Lex (Unconventional Hearts) (26 page)

“Pleasant outcome, Ms. Keagan,” he shakes my
hand firmly and drops it, taking my heart with him. I hate that I
feel this much. It’s terrible and wrong on so many fronts.

A few minutes later, we are all filing out of
the conference room and Gage is strolling ahead of me, reading
something on his cell.

“Gage, can we talk?” I ask, catching up to
him and gently placing my hand on his forearm.

Shaking his head, he keeps walking, ignoring
that I’m even talking to him.

“Gage.” I plead.

Passing office after office, he stops for a
moment, tucks his phone back into his pocket with a smile and turns
to face me. “Ms. Keagan?”

That’s it! I’ve had enough of this cold
shoulder.

Flashing me a questioning look, like I’m
supposed to speak, I wait until the last person passes us and I
quickly grab his tie and yank him into an open office. Closing the
door behind me, he tries to grab the handle to let himself out.

“No,” I order, staring him down.

“Let me out, this isn’t a game, Ms. Keagan.
Weren’t you already being sued for sexual advances? Don’t make me
file a report.” His tone suggests he’s beyond bored with me,
already.

“No,” I slap his chest, pushing him
backward.

“Don’t touch me again.” He warns, finally
making eye contact, his eyes shooting lasers of molten anger at me.
I can see the pain lingering in his gaze. I damaged him.

“How’s Emma?” I inquire, pushing his hand
away from the doorknob as he tries to open it for the second
time.

“How do you want her to be?”

“Good, happy…”

He cuts me off. “Yeah well, you should have
thought about that before you broke her heart.”

Whoa! Wait a minute here. I didn’t break
anybody’s heart! I want to see Emma, he just won’t let me.

“I want to see her.” I drop my tone low, so
he doesn’t find me too demanding.

“No,”

“Please.” I’m begging now.

“No.” I can feel the resentment hanging in
the air.

“Do you want me to get on my knees and
beg?”

“There’s a lot of things I’d like you on your
knees for, Lex. Begging to see my daughter isn’t one of them.”

That was a straight shot to my heart. I
tried. I’m done. This is too much.

Slouching my shoulders, I bow my head and
scoot away from the door to let him leave, but he doesn’t move.

“Go.” I grumble, sweeping my hand toward the
door handle.

“No.”

“Why?” I morosely ask, staring at his
unmoving feet. I knew he’d be wearing nice shoes. I was right.

“Look at me.”

I shake my head.

“Please, Lex, look at me.” Now he’s the one
pleading. What’s his deal? One minute he’s trying to escape and
knocking me down a peg. The next he’s staying and asking me to look
at him. Men! Sheesh!

I comply with his sweet tone and bit-by-bit
raise my head and lock eyes with him.

He smiles.

Now I’m really feeling like a fool and an
emotional basket case. I really wish I didn’t allow him to hold
this much power over me but he does. It’s like Brian all over
again. What is wrong with me!?

“I can’t take this emotional warfare, Gage. I
really can’t.” I take a deep breath, grab the door handle and
leave. I’m done fighting with him. I’m done with everything. I’m so
glad it’s Friday. I plan to spend the entire weekend with a
half-gallon of rocky road and TV.

Chapter Eighteen

Saturday

“Get the hell out of bed, Lex.” Roni orders,
relentlessly pounding on my bedroom door.

“Go away!” I yell.

“No, the delivery man just dropped off a
package that I had to sign for, the least you could do is open the
damn thing. It’s time to come out of hiding.” Sassy Britches is
miraculously speaking to me again. Four days of radio silence and
now she’s trying to draw me out of weekend hibernation.

“What is it?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know? You’ve
got five minutes to get your robe on and come downstairs. I’ve made
tea and set the table. If you’re not down there, I’m burning this
house to the ground with you in it.”

I bark a laugh, shaking my head. That’s Sassy
Britches at her finest. God love her.

“Fine.” I pout, even though I’m truly
ecstatic she’s speaking to me again. With Roni, you can’t approach
her to make amends, not unless you want an earful of words that
would make a trucker blush. Trust me, I’ve got years of experience
dealing with her. Honestly, it’s probably her time of the month,
which makes her extra bitchy.

Dragging myself out of bed, I cover my red
silky nightgown with my cream silk robe and meet Roni down in the
kitchen.

She smiles as I take a seat across from her.
It seems the table is a place to store packages, because that’s
where she’s left it.

“Well?” she presses, eyeing the box.

“I’ll open it now.” I give her a dirty look,
stand, and grab a knife from the knife block on the kitchen
counter. Slicing open the top I tug back the flaps and nestled
inside is a beautiful white flowing gown, a pair of white heels and
a note written on red cardstock.

I know you’ve had a rough week. It’s time
for someone to treat you for a change. Wear this dress tonight to
Vino’s and enjoy dinner and drinks on me.

I’ll be watching.

Suit Master

I read aloud.

“Dinner at Vino’s?” Roni asks, a thoughtful
look marking her face.

“Seems so. That’s what the note states.” I
drop it in front of her on the table and reach into the box, gently
extracting its contents. The size twelve shoes I set on the table
and carefully lift the dress from its prison.

Holding it out in front of me, pressed
against my chest, it nearly touches the floor.

“That’s beautiful.” Roni whistles, eyeing the
dress appreciatively.

She’s right; it’s exquisite and reminds me of
a beautifully wistful, Grecian gown encompassing a delicate
ethereal quality. It must have cost the Suit Master another
fortune. The tennis bracelet unquestionably matches this gown,
telling me that he had planned this night well in advance. That sly
altruistic bastard.

Spending each night for days on end, texting
and sneakily learning more about me has left him even bolder than I
imagined. It’s one thing to speak of romantics. It’s another to
display it this forthright. It’s true I’ve become more acquainted
with him, but I’ve yet to even know what he looks like. I asked him
that last night. He responded. “Handsome enough to get girls and
smart enough to know better.” Not sure if that’s his way of easing
my mind, by gently confessing he doesn’t sleep around. Every single
thing about him is never cut and dry. He leaves it all open to vast
interpretation. Not sure if that makes him more intriguing and
attractive, or a huge pain in my ass.

“Are you going?” Roni inquires, with a
serious expression, dropping the cardstock back onto the table with
a thud.

Exaggeratingly, I shrug my shoulders, holding
them steady by my ears. “What do you think?” I ask, nervously
nibbling my bottom lip.

“I think if a man courts you like he has, I’d
go. I’m not into all the mushy shit. You deserve it though, and he
seems genuine in wanting to get to know you.”

Sure he does, or maybe he’s a lunatic.

“Yeah, maybe… But… Weren’t you just telling
me to give Gage a shot?” I press, with wide eyes and a raised brow,
nearly chewing a hole into my lip.

“Neither one have claimed you. You’re not
exclusive with anyone. I’d play the field.”

No she wouldn’t, she just wants me to have a
boyfriend. She doesn’t have to worry about me being lonely, now
that she has Bob. The sentiment is sweet, the execution, not so
much.

“No, you wouldn’t., I’m fairly certain all of
this ‘courting’ and the way the Suit Master expresses his feelings
towards me, makes me his proverbial tree that he’s pissing on to
mark his territory.”

Laughing at my mundane comment, she shakes
her head. “That may be true, but until either of them sees
lady
, you are not to be tied down and that’s final.”

Bossy Roni, she’s pulling out all the stops
today. Go figure. I was basically shunned from her presence for
days and now she’s become bitchy, bossy best friend again. Not
saying I don’t like having her back, I do. I just hate when it’s
from one extreme to the next. Her emotional waves are giving me
whiplash.

Mock saluting her and giving her a playful,
“Eye, eye, Captain,” I gather up my belongings and take them to my
bedroom.

I’m sitting in a quaint booth here at Vino’s
Italian restaurant. It’s nearly eight and I’ve been putting back
copious amounts of expensive alcohol and fine wine. I’m feeling way
too good at this point.

I drove here a little over an hour ago, after
I spent the better half of two hours dolling myself up and
listening to Patsy as I sang off key and danced happily in my en
suit bathroom.

My black hair is styled into a sleek low bun
and my makeup is classically subtle. The dress from the Suit Master
fits like a well-tailored suit, made just for me. My heels are
surprisingly comfortable, or maybe it’s the fact that all I ever
wear is heels.

Pulling into Vino’s parking lot left me
antsy. Coming into the restaurant my stomach was tied in all sorts
of unwelcomed knots. The restaurant is packed. Nevertheless, when I
arrived, Raul the host, immediately knew who I was and escorted me
to a small booth for two. Set in the back corner of the restaurant,
atop my table sits a dozen long stem red roses inside a chocolate
brown and white ceramic vase. A pink box, no doubt from Barbie’s,
is filled with three giant bite chocolate suit decorated
strawberries. Not tux’s, like you typically see strawberries
decorated, actual Suits, chocolate blue ties and all.

I’ve never thought of myself as a woman who
would swoon over romantic gestures. Clearly, I’m a big fat idiot,
because once I laid my eyes upon the Suit Master’s attention to
details and sheer sweetness, I did swoon and continue to do so.
This has been one of the most amazing nights of my life.

He’s been emotionally attentive texting me
every ten minutes, paying me compliments and actively partaking in
this unconventional date. While I ate Vino’s signature lasagna he
texted, expressing how ‘Angelically Beautiful’ I look wearing this
designer dress. He’s a sweetheart, there’s no doubt about it. I’ve
tried a hundred different times to spot him in the restaurant and
I’ve come up with zilch. Even though I can feel he’s here with me.
Like a warm all-encompassing presence has me wrapped into its
masculine arms, or that’s how I picture them.

Now, after an entire bottle of the most
spectacular full-bodied red wine and two glasses of Patrón, I’m
stupidly tipsy, and giddy with such an overabundance of happiness,
that I think I could just burst.

Taking a sip of my Patrón, I dive into my
hardy slice of turtle cheesecake for dessert. It’s so good, purely
orgasmic delicious.

My phone vibrates on the table. I know it’s
him.

Suit Master:
I’ve headed home, my Angel. I
hope tonight has made your stressful week end on a more pleasant
note. I loved watching you. I don’t know how I’ve become such a
lucky man to catch the slightest bit of attention from the sexiest
and most amazing woman. I consider myself blessed. Goodnight,
Angel… Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till
it be morrow.

Smiling like a love drunk imbecile. I fumble
with the letters on my phone and text him back.

Me:
Drive safe, oh dear one. This was the
best night I’ve had in ages. Thank you so much. P.S. I think you’re
pretty amazing yourself.

Devouring the rest of my cheesecake
bite-by-bite, savoring the flavor with little orgasmic groans, I
close my eyes, falling into creamy delectable bliss. I lick the
last piece from my fork with a deep groan just as my brunette,
fancifully dressed waitress Jasmine, swoops in to collect my empty
plate.

“I think I’m ready to leave.” I announce,
sliding out of the booth. Standing, I wobble slightly on my heels
and Jasmine grabs ahold of my arm to steady me.

“Thanks.” I mumble. Readjusting my dress, by
smoothing my hands down its soft luxurious sides.

“No problem. Do you want me to call you a
cab? You’re too drunk to drive. I can have Raul carry your roses
and box to the car.” She languidly explains. Apparently, her
experience with inebriated people has left her with the impression
we’re all brain dead idiots when we’re drunk. I’m not, I’m just
happy and a little swimmy in my head. Is that even a thing? Gosh… I
don’t even know.

Carefully leaning over into the booth, I
snatch my purse from my seat.

“I’m not driving. Lincoln would have my
license. I’ll go to my car and call someone from out there. It’s
rude to talk on cellphones in a restaurant, and it’s too loud.”