by Kally Ash
He walked back to the guest room, smiling when he heard the sound of gentle banging against the wall. Shutting the door behind him, he stripped off and ducked into the bathroom off his room. Getting the water nice and hot, he stepped under the spray and worked on autopilot. His head was back in that nightclub, in that office, and his cock liked the location of his thoughts. His erection was back—not that it ever really went away—and it strained out from his hips now.
He briefly considered palming that weight but didn’t—he felt sleazy enough just thinking about jerking off to the memory. Actually following through? Man, he’d kick his own ass. No, he’d be leaving that well alone, but he gritted his teeth as suds fell on the damn thing, leaving him groaning. He hadn’t been this keyed up about a woman in, well, ever. He looked down his torso, glaring at the bastard. Getting more soap and water action wasn’t going to calm things down, so he turned off the taps and stepped from the stall, wrapping a towel around his waist.
Back in the guest room, he dried off and then got dressed, placing his duffel back onto the bed to shove in a few extra items and his phone charger. The book he’d brought but didn’t read. The clothes from last night. He paused with the fine twill slacks he’d worn last night in his hand, remembering how he’d kicked them to the floor after he’d tasted her, how she clutched him closer as he took his time bringing her to orgasm.
Aaaaaand that set off round two of hard-ons. Jesus, it was like he was fourteen again and the mere sight of something that could possibly resemble a breast if it was looked at in the right angle set him off. Placing the slacks into the bag, he zipped things up, then tucked his misbehaving cock into the waistband of his sweats.
Strolling from the room with his bag over his shoulder, he placed the thing by the door, then glanced at the room Vee and Beau shared. The door was still closed, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to interrupt them. Pulling out his phone, he sent Beau a text, then hiked his bag back onto his shoulder and left the apartment. The ride down in the elevator was uneventful, just like the walk out of the small lobby was too. When he stepped outside, he got an eyeful of sunshine and a sharp pain in the head too.
Happy fucking days. Thanks, hangover.
Hot footing it to his car, he dumped the duffel on the rear seat and then got in, sliding his sunglasses into place. The glare went down to a dull roar, but he could work with that. Starting the car, he cracked the window open a little and exited the parking lot of Beau and Vee’s Hollywood apartment.
The drive home should be easy. Heading out of LA was a cinch compared to getting into it. He had roughly two hours of driving ahead of him. Plenty of time to replay what happened the night before.
Five
For Natasha, the conversation with her parents—well, her father—hadn’t been a new topic for exploration, but somehow that’s all she could think about. She’d learned long ago that she had to grow a thick skin if she were going to be a part of the Fraser dynasty, and so far, so good, but she realized she could only take so much of her father’s criticisms until she started to think that maybe the guy was right.
Was she being soft?
Was she not ruthless enough?
She was a woman in a male-dominated world, so she knew she had to not just play with the big boys but actually rule the bastards too. And she had...
Or at least she thought she had.
As she approached the big gray stone building she’d been coming to for the better part of two years now, she cleared her mind. This was her happy place, not that anyone knew this was what she did when she had half a day to spare.
The steps of Our Lady of the Rosary Orphanage were as gray and dour as the stone that surrounded it, but inside was a different story. Inside those walls was more love than Natasha had ever personally felt in her life and that was one of the primary reasons she spent so much time here.
Pushing through the glass and steel door, she was satisfied with the new addition. It had been recently replaced under Natasha’s insistence and only after she made sure the Mother Superior took her check and cashed it.
She inhaled the smell of lemon floor cleaner and wood polish, knowing that the nuns who worked and lived there would’ve been rubbing and scrubbing earlier in the morning. Cleanliness was next to godliness and the nuns here ran a tight ship.
From an office to her right, the Mother Superior stuck her head out of her office door and smiled. Her habit looked starched to within an inch of its life and her wimple looked equally as stiff. She knew that the woman was hard to please, with the kids doing anything she asked in double time. It seemed her clothing was much the same.
“Miss Fraser,” Mother Catherine Marie said warmly. “I’m so glad you’re here a little earlier than normal.”
Natasha smiled at the woman who was probably a good forty years her senior but felt like her second mother. “I couldn’t wait,” she replied, actually meaning it. She didn’t get to the orphanage as often as she wanted, but she tried to come at least twice a month. “The new door looks good.”
A small frown appeared on the Mother Superior’s face. “I still disapprove of your methods for getting that installed.”
“I’m sorry,” Natasha replied with a shrug. “But the old wooden one just wasn’t up to standard, especially in this part of town.”
Our Lady of the Rosary was parked in Skid Row, on the corner of Fifth and San Pedro. The area was notorious for homelessness and families struggling below the poverty line and the fact that the church had set up an orphanage there hadn’t been pure dumb luck.
“You’re too generous,” Mother Catherine Marie said. “You’re not here to speak to me though, are you?” she added with a kind smile. “Come on. The kids are waiting for you.”
Natasha smoothed down her sweater and hiked the strap of her bag up a little higher. Following the Mother Superior, she walked down the familiar hallway, pushing through another door that separated the administrative building from the living quarters. There was an unadorned staircase to the left, and that was where the sisters lived. Straight through the door ahead though and the dormitories would be revealed.
As soon as they pushed through the set of wooden doubles, she was greeted with the sounds of kids at play. Walking past each dormitory, she peered through the open doors to see the beds lined up, at least one row against each wall. In some of them, there were three rows with one going down the center of the room. The space wasn’t big to start with, but crammed with beds as it was, it was downright sardine-like.
The overcrowding seemed to be worse for the kids who were around ten or eleven, the number of beds swelling to double the number that the first dormitory had.
“So many beds,” she murmured. “What’s been happening over these last couple of weeks?”
“Another one of the orphanages had to close its doors, so we got a few more souls to care for.”
“Jesus... err, sorry, Mother.”
Catherine Marie waved away the faux pas with an easy smile. “You should hear what comes out of the kids’ mouths sometimes.”
Yeah, she could just imagine.
“How many kids do you have now?”
The Mother Superior didn’t even miss a beat. It was like she was ready to answer that question even if it didn’t come up. “Two hundred and five.”
“And how many—”
“We were built with capacity for one hundred and fifty. Twenty-five per dormitory. Seven age ranges.”
“Which group is the largest?”
“Right now, it’s the sixteen- to seventeen-year-old age group. Once the children turn eighteen, they have no choice but to leave. We simply don’t have the space to house them.”
Natasha nodded, working out the math. “How many of those kids thrive outside these walls?”
Catherine Marie shook her head slowly. “I’ve seen too many of our former residents lining the streets, sleeping in boxes and begging for change.” Tears suddenly welled in the elderly nun’s eyes and Natasha reached out t
o touch her gently on the shoulder. She knew what the other woman was feeling because she was feeling it too: frustration and anger that nothing more could be done...
...Or could it?
“I want to help.”
The Mother Superior looked stunned, but her surprise was soon smoothed by a smile. “You are helping, Miss Fraser.”
“Natasha,” she insisted. “Please.”
“Natasha,” she said. “You are helping. Every time you come here and spend time with these kids, you’re helping them to understand that not everyone in this world is out for themselves.”
She glanced around, seeing the kids smiling back at her. They weren’t just a number to her—they were young people who had dreams about what they wanted their lives to be like. And they had fantastic dreams.
“I want to do more.”
“We have our fundraising efforts in place for this year, but I’m afraid with the new influx of children, that small amount of money has already been exhausted.”
Her mind began to whir. More fundraising would be easy at the firm, but organizing an event would take time, and it was time the orphanage didn’t have.
“You need to build another wing, somewhere where the older kids have the space they need and a place for those who aren’t ready to leave yet. Those kids need somewhere they can stay until they’re on their feet with a job and a place to live already lined up.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“And I want to foot the bill.” Despite the gasp, Natasha pushed on. “You have some room at the rear of the property, right?”
“We do, but, Natasha, we can’t ask you to do that.”
“You aren’t,” she replied. “I’m offering. So, are you going to take me up on it?”
The nun looked around, seeing the same thing Natasha saw—the desperate need for space, for better facilities, the chance these kids needed to make a real go of it.
“Yes.”
“I only have a couple of conditions. We get a proper architectural firm in, one who can take us from planning to groundbreaking to completion.”
“Of course. What’s the other condition?”
“I’m involved in every stage. I want to make sure things are done right.”
Catherine Marie clasped Natasha’s hands tightly in hers. “You are a true blessing, Mis—Natasha.”
Natasha felt the smile pulling at her lips. She couldn’t say why exactly, but she suddenly felt lighter than she had in a very long time. She was really looking forward to this. She was going to make a difference in these kids’ lives if it was the last thing she did.
“I even know just the firm to hire,” the Mother Superior said. “Their owner was once a member of our orphanage, and I have no doubt he’d want to be involved in this project.”
Six
The weekend almost seemed like a dream, John thought as he parked it at his desk on Monday morning. Weekends were also way too short in his opinion. As he woke up his computer by wiggling his mouse, he clicked into his emails and found one waiting for him from his boss. Robert Bandt was the founding member of RDM Architecture. Despite being a fifty-something guy, he looked great for his age. He dressed well. He was professional and he’d given John his big break straight out of college.
Getting up, he swung by the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, then went to Robert’s office. He rapped gently on the glass door before walking in. Robert was tucked behind his desk, a draft laid out in front of him.
“John, how was your weekend?”
“Good, sir. Yours?”
He grunted. “I strained my groin playing tennis on Saturday, so not great.”
“I’m sorry to hear tha—”
He sliced his hand through the air to cut off his words. “I don’t need your pity, son. I need to be thirty years younger. I don’t know what my wife was thinking convincing me to play tennis at my age,” he muttered.
John let the guy go. He clearly needed to get this off his chest.
“Anyway, the reason I called you in here wasn’t for you to listen to me bitch about getting older. I received a phone call this morning from an old friend of mine.”
“Oh?” He sat forward in his chair; his interest piqued.
“Yes, Sister—sorry, Mother Superior—Catherine Marie called and asked if I’d be interested in working on a project with her.”
A nun? “I’m afraid I’m not following,” John said. What did a nun have to do with this?
“The orphanage I grew up in needs an expansion and she hired us to do the planning. Of course, this is a pro bono case for us, but your salary won’t be affected. Are you interested?”
“What’s involved?”
John listened carefully as his boss laid it all out for him. New dormitory. Skid Row in LA. Working with a liaison. That last word kept echoing in his head.
“So, what do you say?”
He blew out a breath. He was always a bit leery of working with a third party on a project. They often expected to have more say in things than the client or push the client into things they wouldn’t necessarily need. “This is a big project, boss.”
Robert nodded. “Yes, but I was impressed with how you handled the San Diego Hilton refit and refurb. You’re ready for this one and there isn’t another one of my guys I want on this.”
“Thank you, sir,” he replied, awestruck. His boss didn’t hand out praise readily, so this was a big deal.
“You’ll be working out of the LA office for the next month, so if you have anything you need to take care of before you leave tonight, I can give you the afternoon off.”
“Take care of, sir?”
“A pet or a potted plant? I don’t know.”
John smiled. “I kill almost anything green and my building doesn’t allow pets.”
“Fine, fine,” Robert said tersely. “Leave earlier today, then, so you can pack. I’ll book your stay at the Beverly Hilton now but expect regular check-ins from me. This lady did right by me. It’s time to pay it forward.”
John stood up, extending his hand. They shook. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your trust in me.”
Robert waved him out of the office and John returned to his desk, his cup of coffee cold. Placing it out of the way, he took a seat and then picked up his phone. He dialed Beau’s number, grinning. He’d be in the same city as his best friend again and he couldn’t wait to spend more time with the guy.
“John, what’s happening?” Beau asked, panting slightly.
“Out for a run?”
“With Vee, yeah. What’s happening?”
“Guess who’s going to be in LA for the next month?”
His best friend laughed. “No shit? That’s amazing, man. Work assignment?”
“Yeah. They’re putting me up at the Beverly Hilton for the duration.”
“Nice. You could come and stay with us though, you know?”
“With how much sex you guys have? I do not want to be privy to that.”
Beau chuckled. “Fair point. When do you get in?”
“Tonight. Work starts tomorrow.”
“We should get dinner or have a drink tonight.”
“Deal. Listen, I have to get on with some work, but I’ll buzz you after I’ve settled into the room.”
“Sounds good. Later, John.”
He hung up and smiled at his blank screen.
Fuck yeah.
John zipped up the lid of his suitcase and lowered it to the floor. He was so ready for this. Ever since Beau had moved to LA, he didn’t want to admit that he’d been lonely without his best friend around. That was life though, right? People moved on, got married, had kids. Rolling the case through his living room, he made sure his fridge was empty of anything perishable, shut off all the appliances at the wall and shut the blinds. With one final sweep, he was finally satisfied everything would wait until he got home in a month.
Shutting the door behind him, he locked up, then pocketed his keys. As he rode down to the ground floor
, he thought about the project ahead. If he were being honest with himself, he was actually pretty pumped. The last few months had been harder on him than he expected, and the change of scenery would do him some good.
Passing through the lobby, he stepped outside into the warm afternoon breeze. He almost couldn’t believe it had been six months since Beau had popped the question and moved out to Hollywood to be with Vee. When John had asked about their wedding plans, Vee had told him they were hoping to be hitched by the end of the summer... which was only about four months away.
He unlocked his car and placed his bag in the trunk. It was precisely 4 PM, so traffic was going to be a bitch whichever way he looked at it. He was definitely not looking forward to heading into downtown LA though. With a sigh, he started the engine of his mid-nineties Toyota Corolla and started the drive to his new workplace for the next month.
Seven
It was late on Monday night and Natasha once again cursed the summer intern they had on staff. Their ten weeks couldn’t go fucking fast enough. She brought the piece of paper she was trying to decipher closer to her face, like the change in distance would somehow make all that chicken scratch miraculously untwist and straighten out so she could read their notes on the case she was working.
No such luck.
In fact, this close, she could feel herself going cross-eyed.
The intern was in her twenties. Why were these notes not made digitally? Every millennial loved technology, especially the kind that put a digital filter over selfies so they could somehow look better than they actually did. And thus, the vapid vanity vacuum continued.