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Michael
I t had been easy to track down the reporter who wrote the story, and even easier to figure out who’d tipped him off. A man, not a woman.
When my head of security reports to me at the office the next day, I drop into my chair. It’s Saturday, but I’m here instead of at home because I’m usually here on Saturdays. Not only that, Brianna barricaded herself in her room and wouldn’t come out.
I don’t blame her. I’d gotten upset last night, but she doesn’t seem to understand that this article could fuck up our entire year.
And now I find out it isn’t her friend who inspired the story. It is someone from Brianna’s past, however.
“His name is Chet Baker,” my security man says.
Chet Baker. As in Brianna’s ex-fiancé Chet Baker. The asshole who’d walked out on her because he “just wasn’t ready to be in a committed relationship.”
“I’ll kill him,” I say.
First he treats Brianna like shit and now he’s trying to ruin what we’ve got. He probably saw the news about our engagement and realized he wanted another chance. Or he’s an even bigger dickwad and he’s still trying to ruin Brianna’s life.
“Get all the info you can on him,” I tell my security man, standing and ready to head back home.
We already have the basics. Chet’s address, where he works, his income, and all sorts of surface level stuff—I required it when we signed the contract. But now I want dirt. I want everything so Chet can’t ever hurt Brianna again.
I make sure I’ve got my keys and phone and head downstairs. My driver’s waiting, and I tell him to take me straight home.
I’m going to fix this for Brianna. I shouldn’t have been upset with her last night—especially not about this. So what if someone tried to dispute our story? It’s our word against theirs, and they’ve got nothing to back it up.
At home, I ride the elevator to the penthouse, remembering how I pinned Brianna to the wall here and kissed her until she could barely stand. I get hard remembering her lacy underwear and how she stood so needy before me, wanting me.
Tonight. I’ll make it up to her tonight.
The elevator doors open, but when I step out, my smile freezes on my face. “What is this?”
Brianna’s cheeks burn red, but she squares her shoulders. “I didn’t think you’d be back until later.”
I eye the suitcase at her feet, and the box in her arms. “So…what? You were going to leave when I was gone? Just walk right out without telling me?”
“I left a note.”
My jaw clenches. I’m torn between anger and bewilderment. I thought things were going okay. Sure, last night was a speedbump, but we had a deal. A contract.
Of course, part of that contract states she’s allowed to leave at any time, given she informs me in writing. I guess that’s what her note is for.
Damn it.
“Okay, listen. I fucked up,” I tell her. “I was caught off guard and I got upset.”
She nods, though her face is devoid of emotion. “I understand. And I thought about it from your point of view, too. This was a weird arrangement from the beginning and something was bound to go wrong. I…” She gestures to the counter in the kitchen. “It’s all in the note.”
“I don’t want to read a fucking note,” I hiss. When her eyes narrow, I hold up my hands. “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at myself. Please, just…don’t go. Let’s talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
I grit my teeth against saying something I’ll regret. Like how she’s being stubborn. I guess, in all reality, I was a little stubborn last night, too. But we’d just gotten the whole ruse together and to have it threatened that quickly shocked me. Handling work matters is one thing but relationship stuff—my new image—is an entirely new beast.
“I want this to work.”
She hugs the box to her chest, closing herself off even more. “I understand. I did, too, but it’s complicated.”
“Which is why we have a contract.”
“Contracts don’t take feelings out of it.”
When she’s almost got me convinced this is easy for her—easy to walk out—I see it. That flicker of hurt in her eyes. She’s scared. She’s afraid of being hurt again, and I’m not doing a good job of showing her it won’t happen. After all, I shut her out last night when she’d been the most vulnerable.
“We’re supposed to be in this together,” I say, “and I fucked it up last night. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She nods her chin to the elevator. “I’m going to go.”
I step in her path. “Not yet.”
“Michael.”
“Give me five minutes.”
She sighs. “Why? I could probably walk out to the street right now and find a hundred women who’d die to be in my position. Why not one of them?”
“Because I want you.”
And it’s 100% true. I don’t want some woman off the street. I want Brianna. “Contract or not,” I say, stepping up to her, “we have something here. I want to explore that.”
When she doesn’t respond, I take the box from her arms and set it aside.
“Five minutes,” I say.
She licks her lips, and it kills me not to drag her into my arms and kiss her. I know it won’t fix the situation. I wish it would. I want it to be easier. I don’t do relationships and partnerships. But I have to learn if I want this to work.
“Let’s sit,” I suggest, taking her hand.
She doesn’t pull away, only follows me silently to the couch and sits next to me. Then she pulls her hand away and crosses her arms. “Five minutes.”
Damn, she really is pissed off. Okay, lesson learned.
“That was our first fight,” I say. “It sucked.”
She snorts softly. “Tell me about it.”
“Listen, I’m learning, okay? I wasn’t equipped to handle last night because I’m used to things going my way. When I’m in control of things and I fuck up, there’s no one to blame but myself—so I try not to fuck up. But it’s not just me in this anymore.”
“And you’re saying I fucked up?”
“No. Shit. That’s not what I meant. I meant, I’m not in control of it all, so when I don’t get my way, it’s easy to look outside myself and place the blame there. Sometimes things just happen.”
“I didn’t tell anyone else about our agreement. And Deb wouldn’t have blabbed either.”
“Whether she did or not, I should have handled it different—not gotten mad at you. But you’re right about Deb. It wasn’t her, it was Chet.”
She straightens, eyes conflicted. “What? How do you know?”
“It wasn’t hard to get information from the reporter.”
“But…” She taps her fingers against her lips, thinking. “He walked out. I mean, he didn’t even tell me in person. He texted me because he wanted that badly to be out of our engagement. And be with someone else. So why does he even care?”
I grit my teeth. I have a couple of ideas—none of which I want to share with her. Chet is out of her life. He’s given her up and she’s mine now. I’ll deal with Chet on my own. Right now, I just want her to know I’m here for her. I want her to focus on us.
“He’s being a dick,” I say, reaching for her hand. She entwines her fingers with mine—a good sign. “He probably just wants the recognition. We won’t give it to him. I’m sorry.”
She looks up, studies my face like she’s trying to decide if I’m being sincere or not. “I forgive you.”
“You do?”
She pulls in a deep breath. “Please don’t make me regret this, Michael. In fact…”
My gut clenches. “What?”
“Maybe we should just…keep this professional the rest of the time. That way this doesn’t happen again—”
“It’s not going to happen again,” I growl, gripping her hips and pulling her onto my lap.
Her eyes widen, and she steadies herself on my shoulders. “Michael.”
“Don’t say it like that—like you think I’m going to let you down. We were doing fine before, and we’re fine now, right?”
“I guess.”
I grip her chin and kiss her, coaxing her lips open with my tongue. “If we didn’t fight at least once, there’d be something wrong, right?”
“That’s true.”
I don’t add that the best thing about fighting is making up. I wouldn’t know. But it seems true. All I want to do right now is pick up where we left off last night. But damn it, it doesn’t seem right. Things are sticky right now. I’d rather take my time and get Brianna back to the same mindset she had last night than risk getting kicked in the balls.
I wouldn’t put it past her either. Brianna can be feisty.
I touch her cheek. “Can we throw away that letter now?”
She glances to the counter where it still rests. “Yes.”
I kiss her again. “Good.”