by Sophia Vice
“It isn’t,” I correct him, even though he isn’t far from the truth. I’ve only been rejected once or twice, and it was so long ago I can’t really remember. “I’m not some kind of ultimate-catch.”
He laughs dryly. “Really? Not to inflate your already healthy ego, but your name—Ricci—usually precedes you.” My firm, Ricci Enterprises, is pretty well-known. “Plus,” he adds, his neck reddening, “you aren’t bad looking. In my professional opinion.”
Chris is gay and also happily married, so I’m not concerned that my assistant has a torch burning for me. He’s been working for me for years, and he’s become a close friend and confidant.
I wink at him. “Thanks. If my ego had taken a hit, you’ve definitely rescued it.”
“Why don’t you go back and give her your number? In case she changes her mind?” He turns off the car, as if the decision has already been made.
I groan. “I do have some pride, you know.”
He nods, but looks at me speculatively. “Yeah, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go out of your way to go after a girl. They’re always lining up for you so you never have to try. So I’m guessing she’s worth it.”
I grumble and throw open the door. Chris gets out and catches up to my quick stride, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“I don’t really need a wing-man.”
He laughs. “I know. But I just want to get a look at this girl. Who is she?”
I frown. “It’s Kyle.”
Chris whips his head around to look at me, blanching a little. “Kyle? Jason’s little sister Kyle?”
I nod, grimacing. “The very same.”
Then I’m swinging open the door to the café once again, unable to resist Kyle’s siren’s song. This girl already has me, a man who loves to be in control, wrapped around her little finger.
3
Kyle
I’m so thrown by Adam’s surprise visit that I’m completely off-balance after he leaves. I mess up two customer orders and spill a drink. Shauna tries to cover for me, but our boss, Don, notices after a particularly bad drink mix-up and lectures me. I tune it all out, ignoring him as usual. Don is a middle-aged, balding low life whose clothes haven’t changed since the nineties. I’m aware that, like me, Don probably takes his anger out on the world because of deep-seated insecurity and jealousy over other people’s successes.
Unfortunately, my ability to think well of Don ends there, since his sole purpose in life seems to be to berate Shauna and I. It’s always how stupid are you that you can’t make one drink? Or, my personal favorite: Are you the clumsiest dipshit on the planet? I’m pretty sure his verbal abuse is against some kind of HR policy, but I’ve always been too lazy to really follow up on it. Confrontation like that is a colossal amount of effort, and maybe, on some level, I believe that I deserve all of the insults Don throws at me.
I’m still seething from Don’s dressing-down when a small group of bridesmaids that are obviously headed to a wedding comes waltzing in as if they were delivered to the café by a beam of sunlight. They are dressed in beautiful lilac dresses, the fine chiffon material highlighting their gracefully toned bodies perfectly. They look like dancers.
As I type in each order I admire their coiffed hair, immaculate makeup, and stunning outfits. They chat away as Shauna makes the first drink. I’m totally out of it, daydreaming that if I looked more like one of these girls, with a perfect body and a bright smile, I could have had Adam’s attention for real. What would it be like to be desired by a man like him? I imagine what he would look like naked, all of that bronze skin and hard-muscle pressed up against me. I fantasize, for the thousandth time, what it would be like if he was on top of me, holding me down by the hips, that mouthwatering combination of his natural manly, woodsy scent mixed with his cologne overwhelming my senses…
Shauna hands me the first drink, and I robotically take it and hold it out over the counter, waiting for one of the girls to take it as I fantasize about Adam.
“Sara?” Shauna says beside me, trying to get the attention of one of the chatty bridesmaids.
I think about how full and sinful his lips are, and what they would feel like against my skin.
“Sara? Miss?” Shauna repeats.
I’ve moved on to imagining Adam pressing me up against a wall and hiking my legs around him, when one of the bridesmaids turns around.
“Yes?” she responds to Shauna, just as her elbow clips the drink I’m still holding outstretched in my hand. With horror, I watch the drink careen straight into the chest of the girl on the right. She screams as the scalding hot latte hits her bare upper chest and splatters all over her pretty lilac dress.
A cacophony of “Oh my gods!” from the bridesmaids fills the café as they fuss over the coffee-covered girl.
I spare a glance at Shauna, completely mortified. She looks back at me, and her face is like an open book: this is bad.
No longer smiley, the scalded bridesmaid turns and looks at me accusatorially, her face flushed as she uselessly wipes at the coffee on her dress. “What the fuck!”
“I am so sorry!” I burst, grabbing a handful of napkins as I follow Shauna to wipe up the bridesmaid.
That, of course, is when Don decides to come out. He’s huffing and puffing as he approaches, making me wonder exactly what it is he’s always doing in the supply, when I see his eyes widen as he takes in the scene. His expression quickly transforms into a face of extreme annoyance. His beady eyes shift to me and Shauna, making him look like a sniper searching for his mark. He’s out for blood, I think, suddenly nauseated. When will this day end?
“Ma’am, I am so sorry about this.” Don hovers a hand over the bridesmaid’s shoulder before he thinks better of touching her and lets his arm drop uselessly at his side. “Can you tell me how this happened?” he asks, as if he were a cop investigating a serious crime.
We are all blotting the bridesmaid’s dress with paper napkins, but the damage has obviously been done.
“She spilled it on me! She ruined my dress and burnt my skin!” The bridesmaid thrusts a finger at me, and the tremor in her voice makes it clear that she’s trying not to cry. “We’re going to my sister’s wedding! What am I supposed to wear now?” she huffs, her eyes welling, and guilt tears away at me.
Don, his face twisted with irritation, turns his full attention to me. Shauna takes a step back, as if trying to physically distance herself from the verbal tussle she knows is about to go down.
“Ma’am, I am so sorry,” he repeats, looking straight at me as he addresses the bridesmaid. “This is a problem employee, and I promise that we value you as a customer, so this will be her last day of employment. We will also be giving you a gift certificate for free coffee.”
I rip off my apron, humiliated to realize that, just like the bridesmaid, hot tears are starting to track down my cheeks. Apparently thinking that I’ve been dealt with, Don starts getting the gift certificate together. He scans it and then tries to give it to the bridesmaid, but she slaps it back into his hand.
“Do you know how much this dress costs? More than a fucking gift certificate!” She sobs, and the other bridesmaids console her, hushing and cooing.
“Come on, Lily, we’ll figure it out. You can wear my dress. Let’s just go,” one of them whispers, and another girl takes her by the hand as they all file out of the café.
Don’s face grows increasingly red as the door swings shut. He turns to me, and his beady eyes look like they want to pop right out of his face. “Well, fatty?” he spits. “You heard me, you’re fired. Remove your ass from my café!”
“You can’t speak to her that way!” Shauna pipes up, her small voice shaking.
I ignore her, stepping right up to Don, and I make myself laugh. “Your café? You’re just the manager of this shitty place.” Now that I’ve started, the words come pouring out. “You’re an old douche-bag whose only joy in life is being a complete asshole to young women. Does it get you off, Don? Does it? Is that
what you’re up to when you spend so much time in the supply room? Jerking off over some sad, sick fantasy?”
“You little bitch—” Don steps forward and raises one meaty palm. I’m no stranger to being knocked around since I grew up with two alcoholics, so I can’t help but flinch, closing my eyes and bracing myself for the impact. I hear Shauna draw in a sharp breath.
I open my eyes, and am stunned to see that Adam Ricci is gripping Don’s upraised arm in one powerful hand, his expression cool and in control.
“There are a lot of people in here, friend. Did you think about that before you addressed your employee disrespectfully? Before you lifted a hand to her?”
His voice is like silken steal, somehow more terrifying than if he were visibly angry. Don can sense the power that Adam holds over the room, and he visibly cows, going still as he frantically looks around. The entire café is hushed, and it is obvious that all of the customers have been watching the drama go down.
Adam smirks. “My friend here is going to go around the room and get the names and numbers of your patrons so that there will be plenty of witnesses. I have no doubt that this company’s PR will deem you unfit for your position and fire you. No company wants to be tainted by an abused employee story.” Adam gestures to the man standing by his side, and for a wild moment I think it might be my brother, but it’s just another man in a suit whose face I don’t know. He’s smaller than Adam, with kind eyes, and he immediately gets out his phone to follow Adam’s implicit order. He begins walking around the room, getting all the customers’ names and information.
Don, for the first time, looks utterly speechless. He recovers after a moment, his face still twisted with rage as he wrenches his arm out of Adam’s grip. It’s clear that Adam lets him go on purpose, and he steps away from Don over to me, wrapping a protective arm around my back as Don seethes in humiliation. Don looks like he’s about to say something to Adam, but he deflates when he looks around and sees everyone in the room staring at him with clear disapproval.
“Screw this,” he huffs, and with that he trudges out of the café.
Meanwhile, tingles are spreading all over my body from where Adam’s arm is wrapped around my back, offering me his protection and support. I drag a sleeve over my face to clear away my tears so that I can look him in the eye without humiliating myself further. Could this day be any more embarrassing?
“Are you okay?” Adam’s voice is soft, I feel his hand rub small circles into my shoulder. The intimate, comforting touch sends every nerve in my body into over-drive, and I have to take another moment to compose myself, internally debating whether or not I should step away from him when all I want to do is bury my face into his powerful chest.
I don’t do either, and finally I glance up at him, and his steel-grey eyes examine me, flicking across my face as if to look for any trace of prior injury from Don. His concern fills me with a strange warmth. Besides my brother, I’ve had very few people in this world actually care about me or my well-being.
“Are you okay?” Adam repeats, and when I don’t answer, he takes my chin between his fingers and tilts my face towards him. Shivers cascade down my spine at the intimate touch.
Adam furrows his brows as he inspects my face. “Kyle, I need a verbal answer. Are you okay? Has he hurt you before?” A little more of the steel from earlier is back in his voice, and I quail at having that authority directed at me. I sense that his domineering manner is never far from the surface, even when he is feeling concerned.
“I’m okay,” I mumble quietly.
He looks like he doesn’t believe me, but he nods anyway. “Okay then, let’s go. I’ll give you a ride home. Chris?” His voice booms across the café as he calls out the name, immediately catching the attention of his colleague.
“Just finished, Adam,” the man answers, tucking his phone away as he hustles over to us. “Everyone volunteered their name and number.”
“Good,” Adam rumbles, and I feel the vibrations from his chest against my back, making another shiver run down my spine.
Adam starts steering us towards the door. We pass by Shauna, who brushes my arm briefly in a gesture of support. I can tell by her expression that she is just as dumb-struck by the whole turn of events as I am. Adam reaches around me and opens up the door when I halt.
“Wait,” I say, turning around to look up at him. My question dissolves as I become aware of how intimate this feels, with me pressed against his chest and his arm holding the door partially open against my back. I try to step away, but his arm is like a cage, completely immovable.
Adam quirks an eyebrow, and it’s an invisible command to speak my mind. I shiver again, more intimidated than ever by his alpha-male show of confidence. Is he always this overwhelming, this overbearing?
“Um,” I mumble, blushing as I opt to look at his chest instead of his eyes, “I don’t need a ride anywhere.” Humiliatingly, my throat tightens like it always does just before I’m about to really start sobbing. Alarmed, I try to keep it together, using all of my mental strength to keep the tears at bay. “Really, it’s been a hard day, and I just need to go home on my own,” I repeat, my mind looping like a broken record player.
I need to go home so that I can have the space to break down. Now that I’ve lost my only part-time job, I won’t be able to pay my rent this month, and I’ll have to move back in with my parents. I’ll have to take their slaps to the face and insults, all the while doing all of the housework for them and cooking for their drug-addict hick friends.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes as I squeeze them shut. I exhale shakily, and I hear Adam sigh as his arm wraps around me securely, dragging me fully against the hard, taut muscles of his chest. I give in and press my tear-stained face against the smooth fabric of his expensive white button up, even as butterflies go wild in my stomach. I inhale, taking in his naturally manly scent mixed with a subtle cologne. He even smells mouth-watering.
Adam shoulders the door open the rest of the way and maneuvers me outside carefully, reminding me that we probably still have an audience in the cafe. My cheeks flame as I keep my face down, more of my tears leaking onto his perfectly pressed shirt. I realize that he will see the evidence of my tears, and I look away shamefully as I try to get out of his grip now that we are outside. It’s completely futile, since he only presses me more tightly against his chest, obviously unwilling to let me go. Despite my being so upset, warm tingles still travel down my body, heating up my core at that close contact that is so similar to my fantasies.
“Kyle.” I feel the pressure of a finger under my chin, but I don’t look up. I’m too humiliated.
“Kyle,” he repeats again, his voice a little harder. “Look at me.”
Something in his tone makes me feel like I have to obey, so I look up, and he lifts both his hands, framing my face carefully. I fall into his eyes, grey like the ocean on a cloudy day. If I didn’t know better, I would say his touch was tender, even romantic, but under the circumstances I know he’s just taking pity on a hysterical girl. I sniffle, trying to keep the wracking sobs I know are coming at bay.
His next question surprises me. “Did you drive here?”
“Y—yes,” I hiccup, and I flush again. Could I be any less dignified?
He nods to himself, looking as though he’s decided on something. “Give me your keys.”
“What are you—”
“No arguing.”
I bite my lip, feeling overwhelmed and confused by how domineering he is. Seeing my expression, his eyes soften, and he gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Just trust me to take care of you, Kyle, and everything will be better. Okay?”
It’s like he took a peek inside my soul, the deepest layers of my mental state, and said exactly what I wanted to hear. I pause for a moment, thinking about how I should just tell him to mind his own business and let me take care of myself—but the truth is, I want to be taken care of. I’ve wanted someone to take care of me for a long time. Being alone wears down
on you when you don’t even realize it, day by day, like soil slowly being eroded by rain over years, exposing all the jagged rock underneath.
Now all I long for is some shelter from the constant onslaught of daily life. At night I dream of being wrapped in someone’s arms; of having a place to lay my head down where I belong.
“Okay,” I acquiesce, and I dig around in my purse for my keys, handing them over to him. He takes the keys and tosses them over to Chris, who has been standing at a polite distance.
“Which car is it?” Adam’s voice is not ungentle, and although I wonder what the plan is, my decision to trust him has drained all the fight from me.
“Silver Honda Civic. It’s right behind the cafe in the employee parking area,” I tell them, and Chris nods, heading into the back parking lot.
Adam offers me his arm. “Chris is going to bring your car to my place. That’s where we’re going.”
I look up at him, surprised, and he glances back at me, a small smile transforming his features and making me melt. “Unless you really would prefer to go home and be alone? If that’s what you really want, I’ll drop you off there, and have Chris follow us. But I know from experience that it can be nice to have someone to talk to at times like these.”
He’s so much taller than me that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact with him while he speaks, and I like the way it makes me feel even more petite.
“What times are these?” My voice is tired, exhausted from the day and, to be honest, the past year.
“Times where you’ve hit a wall.” He smiles at me, and I feel a silly hope bloom inside me that this could be something more than Adam just helping out his friend’s sister.
He opens the passenger side door of his car, and I slide in. I’m too out of it to notice what kind of car it is, but it looks expensive, with a plush interior and leather seats. He gets into the driver’s side and gets out his keys.