MILO WALLACE

 

Days melted together and became one: Saturday leaked into Sunday and Monday morning rolled around so fast we barely had time to change the sheets. By the time the sun rose on the suckiest day of the week, his top drawer was empty.

Actually, the drawer was empty by Saturday and my lazy lover agreed we didn’t need to send Harry to the drugstore. Maybe he’s right, maybe I’m right, but I’m happy to let nature take its course—let’s see if miracles really do happen.

We spent most of the weekend in bed. Huddled together in the wet sheets—wet from sweat and sex and sex-sweat—for hours on end. Carter slinked away to his office when he thought I’d drifted off, and I used those spare few minutes to gossip with Luci through texts.

Carter is so understanding. No pressure or guilt. No baby-talk or puppy-dog eyes to get what he wants.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I reach for my phone and sigh when I notice the time. He’ll be off to work soon, and my shift starts when his day ends.

We talked when we weren’t kissing or licking or fucking. He told me about his family: his loveable but not-fit-to-lead half-brother Toby, his gold-digger-marrying father, and his late mother; she was the artist in the family.

The best thing about Carter—besides the muscles and the clothes and those blue eyes—is that he really listens. Like, really fucking listens. Danny would um-hum and aha and play with his computer through most of our conversations. Carter looks at me—not towards me—and he takes in my words.

He smiled when I told him about my dad and how he thinks I sound so different after just a few months. He laughed when I told him about Luci and the things he did to cheer me up after I moved in (we agree that he’s the third coolest person in town).

But he went cold when I told him about my run-in with the creep from the bar.

‘I’ll take care of it,’ He said.

I believe him.

My eyes moved from my phone to the door when I heard it creak open. Carter stood there, wearing the same suit he wore the first night he showed up at the bar: a deep-navy cotton three-piece, a pearl-white shirt, and a bulky black tie.

“Hope you’re not going to be too late,” I said, as dropped my phone into my floral-print tote-bag.

“Not as late as you,” He said as he pulled at his collar.

“My shift doesn’t start for like eight hours.”

“You don’t work there anymore.”

“What? Did someone say something? Did Travis fire me?”

“No, but I’ve hired you.”

My head spun, and my eyes darted around the room. There was no talk of a new job all weekend. But I did share my ambitions with him. And he is a good listener.

“But I didn’t even apply or interview or anything.”

“Sure you did,” He said with a mischievous smirk, “So get dressed. The car’s outside. You don’t want to be late on your first day.”

I don’t need handouts, and I thought he was above childish games. Thoughts and suspicions fluttered around in my mind.

Was this weekend real? Did he only listen so that he could find a chink in my armor? Is he still just looking for an incubator and holding out for a miracle?

“You can’t bribe me with…”

He held up a hand, and I stopped speaking.

“It’s not a bribe, it’s an opportunity. You’d already be working for a company like mine if it wasn’t for the asshole ex-boyfriend. And, as much as I’d love to have you directly under me, we won’t even be working in the same department.”

Excitement boiled in my belly. I tossed the sheets away, reached for my tote-bag, and rushed towards the bathroom.

“Okay, I guess we can give it a try,” I could barely hide my excitement, “my shift doesn’t start for like another eight hours anyway.”

Carter nodded.

“Do we have time to swing by my place so I can get changed?” I asked, “I can’t wear anything of yours, you’re way too big.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.”

***

Carter had a brand new suit waiting on the bed for me as I exited the shower.. He smiled as he watched me get dressed.

The limo ride was almost silent and fraught with sexual tension. Hell, it got so hot the windows steamed. His large hand dragged along the Italian cotton of the newest and most expensive member of my wardrobe.

We arrived together but entered the building separately. It was my idea, and he agreed. Bennett International, my new place of work, was a family tree built with concrete and steel. Cousins, aunts, uncles, alphas, betas, omegas.

Everyone he’s ever loved has worked there at some point; except for his mom, apparently.

The guys and gals at work were sweet and welcoming—not Luci-sweet, but kind enough for me to wonder if they knew how I interviewed for the position.

We talked and smiled and shared a little gossip, and I only lied when they asked about my weekend. My cheeks flamed when the guys and gals—my new colleagues—spoke of the Bennett brothers but my jealousy evaporated when I realized they had no intimate knowledge of the two.

Time slows when you’re working the tables at a bar, but my first day went by so fast I almost missed it, and I only realized it was time to go home when I noticed Margot—my office neighbor—was putting on her coat.

Panic hit: Where do I go? What do I do?

We entered the building together, and I insisted that we don’t interact; not on the first day. Once everyone was gone, I reached for my jacket and rushed for the elevator.

It was just me and some soft jazz. I was just about to press the button for the lobby when I thought of the two men that sent me back into Carter Bennett’s arms.

“What if they’re outside? What if Danny followed me again?”

After all, he traveled across the country, and he was able to find my apartment. And that red-haired goon didn’t seem the give-up-easy type.

My knees weakened, and my finger trembled.

I need Carter.

***

The view from the top was spectacular, and it felt good to be in the sky, far from those two cockroaches at street level. My eyes were focused on the thick glass but the secretary (wo)manning the phones had my attention.

Her graying hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her makeup-less face was battle worn and wrinkled. She moved with time-to-go-home weariness and spoke with a tired voice.

He’s busy, can I take a message?

He’s busy, can I take a message?

She parroted the line whenever the phone rang. After what felt like an hour but was probably five minutes, she peeled from her seat and sauntered towards the bathroom.

When we were in bed, Carter told me that he didn’t do Monday’s. He spends the day with his face pressed against his desk; getting the sleep he missed out on during the weekend.

I knocked gently on his door, but there was no answer. Just as I was about to try again, I heard the faint sound of a flushing toilet.

Startled, I pushed open the door and jumped inside to find Carter and a stranger. He was tall and thin with salt and pepper hair and beard-scruffy cheeks. The man wore a dirt-brown suit and cheap-looking loafers that betrayed the expensive gold watch on his wrist.

“Ah, Mr. Wallace,” The stranger said as he motioned for me to close the door, “you’ve saved me making a second stop.”