by K. A. Linde
It reminded him of his parents, and it scared him shitless. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t let himself feel this. He couldn’t let it sweep him away. But she swept him away.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he reluctantly shut the front door before he answered. “Hello?”
“Jack?” Danielle called into the phone. Her voice was shaky and cracked when she had said his name.
He could hear her tears through the line. She sounded like she had been crying for a while. He wanted to be angry with her. She had been bitchy after all, but just the way she had said his name sounded pitiful.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Jack, baby, oh my God, what did we just do? I’m so, so, so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything like that to you. I never want a break. I love you. I love you so much.” She broke down into tears again, and he waited for her to recover herself. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. You’re my world. I can’t live without you.”
“Danielle…” he said awkwardly, thinking about Lex’s lips on him all over again.
“Please, please, please, Jack! I could never live without you. Ever. I’ll come up this weekend and visit. I don’t care if I have to be all alone most of the time. It will all be as it was. Don’t force this break for no reason!” she blubbered. Her tears came heavier, and he sighed. “At least, let me talk to you in person. You owe me that much, Jack.”
“Danielle…”
“I’ll come up on Friday. We should talk about it. Please, Jack!” she gasped out.
“All right. All right. We’ll talk,” he groaned, hating this whole thing.
He hated when girls cried. Danielle knew he hated it, and she was using the waterworks to her advantage.
Danielle continued to talk in his ear, but he barely heard her. What was he doing?
He was pretty sure his future had just walked out that door.
The End.
Ramsey’s Point of View
The First Time Ramsey Meets Lexi
CHAPTER 1
GET OUT
“Bek, come on. I know who I am looking for,” Ramsey said impatiently into the phone. He was ready to be back in Atlanta now that his vacation was practically over. He had business he needed to take care of with his clubs. In particular, a certain Valentine that he had just hired.
“You just can’t fuck this up for me. Daddy wanted me to do the interview, but you were already in New York. It made more sense,” Bekah said.
“I got it,” he grumbled, running his hand across the rumpled hotel sheets. The cleaning crew better come to his room before tonight. It would be awkward if he brought a girl here, and it still smelled like the last. “Anything else?”
“No. But will you please pay more attention to the interview than your next conquest? I know the company matters to you so much,” she drawled sarcastically, “but you’ll be surprised to find out that it still matters to some people. Me, mostly.”
“And we all know what really matters,” he said, walking across the room, sitting in a chair that looked out across Central Park, and crossing his leg over his knee at the ankle.
“Oh, shut up,” she snapped.
Ramsey smiled. He could practically see Bekah rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. She was so easy to rile up.
Bekah continued when he didn’t say anything else. “I can’t believe you’re insisting on doing this in a club, as if you don’t spend enough time in them.” The disdain was apparent.
“It’s where I’m most comfortable.” Which was true. He spent more time in his clubs now than anywhere. After Parker had left, there hadn’t been anything for him. Now he had the clubs, and most of the time they were the only thing that mattered.
Bekah scoffed. “Then so be it. Just remember call me later to tell me how the interview went. I have to go,” she responded, clicking off of the line without waiting for his response.
Typical Bekah.
“How lovely,” he said, stuffing his Blackberry into his suit coat pocket.
Ramsey picked up the drink he had left forgotten on the table after Bekah called. The ice sloshed through the whiskey and clinked against the edge of the glass as he twirled it in his hand. He tipped the glass up to his lips and tilted the liquor into his mouth. The whiskey slid easily down his throat, and he wished for at least the fifth time tonight that he had gotten something a little smoother. He didn’t always care for finest things in life, despite how he had been raised, but whiskey was a resounding exception. He wasn’t even sure why he had ordered this drink from room service, when he was going out soon. Maybe it just helped him drown out everything else in his life. Drown out her.
“Who were you talking to, darling?” a voice crooned from the bathroom.
“Really none of your business,” he responded sharply. He took another drink and as he took a look at the woman standing before him, he remembered all over again why he had ordered it.
“Was it your wife?” A tall, leggy blonde in nothing but a towel peered around the corner of the bathroom. She had flawless milky skin, long lean legs that didn’t even touch at the tops of her thighs, and full fake breasts that peeked out of the top of the towel. Her lips were pouty and eyes wide and a light blue almost grey color.
“Wouldn’t you like it if it was?” he drawled. He had to refrain from rolling his eyes. This type of woman kind of disgusted him, and he wasn’t sure what that said about himself.
“Oh, so you are married,” she said, as if it didn’t surprise her in the least.
“Hardly.”
The girl shrugged. She actually didn’t care one way or another. “Suit yourself. Are we going out?”
“I have work. We aren’t going anywhere,” he said curtly, staring at her with a blank expression on his face.
“What do you do anyway?” she asked, ignoring his statement. Her blonde hair flopped to one side, and she managed to look completely incompetent. She had clearly spent her entire life using her giant boobs to get her way. Well, it had worked on him for a solid afternoon. Good enough.
“Please, get out,” he said, pointing at the door.
“What?”
“Out. Get out of my hotel room.”
“But…I don’t understand,” she said, her eyes wide.
“I’m sure you understand very little, but I think get out is in your vocabulary.”
“Asshole,” she said, dropping her towel shamelessly to the floor. She strode casually across the room and reached ever so slowly for her clothes piled neatly on a chair. She changed back into the dress and heels she had been wearing that afternoon, when Ramsey had picked her up all too easy at the bar in the restaurant down the block. With how slow she was moving and the way she was twisting her body so that he had full view of all of her finer assets, she obviously thought he would change his mind or something. Not very bright indeed.
The woman took her time walking across the room, and Ramsey managed to control himself enough not to stand and force her out. She opened the door and looked over her shoulder at him. Her hair fanned around her face seductively.
“Are you sure you don’t want another round, baby?” she purred.
“I’d rather use my own hand then have you remain in this hotel room.”
Her shocked face was enough to make him smile as she stormed out of his hotel room and slammed the door to his suite. He finished his drink, and then stood and phoned downstairs for a town car.
CHAPTER 2
PIE
Ramsey had a friend from Atlanta working at a club nearby, and it seemed like the ideal place for the interview that he was doing for his father’s company, Bridges Enterprise. Ever since he had acquired his own clubs, he had become a complete and total night owl and frequently grew anxious as daylight dragged on. He loved his job working and managing the nightclubs and strip clubs that he had forced into prominence in the Atlanta nightlife.
Primarily, he had decided to come to New York because his long time friend, Matt Hammond, was in
the city from Las Vegas for the weekend. He hadn’t seen him in about six months and Ramsey found it easier to fly to New York than to visit him in Vegas regularly.
Then he had got suckered into helping Bekah out. How did she always manage to do that?
The lobby was bustling as patrons filtered in and out of the massive extravagant hotel. Ignoring the crowd, Ramsey passed through the mass. He caught the eye of an attractive brunette talking to the bellhop and smiled like she was going to be dessert. She noticed him, looking him up and down appreciatively, and smiled back. Yep, Armani had been a good choice.
The drive to the club wasn’t that bad. He had wanted to be there early for the interview anyway so that he could meet up with his friend, Lacy. He hadn’t seen her in a couple months, and the woman knew how to pour drinks. He had been sad to see her leave Atlanta, but bartenders came and went.
A line had already formed in front of the club, which was a good sign for Ramsey. His name was already on the list as well as the guy that he was supposed to be meeting to interview. He approached the bouncer confidently, ignoring the long line of annoyed people staring him down.
“Ramsey Bridges,” he offered. The guy ran his hand down a list, checked his name off, and then let him inside. The Bridges name held weight everywhere that he went.
His eyes easily adjusted to the flashes of light ricocheting off of the mirrored walls. The club was intricate and he took note of some easy adjustments he could make in his own place. He assessed the room with an eye for detail, paying little attention to the crowd or the noise. He was used to both.
The winding set of stairs dropped him off at the VIP section. He told the bouncer his name again. He was really getting tired of this. New York didn’t belong to him the same way that Atlanta did. It was a mild irritation, but an irritation nonetheless. After clearing him, the bouncer pulled back the rope and allowed him into the exclusive upstairs bar.
He hated being impressed, but this place was high end. The next one he purchased would have this flare. It managed sleek, modern, and classy without going over the top in any of them. Bottle service was provided at client’s requests, but a full-length bar was still accessible on the far wall.
That’s where he saw her.
A charming smile broke out on his face, and he crossed the room. He leaned forward against the bar and snapped his fingers twice in the most annoying manner. “How do I get good service around here?”
“Sir, I give good service to anyone who doesn’t snap at me,” the woman responded cattily never turning around as he snapped again.
He tried to keep the smirk from his face. She had always been a petite girl with straight hair down to her shoulders. He nearly angled his head to appreciate the tiny ass hidden behind her too short shorts.
“If you snap at me one more time,” she said turning around angrily. Her mouth dropped open. “Holy shit!”
“Hey Lace,” he said letting that easy smirk fall on his lips.
“Ramsey fucking Bridges! You didn’t tell me you were going to be here!” Lacy said, leaning forward on the bar and ignoring her clients. Her purchased breasts fell forward out of the black corset top she was wearing as she smiled up at him.
“I like surprises,” he said with a shrug.
“I like your kind of surprises.” She immediately grabbed a bottle off of the back wall and started pouring into two shot glasses. Pushing one across the bar, she raised it for him to toast.
“Can you drink on the clock?” he asked condescendingly.
“Nope,” she said clicking her glass against his and downing it in one clean sweep.
He followed suit appreciating the top shelf tequila. He set the glass back down and smiled at Lacy. “When do you get off?”
“Is that a trick question, Mr. Bridges?” she asked, waving her hand in the air. He shrugged. He would let her come to her own conclusions. “Oh fine. Probably four. If I’d known you were going to be here, I could have been done earlier.”
“Four works for me. I have some work to do anyway,” he told her. Lacy handed him another drink, remembering his preferences like a pro. “You know a good pie place around here?”
“Sure. Pie at four in the morning? Only in New York,” she said, rolling her eyes and moving on to help her other needy customers.
Ramsey checked his watch. Perfect timing. His interview should be here any minute. He pulled up the guy’s resume on his cell phone and scrolled through it absentmindedly. Pretty impressive until the company he had been working for had gone under, and he was originally from Georgia. That was always a positive in hiring new people from out of state. Hopefully this guy had some people skills; Ramsey was easily bored.
He sipped on his drink, waited on his interview, and watched the VIP section fill up. Geez, where was this guy? It was really bad to show up late to an interview. Even the strippers showed up on time.
Impatient, Ramsey stood from his seat at the bar and made a quick sweep of the perimeter. He wanted to give it his best chance of finding the guy. He had a picture of who he was supposed to interview, but didn’t see anyone yet that looked like him.
What kind of wild goose hunt had Bekah sent him on? This was the last time he was ever doing her a favor again. Okay, probably not, but still…
His drink now empty, he returned to the bar and took over a seat that someone else had just vacated. Setting his empty glass on the bar, he waited for Lacy to pour him another one amidst the chaos, letting his eyes skim the crowd again. As they traveled over one of the couches, he stopped and was glad he was sitting down.
What the hell was Parker doing here?
CHAPTER 3
ONE WAY TICKET
Ramsey couldn’t help himself. He just stared at Parker.
Holy shit, she was beautiful!
His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and it was hard to swallow. Why did she have to be here? He was trying to forget her. Why wouldn’t she just let him forget her?
Tonight was not the night for all of this, and yet he couldn’t push the feelings aside. He wanted her—not just physically either. He had never wanted anyone else more—anyone else at all.
It had been three years since the break up, since their fuck up, and she still managed to grip his heart. She kept him from feeling anything for anyone. How could he? Why would he feel, when she was out there somewhere?
And yet he had never tried to make it right. They couldn’t mend the crack that had shattered their love. It was irreparable. No matter how much he wanted to fix it, to make it better, he couldn’t. They couldn’t.
His heartbreak ate away at him beneath his confident façade.
Parker turned her gaze in his direction, and he quickly diverted his eyes. He didn’t want her to see him. It would be too much. She was dating someone else. She didn’t love him anymore. It was over. It had been for a long time. Seeing her here, now, would just be another reminder of how much he had lost…how much he had given up.
Out of his peripheral vision, he took a closer look. Parker was blatantly staring at him now. He could almost see the clock working inside her brain as she eyed him, registering who he was. Would she come closer? Would she say anything? Or would she avoid him, just like he was avoiding her?
And then he saw it even in the dimness, and his heart contracted. She was not his Parker. She looked a whole hell of a lot like her, but she wasn’t her. No one else could ever be her.
He sagged in his seat, hating himself for the disappointment that settled in his gut.
Oh, God, she was getting up and walking directly toward him. It was now or never. It was his call. If he turned away, she might leave him alone. She might not come after what her walk was suggesting she wanted. But he couldn’t do it. Christ, she looked like Parker. And those hips were coming his way, and he wanted what they were screaming.
She tripped just as she neared him, her heel catching in some unknown crack in the floor, and she yelled out, “Oh!”
His move.
&nb
sp; He reached out catching her body, as light as a feather, in his arms. She was tiny, but all toned muscle underneath her scat clothing. It wasn’t something he normally saw in women like this. He always expected them to be soft and pliable not to be fit. He liked fit.
The girl’s hand reached out and rested on his chest. Once she realized that she was safe, she still didn’t move it immediately. He righted her, keeping his hand firmly planted on her slender hips.
Getting a better look at her, he was just as shocked by her resemblance to Parker. Same dark hair, same dark chocolate eyes, same goddamn height! But he had to force himself to see the differences. This girl was much tanner than his Parker, who was alabaster pale in the hottest of summers with soft freckles across the bridge of her nose. This girl was a different build too. Parker had an athletic build from various sports—soccer, mostly. So, her thighs and calves were solid. Whoever this was had a much more lithe figure, less to hold onto. And now that he was looking, her face was slightly different shaped. Parker had a circular face, which her waves covered half the time, but this girl had a heart-shaped face and almond seductive eyes. It worked for her.
“I am so sorry. I just can’t seem to keep my balance in these things,” she purred and he glanced down at her heels.
He slowly dragged his eyes back up her body and into her face. Still all he saw was Parker. Her voice was more musical, but it was easy to ignore the difference. He was about to earn his one-way ticket to hell. At least it was all done with good intentions. Maybe.
“It’s no problem,” he finally said, still holding onto her hips. “Did you twist your ankle or anything? Did you need to sit down?”
She paused, sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth and giving him a doe-eyed expression as if she were contemplating the question. It was damn sexy, and the last fleeting thought of his interview left his mind.