His Call (5 page)

I woke six times during my jet-lag nap, each time stretching my hand out across the bed to reach for a woman who wasn’t there. Even now, I pull two coffee mugs from the cupboard, and it takes me until after I’ve filled them both to remember why I don’t need the second.

It’s a dull throb, knowing she’s not here. It’s not a crippling, intense pain that comes in waves, peaking every now and then. It’s a constant ache, not enough to stop me from going about my business, but enough that I’m always aware of it. Enough to be a
sucker-punch in the gut here and there.

It hits the most when I think about her. Then, the ache intensifies into a full-body sweep of longing.
Through the longing is the guilt. That is, for me, perhaps the worst part of this situation. Knowing there’s the chance that it could have been avoided, that I could have done something about it if only I’d been brave enough at the start.

It’s the guilt that I not only caused this and hurt myself but hurt her in the process. That’s the biggest portion of it. Seeing that teary sheen to her eyes as they filled with wetness and the subtle quiver of her bottom lip as she held in her emotions haunts me every time I close my eyes. The sound of her voice as she spoke to me accusingly, speaking the way I deserved to be spoken to, echoes in my ears whenever I’m surrounded by silence.

The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt her, and I did it while trying to do the opposite. That fact doesn’t escape me.

I finish the last of my coffee,
tightly closing my eyes as the hot liquid burns my throat, and shrug my jacket on. My car is waiting for me downstairs, and I climb in, flipping through my calendar on my phone.

I meant to see my schedule to see what I have coming up in an attempt to rid my mind from the woman currently possessing it, but instead I’m seeing how soon I can leave New York. How quickly I can return t
o Seattle to set this whole thing straight.

Two
days, realistically. That’s two days too long. I can possibly leave tomorrow, but that’s pushing it. Still, though…

Leaving Dayton in a city on the other side of the country for much longer, without me, is unfathomable. Regardless of how hard I may have to fight to win her back, I can’t fight if I’m not there.

Tomorrow it is.

I stroll into the office and up the elevator without a word to anyone. My pending divorce aside, I’ve been preparing for today for as long as I can remember. Four years of studying
for a business degree, interning here, summer jobs filing—they were all for today, the moment my father signs the business over to me.

It’s insane, and slightly overwhelming, to think that this empire he’s built will belong to me when I walk out of this building.

I rap twice on his office door and step inside. He’s already waiting with my mother, the lawyer, and my cousin, Tyler. Tyler slaps me on the back of my shoulder, but my focus is on the desk and the files sitting in front of Mr. Carlisle.

The phone rings and my father presses the button on the set. “Yes?”

“Ms. Lane is here to see you, sir.”

“Send her in.” He ends the connection and stands, motioning for me to take a seat behind the desk.

My eyebrow quirks at him, but all he does is reinforce the motion. I do as he silently requests and lower myself into the plush leather chair he’s offering.

Naomi enters the room with her usual self-righteousness. She winks at Tyler, and he responds with a disgusted look. She’
s not exactly popular, even with my womanizing cousin.

“Ms. Lane.” Mr. Carlisle greets her and holds out one of the seats opposite the desk. “I trust you’re aware of the purpose of today’s meeting?”

Naomi turns steely eyes on me. “Perfectly aware. Thank you.”

“Then let’s get on with it.” I slide the file forward. “Nothing in it has changed, just the amount, but feel free to read through it so you’re satisfied.”

She takes the file without looking at me and flips through it, sighing when she reaches the page with the amount. She doesn’t contest, just like I knew she wouldn’t, and hands the file back to me after several minutes.

“You win, Aaron. Sign it and pass it back.”

I flip to the marked pages and scrawl my signature on each dictated line, a sense of freedom washing over me as I do. Naomi does the same when I hand it back to her, finality settling over her features.

“Excellent,” I mutter, taking my pen back from her. I turn to the lawyer. “And the other?”

He hands me the business contracts wordlessly. I have no need to read these. I’ve read them more times than my divorce papers, and I know that my father and Mr. Carlisle have already signed them because I asked them to in advance.

Naomi stands as I flick through another set of marked pages and I hold my finger up, indicating she should wait. I hear her heavy sigh as she does and continue my signatures on the hefty contract. When I reach the end, I close the file and set the pen on top.

My eyes meet Naomi’s as I stand. Silence weighs heavily in the room, anticipation and curiousness threading through it as my family and our legal representative look on.

“Yes?” Naomi responds in a bored tone.

I adjust my cuff link, breaking our eye contact for a moment before I find her gaze once more. I have to control my smirk as the words roll off my tongue.

“I’m afraid your
modeling services are no longer required at the Stone Agency. Your agent is aware and in full agreement, and you may stop by her office on your way out to collect any details she may have and any possible future contracts should you decide to pursue a new agent outside of the company.”

Her mouth opens and closes several times until she resembles a fish. She straightens in her heels and looks at me furiously. “You’re firing me?”

“Firing you, letting you go… Call it what you will, Ms. Lane, but we will no longer be representing you.”

“You can’t do that! This is unfair dismissal.”

I rest my hands on the large antique desk in front of me and meet her eyes so she knows I’m being serious. “You haven’t signed a major contract in fifteen months, and since then, you’ve had less than ten jobs of any caliber. I’m letting you go on account of my belief that your time in this industry is coming to an end, and your former agent agrees with me, as do the director and manager of the agency. If you care to dispute our reasoning, then you are more than welcome. Until then, we’re done here. You know the way out.”

I sit down, tearing my eyes from hers and ignoring the harsh bark of laughter from my cousin. Naomi lingers for a moment, her eyes flicking over everyone in the room, then turns and leaves. The door slams behind her
, and I finally give in to the twitch of my lips.

“Well, that’s soothed the sting a little,” Mom remarks casually. “Nothing like some early morning entertainment, especially when she is the victim.” She pats me on the shoulder.

“Was all that true?” Mr. Carlisle questions me. “If not, she can take you to court.”

“It’s true,” Dad clarifies. “I’ve been considering
terminating her contract for a couple of months now, but in light of recent events, I decided I would let Aaron do the honors.”

“If you believe she’ll contest our claims, I’ll have the agency staff send you a full list of her contracts from the last two years,” I offer Mr. Carlisle. “I’d rather we cover all bases. She can be vindictive.”

Tyler snorts behind me but keeps his words to himself.

“Yes, best you do.” Mr. Carlisle stands and puts the files in his briefcase. “I will see to it
that these find their rightful homes and that copies are returned to you, Mr. Stone. Junior,” he adds as an afterthought.

I smile and stand to shake his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Carlisle. You’ve been incredibly helpful.”

“Just doing my job.” He turns to my father, shakes his hand, and subsequently kisses my mother’s cheek before leaving.

I sit down for a second time and exhale deeply. This business now belongs to me, and Naomi is no longer a thorn in my side. Now all that’s left to do is—

“When are you going to get her?” Tyler asks.

“Tomorrow.”

Light rain beats against the windows of my Seattle apartment. I stand in the front room, against the ceiling-high windows, and look out at the city.

I’ve been here so many times, and every time, I’ve looked and wondered where she was. Seven weeks ago, I got my answer. She was standing in front of me in a hotel looking so fucking beautiful that it hurt.

I vowed, there and then, that I’d never let her go again. That the only time I’d see her waking away from me would be because she’d be walking into the bedroom, ready for me to follow her. Or perhaps into the kitchen wearing nothing but my shirt, ready to make coffee.

I broke my promise to myself and my promise to her, but now, I’m determined to make it right again.

No matter how hard it is. I need my woman back in my life, and this time, I need her to stay.

My cell buzzes with a message from Tyler telling me that he’s back in London and he thinks there’s a possibility that the woman he fucked last night works for me. Fantastic. Not that I’m surprised any. While I spent my teen years pushing my father to teach me everything he knows about running a business, Tyler was gaining enough experience with girls to manage a porn company and give the girls real orgasms to boot.

I drop it on the bar in my kitchen and pour some whisky in a glass, barely glancing at the measurement. It burns my throat as it goes down, but it’s a welcome burn, and the subsequent warmth spreads through my body.

To know that Dayton is here, in this city, is making my body hum with anticipation and fear. I know she’s here, just not where… If she’s working or not.

Fuck. If she’s working. I don’t believe it, not in my heart, but the chill she looked at me with in Paris when she informed me
that I was just her client is enough to make me doubt it. If she can be so impersonal and emotionally blank standing right in front of me, surely she can do it without me being around.

My cell buzzes again
, and I look at the ceiling. If that’s Tyler…

She’s in Vibe.

I stare at Uncle Ted’s text. We own a handful of bars and clubs together, mainly in Seattle, but I leave the running of them to him while my aunt manages the restaurant side. The nightlife has never really been my thing, but the business opportunity came up. Working with my uncle was a no-brainer, even five years ago.

And now I know where she is. In the first bar we bought together, the one that doubles as a nightclub. Vibe Bar. The one a block away from my apartment.

I run my fingers through my hair. The temptation to go down there and see her, even if we don’t talk, is so strong. It would take me a minute to get there.

I want to see her. I fucking need to see her, to see if she’s okay, who she’s with…

Who is she with?

A blond
girl.

I nod my head, letting my breath out. Good. That’s probably her best friend, Liv. I remember her telling me about her a few times before.

But some guy is trying to hit on her.

I slip my feet in my shoes and slam the door behind me without thinking about what I’m doing. Right now, whether or not she wants to see me is irrelevant. Whether or not she does is even less relevant.

All I can think of in this second is getting down to Vibe and hauling this jackass off of my Dayton.

The music from the bar hits my ears as soon as I round the corner, and there are small pockets of people smoking outside. I push past them and into the bar.

My eyes immediately scan the place, searching for that gorgeous head of brown hair. She’s not hard to find. I’m drawn to her like we’re opposite poles. I’m certain I could find her even if the world was ending.

“Really, let me get it for you,” some guy says, leaning into her.

“That’s very kind of you, but no, thank you,” she responds, her voice carrying over the music. She hands a bill to the guy working the bar and turns away from the one next to her.

I think he’s about to speak again, but I don’t know, because I interrupt him anyway.
“You heard the lady. She can buy her own drink.”

Dayton stiffens
.

“And who are you?”
he shoots back.

My lips tug up at one side.
“I’m the owner.”

“Right. Sure you are. I bet you just want her for yourself, don’t you?”

I lean into him, lowering my voice. “I own this bar, and you’d be right in assuming that the woman you’re attempting to hit on is mine also. Now I suggest you find a seat at the other end of the bar or I’ll remove you personally.”

He stares me down before grabbing his
beer and moving. Dickhead.

Dayton grabs Liv’s arm and they both stand. She tugs her toward the exit, and the second Dayton’s hand falls from her friend, I step in. I shake my head at the blonde in front of me, and she shuts her mouth on whatever she was going to say.

The street is empty, the smokers of minutes ago back inside or moved on. The only person here is Dayton, leaning against the wall with her hands pressed against her stomach.

I step in front of her, my heart racing at the sight of her. Fuck. She looks gorgeous. Her dress clings to every part of her body
, and her hair is parted to the side, hanging over one shoulder, tantalizingly showing the side of her neck. I want to bend forward and run my lips across her skin, fold her into me, slide my hands over her body.

And then she looks up, and I remember everything.

Her dark eyes are hard but shocked. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I own this place with my uncle. He saw you were here and called me.”

“Not that it has anything to do with you. Where’s Liv?” She straightens, ready to move, but I reach out.

My fingers wrap around her bicep and I spin her into me. This conversation isn’t done yet.

“I wanted to see if you were okay. That’s all. Then that guy—”

“I can ta
ke care of myself.” She snatches her arm back. “I’m more than capable of it, thank you. I certainly don’t need saving from someone who has no right to do so.”

“Is that what you think?”

She steps back, her voice softening slightly. “That’s what I know. You gave up every right to have anything to do with me eleven days ago.”

“Twelve.”

“What?”

A bitter laugh bubbles in my throat
, but I swallow it down. “Twelve days. But who’s counting?”

“Not me, evidently.”
She turns away from me, leaving me with the view of the way her dress dips down to the small of her back, and rests her hand against the door.

“It’s over.
” The words fall from me easily despite the desperation inside me. I need her to know this, know that the thing that broke us apart is done with. “Naomi finally signed the papers two days ago.”

“Congratulations,” she responds weakly
. “Now perhaps you can find someone and have a real relationship with them.”

I shake my head as I look at her, her profile illuminated by the flickering of the bar lights. “I already found her.”

“Then it’s a shame you fucked it up, isn’t it?”

I step into her and rest my hand above hers on the door handle. My chest presses into her back, her ass
perfectly curving against me, and I settle my hand on her waist. She needs to understand that I’m not letting her go.

I lower my mouth to her ear.
“It took me seven years to find you again, and if you think I’m giving up now, you’re so very, very wrong.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second, but it doesn’t mean you’ll get anywhere.”

“This isn’t over, Dayton. We aren’t over.”

“Oh, it is. We’re very over
. Trust me.”

Like she’s snapped out of a trance, she yanks on the door. The movement forces me to step back and let her back inside. I follow her in, allowing her to return to Liv, and watch her steadily. Her hips sway with each step, and something in my stomach twists when I see her reach up to the corner of her eye and smile wanly.

Then her eyes meet mine, a myriad of emotions swirling in them, all fighting for the limelight, for the consuming swamp of feeling. Heartbreak is the most prevalent, I notice, its shadows slightly darker than the regret and sadness that push against it.

I hope that
, in my own, she sees the same thing reflected back.

The eyes speak louder than the mouth ever could.