Loved by You (Taken by You Book Three)

by M. L. Young

  “Most of the negative press has seemed to reverse as the new tips and workshop for self-defense is lightening everyone up. People are shifting their focus back onto us, and in a good way,” Nina said.

  “Great. Is there anything else we need to discuss today?” I asked as I looked around the room.

  Nobody raised their hand or said a word, instead shaking their heads no, before I thanked them for the updates and left the room to get back to my office, where I knew I had a heaping pile of papers and files to sort through today. The work never seemed to stop, no matter how badly I wanted it to.

  “Good morning, Mr. Hunter, sir,” Grace said as I walked up to her desk.

  “Good morning, Grace,” I said, opening my door.

  “Your mother called for you. Would you like me to patch her through?” Grace asked.

  “No, thank you, though. I’ll handle it,” I said before entering my office.

  I didn’t have much contact with my mother. It wasn’t that things were bad between us, but I just never felt incredibly close to her or my father. I took care of everyone in my family, the older and disabled ones, anyway, but I didn’t receive the warmth and love as a child that I felt I needed. Maybe that was why I’d turned into the person I was before I met Penny. Maybe my childhood explained a lot about me and the man I became.

  I took out my cell phone and loaded my contacts before coming across my mom’s entry and clicking it to dial. It connected and the phone began to ring as I stood in front of my windows, my left hand in my pocket as my right hand firmly held the phone.

  “Hello?” my mother asked.

  “Hello, Mom,” I said.

  “Oh, Blake, honey! I’m so glad you could call me back,” she said in an overtly ecstatic voice.

  “Of course, Mom. How are things? Do you need something?” I asked.

  “Oh, no, things are good. I’m being well taken care of here. I just wanted to talk to you. I miss your voice. I saw you in the newspaper, you know,” she said.

  “I miss your voice as well. What was I in there for?” I asked.

  “That, what do you call it, self-defense thing you have going on for the ladies. Oh, it’s so nice. I’m so happy you thought of that to help those women,” she said.

  “It’s my pleasure, Mom. I like giving back and helping out,” I said, clearing my throat.

  Talks with my mother were never exciting, but I thought they were for her. Part of me wanted to believe that she felt guilty about the way things were and had been over the years and she was trying to change that before the time came when she no longer could. I didn’t blame her for being a bad mother, and I’d gotten over it, but I didn’t think she had or ever would. I think she still wanted to believe that there was some ray of hope for us. I lost that shred of hope a long time ago, and I wasn’t sure there was a way to regain it.

  “Talking about ladies, do you have a lady in your life? I’d love to get grandchildren before I croak,” she said in jest.

  “Well, I can’t promise you grandchildren, but yes, I am seeing someone,” I said.

  “That’s wonderful, dear! What’s her name?” she asked.

  I could hear the enthusiasm and excitement in her voice. I never saw anybody, at least not officially, except for her, the last woman, the woman who changed everything. That was so long ago that I think my mother was starting to wonder if I’d ever be with someone again. I guess I had to show her things were okay.

  “Her name is Penelope. She’s a nice girl. I think you could meet her soon. If you want to, that is,” I said.

  “Of course! Your father and I would just love to meet her. Are you bringing her by?” she asked.

  “Eventually, yes. Maybe in a few weeks? We both have some work to square away, but I’m fairly positive we’ll be coming out,” I said.

  “You just made my entire year, you know that? I wish you could see me. I’m absolutely beaming,” she said.

  “Me too, Mom,” I said as I looked down.

  “Blake, honey, your aunt Karen is calling. Is it okay if I let you go?” my mother asked.

  “Yes, I’ll talk to you later,” I said.

  “Goodbye. I love you,” she said.

  “You too, Mom,” I said before hanging up.

  I set my phone down and took a deep breath before holding it in for a few seconds and exhaling slowly. Why was this so damn difficult? Why couldn’t I be like the scores of other people who had a relationship with their parents? A real one, not the one I had. Sure, I had it better than some people who had no relationship with their parents whatsoever, if they even knew their parents, but I wanted it to be better. I guess at my age it was pretty much a pipe dream. I was lucky to have living parents, as I knew some of my peers didn’t.

  Left with only my thoughts, I sorted through my work for the day and made a few business calls. The morning was early, far too early, though I suppose business never really sleeps.

  A few hours later, closer to lunch, I received a special text that made my mood a little bit better.

  “I miss you,” it read.

  So simple, that text, yet so powerful, even though it was only three words. Penny had a way of doing that, of taking my mind off other things, even if she wasn’t trying to. I could depend on that sanity at just the right moments, as if she were sitting behind me and watching what I was doing, just waiting until the perfect moment to give me her encouraging words.

  I really was lucky to have her in my life again. I knew it would be the last time we’d ever have to go through a situation like we had twice before, and I hoped that meant we weren’t going to spilt apart again. It was so grueling, breaking up, and I thought it affected me just as much as it did her. Hell, maybe it hurt me a little bit more than it hurt her. I’d gotten so attached, at least as much as I could.

  I reciprocated her message, telling her I missed her even more, to which she replied that it wasn’t possible. She missed me way more than I missed her, and as I wrote out and sent my rebuttal on why I missed her more, it hit me. We were becoming a couple. A real couple. Not just one who were together, but one who dreamt of being together. The cutesy type of couple I’d never really been, even before, though I guess I was okay with it.

  I’d never really thought about it much before, being that type of guy in that kind of relationship, but I couldn’t say that it was horrible. It was, for lack of a better word, nice.

  Grace brought in my lunch, a California club with extra bacon, a side salad, and baked chips as I took out a bottle of water from the small fridge in my office. I told her to take an extended lunch if she wanted, an extra half-hour, to which she seemed very happy and grateful. That girl worked a ton and did a good job, so I thought she deserved an extra break.

  I sat and texted Penny while I leisurely ate my lunch and flipped through the news on my computer. The markets were up in Asia, which was nice considering I had many investments there. I did a search for the company and myself, coming up with a bunch of articles corresponding to the stuff I was told in my meetings earlier today, which was always a good sign. I didn’t think my staff expected me to search these things, so it was nice to know that they weren’t lying to me and telling me what I wanted to hear while secretly dealing with crises.

  As I finished my lunch and wiped off my hands, I texted Penny and let her know that I was going to be out of commission for a few hours while I worked. She said okay, and sent me some kissy faces. I locked my phone, a smile on my face, and got back to work.

  That girl was something else, that was for sure.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Penelope

  “I fucking hate the prick,” Nicolette exclaimed as she walked through our apartment door and slammed it behind her.

  “What happened?” I asked, in shock. I was damn glad I wasn’t that guy.

  “I went out with Mike, the so called ‘good guy,’ and he led me on before telling me that he thought we should see other people,” she said.

  “What? Why? You two were
doing good,” I said.

  “He said he wanted to explore other options and not be tied down to just one girl. What a load of shit. He told me the complete opposite a week ago. I think he just met some stupid slut who spread her legs full eagle. Whatever. I don’t need him,” she said, grabbing a beer from the fridge and walking over towards me.

  She sat on the couch beside me, curled up, and put her head on my shoulder as the glow from the television screen illuminated us in the otherwise fairly dark room. I felt a little bad for her, knowing what I had and she craved, though I guess in a way it was her own fault. After all, she did just talk to any guy who was attractive enough and would give her the time of day, even though she knew nothing about them and had nothing in common with them. It was like she was so happy just to have somebody into her that she’d toss everything else aside to get that attention. I hated it and I hated seeing her like this.

  “Well, I just want you to know that any guy would be lucky to have you. You’re a great girl and I know you have a lot to offer somebody,” I said.

  “Yeah, right. If that were the case, guys would be dying to see me and date me,” she said.

  I could tell she was annoyed, pissed, and hurt, so I knew not to rock the boat and start any kind of argument with her. She was a hardheaded woman anyway, so it was best not to keep pushing in her face how good and great she was. She wouldn’t believe it anyway, at least not right now.

  “You just haven’t found the right guy. He’ll come, I know it,” I said.

  “I hope. I’m not sure how many more losers I can go through before that time comes, though. You’re lucky—having Blake, and having that kind of love I can only dream of. Hopefully my billionaire prince comes soon. Oh, maybe he’ll be a real prince. Yeah, I’d like that,” she said, perking up a little.

  “Me too, Nicolette. Me too,” I said.

  I awoke to knocking on the front door as Nicolette was getting ready for work.

  “Who could that be?” she asked as she walked over and looked out the peephole.

  She unlocked and opened the door to the grocery delivery guys standing there with bags of groceries at their feet.

  “I didn’t hear you buzz,” Nicolette said in a confused voice.

  “An older woman was leaving and let us in. If you could please sign this, I’d greatly appreciate it,” the man said.

  “Here,” I said, walking over and signing their sheet.

  “Would you like us to bring the bags inside?” the guy asked.

  “No, thank you, we have it,” I said with a friendly smile.

  “Okay, have a good day!” the man said, and they turned around and left.

  “One good thing about you dating Blake is this. I love free food,” Nicolette said as she grabbed two of the canvas bags and brought them into the kitchen.

  I grabbed the other two and locked the door behind me before putting my bags down and starting to unload them. I’d forgotten all about Blake sending us some more food. He’d told me through text last night that he was ordering some, but I couldn’t believe it came already.

  “Blake doesn’t have any friends, does he?” Nicolette asked from the bathroom.

  “Of course he has friends,” I said.

  “No, I mean friends who are single. You know. Friends,” she said, sticking her head out the doorway.

  “Oh, I’m not sure about that. I guess I can bring it up to him sometime if you want,” I said.

  “Please and thank you. Maybe I’m not the problem, but just where I’ve been looking. I need to up my game a little bit,” she said before turning on the blow dryer.

  Blake, being big on whole foods and not eating things that were too processed, had sent me many of the same things he liked to eat, which wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t exactly my taste, either. I didn’t mind chips, sugary snacks, and toaster pastries. In fact, I kind of liked them. I knew it wasn’t the healthiest diet, but I wasn’t trying to get on the front of any fitness magazines anytime soon. All Blake sent me were fruits, vegetables, and premade meals that looked so healthy I knew they wouldn’t have the same taste as my normal fare.

  After putting away my food, I looked at the clock and whispered an obscenity before running into my room and changing my clothes. My hair looked greasy and unkempt, a result of a third day not washing it, calling for a quick spray of dry shampoo and a ponytail to look somewhat presentable for class.

  I grabbed my notebook, books, and phone before stuffing them all in my bag and telling Nicolette goodbye for the day. I couldn’t believe I’d slept in that long. I’d swear my alarms never went off.

  I sped down the stairs like a madwoman before running outside to the bus stop. It was just pulling away as I waved my arms and through some kind of miracle, it stopped and the doors opened. I’d never been so lucky. I found a seat, the last one available, and caught my breath before checking my phone and e-mail. Six spam messages, mostly about clothing sales. I deleted all of them even though I desperately wanted to look through them and gaze at what I couldn’t have.

  The bus let off and I ran out the doors and past the other riders before getting inside the building and seeing I had about five minutes until my class started. Walking slower, though still a little quickly, I went up a few flights of stairs and got into my class with barely any time to spare. I sat down in an open seat, unpacked my books, and caught my breath as the professor started writing on the whiteboard.

  The lesson, which was about operative conditioning, was rather interesting, even if my professor didn’t do the best job conveying that. It started to make me wonder if I could ever fall for something like that. I’d like to think I was too smart to be conditioned, but then again I was sure all the subjects thought the same thing when they were experimented on. They were probably just as cocky as I was right now, and that was their downfall.

  My focus naturally shifted to whether I could condition another person, or if they’d see right through my games. I wasn’t the best liar, and in a way conditioning kind of felt like lying, even if it wasn’t exactly like it. I’d be withholding information from them and bending their will, in a sense. Maybe it was best to let the professionals deal with this.

  My hand started to cramp as I scribbled down my notes as fast as I could. A few other people in class used their laptops to type notes, which made me wonder if I should start bringing my laptop to my classes. It seemed a bit sad I only thought of it now, a few months before graduation, instead of when I first got here, but I supposed there was nothing I could do about that now.

  I took a few breaks from writing, hoping my memory would be strong enough to remember everything my professor was saying, even though I knew some of the information would likely fall through the cracks. It always did.

  After taking three pages of notes and trying to remember the rest, the class was over and I could breathe a short sigh of relief and ice my hand in preparation for the next time I needed to write like this.

  “And don’t forget to start on your papers for the end of the semester. I know it’s a bit away, but I need to approve your topic before you can start. Failure to get my written permission will result in an automatic failure for the assignment. It’s also forty percent of your grade, so there will be no way to pass without getting it done. Have a good rest of your day.”

  My final semester in school and of course I had some massive paper to get done. It seemed only fitting that it’d happen to me. Maybe Blake could help me think of a topic. He was smart.

  Speaking of Blake, I had a date with him later tonight at his place, and I couldn’t wait. He’d invited over two friends, another couple, to join us so that we could double. Being included in his world and meeting his friends was enough proof for me that things were moving in the right direction. A guy, especially one like Blake, wouldn’t bring his friends over to meet me if he didn’t see something with me. I knew that we were going forward, and the things we did to one another before were behind us.

  After sitting through
a quiz and another lecture, I took the bus home, went up to the apartment, and pulled a pineapple-mango smoothie that Blake had sent over from the fridge. I took a few sips, puckered at how tart it was, and put it back before I sucked my cheeks. I didn’t know how he ate this healthy stuff.

  “Are you nervous? What if they’re pricks?” Nicolette asked as I got ready.

  “They won’t be. Blake likes them a lot and only had nice things to say about them,” I said.

  “Yeah, because they’re in his world. They’re likely rich themselves, and they probably only hang around other people of their status. You aren’t that, far from it, actually. I’m just afraid that you won’t have anything in common with them,” Nicolette said.

  “I don’t have to have a lot in common with them. It isn’t as if we’re all going to become best friends. It’s just a nice dinner with another couple. It’s something you do when you’re with someone. I probably won’t ever see them again outside of another dinner date,” I said.

  “Whatever you say. Just remember to act snooty and rich. I bet they’ll respond well,” she said.

  I rolled my eyes and finished curling my hair before spraying myself with some rose perfume and going to get my shoes and bag. Gustav was set to be here within ten minutes, per his text, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t keep him waiting. I just wanted to make sure I got to Blake’s place before the other two got there. It’d be a little awkward to be the last person there.

  “Okay, I better get going,” I said as I grabbed my coat and slipped it on.

  I felt so boring wearing the same black dress over and over, but I didn’t really have much else to wear, at least in a social situation like this. Blake said it wouldn’t be super casual and to wear a dress, so this was all I could really do. Maybe I should see if he’d buy me a new one so that I didn’t always look the same. I was sure someone someday would notice I always wore the same dress to his date nights and events.