Devotion - Billionaire Contemporary Romance Novel (28 page)

His grasp around her wrist. She looked up at him with a plea in her eyes—
please…
It was a plea for mercy, a plea to accept that things had irrevocably changed, as if the corruption of their professional relationship was a casualty too acute to bear.

The floor chime rang and the elevator doors rolled open to the forty-fifth floor.  She pushed away from him, seeking asylum from his dominance, and waited for another person to enter the elevator.  But there was only breezy emptiness in the hallway.  As the doors rolled back, Phillip pounded the red emergency STOP button, halting the cab with urgency. 

“Come to me tonight,” he insisted.  “One final time.  And if you still feel as if you cannot accept me, accept us—in spite of everything—then I will accept that it was all a mistake—a pitiful, regretful mistake—and I shall let it all go.” He looked at her wet black eyelashes, shutting him out of her mind and soul. 

She shook her head in protest.  “No.  It’s impossible.  I’m taking care of Aidan.  My mother is gone tonight. ”

“Then let me come to you,” he whispered, desperately seeking out her acceptance.

“No—” She shook her head again.  “There is no chance for us, Phillip.”  Finally, she found the strength to peer up at him, impressing the certainty of her rejection.

“You must give this a chance…give us a chance.”

“Phillip…” She exhaled, resentful and exhausted by his smothering persistence. “My life is my family and my work.  The rest was just…” she hesitated before attempting to make the truth known between them—once and for all. “Just a fantasy.”

He searched her eyes, struggling to accept how easily she was willing to dismiss the most personal and vulnerable moments of his life.

“Yes, our nights together may have been a fantasy, but the emotions you stir inside me, the emotions to know you, see you, touch you—every day in every way—are nothing short of real. I assure you.” 

He pushed towards her with a familiarity she could not deny, yearning to kiss her to prove the sincerity behind his pledge; but he stopped short, confirming what they both knew was the truth—he had lost the privilege of her unconditional trust, and now, he was fighting for the right to earn it back.  He brushed her lower lip with his thumb, a painter admiring his muse, and he persuaded her to meet his gaze.  Her Spanish brown eyes, which had filled with compassion and empathy for him so many times before, now welled with suffering. 
Suffering because of him
. 

“Please…let me come to you tonight.” 

The emergency bell rang out with piercing desperation.  She glared at its unidentifiable source, petitioning him to end it—end everything.  He studied her resolution, her determination to deny his every advance.  Finally, he acquiesced, disengaging the emergency stop button and releasing her from his possession—and his life.

She wiped her eyes and smoothed down her shirt and skirt, attempting to regain her composure as the elevator spiraled down, down, down like a diving bell plunging them into the depths of uncharted physical and emotional separation.

Ping
.  Forty-five floors passed by in an instant.

Such a simple sound
, Phillip thought, foretelling her imminent goodbye.

She adjusted the strap of her purse, then pushed forward the moment the elevator doors rolled open, abandoning him without any lingering hope for their future. He watched her glide away across the marble floors of the Beaux Arts lobby and pass through its bronze doors into the bustling energy of the city.  Watercross Tower was only a few blocks north along the river.  She could easily be traveling there now to meet him.  Phillip shut his eyes, pushing the possibility out of his mind; instead, he dwelled on how the softness of her lips still lingered against his fingertips.  He closed his palm to guard its memory. 
No, she hadn’t verbally agreed to see him tonight
.  But the consent of her body fueled his desperate hope that he had not lost her for good.

Chapter Sixteen

Phillip pressed the doorbell and waited, reflecting on how many times he had arrived at her house…
Had it really been all for business?  Or had he used business as his excuse to spend time with her
? 

His mind waited for his subconscious to answer, knowing the truth and expecting a lie.  But he was beyond lying to himself and to her.  Tonight, he only wanted to confess everything that he had avoided admitting for the past five years in order to salvage whatever trust and intimacy remained between them.

The house was silent.  He hesitated, second-guessing his impulse to ring the doorbell again.  Then, fear swept through his heart.  She wasn’t home at all—or worse, she was intentionally choosing to avoid him.

Abruptly, the door whisked open, but it was not Isabel who greeted him.

“Uhhhhh-ahhhhh,” Aidan whined, slumping with disappointment.  “You’re not the delivery man.”

“No,” Phillip replied, eyeing the boy’s honesty and cruelty.  “Do you remember me?  I’m a friend of your mother’s.”

“No, you’re not.  You’re her boss,” Aidan corrected him.  Phillip peered at the boy, noting his knack for precision and honesty. 
Clearly, a genetic gift from his mum
. 

“May I still come in?”

“I guess…” Aidan sighed, turning away and abandoning Phillip in the doorway. 

“And your mother?” Phillip insisted, peering into the house without fully entering it.

“She’s here,” Isabel answered coldly, stopping halfway along the staircase, as if she was reluctantly weighing whether or not to tread all the way down to meet him.  “We were upstairs, brushing teeth.  It’s bedtime, you know.” 

“Yes,” he replied, suddenly absorbing the reality of the situation—it was not the most convenient time or the most convenient place to continue whatever it was he had fantasized about all day.  He noted her yoga pants and T-shirt.  Her hair was tied up in a casual ponytail, and she was barefoot.  He had seen her dressed up like a queen and naked like a mistress, but somehow, none of it mattered because in that moment, the only thing he wanted from her was the simplest thing she could grant him—an invitation to stay.

“Well, perhaps it’s too late then to offer this…” Phillip withdrew a sleek red bag from behind his back and passed it off to Aidan.

“Mommy, hot chocolate!”  He presented it to his mother like a prize.

“Dark truffle chocolate,” Phillip confirmed.  “Your mum’s favorite.”

He fixed his eyes on her, wondering if it would be enough to lure her down the staircase. Phillip had learned early on that it wasn’t tea or coffee that powered Isabel throughout the day—it was several mugs of gourmet hot chocolate, especially during Chicago’s long bitter winters. 

“Aidan, we
just
finished brushing teeth.”

“Pleeeeeeeeease, Mommy.  Pleeeeeeeease.”

Isabel sighed, annoyed and exasperated, as she drifted down the stairs.  “It might be Mommy’s favorite, Phillip, but clearly you’ve never given sugar to a child before bedtime.”

The comment cut into Phillip, more than he was willing to admit.  He paused and guarded his instinct to correct her.  “No, I admit to never having the pleasure.”  He noted the sound of his own voice, wounded and raspy.  When he glanced back up at her, he saw her ice queen persona thawing into an expression of uncertainty.

“Mommmy, pleeeeeease…just one cup.”  Aidan rushed to his mother and tugged on her hand.

“I see he’s already quite the masterful negotiator,” Phillip said.

“Yes…like most of the men in my life.” 

She sat down on the final step and held Aidan’s chin to meet her eyes. “Fine, but only one—one cup,” she insisted. “One.”

“Yes!” Aidan exclaimed, celebrating with an awkward jumping jack and turning to Phillip like a winning teammate.  “Did you hear that?  She said we could have one cup!”

“Sounds lovely.” Phillip smirked, resting his gaze onto Isabel.  He knew that look.  He had seen it a hundred times before whenever they clashed over work issues.  It was the look of begrudging concession.  Whenever they had a disagreement at the office, Phillip rarely lost, not because he was her boss, but because he was more skilled at finding the pressure point that persuaded her to surrender.  Now, they both silently acknowledged how he had scored the loyalty of her son.  But still, he needed her permission to stay. 

“You’ll be forced to clean your own mug,” Isabel said flatly. 

“And put it in the dishwasher,” Aidan chimed in, reiterating a rule that he had clearly been reminded of a thousand times before.  “Mommy hates it when we leave dirty dishes on the countertop.”

“No dirty dishes.” Phillip nodded with quiet gratitude.

She gazed at him with resistance.  Her eyes conveyed what he knew she always wanted him to know—
he had won this time; but don’t expect such an easy win the next time
. 

Isabel followed Aidan through the kitchen’s swinging door. 

“And no putting your feet on the table,” Aidan suddenly called back to Phillip.

“Really?” Phillip stopped and feigned shock.  “No putting my feet upon the table?”

“No,” Aidan wagged his finger.  “It’s very bad manners and it makes Mommy very angry.”

“Well, we shan’t make your mother cross, so I shall be sure to keep my feet to myself.  In fact, I’m certain that’s one way I can make her happy…”

Suddenly, the sight of something on the kitchen countertop—something familiar and scarring—jarred him into silence and dashed their camaraderie.

“Even if, perhaps, there are very few other ways…” His voice trailed off as he approached the bouquet of Watercross’ long-stemmed red roses and noted their freshness, perfectly preserved with diligence and care.

He lowered his eyes and retreated within, attempting to quell the bleeding fear that he had made another critical error in judgment.  Perhaps her acceptance of a position with Watercross Capital wasn’t merely a punishment against him for his deception; perhaps it was simply an indication of her own preferences and desires. Perhaps she had already made her choice. 
And her choice was not him
.

“My mother’s been taking care of them,” Isabel said, observing his sudden frown.  “She loves flowers, and we rarely have them here at the house, so she’s been committed to changing their water twice a day.”

“Of course,” he said slowly, taking in the number of place settings that Isabel had set at the kitchen table. 
Three
.

“Here, let me hang up your coat,” she offered, holding out her hand to him.

He nodded and removed it like a burden, feeling the weight and constraints of his professional identity slipping off him.  Isabel accepted it and disappeared from the kitchen.  He loosened his tie and sat down next to Aidan at the table.

“That’s a vampire’s coat,” Aidan stated with conviction.

“Really, a vampire?  I always thought it was more like the monster in
Frankenstein
.”

Phillip suddenly outstretched his hands, gaped open his mouth, and growled his best monster impression.

Aidan slapped his forehead.  “That is reeeee-diculous.”

“It is,” Phillip whispered to him like a guarded secret as Isabel passed back into the kitchen. 

“Are you boys behaving?” She eyed them, moving to the stove and stirring the milk in the sauce pan.  She turned off the gas and distributed it between the three mugs.

“We were just discussing the best way to catch a tiger in the jungle.” Phillip winked at Aidan.

The boy’s eyes lit up.  “You’ve caught a tiger?”

“Not one.  Three.”

Isabel narrowed her gaze at Phillip, as if she was trying to assess which part of his claim was true.  She served the three mugs onto the placemats and moved the can of hot chocolate into the center of the table.  Aidan lifted to his knees, scooped up a spoonful, and dumped it into his mug. “Did they try to bite you?” he asked Phillip.

“Oh, yes…of course.” He unfastened his cuff link and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt.  He watched as Isabel scanned the searing pink scar along his forearm.  He twisted his wrist, allowing his veins and muscles to bulge through his disfigured skin.  Sometimes, he still felt the phantom burn from the boating accident about which he rarely spoke and he tried hard not to remember. 

“Whoaaaaaa,” Aidan said with amazement, lifting up to his knees for a closer inspection of his injury. “Look at that, Mommy.”

Phillip shifted his glance onto Isabel with a small smile.  For a moment, he wondered if she believed him.  Then, like an overwhelming flashback, he remembered the sensation of her fingers, running curiously over the scar’s jagged imprint during their passionate nights within the darkness.  Their eyes locked. 
She remembered it, too
.

Isabel turned away towards the counter.  Phillip cleared his throat and rolled down his sleeve. 

“Tigers don’t like to be surprised.  You have to lure them in with bait.”

“That sounds a bit unfair to the tiger,” Isabel cut in, tossing the pan into the sink, drowning it with spraying water.

“Yes, perhaps it is.  But tigers are quite independent.  You can’t just expect them to accept your advances from the beginning without some enticement.”

“Maybe the tiger would simply prefer to be asked into the cage.”

“And what if she refused?”

“She most certainly would have… and should have.” Isabel shut off the faucet.

“She sounds like a smart tiger,” Phillip conceded.

“Mommy, can we catch a tiger and keep it as a pet?”

“No, tigers are meant to roam free, not be trapped for a hunter’s selfish gain.” 

Aidan ignored her and turned to Phillip for support. “I think we should catch it with a net and then put it in a cage with a gorilla.”

“The poor gorilla would certainly be the unfortunate one,” Phillip replied.

Aidan shrugged.  “Yeah, but maybe they’d become friends?”

“I’d like to think so.” He sipped from his hot chocolate, admiring the boy’s innocence.  “But I’m fairly certain the tiger wouldn’t have him.”

“Yeah—”Aidan cut in with serious thought and consideration. “I think I’ve changed my mind.  I don’t want a pet gorilla.  Or a pet tiger.  I want an anaconda.”

Isabel shivered.  Phillip remembered how much she hated snakes. 

“Okay, that’s enough scary-forest-creature-talk for one night.  It’s bedtime.” She glanced up at the wall clock, signaling the end of the night and the end of Phillip’s visit.

He peered at her, understanding her impatience. 
She was a mum, and that was her priority now
. 

“Yes.”  He nodded, accepting her dismissal.  He slowly rose from the table, trying not to reveal his disappointment.  It had been a lovely moment of escape from the tension of the day—and the tension between them.

“But we haven’t even had a chance to eat chocolate chip cookies,” Aidan insisted, determined to prolong the night. 

Phillip glanced down on the child, sympathizing with his perseverance.

“Aidan, we are
not
having chocolate chip cookies.”

“Ugggghhhhhh,” Aidan slouched and whined through his nose. “Well, it’s not fair because I can’t go to sleep now.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m too scared.”

“Scared?” Isabel laughed.  “Of what?”

Aidan smiled bashfully, like it was the only answer that came to mind.  “Tigers?”

“Oh, I see…well, that’s a good thing to be scared of because there are no tigers in the house, and certainly none in your bedroom.  Now, let’s go upstairs.”

Isabel ushered him out through the swinging door and back into the living room.

“I have an idea!” Aidan cried out, stalling like a pro. “Mommy, let’s sleep down here tonight.”  Aidan catapulted himself onto the sofa like it was a familiar negotiation.  Phillip noted her laptop on the coffee table.  He suddenly wondered how many nights over the years she had sat at that coffee table, working late into the evening while her son slept nearby on the couch.

“Maybe you can even spend the night, too,” he offered to Phillip. “You can use my Batman sleeping bag.  You know, if you want to?”

“I love Batman,” Phillip replied.

Isabel shot him a stinging glare. 

“Please, Mommy… Can we sleep down here tonight?”

“You—yes.  Phillip—no, absolutely not.  Go get your pillow and blanket.  Quickly.”  She added an edge in her voice that spurred Aidan up the stairs.

Phillip watched the boy scamper up to the landing and disappear into his bedroom.  He peered at Isabel.  She peered back.  Awkward silence fell between them.  He had fifteen, maybe twenty seconds, to express something to alter their destinies; but instead, his voice froze into haunting silence until she was the first to break away from their mutual gaze. 

“I’ll get your coat.”

Phillip swallowed hard, resisting his urge to capture her hand.  But the moment was lost when Aidan reappeared on the top of the landing and called down through the banister.  “Was I fast enough, Mommy?” He shuttled down the stairs with excitement, dragging his blanket behind him.