Selective/Memory: The "Depth of Emotion" Book 2 (The Depth of Emotion) (7 page)

She had seen the look before, but this was how she most preferred him—cold and empty. As she looked out over the bay, she egotistically smiled inside at the good fortune that seemed to be hand-delivered at her feet. Declan was no longer with Aria; he was solely engaged in business these days and absorbed in making money. He had become absent and soulless enough to be malleable. If she played her cards right, she could sufficiently distract him enough to mold him into the perfect companion for her personal use and make him believe that she was his caring savior. The idea was too intriguing for words, and the potential so wickedly delightful to her that she tipped her chin up and embraced the warmth that was shining through the window in his office.

She’d had Declan order a tea from that girl at his outside desk.

What an incompetent little thing
, she thought.

When Marisol took over, that girl would be the first to go. Now wasn’t the time to suggest those changes, however. Now was the time to make mental notes. She settled in to observe him and plan her changes. She loved overhearing his new, detached conversations…

“I can have the details drawn up, and you can look over them, Declan. If the idea appeals to you and the legalities are agreeable, it would be a mutually beneficial business, both personally and professionally.”

Blake tried to express his enthusiasm for the opportunity he was presenting. He had, however, noticed the marked difference in Declan when they entered the room, especially the fact that he had been drinking and that he smelled like smoke. Hearing a rustling on the sofa, he also noted how Marisol was making herself even more relaxed to enjoy the show.

When had she become so cozy here, at The Studio and in Declan’s personal office?

Declan didn’t seemed to notice her ease, as if this were the norm. It seemed unnatural to Blake, as in the past his friend barely tolerated her. She seemed to have her radar tuned for Blake to see just how Declan would respond to him. Although she wasn’t directly looking at them, she was smirking as she looked at her hands, smoothed her skirt, picked at something invisible on her sleeve, etc. She was specifically trying to appear uninterested, while making note of every word. Having represented her for many years, he knew her well, and with Marisol, appearance was everything…

When the hell are they leaving?
Declan thought.

His eyes burned thoroughly from behind their sockets, and he lay the blame on the alcohol producing the incessant images of Aria. Although he tried to focus, he only wanted Blake and Marisol to leave him to his concentrated misery and exclusive pity party, to which neither had an invitation.

Attempting to bring this meeting to a hasty conclusion, he spoke deliberately to get to the point of the meeting.

“If the money is right, I’m certain that we’ll come to an agreement. Is that all for today?” he said, boring a hole into Blake with his stare…

Blake was shocked at the comment.

Was that a blatant attempt to dismiss him?

It was certain that alcohol was at play here—he’d have to be an absolute fool not to notice—but Declan’s deficient attitude was entirely hollow. This wasn’t the same man who had been his friend these many years, and the change was challenging at the moment—as well as distressing. His anger rising, he would have called him on it and brought his attention to the changed behavior. Now, however, wasn’t the time—not with alcohol at play, and not in front of Marisol. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, and the friendship would certainly suffer.

Standing to leave, Blake waited for Declan to do the same in standard courtesy of their completed meeting. Instead, he continued in the role of arrogant ass, looking up from his desk. He leaned back in his chair and pushed back with his stronger leg.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t get up,” he said in feigned self-pity and sarcasm, waving his hand in the direction of his leg.

Again, shocked, Blake held his emotion. He had also been a model at one time and could turn his expressions on and off for the benefit of others. Graciously, he came around to the side of the desk to offer his hand again. It was a subtle reminder to Declan that he was, still, a friend and gave him a silent offer of support should he need to talk. His hope was to also leave some room for embarrassment when he looked back on his behavior today…

Declan looked at his friend, knowing that he had been rude. Presently, he felt awful and didn’t care, but he’d offer his hand to the man who didn’t deserve his unprovoked anger or sarcasm.

“Thanks for coming down, Blake. Everything sounds good. I’m sure we can work something out,” he said, letting his guard down for just a moment to reconnect with a man who had just offered him a generous proposal.

“Take care of yourself, Dec. I’ll be in touch,” Blake said, noting a brief fragment of shame in his words. At least he knew that his true friend was somewhere inside this unknown personality that he’d met today.

He addressed Marisol who was still perched on the sofa.

“Are you ready?”

Gracing Blake for just a moment with her condescendence, she turned to give him her attention.

“No,” she informed him. “I have just a few things to talk to Declan about and then I will leave myself. Thank you. You may go without me.”

She looked away from him and turned her attention back to a trade publication that had been in the office.

Blake, irritated, went for the door. He was irritated. Being dismissed twice in fifteen minutes had been a little more than irritating.

Once the office door had opened, Katherine entered.

“Here’s the iced tea you requested,” she said, delivering the drink to Declan.

“That was for me. You may bring it here,” Marisol directed.

Katherine played deaf and ignored her, causing her boss to snigger. Continuing to give her boss her attention, and not Marisol, she straightened from the desk.

“Is there anything else you need?” She said, smiling at him.

Noting Katherine’s scornful dismissal of Marisol, he enjoyed watching the power play.

“No, you can go back to your desk. I have a few things to discuss with Marisol and then I’ll be going home. Thanks, Katherine.” Lifting playful eyes to her, he winked.

With that, Katherine completely ignored Marisol and exited the room, closing the door on her way out.

“She’s incompetent,” Marisol said, making her way to retrieve her iced tea.

“She’s a good assistant,” Declan defended.

“She would never work for me.”

“She doesn’t. She works for me.”

The challenge had been issued, but Marisol didn’t want to argue with him. Quite the contrary, she had something else in mind. She concentrated her efforts on flipping his mood.

“You’re a good man,” she said in a sweet voice.

An image of Aria saying those words to him instantly engulfed his mind.

“Someone else once told me that,” he replied.

Knowing who that someone probably was, Marisol quickly jumped in to do damage control. The last thing she wanted was for him to be thinking of Aria.

“Anyone can see that, Declan. You have a good heart, and you are working yourself to death.” She changed her tone. “You look like you need a vacation.”

Eyeing her carefully, he relaxed into his chair and put his throbbing leg up on the desk. He spread his other leg and braced it on the floor to give him balance.

He leaned back. This was the most comfortable he’d been since seeing Aria today. Closing his eyes, he knew Marisol would be droning on about some unimportant topic for several minutes.

“I don’t need a vacation. I was just on a vacation for quite a few months.”

“Don’t be silly,” she chastised. “That wasn’t a vacation. You worked very hard when you were getting well.”

Will I constantly have to stroke this man’s ego?

She rose from her chair, and came to stand behind him.

Placing her hands on his shoulders, she began to massage the tight muscles on either side of his neck as she spoke in a soft voice.

“You were a very distressed man. You had so much to think about while you were working so hard to get strong and recover.”

Continuing her massage, she felt his tension dissolve into her hands. She was good at this, and she knew it.

“You had The Studio on your mind and all of the details of this business. No one knows that better than me. I know how much work you do. You are very, very good at this, and I see how hard it is on you. I see what you look for in every one of the prospective young men and women you interview. I hear the questions you ask them, and I pay attention to what you are looking for in them…”

Declan began to relax as he pictured Aria’s help in the start-up.

Marisol let her hands slide down to his chest as he felt the effects of the alcohol and her words combine with his visions, allowing her touch to soften him.

“It is too much for one person to carry alone, and you have been doing it for so long. Sometimes, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to help you—someone who understands you, someone who cares about you?…”

He thought of his connection with Aria; how she helped him and understood everything about him…

Marisol moved to his side where the strong leg was bracing him. As she continued with one hand moving from the middle of his chest to his stomach, she placed the other hand on the inside of his thigh, rubbing with a soft massage.

She lowered her voice to a caressing whisper, leaning in to speak to him in a manner that would encourage him to relinquish what was left of his tightly held guard. Her motive was purely selfish.

“You need someone to worry about you. You care about so many other people…and so many depend on you. You are kind and always doing nice things…acting like a big brother to the young people you bring in here. They don’t know how hard this business can be, do they…”

She moved her hand up his thigh, caressing and massaging as she traveled. Her hand had found its destination, and she smiled as she heard him slightly suck in his breath.

“Yes, this business can be…so…hard…you and I know how…hard…it…can…be…”

She continued her gentle assault on his growing member, and he disintegrated deep into his chair.

Declan heard nothing she was saying. His thoughts were of a blue-eyed girl, standing on a beach in the wind, making her way in the sunshine to him, her dark curls wildly swirling all around…and he wanted her—badly. He felt himself becoming alive for the first time at the thought of her. Parts of him that had been dead now stiffened and desired to be alive inside of her. He felt her coming closer, he could feel her graceful, sensual fingers bringing him back to life for her, and the warmth of her face coming closer as his head lay back for her…

“…it…is…so…hard, but I can make it better for you…I… WILL…make it better for you…”

Marisol was within an inch of his lips and her hand was on his hot and elevated flesh. He was full and throbbing, and she was delighted. She finally had him exactly where she wanted him, and he was within her control. Her lips were barely touching his as his eyes slightly opened to see her, and his hand reached to pull her intoxicating locks into his fist…then reality hit.

What’s this?

He became immediately aware of his surroundings.

Shit! These aren’t her eyes! They aren’t blue; this isn’t her!

He felt the blood immediately leave that part of him that only to belonged to Aria. Quickly, he grew limp and flaccid in the hand of the one that tried to take her place, irritating her.

He pushed himself up in his chair, recovering what he could of his senses.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he barked as he pushed her away.

Manipulation was her game. This was her grand opportunity to play the injured victim.

“I am so sorry,” she whimpered. “I was only trying to help.”

“That is NOT helping.”

Quickly moving to the chair that Blake had been sitting in, Marisol put safe distance between them. She had always known when to put space between her and the one she had offended when she was a child and her overbearing father had been angry with her or her sister, and she was an expert at playing the game now.

“You seemed upset when Blake left, and also very tense. I was trying to relax you.”

Looking down into her lap, she played the injured victim in mock sorrow and shame.

“I will not make you angry again. I promise.”

Giving the appearance of being scared and repentant, she knew she’d make him feel remorse.

Declan wasn’t heartless or a complete bastard. The look on his face confirmed she’d been successful.

“You didn’t make me angry,” he said, exasperated, “but DON’T do that again. EVER.”

Keeping her head down, she continued.

“I won’t
if
you don’t want me to, but if you ever
need
me to, I will.” She lifted her eyes to look at him, giving him a silent, inviting look that said she’d indeed be willing to fill a need for him in that area any time he wanted.

Disgusted with himself, he adjusted and buckled his belt.