Truly, Madly, Deeply

by L. S. Scott

  Tweet-tweet.

  the concierge desk has the keys to your car Flynn again.

  I liked the way he used all lower case letters, I would imagine a man with his power to commandingly use all caps.

  My forehead crinkled. I examined the keys in my open palm.

  no I have them the driver left them when he brought my things

  a compact car is bttr for city driving than a truck-Lisa has what you need. Enjoy!

  I considered refusing the gesture. The independence I suffered and fought hard for was my most valued asset and in my first 24 hours in Las Vegas, someone else had driven my Bronco, unloaded my personal belongings, chosen my living quarters, ordered my food, and decided what I should be driving. I had done nothing for myself and it started to feel all too familiar. But, I supposed he was right. The city streets would be more easily maneuvered in a nice little fuel efficient car than my Bronco, aka The Beast, so I conceded.

  TY again

  welcome, again

  Before I left the room, I took inventory of myself. Pony tail-check, wallet, Blistex-check, card key-check, sunglasses-check, comfy sandals-check. Satisfied that I was fully prepared for a day of sight-seeing, I left my room and made my way to the elevator.

  I was still awe struck as I walked through the impressive lobby of The Flynn. Everything from the floor to the ceiling, and the people milling around, was rich and beautiful, a far cry from my shabby chic up-bringing, to put it mildly. Even the nicer home that Jaron had provided was a dump in comparison.

  An attractive young man in a freshly pressed white shirt and taupe paisley silk tie smiled warmly as I approached the concierge desk. His name tag said Tim Lane.

  “Good morning Miss. I hope you are enjoying your stay at the Flynn. How can I be of assistance to you this morning?”

  The service at The Flynn was second to none. I wondered if he would be as sweet when he found out I was just an intern.

  “Is Lisa available,” I asked tentatively.

  “Yes ma’am. And your name?” he queried as he lifted the phone receiver.

  “Natalie Mills.” I thought about elaborating on the fact that Mr. Flynn had made the arrangements, but thought better of it. That sort of thing was best left on the d.l.

  Within seconds, Lisa appeared keys in hand. “Here you are Miss Mills. Just give this to the valet and he will pull your car around.”

  “Thank you. Is there something I need to sign,” I asked, assuming that this was a rental.

  “No ma’am.” She smiled reassuringly.

  “Okay.” I turned to walk away, then turned back to the desk, “Oh, when is the car due back?”

  “I was told you would need it for the week.” Her smile was fixed.

  Despite my best efforts, I was sure I looked flabbergasted. I forced a grin, “Ok, thank you,” and headed toward the exit to seek out the valet.

  At the entrance, I ran into Mr. Johnson. It was eight a.m. sharp and I was guessing that he was just getting to work. He looked professional, yet relaxed, in shiny black shoes, well-fitting gray suit pants, and pressed white shirt and charcoal colored silk tie with copper and cream stripes. There was definitely a color scheme here at The Flynn. Everything was adorned in rich and creamy neutrals, even the staff.

  “Good morning Mr. Johnson,” I beamed cheerfully.

  I felt a comfortable connection with him, maybe because he was so welcoming when he had given me the tour, maybe because he had a very fatherly air about him.

  “Good morning Miss Mills. Where are you off to today?” His greeting was equally as chipper as mine.

  “Downtown.”

  “Well, have fun, but don’t overdo it. There is a lot to see and do. Don’t try to fit it all into one day,” he advised wisely.

  “Yes sir. I will pace myself.”

  I smiled broadly and just before I turned to exit the lobby, caught a glimpse of electric blue eyes looking on from the balcony. I diverted my eyes quickly in an effort to pretend not to notice and fled.

  I paid no attention to the keys in my hand, just passed them off to the valet. He nodded politely and vanished. While I waited I wondered how he would find the car. I wasn’t very experienced with valet parking, but I thought that the valet used a ticket to identify the location of the car.

  Five minutes later, the valet that took my keys pulled up. I looked to the left and to the right. I was the only one on the curb waiting, but there had to be a mistake. The car he parked in front of me was a Mercedes convertible. I didn’t know that it was even possible to rent a car like that, but it was Vegas, normalcy did not apply.

  He left the engine running and stepped out of the car, “Here you are ma’am,” he said motioning for me to get in so he could shut the door for me.

  Hesitantly, I sat behind the wheel of the luxury car, the leather seat wrapped around me as I sunk into it. I had to resist the urge to moan in delight. I forced my attention to the young man watching me amusedly.

  “Thank you,” I said bashfully. He bowed politely and gently closed my door.

  I pinched myself, again. I wasn’t dreaming. I wondered how many times I would pinch myself in the coming days, before I accepted the fact that this was happening.

  The Mercedes’s navigation system made my excursion much easier and more enjoyable than it would have been in The Beast. Not to mention riding around all day in pure sumptuousness.

  I thoroughly explored ‘Old Vegas’ hit all the spots on my list, some that I remembered Ellis talking about and a bunch in between. Before I knew it, the buildings were casting long shadows and the sun was sinking low in the west. I put the top down and enjoyed the cooler evening air as I followed the direction of the electronic but soothing voice of the navigation system.

  The Flynn was buzzing with activity upon my return. A new valet opened my door and took my keys as soon as my car rolled to a stop. Unsure of what I was supposed to do, I asked self-consciously, “Do I need to wait here for the keys?”

  He smiled understandingly but with no condescension. “No ma’am, the concierge will bring them to your room, if that pleases you.” I nodded agreeably with an appreciative smile.

  “Nice car,” I heard from close proximity.

  I turned to find the multi facets of Nicolas Cain’s hazel eyes twinkling down at me. I too had hazel eyes, but they were nothing like his. His eyes reflected light like an exotic jewel.

  “Thank you, but it’s not mine,” I confessed humbly.

  He smiled brilliantly, “You know, this is the third time I have run into you and I have yet to get your name.”

  I tilted my head and smiled sweetly, “Natalie Mills,” I said with extended hand.

  He took me hand in the same way Ellis had when I offered it, but Nicolas gently kissed my knuckles. I blushed bright.

  “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, formally.”

  When I had been talking to myself in the shower about how I was going to present myself as an intelligent professional to Mr. Flynn and not let him reduce me to a stammering, jelly kneed twit, I had forgotten to include Nicolas Cain in that conversation. As I stood there enamored, it escaped my attention that Ellis had pulled up, just a few feet away in Flynn’s black Mercedes sedan. He lowered my hand from his lips but held my finger-tips between his thumb and index finger.

  I swallowed and regained my composure, “Mr. Cain, wasn’t it,” I asked, as if I weren’t sure.

  “Please, call me Nick,” he insisted.

  “Okay Nick and you can call me Natalie,” I said playfully.

  “Miss Mills. Glad to see you made it back okay. You enjoyed the car, I hope.”

  The voice was rigid and a bit intimidating and despite its low volume, demanded my attention.

  I followed the sound to find Flynn regarding the exchange between Nicolas and me, somberly. Poker faced. He focused on me as if Nicolas weren’t there, only breaking eye contact to look down at our hands that were still touching. I disengaged and ran my hand through my hair casuall
y in an attempt to calm my wind-blown tresses. Remember, you’re an intelligent, grown ass woman.

  “Yes, I did, thank you. You were right, navigating town was much easier in the Mercedes than it would have been in my truck.”

  I spoke coolly, as if I was accustomed to driving luxury cars. I gave myself a mental pat on the back when my response had a notable effect on his demeanor and he cracked a smile.

  “Good,” he replied kindly, winked and ducked into the back seat of his waiting ride.

  When the door closed behind the Ralph Lauren model that was my boss, I turned my attention back to the Calvin Klein model in front of me.

  “Sorry, you were saying,” I asked, trying to get the encounter back on track. My poise fortified by my handling of Mr. Flynn.

  Nick looked down at me admiringly, “Have dinner with me, Thursday night,” he uttered assertively.

  My eyelashes fluttered, taken aback. Being friendly and flirty, in public, was one thing. But my past made me guarded against situations that resulted in me being alone with a man I didn’t know and trust implicitly, with the recent exception of Connor Flynn. In college I didn’t date. I was almost twenty-five and Jaron had been the only one. But, I so wanted to say yes.

  I thought quickly, “how about coffee, Thursday morning” I suggested.

  He smiled warmly, “Coffee it is. Eight o’clock okay?”

  “Yeah, eight is good.”

  “Okay, I will swing by your suite and we can come down to the café, together,” his manner was laid back and easy and helped to calm my paranoid reservations.

  “Sounds like a plan. Good bye Nicolas.”

  “Till Thursday,” he replied.

  “Till Thursday,” I smiled.

  I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, as I enter my comfy suite. Already I felt at home. It amazed me how quickly I was settling in to this swanky environment with all its intimidating wealth and beauty.

  Maybe it was Mr. Flynn’s relaxed way. He was not at all what I expected. He seemed so, unaffected by it all, his controlling nature aside. He wasn’t snooty and uptight, walking around with his tie loosened and his jacket dangling from his arm, escorting unsophisticated interns to their rooms. I closed my eyes and grimaced at the spectacle of myself, glad it became an even more distant memory with every passing second.

  During my excursion, I purchased a large cloth bag for the souvenirs I picked up along the way. I pulled it and my small purse off my shoulder and tossed them on the bed and instantly realized how exhausted I actually was. Mr. Johnson had warned me not to overdo, but I’m afraid I didn’t heed his warning. A nice hot bubble bath was calling my name.

  With bubbles up to my chin, my iPod pumping my favorite angsty 80’s rock through the Bose surround sound in my room and a crown and coke in hand, compliments of the mini bar, I soaked my cares away. When I finally crawled into bed, I was out before my head hit the pillow.

  I lay naked on my stomach kneading the luxurious, overstuffed bedding, with my fingers. I panted in the dark as expert hands skimmed up my bare legs and tauntingly skipped my most private and needful parts. My back arched, raising my hips to seek out his touch. He chuckled softly at my ardor. His lips nibbled at my soft backside and trailed burning kisses up my spine. He lowered his weight on me slightly, one hand on each side of me. The open fly on his jeans pressed into the naked flesh between my legs, I moaned. He chuckled. He swept my hair to the side, twined it around his fingers, and tugged gently, exposing my neck. He pushed his hard denim into me as he lick, sucked, and bit at my neck and jaw almost sending me over the edge. He halted his erotic assault and put his lips to my ear. “Did you miss me Natalie,” he hissed and trapped my wrists with his hands. My eyes opened and my breath hitched. I struggled against his weight smashing me into the bed…….

  I shot up in bed. My heart was racing, my head was pounding and my eyes were burning. I angrily swiped at my tear stained cheeks with the back of my hand. The nightmares were less frequent, but never really went away.

  At times like these I would normally call Tiffany and get it off my chest and I was tempted, but thought better of it. I would never burden my worrisome brother with the knowledge that I was truly scarred for life by the tumultuous relationship between me and Jaron. It took a couple years to convince him it wasn’t as bad as everyone let on and that I never gave it a second thought so he shouldn’t either. I couldn’t rob him of that piece of mind now.

  The reality of how utterly alone I was set in. I wasn’t used to so much down time and as much as I wanted to enjoy sight-seeing, I was ready to fill my time with work and progress toward my next goal, whatever that was.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The Hoover Dam was pretty neat, but I think I enjoyed the drive the most. I had the top down, music playing, nothing was more relaxing to me than just hitting the road and getting lost in the yellow line and my favorite tunes. Very cathartic. Down side, the tears that inevitably flowed. I’d never been one to cry in public, even when Jaron and I fought, I held it together, put on a strong front. But alone, on the open road, with Lisa Lisa & Cult jam wailing All Cried Out; even the Hoover Dam couldn’t hold them back. When I was finally all cried out, I felt much better.

  With my pony tail hanging loose from the whipping wind, my sunglasses flipped up on my head and a few shopping bags dangling from my arm, I walked into the lobby of The Flynn around five. My eyes stung from the crying, but most of the puffiness had gone away, and my smile was an exhausted one, but came easier. This place was full of strangers, so it made no real difference to me, not in that moment anyway.

  Before I made it to the elevator, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs, hands in his pockets, jacket draped over one wrist. He stopped when he saw me. His brow furrowed and his head tilted slightly. I shot him a tired grin and dragged myself into the elevator. It had been awhile since I had a good cry. I had forgotten how exhausting it was. A room service cheeseburger, a whiskey and coke and my cozy quilt were calling my name.

  I ordered my room service and dumped my bags out on the bed. I went shopping with the intention of adding some more sophisticated articles of clothing to my wardrobe, but when I tried on some of the high fashion dresses and shoes, I felt ridiculous. So, I ended up with some things more in my comfort zone. A couple pairs of shorts and tops to match, and a simple shift dress. One splurge item was the closet essential ‘little black dress’ at least that’s how the girl in the boutique sold it to me. I wasn’t sure about it but she talked me into it and heels to match and convinced me I looked amazing. I’m sure she saw my green, country bumpkin ass coming a mile away. I made sure to put the receipt in my purse, because it would probably go back.

  I laid it out on the bed and stood staring at it with my hands on my hips. It was a halter micro mini with a cowl neck and drawstring sides. Jaron wouldn’t have let me out of the house with it on and I really had no idea where I would wear such a thing, if I even had the guts to be seen in it.

  I tried it on, with the heels, and checked myself in the mirror. I pulled out my ponytail and ruffled my hair, applied some powder, mascara and lip gloss for the full effect. I had to admit, I looked pretty good. But decided I would exchange it for something more me.

  Though, I was sure by Vegas standards it was pretty tame, I was all cleavage and legs, and modest me felt a little bit like a street walker. I was laughing at myself in the mirror when room service knocked on the door. I grabbed my wallet and swung the door open. Holy shit.

  “Mr. Flynn, um, hello.” Dammit so much for my new intelligent persona.

  I was mortified. There I stood, looking like a prostitute in front of my boss. His piercing blue eyes traveled from mine, along the length of my body to my heels and back to my face. He held my gaze, poker faced, as the flush on my cheeks intensified form pink to scarlet.

  “I’m sorry, I, I thought you were room service,” I stuttered.

  I turned to flee into my room, flustered, and paid no mind to the fact that he f
ollowed. I snagged a t-shirt out of the drawer and shoved my arms through. My effort to lift the Arkansas Razorback tee over my head was impeded by his outstretched hand.

  “Sorry for what? I’m the one showing up unannounced at your door. You obviously have plans,” he gestured to my outfit. “I am the one who should apologize.”

  “No, I don’t have plans. I just did some shopping today and let this smart little sales girl convince me that I needed a little black dress. I had just decided that I would take it back tomorrow when you knocked.”

  I tried to explain myself in detail, yet another conditioned response from the years with Jaron. But, at least I was speaking coherently and in complete sentences.

  “No. You should keep the dress. It is very becoming.” He complimented me as he dropped his hand slowly.

  He held my gaze to appraise my reaction. A knock at the door, followed by the call of ‘room service’ was a welcome diversion from his scrutiny.

  Reflexively, he strolled to the door, tipped the waiter and closed it behind him.

  “Wait, I didn’t sign for my food.”

  “Why would you sign for your food,” he asked, his forehead crinkled.

  “So I can pay for it.” DUH!

  “It’s charged to the room Natalie, you don’t have to pay for it,” he said casually, lifting the lid on my dinner curiously and swiping a french fry. Natalie? Since when are we on a first name basis.

  “I mean no disrespect, Mr. Flynn, but is there a reason you’re here, besides pilfering my fries.”

  His eyes were dancing with amusement when he set the lid down and looked up from my dinner plate. Leaning against the dresser, he crossed his arms over his chest. The collar of his shirt puckered under the pressure and revealed a peek of defined muscles. He smiled perceptively as I slipped my baggy t-shirt over the fancy dress and kicked off my hooker heels.

  “You looked upset earlier. I know you’re from a small town and all this is probably a bit of culture shock for you. Alan said you haven’t picked up your uniforms or schedule yet, so I wanted to touch base with you, make sure your still feeling good about your decision. Make sure this is still what you want to do.”