Sinsperationally Yours

by Prince, Nikki

  Moments later, she laid there pissed off at her subconscious. Her morning orgasm proved to be barely a ripple in her pursuit of a full-blown tsunami—a consequence of waking up too early from The Dream…again.

  “Damn. Damn. Damn,” she muttered to no one.

  For years she tried to train herself to stay asleep long enough for her dream lover to fuck her into high heaven. Yet despite her test runs with sleep aids, meditation and alcohol, Mila had yet to go all the way with her fantasy man, or even see his face for that matter. The Dream worked her up enough to make her come, but it always left her aching for more—more of Him.

  And why was it that even though she knew he was just a dream and didn’t exist, did she still believe with certainty that he would compare to no other?

  Her pussy continued to throb with a wanting to be filled. She debated on whether to get her favorite toy to take the edge off, but then the alarm clock beeped and told her she’d run out of time.

  A car would be there in less than two hours to pick her up and take her to her destiny.

  Whether that destiny meant she became a millionaire or a murder victim was still to be determined.

  Dramatic much, Mila? She shrugged off her own inner sarcasm. There was a very good possibility she was about to star in a Dateline episode in the making: a 24-year-old (almost 25) single woman planning to spend the weekend with a man she barely knew under the premise that at the end of it she’d inherit millions.

  She’d prepared for this day for more than seven years, but now she couldn’t help but think, “What if?”

  Feeling raw and vulnerable, maybe because of The Dream or maybe because she just needed the excuse, Mila grabbed her phone and texted her ex-boyfriend Lance with an address and the message:

  Send the police if you don’t hear from me by Monday.

  The phone rang less than a minute later.

  “What’s going on with you, Mila,” he asked as soon as she answered. And for the first time ever, she told him everything about her past and how her future depended on the next three days.

  “That’s quite a story. And now you’re worried this guy might be some sort of serial killer or something?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Mila…”

  She rolled her eyes at the familiar condescending tone. So what if she had an overly active imagination or believed in the dark and unexplainable? Having both of your parents die in a freak helicopter accident when you were only 17 will do that to you. The emotional acid reflux known as regret burned at her throat.

  “Forget it, Lance. I’m sorry I bothered you with my needless worrying. Good-bye,” she spat out and went to end the call.

  “Wait! Wait! I’m sorry if I made you feel like that. I’m actually very glad that you texted me.”

  “Why?” she sighed in exasperation.

  “Because…I’ve missed you.”

  ***

  Mila peered out the back passenger window of the Towne Car as it made its way up a black asphalt driveway. It came to a stop at the front of a breath-taking, Spanish-style, two-story mansion.

  She heart dropped in disappointment. Not at the house, but at the fact she had arrived. She’d been distracting her anxiety with a travel version of House Hunters – picking out homes along Mulholland Drive she liked. Not that she wanted to live in Hollywood Hills. But it was still fun to know she could if she wanted to after this weekend.

  Only problem? This weekend had to start now.

  The privacy window in the middle of the car rolled down. “I’ll take care of your luggage,” said the driver, who never told her his name.

  She took it as a sign to get out of the car so Mila grabbed her purse and did just that. Her stomach curdled in nerves and her heart rate increased with every step she took up the brick stairs leading to the front door.

  Spotting an overnight envelope lying on the last step, she stopped to take a closer look, which allowed her to also catch her breath. Although she thought it odd that the delivery person left it there, rather than at the security kiosk at the main gate, nothing about it made it seem than more than just ordinary express mail. Mila shrugged, picked it up and went to knock on the door. She only had to rap once before it swung open.

  Diego de la Cotera, once her father’s client and her legal guardian until she turned eighteen, stood in the doorway. She noticed his strikingly dark eyes first and how they matched his tousled, wavy hair. He wore a black turtleneck and dark colored jeans—a casual yet fashionable ensemble that enhanced his model-worthy body. She’d never understood the meaning of the phrase “sexy as sin” until that moment.

  Had he been this good looking the last time she’d seen him in person? Mila couldn’t remember, but then again she didn’t remember much about those first few weeks after her parents’ accident.

  Stop gawking at the man and say hello before he thinks you’re a creep.

  But before she could open her mouth, he smiled at her, making her insides sizzle like butter on a hot frying pan.

  What was I going to say again?

  “Hello, Mila,” he said and offered her his right hand. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  And she believed it more than she had ever believed anything in her entire life.

  In taking his hand, her heartbeat slowed to normal and a sense of peace spread from their joined palms to the rest of her body, relaxing her to the point that her knees bent, shifting her slightly off balance. The motion startled her and she regained her senses, remembering the millions of reasons why she was there. And fawning over her former guardian, was not of them

  With her free hand, she showed him the envelope in the hopes he’d take the hint and release her. “I found this outside on the steps. It has your name on it.”

  One finger at a time, he let go of her palm. Although she’d become uncomfortable by their prolonged skin-to-skin contact, the moment his hand left hers she caught herself wondering if he’d ever take her hand again.

  Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous.

  “Thank you for bringing this to me.” He motioned for her to come inside and she followed. As they walked together through the foyer, he opened the cardboard envelope and pulled out a smaller cream-colored envelope. His name written in cursive handwriting appeared on the front.

  Then he stopped walking.

  Mila thought she heard him mutter something in Spanish but she couldn’t make out what he said. And judging by the pinched look on his face, the letter obviously was not expected or wanted.

  Since she didn’t know where they were going, she had to stop walking, too. “Everything okay? Is it bad news or something?”

  He looked up at her. No, he looked beyond her. The brightness she’d seen in his face when he opened the door disappeared. Now his eyes appeared empty, his face ashen—almost as if he’d seen a ghost.

  And then the stunned look disappeared and a little bit of color returned to his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he offered, stuffing the letter into his back pocket. “It’s nothing, really. Please, let me show you to the living room.”

  Mila stifled a gasp and he led her into a room the size of her entire condo. Large black iron chandeliers carrying unlit pillar candles hung from wooden beams that crisscrossed the vaulted ceilings. The double stained glass windows at the northern end of the room completed the cathedral-esque look. Still the room had a modern feel with its black leather furniture and dark wooden accents. He motioned for her to take a seat in one armchair while he sat in another opposite of her. As if on cue, an older woman with thin eyebrows and even thinner lips appeared from an open entryway in the middle of the room. She wore a black long-sleeved blouse with a gray skirt, black nylons and black flats. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled tightly into a short bun reminding Mila of one of the nuns at her elementary school. And just like the nuns, she could tell this woman didn’t play.

  “Ah, this is Julissa, my house manager. She knows this place better than I do and is here to serve your ever
y need during your stay with us.”

  Us?

  Great, she thought. Wasn’t it bad enough that she had to spend the next three days with some man she barely knew, now she had to live with Sister Sour Face, too?

  Mila reminded herself once again that it would all be worth it. So she plastered on a fake smile and extended her hand to Julissa.

  The older woman’s lips unpinched enough for her to say, “Mucho gusto, señorita Solis. Quieres algo de tomar?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t speak Spanish,” she explained looking first at Julissa and then at Mr. de la Cotera. Her basic knowledge of the language was limited to curse words and food items. The fact that she wasn’t fluent surprised strangers who automatically assumed because of the color of her skin or her last name that they could start up conversations with her in Spanish. When she’d answer them back in her accent-less “No en-tien-do,” they’d look at her as though they didn’t believe her.

  Julissa, however, looked offended; while Mr. de la Cotera seemed so surprised she felt the need to explain.

  “Apparently, I could speak it as a child. But once I started school I guess my parents figured life would be easier for me if I spoke English only. I keep telling myself I need to buy that computer program that supposedly makes you bilingual in three days or something. Just haven’t gotten around to it.” Then she laughed. Why? She didn’t know since the mood in the room wasn’t exactly humorous.

  And neither was her host’s glare. She thought she saw his eyes darken and the ends of his smile fall before it picked back up as he explained that Julissa had asked her if she wanted something to drink.

  “How about some lemonade or iced tea?” he suggested.

  “Actually, if you don’t mind…do you have anything stronger? It’s been quite a day already.”

  What a freaking understatement.

  Uh-oh, was that disappointment on his face again? Had she somehow offended him by asking for liquor? Lance often told her she spoke without thinking. Mila didn’t want to jeopardize her inheritance by pissing off Mr. de la Cotera. She decided she’d better play it safe and be on her best behavior this weekend.

  “Never mind. Lemonade sounds lovely,” she said.

  “It’s fine,” he assured her. Then he said something to Julissa that seemed to irritate the house manager because her Spanish came faster and louder. But he gave her a look that quieted her and she walked away.

  Cerveza—Mila only understood that one word from their curious exchange. Given the anxiety she’d felt after only ten minutes in this house with this man, she definitely needed a beer. Hell, she probably needed more like five, but she knew better than to get drunk on her first night here.

  As they waited for Julissa to return, Mila decided she’d try to make small talk.

  “I want to thank you again Mr. de la Cotera for everything you’ve done for me throughout the years.”

  The intensity of his gaze warmed her like the rays of a summer sun—it brought her skin to life. “Please, call me Diego. And, of course, it has been my pleasure. I can assure you I’ve only done what I thought Luis would have wanted me to do and, most importantly, what was best for you, Mila.”

  The softness in his voice when he spoke about her father touched her. He obviously had cared about him and she could hear the lingering grief in his tone. For the first time, she wondered what it must have been like for him when her parents died.

  She wanted to ask him, but then Julissa came out with two beers, already uncapped, on a silver tray along with two glasses filled with ice. Of course, she handed Diego his beer first but he waived off the glass. Mila did the same.

  “Here’s to a weekend of new beginnings. Salud,” he said and tipped his beer in her direction before taking a swig. She almost spit out hers when she saw his face contort. Why was he drinking it if he it didn’t like it? Julissa, on the other hand, seemed to take enjoyment from his reaction and walked away wearing somewhat of a deranged smile.

  She took one more gulp before putting her beer down on a marble coaster already set on the table. Diego didn’t attempt another sip. “So, Mila, I’m sure you’re wondering why your trust fund included the stipulation that you spend three days here with me.”

  “Yes, I’ve wondered.” I’ve also pondered, questioned, contemplated, mused, agonized over.

  “My goal has always been to provide for you as your parents’ would have. The college savings account they started for you only had enough for two years of tuition at UCLA. As your guardian, I wanted to make sure you could finish college and fund your daily living expenses. I’m sure it was hard on you in the beginning to have limited access to your bank account, but I promise you it was all part of the bigger plan to protect your future and your parents’ legacy.”

  “I’m not going to lie. I might have cursed your name once or twice when you’d e-mail me a long explanation as to why I couldn’t buy a new pair of shoes or go on vacation with my sorority sisters to the Bahamas. But I always got over it.” No I didn’t.

  Diego’s posture stiffened and she thought maybe she had accidentally said those last two words out loud.

  He continued. “Although we won the ten million dollar settlement against the helicopter company some time ago, I wanted to be certain things were in place before giving you access. I’m happy to report that the full amount of your trust fund—and then some—will be transferred on Monday as scheduled to a special bank account I’ve already created for you.”

  She only nodded, afraid her mouth might get her into trouble again.

  “That said, there is another aspect to your parents’ estate management that required me to make this unusual request for you to stay here for three days.” He hunched forward and she detected a new ramped up pitch to his tone. “You come from a long line of people who cared about helping those less fortunate. Charity is in your blood, you could say.”

  While he seemed excited, her stomach flip-flopped in a pool of nervousness. How in the hell did this new “aspect” affect her trust fund money?

  “Your parents designated a percentage of their estate to be used for charitable donations. In order to do that, I had to establish a foundation in their name. I’m proud to say that the Solis Family Foundation is doing extremely well and we’ve done some important and amazing work because of it.”

  “Wow, that’s great. I had no idea. But I still don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

  “It has everything to do with you. In addition to your trust fund, I’m ready to hand over control of the Foundation to you. And I’m willing to make a match donation to ensure it can continue to thrive for several more years. That’s why I wanted to spend some time with you over the weekend so we could discuss this opportunity fully.”

  “Again, wow. I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything yet. You have three days to think about it. All I ask is that you approach everything with an open mind.”

  Mila’s heart pounded. This wasn’t what she expected at all. She didn’t know the first thing about running a charity. Worry needled at her. “Just to be clear, me accepting or not accepting this role won’t affect my inheritance?”

  He didn’t even try to hide his disappointment this time. “No. You still get access to your trust fund account at 12 a.m. on Monday no matter what you decide. You are free to leave here and never look back. I’ll continue to run the Foundation until the money allotted for it by your parents run out–which will most likely be by the end of the year. And that will be it.”

  The finality of his words stung but she didn’t understand why. Again, she felt the need to explain.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I love the idea of a Foundation in my parents’ name giving back to those in need. It’s true that charity was very important to them. They tried to get me involved in a few of their causes, but I never really found one that stuck, you know? So it was more their thing.” As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t stop rambling. “Plus, after L
ance and I get married we’ll probably want to get started on our family and with my career, I don’t know if I’ll have the time to devote to the Foundation. I’m sure there are more qualified—“

  “Perdón,” Diego interrupted, “but what did you just say?”

  “Which part?”

  “The part about getting married.”

  “Oh! Yes, well that kind of just happened. I don’t have a ring or anything, but yeah, I’m kind of engaged.” Saying the words made it more real and her heart skipped.

  “You’re marrying someone else?”

  “No, not someone else, my boyfriend Lance. I think I mentioned him once or twice in our e-mails. We’ve been on and off again for about two years and I really thought we were done this last time. But we started talking again this morning and we decided to get back together and finally get married.”

  The ashen face and blank eyes returned. She turned around this time just to make sure there wasn’t, in fact, some sort of apparition behind her. By the time she turned back around, Diego was walking away from her.

  And the chill he left in his wake scared her more than any ghost’s.

  ***

  Darkness descended by the time Diego decided he could calmly face Mila again. He’d spent the day in his study tormented by her announcement and torn at the thought of whether he should give up his plan altogether and let her go. Not just tonight, but forever.

  When he first opened the door and saw her standing there on the other side, it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to grab her by the head and kiss her beautiful lips. He couldn’t believe how much she resembled herself from back then. But, while Mila had always been a pretty girl, this woman—with her long dark hair, hazel eyes, light brown skin and luscious curves—took his breath away.

  The other differences like her new preference for alcohol and inability to speak Spanish worried him at first. Yet neither shocked or disappointed him more than her indifference to the Foundation. His Mila encouraged him to give away his wealth to those less fortunate. And even though she was as poor as mouse, his Mila was passionate about making a difference however she could and that’s why he had started the Foundation in the first place. He always intended to hand over the operations of it so she could finally do the work she never had the chance to do in her previous life.