“In what capacity?” Millie asked.
“Well, our initial thought is to have Mia participate in regular segments on the show alongside Dr. Hoffman. She has the look and appeals to the younger audience.” Her gaze shot to Drew’s. “Not that you’re old, but you are twenty years her senior. Having a twenty-five-year-old weighing in on certain things, interviewing younger artists and celebrities, might really vamp up the show.”
I turned to Drew. “Doc, you’re okay with this? I mean, if what she’s talking about is true, you’d be sharing some air time with me in a way you’ve never done before. Are you sure that’s what you want?” I asked.
As much as I wanted to jump up and down and shout out, “Yes, pick me, pick me!” I had to consider that I’d be working with someone who had been a loner for a long time. This might not be something he was down for. And if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t work. He’d have it out for me, and I’d seen that ugly side of this business, It never went well.
Drew leaned forward and grabbed my hand with both of his. Inappropriate? Yes. Totally. Just like Drew? The unknowing bastard as Leona put it? Absolutely. “Mia, darling, it was my idea.”
I cast a glance at Leona, and she nodded, pursing her lips.
“Why?” I asked, somewhat hushed.
He slid back after patting my hand twice. “I’m not getting any younger. No, I’m not ancient, but there are things I still want to do. Spend time with my wife for example.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “You’ve seen her.”
Chuckling, I nodded.
“Also, I’ve been out of the medical community for too long, aside from the general celebrity clientele I make it a point to see when needed. It’s making me rusty. If we get to the point six months to a year from now where you can take on half the load, I can do more, consult on special cases, expand my clientele, etcetera. Really, it’s a win-win. And with you being a rising star…sky’s the limit, darling.”
Man, I hated when he called me darling. It always sounded icky even though I know he meant it as a compliment.
“If, and that’s a big if, Mia is interested in doing this, we’ll need numbers, work hours, travel commitments, and pay detailed out. There’s only one more week in the month.” Millie’s voice rang over the clacking of her nails against the keys. “I’m setting up engagements for Mia now for November and December. If you want her to consider this, I’ll need your proposal by tomorrow afternoon.”
I narrowed my eyebrows, looking at the phone as if it would clarify the load of horseshit Auntie just spewed. I knew for a fact she wasn’t making any arrangements because I told her once I was done with this month, I wasn’t taking anything else on. I’d pay Max back and figure it out, though this offer was my dream. A regular spot on a daytime television program? Steady work doing something I loved? Twisting my hands into fists below the table, I prayed Millie knew what she was doing and didn’t screw this opportunity up for me. Faith. I had to have faith. She’d gotten me this far. There was no reason to believe she wouldn’t consider my best interests for the future as well.
Leona cocked her head to the side as if considering the timeline Millie set. “Fine. I’ll get my team working on it now. You’ll have it to you by close of business tomorrow.”
“Excellent. If there isn’t anything else, I’m going to bid you all adieu. Mia, dollface, we’ll chat later tonight. I’ll call you.”
“Thanks Au-—, uh, Ms. Milan,” I corrected. They didn’t need to know our little secret. Mostly because it was none of their business.
The line clicked off and I stood. “So I can get back to work?”
Leona smiled and stood, putting out her hand. “I hope we’ll be congratulating you on being a part of the official Century Productions family very soon.”
I grinned and shuffled over to the door. Once I grabbed the handle, I stopped and turned around. Three sets of eyes watched, waiting for me to speak. “You know, this year has been the strangest and most surprising of my life, but not until today did I feel like, career-wise, I was in the right place, doing what I was supposed to do. Thank you for giving me an idea of what I want out of my professional life.”
Leona pushed a curl back behind her ear and raised an eyebrow. “The question now is, do you believe that the year brought you here for a reason? And furthermore, does that mean your place is working here with us, on this show?” I could tell by the tightness in her jaw, by how straight she held her spine as she stood, that my answer meant something to her.
Without even taking a moment to think about it, I answered, “For now, and for the foreseeable future, yes, I do. I can’t wait to get to work!” I shrugged, pulled open the door, closed it behind me, and skipped to the elevator that would lead me back to Wes and the segment we were working on together. He was going to trip out when I told him the good news. I’d be staying in Malibu, I had a job offer, and at some point, I’d be marrying the man of my dreams. From nothing to something in the span of ten months. Incredible.
* * *
Wes was insanely happy for me. We celebrated by drinking too much champagne, making love on the open beach where we started our morning surfing, and tumbling salty and sandy into our big bed. Wes did have twisted dreams that night, only his response was very different.
I felt him startle awake but there was no scream. Still, I knew the routine, so I moved to jump out of our bed, talk him off his cliff, and then love him with every inch of my body until the only thing left in his head was us and our love, but he stopped me with a forcible lock of his arm around my waist. He was hard as a rock against my bum, and without thinking, I tilted my hips, brushing against it. He hissed, his breath flitting across the shell of my ear, taunting me into submission.
“Sweetheart, I’m fine.” His tone was harsh, but the fact that he used an endearment was a plus.
“Do you love me?” I asked instantly. It had worked every other time, but something had changed tonight, almost as if the script or routine had been rewritten.
Wes’s hand moved down, and he cupped my sex. Instantly, wetness coated his fingers when he pushed two of them inside me.
I moaned low and deep. “Baby…do you love me?” I asked again.
He bit down on my shoulder, pushing the satin string down to fall against my bicep. “Yes. I love every fucking inch of you. I love fucking you. I fucking love you,” he growled and pushed another finger in, impaling three thick digits into the heart of me, over and over. I arched into his ministrations and reached behind me to loop an arm around his neck.
“Where are you, baby?” I asked through the haze of lust, my hips moving in counterpoint to his shallow thrusts.
“In you,” he responded while licking up my neck. His other hand came around and held my chin aloft.
Like a ninja, he twisted and pushed me face down into the mattress, his blessed fingers gone. I groaned my irritation.
He was answering every question I asked, but his tone, the way he went about it, was all wrong. With unbelievable accuracy, he yanked my hips up so I was supporting my weight on my knees when he plowed into me. I cried out, screamed rather. Even though he’d worked me up, I was nowhere near ready for the spike of steel between his legs. His cock was hard as stone and unrelenting as he slammed into me.
“Gonna take you over and over, sweetheart. Need it. Need your sweet cunt. Need your wetness. It’s so dry, so fucking dry. I can’t breathe!” He pounded into me, leaning over. “No moisture. You’re my oasis in this hell hole,” he murmured while biting into the skin of my lower back. He bit down so hard I shrieked, but he only bit harder.
It stung so bad, but at the same time, his dick was hitting that spot inside that made me keen. Over and over, he battled his demons with every brutal thrust, taking me higher and higher.
“Get me out of here, sweetheart. Take me away,” he begged.
It was too much—the pressure, the sting, the accuracy of every press and release into my body. I couldn’t stop my body’s response. I orgasmed, m
y pussy clutching him hard, but he didn’t stop and didn’t release. Over and over he powered into me until he took me over the edge again and again. He was mindless in his pursuit of my pleasure, but he didn’t come.
Finally after the fourth time of shooting into the stratosphere, I collapsed down to the mattress, but he held tight to my hips. “No! Need you. Need you to make it go away,” he cried out, sobbing through it.
With energy I didn’t know I had left in me, I pushed back, kneeling on my knees, impaled on his cock. He tried to push me back down but instead I bumped him back. His dick finally left me as he fell to his ass. I turned around and straddled him, pushing my knees against his thighs and my hands against his biceps. It was like one of those bug displays where the butterfly was pinned to the board. I had my guy pinned. He was so exhausted he allowed it. Thank God.
Tears streamed down his face as he shook his head from left to right. His skin was covered in sweat.
I got really close to his face. “Look at me!” I spoke loud enough to break through the noise of his sobs. His eyes shot open. Pupils fully dilated. Just as I suspected, he was locked deep into the flashback.
“Wes!” I was yelling. “Come. Back. To. Me.” I kissed his lips and each time gave him love, stability, and his home. I could feel him start to participate more, until finally, his fingers tunneled into my hair holding my head, our lips hovering over one another. “Mia…you’re paradise,” he whispered against my lips, licking the bruised flesh.
“Wes…” I kissed him with every ounce of love I had. Deep, tongue tangling, lip bruising, soul affirming presses, until I said the one thing that sealed it. “Remember me, Wes. Baby, remember us,” I whimpered and his eyes flashed open. Nothing but green orbs the color of fresh cut grass on a sunny morning.
“Nothing will ever make me forget you, Mia. Forget us. You’re my forever. The only reason to fight this is for you…my personal paradise.”
“Baby, I love you,” I choked over the emotion swelling in my chest.
“God, Mia, saying I love you isn’t enough.”
With his lips, he proceeded to tell me what he couldn’t say.
Thank you. His kissed my forehead.
Thank you. He kissed the apples of my cheeks.
Thank you. He kissed my neck.
Thank you. He kissed my lips.
He repeated this circuit until everything disappeared and we were on an island nestled deep within the safety of our love. Nothing could break that paradise. Nothing.
Chapter Ten
The building was tall, ridiculously ostentatious inside, and filled with businessmen and women in smart suits that probably cost more than my motorcycle. Wes gripped my hand so tight I kept wringing it until he’d loosen his hold. Our palms were moist and sticking together as we walked through the building’s cavernous lobby to the elevators. I scanned the directory and pressed seven. Lucky number seven. One could only hope.
“Why are we here?” Wes sighed and leaned against the back of the elevator.
I huffed and leaned into him. “You know why. It’s time.”
“I’m fine,” he grated through his teeth.
Tipping my head, I cocked a hip and stared into his eyes. “Really? We’re having this conversation again? Because last night, I don’t think you were the one that had a hand around her neck, was pinned down while the man she loves went for her hoo-hah.”
Wes’s nostrils flared, and he ground down on his teeth so hard I could hear the slight grinding sound of his teeth coming together. “You know I would never hurt you.”
I got up close, pressed my chest to his, cupped his cheeks, and forced him to look at me. “Intentionally, no, I don’t think you would. But you aren’t always the man I wake up to. Sometimes, it’s the man who’s fighting for his life, the man who watched a woman he cared for brutalized daily, the man who, for a month, has used sex to put a Band-Aid over the gaping black hole in his heart. Baby…”
Wes wrapped his arms around me. “I’m doing this for you. Because I can’t fathom the thought of hurting you. I don’t want to ever repeat last night. It was lower than low. I don’t even know how you can look at me, let alone stand by my side. I’m so goddamned selfish. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you with me. Please don’t leave, Mia.”
Exhaling all the air in my lungs, I kissed his neck. “I’m never leaving you.”
The elevator chimed and the doors opened. We exited hand-in-hand, together but wounded. Last night was the last straw for me.
We made it to the frosted door that had Anita Shofner, Psychologist written in bold black block letters. I opened the door and entered a waiting area. In the corner was a receptionist’s desk where a woman who could have doubled as Angela Lansbury sat. She looked up with cool blue eyes, and her entire face warmed as we entered.
“Um, we have an appointment with Dr. Shofner.”
She smiled, picked up a clipboard and handed it to me. “Here you go. Go ahead and fill this out and the doctor will be with you in”—she looked up at the clock; it was a quarter to four—“the next fifteen minutes. Typically, a session finishes up about five minutes ’til.”
I nodded and led Wes over to a set of firm arm chairs. I helped him fill out the paperwork even though he was perfectly capable. The tension surrounding him could be cut with a knife, it was so thick. I rubbed his forearm while his knee bounced. Seeing him so anxious was new. I’d seen Wes in all different settings but never in one where he was openly uncomfortable. Downright leery even.
I twined our fingers together, brought his hand up to my lips, and kissed the back of his hand. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’ll be in there with you. If, after fifteen minutes, you still feel uncomfortable, we’ll bail. Okay?”
He inhaled deeply and let it out. “Okay. It’s fine. I just…I hate what happened, and continuing to talk about it makes me think that it’s going to bring it back even worse.”
I shrugged. “That very well may be, but in the end, it should give you some closure, help you heal so that it eventually becomes part of your past and not your present.” I was spinning a line of bullshit so thick I could hardly see in front of me. I had no idea what seeing a shrink that specializes in post-traumatic stress disorder would do for him, but every single person I’d chatted with swore by it. Said he had to get help, work it out. I thought I was doing a good job reminding him of what he had, loving him openly, but in the end, maybe it was part of the problem. Only thing I knew for sure was that last night was bad. Really bad, and I never wanted to experience that again or be afraid to lie down next to the man I loved again.
The door opened and, to my surprise, Gina DeLuca walked out. She hadn’t noticed us yet, but when Wes noticed her, his hands tightened painfully around my fingers, cutting off all circulation. Gina was speaking in a hushed voice, wiping her eyes with a wad of tissues she held. The woman next to her was rubbing a hand up and down her bicep, and then, methodically, she pulled her into a hug. The doctor consoled and hugged her. Yep. That’s all I needed to see to know that this was the right place. She operated on love and compassion, and that’s exactly what my guy needed.
Gina turned around and stopped abruptly. Her wet eyes lit up, and a wide smile split across her lips. “Weston, you came.” She shook her head and held her arms out. He moved to her on autopilot, pulling her into a big hug. A pang of irritation that he had to touch her at all rippled down my spine. I clenched my hands into fists to hold back the ridiculous jealousy that surfaced every time I saw the actress. It was unreasonable, I knew, but I couldn’t help it.
Wes stepped back, and Gina gave me a tentative wave. “So you’ve finally agreed to take my advice and see Dr. Shofner. That is so great. She’s been a godsend to me. Call me later in the week if you want to talk about, you know”—her shoulders slumped, and her expression went from jovial to defeated in a split second—“uh…anything that she wants you to work on. Not that you need help but, ugh…” She shook her hands as if they were wet and pum
ped them. Finally, she sucked in a breath. “Anyway, good luck. I hope she helps you as much as she has me.”
Then she was off, racing out the door like her heels were on fire. Yep, my jealously was sorely misplaced. That woman was broken in every way and needed the friendly face Wes provided. There was nothing between them but trauma at this point.
Wes cast a glance at me, his eyes sad and remorseful. I held his hand. “Nothing you could do. Let’s see about this doctor, eh?”
He closed his eyes and nodded. We turned around and the doctor held the door open. “You must be Weston Channing and Mia Saunders. Please do come in.”
We entered the room, and the scent of vanilla hit my senses. A cream-colored candle in the corner was lit, offering a comforting scent that went well with the room. An entire wall to the left was filled floor to ceiling with books. Neatly lined medical texts along with a few rows of fiction titles I recognized and another holding the greats.
During my time with Warren, I had gotten a lot of reading in. Same with Alec. Both men were huge lovers of the tomes, and I’d discovered a quick fascination for the classics. Books I’d not bothered to read during high school like Great Expectations by Dickens, Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare gave me an escape into another time where things should have been simpler but weren’t. Living life was filled with people, relationships, love and fear. As with anything in life, no matter what era, everything revolved around the simple act of love or the fear of something unknown.
The doctor’s desk, an enormous antique cherry wood desk with round legs and beveled edges, sat along the back wall. It looked sturdy enough to need more than two men to lift it if the doctor wanted to work on her feng shui. On the right wall was a sitting area with a coffee table. A long striped couch in shimmery golds and whites faced into the room. Two high-back reading chairs faced the couch, creating a cozy vibe I appreciated.
“Please, have a seat.” Dr. Shofner gestured to the sitting area.
Calendar Girl: October: Book 10 Page 10