by Lindsey Hart
My lady bits are still throbbing, reminding me just how much I enjoyed our hot encounter on my counter. I hate myself for that. For enjoying the aftershocks that are still ripping through my bloodstream. For being human. For—for never having good sex until this moment and for ruining it with all my self-doubt.
“How are we supposed to work together now? This—we should never have—this shouldn’t have happened!”
“I’m sorry…” Aiden pauses. His hands still on the button of his pants. “But I was under the impression you wanted this too. Ripping my shirt off and clawing at my pants was a pretty direct indication. Don’t stand there now and tell me that you—”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” I huff. “See! Men! They never listen to a single thing!” I throw my hands up and begin to pace. I hate that I’m wobbly. I blame it on the wine and not on the fact that I was just well and thoroughly—er—dicked. The word pops into my mind and brands itself there in neon flashing letters. It’s something Aria says, and she says it often. I can’t believe I even thought about it.
“So, tell me,” Aiden says behind me, with far more patience than I know I deserve. “How will this be a mess? We can still work together. This doesn’t change anything.”
“It doesn’t change anything?” I nearly screech. How can something so monumental for me be something he’s so blasé about? Oh right. Because he does this all the time. With women who look nothing like me. “It changes everything!” I shake my head furiously. I face my back to him because I don’t trust him with my face. I’m probably worse than an open book at the moment, and I don’t want him to do any reading. “No. No, this is not going to work. This was all a huge mistake. You shouldn’t be here. In my place. In my city. In my—anything. I—we never should have—that is…” I need to get my shit under control and fast. I’m spiraling out here, ruining what was the best experience of my life—and how sad is that really? “You need to go back to LA. I’ll pay you what we agreed on. Just please—you need to keep this…”
“Between us? Who do you think I’m going to tell? You could give me an ounce of credit, Rin. You don’t think I could stay and act professional? Or is it yourself that you don’t trust?”
I bite down hard on my lip, tears stinging the bridge of my nose. I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t just be some pity fuck, even if it was a really, really good pity party we just had. I can’t be his project. I’m a successful woman. Independent. I need to gather up an ounce of dignity here and make him leave. I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust my judgment. I’ve made some shit decisions in the past, and this is just another one of those. Honestly, I’m tired of being hurt. I’m tired of feeling like shit. I want to matter. I want to matter to someone. One special someone. I’m not in a hurry to settle down, as old fashioned as that sounds, but is it so bad to want something meaningful?
“You said I was the most beautiful woman in the room at the center. Were you blind?” I’m just being mean now, but I can’t stop it. All the bitterness I kept so carefully bottled after Brad just became uncorked in a big way, and it’s spilling over, into the room, infecting anything that was good.
“Don’t do that either. Don’t make this into something it isn’t. I don’t pity you. If you’d pull your head out of your incredibly pretty ass, you’d actually see that. You are gorgeous. You’re perfect. It doesn’t matter what anyone else says, but it matters what you think.”
“Yeah? That’s all that matters,” I snort. “I’m sorry, but that’s just straight-up bullshit. I love myself. I’m enough. Blah, blah, blah. If I wanted a therapist, I’d pay for one.”
“You’re afraid. We’re all afraid. I get that, but you shouldn’t lash out at me. I thought you really enjoyed yourself. Don’t convince yourself you didn’t.”
“You’re quite sure of yourself and your skills.”
“Really? Because if you were faking it, you should know you only have to do that once. Not like, four times. That’s a little overdramatic.”
I curl my hands into fists. “I’m not afraid. I just want you to leave. This should never have happened. It was the most epic mistake. I was drunk. I—”
“You were not drunk! You were buzzed, and you definitely knew what you were doing. Don’t say that. It makes me feel like a huge piece of shit. Worse than your ex, and he really takes the cake. Fucking literally.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, because yeah, I know that was a low blow. I don’t usually aim for the nuts. God. I don’t usually aim at all. This isn’t me. This isn’t me standing here being mean right after the best sex of my life. This is someone else. A Rin I don’t know. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am scared. I’m scared of lots of things, and it’s ugly and shitty to have to admit it. To myself. To anyone.
And there’s Aiden, right here with me. Sex god extraordinaire. He knows me better than Brad ever did, and we were together for years. Aiden’s only known me for a couple of days. Which makes what happened between us that much worse. Plus, I’m his boss. Kind of. Yeah, I actually am. It’s gross. It’s wrong. Shame crawls up my neck, staining my face a bright scarlet.
“Just—please go. I’m sorry. This whole thing was bad. I should never have come to LA. I should never have let my friends get carried away.”
“You wanted me to model for you. You guys have wanted that for a long time. You finally came yourself, and I admired that.”
“No, you didn’t. And even if you did, it was tainted with pity because I told you about the other stuff. You didn’t just agree to come and model. Please. Aiden…”
“I’m not leaving. Not until you turn around and tell me that you aren’t just having a massive momentary meltdown or that you normally get post-coital rage. I want to hear you tell me that you seriously think this was a mistake. That what just happened was a mistake.”
I slam my eyes shut and curl my hands until my knuckles ache. A few seconds pass. I can literally hear them ticking, and there isn’t any freaking clock in the place. Finally, I let out a hard breathe and pivot. Slowly. As in, the whole thing takes about a minute. By the time I look into Aiden’s face, I feel like I’m composed enough. At least, I thought so. I’m not prepared to see the tenderness in his eyes. No, not just tenderness. There’s pain there too. Like my meltdown, as he called it, really is hurting him.
Whatever. He’ll get over it. He’s Aiden. Aiden Builder. The Aiden Builder. He looks like he was put on this earth just to bring women to tears and spontaneous combustion. Oh, wait, no. Not combustion even though I’m sure a few panties have melted off just by looking at the guy’s photo. More like spontaneous ovulation. The guy’s so perfect he really could induce immaculate conception. Whatever. The point is, Aiden is gorgeous. He’s successful. He’s actually nice, which was a surprise. He’s kind of funny. Kind of quirky. Kind of awesome. He’d be a good catch for anyone, and I’m sure he can have his pick, when and if he wants it.
Women like me—women who are less hot than he is by a significant amount—we don’t work with guys who look like him. We can’t. It would just defy the laws of the universe or something. Also, there’s the whole power dynamic. I’m significantly richer—which is a gross thought, but one that has always kind of bothered me, and I’m also his boss. And that’s the worst of it all. I’m his freaking boss. The tabloids already had a heyday with me over the whole Brad thing. I really don’t want to be plastered all over them again. And I don’t want Aiden dragged through my mess. My mud. Mine.
This whole mess was mine, and I should have dealt with it accordingly instead of letting my friends talk me into doing something even stupider. I should have exercised an ounce of judgment and common sense.
Frick. Now I’m standing here, facing Aiden after we just—well—yeah.
I guess common sense and good judgment aren’t my strong suit lately.
“I need you to leave. Please. Please go back to LA. I’m sorry. For all of this. It was wrong. I know that. It was wrong in every way, and I take full responsibility for everythi
ng that—”
Aiden shakes his head. He tears his gaze from mine and snorts. He actually snorts at me like an angry, ornery horse that I just deprived of an apple. “Are you freaking serious right now, Rin?”
“Yes! I—of course, I’m serious!” My voice trembles, though, betraying me. I am, in fact, quite unsure whether I’m serious or not.
I think I’ve just done a lot of damage by having a small, long overdue breakdown slash self-awakening moment. Damage that can’t just be undone. I can’t just smile and say, oh, by the way, I was just kidding about all that crap. Thanks for the amazing sex. Let’s do it again tomorrow. Or maybe not. How about right now? Then what’s your schedule like for tomorrow? The day after? The day after that? Actually, pencil me in for twice a day. This is real life here. Not some fantasy bullshit. I might want to take the words back, but I can’t. They’re out there. I can’t change the past few minutes any more than I can change who I am or what I am.
“Fine.” Aiden bites the word out. “I’ll be back in LA and out of your hair by tomorrow morning. Do us both a favor and don’t make this any worse by saying you’ll pay me. You want this to be a mistake? We’ll call it a mistake then. Keep your money. I’m good without it.”
I freeze when Aiden’s loud footsteps scrape over the floor. I swear I even stop breathing. Of course, he can’t just leave like that. He has to give me one last parting shot since the last one wasn’t a complete knockout. His hand is on the door. I sense it. I will him to just walk out. Of course, he can’t.
“You know, Rin, I expected more. Honestly.”
The door handle rattles. I want to look up. I want to see if he’s still here. I want to hurl myself at him and tell him I’m sorry. I want to blame myself some more, say some more shit about me, make him understand, in any way I can, that I just can’t do this for so many reasons.
I can’t. I can’t look up. I can’t face him.
The door opens. And then it closes. Quietly. With the smallest of clicks.
Honestly, I wish he would have slammed it.
CHAPTER 16
Rin
No matter how bad things got, I’ve never wrapped myself in my bed, cocooned against the world. I guess there really is a first time for everything. I’m snuggled deep, wallowing in the misery of my own making when I hear footsteps echo through the apartment. By the scrape, click, scrape, click pattern, I know it can’t be anyone other than Aria.
I groan and pull the covers higher around my face. Why did I ever give my friends the passcode to my place? Oh, right. Because generally, I like having them around.
A throat clears loudly from somewhere in the room, probably the doorway. I don’t move out of my den. I’m safe here, in my nest of blankets. I don’t have to explain myself or try and justify what I did. Aria doesn’t know anything about what happened with Brad the night before, and she sure as hell doesn’t know anything about what happened after with Aiden. I’d like to keep it that way, if only for a short while longer. Knowing Aria, she’ll probably get it out of me one way or another.
“Go away,” I moan. “Please. For one day, I’d like to sleep in.”
“It’s noon,” Aria states dryly.
I let out another groan and clasp the blankets so tight around my face that I nearly smother myself. Honestly, death might be preferable to experiencing yet another round of humiliation.
“What are you doing here?” My voice comes out scratchy and raw, kind of like the throat it just scraped past.
“I’m here because I love you. Well, and because Aiden told me I should come.”
“Aiden?” The mention of his name does something to my stomach, my chest, my legs, and my eyes all at once. My stomach bottoms out, my chest feels like it’s going to cave in, my legs turn to water, and my eyes…okay, they’re a little watery too.
I have to throw back the blankets. When I come up for air—my hair, a static-filled mess flying all around my face—I spot Aria. She’s standing in the doorway, like I thought, with her arms crossed. She has this carefully neutral expression on her face, but I can tell she’s trying too hard. Her eyes are like laser beams homing in on me. Yeah. She definitely knows something.
“He also said he was on his way back to LA. For good. He told me you might need a friend, then hung up.”
“How did he get your number?” I moan and flop back down against the pillows. They barely catch me before my head thwacks off the headboard. Not that it could hurt any more than it already does. I’m pretty sure it couldn’t, given that it feels like a train just steamrolled straight through the center of my brain. I guess that’s what half a bottle of wine and crying yourself to sleep does for you.
“He’s pretty thoughtful.” Aria’s brow arches. She waits. God. She’s so perfectly made up that it hurts. It hurts my already splitting head. Pink. Does she always have to wear pink everything? Today, it’s pink yoga pants, pink kitten heels, and a pink oversized pullover. Honestly, it’s the most dressed-down I’ve ever seen her. “He’s also probably just touching down in LA right now.”
She pauses, and I think for a second that she might let me be and just get me a glass of water, but nope. It’s not Aria’s style. Instead, she stalks into the room, her heels clicking away and plops down on the bed. Right. Beside. Me. She swings her legs and rests them above the covers, shoes and all.
The silence that ensues threatens to cleave my head right in half. Whoever said silence was oppressive was really effing spot on.
“What happened?” She finally sighs, right into my ear. I literally feel the rush of her warm breath. “Why’s he leaving now? He would have been really good for the new line you’re launching. I thought it was a done deal.”
The tears welling up in my eyes don’t stop welling. They keep on coming straight from the heart of me, overflowing out of the corners of my eyes and spilling down my face. A few dribble into the shell of my ear. I don’t want to talk about it, but maybe unburdening myself is exactly what I need, and I just don’t know it yet.
“I made him leave,” I whisper raggedly. Aria goes rigid beside me. “I called it off. It was—it wasn’t a good idea. It should never have happened. He’s…we—I’ve made a huge mess.” I then proceed to fill Aria in on everything I consider to fall under the category of said huge mess. When I’m done, I turn, balancing on my elbow so I can face her.
I’m surprised to see she has a half-smile that she’s trying to bite back.
“What? What the hell is so funny about any of what I just said?” I demand sharply.
Aria shakes her head as best she can while lying flat on her back. “Nothing. I’m sorry. It’s not funny. Well—I guess it kind of is. The whole Brad thing. Oh my god. I would have paid money to see that. Do you think I could bribe one of the security people at the building to release the tape for me?”
“I seriously doubt it.” Even I can’t help but offer up a watery smile. The look on Brad’s face, covered with gooey chocolate cake had been pretty priceless. It was even better when Aiden smeared a finger through it—his eff-you finger—and licked the shit off.
“Okay, I only have a few questions. First, why the heck did you let Aiden leave if you thought the sex was good? Seriously. I know you tried to tell me why, but I’m having trouble understanding it. You meet a sinfully gorgeous guy. You get a taste of him. The first thing you do is panic and spit it out?”
“Jeez, it wasn’t like he was a hot dog or something.”
“No. But I bet he had a very nice hot dog. A hot dog you’re never going to see again because you told him to leave, and you told him you were too rich for him and couldn’t bang him anymore because you were his boss.”
“Well… both of those things are valid.”
Aria snorts. Loud snorts. Like an angry bull or something. She doesn’t even need to say anything. I can figure it out for myself what she thinks just from that furious puff of air. “Who cares? I mean, who gives a shit if you make more money? Who cares if you’re kind of his boss for lik
e ten seconds of his life. Do you honestly give a shit about what people say?”
“Yeah, I do. If I look like a huge jerk in the media, it affects the company, which affects the people who work for me. There are a lot of people counting on me to keep things running so they can keep on making a paycheck. Not to mention all my foundations. And then there’s Aiden. I don’t want people dragging him through the mud and ruining his career over this.”
“Really? I think that’s a pretty shitty excuse.”
“Come on!” I gape at her. “It’s not an excuse, and it’s not shitty.”
“It’s pretty crappy.”
“Aria!”
“Well, seriously! You didn’t even give Aiden a chance. He gave you—and I’m not even going out on a limb here to guess it was the best workout session you’ve ever had, hands down, and you insult him with that nonsense right after? You called him a mistake. You said you basically only had sex with him because you were drunk. You might as well have just put on a pair of stilettos and skewered his nuts on one while cutting them off with a dull knife in the other hand. You might as well have just taken that shoe, grilled it on the barbeque, and forced him to eat it after. It would have been less painful. Especially after what he did, saving you from Brad.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want someone to have sex with me just because they feel sorry for me,” I pout. I don’t confess to the whole part where I wished I could take back everything I said. Where I knew it was wrong and where I cried for hours after I forced Aiden to leave while what I wanted to do was march right over to his granny condo and tell him how sorry I was and beg him to stay.
Aria shoves herself up. She’s on her feet and running out of the room before I can say anything. I stare at the empty side of the bed, stunned.
I’m not stunned for long, because in about five seconds flat, she’s back and carrying a glass of water. Finally, she decided to give me some much-needed hydration. I stretch out a hand, but to my shock, she stalks over and, with a flick of her wrist, douses me with the entire contents of the glass. She picked a big glass too.