Shut Up and Kiss Me (8 page)

I grinned again, reaching for laundry detergent. I could still smell him on my sheets—his musky cologne, his hair, his body… I hated that I had to wash that away, almost like I was washing away the memory. But I wouldn’t; I would keep it with me forever. That one night of freedom.

No longer did I feel cheap or used. Once my head had cleared and my hangover had gone, I’d been able to see it for it really was. If men could have one-night stands and feel proud, then so could women—so could I. And I was proud. Our night together had been amazing, and though it hurt that he’d left without a word, I knew it had been for the best.

Grabbing a large carton of milk, I placed it in the cart, and then made my way to the vegetable aisle and began loading the cart with onions, tomatoes, and carrots, grinning as I bagged the carrots. They were long and thick and reminded me of…

Laughing, I tossed them in the cart as well and continued to smile all the way to the checkout.

*
* *

Back at my apartment, I set to putting the groceries away and then on to chopping vegetables in preparation for dinner. I clicked the television on as I chopped, flicking to the news channel, as I always did. It was more of the same, and with a smile I turned it off.

Each week in New York, I could feel myself relaxing further, settling into this new life I had created for myself. Yes, I was still hiding—I would always be hiding—only I wasn’t nearly as terrified as I used to be. I felt as safe I could feel in my position.

Tossing everything into a pan, I set the burner to simmer and placed a lid on top before heading into my bedroom to strip the bedding. I pulled off the sheets, smirking at the memories of me and Will, our bodies wound together. Taking a seat on the mattress, I reached to my bedside table and fingered his note. I had been staring at it since yesterday, still wondering about it.

On one hand, he had left me his number, leaving me to assume that maybe he did want me to call. But then on the other hand, he had left while I was still asleep, giving me the impression that his note had simply been a courtesy and nothing more. If he had really wanted me to call, he would have left more than his number. Or he wouldn’t have left at all—at least not before waking me.

Sighing, I shook my head, coming to the same conclusion I’d come to a hundred times already—it had been a onetime thing and nothing more. Shoving the sliver of paper beneath a book, I began stripping the pillows free of their cases.

Holding up one pillowcase, I brought it to my nose, breathing in Will’s scent and holding it there, relishing in the memories for just a few moments more. Grinning, I began stuffing the pillow back inside, deciding to wash this particular case tomorrow. I’d had the most amazing dreams last night—dreams that weren’t filled with worry and fear, the scent of Will washing away my usual nightmares. Was it such a bad thing to want to hold onto that for just one more night?

“
Mila?” Nikki called out, and the front door slammed. “You here?”

Standing up and grabbing the rest of the bedding, I headed out into the hall. “Here,” I called. Spotting the bin in the hall, I tossed the laundry away, along with all thoughts of Will, and went to greet her.

*
* *

Will brought his glass to his lips and took a healthy swig. He didn’t normally drink while he was working, but it had been an exceptionally shitty day. His mother had called earlier and an argument had ensued. Afterward, he’d come to INFINITY, holed up in his office, and been there ever since.

Apparently his presence at brunch had only succeeded in reminding his father just how absent he was from the family business. His mother had just recently stopped nagging him to put his “silly nightclubs” behind him, only to start up once again.

An ultimatum was brewing; Will could feel it, and he didn’t much care for ultimatums from anyone. Nor would he feel obliged to back down if he was given one. If nothing else, stubbornness was the one thing he had in common with his father.

Taking another swig of his drink, he heard his cell begin to vibrate. Reaching across his desk, he grabbed it, checking the screen before answering.

“
What’s up, Richard?”

“
Sir?”

“
For the last damn time, cut the ‘sir’ shit!”

“
But sir…”

Will started laughing. Richard had been originally hired by his mother when Will had been barely twenty-two and just out of college. He’d known immediately that he hadn’t wanted to join the family business, much to his father’s intense disapproval. And so, he’d taken his inheritance and put it all into opening up his first nightclub. He’d been dreaming up the idea the entire time he’d been studying business and finance. His clubs would be elite, luxurious, and indulgent. He knew the wealthy better than most, and knew exactly how to exploit them for profit.

Upon hearing of his plans, his mother had hired Richard as his own personal security, for the sole purpose of keeping him safe. It had been amusing at the time, and to placate her he’d kept Richard on, using him as a personal driver more than anything else. And then as the years passed, with Richard being only a handful of years older than Will, they’d easily become less like chauffeur and chauffeured and more like friends.

Richard chuckled. “I’ve been sitting outside for half an hour now. Are you planning on spending the night here, or will you be needing me to take you home at some point?”

Frowning, Will poured himself another drink. “Funny.”

“
Are you alone?” Richard asked.

“
Just me and my whiskey, my friend. And you’re more than welcome to come join me.”

“
Are you in the club, or your office?”

“
My office.” Hanging up, Will leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease the headache he could feel building. But upon closing his eyes, Mila’s face infiltrated his thoughts—her green eyes, her dimples, the way her cheeks flushed red when she blushed.

“
Did I miss her?” Richard’s booming voice echoed around the confines of Will’s office.

“
Who?” Will opened his eyes and sat up straight. Pulling forth another glass from the minibar behind him, he poured Richard a drink and slid it across the desk.

Richard’s brow rose. “Only two reasons you’ve ever kept me waiting. Either you were with a woman, or you’re hiding from your mother. And since you’re mother isn’t here…” Grabbing his glass, Richard took a seat in one of the two chairs seated opposite Will’s desk. Taking a small sip, he grimaced. “Cheap bastard,” he muttered. “Where’s the good stuff?”

Will snorted. “This is ninety dollars a bottle, you damn snob. And no, there was no woman.”

“
You were alone?” Richard looked confused. “And drinking?”

Will downed the rest of his whiskey and brought the glass down hard on his desk. “You’re right, this does taste cheap.” Standing, he smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt and sighed. “And yeah, I was here alone, and drinking alone.” Grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair, he jerked his chin toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Richard held up one finger and poured the contents of his glass down his throat. Coughing, he shook his head sadly. “Cheap,” he said. “Awful.”

“
More awful than being thirty-one years old, a successful business owner, and still having your family treat you like child?”

As Richard joined him in the hallway, he took in Will’s petulant expression and grinned. “Ah, so, I take it mommy dearest called?”

Will made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “No matter what I do, I can’t get them to see that this is it for me—that this is what I enjoy.” He gestured with his hands toward the walls. “That this is me!”

Richard stayed silent, as was his usual way, simply letting Will vent, and together they exited through the backdoor of the club, Will locking up and setting the alarm while Richard pulled the car forward.

Will climbed in, choosing the passenger seat over the back, buckled his seat belt, and closed his eyes.

“
I can’t stop thinking about her, Richard,” he eventually said.

“
Who?”

“
Mila.”

“
The woman from Queens?” Richard asked, chuckling softly.

“
Yes, and stop laughing at me.”

Pulling out into street, Richard spared him a quick glance. “I’m guessing she hasn’t called?”

“
No,” Will groaned. “She definitely has not called. Not that I blame her. I did leave before she woke up.”

“
You left before she woke up
and
left her your number?” Richard sounded amused. “Now that’s a first.”

“
I was confused,” Will protested. “Conflicted!”

“
Apparently,” Richard mocked. “But who could blame you? Queens is a confusing place. Thank God she wasn’t from Jersey. Speaking of Jersey, remember that wo—”

“
Don’t remind me,” Will interrupted. “What a nightmare.”

“
Case in point,” Richard continued. “You have horrible taste in women. Maybe it’s best she hasn’t called…
sir
.”

Will quirked an eyebrow. “That’s the problem,
Jeeves
. She’s not like the other women. Not at all.”

Chapter Six

It was a little
after eleven when Nikki came to the restaurant. Having just finished her own shift at the hotel she worked for, she plopped herself onto a stool at the far end of the bar and waved me over. Giving her a smile, I continued printing the bill for my last table, eager to finish for the night.

Slipping out from behind the bar, I headed toward the last of my customers: a family of five, the matriarch of which was an obnoxious woman who had complained about slow service, cold food, not enough ice, too much ice—pretty much anything and everything she could possibly think of.

Tucking a stray curl behind my ear, I steeled my expression, hoping that my smile appeared genuine and not at all like I wanted to take the remnants of her apple crisp and dump it in her lap.

“
Here you go, ma’am,” I said, handing her the bill.

Outstretching her hand, she snapped the paper from my fingers and scanned it quickly. “I need to speak to the manager,” she spat. “I’m not paying for this—not when service has been so poor. The food, the quality, the service…” She ticked off each item on her fingers and then looked to her husband for confirmation. Like their three children’s, his eyes were glued to a cell phone; he hadn’t even heard her.

“
I’ll go get him,” I said, and flashed her another smile.

Turning away, I flashed Nikki a grimace, rolling my eyes as I headed into the back, to the small office where Carlos, the owner, was hunched over the bookkeeping. He glanced up with a smile of relief as I entered, always glad for an interruption when it came to crunching numbers. Carlos was a great boss—easygoing and not overly intrusive of my past. As long as everyone turned up on time and did their job without complaint, he was happy to help us out in any way he could. The small restaurant was family owned and operated, and had been passed down from his grandparents, to his mother and father, and now to him and his wife. And while he loved to cook—and loved to eat even more—he wasn’t so confident in the actual running of the restaurant.

“
What is it, Mila?”

“
Table five, again,” I said, shrugging apologetically. I’d been in to see him three times through the evening already.

Carlos sighed heavily. “What does she want now?” Pulling off his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose. As much as Carlos hated bookkeeping, he disliked confrontations with customers even more.

“
She said she’s not paying for her meal.” I shook my head. “There was nothing wrong with her food, Carlos, or the service. She’s just being a pain in the ass.”

“
I’m sure she is,” he replied, “But this restaurant is built on reputation alone, and our business depends on word of mouth. I can’t have the family name brought down by one customer. You never know who people are in New York. A senator, a model, a—”

“
A bitch?” I suggested, smirking.

“
Or a bitch, yes,” he said, grinning. “Go ahead and give her fifty percent off.” He sighed again before slipping his glasses back on.