A Little Bit Cupid: A Collection of Short Stories

by Lady Boss Press

  “I can’t think about this right now. Did you finish the preliminary contract for Erzulie?”

  I push to my feet and walk to the cabinet housing our discreet printer. “Everything’s right here.”

  “Excellent.” She begins flipping through the papers quickly. “Their agent is dropping by for a draft this afternoon. I want to be able to bring them in to finalize the signing this week.”

  “That should work.” Then I stiffen. “This week?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “You’re booked solid all week.”

  “Well, can’t we move anything around?” she snaps. “Erzulie decided to go with us as her attorney of record despite the full package being offered from her recording labels. This is an enormous deal for us.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Burke.” I place an emphasis on her last name as I lose my grip on my own temper. “But first, I’m not your damn assistant, Angie is. And second, even if I were, which of the other five major deals that you booked this week would you like to push back? Because according to you, they’re all important!” By the time I’m done, I’m breathing hard.

  Her aqua eyes turn into shards of ice. But before she can open her mouth to retort, I keep going. “Maybe this isn’t quite working out the way we expected it to, Carys.” I try for gentle, but she recoils as if I’d just slapped her.

  “What? Us?”

  “No!” I rush to get out. “Car, that’s not what I’m saying at all!” I move to touch her, but she holds up a hand.

  “I apologize if I’ve been stepping over the bounds of your work responsibilities. I’ll call Angie in to figure things out.”

  “Carys,” I start, but she simply turns around on her stiletto heel and heads back into her office, closing the door softly behind her.

  I wish she’d have slammed it because then I would have felt better and not so damn guilty about having what amounts to a nervous breakdown over what I’m about to do on our anniversary combined with this crazed worry about wondering if Carys has a stalker.

  Moving back to my desk, I pick up the phone to call the second florist. “Hello. My name is David Lennan. An order was just delivered with no signature on the card. Is there any way to find out who sent it?”

  Just as the person starts talking, Angie opens the door to the office between us. Walking by with her tablet in her hand, she tosses me a sympathetic smile before she goes to take care of the woman I love.

  Which is something I’ve been struggling with doing.

  An hour later, I receive an email from Angie.

  David,

  Updated schedule for Burke.

  Happy Valentine’s Day!

  Angie

  Mentally groaning, knowing this could mean things that trickle down to me that involve contract revisions to signing new talent, it takes me a minute to understand what I’m looking at.

  There are sections of Carys’s schedule which are now marked off as PRIVATE. There’s a lock in the corner that does absolutely nothing when I double-click on the meeting to open it. Are these actual meetings that I need to know about, or is this something else? A ball begins to form in the pit of my stomach as I recall the expression on her face after I yelled at her earlier.

  Hearing Carys’s door open behind me, I close out of the app in time for her to say, “I can’t thank you enough for coming by, Ward.” The two step out of Carys’s office arm in arm. Whereas Carys is blonde and tiny, her brother is tall and dark. If I hadn’t seen hundreds of pictures of their parents over the years, I never would have pegged them for siblings.

  “My pleasure. I think things are going to work out beautifully.”

  She beams up at him. “I hope so. It will certainly be a change, that’s for damn sure.” They both laugh.

  “How about I take you to lunch? You have to be starving,” he cajoles her.

  Carys shakes her head. “No can do, today, honey. I’m too busy.”

  He runs a finger along her cheek and whispers, “I got a secret for you.”

  She leans back. “I bet mine’s bigger.”

  “Not for much longer.” They both laugh hysterically as if they’ve told each other the funniest joke in the world. “Enjoy your Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

  She gives a noncommittal sound as she watches her brother leave with a wry twist of her lips.

  I cough. Loudly.

  Carys swivels her head. “Yes?” Her voice is just a shade above arctic.

  Crap. This is absolutely not how I want this day to be going. Standing, I approach her warily. “We normally don’t do this during work hours…”

  “Do what?”

  “Us. You. Me,” I state baldly. “But what I need to do can’t wait until we get home later.”

  She sucks in a breath so huge, I can actually see it. “All right.”

  I swallow hard. “I’m sorry. I love you, Car.”

  She doesn’t say anything. My stomach is lodged somewhere in my throat as I hold my breath in anticipation. Finally, she demands, “Is that it?”

  Confused, and now adding hurt to my previous pissed off, I nod.

  Carys stomps her foot. She actually does it twice. “I love you too, damnit. Love is not the problem here. We have other issues!” Whirling away, she goes back into her office.

  This time, she does slam the door.

  “What issues? What the hell am I missing?” Racing back to my desk, I begin poring over every piece of documentation I can from quarterly reports to contracts trying to determine where the issues lie. What is causing her such stress? Such anxiety?

  And then a knock occurs from the outer door.

  Angie walks in with another bouquet of flowers. “David…” she says, hesitantly.

  “Are you kidding me right now?” I demand hotly. Stalking over, I snag them out of her hands.

  “Um, maybe I should keep those out here until you’re ready…”

  “Someone might be threatening the woman I love!” I shout my unfounded fears at Carys’s assistant. I shake the gorgeous ivory roses at her. “Some lunatic is sending flowers anonymously. I can’t figure out who it is. It’s likely a psycho stalker from some crazed Dateline episode!”

  “Um, David…” Angie begins, but I cut her off.

  Pacing back and forth, I cradle the bouquet in the crook of my arm. “All day, I’ve been panicking about asking her to marry me. I have dinner being catered—an exact replica of the Italian restaurant we went to near Broadway after she signed BBLES on as a client. It was our first date, the first night we kissed, three weeks after I got my head out of my ass after years of having her near and not managing it. Years wasted. I’ve wasted enough time. Tonight was supposed to be the night, and some fuckwit is messing with my plans.”

  “David.” Angie’s voice is trembling.

  “For weeks, I’ve been planning this. Every single moment has to be perfect. She’s everything, Angie, and for the rest of my life, I need to stand by her side. Is that too much to ask?”

  “No, but David…” I don’t let Angie finish.

  “And now? Now, I can’t even figure out who the hell is sending flowers so I can reassure her it’s not some crazed crackpot. I’m snapping at her, hurting her, and pissing her off.”

  A cool voice comes from behind me, freezing me in place. “Well, since you also suck at figuring things out, I also imagine twenty years from now our children will be coming to me with homework help.” I spin around to find Carys leaning against the door, her arms crossed over her chest. “Angie, thank you arranging David’s flower delivery today.”

  “You’re welcome, Carys. Do you need anything else, or am I good to head home?”

  I stand there frozen as Carys calmly dismisses her assistant for the day. “You’re fine to leave. Happy Valentine’s Day to you. Enjoy your evening.”

  Angie can’t quite keep the chortle in. “I hope you do as well. I’m sure it will be quite…memorable.”

  “Hmm. We shall… David!” Carys screeches as I sla
m the door in Angie’s laughing face. For good measure, I flick the lock. “That was rude!” But the sparkle in Carys’s voice betrays her humor.

  “Do you realize how long I’ve been planning this?” I ask her quietly. I don’t turn around just yet. If I do, I don’t know what will happen.

  “I’d say at least a month longer than I’ve been in talks with Ward about becoming a partner in the business, perhaps? After all”—her voice hardens—“isn’t that why you approached him about a job?” My shock holds me frozen. Carys has no such problem and continues. “Tell me, David, when were you planning on giving me your resignation—before or after I said yes?”

  Shit. My head thunks forward against the door. I crush the flowers in my arms and am poked with a card in the arm. I don’t say anything as I hear the swish of her silk-encased legs approach me.

  “Open the card,” she whispers, her voice right behind my shoulder.

  Reaching down, I grab the card nestled amid the bouquet of flowers. Pushing off the door a bit, I lower my head to read it aloud. “No more secrets.”

  “That’s right. No more secrets. Now, turn around and tell me what the hell you want,” she demands.

  A surge of love, lust, and fury rage through me as I spin to face the pint-sized sprite with a spirit as big as a giant. Flinging the flowers to the side, I stalk forward until our bodies are touching. “First, I want to know why you were sending me roses all day today? If you were pissed, why not just ask me about it.”

  A beautiful smile crosses her face. “We’re busy, and with Ward coming on, we’re going to have so much more work to do. So, I decided we should get married soon. There’s a lot to be done. With all of the appointments I asked her to fit in, Angie just couldn’t manage a visit to the florist. So, I decided to send you roses. Based on your reaction, I’ve decided to go with the wine-colored ones. You seemed to like those the best,” she concludes smugly.

  “So, you’re saying you were playing me, making decisions we should be making together?” I accuse.

  “You’re damn right I was. Exactly how you were doing that to me. And before you get pissed, tell me how it feels to have the shoe on the other foot?” I stand there fuming while Carys’s smug smile blooms across her face. She licks her lips in anticipation before whispering, “Now, do you have a question you want to ask me?” she demands.

  I advance toward her, a diabolical look on my face. I begin to undo my tie even as Carys slowly backs away from me. “Maybe,” I say offhandedly. I flick the button at my collar open. Carys’s small hands always have a problem with undoing that particular button when my shirts are overstarched.

  “What?” Her voice comes out as high-pitched and screechy as Sir Walter Alfingham did when he was dumped on the red carpet during the Grammys last year.

  Her back hits the wall just as I shrug off my jacket. “We have a few things to settle first.”

  Her legs part as mine slips in between them. I can feel the damp heat of her pussy against the thin wool of my suit trousers. She breathlessly pants. “Like what?”

  “Like this.” And pinning her hands to her sides, I lower my head and capture her lips.

  Chapter Five

  Carys

  Even as David backs me against the wall, I can tell he’s warring between the need to fuck me or kill me.

  Too damn bad. If he wanted his perfect Valentine’s Day proposal, he shouldn’t have gone out job hunting, to my brother of all people. I damn well know what he was trying to do—level some stupid, testosterone-laden playing field between us.

  “Didn’t think I would find out?” I say sweetly as he approaches, his long legs eating up the distance between us as I remember the phone call from over a month ago that has set me on a knife’s edge since alternately hoping he’d pull his head out of his ass and talk with me and hoping he do exactly what he’s doing right now so I can have the pleasure of yanking it out with both of my own hands.

  “In case you’re wondering, I gave you the referral that Ward called for,” I taunt.

  David growls. “Remind me to thank Ward later.” His hands slap on either side of my head, trapping me against the wall.

  But just bringing up David’s obtuse behavior sets off my own temper. I place my hands into the center of his rock-hard chest and push. He doesn’t budge.

  I let out a growl of my own, much like I did when I hung up the phone with Ward that day.

  “I didn’t think a referral would be a problem,” Ward said laconically in response to my complete silence on the other end of the line.

  “Oh?” I was immensely proud of myself for not allowing the betrayal to slide into my voice. Only to have it erased my utter shock when Ward howled with laughter in my ear.

  “I don’t know how the two of you have managed to work alongside each other and still build what you have, Carys,” he says wistfully. “But if I was planning on marrying the woman I love…”

  There was no holding back my screech of “Excuse me?” at that point. Surging out of my chair, I ignored the view from my office as I began to pace agitatedly.

  Ward muttered, “Shit. Did I let the cat out of the bag?”

  “More like you dumped the ring out of the box,” I flung back hotly. “Now, spill it, Ward. You’re my damn brother, for Christ’s sake.”

  Reluctantly, he did, knowing it would be so much worse for him if he didn’t tell me what I want to know.

  I fell back into my chair, stunned. “All he had to do was say something,” I whispered weakly. “From the moment we met, all I’ve ever wanted was David. Hell, I gave up working at Wildcard just for a chance…”

  “And now it looks like he’s trying to do the same thing, only you don’t have a fraternization policy,” my brother said gently.

  "For obvious reasons,” I retorted.

  “The question is what are you going to do about it?”

  A million thoughts ran through my head, pulling me in opposing directions, but at the center grounding me was one thing. David.

  But I’m not known for thinking on my feet for nothing. A memory of an idea Ward and I had ages ago long before tragedy forced me to become my brother’s guardian as well as his sister stirred back to life. I ran through the possibilities quickly, and the answer was so clear it left me as smug as a cat with a saucer full of cream.

  Tipping my chair back, I said, “What would you say if I told you fine?”

  Ward choked on the coffee that’s never far from his reach. “That you have a screw loose. What are you thinking, Car?”

  “I’m thinking you can have David.” I paused for one heartbeat… Two. “But I get you in exchange.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line before Ward pieced it together. “You mean…”

  Now, with every rise and fall of David’s chest that I can feel under my hands, the incredulity in his olive-green eyes, I feel vindicated. “You were going to decide my future without consulting me?” I demand.

  By the way David freezes, it finally penetrates how utterly infuriated I am. Ever since the car wreck that took my parents’ lives, I’ve never had the luxury of being helpless. I was never able to cede control about anyone, anything, because I had duties and responsibilities too great to shirk.

  I walked away from a prestigious job clerking for a federal judge to move back to New York ensure my younger brother Ward had the stability of our family home while finishing high school and going to college. I set my life, my dreams, on hold long enough to make certain he would have every opportunity to thrive without Mom and Dad.

  And then I felt like God was playing a sick joke on me the day I walked in on my dream job at Wildcard and I felt my heart be touched by angels only to be laughed at by the devil all in one breath.

  “You’re going to leave me,” I accuse, pain evident in each word I hurl at him.

  David’s eyes close. “Never.”

  “You are,” I press. “You took a job with my brother.” Pain seeps out of every word.

&nb
sp; “I thought…” He shakes his head before determination sets in.

  “You thought to prove something to other people who might judge us. Judge you for working for you girlfriend? Your wife?” My voice chokes up at the end.

  His mouth opens and closes several times before his head drops down against mine. His fingers tangle with mine against the wall before he admits, “You’re right.”

  Slowly, I nod, accepting his actions for being out of love instead of malice. His apology evident in every puff of air we exchange, David leans down and presses his mouth gently against one eyebrow, then the other. One cheek, the other. The corner of each lip. And then finally, he brushes his lips across mine once, twice, until I grant him entry.

  Our kiss is languid, tongues that twine our hearts tightly together mixed with the harsh, heated promise of passion. It’s apologies, promises, and vows, spoken in the true language before God confounded speech through the tower of Babel. It’s passion between two people who have touched each other intimately, who know down to their souls what lies beyond sex when love is involved.

  We stand there, our hearts touching, our breath mingling, for long moments before David whispers, “You know how I grew up, Car. My dad’s the man of the house—constantly telling me how he’s the one out providing for the family, for my ma. Never fails to bring up every time we talk how he’s busting his ass to make sure everyone has what they need. Here? You give and give—from a stunning home to a job. It’s all because you gave it to me. Maybe I needed to know what I could do on my own,” he admits, the vulnerability behind his actions clear.

  And any lingering anger I have seeps away. Reaching up, I frame his face with my hands. “My love, if I have so much to give, it’s because I lost so much. Please remember that.”

  His brow furrows, but he nods. “I know.”

  “Don’t you know, I’d rather be struggling to pay the rent and student loans than have millions of dollars at my disposal? That Ward would too if we could bring our parents back to life?” I shake my head against his as his arms wrap around me. “The home you and I live in is theirs; we’re just filling it with the love that was missing for so many years. That’s what you bring to it, to me.” I lay my hand over his heart. “What’s in here has more value than anything. And the idea of not being with you every day? It gutted me, David. It made me think you didn’t want to be with me.”