Mia

“So you’ll come out tonight for drinks?” Fran pushes.

I sigh and readjust the phone against my shoulder, shoving my glasses up my nose as I leaf through the diary in front of me and reread the schedule for the next week.

“Fran, it’s Thursday and I still have a shit ton of stuff to get through before Mr. Fabrizio comes back from Saudi. I really don’t think it’s gonna go over well if he walks in here and I’m nursing a hangover.”

“I don’t give a shit if you’re nursing a case of overused pussy! You are coming out with me and Jam if I have to come over and rip you out of that shit hole you live in by the hair on your head.” She snarls.

I’d laugh, I would, but she’s serious and the truth is that I am just not feeling it today. It’s been four weeks since Lucas screwed me over in that hotel in Italy before sticking me on a plane, business class to be exact, and sent me back here to take care of things.

I got stuck in as soon as my feet hit the ground, getting rid of the bimbo polluting my once pristine desk and then making sure that everything is handled.

I didn’t even get to see Sergio or Daphne before I was taken to the airport and shoved onto the plane but then again, I don’t think I’d have made it through saying goodbye to them in the condition I was in.

Work cures, though, at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself every day as I worked myself to the bone just to forget. I talk to Lucas daily, reporting on the progress of any deals, problems and just generally taking orders and making life simple for him while he’s in Italy at his father’s bedside.

It’s been weeks and I have yet to lose the hollow, aching feeling that settled in when I left, my mind shying away from examining anything to do with that night.

Besides working, I have also sold my house, a miracle in this market but then I guess God owed me a miracle after what he let Lucas do to me. Anyway, it sold and I took some of the money and bought a cute little place in a converted Victorian that houses three other apartments. Some of the money I had left is going to renovating and the rest I split between Justin and Shaun.

They tried to refuse and send it back, but I threatened to give it away, so they eventually capitulated and accepted. That made me happy because as much as they’ve been sunny and just generally chirpy, I got the idea they needed the money, that their lodge is in need of some cash.

“Mia!”

“Stop yelling at me, I’m still here. Listen, Franny, I love you, right, and you know it, but I just am not feeling it tonight, okay. I’ve got work coming out of my ears, I still have to paint the living room and the damn tub faucet is leaking so I need to call a plumber. I’m over my head with shit to do and my boss is coming in tomorrow.”

“Which is why you need a few drinks and a shoulder! Come on, Mia. You never told me what happened in Italy and I get that you need time to get over whatever that fucker did to you, but it’s been weeks and you still look as if you haven’t slept a wink,” she says softly, the arguing being lost beneath a real show of concern.

No, I haven’t hardly slept because whenever I do I dream about him and the night he took me. If that isn’t painful enough I also dream about the rest of it, often waking in a sweat when I get to the part where he laughed at me, taunting me with my body’s reaction to his touch.

I feel dirty, violated by my own stupidity, and tired. But life goes on and time waits for no man, especially not me.

“Fran.”

“Okay! Okay, so we won’t go out. Jam knows how to mix a killer margarita and I have frozen pizzas and a box of cupcakes in the fridge. Come over and we’ll eat, drink and do pedicures,” she pleads.

“Ugh, fine. But I don’t eat pepperoni, so you’d better burn me something else,” I warn, scrunching my nose when she whoops and yells something at her recently acquired roommate Jamaica.

“I’ll burn you any Goddamn thing you want, Mia girl. Be here by seven and get ready to drink girl,” she trills, ending the call with a filthy joke that makes me laugh so hard I’m still chuckling when the elevator opens and everything inside me freezes.

Lucas, looking worn out and short-tempered, strolls off and stops at my desk, his gaze boring into me as I sit quietly and try not to flinch, my natural instinct to flee stopped only when it occurs to me that it would be useless and stupid. I have nowhere else to go.

“Sir, we weren’t expecting you,” I say calmly, ordering the notes on my desk with only slightly shaking hands.

“Yeah, I know. You look terrible, Mia! Cameron says you moved?”

Like I would believe he gives a shit, I think snidely, forcing myself to meet his gaze with one bereft of anything but cool, calm professionalism.

“Yes, sir,” I answer, striving to keep myself detached while he glares at me, his hands shoved deep into his pockets in a way I know signals stress.

Before the…event, I would have jumped up and scolded him for running himself ragged and then ordered food and pampered him. Now I could care less. At least that’s what I want him to think as I sit calmly and wait for my next orders.

“You didn’t like the house?” he asks, probably trying for an icebreaker.

“No, sir. It was too big for one person.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess, ahem, now that the boys are on their own and…so you got a new place?” he asks hesitantly.

“Yes, sir. A small apartment in a renovated Victorian. Closer to work,” I answer, powering off my computer.

It’s just gone half past four so I only have another thirty minutes to look at him, thank God, and I start getting ready to leave so that I can minimize the fallout of whatever it is he’s doing.

“Mia-”

“Can I get you coffee, sir?” I cut in.

I don’t want to hear a thing he has to say, not one thing and I let him know this by rising before he can answer and walking to the professional espresso machine he paid forty grand for.

It hasn’t been used in four weeks, not since I returned and made myself start drinking tea, a much safer poison since I had to call him at least once a day and I was trying to keep cool. I miss it though and I can’t deny wanting a cup so badly my tongue tingles.

“Mia, I need to talk to you,” he says softly, following me into his office where I place the cup on his desk and take a seat, pen and pad at the ready.

Professional Mia. Be professional and remember that he’s not your friend, just a dick you work for.

“Okay,” I murmur, glancing at my watch. “I’ll try to get whatever you need before five. If I can’t, I’ll call Melinda to finish up if you need anything else.”

That startles him and I take a huge amount of satisfaction out of seeing Lucas on the back foot, my behavior obviously throwing him. Huh, take that asshole. The doormat is officially gone. No more late nights and running after him to make sure he’s eaten and gets enough sleep. From now on, I earn my salary but no more. Just work as stipulated by the new contract he couriered to me. Eight to five. No more.

“I don’t need you to take notes! I want to talk to you about what happened in Milan,” he says, pacing in front of the windows in a state of what I can only describe as agitation.

I do not, I repeat do not want to hash over what went down, especially not that last night when he made me feel like…a slut, I guess you would say.

It’s laughable really since the only guy I have ever slept with is this mook, but still I felt as if I had somehow wronged him, played it fast and loose when, in reality, I was there the next morning when Gisele came waltzing out of his room, putting paid to anything I may or may not have wanted to say to him.

That right there, that show of power was what finally allowed me to sit up and shake off the feelings I’d harbored for years. He wants to be my boss, and only my boss? Bring it on sucker, I can play this far better than you.

“In Milan, sir? Oh no! Nothing went wrong with Sergio did it?” I gasp, injecting a false sense of panicked concern.

I know full well it didn’t, that Sergio is recovering nicely, having spoken to Daphne when she called and demanded to know what was going on. I, of course, did not tell her everything, just that things were a mess here and I needed to fix it to free up Lucas’s time.

I may despise the man, but I am not getting in between him and his mama. And I am so not having a heart to heart with him about Milan so that he can make me feel worse about myself.

Not that I do because I have been out with Bronson since my return and our talks have really set me free in a way. We’re friends, nothing more and he made me see that after Lucas’s behavior, I have nothing to feel ashamed about.

“No! Jesus, that isn’t…Papa is fine. They completed the surgery successfully, as you know, and he’s convalescing at home with Mama to drive him crazy,” he says roughly, shoving a hand through his hair. “What I said to you…”

“Sir?”

“Dammit, Mia, I’m sorry, okay? I should never have said and did those things to you. The way I behaved was unacceptable and I owe you an apology.”

“Thank you, sir,” I manage, keeping my spine ramrod stiff. “I’ve had a call from the Grayson group and as you are here now and have the next few days free I can go ahead and set up a meeting to discuss the Lorens take over?”

Good. Stay steady. Don’t veer from your course.

Lucas doesn’t like that at all and I almost squeak and drop the act when he curses and strides straight for me, his face carved in stone.

“Don’t do that! Don’t pretend that what I said and did didn’t hurt you because I know it must have. God, Mia, I am so, so sorry for treating you that way and intimating that…” He doesn’t finish and he looks so wretched and remorseful it would be easy for me to let it all go and drop the act.

I don’t. I’ve been hurt enough. Six years I loved a man who treated me like a lapdog and this last four weeks…hurt worse than anything else I have ever felt. I won’t crumble again and I will not make this any easier for him.

He may be sorry and I can appreciate that because it’s never sat well with me believing that he’s a monster who doesn’t feel. I just can’t let it go, though, because as much as I hate him for the way he treated me, I hate me more for being such a naïve fool.

I need defenses now and I’m employing those in the form of a calm, detached professional relationship, as I should have from the very beginning.

“I appreciate that, sir. Now if that’s all? I have plans for the night and, as I said, if you need anything, I can arrange for Melinda to be on call,” I say, standing and waiting further instruction.

He’s not happy, I can see it in the way his jaw goes hard and starts ticking but for whatever reason, maybe the completely unfazed expression I’m striving to hold, he closes his eyes and nods.

I beat a hasty retreat after that and almost break into a run when the elevator opens and I feel him come out of his office.

“Goodnight, sir.”

“Night, cara.”

I keep steady until the elevator closes and then fall into the wall, shaking so much it’s a miracle I can walk straight when the door opens in the lobby. I pass security at a slow pace, my iron will keeping me from running and see Cameron standing outside beside Lucas’s car, his smile soft.

“Hey, Mia.”

“Hi.”

“Uh, so can I give you a lift?” he asks when I go to walk passed him, the pedestrians leaving the building knocking into me when I stop and turn to look at him.

“No, thanks. Bus should be here any minute.”

“Uh, I think the boss wanted me to make sure you got home.” He tries again, stepping in front of me when I go to walk by.

“No thank you, Cameron, as I said, the bus should be here any minute.”

“Aw, come on, Mia, make this easy for me, huh? He’ll shit a brick if I let you go home on the bus.”

“Cameron, I have been taking the bus for weeks now and I can assure you, I get home in one piece every single time. Move.”

“Dammit. Please just-”

I ignore him and pass, hopping onto the bus when it stops just feet from the entrance of the building. Unfortunately, Cameron chooses to follow and I’m trapped when he sits down beside me, the bus taking off a second later.

“He’s sorry you know. Whatever he said or did to you, it’s been eating him up for weeks.”

“I don’t care.”

“Mia, don’t be like this. Christ, the two of you have been best friends since you walked into his office and whatever happened you can’t just throw away years of friendship.”

“You have no idea what happened, Cameron, so I would appreciate it if you’d mind your own business and stop making statements about something you don’t understand.”

He goes still at my tone, probably not used to this clam, unfazed side of me and looks at me askance, as if he really expects me to break down and just spill the beans.

“I know he’s a blind fool and that he’s hurt you-”

“You have no idea how he hurt me-”

“But whatever it is, he’s been a wreck. Hell, he hasn’t fucked in four weeks and that right there tells me loud and clear that he’s in a bad place. Mia, come on babe, cut the guy some slack. Whatever happened let him make it up to you.” He tries to wheedle me, expecting me to smile when he throws me his dimples.

Hearing the words has an effect on me that I force down, the joy of hearing that he hasn’t touched another woman making me soar, stupidly, until I recall the glowing smile on Gisele’s face after she walked out of his room. Followed by the man whore himself.

“He can’t,” I say stonily, looking out of the window at the passing scenery.

Seeing the less than clean conditions of the city makes me miss Italy and the cobblestone roads, ambience and joy that I associate with it. At least I did until Lucas made it into my own personal hell.

“He can. That guy is wracked with guilt. He’d do anything to make it right, I know he would.”

“He can’t.” I repeat.

“Of course he-”

“He can’t! He can’t ever make it right because he broke my heart and then called me a freaking slut because after he slept with me and took my virginity, he proceeded to walk away as if it never happened. Oh! And the next night? He slept with Gisele after intimating that I’m loose. For going out with a friend to escape him. Still think he can make it right?” I sneer, getting up when my stop comes up. “The only thing that could make this right for me is if I went back in time and never slept with him. Can he make that happen, Cameron? No? Then he can shove his apologies and guilt up his ass because as far as I am concerned we are not friends anymore, not family. He’s my boss. I’ll do the job he’s trapped me in and I will pretend to give a shit about whatever it is he wants as far as the job is concerned but that is it.”

I turn and walk off before he can gather himself to reply and head home with the numbness getting all the more intense. I don’t care about his guilt or the friendship we once shared. I’m on my own, free do whatever I want outside of work hours and that suits me just fine.

As far as I am concerned, Mr. Fabrizio can get screwed.

I get in and throw on some jeans and a tank just as the doorbell rings. Groaning, I answer and almost collapse in gratitude when Fran bounces on her heels on the porch, the ground level unit I bought having offered more in the way of comfort than one would think.

I love sitting out here at night, watching the kids play street hockey while mothers yell ‘dinner!’ at the top of their lungs.

“You look like a bag of shit that got rolled over by a truck tire.”

“Gee thanks. Just what I needed to hear. Twice in less than an hour,” I mutter, grabbing my bag from the hall table and locking up. “I thought I was coming to you.”

“Nope. Jam said you’d probably try and bail so I was hedging my bets,” she informs me sweetly, making me laugh a groan and follow her out to her car.

“I’m being straight with you though, Mia, you look like shit,” she says, watching me over the roof of the car with a frown.

“I’ve been busy and besides, wasn’t it you who crawled into work at eight one morning still wearing the same clothes from the night before, smelling like sex, booze and stale cigar smoke?” I ask, turning the tide on her.

The truth is that I have been feeling icky lately but I guess that will happen if you survive on less than three hours of sleep a night and coffee is no longer an option.

“Hey! That wasn’t my fault. My bosses took us all out for a celebratory club hop and I wasn’t the only one who looked like death. Just the only one that pulled a dick that night.”

“God, you’re impossible.”

“Just being honest. Now stop changing the subject.”

“God, why am I best friends with an ambulance chaser?” I mutter, leaning my elbows on the roof to get comfortable since she doesn’t seem inclined to open the doors.

“Because I’m cute, honest and I’d hide a body for you?”

“That must be it,” I tease, blowing out a tired breath.

“You’re still hung up on Mr. Dick?”

“Nope. He came back today. Walked into the office at half past four and tried to apologize.”

“No shit!”

“No shit.”

“How’d that go?”

“As well as can be expected since I kept my cool and pretended it never happened. I did just what you told me to do. I was calm and professional, and I kept things centered on work.”

“Good girl,” she says, leaning over to give me a high five.

It’s not easy with the roof to traverse and the fact that Fran’s hand doesn’t even reach half way but I make it because I need that high five. And she’d kill me in my sleep if I left her hanging. Savage.

“Did his head blow off?”

“No. I think he was confused.” I laugh, looking to my right when Marge Homes comes out on her porch and waves.

I wave back and scowl when Franny hisses. They hate each other since Marge yelled at Fran not to sunbathe in the front yard and traumatize her kids. Fran’s rebuttal was that she was educating the youth about the fake climate change scandal and that sunblock is a consumer gimmick to leach us of our money.

I’ll be reminding her ass of that when she’s got skin cancer and losing hair in chunks.

“I’ll just bet he was! No more Mia do this! Mia do that! Mia buy the latest pox riddled whore some panties, she left hers in my bed.” She giggles.

I gag and curl my lips, despising the truth of it all even if I, like Fran, plan to consult a voodoo priestess to give him limp dick.

“Nope. I just breezed right over his ‘apology’ and kept talking business. You’d have been proud of me. I didn’t think I had it in me,” I admit, opening the door when she presses to unlock them.

“Me, either. But I still bet on you. Jam wagered twenty that you’d crack when you saw him.”

“You told her about me and Lucas?” I yell, dropping my face into my hands.

“Well, yeah. Relax, she hates all men and offered to pull a Bobbit on him if you wanted.”

“She doesn’t like men?”

“Well, I mean she likes men as human beings I guess but she’s got some serious feminist views going ever since that boyfriend of hers ass screwed her best friend in their bed.”

“Ouch,” I mutter, sympathizing even if that’s not exactly what happened to me.

Though no doubt I’d have had one hell of a show if I’d gone to Lucas’s room at any point that night. Sonofabitch.

“Yeah, man. Don’t worry, he lost his hard on when she bust him over the head with the lamp and I do not even wanna know how that slut got his junk outta her butt after that. It must have hurt like crazy.”

“That’s gross, Fran.”

“I know! I told Jam that if her guy was into that she was better off without him. Ew.”

I second that and watch the road while she drives, regaling me with stories about Neil who apparently is not doing so well after his mother found man on man porn in his sock drawer.

I don’t know how Fran got into their house but it still makes me laugh to think that a lawyer breaks the law with such disregard.

“So, tonight is just super calm, no stress. Just a few friends to lighten the mood and keep us company.”

Oh my God.

“Please tell me this isn’t a party.”

Fran colors guiltily and grins, her elfin face devilish and ultra-innocent despite the blush.

“It’s not a party. I just invited a few friends over and maybe one hot guy who is waiting to meet you.”

Slapping my forehead, I groan and shoot her a deadly glare.

“I told you I don’t-”

“Wanna move on? Forget that you gave your v card to a total dick who doesn’t love you?”

“Thanks, I needed that. And how did you know?” I mutter.

“Yeah, you did. Look, Mia, I hate to break this to you but you’ve got jilted lover written all over you, no matter how hard you try not to show it. It’s sad and while I get that it’s not easy moving on from a six-year love saga that more than likely ended with the asshole breaking your heart, you have to move on. It isn’t healthy holing up in that apartment of yours while working yourself to death to forget. You need to get back up on that damn bike.”

I curse at her beneath my breath and shudder when she pulls up outside her condo, the place already blaring music with people walking in carrying food and booze.

“I know. I’m seeing Bronson remember?”

“Bronson schmonson! That guy is friend material and you and I both know it. You need to have sex Mia, break away from the chains of unrequited love and forge ahead. I may not believe in all that romantic love bullcrap you do but even I have to say that you’ll never find it waiting for some schmuck to be worth your while. He isn’t going to be unless he wants to and from where I’m standing, he doesn’t want to change. So it’s up to you.”

Dammit, I am really not in the mood for this right now but as I look out and see people laughing and talking, the music coloring the night, I know that she’s right. I need to get up and get going or the ponies are gonna run without me.

“Fine, but I’m not drinking. I need my wits about me if I’m working with Fabrizio tomorrow.”

“Deal.”