tension in the room or the chill in the air. What else could have caused such a visceral reaction in him?

  He licked his lips and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. I watched, still stunned and even more confused, as he swung his legs off the stool and went to the kitchen. He flung the refrigerator door open so hard it crashed into the wall, making me jump at the sudden noise.

  “Fucking hell,” he muttered and reached for a white carton of orange juice.

  The fridge door slammed shut, a kitchen cupboard was flung open, making the same banging sound the fridge had made moments before, and two glasses were slammed onto the countertop. I watched the whole thing, jaw slack and eyes wide, when he snapped his head up. His glare chilled the room further.

  “Want some juice?”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t thirsty. I was no longer hungry.

  He didn’t react to my answer, just filled a glass, slammed it back with one large gulp, and then repeated the same moves again with the slamming of the fridge door when he returned the carton.

  “I think I’m just going to head out,” I muttered, slinking off the stool when he prowled closer.

  He looked ready to brawl, and I didn’t know what to do, what to say, but whatever had made him so angry, I wasn’t the person he wanted to talk to about it. Chewing the inside of my lip, I went to move around him when his hand curled around my forearm and stopped me.

  “It has to do with a case, that’s all I can say.” I blinked at his hand on my arm and then forced myself to meet his eye.

  He was looking at the counter, not me.

  “Can’t talk about my cases, Blue.”

  Of course he couldn’t. That made sense. But I was also getting the sense that something else was at play, something bigger and something darker.

  Something I didn’t want any part of.

  “Okay,” I whispered, and his grip on my arm finally loosened enough so I could walk away from him. “But I do need to get going.” He said nothing as I left the room and went to his bedroom to get dressed.

  But I felt my steps grow heavier with every step I took.

  —

  I saw a shadow appear in the doorway before I heard Tyson. He knocked on the side of the doorframe and I looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. I was now dressed in my clothes from the night before, sans panties, and was drying my face with a towel. My skin screamed for moisturizer after I had washed off the remnants of yesterday’s makeup with simple hand soap, but I still felt better.

  “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” he said. His Adam’s apple dipped and his head fell forward as he sighed. “I meant what I said out there, I can’t talk about my cases.”

  “But you do know something about those girls.”

  “I have a client who is concerned about the disappearances of women, yes.”

  It was the truth in a lie. I could tell. Yet I also understood in a way.

  “You’re a lawyer, not an investigator, though,” I said, more to myself than him. I was missing a piece that would help his reaction make sense, but I still came up empty.

  “My grandfather knows powerful people,” Tyson said, as if that would help.

  I shook my head and dropped the subject. I wouldn’t get answers if he couldn’t give them, and he had made it clear that he couldn’t…or wouldn’t.

  “Okay.” I nodded, resigned to being left in the dark. He would tell me when he was ready, at least I hoped. I understood the need for confidentiality, but Tyson and I used to tell each other everything. If he was honest about wanting to begin a relationship with me again, then I had to trust he’d tell me what he could, when he could.

  “If you’re not still too angry with me,” he said, one side of his lips tilting into a grin, “would you like to shower with me?” He stepped forward, and I saw his anger ease from the darkness in his eyes.

  I spun around, leaned against the bathroom vanity, and shamelessly took him in, almost completely naked besides his boxers. A thick bulge in them made it obvious that the shower idea wasn’t solely for cleanliness purposes. I couldn’t resist.

  Perhaps, looking back, I could have.

  I just really didn’t want to.

  In the end, Tyson ended up late for work, and I was hours behind in my job searching. But I didn’t care. As he held me in his arms in the bathroom, drying me off after we showered, I asked him the one question that had been on the tip of my tongue when I first saw him that morning.

  “My father is hosting my family’s annual benefit next week,” I said, looking at him in the mirror’s reflection. His shoulders tightened fractionally and he stood up behind me, meeting my gaze.

  “Yes?”

  “I’d like you to go with me.”

  “You sure?” he asked, and his head tilted to the side.

  I understood the hesitancy. Before, when we were kids, I had to hide my relationship with him. He hated it, but understood.

  “I’m sure.”

  He was what I wanted. It was early in our relationship—or whatever this was turning out to be—and we’d both changed a lot in the last ten years. But I wanted to see where this could go, and it couldn’t go anywhere if I dated someone else to make my parents happy. My mom would understand.

  Eventually.

  Hopefully.

  With a brush of his lips against the side of my neck, and a twinkle in his dark blue eyes, Tyson smiled. “Okay, then. I’d love to go with you.”

  Chapter 12

  I hesitated at the threshold of Detroit Premier Agency, still uncertain if I wanted to be as forward as I was being, résumé in hand on Monday morning.

  My father had set this up for me, and as uncertain as I was about using my real name, being an assistant at the best event planning agency would open a multitude of doors for me. It would be foolish to pass up this opportunity simply due to pride.

  I blew out a breath and reached for the gold handle on the glass
door, gathering confidence as I pulled it open and entered. The main receptionist area was eerily silent, and the slight creaking of the door and my footsteps on padded carpet were the only noise as I entered. I barely had time to gather my breath before a flurry of blond hair hustled down the hallway. She stopped as soon as she saw me, hovering by the empty receptionist desk, and I instantly recognized Simone. She had planned a variety of my family’s events when I was younger, and I was always impressed with her beauty and professionalism.

  She quickly adjusted her hot pink eyeglasses on her slender nose and walked directly toward me.

  “You’re hired,” she stated, in a no-nonsense fashion as soon as she reached me. “Follow me. I already have your computer up and running, but I’ll need to teach you how to log in. I’ll also need to show you how to sync our calendars together and the protocol for answering phones—”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, aware that I was following her despite my shock.

  She paused, spun around, and I got a quick peek of red-painted soles on her shoes before I even recognized the designer pantsuit she wore. Simone Pillar was gorgeous. As a child she amazed me. As an adult, she intimidated me.

  “You are Gabriella Galecki, correct?”

  “I am.” I paused and held out my résumé. “My father said—”

  “I know your father.” She turned around and continued walking. With a quick wave of her hand, she beckoned me to follow.

  “He told me you’d be stopping by. I hope you can do basic office work. My assistant’s water broke in the middle of the night, two weeks earlier than her due date, and I currently have everyone in the office trying to handle her current tasks. I’ve been looking to hire someone because Monica had been preparing to quit her job once her baby was born. We just thought we had more time. Your appearance here this morning is fortuitous.”

  She stopped at a cubicle with walls that were just over waist high. Past the cubicle, I saw an office that I assumed was hers. Tables were cluttered with floral arrangements of various sizes. Fabric swatches covered a cream leather couch. “DPA” was stamped on the wall just behind the cubicle where she placed her hand.

  “Ms. Pillar—,” I started before she interrupted me.

  “Do you want the job?” Her eyes narrowed and I saw small flecks of brown in bright green eyes. “Your father told me you were looking.”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “I do…and I am. I’m just, surprised I guess.”

  She shrugged once and reached out, snapping the résumé from my hand. “Consider yourself my temporary employee. If you survive the first two weeks, we’ll discuss full employment. I’ll have my human resources administrator stop by in a few minutes to go over pay.” She waved her hand dismissively, as if I couldn’t care less about money.

  She was not entirely wrong, except…

  “I’d like to earn this job on merit,” I said.

  She eyed me speculatively, but I refused to fidget. I knew exactly what she saw. I was dressed in clothing that rivaled hers in brand and price, as I’d emptied most of my savings in order to purchase a professional wardrobe. My hair was just as immaculate and we were almost equally wealthy. Hers earned, mine given…but in that moment, it didn’t matter to her.

  “I promised your father a favor for all of his business over the years, and I do not generally do favors for people, despite how much I like them or how well I know them. You will not keep this job based on your name, so I’m willing to offer you the opportunity to earn permanent placement.”

  Even though I was effectively chastised, relief coursed through me. She was brutally honest, and I respected that. “Understood.”

  “Good. Then set your stuff down. I realize you weren’t planning on working today, but with your family’s benefit coming up next week and Monica going into labor early, I’m behind. I need you as quickly as you can be ready.”

  I set my purse on the top of the desk and smiled. “I’m ready.”

  Her lips twitched at the edges. The first hint of a smile on her hard features. “Good. Then let’s get to work.”

  —

  I worked all morning and through a rushed lunch break. Simone, along with the main receptionist, spent all morning explaining to me what had already been planned, what still needed to be finalized, and where her files were so I could contact the various vendors as well as ensure the RSVPs had all arrived.

  I hadn’t felt this energized since I had chased chickens on a farm.

  Pulling out my phone to check for any messages, I smiled when I saw a text from Tyson.

  Blackbird: Thinking of you. See you tonight?

  It was sent two hours ago. He’d spent most of the weekend working hard at his grandfather’s office, preparing some new case he had to deal with, and getting adjusted to his new job, too.

  We hadn’t seen each other since I left his house Thursday morning.

  I typed a quick reply and hit send.

  Would love to. Fireside Grill? Have to look at some apartments and I have news for you.

  Without waiting for his response, knowing he might not see it right away, I slipped my phone back into my purse so I wouldn’t be distracted.

  Throughout the afternoon, I sat in meetings with Simone about other upcoming events and answered the surprisingly complex phone system. On top of meeting Simone, I also met four of her other event planners, two more assistants, and the small IT department. It was a small office, but everyone was warm and welcoming. I quickly learned that while Simone was direct, sometimes even coming across as cold, she held the respect of everyone in the office, and they seemed to genuinely like her.

  I almost wanted to thank my father for tossing this opportunity right into my lap.

  By the time my workday was done, I was equal parts exhausted and thrilled as I picked up my purse and slung the strap over my shoulder.

  “There isn’t anything else you need from me today, is there?” I asked Simone, stopping at her doorway.

  Clicking fingers on the keyboard paused briefly enough to wave me off before they returned to rapid typing. “Nope. We’re good. Thank you.”

  I turned to leave when I heard her call my name again.

  “Yes?” I tilted my head and waited.

  Her hands paused on the keyboard and hovered. “I meant what I said earlier. I might be giving you this opportunity because of your father, but you’ll have to earn your spot.”

  I got it. I actually liked that. “Understood.”

  Her red lips stretched into a small smile. “I also want you to know that based on what you’ve shown me today, I have no doubt you’ll do just that.”

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice a bit breathy. Stress that I hadn’t realized I was carrying melted from shoulders.

  “Don’t thank me. Just continue to work hard. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Without another glance, her fingers began moving and her eyes refocused on her computer screen. Earlier, I had learned that she usually worked long into the night and was often at the office hours before anyone else. The woman was a workhorse.

  With a slight pep to my step, I left the office and boarded the elevator. As soon as I started my car, I grabbed my phone from my purse and checked the screen while I let the car cool down from the humid heat it had sat in all day.

  Three missed calls. One from my father. Two from Malik.

  One text from Tyson:

  Blackbird: Fireside at 7?

  I typed out a response letting him know I’d meet him there and then put the phone in my cup holder. My father and Malik could wait a while.

  I had a new home to go find.

  —

  The apartment was perfect. I spun in a slow circle, taking in the beautiful architecture of the old-style building. Peace flooded my veins. How was it possible that in a matter of hours, everything I had wanted seemed to be falling into place?

  This place felt like home.

  There wasn’t a single thing about this apartment, the first I’d seen, that didn
’t meet every qualification I had for a home. Secure entrance with a doorman—while I wanted my freedom, I knew my family had enemies. Security was important.

  The complex had been recently built but the architecture kept the feel of historic Latham Hills. Doorways were curved, the woodwork a deep, rich oak that could have come straight from the 1920s, but the kitchen was outfitted with the most top-of-the-line appliances, new cupboards, and a modern worktop. Everything about the place screamed elegance.

  I absolutely loved it.

  “I’ll take it.” Finishing my slow spin, I looked at the apartment manager.

  Nancy Maskin had been nothing but helpful and kind. “Excellent.” She opened a file folder filled with information along with a leasing contract. “We can take care of this now, if you’re not in a hurry.”

  “I’m not.” I was. It was getting close to seven and I was anxious to share all of my good fortune from the day with Tyson over a burger. This time, I was getting the one loaded with bacon. But I also wanted to get this taken care of. There were only two, two-bedroom apartments currently available and I didn’t want to lose one.

  I met Nancy at the kitchen island and pulled out my checkbook, ready to give her a deposit and first month’s rent after she rambled off her necessary spiel. It was only a few moments before I handed her my check, emptying the rest of my savings, and signed on several dotted lines.

  I did it.

  I just rented my first home. It was in a convenient location, close to the quaint downtown of Latham Hills as well as the freeway that would take me to downtown Detroit. With my father’s house on the south side of Detroit and my new, albeit temporary, office and Latham Hills on the northern edge, I was extending my commute to the house, but this place was worth it.

  “Thank you,” I told Nancy as we shook hands at the front door.

  My phone buzzed in my purse like it had done several times while I was touring the apartment but until then, I’d ignored it.

  “I’ll call you as soon as your approval goes through,” Nancy said. She locked the door behind us as we exited. “It should only be a day or two, but I don’t see anything stopping this.”