by Kira Blakely
“This is not what we’re going to use my office for,” I said with a laugh, weaving my fingers through his hair.
“Only on lunch breaks,” he said, his voice vibrating against my ribcage. He was tracing the shape of my collarbones with his forefinger. He had that faraway look on his face that told me that he was satisfied, that he didn’t have a single care in the world.
“Your father won’t be pleased,” I said, raising an eyebrow. We hadn’t thought about anything else except each other since that night of the ball. I was beginning to wonder if Nash had thought this through yet. What being with me would mean for the other aspects of his life.
He lifted his head up to look at me with amusement in his eyes.
“Do I look like I give a fuck?” he said and we both burst out laughing.
26
Eight months later
Nash
I swirled the finger of whiskey around in my crystal-cut glass, and it twinkled when it caught the light from the floor lamps in its ridges. Father was in his usual business suit, even though he probably hadn’t left the house all day. He was sitting across from me, in his spot on the couch, under the portrait of my great-great-grandfather, who had been an English Duke.
“So how do you spend your days now?” Father said, and I swirled the whiskey around some more, taking my time with that question. I was in no hurry to please him.
“On site, helping with the engineering work. On most days,” I replied, after several seconds. I hadn’t seen him in many months, probably four or five, and even in that short span of time he looked like he had grown older. A new woman, this time much closer to his age, who had greeted me at the door when I came to the house.
“So, you’re never actually in the office? Who is looking after the business?” he asked, in a sharp accusatory voice.
“I am. I give the business side of things my equal attention,” I said, taking a sip of the drink in my hand.
My father’s blue gaze skewered me; he was extremely displeased. “But you can’t give up the engineering, is that it? You have all this wealth, the success of the company depends on you, and yet you have to pretend like you’re some kind of blue-collar working-class man,” he said, sticking his nose up in the air and looking away from me.
I shook my head and smiled into my glass. I knew exactly what he was going to say next.
“It’s because of that Bonnie Calhoun. She’s the one who’s gotten you involved in all this,” he said.
I met his eyes, arching an eyebrow. “You’re right, Father. She’s the one who gave me the strength and inspiration to pursue my passion. I couldn’t have done it without her.” I knew that the smile on my face bothered him. He jerked his head away from me again, and this time I nearly laughed.
“So, you’re still cohabiting with her?” he asked, looking up at another one of our ancestor’s portrait. It was like he was praying to the regal old man with his eyes closed. I couldn’t believe I had been so afraid of this man in my childhood. That I had allowed him to affect my life this much.
“Yes, I live with Bonnie. She’s my girlfriend,” I said, placing the empty glass back down on the coffee table in front of me.
“You better watch out, son. Women like her, they’re only ever after our money. She lost her company and now thinks she can just milk the loss out of you,” he said.
My temples throbbed. This was why I’d stayed away from him for so long, because I couldn’t bear to hear him be nasty to Bonnie.
“She doesn’t need my money, Father, and she’s not after yours either. She’s managed just fine without it for twenty-eight years. And she isn’t like the women you cohabit with either. Luckily for me, I have better taste,” I said and stood up.
Father looked up at me, visibly offended by what I’d said. “I worked hard for this company, son. As did my father. We came to this country to establish an empire and we did. And now my own son is going to run it to the ground. I should never have asked you to take my place. I should never have signed it over to you,” he thundered, his voice choking in a fit of coughs. He was getting old and frail, and I felt a pang of guilt for not sympathizing with him.
I clenched my jaws and pushed my hands into my pockets, giving him a few moments to compose himself. If he hadn’t been such an asshole to me all my life, I might even have felt a little sorry for him. But I couldn’t, not after all the ways he had found to make me feel like I was never good enough. The truth was that he wasn’t good enough. At least not a good enough father.
“You didn’t ask me to take your place; you forced me to. You emotionally blackmailed me into giving my career up to run this business. And now you can’t trust me to run it well. It’s mine now anyway, Father, and I can do with it as I please,” I said and, without waiting for a response, I walked away from him, toward the door of his living room.
“You were fine before you met her!” he cried from behind me, and I forced myself to not turn around.
No, I wasn’t fine before I met Bonnie. My father didn’t know how I had felt all my life. He didn’t know how everything had changed when I met her in college. How I strove to impress her, how I studied hard so she would have some reason to look at me, even if it was to pass me a look of contempt. My father had no clue how my life had changed after Bonnie moved in with me.
I didn’t need the approval of my family anymore. I didn’t need to sleep with faceless countless women to numb the feeling of insecurity I constantly felt.
Now that I had Bonnie in my life, I was a satisfied man. I was free to live the way I always wanted to, and I had her by my side.
27
Bonnie
I heard Joe opening the front door and greeting Nash outside the living room, and I straightened on the couch. I’d nearly dozed off, reading and waiting for Nash to return. As his footsteps approached the living room, I could feel my heart racing. I couldn’t believe I was still so excited to see him after just a few hours apart. When was it going to sink in, that Nash was my boyfriend, that we were living together now?
He opened the door, and strode straight toward me. I had barely gotten a chance to sit up but Nash was at my side, pulling me into his arms. Our lips fused together in a kiss, like we were still long-lost lovers, meeting after decades of separation. His hands found my nape and he pinned me to him, propping me up like a doll against his body.
When I placed the palm of my hand on his chest, I could feel it throbbing.
“How was your day?” I asked, pulling away from him. When I looked into Nash’s eyes, they looked narrow and dark. He was anxious and nervous. I sighed, expecting a torrent of rage spurting out of him any moment now. The visit to his father couldn’t have gone well.
“It was eventful,” Nash said, releasing me so that I fell back down on the couch with a thump.
He looked handsome in his pinstriped suit, his tie loosened at his neck. His hair looked disheveled like he had been running his hands through it all day. His jaws were clenched, and they looked sharp and rugged. He was standing in front of me with his legs spread apart, concentrating on my face like he was trying to draw some energy from it.
I still didn’t want to broach the subject. “I met Nell for lunch today and she said that she’s bought us tickets to Ibiza for next month,” I said, changing the topic.
Nash’s eyes shot about the room nervously, I was expecting to him to burst into anger any moment now. God! What had his father said this time?
“Oh yeah?” he said, trying to force a tone of naturalness to his voice. I knew him too well by now to know to believe it. “Just the two of you? For how long?”
“Ten days. We haven’t gone away for so long, and now that I’m living at the other end of the city, I think she feels like we don’t see each other enough,” I replied.
“That’ll be nice. You need to get away, catch a break from all this,” he said, his voice finally softening.
Looking up at his face, I wrapped my arms adoringly around his slim chisele
d waist. He felt warm to the touch, but now that I was close to him again, I could see that his cheeks were flushed.
“I don’t need a break from you, Nash. That’s not why I’m going away with her,” I said softly and our eyes met.
Nash nodded and remained silent, allowing his hands to rest on my shoulders for a while.
We were staring at each other, like really staring, just silently without a word. And it felt like we could keep doing that for ages.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, breaking the silence after what felt like at least ten minutes.
Nash drew in his breath and shook his head. “About my visit to Father? No, I don’t,” he said, pushing me slightly away from him.
My brows furrowed immediately, and I scrunched my face at him. “Nash, I think we should talk about it. You need to get it out of your system. You look wrecked,” I said, a hint of concern coloring my voice now.
Nash shook his head again and walked over to stand in front of the fireplace.
“I’m not wrecked because of him. I’m nervous about something else,” he said, pushing his hands into his pocket.
I crossed my arms over my breasts as I faced him, my brows still furrowed.
“You’re nervous? Nash Preston, nervous?” I said with a laugh, but only a soft smile graced the sides of his lips. He hadn’t found it funny. Shit, he was really nervous! Something terrible had happened.
“Yeah, I always get nervous when I do something for the first time, I’m only human,” he said, and I was shaking my head in confusion.
“What have you done, Nash?” I asked, my terror rising now. I tried to think of all the things I thought Nash was capable of doing. Had he abused his father? Smashed a flower vase? Destroyed one of his father’s prized family portraits? Nash’s calm level headedness dictated that one of those acts would be considered by him to be immensely violent.
“I haven’t done anything yet,” he said, interrupting my thoughts.
I noticed how the look in his eyes was changing now. He didn’t look as nervous anymore, instead he was extracting a hand out of his pocket. And then he was kneeling on one knee. And on one open palm lay a blue velvet box. Still unopened.
“Bonnie Veronica Calhoun,” he said and stupidly, the first thought in my head was; when did I tell him my middle name? I wasn’t thinking straight. My hands flew to my mouth, and not a word came out.
“Will you do me the honor of marrying me? I know I don’t deserve you, but you will make me the happiest man alive,” he continued.
Even before he had completed the sentence, I had hurled myself at him. I was bent forward kissing him, my hands weaving through his hair. I had never been happier.
“Yes, of course, I will! Yes, I will,” I gushed, red in the face and hot tears pricking the back of my eyelids.
Nash stood up, grabbing my chin and pulling it to him so we could kiss.
“How long have you been carrying this around in your pocket?” I asked when I pulled away from him, gasping for air.
Nash popped the box open to reveal a teardrop-shaped pink diamond ring, bigger than any stone I had ever seen. “Not long. I didn’t second guess this decision, Bonnie. The right time to ask you is when I thought of it. Which was right now,” he said, as he slipped the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly, glittering in the dim light of the living room.
“You just bought the ring?” I asked, laughing uncontrollably. This was actually happening, the man who I always thought was out of reach, out of bounds, had just asked me to marry him. I had spent all my college years, and the years after, judging him and judging myself. I should have followed my heart from the start; I should have known that Nash Preston was always the man for me.
“No, it’s my mother’s. It’s been passed down in my family for four generations. I had it in my study, I picked it up before I came in here,” Nash was laughing. The nervousness in his gaze had gone now; he looked like he felt he was finally free.
I stared down at the ring, which sparkled as I moved my finger. When I looked up at his face, Nash was smiling again.
“Before she died, she told me to give it to a girl who Father disapproved of. She knew him better than anyone else,” he said, placing his hands on my waist. Nash kissed me again, tenderly on my lips and then my cheeks.
“So, when Father made it clear to me today that he disapproved of you, I knew it was a sign. I knew it was now or never, and I had finally found the woman I was supposed to spend my life with,” he continued after he was done kissing me. When our gazes locked again, we both knew what was going to happen next. Nash was already unbuttoning his shirt.
The End
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Extended Epilogue
Untamed
Click.
I take another picture of the view from the balcony of the lodge – of the snow-capped mountain in the distance – then lower my camera as a breeze blows by, sweeping tendrils of my hair across my face. I brush them aside, tucking a few strands behind my ear while taking a moment to admire the scenery with my own two eyes.
Beautiful. Serene. A natural work of art.
Why would anyone want to snap pictures of people in fancy clothes with fake expressions when they can take photos of sceneries such as this, raw and wild and inherently perfect, each with their own story to tell?
Indeed, I have no regrets about my decision to work for the Seeker. It’s been more than a year and I’ve been to so many places, seen so many animals and landscapes, taken more pictures than I ever have in my entire life. Most days are an adventure where you never know what to expect. I always have my camera ready, knowing that I may never get another chance to take a perfect shot. Parties are all the same – the same people, the same chatter. But out here, every day is different. Even the same creatures can act differently. And everything can change in the blink of an eye.
It’s challenging and thrilling, everything I’ve dreamed of and more.
The only problem is that I’m away from Nathan most of the time, like eighty percent of the time. We only get to see each other once a month and sometimes, we don’t see each other at all. Even when I’m back in New York, there’s no guarantee of us spending time together since he’s busy with his company, too. In fact, I can’t remember the last time we spent a whole day, just the two of us in his apartment, talking, laughing, watching movies, having sex.
Sex. Yup, that’s something we definitely haven’t been having enough of.
It’s fine, though. I still get to talk to him over the phone or on my laptop. We still exchange instant messages, some of which end in emojis blowing kisses. We’re fine. I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be?
Oh, all right, I’ll admit it. I miss Nathan. I miss hearing him whisper in my ear. I miss his kisses. I miss the way he looks at me. I miss looking at him. I miss the way his body feels against mine. I miss him. I can’t complain, though, since I was the one who chose this job. I can only try to make the most of the situation, to spend as much time with him as I possibly can and make sure those times count.
Hmm. Maybe I’ll go back to New York and see him after this trip, maybe go to his office and drag him away from his meetings, force him to spend time with me. Better yet, maybe I’ll ask him to come here to Finland and come with me to—
“Sam.” Jackson, the writer I work with, disrupts my plans.
“Yup?”
I go back inside the lodge to the living room where he’s sitting in front of his laptop still in the clothes he slept in, his hair uncombed and a mug of steaming hot coffee in hand. Sometimes, I think he looks just as primitive as some of the creatures I take pictures of. He’s a genius, though,
and he’s very understanding so I can overlook the lack of hygiene.
“Is there a problem with the pictures?” I ask as I sit next to him.
“Nope. I just wanted to tell you they’re amazing as usual.” Jackson takes a sip of his coffee as he goes through the pictures.
I have to agree. The pictures of the lynxes turned out good.
“I love this one.” I point to the picture of the female lynx in a hunting position, her head close to the ground and her eyes completely focused on her prey. “It reminds me of the writer I used to work with.”
She’s just like Mattie, all right, magnificent and determined.
Jackson chuckles. “There you go again with your animal-human comparisons.”
I shrug. “Sorry. It’s a habit I can’t get rid of.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “You and I are both weirdos. Maybe that’s why we make a good team.”
I give him a look of disbelief. “I am not a weirdo.”
“Yes, you are. Most women wouldn’t want to give up wearing gowns and talking to famous people for dirty boots and once-a-week baths.”
“For your information, I take baths more often than you do,” I tell him with raised eyebrows. “And just because I’m not like most women doesn’t mean I’m weird. I just like to dance to the beat of my own drum.”
“All right, all right.” He continues to go through the pictures. “Seriously, though, you and I are a good team. You make it so much easier for me to write.”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “You’re a great writer. Weird, but a great writer.”
Jackson gives another chuckle then points to the screen. “Ah, this one is my favorite.”
I move closer, smiling at the picture of two lynx cubs playing in the snow. “They are adorable.”