I had always considered myself an even-tempered person. I wasn’t one for drama, didn’t enjoy attention or had any need to be the focus in anyone’s life. I plodded along; worked different jobs to make ends meet and wasn’t one to have many aspirations. With no disrespect to Mom, I’d watch her do the same thing almost every day and there was nothing wrong with that in my opinion.
Occasionally, someone in town had a bright idea to start a business, move away and the next minute—they’re front page on the local newspaper as our newest successful export.
LA was completely different. People were itching to climb the ladder of success and after spending some time here, I had somewhat caught the success bug.
Even with Wesley around, I still managed to work hard and make sure I was going above and beyond what Emerson needed. It was a juggling act at best. Wesley demanded attention. In his presence—it was all about him.
Wesley left the apartment at the crack of dawn, telling me he wanted to hit the gym before heading to work. He kissed me goodbye, attempted a last-minute quickie in which he won. Then poof—he was gone.
We didn’t get to talk much last night since most of the night was all about Flynn.
I was certain they formed a bro-mance. I even overheard Wesley setting up some gig that Flynn could play at this super popular club.
They talked about music, laughed about some show on MTV and despite my invisibility in the room—I was genuinely happy they got along so well. It was one less battle to fight and hopefully, Flynn could break the news to Mom and tell her how much of an awesome boyfriend Wesley is to make it easier on me when I dropped the bomb.
He was awesome…except for when he got into a mood and acted like an overly hormonal teenager with a brooding face. And his obsession with my whereabouts and responding to his messages. Now that I think of it, it was borderline creepy.
But the best-sex-you’ve-ever-had outweighs creepy by a longshot. This is what happens when your boyfriend is insanely sexy and has the stamina of a wild stallion. Your vagina becomes a bossy bitch and boy did she boss me around.
Sitting at the dining table, I drink my coffee and answer some emails to distract myself from thinking about Wesley. I thought about Liam, and Phoebe. Contemplating texting the both of them just to say hello. A part of me missed them terribly, even Liam. And the other part of me told me to let them be—for now. If I wanted a chance to build my life here, I needed to distance myself from them and spend more time with Wesley and Flynn.
And Wesley kept me busy.
I remember how Liam and I would lie down on his bed for hours on end, watching shows or talking about random things. Wesley is the polar opposite. When he was with me—he kept me on my toes. Never a moment to stop and talk. It was unimaginable that something so simple could be so difficult.
The coffee was not helping calm my anxiety. I decided to leave home early and get a start on the day and not remind myself for the hundredth time that Emerson and Wesley were meeting up around lunchtime.
Their meeting would occur downtown. I didn’t ask much because the less I knew, the better. It didn’t stop me thinking about it and it wasn’t like me to be so obsessive over something, or should I say—someone.
“Don’t you just love this fall line that Emerson will wear in New York?” Aurora hands me her iPad. The designs were beautiful, long coats and earthtone colors. “I was also thinking about a line for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you do have this eclectic style, very…what’s the word I’m looking for?” She brings her finger to her lip, tapping while thinking. Her eyes light up the moment it comes to her. “Retro!”
“Um, thanks, I guess.” I smile politely, unsure if she was complimenting me or ridiculing me. “What were you thinking?”
Aurora’s iPad was her life. She carried it around like a priest would carry a bible. It was even covered in a Louis Vuitton case which was specially designed for her.
On the screen are some sketches and designs of dresses, different to what she showed me earlier for Emerson. I really liked what she had planned for me to wear—I just couldn’t afford to splurge on anything right now.
“It’s really nice of you, Aurora. It’s just that, I can’t afford to spend money right now. Part of me working this job is to pay for my mom’s care.”
She laughs, slapping my shoulder gently. “Don’t be silly. It’s part of your package. Didn’t Emerson tell you that?”
I shake my head, distracted by my cell ringing. “Speak of the devil…”
“Milana!” Emerson’s high-pitched voice barrels through the speaker, forcing me to distance my cell till the echoing stopped. “I need your help!”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, worried.
“Yes, no. I don’t know. Can you meet me in the office in twenty minutes?”
“Of course. I’m only a few blocks away.”
Emerson says goodbye, giving me no inkling as to what was happening. When Aurora asks what’s going on, I shrug, unsure of why Emerson sounded panicked. We part ways, Aurora heading to a fabric meeting and me to the office.
It took me only ten minutes to get there, and thankfully I didn’t trip during my sprint to get to the office on time. I’m wearing my black pumps, the pointy ones that went with every outfit but were not designed for running, along with my A-line charcoal dress, coupled with a black patent belt. The dress—also not designed for running—bunches up around my waist which I fix in the elevator.
My hair was braided back and away from my face. I thought long and hard about cutting it since the heat and long hair did not mix, wondering what Mom would think. It had always been her thing, and I’m not sure why it never bothered me so much until now.
Jana—Emerson’s receptionist—tells me to head to the boardroom where Charlie is sitting, laptop in front and a stack of papers. She lifts her head to greet me, brushing her hair away from her face in annoyance.
“Hi Milana. Glad you’re here early. We’ve got a lot to work on.”
“Emerson told me to come straight away, but I have no clue what is—”
Behind me, the sound of feet tap against the tiles. Charlie looks up, smiles quickly, though forced, and then stands, extending her hand. The hand reaches past me; manly, slight hair on the knuckles and fingers that have traced all over my body…
Breathe.
Repeat.
Shit.
“Charlie, always a pleasure.”
Charlie ignores his comment, gesturing to me. “Milana, have you met Wesley, Emerson’s business partner? Oh wait a minute, you mentioned that you had.”
I stand up, only having just sat down, and take the deepest of breaths as if I was preparing to sing at the opera, and finally—turn around.
His eyes are dancing sinfully; the small smile that plays on his lips intending to make me quiver beneath my dress. The crisp white business shirt that sat beneath his navy suit is unbuttoned more so than usual, exposing his tanned chest. I could eat him whole. Stop, you need to act professional here.
I extend my hand while keeping my eye contact simple. “Yes, we have met. Pleased to meet you again, Mr. Rich.”
There is amusement in his eyes as I called him Mr. Rich, and I nervously pull my sweaty palm away and sit back down. Wesley walks around the table, positioning himself in front of me, placing his cell down.
My notebook, sitting on the table, becomes my focus. I find myself doodling on the page knowing that he is watching me, then quickly write down some words to ‘pretend’ that the way he is staring at me is not affecting me whatsoever.
“I’m here…I’m here.” Emerson runs through the door, closing it behind her. She takes a moment to catch her breath, saying hello to everyone. As she sits down, I examine her nice blouse. It’s off-the-shoulder; a style she always pulled off very nicely. Emerson had really nice shoulders, if that was such a thing. Tanned—though she admitted it was spray—and extremely fit. The shade of light blue suited her light-colored hair that was left out today. Sometimes, the shade looked blond, and other times, like now, it looked silver.
Nevertheless, Emerson is very attractive and her sitting beside me had me questioning my confidence especially when she was Wesley’s ex-fiancée. I mean, he wanted to marry her. That had to count for something and they had this whole life planned out together.
“Okay Charlie, give us the lowdown, please.”
“Right, okay, so there’s a company in Greece, a rather large corporation selling counterfeit designs of your latest line.”
“But how? We bought the patent rights to that dry-fit fabric?” Emerson questions, annoyed. “It would be illegal to reproduce or for our manufacturer to be supplying this to anyone else.”
“We paid top dollar for these rights. Who are these people?” Wesley intercepts. “What kind of loss are we talking?”
Charlie frowns, pushing a paper towards Wesley and Emerson. “I’m afraid we’re talking around two million.”
“Two million dollars!” Wesley yells, agitated. “How the fuck was this not picked up earlier?”
Emerson buries her head in her hands. “The finance department was reporting losses. We just narrowed it down to slow markets in Europe and with all the political changes being their focus.”
“You were reporting losses but didn’t tell me?” Wesley fires back, clenching his fist that sits on the table, ready to pounce at any moment. The veins in his neck stood out; a trait I noticed each time he reacted this way in my presence.
“Oh please,” Emerson argues with a ridiculed laugh. “You didn’t care what went on. Why the sudden interest in holding onto this venture? When we were together, you didn’t give a goddamn shit what I did. If it made you look good, that’s all you cared about.”
“And if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be this successful. This brand took off because our name was worth something. You were the one that decided to end that.”
“Because you were a cheating scumbag!” Emerson shouts back, much to my shock.
“Really?” Wesley deadpans. “So how is Carrington? I hear the Brazilian ladies are loving him being in Brazil without you.”
Emerson’s skin turns bright red; her lips stark white. Charlie shrugs at me, half-heartedly, before putting a stop to this madness.
“We’re not here to discuss your past or any personal matters. So please, for the sake of me and Milana, let’s not get into it. Now, here’s what we need to do next.”
It was clear the magnitude of the problem kept Charlie up all night. She handed Emerson and Wesley some legal documents, explaining to them her discussions with a close lawyer acquaintance in Europe and some laws that could potentially protect the perpetrators.
The legal talk went on for two hours. Refreshments were brought in—the coffee my savior—and I tried my best to note as much as I could with Emerson talking fast and arguing back-and-forth with Wesley.
It was difficult to focus on anything besides the animosity between these two ex-lovers. And I wondered: am I wearing the same rose-colored glasses that Emerson once wore? If things don’t work out between me and Wesley, would I resent and hate him as much as she does?
Doubt filled my over-thinking mind. I tried my best to concentrate on the real issue here but every now and then, I found myself watching the two of them and questioning everything about why we were together.
How could he possibly be with me when he’s had her?
“Milana, did you jot that down?”
Emerson breaks my dysfunctional trance, thankfully, and brings me back to the reason why we were all here.
This lawsuit meant that I would be working non-stop, retrieving necessary documents for the court case, working with Emerson on fast tracking the new line and making sure that her schedule was freed up to focus only on this.
Charlie made it clear that Wesley and Emerson needed to unite to build the brand and make it stronger. Sonia—the wicked publicist from the west—was placed on conference call and listed all the events that she wanted the two of them to attend.
“No,” Emerson states, quick to shut her down. “I don’t see why we need to attend together.”
“Emerson, sweetheart, this brand needs to show a united front. Now is not the time for Wesley to be a silent partner. Okay, look, maybe the red-carpet stuff can be just you. But if I can get a slot to the business convention we discussed a few weeks back, the both of you will need to present.”
Lifting my eyes, trying not to draw attention to my gaze, my attention wanders from Charlie to Wesley. In front of him sat an empty coffee cup, and his cell. I only notice now that it begins to light up; text after text popping up on his screen. He glances down, scanning the message before raising his eyes back up to look at Emerson—not me.
My stare moves quickly back to my notepad, the same time my stomach begins to harden, followed by a wave of nausea. How did I get myself here? So easily became intimate with a man—more than any man—and have no clue who he was?
Despite what I read online about him, those texts could easily be from women that he saw on the side. It’s not a far-fetched thought; women threw themselves at him. What about that Farrah Beaumont. Am I that stupid to have jumped into a relationship with a man so quickly?
“Let’s reschedule New York for next week. Perfect, I guess, since Logan is in town and can take care of Lola.”
“Next week?” I ask, forgetting for a moment that Wesley sat across me.
“Yes, sorry, is that okay?” Emerson asks.
“Of course.” I smile, purposely meeting his gaze.
Wesley taps his fingertips on the table, leaning back in his chair rather annoyed.
“Thank God.” Emerson smiles with relief. “Vancouver we can bring forward to the following Saturday. Actually, why don’t we go straight from New York? Let’s get it out of the way. I’ll have Logan meet us there.”
“Sounds like a plan…”
“Shoot!” she exclaims, worried. “There’s that meeting in Portland, the following week.”
“Don’t worry, I can go. It might work out well, I planned to head back home for two days anyway so I might swing it afterwards if you don’t mind? I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery.”
“My God, no. You’re saving my life right now. Go see your family, or boyfriend…what’s his name again?”
I cough, almost choking at her bringing Liam up. “Uh…Liam.”
“That’s right.” Charlie smiles, rather cheekily. “How could we forget?”
Wesley slams his fist on the table, eyes blazing right at me. “Are we done discussing Milana’s personal life? I also have better things to do.”
“Like what?” I bite back, folding my arms.
My forwardness throws him a curveball, his expression turning from anger to annoyance in the matter of seconds. This game we play, it’s deadly. We’re both driven by jealously and its ugly traits. It’s almost murderous.
“My personal life, Miss Milenov, remains no one’s business but my own.”
The room goes dead silent. I wanted to tell him we’re done, that I cannot continue second guessing myself and this relationship. That my heart continued to ache from missing my mom and home. The guilt of hurting Phoebe and Liam lay heavy on my shoulders.
And most importantly—I would never be Emerson.
“I have to go get Lola. We’re done.” Emerson stacks her papers, standing up and waiting for Wesley to respond.
“As done as we can be,” Wesley scoffs.
Charlie rolls her eyes at them, following Emerson’s lead and saying goodbye, leaving me alone with Wesley.
The wrath of Wesley Rich would come undone—I could smell it in the air. His stare is cold; eyes wide without a blink.
“You’re quiet.”
“I have to go…I have a lot to do.”
I stand up, gathering my things when Wesley commands I sit.
“What’s wrong? You didn’t want me and Emerson to meet alone so I thought you would be happy. More time for you to talk with the girls about your boyfriend back home,” he snaps, insulting me.
This wasn’t the place to have another argument. My head is pounding and on the verge of a migraine with the work that stemmed from that meeting. Not to mention the emotional game of tennis that we watched being played between Wesley and Emerson.
I really wanted to be alone, and call Mom. Speak to her, ease my stress, if only for a few minutes.
“I was put on the spot. I need to go, Wesley.”
“You think I’m stupid?”
“What? No…”
His laugh is filled with sarcasm. His rocking back-and-forth on the chair starting to irritate me.
“So why don’t I believe your excuse? I don’t have time for games, Milana. Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”
It’s my turn to laugh, this time unable to hide my annoyance. “Tell you what you did wrong so you can fix it? Maybe you didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe the problem is me. I said yes to being your girlfriend and have no clue who you are aside from what I’ve read online.” I take a breath, then unleash. “I mean, did you have anything to do with the drowning? What about the old man you hit? Where is he and why didn’t you serve more time? And that Farrah girl…did you hit her? Who was that the other night that wanted you to fuck her up the ass? God Wesley…questions and it’s not me to be like this but I can’t fucking concentrate when I’m around you and then your cell goes off and it’s probably girls wanting a booty call… God knows what you do when I’m not around.”
I take deep breaths, mid-panic attack. My chest incredibly tight and unforgiving.
“Shhh…calm down, okay?” He lowers his tone, peeping outside the glass to see if anyone is walking by. “I can answer all your questions, just not here. If that’s your bottom line, if you really want to know everything about who is sleeping in your bed at night—I will answer your questions.”
“You will?” I ask, maybe too eagerly though relieved.
“Yes,” he responds, though quick to add, “because then I can ask you questions.”
“Me?”
“I’m not the only mystery, Milana. The only difference is that when I Google Milana Milenov—I get a picture of a girl graduating Anchorage Business School and that’s it.”
I smile, finding him kinda cute now that he Googled me. I finally manage to look him in the eye and allow my body to feel him over me. It’s powerful—this force—everything I felt before this a distance memory.
“Dinner, my place at seven sharp,” he demands with a smirk.
“Deal…but I have a ton of work to do so I can’t stay over.”
“No deal. You’re staying over. If you have to go to New York next week, I want you every moment I can have you.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Rich.”
He grins, playing with his jaw in a sexy way. “About that, call me Mr. Rich one more time and I’ll bend you over right here, right now and fuck you till you have no choice but to scream Mr. Rich.”
He knew exactly how to get to me.
Wearing a vicious grin on his handsome face, he exits the room leaving me alone to think about his powerful proposition.
He did it—again. Made me go from hating him to wanting him in a deadly heartbeat.
Inside my office, I fire up my laptop and take a deep breath. My mind is an unorganized mess and with everything going on—I needed to get into shape and start prioritizing. I spend the next hour syncing my diary with Emerson’s, making calls and confirming all our travel arrangements. Charlie had already emailed the both of us; a ton of legal documents that made sense, given my experience but nevertheless—this is going to be a long-winded battle.
By the time I peel myself away from my inbox, it’s just after five and the office is surprisingly vacant. Today felt like the longest day of my life and with my laptop shut down and bag packed, I balance everything in my hands to only have my cell scare the shit out of me as it rings.
My heart races, and without thinking—I answer.
“Hey, it’s me.”
Liam. The sound of his voice brought back a whole other world. I place my things back down, worried that I would so carelessly fall apart from the sound of his voice.
“Hey.”
Silence falls between us, and not wanting to play on the obvious, I bring in the small-talk in an effort to repair what I so easily broke.
“How have you been?”
“Good, I guess, considering. I’m dating someone.”
“That’s quick.”
Shit. I shouldn’t have said that, and trying to retrace my stupidity, I tell him, “I don’t mean it’s quick, I mean that you…never mind.”
It suddenly dawns on me that Phoebe told me Liam was seeing that Sienna girl only a day after he got back. I didn’t have the right to even question Liam’s fidelity but his new relationship didn’t add up either.
“I slept with her, while I was still with you. I missed you…not that it matters now. I just needed to tell you that.”
The pain in his voice subsides, almost to relief. There’s a slight pang, a wave of hurt from hearing that. None of it mattered now. The damage is done and the universe played its part. It was not my place to reprimand him when I played the same card he did.
“Wesley’s not good for you.”
“Liam, please.”
“Listen to me. Do you remember the time we watched that program on serial manipulators? They had personality disorders and that dad was jailed for murdering his wife?”
I remember the episode yet didn’t appreciate the link between a murderer and Wesley.
“C’mon Liam. I know he’s done bad things but people change.”
“Milly, listen to me. You’re in danger. Please, just walk away from him. It’s not about pride here. I’m genuinely worried.”
I smile into the receiver, ignoring his desperate pleas. Liam had always protected me, and his worries were nothing of concern. It was Liam being Liam.
“I can take care of myself. Listen, I should go. Keep in touch, okay?”
“Milly…”
“Liam, just don’t. Please don’t,” I beg, softly.
With a heavy sigh, he says goodbye, reluctantly, until the sound of my cell beeps informing me the call has ended. I stare at the screen, for minutes, sad to say goodbye on such terms and wishing he could just let his anger towards Wesley go.
There wasn’t much time to dwell on his words as I make a mad dash for my car, racing home so I could change and head over to Wesley’s.
I couldn’t wait to see him.
Finally, I would get much-needed answers to the questions that would either make, or break, our relationship.