Stroke of Midnight

by ANDIE J. CHRISTOPHER

  “Ugh. I can’t believe you forgot it.”

  Speak of the devil. Carla swept into the lobby with Geoff trailing after her. She looked as if she was about to grab him by the crotch and twist.

  “Sweetie, I don’t know what ‘Passion’s Pink Promise’ is.”

  “It’s lipstick, which I needed for photographs so that my mother doesn’t yell at me about looking washed out in our engagement photos.” Carla stopped and turned on him. Uh oh. “Only every time she passes the photos in our presence—for the rest of our lives.”

  That was true.

  Javi sat down on the arm of Alana’s chair, startling her. “Are you going to do something about that? Mom put you in charge of the betrotheds.”

  “Nope. I’m hoping she kills him, and I don’t have to go upstairs.”

  Her brother looked down at her then. “I hope so, too.” She scowled at him. “You look like shit.”

  “Still not talking to you.”

  “You were just talking to me.”

  Alana turned on him. Carla and Geoff would work this out. Or not. But the time had come for her to have it out with her big brother. He’d done enough damage, and he still didn’t get it.

  “Cole didn’t cheat on me. He wouldn’t.”

  “Then why’d you walk out on him?”

  “Because he wouldn’t stand up to you. If he’d been serious about me, he would have told you to fuck off and punched you in your stupid face. And then he lied to me about you offering him a job. Do you really think I need to manage one more chauvinist in the office?” She added some volume to her voice because both of her parents had gotten off the elevator and maybe it was time her dad heard just how valuable she’d been to the company.

  “What do you mean?” Javi genuinely looked confused. He needed so much therapy—or so many blows to the head that he circled round to smart again.

  “Fine.” She looked over at her parents, and they approached with concerned looks on their faces. Her mother was probably worried over the scene she might cause.

  “I’m supposed to protect you.”

  “How about you protect me by doing your damn job and staying out of my love life?”

  Her father finally spoke. “What are you talking about, mija?”

  “I’ve been taking on eighty percent of Javi’s work since Karrie left because he’s too busy with drinking and strippers to pitch in.”

  Javi didn’t have an answer for it. “They were mostly models, not strippers,” he mumbled. Alana pinched him in his side like she used to when he stole her dolls’ clothes and posed them together when he was fourteen. He jumped. That felt great.

  “He’s gone by lunch, and I’ve been covering for him. But you guys still think I’m to find a husband and quit so I can become a baby factory, so you treat me like a secretary—”

  A shriek from Carla and Geoff’s direction interrupted her tirade, but she’d gotten her point across. Her father looked at Javi with a cross expression on his face. “We’ll talk about this on Monday.”

  Alana was destined to come to the rescue in that situation, too. She dug out the lipstick at the bottom of her bag—she’d packed it all in the event that she needed to repaint her face after lapsing into tears. She walked over to the shifted family tableau and tossed her tube of “Passion’s Pink Promise” at her sister. “Catch.”

  It beaned her in the forehead, and Alana had to suppress a laugh. She was still a little mad at her for ratting her out. “Now you won’t be washed out for the engagement pictures. But, since I’m laying things out today, you and Mommy are putting way too much pressure on this wedding.” They weren’t putting enough pressure on the actual marriage, in Alana’s opinion, but they could talk about that later. “And it is clearly not helping any of us. If you all are done, I think we should join the guests on the roof. I need a cocktail.”

  As her family followed her upstairs, Carla and Geoff continued bickering. Correction: she needed ten cocktails.

  Chapter 19

  Cole exited the elevator onto the rooftop of the Four Seasons, again shocked by how fucking fancy the place was. He’d never get used to it. If it meant that he’d get to be with Alana, he’d put on a monkey suit every day of the week.

  He scanned the crowd for her, needing to look her in the eyes and apologize even though he hadn’t thought of a thing to say during the drive back to Miami or the day he’d spent walking up and down Collins Avenue thinking about how to fix this.

  The rooftop was huge and had a large reflecting pool in the center. The torches that lit the space flickered on the surface of the pool, and they were dazzling. But they didn’t light up the place enough to find her.

  He was desperate to see her; that’s how he knew he’d made the right choice. She grounded him, and he didn’t belong in D.C. anymore. He belonged where she was.

  He heard the commotion before he saw them. Carla’s caterwauling carried over all the other people talking. They must be used to a yelling Carla and a hang-faced Geoff because they just kept on eating and drinking.

  Until the screeching went up about twenty decibels and the spread that had been worth a little drama held fewer guests’ interests. People had started to notice and turn into the skirmish that was about to turn into an all-out battle.

  Carla brandished a glass of white wine with bigger arm movements as her tirade went on. Cole was far enough away that he didn’t hear her words, just the tone, which could break glass.

  He considered looking for some earplugs before going in. That’s when he saw her. Alana ignored her sister and sucked on a straw. He felt his dick harden at the sight of her hollowed cheeks. Down boy. Hopefully, there’d be time for that later.

  What concerned him more was that she sat, slumped on a bar stool, surrounded by empty glasses. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and get her out of there right that second. She looked like shit. And it was all his fault. What could he do to put a smile on her face?

  The most obvious option, and the one that his dick currently endorsed, was out. He doubted that she’d let him take her down to a room. Hell, he probably couldn’t get near her without more nut sack protection.

  The salsa band played louder to cover Carla’s increased volume, and it gave him an idea.

  * * * *

  Alana waved down the bartender for another vodka soda—her third. The only way she’d get through the night was copious amounts of alcohol. Carla had moved on to yelling at Geoff about not thinking about her needs. Poor guy.

  Her parents talked to guests and tried to get more waiters to circulate with wine. That hadn’t stopped all the whispering that had started when the “happy couple” started fighting.

  Alana couldn’t bring herself to care, and Javi had the same idea that she had. She almost raised her glass in a silent toast until she remembered that she was still mad at him. It drained away the more she realized his brotherly misdeeds came from cluelessness instead of malice.

  How many more vodka sodas would she have to stay for before she could call an Uber and slip away unnoticed? She wondered whether she could bring a plate of food home with her.

  She groaned when the salsa band played the first strains of the last song she ever wanted to hear again—“Poison” by Bel Biv Devoe. She thought the band might be trying to give Geoff a warning until she heard the Southern-fried voice mangling the lyrics.

  This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t really here. Her pulse sped up and her glass slipped out of her hand, to the bar. No spillage, but still. She almost didn’t turn around. Couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her now empty hand started shaking.

  “Girl, I must warn you. . .”

  When she turned around, the image she’d imagined was nothing compared to Cole’s dancing. All the guests’ chatter stopped as Cole shimmied to the song.

  “The situation is serious . . .”

  Although he’d slow danced with her on their first date, he barely kept rhythm with
the band. He moved without self-consciousness, totally amazing considering he was humiliating himself. She laughed out loud before she remembered she was mad at him. What the hell did he think this would solve?

  Carla stopped yelling. Her parents were dancing—they must have started drinking long before the party. Her chest ached, not with anger; that was gone. Who told him he could sing? It was so bad it had stolen focus from her messy family.

  He was laying himself bare for her, in the same way he’d done for his ex. It was perfect. She could kiss him. She would.

  Before she realized that she’d moved, she was at the edge of the reflecting pool that bisected the roof. Party guests clumped on all sides. She needed to touch him now.

  She slipped off her shoes and started across the reflecting pool. That’s when he stopped singing and dancing. Gracias a Dios.

  He left the band playing, and the guests’ attention followed him. He walked right in to the reflecting pool—shoes and all.

  They gazed into each other eyes. She hadn’t been able to see his eyes while he sang and danced; she hadn’t been able to the see the intensity there. Now, it seared her from the outside in. Her fingers itched to touch him, especially now that she recognized that she loved him.

  An eternity passed before his arms wrapped around her. She hid her heated face in the crook of his arm. He smelled so good that she could have stayed there, with her feet wet for hours. He was really here, and he’d made an ass of himself for her.

  * * * *

  Cole set Alana away from him. She had shadows underneath her eyes, and her face was a little puffy. She still looked beautiful, but he’d made her cry, and now he’d do whatever it took to make it up to her. Singing and dancing in public was just the start.

  “What the hell was that?” She sounded bewildered, and Cole thought he’d messed up again. But the lilt in her voice and the way her eyes sparked told a different story. He hadn’t been this afraid of anything since he was shot. His chest was about to explode just waiting for her to tell him to buzz off.

  He deserved that; by not telling her the truth and not standing up to Javier, he deserved to have her slap him in the face. Even though the band had started playing again, he could feel the gazes of the party guests on them. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into the collar of his shirt.

  It was taking forever for her to respond. Her lips were pressed together and she gripped his forearms tightly. He thought that was a good sign, but he needed her to say something.

  “I thought we were just a fling?”

  She might as well have punched him in the gut. Acting a fool in front of her family and all their rich friends wasn’t enough. He wasn’t the best at explaining things, wasn’t great at putting his thoughts into words, but he’d have to this time.

  “You wanted one night of fun with zero strings attached? Do you know how many nights of fun that I’ve had with zero strings attached?” She got an evil gleam in her eyes and she set her jaw. “No, don’t answer that. But, that was never what was between us. At first it was just the sex, but there was a reason that no other girl in that bar would do. No other girl will ever do. Not for me.”

  “Why did you tell Javi that you weren’t serious about me, that we were just banging?” She bit her lip, and he brushed his thumb against the corner of her mouth until she released it.

  His own words, repeated back, were like pins under his fingernails. “Jesus. I didn’t mean it. I fucked up. I didn’t know whether you wanted to be serious, but I knew that you didn’t want your family to know.” And he’d assumed that she didn’t want her family to know because she didn’t think he was good enough. It all came back to that. “You kept saying it was a fling; I believed you.”

  “I was wrong. I fell in love with you.”

  Light burst inside him. He cupped her face in his hands and lightly touched his lips to hers. He moved his mouth to her ear, took in a sniff of her hair, and said, “You did?”

  “Yes. But I thought you didn’t feel the same way about me. Especially because you told Javi. And then the job offer. I thought you were using me to get a job. I thought I was a pawn.” He pulled back and saw her nibbling the inside of her mouth. He stroked her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry about that. I don’t blame you for being mad that I didn’t tell you about the job offer. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to take it because I want to be near you, but I knew you’d hate that Javi went behind your back.”

  “I did. I really hate that. But I should have talked to you about it instead of assuming the worst. I promise to do better.”

  Her words touched a part of him that he’d thought was dead for years. He loved her so much that he thought he’d tear in half.

  He almost didn’t know what to say. “You suck at having one-night stands, darlin’.”

  One corner of her mouth canted up. “I thought we did pretty well at ours.”

  “Ours wasn’t a one-night stand, though. You made me fall in love with you. And now you’re not getting rid of me.” Not ever.

  Epilogue

  This New Year’s Eve, Alana rushed out of the office at noon. Before she left, she dropped a stack of spreadsheets on Javi’s desk.

  “Look these over, and make sure they’re squared away for the client meeting next week.” Her brother looked up at her. His clothes were wrinkled and his eyes were bloodshot. But he didn’t have glitter smeared on his face, so he probably wasn’t out clubbing. “You slept at the office again last night?”

  “Yeah, our father has decided that I need to make up for the time I was out because of shit with Karrie.”

  Alana smiled at him and ruffled his hair. “You weren’t AWOL because of Karrie. That was because you’re a man whore and you decided to drown yourself in strippers and vodka.”

  “They were models. And I don’t have time to be a man whore anymore.” He lifted the files she’d just dropped. “And why do I need to look at these? You’re always perfect anyway. Where are you going to be?”

  She shrugged. “Cole wouldn’t tell me what he’s planning, but it’s our anniversary. So, I’m assuming lots of sex.” Javi looked vaguely nauseous at that last part, so she said, “But with him it’s always lots of sex, so he might have something else planned. Anyway, he told me that I shouldn’t plan to come in until next week.”

  He made a retching noise and waved towards the doorway. “Go. At least I won’t have to hear about you having sex with my best friend—or see anything I never needed to see—until next week.”

  Javi had walked in on her and Cole during lunch more than once—it was really handy to have her boyfriend working in the same office. Her brother had since learned that knocking was not optional.

  “Happy New Year, Javi.”

  “Whatever. Get out.”

  * * * *

  Alana walked into the same hotel suite at the Delano that she and Cole had shared a year before. This time, she got past the entryway before he pushed her against the wall, and kissed her. How she felt when he did that didn’t change. She softened and opened immediately, forgot everything as his tongue stroked her as though he was trying to drink her in.

  He didn’t pull back until she was on the verge of coming. When he did, she looked around. The lights were out, and candles covered almost every surface.

  Cole wore the same linen shirt and pants he’d worn last New Year’s Day. He took her hand and lead over to the bar where he had four shots lined up next to a bottle of Patron Silver.

  She dropped her bag and pressed herself up against the side of his body. She lifted on her tiptoes, and said, “You don’t need to get me liquored up to get lucky.”

  Cole’s hand was clammy and he shifted on his feet like he was nervous. Her gut told her that something was different about tonight, and for some reason, she doubted that she could keep four shots down.

  “Just humor me, darlin’.”

  Alana took the shot and bit down on the lime that he offer
ed. She threw the lime in the trash and said, “I see I’ve got you well trained. You know exactly how I like it.”

  Cole brushed her arm with the tips of his fingers, and she felt his hooded gaze rake over her body. “You know my favorites, too.” He offered her another shot.

  “Seriously, I have an empty stomach. If you get me so drunk that I pass out, you definitely aren’t getting lucky tonight.” His crooked grin faltered just a little bit, and that’s when she looked at the fourth shot glass. It had what looked like a diamond ring in it.

  She looked between the glass and his face, again and again. “Yes.”

  He smiled and handed her another glass—not the one with the ring.

  She downed the second shot. “Yes.”

  He just handed her the third shot. “Yes?”

  It burned but she drank it down, not bothering with lime or salt. “Yes!”

  He handed her the fourth glass, and said, “Alana, I love you, will you do me the honor of—”

  Before he finished, again she said, “Yes.”

  He fished the ring out of the glass, and slipped it on her finger. She swayed on her feet from drinking that much tequila and her joy at getting to be his wife.

  He shot the remaining tequila as she dug her fingers into his hair, pulled his face down to hers, and kissed him. She was greedy for this man, and wanted him naked immediately.

  He broke the kiss as he started for the bedroom, with her hand in his. “Thank God you said yes, darlin’.”

  “Why? You thought I’d say no?”

  “I had a pretty good idea of what the answer would be, but there would have been consequences if I couldn’t make an honest woman out of you.”

  She was unsure what he meant. “Did Javi threaten you?”

  “No, but your grandaddy showed me his gun collection over Christmas.”

  She stopped walking and pulled him around to face her and asked, “Is that why you’re proposing? I don’t need to get married. I’m happy.”