Passionate Game (Kimani Hotties)

by Monkou, Michelle

  The time changed on the desk clock. Almost midnight, and he wasn’t even close to going home. He rubbed his chin, his fingers scratching the stubble of new growth. His eyes felt heavy and swollen.

  His phone rang. His staff knew that he was accessible twenty-four hours, every day of the week. But when his head of product security was calling at this late hour, something was up.

  “Grant here.”

  “Sir, we have a problem.”

  “I’m in the office. Come on up.”

  A few minutes later, his head of product security sat across from him. His grim demeanor set the tone that whatever he was about to tell him would not end well. Grant motioned with his hand for him to start.

  “I have a source at Trident News Media. They plan to preempt your launch tomorrow with their own report slamming the new product and system.”

  “That’s a pain in the butt, but not detrimental.” Competitors always caught the scent of a launch in its final days.

  “They are getting the information from a competitor, who is also going to put out a negative report on you.”

  Grant shrugged. “Annoying, but we’ll be fine.”

  “Since all of this happened fairly quickly, I did a quick sweep of the computers.”

  Grant nodded. His staff was aware that nothing on their computers was off-limits to security surveillance.

  “I’m still working on where the source is. But this problem has crossed departments. In the mix are the interns.”

  “Come again?” Grant didn’t expect that revelation.

  “Not all, but definitely a couple have been using the computers to communicate with someone. Nothing definitive, but highly suspect given the language.”

  Grant took the paperwork that was handed to him. He scanned the report. Disappointment mounted as he saw the names of the guys for whom he’d gone to bat.

  The last few pages showed copies of emails. The name on the email exchange pierced through his defenses, precise and deadly.

  “The head of the academy is involved.”

  Grant read the email. Clearly Tamara knew about the breach and was actively covering it up. He could accept her need to protect her students. She’d been protecting them from day one. But what he didn’t expect was that she hadn’t told him.

  Struggling to keep his emotions in check, he continued to listen to the man. There wasn’t much information, but he would spare nothing to root out any and all traitors in his company, and in his life.

  Grant got into his car and headed home. His temper rose as each minute ticked by. If it hadn’t been past midnight, he’d be at the academy or Tamara’s home, demanding an explanation. There was so much wrong and unfair in this mess that his rage bounced from her betrayal to the interns’ betrayal and her trickery all along. Most of all, his heart had been used. He would sit at home until the sun came up and then take matters into his own hands.

  He pulled into his driveway and slammed on his brakes. Tamara’s car was parked in her usual spot. He looked up at the house, noting that a few lights were on, which was not unusual. His pulse pounded now that he didn’t have to wait for the confrontation.

  As he entered the house, he listened for any signs that she was awake. All remained quiet on the first floor. He walked up the stairs slowly and entered his bedroom. The TV was on, but the sound was muted. She was asleep and curled up fully clothed on the bed. Her hair, loose with soft curls, fanned the pillow. He pushed back the instinct to kiss her awake.

  She stirred when he dropped his keys on the bureau. “Hey,” she said sleepily. She opened her arms for his embrace.

  “You knew that the guys spoke with a reporter,” Grant said. He wanted to snap her awake and out of that dreamy, sexy mood.

  “What?” She blinked.

  “I don’t have time to play twenty questions with you. So I’m going to lay it on the line. You used me. I can’t believe that you’d sink to using your students like pawns. You fed me all that B.S. about helping the troubled youth. You played me like a fool. Now, I know you don’t need money. So what do you get out of it? What do you get out of screwing over me and the company?”

  “You’ve got it all wrong.” She reached out to him, but he brushed her hand away. Touching her now would open the wound deeper, reminding him how much he’d shared with her.

  “Did you or did you not know that the guys were talking to a reporter?”

  “I took care of it. I squashed it last week.”

  Grant couldn’t believe his ears. “Last week? You knew since last week?”

  “That’s why I left you that day. But I took care of everything. Then we got busy. I would’ve told you today.”

  “These emails are from today.” He threw the papers at her.

  “I was checking in with the guys because I knew the launch would be any day. I wanted to make sure they hadn’t been approached again.”

  “You know what, just stop. Stop!” Grant motioned for her to stand. “Put on your shoes.” She complied. “I don’t want to sit here and try to sort out the lies from the truth. I don’t want to try and figure out if you ever felt one ounce of love for me, the way I felt about you. No strings attached—our freaking motto. That means you’re free to go.” During his speech, he escorted her to the front door. She didn’t cry. She didn’t beg him. She quietly walked to the door and stepped out.

  “You’re wrong, like I was once. I’m not Vanessa. I’m not playing games at the expense of your company, or at the expense of your heart.”

  * * *

  “Tamara, can I come in?” Becky poked her head through the door.

  Tamara hurriedly wiped away the tears before waving her in.

  “I was checking on you.”

  “You don’t have to whisper. I’m fine. I’m up and it’s a brand-new day.”

  “Oh?”

  “Why do you look surprised? Don’t you think that I should move on with my life? I have an academy to run. I have loyal employees and good friends.” She reached out and gripped Becky’s hand. “So why should I feel sad?” Her heart ached as if to remind her.

  “Oh.”

  “Is that all you have to say? Well, I’ll talk for you. Why don’t we have a party?”

  “Party?” Becky’s brow knitted.

  Tamara nodded. “I’m celebrating my new lease on life.”

  “You’re not overcoming some terminal illness.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “You’re acting too over the top.” Becky sat on the edge of the bed. “Frankly, that’s my job.”

  “It’s the new me.”

  “Sounds a bit fake.”

  “Get used to it.” Tamara attempted to shoo her out of the room. “I’ve got things to do.”

  “Like what?” Becky hadn’t budged.

  “I’m repainting my room.”

  Becky looked around the room and then at her. “Did you go through some religious awakening? Where’s the Tammy I know and love?”

  “The Tammy you knew and loved tried living by your rules—giving up everything for true love...or G-Dragon, if the two are the same.”

  “Ouch. Didn’t know you could be so sarcastic in the early morning. I’m a seeker, Tammy. I jump into things with both feet.”

  “And land on your face.”

  “Then I pick up, heal and try it again.”

  “Hmm. I think my heart will have a callus or two. And I’m fine with that.”

  “Now you’re going to be a cold, hard witch. Doesn’t suit you.”

  Tamara shrugged. “Keeping it real.”

  Becky left the room.

  Tamara pulled the stack of color samples from her bedside. Her walls would be blasted with a bold color. Some of the furniture would be traded for more modern pieces. And
when she was done with her room and office, then she’d move on to reinventing herself. She planned on a new hairdo, changes to her wardrobe and a few new pairs of shoes. Over time, she planned to wipe away all lasting effects of Grant Benson. Too bad she couldn’t do a mind makeover, but she’d take on one challenge at a time. Whatever it took to erase the longing in her heart, she was willing to do. Her pride stung. Her body craved. Her thoughts ran traitorous messages that she should make a move to reconciliation.

  “You’re full of crap!” Becky slammed open her bedroom door with such force it bounced off the wall.

  Tamara saw the fire blazing in Becky’s eyes.

  “Do you hear me?”

  Tamara shrugged. “I think the neighbors heard you. What’s your problem?”

  “That you’re wimping out. You’re willing to let Grant go.”

  Tamara shook her hand fiercely. “I didn’t let him go. He tossed me out like trash.”

  “He didn’t know everything. And now he’s apologized. The living room looks like a floral shop, and I’m having sneezing fits.” Becky had her hands clasped as if she could plead her case.

  “Why should his apology wipe away all that he said?” Tamara’s voice faded, choked behind the swell of emotion caught in her chest and throat.

  “He hurt you. I get that.”

  “No!” Tamara shouted. “You don’t get it. You and your romantic ideals are willing to let men trample over your emotions. Then you bounce up and give them a second chance. I tried it, and it’s not for me.”

  Tamara rushed to her bathroom for tissues. The tears stubbornly leaked from her eyes. She didn’t want to shed any more tears over Grant.

  “You’re wrong,” Becky said. “I do know what a broken heart feels like. I do know how living with regrets can break your spirit. No, I’m not always practical, but it’s who I am and want to be.”

  Tamara emerged from the bathroom rubbing her nose. “You’re right. We both deserve happiness, right? I love you for who you are. I promise not to take my anger out on you.”

  “Then take it out on me.” Grant stepped into the bedroom.

  “Oh...” Tamara couldn’t get one thought to stream in a coherent fashion in her mind. She could only stare at the man who filled her doorway with his height.

  As she gathered her thoughts to respond, she took in his appearance. His countenance shocked her. He appeared drawn, tired around the eyes. His shoulders drooped as if a burden sat on his shoulders, and his chiseled look had turned to a skinny look.

  “And why are you here?” The question erupted in a breathless gush, laced with more curiosity than anger.

  “I want a second chance.” Grant looked over to Becky. “I wanted so much to take back what I said in anger. Becky called me—”

  “Becky?” Tamara turned an accusatory gaze on her friend. The momentary buzz of something tender between them evaporated.

  “I did try to contact you, several times. You wouldn’t respond.”

  “You’re darn right I wouldn’t.” Now her anger was stoked again. Tamara bit down on her rage to hold on to a shred of pride.

  “I will leave you two to talk.” Becky hugged Tamara’s stiff body. “Give him a chance. I’m telling you that he’s the one,” she whispered into her ear.

  Tamara waited until Becky had left, closing the door behind her. Then she sat in the nearby chair, farthest from where Grant stood.

  “I will continue to apologize, but I want to open my heart to you.” He took a deep breath. “Open it in a way that I’ve never done. Ever.”

  She remained still while her pulse pounded powerful percussive beats, as if setting her anger to its own music.

  “My company was all I had in my heart. Everything revolved around that passion. I protect it like any guardian would with a ward.”

  Tamara heard the sincerity and knew that his passion matched what she felt about her academy.

  “Then you entered my life. Not just you, but ten young men. You came with an energy that was thrilling, intoxicating and sometimes frightening. I had never met anyone who could take ownership of me.” His fist hit his chest. His dark eyes blazed their message from across the room.

  Tamara gulped, exhaling slowly.

  “The young men. They have a place in my heart because I had never taken the time to mentor—really mentor—a group of young people who have challenged me to be humble, grateful and to put closure on my past. I kick myself every day for thinking that they would’ve betrayed me.”

  “You should,” she mumbled, still out of sorts.

  “I’m not perfect.”

  Her conscience pricked. Maybe she could learn a lesson or two. She cleared her throat.

  “I have come to care for those guys and will continue my mentorship of them.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  “I would do anything to have you say a kind word to me. But I mean what I say, and I do it because it’s sincere, not for your approval.”

  She nodded. “Every child who comes through the class is someone I respect and care for as if they were my younger sibling. I never want to count them out. Sometimes that gets me in trouble when they haven’t quite made the leap to being responsible.”

  “I know.”

  “No, you don’t know.” Tamara took a deep breath and exhaled to blow aside her nerves.

  “Nothing you say will stop me from loving you.”

  “Can you love someone who you may not respect?” In Tamara’s mind, the two were not inseparable. She began, “I once knew a guy named Darth Dawson, who had the academic potential and attitude to make something of himself. He’d enrolled at my college and was accepted, like any qualified student. Then the news hounds got wind that he was an ex-con who had served time for manslaughter, in a case fraught with circumstantial evidence and civil rights violations. Before long, students divided between having his admission revoked or accepting him and giving him a chance.” She paused. Other than Darth’s mother, she had never admitted her role or fully voiced her regret. “I was on the side of the trustees, and I wanted to protect the reputation of the university and to appease the donors who threatened to withdraw their contributions over this one person.”

  “What happened?” Grant had moved closer, but he correctly read her body language that she didn’t want to be comforted; not yet, at least.

  “Darth was kicked out. The unprecedented action created lots of debate, but it all came to a head when news of his death in a shoot-out with cops hit the campus a week later. The police ruled it suicide by cop.” She shuddered. “I went to the funeral and heard his mother, his lawyer and all the advocates who hadn’t given up on him when he was in the state juvenile system. I came away with a new focus, a new desire to do what I should have done all those years ago.”

  “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.” Grant took her hand and held it.

  “Maybe. But ever since, I vowed to do right by him. The young men that I take under my wing may have backgrounds that often don’t garner sympathy or willing hands of help. So my staff and I are there to empower them to change their lives.”

  Tamara looked at Grant for his reaction. If she was going to start this new chapter of her life, as Darth’s mother had prompted, she had to unburden completely.

  “Come, sit with me.” Grant sat on the edge of the bed, patting the empty space next to him. She joined him.

  He asked, “And nowhere in that story of forgiveness, sacrifice and compassion is there a place for me?”

  “I can’t think about us.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “You know what Oprah says...”

  Grant held and kissed her—long and hard. He released her, breathing heavily, before looking into her face, into her soul. “I don’t give a damn about Oprah. I’m standin
g in front of you, flesh and blood, and I want you to understand what you have in front of you.” He placed her hand on his chest. “I am a man who is in love with you.”

  Tamara clenched her fist to block off the electric buzz as they connected. Too late. Nothing she did could deny what her body and her heart craved.

  “I thought that I wanted to be a bachelor all my life. Did everything in my power to stay true to that vision.” He exhaled. “I’m not going to lie, it started out feeling like this was for me. You had Oprah, and I had Clooney as my role model.” He touched her cheek, stroking its outline. “We’re neither. I’m your man and you’re my woman, and I’m not afraid to have you in my life, not for one second.”

  Tamara nodded. Her soft sniffles mixed with her laughter. “I’m not afraid, either.”

  Everything Grant had said was true. The time for fantasies and living in fear were over. She wanted her man, forever and ever.

  * * * * *

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  PASSIONATE GAME

  ISBN: 9781460313671

  Copyright © 2013 by Michelle Monkou