by Wyatt, Dani
“Yes.” He puts on a pair of boxers and a white T-shirt, then walks into the closet and starts to dress in a dark gray suit and white dress shirt. When he’s done, he steps out to the mirror on the wall and puts on an emerald green tie, working the knot and making it perfect before he turns to me. “He’s lucky I only fired him. I wanted to kill him.”
I’ve been staying at Marshall’s place a full week now, and I haven’t felt so good in years. He takes care of me in so many ways, including cooking like a master chef.
After years of caring for my grandparents, it was hard at first to let him, but I soon realized he is more stubborn than me, and truth is, it is so nice to have someone dote on me.
I let out a long breath, trying to figure out if I’m a horrible person because I’m sort of happy about what he’s told me about Carver and the company. The reason I didn’t tell him I saw the creep yesterday, or about the crazy texts is I honestly think he might kill him if he ever thought he was even near me.
The violence that exploded from him that day at the office stays with me, and I know what Marshall could unleash, leaving wreckage in his path.
It’s one thing to have him be protective of me, but it’s another thing to have him commit a felony and then be sent away. I realize that even after this short time together, I need him. If he ever went away, I feel like my world would collapse.
“You should promote Bethany. She should run the place, she’s great.”
“Your friend, right??” He steps to the edge of the bed.
“Yeah.”
“I like her. Yes, I’m going there after my other meetings this morning. I’ll have a sit-down with her, see what she wants. I’ll tell her someone with influence put in a good word on her behalf.”
He reaches down with a wink and slides his hand up my bare thigh, making me shiver.
“She likes you, too. She likes that I seem happy here.”
“Are you?”
I nod. “Very. It’s just...” I pause, and Marshall moves his hand from my thigh to my cheek. “It’s like I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? Things that seem too good to be true usually are. That’s what my grandfather always said.”
“There are exceptions to every rule, baby. And there is no other shoe to drop. I love you. Those are words I’ve never said to anyone before. I never thought I would, to be honest.”
“I love you, too.” I half-smile, and he leans down and gives me a soft kiss.
“Even Dorothy likes you, and she doesn’t really like anyone.”
“Not even you?” I grin, thinking about the meal we had with Marshall’s mom, his stepfather and his half-sister. Dorothy was indeed frightening, but once we got to know each other and she relaxed, it was like she was a completely different person. I think we might actually become friends.
Marshall laughs. “Especially not me.”
Bethany has been over a couple of times, and she and Marshall quickly became friends. Although not as friendly as she’s been with Marshall’s business partner, Connor. He was here the day Bethany went with me to the house to grab some things I wanted to have here. Marshall offered to have movers come and bring all my things, but the truth is, I don’t want everything from the house. I want to start fresh.
Besides, Marshall wants to turn the old place into a nice retreat for us, somewhere we can go at the weekends or whatever. We’ve already been in touch with contractors and architects, and I’ve seen a few plans for what they’re thinking of doing. I like the idea, and honestly, it’s kind of a relief because half the time I expect to show up to find it burned to the ground, the faulty electric finally deciding to give up the ghost.
“But then, how could anyone not love you?”
He’s such a contrast. Fucking me in the shower, he was hard and rough, saying filthy but wonderful things to me. Then the next minute, I’m his precious little doll, and he’s so gentle it’s hard to believe both sides of him can fit into one man’s body.
“Okay.” He looks at his watch. “I have to go. Couple meetings this morning, then I’ll go talk to Ruff & Purr and Bethany. I want them all to know their jobs are safe and I only want the best for the company. And you, little one...” He runs his hand down my damp hair. “Finish those forms for the university I left for you. You want to take classes next semester, my friend said all you have to do is complete the forms. You will be admitted and on your way to being a vet in no time.”
“I’ll do it. Then I’m going to take Buddha with me to the house and look around. The architect emailed us some ideas, and I want to go there and think about them. Imagine what they would look like...you know, like I like to see it in my mind and then know it could come true.”
“That’s fine. Take your phone, though. Let me know when you leave here when you arrive there and then when you head back home, got it?”
I nod. At first, when Marshall started making me tell him all my comings and goings, I was put off. But when he explained that it wasn’t a control thing, it was a loving, caring, "are you okay because I have to know" sort of thing, it made me understand and feel even safer.
“Good girl. Okay, I’m off. No playing with that pussy until I get home, got it? I want it wet and needy when I walk in the door. I left you a new little outfit in your closet I want you wearing when I get home.”
My belly flutters as his eyes fill with desire, then he turns and makes his way out of the bedroom. I never would have understood before Marshall, but I truly belong to him. My body, my mind, my soul. I can’t imagine life without him, and sometimes I think I’m in a dream. I just pray I don’t wake up.
The next hour, I dress, play with Buddha, then get us organized and into the Jeep. Then we head out of town and into the woods, back to the house, my head filled with all the dreams of what has happened to my life in such a short time and all the beautiful things I know are still coming.
Thirteen
Marshall
I’VE ONLY BEEN AWAY from her an hour and a half, but I’m ready to cancel the rest of my day because I can barely breathe when she’s not next to me.
I’ve finished my first two meetings of the day; both went exactly as I planned, and there’s potential for a lot of money to be made. More than most people make in a lifetime. Still, since Emmy came into my life, the thrill of the deal has lost a lot of its luster. Money is great because it allows me freedom and the ability to take care of Emmy the way she deserves. It also makes my mom comfortable, and Dorothy and Connor, too.
But for me? The thrill of the win is gone unless it’s winning her heart, which I plan to do every day from now until they put me in the ground.
I’m in the Bentley on the way to Ruff & Purr to have a quick staff meeting and talk to Bethany about taking the director’s position that was suddenly vacated when I had Carver fired and escorted from the building two days ago.
I thought of doing it myself but figured the indignity of having a service deliver the news and walk him out in front of everyone in the building was better. Besides, I’m not sure if, had I seen him again, I could have refrained from finishing the job I started. If I ended up killing the asshole, I could hardly care for Emmy for the rest of my life from behind bars.
When I pull into the parking lot, I’m surprised to see Connor’s Mercedes in the parking lot. I swing my black sedan into the next space, coming to a stop just as my text tone chirps.
Emmy: On my way to the house. Xoxo
Me: On your way? You’re texting and driving?
Emmy: NO! I stopped to get gas and realized I forgot to message you when we left the house.
Me: Okay, baby. Message when you get there. Send me some pictures of you and Buddha.
Emmy: Okie dokie. I can’t promise he’ll smile.
Me: If he’s with you, he’s smiling even if it doesn’t show. I know, because you have the same effect on me.
Emmy: You do know how to make a girl feel special.
Me: No, I don’t. I know how to make you feel spec
ial. Because you are special. Only you. Okay, travel safe. I’ll be waiting for the pictures.
Emmy: xoxoxoxooxoxox
I make my way to the entry and step inside. There’s an older brunette working the reception desk, and she smiles when she sees me.
“Hi. Welcome to Ruff & Purr. How can I help you?”
“I’m Marshall Rogers.”
Her cheeks turn bright pink. “Oh. Yes...you’re early, we didn’t expect you for another hour.”
“I know.” I clear my throat and look around. The place is neat and well put together. The branding is sharp and modern, with a bright green logo with cartoon crayon drawings of dogs, cats, and fish, all in the center with Ruff & Purr in a purple circle, on the wall above the reception desk. “Is Connor Craig here?”
Before I bought the company, I looked at their numbers. I would have bought it regardless because I had a score to settle, but it turns out it’s a solid P&L with a good forecast for growth.
The brunette fidgets with a pen and bites her lip. “Um, yes, he’s been here a couple hours.”
It’s clear that whatever Connor is doing here, she doesn’t want to give me the details, so I’m going to let it go for now. “Good, I’m glad he’s checking in, as well. I want to see Bethany if I can. Where is her office?”
“Um.” She swallows and comes out from around the back of the desk. “She doesn’t have an office, she has a cube, and she’s not there at the moment.”
“Then show me to a conference room and bring her to me.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Rogers. Right this way.”
She walks fast, glancing over her shoulder five times before she settles me in a conference room and scurries back out.
Five minutes later, Bethany comes in the room looking a little flustered but with a sincere smile on her face, and we shake hands.
“So, not only are you taking over my friend’s life, you’re taking over the company I work for, as well?”
I smile and close the door behind her. “Have a seat. Can I get you coffee or tea or anything?”
She gives me a quizzical look. “Shouldn’t I be the one offering to get you something?”
I shake my head. “No. That sort of hierarchy doesn’t exist in my companies.”
“Okay. So, I know we’re supposed to have a staff meeting in an hour. Is there something wrong?” She looks nervous and I answer quickly, making sure she knows everything is just fine.
“A couple things. First, would you be interested in the director’s position? From what I can tell, and from what a certain someone has told me, you’re doing all the work anyway.”
“Seriously? But I don’t have my degree, and the company said in order to have a senior management position, I had to have one.”
“New rules. The profit and loss on this location is the best in the chain. And, from what I can tell, you have everything to do with that. That’s the only degree I need. That said, if it’s something you’re interested in, we’d be happy to fund schooling and give you day release as necessary. So, yes or no? You interested or not?”
She nods, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Her blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. She’s about six inches taller than my Emmy and has artistic floral tattoos down both arms. Her look combines the girl next door with an exotic edge.
At first, I wasn’t sure about letting her and Emmy out of my sight, but within a couple hours with Bethany, I knew I could trust her, and the ink was just that—ink.
“Yes,” she finally answers with tears in her eyes. “I know I can do the job. I won’t let you down.”
I nod. “I have every confidence in you. You deserve it. Now, let’s go to Carver’s office. I’m going to announce your new position to the staff at the meeting, but I want to poke around for a bit before. Get your opinion on a few things. You in?”
She grins. “Okay.”
With that, we’re on our feet making our way through the building toward the office where I found Carver with Emmy that morning, and already my angst is rising at the memory.
Workers crane their necks to look as me pass then quickly look away. There’s a nervousness in the air. Another new owner in a short span of time is unusual, but I’ll put their fears to rest shortly. First, I want to clear any bad vibes and memories from Carver’s office with Bethany.
“Here we are.” She opens the door and we both head inside, clicking the light on and closing the door behind us.
I look around, my gut tight being here again, but I keep my professional calm and point to the desk.
“Have a seat. Try it on for size. Picture yourself settled in, doing the job. Owning the position. When we talk to the staff, I want your mindset already accepting that you are the director.”
She bites into her bottom lip but makes her way around the desk and slowly lowers into the seat, placing her hands on top of the desk and looking around at the papers and mess left behind.
“Looks like you’ve got some work to do.”
She nods then tosses the Sports Illustrated and the food wrappers in the trash before her hands move to pick up papers, considering each one the setting them into orderly piles.
There’s a knock on the door, and I turn as it opens to reveal Connor standing there looking star struck. The look he’s giving her reminds me of how I look at Emmy and everything is starting to drop into place.
“Hey, brother, didn’t expect you this early.” He glances over at me, then back at Bethany.
“No, so I see. Checking out our new investment, Connor?”
“Something like that. What’s going on here?”
I turn to Bethany, her face is flushed. “Bethany is the new Director—assuming she still wants the job?”
She nods eagerly. “It feels good.” Her bright smile makes this move sweeter, and not just because she’s Emmy’s friend, but because my gut tells me she’s the right person for the job.
She shuffles a few more papers, then opens the desk drawers one at a time as I check my phone to see if Emmy has arrived at the old house. There’s no text yet, so either she stopped somewhere, or she’s forgotten the rules.
When I look back, Bethany is staring at me, her face white, and she’s holding a file folder open in her hands.
“What is that?”
Her lips open, and she stands to hand it across the desk to me the folder trembling slightly in her grip.
When I look down, my blood is ice and a fear like nothing I’ve known before clutches around my throat.
Bethany looks at the folder in my hands, then back at me. “Where’s Emmy?”
I can’t answer. I’m out of the office at a dead run to my car, dialing her number and peeling out of the parking lot, murderous thoughts thundering through my brain.
Fourteen
Emmy
WHEN I ARRIVE AT THE small, white house set back in the trees, I sit in the Jeep and remember all my years here.
The front garden beds once full of irises and hydrangeas, are now choked with weeds. The paint peels and chips like a snake shedding it skin, waiting for what’s next, and there’s a gutter falling over the crooked front porch.
The gingerbread accents my grandfather added to the porch when I was around ten used to be a lovely mixture of blue and orange colors they let me pick out even though they were probably hideous. Now they’re faded, no longer the cheerful childlike crayon colors I remember.
That spring day they let me paint, my grandfather’s hands held my waist from behind on the ladder as I slathered on the paint, dripping it everywhere. Neither of them ever complained or corrected me, taking joy in the simple moment, which a lot of people forget to do.
I turn and look at Buddha lying in the backseat, his eyebrows alternating up and down as he looks at me then out the window.
“Wanna go see how the other half lives?”
He lifts his head, and his tongue flops out of his mouth.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I hop out
and open the back door, grunting as I grab Buddha under his front legs.
“Geez, Buddha, you seriously need Jenny Craig.”
I put him down on the grass and he shakes his head, drool flying in a shimmering circle, making me duck to avoid a wet strand that flings over my head.
“You’re a class act there, Buddha.”
He toddles off toward the magnolia tree in the front yard and lifts his leg as I make my way to the front door, the house key in my hand. There are tire tracks that look fresh in the dirt drive looping around where I don’t usually drive, and I’m guessing they’re from the architect or builder doing their preliminary look around.
I start to imagine what the place will look like when all the renovations are done.
I see the small cottage still, but with sleek new updates. Maybe a copper roof, a large glass sunroom addition at the back. Fresh paint, maybe yellow with deep blue trim, and hydrangeas and wisteria under a new pergola off the front porch.
With a swing. We used to have one on the front porch until the wood above rotted, and Gran and I had a shock a few years ago when it broke loose, spilling our lemonade all over us as we hit the floorboards, both of us laughing and telling the other it was time to lose some weight.
“Don’t wander far,” I shout to Buddha as I unlock the front door and step inside, but he’s already plopped himself down by the front walkway for his third-morning nap.
The front door creaks on its antique hinges, and the out-of-square screen door doesn’t shut behind me, which is fine because then Buddha can come in when he gets his second wind
I snap some pictures on my phone as I wander around, thinking of all the possibilities of bringing this place back to life. There are a few pieces of the furniture I’ll want to keep, but most of it is faded and broken, repaired, then broken again, so my nostalgia is limited.
The walls are still covered with photos and memories and several layers of dry, peeling wallpaper, and I know I want to restore the photos. I’ll leave some hanging here, but there are some I’d like to have with me back at Marshall’s place.