by Kaye Blue
“I’ll see you two later. Say good-bye to Shay for me,” he said to Marcos.
Alex and Marcos said their good-byes and then Alex stood. “We should get out of here too. You need help cleaning up?” he asked.
Marcos looked at him, incredulous. “You think I’d let just anyone touch my grill? I’m offended you’d even ask.”
Alex just smiled and then Marcos stood and circled the table and caught me in a big hug.
“It was great to see you again, Mia. I hope it’s not the last time,” he said.
“Me too,” I replied, smiling.
“Tell Shay I’ll check in later,” Alex said.
“Will do. Good night,” Marcos said.
After our final good-byes, we headed back to the car, my mind whirling a mile a minute.
When Alex circled to the driver’s side, I closed my eyes and breathed deep, trying to gather myself. I glanced at him when he got into the car, noting that his demeanor didn’t seem different.
Maybe nothing was different for him, but this night had changed everything for me.
The question was, did I dare tell him that?
*
Mia
*
The ride back to the penthouse passed in silence, which would have been pleasant had I been even a little calm.
But I wasn’t.
Instead, I was preoccupied with a thought I couldn’t shake, one that I kept turning over and over in my mind, looking for a way to avoid it, pretend it didn’t exist.
I hadn’t found one by the time we’d reached the penthouse. In fact, the opposite had happened. During the ride, I’d searched for any excuse to dismiss the thought, tried to convince myself it wasn’t possible.
The effort had been futile.
We still hadn’t spoken a word as we rode up the elevator, and when Alex looked over at me and smiled, I knew what I would do.
He unlocked the door and went to the fridge to get water, everything about him doing so—and me being here to see it—feeling normal, right.
Perfect.
The same was true of all that had happened that night. I’d been too caught up in the pleasant company to reflect on it, but as we’d driven back, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t notice how wonderful the evening had been.
It had felt like I belonged, like I’d been there all the time.
Like Alex and I were real.
We weren’t. I knew that. But some part of me wished that it could be.
Alex finished his water and then approached me, a little smile playing on his lips. He kissed me softly and then asked, “Did you have an okay time?”
I smiled back. “More than okay.”
“So what’s wrong?” he asked.
“What makes you think something’s wrong?” I responded, equally amazed and afraid that he was so in tune with me.
He smiled at me again, the expression indulgent. “Mia, be serious. Something’s on your mind. What is it?” he asked.
I sighed but didn’t break his gaze. My heart was pounding at what felt like a thousand miles a minute, the words in my brain wanting to come out, my fear of how he would react keeping them in.
But when I saw his eyes, saw the patience, the affection in them, my decision was made.
“I really did have a wonderful time, Alex,” I whispered. “And I don’t want tonight to be the end.”
“What does that mean?” he asked, his voice, his expression unchanging.
I swallowed thickly, determined to force the words out. “It means I…care for you. And, if you’re willing, I want to know if we can put the past behind us and try this. For real.”
The silence that followed was deafening, and when I looked into Alex’s eyes, I knew I had made a grave mistake.
Twenty-Five
Alex
*
Her words hung in the air, my mind trying to process them.
I must have misheard. She couldn’t have been asking what it seemed.
But when I looked into her eyes, saw her furtive expression, her worried yet hopeful eyes, I knew she had.
The rage that exploded through my body was something I almost couldn’t contain, so intense that my vision started to blur at the edges.
I stepped back from her, took a deep breath, another, another still, searching for elusive calm.
It was almost impossible to process what she’d asked.
Could we put the past behind us?
She’d asked that like it was an easy thing, like it was something she deserved. Like what she had done was something I could just push under the rug.
“Alex, I—”
I had no idea what Mia intended to say, and I would never know because I cut off her words with a kiss, needing to do something with all of the rage, the hurt, the longing swirling inside me.
I pressed my lips against hers hard, kissing her with a roughness, a ferocity that was driven in equal parts by anger and desperation.
I didn’t know which was stronger, but they seemed to fuel one another, each sending me higher, then higher, making me kiss her harder and then harder.
I reached for her tank top, too impatient to have it off to remove it the proper way and instead ripped the thin material.
Mia inhaled sharply, but didn’t break our kiss.
I was equally quick with her bra, opening it and pulling it off her body in two swift motions.
My eyes were closed, but by now I knew her body, reached for her on memory and instinct, cupping and kneading her breasts in my hands.
I squeezed a little harder than I would ordinarily, was rewarded by the sharp arch of Mia’s back.
I released her breasts, missing their weight in my hands, but desperate to feel the rest of her.
Opened her pants, pushed them and her panties down her legs and then squeezed her full ass cheeks, held her weight in my hands for a moment before I reached between her thighs.
Like always, she was wet, waiting, and she moaned as I pushed two fingers inside of her without preamble.
The touch was intense as always, but not nearly enough.
I stroked inside of her once, twice, but then became frantic to feel her pussy around my hardness.
So, with one hand on her hip, I used the other to open my pants and free myself, my cock straining toward her entrance.
I latched one leg and then the other on my hips and impaled her in one thrust.
We hadn’t even made it out of the entryway and I shifted, trapping Mia between me and the door.
I thrust into her hard, unrelenting, the sound of her body knocking against the wood, her breath, my own, a delicious yet desperate sound that reflected the tumultuous emotions that were pouring through me.
I wanted to cry out, do something, beg her to stay, but I could do nothing.
Because I knew what she would say.
Just as when I had asked her to marry me, so young, so hopeful, she would say no. But I wasn’t the boy I had been then.
I was different now, rich, powerful, in control, and Mia would know that. Know that for these last two weeks she was mine. I would make sure she did.
I surged into her again, then again, felt her clamp down on me as she cried out her climax.
I continued to thrust, moved until the emotion, the sensation became unbearable.
I let myself go, spilled myself inside her with an intensity that felt like my entire essence was leaving my body.
Mia held me through the storm, her arms around me keeping me anchored, and also crushing my already fragile spirit.
When I could finally breathe again, had some semblance of reason, I pulled out of her, and stepped back, unceremoniously watching as her legs dropped to the floor.
She stood on two feet, looked at me, but unlike before, there was no embarrassment about her nakedness.
At least not at first.
We had been naked in front of each other countless times before, and I knew Mia’s body as well as I knew my own.
And over the weeks, s
he had gotten used to my gaze, my touch.
But in the few seconds that ticked by, something changed.
I could only imagine what I must have looked like given how I felt inside.
But as I watched her, my eyes on her intent, I could see her start to recoil, back away.
That hurt, but also made me happy. She was realizing that there was no way I could just sweep the past under the rug, probably felt stupid for even suggesting such a thing.
Just as stupid as I felt for being weak enough to consider it.
Good.
I let her move past me, and didn’t turn to watch as I listened to her walk to the bedroom.
I thought she might stay there, but she didn’t.
She emerged a few moments later, in a T-shirt, and nothing else if the way her breasts moved and the faint outline of her hair-covered mound were anything to go by.
She stopped in front of me, then lifted her hand, seemed to think better of it.
She dropped her arm to her side quickly, but kept her eyes on me.
I wanted to shrink from her gaze, do something to relieve the emotion that was so intense, but I stayed where I was.
“Are you okay, Alex?” she asked.
Her voice was soft, sincere, and it was that sincerity that pushed me over the edge.
“You asked that like you care,” I said.
My words had started out low, but got higher, deeper with each word I spoke.
“Of course I care. That’s why I’m asking. I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said.
I looked at her, then lifted one corner of my mouth in what I knew was a twisted grimace, then began to laugh, the sound low, disgusted, ugly, even to my ears.
“Didn’t mean to upset me? Like you give a fuck about upsetting me,” I spat.
Mia looked stunned, but then she looked confused.
“You don’t believe that, do you? That I didn’t—don’t care about you?” she asked quietly.
I laughed again, the sound almost manic. “Don’t try to sucker me in with the innocent act, Mia,” I said.
“What act, Alex?” she asked.
“You think I forgot what you did?”
“No, of course—”
“Then why the fuck would I think you care about me? You don’t do shit like that to people you care about,” I said through clenched teeth.
Mia looked guilty, hurt, both only serving to further fuel my anger. “I know what I did was wrong, and you can’t know how sorry I am about it. But that was years ago, and I’m not that person anymore. I want to try,” she whispered.
I could see how hard it had been for her to say those words, could feel her hope, her desperation. They reminded me of all those years ago when I had been hopeful, desperate for a chance. I told her as much.
“When I asked you to marry me, I felt the same way. I probably even looked the same way, all big-eyed. And what did you do? What did you do, Mia?” I asked sharply.
She flinched, looked down, but then looked up again. “I said no,” she said in an almost inaudible voice.
I stared at her, mouth agape. It took several long seconds before I dared speak again. “You said no? That’s not what you did at all. No, you laughed in my face. Humiliated me,” I said, my voice raw, ragged with anger and long-festering hurt.
Even now, I could remember it. I’d saved up enough to take her out to dinner. Burgers at the local diner, but that was more than I’d ever been able to afford. I’d even skipped groceries for a week to afford a shitty ring from the pawnshop.
The entire night, my heart had been pounding, and I was so nervous, I still wasn’t sure how I had gotten through it.
That diner had been a hub of the town, and all of the prominent citizens, including the mayor and Mia’s father had been there. Back then, I was stupid enough to be happy about it, so excited that everyone would finally see that I wasn’t some worthless piece of shit. No, I was worthy, worthy of Mia’s love, worthy enough to spend my life with her.
She’d been shocked when I’d dropped down on one knee right in the middle of the restaurant. At first, I’d thought that was a good thing. I’d planned for maximum surprise after all.
But when I’d gotten through with the words I’d been working on for weeks and Mia had looked at her father and not me, my heart had dropped.
She’d turned her dark eyes on me, the expression in them shock. And then she’d done something that I didn’t think I’d ever recover from.
She’d laughed.
I could hear her voice now, hear the others that had joined her. Feel her hand on mine as I stood, staring at her, unable to believe what I was seeing.
Hear her words, the condescension in her voice.
Hear her tell me that she’d always been fond of me but that I couldn’t possibly believe it was more than that.
She’d patted me on the hand and apologized for giving me the wrong impression.
I’d stood, so ashamed and embarrassed I thought I might die from it, but still needing to stay, searching for, hoping for some other explanation.
There had been none.
When I’d looked into Mia’s eyes, all I had seen was embarrassment, annoyance.
I’d left the diner without another word, left the town that night, and had never looked back.
And she wanted to put that behind us?
No fucking way.
“You really are something, Mia,” I said, surprised that I was still objective enough to recognize that the request was actually a little impressive. Even I didn’t have the balls to fuck someone over like Mia had and expect them to put it in the fucking past.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
She seemed genuinely confused, and that confusion only made me angrier.
“You know what? It doesn’t matter,” I said, my head throbbing now.
“Alex…” she started before a sharp shake of my head cut her off.
“You’ve said all you ever will to me. The deal’s off. If you don’t pay the balance of the loan in two weeks, Marshall & Sons is mine,” I said.
“We had a deal,” she said, sounding desperate.
“Our deal was twelve weeks. Your performance was unsatisfactory, so I’m ending it. I want you out of here by morning,” I said.
Or at least that was what I thought I wanted. Some part of me rebelled at the idea of Mia being gone, but that part was small, almost subsumed by the fact that looking at her now and remembering that time caused a hurt almost beyond imagining, made me wish that I could put this behind me.
I couldn’t deal with that. Wouldn’t deal with it.
So as I had all those years ago, I walked away without looking back.
Twenty-Six
Mia
*
The hours ticked by slowly, felt more like years. And there was no respite from them.
I prayed for sleep, but that hadn’t been forthcoming. Had hoped that maybe tears, anger, would help.
But no tears had fallen, and no anger had come.
So instead, I had been there, stuck, replaying Alex’s words, the look on his face, the way it felt like my heart had crumbled over and over again.
Maybe I was in shock, not knowing what had happened, but the feelings I felt were anything but unknown.
I would have welcomed numbness.
But that, the experience of the hurt over and over again was much, much worse.
I’d thought I knew hurt before, much of it at Alex’s hand, but as he always seemed to do, he had proven me oh so very wrong.
Through that long, seemingly never-ending night, I replayed those moments over and over again, remembered the pain on his face, then the anger, remembered the moment when he had crushed me so.
It wasn’t about the business. Right now, I couldn’t care less about Marshall & Sons. But the thought of leaving Alex, losing what we had found together was impossible.
Which meant that I was in for a world of pain. Because Alex hated me.
But I didn’t hate him.
Even after the way all this had unfolded, I still cared about him.
Who was I kidding?
I loved him.
And that love broke my heart because I’d never be able to fix what I’d done in the past, never be able to make him see that I’d done what I thought was right. Which meant I was stuck loving a man who would never love me back.
About an hour after sunrise, I finally pulled myself out of bed.
I felt wired, strangely energized even though I hadn’t slept a wink.
I knew that was emotion, leftover adrenaline, and the crash, when it came, which I knew it would, would be hard.
But I would ride this energy for as long as I possibly could because I had things to do.
I let Alex go once and was still paying the price for that. I wouldn’t give him up again, not without a fight.
I lingered in the bathroom, showered leisurely, took my time to dress as my mind worked at the puzzle that lay in front of me.
I had no doubt about what I would do. Had no choice but to do what I was going to do. But the logistics were a problem.
It occurred to me, surprisingly for the very first time, that I had absolutely no idea where Alex lived, how to contact him. So I’d have to go to his office.
Resolved in my decision, I decided to head to the kitchen and make a cup of coffee, enjoy those ceramic mugs for the last time. There was no way I could take them with me, couldn’t dare have the memory of all this physically represented in my space, not when it would take up permanent residence in my head.
I unlocked the bedroom door, and stepped out.
I squeaked, let out something between a wail and a choked-off scream when I saw Alex standing in the doorway.
He was dressed casually but the expression on his face was distant, unreadable.
I didn’t speak to him, couldn’t yet, so I walked to the kitchen and made coffee in the fancy coffee pot I’d finally figured out how to use.
Then I took the cup of coffee and stood in front of the beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows, taking in the sight of the city for one last time.
I heard Alex stir, listened as he went to the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee. But I didn’t speak to him, didn’t even look at him, not even when he came to stand next to me in front of the windows.
Instead I sipped my coffee, tried to prepare myself for the words I couldn’t leave unsaid.