Final Call (The Call #2) (4 page)

He kisses me deeply,
completely dominating my mouth, possessing me until I’m consumed by
him, and for a long moment, I forget why this shouldn’t be
happening.

Until he pulls back,
his nose resting alongside mine, and I remember again.

I take a deep breath,
meeting his eyes as the reality of what just happened settles into
a heavy ball in my chest. “You have five seconds to get your ass
out of here before I go crazy at you.”

He smirks, igniting a
new kind of fury inside me. “Remember that the next time you think
what you do is none of my business.” My cheeks feel cold when he
drops his hands, and he walks backward, his eyes fixated on me.
“Good evening, Dayton.”

He climbs into a
waiting black car. I watch, frozen to the spot, as it pulls away.
My hand trembles as I turn the key and scramble inside my house. I
slam the door shut and lock it—like a few bolts and a chain can
keep him away from me.

I need the barrier. I
need a ten-foot-high wall.

I lean against the
door, my heart thumping and my chest heaving, and slide down to the
floor. I can feel the ghost of his lips on mine. I can taste him on
my tongue, rich and woody, and the warmth of his body is still
threading through mine.

My anger dissipates
before I have time to process it. It’s replaced by that hollow,
empty hole I thought I’d filled, and tears fill my eyes. I look up
at the ceiling as the tears spill over and drip down my cheeks.

Fuck.

***

I run my fingers
through my wet hair, my eyes closed. The water beats down on my
face in a futile attempt to wash any traces of Aaron Stone from me.
If it were that easy, I would have done it a long time ago, but
he’s seared into my skin. He’s burned in, like I’m branded by
him.

My lips still feel
swollen from his forceful kiss, and there’s a light red rash on my
chin from the stubble that covers his jaw.

I feel like I’ve
spiraled back to where I was when I left Paris. Like I’m back in
the dark pit of heartbreak and longing and disbelief. I still want
him. I crave his touch whenever I’m alone, and I crave the sound of
his voice through the silence.

I want him to fight so
I can say no. So I can beat him back and so he can feel even an
ounce of the pain I feel whenever his name is mentioned. Whenever I
think it. Whenever he turns up in front of me like a little fucking
surprise and drives me to insanity.

It doesn’t matter that
it’s been more than twenty-four hours since I found him outside my
house. It doesn’t matter that I should be working right now but I
can’t because of him.

What matters is that I
can still feel him all over me.

I can still feel his
breath and his fingers wrapping around mine and everything. I can
feel everything.

I step out of the
shower and dry off, throwing on some sweatpants and an old tank
before heading downstairs. The doorbell goes off as I open the
fridge, and I leave it open as I answer the door.

“Hello?”

“Miss Black?” A young
girl peers at me over a bunch of flowers.

“Uh…” I look at the
extravagant bouquet and back to her. “That’s me.”

“Delivery for you.”

“Who from?”

She shoves the bouquet
at me and shrugs. “Doesn’t say. Have a good day!”

I frown and back into
the house, kicking the door shut. I don’t need to ask who they’re
from. I know.

I set them down on the
island in my kitchen and carefully look through the lilies and
roses and blossoms and god knows what fucking else until I find a
card.

Tu me manques,
Dayton.

“You are missing from
me,” I whisper, rubbing my thumb over the scrawled words, and close
my eyes.

He said them a thousand
times to me when we were in Paris—the first time. Whenever we
weren’t together, he’d text me or get the concierge to pass a
message on, and it was always the same. I didn’t know what it meant
until I finally plucked up the courage to ask him.

“The French don’t say
‘I miss you,’” he whispered. “They say, ‘You are missing from me.’
And that’s true. Whenever we’re apart, I feel half complete. That’s
why I tell you, ‘Tu me manques.’”

That was the moment I
fell entirely in love with him. Whatever part of me was holding
back, that was the moment I really, truly lost my heart to him.

I felt the same.
Whenever we weren’t together, I was convinced I was missing a part
of myself. Whenever we were together, I felt whole.

Exactly the way I feel
now.

I grab my cell, snap a
photo, and send it to Liv. My cell rings almost immediately, and I
balance it between my ear and shoulder as I pour some juice.

“Holy shit!” she
exclaims. “Is that from Aaron?”

“Yep. Just got
delivered.”

“He can break my heart
any day. They’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Yes, heartbreak is a
real hoot,” I reply dryly.

“Shit. Sorry. Didn’t
think.”

Obviously, Liv.

“What are you going to
do?”

“With the flowers? Fill
my sink with water and put them in it until I find a vase large
enough for them.”

Her sigh is heavy and a
little pained. “Not about the flowers, asshole. About the guy.”

“Pretty sure everything
I’m considering would be considered illegal.”

“We’re thinking
different illegals here, aren’t we?”

“Probably.” No doubt
she’s thinking of sexy things. I’m thinking of not-so-sexy
things—unless you’re into dead bodies. “But what the fuck, Liv?
Flowers? Who sends flowers?”

“Guys who haven’t
forgotten how to romance a girl.”

“I’d rather be romanced
in the bedroom, if I’m honest.” I nudge the fridge door closed and
stare at the flowers. “They are pretty though.”

“Pretty? They’re
freakin’ gorgeous! Seriously, are you letting him grovel?”

“There’s nothing to
grovel for.”

“Okay. Not having this
conversation. Call me when your head is screwed on properly. I love
you. Goodbye.”

My jaw drops and I
stare at the phone.

The bitch just hung up
on me.

Chapter
Four

“Ms. Lopez, you’ll be
dining in one of the private rooms upstairs. Please follow me.” The
host leads me up a short flight of stairs and toward a white door
with gentle gold embellishments. “Someone will be along for your
order shortly. Your drink is waiting for you.”

“Thank you.” I wait
until he disappears before opening the door. The room is
empty—which means my client is late. Fantastic. Just what I
need.

I pour a glass of wine
from the bottle on the table and set my purse by my feet.

“Dayton.”

I freeze. “Please tell
me this is a bad coincidence and not something you organized.”

Aaron says nothing as
he takes the seat opposite me. “We need to talk.”

“We’ve spoken plenty
over the last few days, don’t you think?”

“Not nearly enough.” He
fixes me with a hard stare. “Sit down, Dayton. You’re not going
anywhere.”

“Really?”

“The door is locked
from the outside.” His lips quirk. “And on my orders, it won’t be
unlocked until one hour from now.”

“Let me guess. Your
uncle owns this restaurant, and that’s why you’re playing
caveman.”

“I could walk into any
restaurant in Seattle and have a private room booked quicker than
it takes you to blink.” He looks up at me, and I feel the truth in
his words. “Now, you can stand while we talk or you can sit. I
really don’t mind, but we’re most definitely talking. You’re not
leaving this room until I’m finished.”

“I think I’ve made it
perfectly clear I don’t want to talk to you.”

“And I’ve made it
perfectly clear you’re going to, and we both know who is going to
get their way. You’d be much more comfortable sitting down, I’d
imagine.”

I sit back down and
take a deep breath. “This is underhanded, you realize that?”

He shrugs one shoulder,
leaning back casually on his chair. “I’m not above playing dirty to
get you back. I’m not above anything to get you.”

I take a long sip from
my glass. “What are you doing in Seattle?”

“That’s the middle of
the story.”

“Fine. Why don’t you
start from the beginning? I’m always good for a fairytale.”

He chuckles lowly, and
I feel it down my spine.
Fuck you, body. Fuck you.

“When you left, after…”
He pauses.

“After I discovered
you’d been lying to me for weeks.”

“Ah, it wasn’t really
lying.”

“It was a lie of
omission, and that’s still a lie.” I hold his gaze for a few beats.
“But we’re not discussing your idiocy, so please continue.”

“When you left, I
confronted Naomi, and eventually she admitted she organized the
party deliberately. She was trying to make my life difficult for
me, and she’s succeeded.” He runs his finger around the rim of his
glass. “I spent the next few days in Paris doing business and
headed back to New York. A divorce agreement was already drawn
up—my final offer—and if she didn’t sign it, we’d go to court and
she’d get a hell of a lot less. She agreed. Dad flew her into the
city and we signed the papers.”

“Congratulations,” I
repeat my halfhearted sentiment from the other night.

“And then I fired
her.”

“Excuse me?”

Aaron smirks and
loosens his tie. “Our lawyer, Mr. Carlisle Sr., pulled out the
documents and I took over the company. Then I fired her. She no
longer has a place at Stone Advertising or modeling.”

“Making your mark
quickly, aren’t you? Starting off as ruthless as you intend to
carry on?”

He rests his elbows on
the table and leans forward. “She fucked with you, Dayton. I don’t
take kindly to people fucking with the most important person in my
life.”

“Are you firing
yourself then? Because you fucked with me pretty damn good
too.”

His eyes darken. “I
don’t need to. My punishment is my own personal pain in knowing I
hurt you. Not to mention the way your eyes haunt me. I can’t close
my eyes without seeing your face as you found out about her.”

“Good.” I grab my glass
tightly. “I hope it hurts like a bitch.”

“Worse,” he says
honestly. “Being without you is like my soul has been shredded in
the most brutal way. There isn’t a second where I’m not thinking of
you and the way you feel in my arms or the way you taste when your
lips are against mine. Being without you is the worst kind of
torture, and I brought it on entirely by myself.”

I swallow. I know, I
want to say. I know because I feel that and more.

“So why are you here?
In Seattle? Other than to harass me, of course.”

“I control the Seattle
branch now. The person in charge here before me was all too happy
to relocate to New York.”

“Happy to relocate? I’m
sure he was.”

“I may or may not have
convinced him a false happiness was better than no job.”

I shake my head.
“You’re a bastard in and out of the boardroom.”

His lips quirk to the
side. “I prefer powerful or influential, personally.”

“I’ll stick with
bastard, thanks.” I meet his eyes. “You should have stayed in New
York, Aaron. It would have been better for us both. You should have
stayed just like you did the first time around.”

“And the first time
around, I made a colossal mistake. I fucked up. I should have come
running after you and never let you out of my sight, but I was too
weak to do that. I didn’t realize you were the best thing I would
ever have in my life. Now I know differently. Now I know that
nothing or nobody will ever compare to you, and I’m not giving you
up again.”

“It’s not a choice,
Aaron.”

“I’m not giving you up.
Hear that, listen to it, understand it, and accept it.” His eyes
are focused, his voice edged with a rawness that hits me hard. “No
matter what you convince yourself, Dayton, you’re mine. Your heart
and your body belong to me. You know it as well as I do.”

“I’m not convincing
myself of anything. Only what I know to be true.”

He stands now, leaning
closer to me—so close I can feel his breath across my lips as his
eyes search mine. “Then start convincing yourself of how entirely
you belong to me and the fact it isn’t changing anytime soon.”

***

The cab pulls up
outside Monique’s house, and I slam the door behind me. Anger is
circulating crazily in my body, so much so I can barely think. Yet
again, she knew. She knew he was there and she made me go.

I see red as I storm up
to her house and shove her door open.

“Monique! Monique! Get
your ass here now!”

Her husband, Ross,
appears in the living room. “Dayton? Are you okay?”

“Where the hell is she,
Ross?”

“She’s upstairs. Hang
on.” He eyes me curiously as he passes me, and I take a deep
breath. My fists are clenched at my sides, and footsteps on the
stairs alert me to her presence.

“Dayton. What a
surprise.”

“Surprise? I’ll give
you a fucking surprise, Monique!” I follow her into the kitchen.
“What the fuck? Are you trying to drive me insane?”

“You’ll have to explain
yourself.” She pours herself a cup of coffee. “I’m not
following.”

“Of course you’re not
following the fact you just sent me to lunch with my
ex-fucking-boyfriend boyfriend who broke my heart for a second time
just two weeks ago!”

“Ah.”

“Ah. Ah. Fucking ah!
What the fuck, Mon? You knew! You knew he was there and you sent me
anyway!”

“I know.”

“Why? Why the hell did
you let me go?”

She turns, her coffee
clasped to her chest. Her ice-blue eyes are warmer than I’ve ever
seen them. “You told me you wouldn’t fall in love.”

I desperately rake my
fingers through my hair and spin on the spot. “I loved him, Mon. Do
you get that? Once upon a time, I loved that man so fucking
desperately that my life wasn’t worth living without him. I loved
him so damn fiercely that he was the center of my universe, but I
moved on. I stepped into this world after my parents died, into
this world where love isn’t allowed. I forgot what it felt like,
what love and adoration were, what it was to be addicted to the
touch of another person. Until I saw him again. Until he took me on
a fucking worldwide trip
you
allowed to happen, one you
shouldn’t have allowed. And now… Now I know a secret everyone knew
but me, and I’ve had my heart shredded into a million inscrutable,
unfixable pieces because of it. Because of him. And you let me go.
You let me go!”