Finn (Blue-Collar Billionaires #2)

by M. Malone

  “Finn?”

  I turn toward the sound of Rissa’s voice. That’s what woke me up. My mind is still muddled from dreams and the pills. But I’m not so out of it that I don’t realize that she shouldn’t be here.

  “I’m in the back. Just a second,” I call out finally before attempting to stand.

  Hours of sitting have turned my knees to jelly and as soon as I’m upright, I list to the side, crashing into the dresser. Bottles of cologne shake and rattle on the top and something crashes to the floor. I grab at the wood awkwardly to keep myself upright.

  “Damn it!” I want to scream at my own weakness. But this is something I’ve had to learn to deal with. My body is unpredictable now and it betrays me regularly.

  Then I feel strong arms slip underneath me, supporting me. Rissa’s arm curls around my waist and she takes my weight against her as she helps me to the bed. She has me sitting before I can protest the help. It doesn’t mean I don’t resent needing it though.

  “Rissa? What are you doing here?” I’m aware that the question comes out grumpy as hell and not at all the appreciative thank you that I should be sending her way.

  It doesn’t seem to faze her. Once she’s convinced that I’m steady, she takes a step back. “I heard you fall.”

  “I’m okay. I was just sitting for too long. But actually that wasn’t what I meant. I meant, why did you come back? Unless my sense of timing is really off and it’s tomorrow morning already.”

  She smiles slightly. “No, I left some of my supplies here. Then I heard the noise. Well, I was worried about you.”

  I’m not too weak to feel ashamed as her gaze roams over the scars on my chest and my bare leg revealed by my boxers. The thought that she might feel sorry for me is almost too much to bear. I’d rather have her fight me, yell at me, or even walk away before I’d ever have her look at me with pity.

  “You remember what I said would happen if you stepped foot in this room?”

  Her eyes suddenly turn wary. Her hands are still on my shoulders so she snatches them back. I snag one of her wrists and pull her closer. She stumbles and lands against me.

  "You should have listened."

  Then I yank her against my chest hard and take her lips in a bruising kiss.

  Despite her initial surprise, her lips part immediately for the thrust of my tongue. If I thought that I was going to dominate and take over, I was wrong. Rissa melts against me like whipped cream and she's twice as sweet. She leans against me using my body to support her so she can curl one leg up around my waist. Then she straddles my lap and I can't stop myself from grinding against her. I nip down her neck, breathing in her fresh scent. Just the way she smells brings up so many memories. I take her lips again and our tongues duel before she finally pulls back, her hands in the center of my chest to hold me back.

  "Why are you doing this, Finn?"

  “There was a time when I believed that we were meant for each other. You told me that you’d always be mine and that together, we'd make our way in the world. Well, those days are long gone but the time has come for you to make good on at least some of that. I want what you promised me. I want you to make this place a home.”

  She looks horrified by what I’m saying and there’s a part of me that knows this is exactly what I deserve.

  “So you’re doing this to punish me?” she gasps.

  “Yes. But I'm doing this just because I want to." Then my hands travel down over her back to land on her full curvy ass. As I squeeze the round globes, she whimpers into my mouth.

  The sound seems to wake her up because she pulls away and stares at me. "I wish I knew if this was real or if it’s just one more way for you to hurt me." She disentangles herself from my grip and then hustles from the room.

  "I wish I knew too, angel."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  RISSA

  Several unopened boxes of wet wipes fall from the shelves above me, pelting my arms and neck. With a curse, I bend and pick them all up before stuffing them back in their storage container. For the first time in a year, I have a chance of being able to find what I need in the crowded storage room without a map, a prayer and three wishes from a genie.

  “Uh oh. You only organize like this when you’re upset.”

  I pause in the act of stacking the boxes of rubber gloves by size. “I’m not upset. This place is just filthy.”

  And I need to do something to take my mind off vengeful millionaires and mind-numbing kisses.

  “Did Andrew call again? You'd tell me if he did, right?” Tara’s voice is hushed. It’s after six in the evening and I’d assumed there was no one else in the building. Apparently I was wrong if Tara is still here.

  “No, I haven’t heard from him since I hung up on him.” I mess with the boxes again. Suddenly the need to tell someone outweighs my embarrassment at being in this situation. I turn to Tara. “Do you remember what I told you about my life before I met Andrew?”

  Tara perches on the edge of the desk. “Yeah, I remember you said you had a hard time.”

  I shove the eco-friendly toweling we use farther back on the shelf. “You’re being kind. I was poor. Dirt poor. Mom worked really hard but she was on her own and we considered it a step up when we moved to the trailer park.”

  “And then you met Andrew.”

  “But before him, there was someone else. Someone I dated in high school.”

  Tara’s eyes gleam. “Wait a minute. You’ve never told me this before! You had a high school sweetheart?”

  “I’ve never told anyone this before.” I pick at the edge of one of the cardboard boxes until it rips down the side. Finally I turn to face Tara.

  “His name was Finn. He was from the neighborhood, too so he understood what it was like to be looked down on by the other kids. Not that anyone made fun of him.” I laugh aloud thinking about Finn in high school. “He was the type of guy who could make friends with anyone. He was so … perfect. That was how I always felt around him. Like how could this perfect guy fall for me?”

  Tara makes a face. “Of course he fell for you. You’re awesome.”

  “I wasn’t awesome back then. I was insecure and just … so stupid. I didn’t trust in what we had and when he went into the Army, I don’t know. It was just so hard. Finn was the type of guy that women love. And he loves them back, you know? And then I met Andy and he seemed so stable and so safe. That was what I wanted more than anything. Just someone that I could trust to be there for me.”

  Tara watches me as I come sit next to her on the desk. “What happened, sweetie?”

  “I left him. Told him that it wasn’t going to work out. I broke his heart.”

  Tara sighs. We sit just like that for a while before I work up the courage to finish. “The new client. The jerk. It’s Finn.”

  “Oh boy.”

  “Apparently he’s some rich big shot now and wants to torture me by making me clean and decorate his million dollar fuckpad.”

  “Maybe he wants you back? He might sound like he’s angry now but he went through a lot of trouble to get you in his life again. Maybe this is his twisted way of reconnecting?”

  “He just wants to rub my nose in the fact that he’s wealthy now.” I can’t even keep the self-pity out of my voice.

  Tara looks stricken. Then she suddenly jumps to her feet. “You know what? He can stuff his contract. You don’t need this. We can always find a few other contracts to replace this one. We were fine before and we’ll be fine again.”

  “We’re not fine. We’re barely hanging on. If we want to keep our business running and for all our employees to keep pulling paychecks, I’m going to have to take one for the team.”

  Tara doesn’t look convinced. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to walk away. Just say the word. You’ve always supported me when I needed you and I know Daphne would say the exact same thing if she were here.”

  I think about what she’s offering for only a split second before I discard the idea. Although I
know that Daph and Tara would essentially bankrupt themselves to keep me away from Finn, I wouldn’t be any kind of friend if I let them do it. This is my mess. And I’ll be the one to clean it up. Literally and figuratively.

  Maybe this is my chance to finally clean the slate of my past and offer heartfelt amends for my mistakes. Only then will I ever be able to move on.

  “No, but thank you. I can deal with a vengeful ex for that amount of money. There’s nothing he can do that would be worse than what I did to myself.”

  * * * * *

  When I arrive at Finn’s place on Monday morning I’m armed with industrial strength rubber gloves and the determination not to let anything he does get to me. I used the weekend to get my head on straight and now that I know what’s going on, there’s no point in trying to make nice or ask for forgiveness. Finn needs to punish me for the way I hurt him years ago and I can’t pretend I don’t understand his desire to do so.

  All I can do is grin and get through it because I need this contract even more than he needs closure.

  I push the door open and the smell hits me first. As I walk past the kitchen it’s so strong that I have to cover my nose with my hand.

  What the hell crawled in here and died?

  I turn around and take in the rest of the apartment with growing dismay. There are clothes strewn all over the place, even on top of the television. There’s something hanging from the bookcase that appears to be a sock and the air is rife with the stench of old alcohol bottles even though I don’t see any. I guess he threw those away at some point.

  Did he have a party over the weekend? Finn used to be the type that I could imagine hosting a drunken rager any day of the week but the man I met last week seemed more sedate than that. Then I remember his last words to me.

  So this is how it’s going to be. He means to punish me and this is how he’s going to do it.

  Once I walk in the kitchen and look down at the counter, I discover the culprit. Finn must have had a tuna sandwich yesterday and left the remains out overnight.

  Ugh. He’s clearly committed to his make-Rissa-pay plan because the trashcan is right below the counter where he left the funky sandwich. I think it actually might have taken him more effort to leave it on the counter than if he’d just done the proper thing and thrown it away.

  I blow out a sigh and survey the room. With a mess like this, it honestly doesn’t even matter where I start so I just pull on rubber gloves and unroll a trash bag. I walk around the room picking up debris. In some cases I’m not even sure if what I’m picking up is in fact trash but I’m not going to worry about it. He’s paying me to clean not think. Plus, he’s clearly rich enough to replace anything I accidentally throw away.

  And this place is going to be spotless when I’m done. If he’s hoping to find fault with my work so he can void the contract, then he’s not getting that satisfaction. This place is going to be so clean that it would even pass my mother’s white glove test.

  For the next hour, I work steadily. Most of it was surface damage. I’m pretty sure Finn just took a bag of laundry and tossed its contents as far as he could reach. But underneath it all, the place really isn’t dirty since I just cleaned it a few days ago. So after my initial sweep to get all the trash, I herd all the dirty clothes into a pile and wipe down all the surfaces. After that, I tackle the hall bathroom. When I poke my head in the guest bedroom, I’m hesitant, worried that he might have trashed it too. But it looks the same. The bed doesn't look like it's been touched. I dust the night tables and the headboard quickly before poking my head in the office. The only things in the room are a desk and chair. It doesn't take long to wipe them down.

  All in all, the place looks pretty good. I’m surveying my handiwork with a satisfied smile when Finn appears.

  When he sees me standing in the living room, he nods. “Oh you’re done. Good. I need you.”

  “I’m already finished cleaning.”

  He smirks. “You didn’t read the contract did you?”

  I clench my teeth together to keep in the smart remark on the tip of my tongue. What the hell is up with everyone and this damn contract?

  “Yes, I read it.”

  “Then you know I own your time between the hours of eight and twelve.”

  “But I’m done.” I gesture around the sparkling apartment. All of the furniture has been restored to its rightful positions and all the surfaces gleam. I’m not sure what else he thinks I can do in here.

  “Not here. We’re going out. I need new stuff. And you’re going to help me choose it.”

  My patience finally snaps. After working for the past two hours straight, my back is screaming and my feet hurt. I want to smack that grin right off his face, contract be damned.

  "You know what, no. You are paying me to clean. You want to trash your own apartment just to get back at me, real mature by the way, that's fine. You want to make me pick up your skanky girlfriend's underwear and show off how many Magnum condoms you've used in the past few days, that's fine too. But I'm not some dog that you can snap your fingers at and expect me to follow. I may work for you but you don't own me."

  His eyes burn as he steps forward. "Oh yes I do. I didn't write that contract to buy a cleaning lady. I did it to buy you. For the next six months between the hours of eight and twelve, you are mine."

  I'm so frustrated that his harsh words bring tears to my eyes. I hate that I cry when I'm angry. I want to be strong and yell back at him but this kind of fury makes me feel very small. "I am not yours. I'm not anybody’s."

  He stalks forward again and I instinctively shrink away. He doesn't seem to notice. He rests his forehead against mine, the harsh rasp of his breath hitting my cheek. When he pulls me closer, I am too stunned to protest.

  "You are mine just as much as I am yours. This hold you've had on me has gone on too long. You walked away from me but when you left you took a part of me with you. I haven't been able to sleep without you walking in and out of my dreams. I can't close my eyes without feeling your presence. You're always with me. I can't live like this anymore."

  His lips feather over my forehead and the frustration I feel morphs into a different kind of ache altogether. Maybe this is part of his plan, to hold me the way he used to and make me feel all the things that no other man has ever made me feel.

  "You want revenge for the way I treated you. I know that. And you won't believe me but I am truly sorry for the way I left things. You deserved so much more than that. So much better than me. It's better if I assign someone else to come here so we don't have to see each other. It's just hurting us both."

  He looks down at me. "If you do that I will void the contract and tie you up in court so long you'll go bankrupt just from all the legal fees. Don't push me on this, Rissa. You have no idea how far I'm willing to go."

  "Is this really what you want? It's not healthy for you to keep all this anger inside. You have to move on."

  "That's just it angel, I can't move on until my heart accepts the true nature of who you are. A girl who could ditch me for a richer guy and not look back. But the only way that'll happen is if I spend time with you. So you are going to go where I need you to go. You are going to talk to me. And I am going to purge you from my fucking system or I'll destroy us both trying."

  * * * * *

  I tuck my hands under my legs again as we ride along in silence. We’re being driven somewhere, Finn wouldn’t tell me where, in the back of the most gorgeous car I’ve ever seen. It takes all my will power not to reach out and touch all the shiny surfaces. The things he said to me, no growled at me, are swimming around my head. I'm offended by the fact that he feels he has essentially bought me like a horse but even more, I'm entranced by his assertion that he needs to purge me. That he's obsessed with me after all this time.

  I shouldn't have felt such a thrill of pleasure when he said that.

  Finally I can’t take the silence anymore. “You have a Bentley?”

  He chuckles. He’s si
tting on the other side of the seat with his cane between us. The car is so spacious it almost feels like I should be yelling so he can hear me.

  “I haven't had it long. I found that driving on this leg some days is painful." He looks at me speculatively. "I don’t remember you being into cars.”

  “I wasn’t but you were. I paid attention some of the time.” Our eyes meet and there’s this strangely soft expression on his face, like he’s remembering.

  “You always noticed everything. You always seemed to know when I was upset about something.” He looks away, out the window to the traffic rushing past.

  Thinking about the past doesn’t help us, it only mires us in all the things we did wrong. I cough and bring us back to the reason why we’re here.

  “Okay so you need stuff.”

  “I do. House stuff.”

  “That doesn’t tell me anything. What kind of stuff do you need? Couches, chairs, dining table. What?”

  “Honestly I don’t know. The place came partially furnished and I haven’t cared to do much since then. I’ve been recuperating.”

  His hand lands on top of the head of the cane. He toys with it absently as he talks. I’m struck again with the intense desire to know what happened to him. To hear him talk about his life after we parted, as if knowing can somehow erase all the time and distance between us.

  “It looks great already just a little empty. There’s no artwork on the walls and the dining area is empty. It feels like a model home, not a place where someone actually lives.”

  “That’s what we’re going to fix.”

  The scenery outside has changed to a more rural landscape. We pass through an area with large, stately homes and well-manicured lawns. We’re not in Norfolk anymore or at least not any part that I’ve ever seen. The car finally slows and turns on a narrow lane. A large Victorian style home appears at the end of the drive. It looks like a dollhouse.