The Do Over (59 page)

I needed to get out of Miami and away from the constant reminders. I broke my only rule—no attachments. What the hell was I thinking? The elevator doors opened, and for a split second, I thought I'd see him standing by the desk, tapping his fingers on the counter as he waited for me. My heart beat with anticipation, but I quickly forced that thought out of my head. That was ridiculous anyway.

It was Saturday morning, his day for wooing and manipulating Daniela to fall back in love with him. He was probably sealing the deal at this very moment after months of breaking down her resolve.

Instead, with my head held high, wearing dark sunglasses, I stepped out into the lobby. My blonde hair was pulled back in a chignon. I was dressed appropriately for the occasion with my white button-down blouse and tailored wool navy slacks.

My carry-on rested on my shoulder while I held my camel cashmere coat in the crook of my arm. I pulled my rolling suitcase behind me and made my way toward the door, leaving behind the memories, and I was off to erase them permanently.

Walter, the best doorman I'd ever known, got up from behind his desk, rushing to help me, and took my luggage. "Good morning, Ms. Stuart," he said enthusiastically. "I can call the valet and have your car brought up, if you'd like."

I nodded my head slightly and responded flatly, "Thank you Walter, but that won't be necessary." I kept my gaze forward, trying to steady my racing heart.

Normally, Walter and I had engaged in friendly small talk, but today, I wasn't in the mood. I needed to get away, and surprisingly, I'd found this harder than I'd expected.

He stepped aside, allowing me to walk out first. The Town Car was at the curb, waiting to take me to the airport. "Ms. Stuart, are you, uh, going on a trip?" he asked, coming up quickly beside me. "I'll make arrangements to look over your things while you're gone." He handed my luggage to the driver. "When will you be back?"

Walter had always been polite, professional, and efficient, except when it had come to Rick Marin. One of my miscalculations had been having Rick wait for me in the lobby before our morning runs. Of course, the man, who was capable of holding a conversation with a plant, would befriend Walter and would schmooze him for favors. As such, I couldn't trust Walter with the truth.

I doubted Rick would bother coming by while I was gone, but on the off chance that would happened, I didn't want him knowing where I was or that I'd ever be back. As far as I was concerned, my temporary inconvenience expired, and the time had come to move on. I had been Team Rick until I wasn't, and that was now.

I glanced up, looking at Walter as I was getting in the car. "I'll be gone indefinitely," I lied, shifting in my seat, and faced forward. I clasped my hands together to keep them from trembling. "I've made arrangements, so you won't have to worry about anything. Thank you for everything, Walter. It's been a pleasure."

"Ms. Stuart, I hope you change your mind, and the pleasure's been mine." He closed the door, and the car pulled away from the curb. I didn't look back. Instead, I swallowed the lump that was suffocating me as I closed my eyes, stifling that ache in my chest. I slowly opened them and stared out the window as I composed myself.

"Good morning, Ma'am," the non-descript driver said. "Just need to confirm you're on American Airlines flight 1137 to LaGuardia?"

"Yes," I responded absentmindedly, barely acknowledging him. I wouldn't be able to pick him out of a line up, and for the life of me I couldn't recall his name. It wasn't like me to not know these things. My life was spinning out of control, and I desperately needed to reel it in.

This was an impromptu trip. I hadn't made a single arrangement other than booking my flight and the car service to pick me up. I'd become one of those ridiculously weak women that annoyed the living shit out of me.

I wasn't running away. I was going home for an overdue visit. I pulled out my phone and tapped out the familiar number. It rang, maybe twice before I heard the deep raspy voice that had comforted me my entire life. Whatever resolve I had was gone. A lone tear made its way down the side of my face. I blinked my eyes rapidly as I wiped it away.

"Darling, it's so good to hear from you," he said.

I exhaled slowly, calming my emotions. "Good morning," I whimpered involuntarily. I steadied my gaze and focused.
I could do this. I was Madison Stuart. I have the world by the balls and wasn't going to let one asshole derail me.

"Maddy, darling, are you alright?" His words were filled with concern.

"Yes, I'm sorry. It's just so good to hear your voice that I got a little teary. I really miss you."

His tone softened as he chuckled warmly. "My dear, darling, Maddy, how I've missed you. Your seat was empty at Thanksgiving and Christmas. We agreed that you would come home for the holidays. You were sorely missed."

He was wonderful, laying the guilt trip in his own way, so it didn't feel like a reproach even though it was. I rolled my eyes. "I beg to differ with you on that. I doubt that anyone other than you noticed I wasn't there. The only call I received either day was from you, and as I explained to you then and repeat now, I was working on a project that required my attention. It's finished, so guess what? I'm on my way right now to spend a few days with
you
."

I left out the part where I planned to spend a few days in New York City doing
whatever
it would take to get Rick Marin out of my system.

"I want to hear about this project that kept you away. I've done a little checking up on you with corporate, and they're very excited with your performance as they should be. You're a Stuart."

"I learned from the best. Now please, I'm coming home for pleasure not business. No shop talk. I'm arriving at the airport now and have to let you go. I'll see you in a few hours."

"Dinner at Mark's, seven o'clock," he stated. It wasn't a request and that was fine. I trusted him. He knew how far to push. "I'll send Nelson to pick you up at the airport."

"Perfect. I'll see you soon." My eyes were closed as I rocked myself gently.

"Maddy?" he asked.

Stilling myself, I responded, "Yes, Grandfather?" My heart pounded in my chest.

"I love you, darling," he said, softly. "I can't wait to see you."

"I love you, too," I choked out, wiping the tears that rebelled against my resolve. "I'll text Nelson with the details."

"Pull it together," I mumbled to myself as I placed my phone on my lap and ran my hands over my hair, making sure it was neatly in place. I took in a few cleansing breaths to steady my heaving chest, as I desperately tried to clear my head. "You're Madison Stuart. You're in control. You know what you want and live life on your terms."

As we were pulling up to the terminal, I reached for my phone to make one more call. I straightened in my seat and tapped his number before I brought the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" he answered groggily. "Madison, what's up?"

"Good morning, Bruce. I'm sorry to wake you, but I'm calling in the favor." My words shot out quick and to the point. I was all business.

"What? Okay," he stammered. "I mean, is everything okay?"

"Bruce, I need to you to cover for me over the next few days. I'm sorry for the short notice, but I'm at the airport on my way out of town."

Bruce Miller was my number one bartender at Martini Bar where I was the manager. The man was a genius mixing drinks, following orders, and making things happen. He was easy on the eyes and the women loved him.

On his nights alone, we'd averaged easily thirty percent more in sales. He could read people better than anyone I'd known, and he used that skill behind the bar. He wasn't the only one with that talent. It had become a game we'd play, watching the patrons as they'd mingled or stirred their drinks. He'd called them as he saw them. I should've listened to him the day Rick walked into Martini Bar, looking like a train wreck. He'd seen the asshole while I'd envisioned a challenge.

I usually didn't work on Mondays, but on that one in particular, I had to go in for a meeting with Roger, the Regional Director and Mason, my brother, the heir extraordinaire. Dressed in a conservative navy suit with my hair pulled back, I wowed their pants off. Yes, they thought I was just a pretty face who was going to make a complete fool of herself, managing a lounge in a down economy in a city that was saturated with failing bars and clubs. I sat back in my chair with my hand under my chin, enjoying the look of defeat on Mason's face. I couldn't wait for them to jump on the next plane back to New York.

As soon as they walked out of my office, I closed the door. I let down my hair and shook my head. I took off the blazer and unbuttoned my blouse to reveal the perfect amount of cleavage. I was in the mood to celebrate.

I walked out on to the floor as Rick pushed through the door. My eyes went to him as he made his way to the bar. His hair was tousled, and he had this look of something on his face, defeat mixed with unbridled heat. He stood with his arms stretched out on the bar, waiting for Bruce. I was in such a good mood that I didn't even care that Bruce was ignoring him. It actually gave me a chance to study him for a bit.

Bruce finally took his order and made his way back to me. "Tell me, Bruce, why are you purposely making a customer wait?" I asked, leaning against the bar.

"That asshole? He can wait." Bruce smirked, furrowing his brow. "So, how'd your meeting go? By the looks of your cleavage and that little glimmer in your eye, I'd say it went well."

"It went better then well, and I'm going to celebrate," I said with my eyes fixed on one disheveled asshole. "Go provide good customer service. It looks like he's had a bad day."

"You're looking at him like you're about to devour him," he said, winking. "Madison on the prowl is hot. He won't stand a chance, but let it go on the record that I declared him an asshole."

"Give him his drink," I said, stepping back from the bar. "Oh…" I turned back around, staring him straight in the eye. "Don't make me pull out the organizational chart again. Mention my cleavage again, and I'll fire you, or worse, I'll have you do inventory with dyslexic Arnie."

Bruce and I had a very good working relationship. We understood each other for the most part. Bruce occasionally needed some reminding of who was running the show.

I took my time, eyeing the mysterious man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. I never limited myself. I walked around, perusing the crowd and making sure that everything was running perfectly. Yes, Martini Bar was a well-oiled machine. I was damn proud of what I'd accomplished here. We were located off of Brickell, catering to a professional crowd. They came after work, hungry and thirsty, and I made sure to meet their needs. I couldn't wait to share the good news with Grandfather, so I dashed back to my office to make the call.

When I was finishing up on the phone, I noticed on the monitor that Chris Giordano was talking to my lonely patron. This was perfect. Chris was in marketing, catering primarily to the nightclub industry. We'd worked together on a few events. He was a good guy with a reputation for being a bit of a man whore. He liked to fuck and so did I. It never bothered me and lines were never crossed. I didn't shit where I ate. Not anymore, anyway.

I meandered around the bar until I came up and rested on Chris's shoulder and said hello. I looked over at our stray puppy and caught a glance of his hazel eyes before he turned back to stare at his drink.

"So Chris, are you going to introduce me to your friend?" I asked.

"Sure. Madison Stuart, this is Rick Marin. Rick, this is Madison. She's the manager," Chris said.

He looked up at me, tilting his head to the side. "Madison," he said impassively.

"Yes, Madison," I said, winking, "as in the Avenue."

He chuckled rudely with a smirk. "Madison, as in the Avenue, I'm not buying what you're selling."

"Who said I was selling anything?" Bruce was right—he was an asshole, but he oozed sex appeal from every cell in his body.

Sitting back in his stool, he said, "Maddy, I know what you want." He reached for his drink, polishing off the glass, and leaned over toward me.

"Oh really, you think you know what I want," I huffed. He was rude and arrogant. "And don't call me Maddy."

"Maddy," he said slowly. "I know exactly what you want." His eyes traveled up my body erotically as if they were mapping out the path his hands, maybe his tongue, would take. I could feel the sensation of his visual touch, and my heart started beating faster.

"You're standing there with your tits begging me to reach out and rub them, lick them, and pinch them." I kept my gaze on him neutral, but as much of an arrogant son of a bitch as he was being, he was fucking hot. I could ignore this bullshit just to feel his dick inside of me. I'd never give him the time of day afterwards.

"You want me to stick my hand in your pants right now and feel your pussy, and I know it's wet." He finished his drink. "And you know that I can find your G-spot and make you come right here in front of everyone."

I licked my lower lip, biting it ever so softly. He wasn't worth the fuck, but there was something in his eyes that caught my attention. "You're an asshole." I looked him square in the eye, smiling. "I like you. Bruce, get Rick another drink, on the house."

He was lucky I was in a good mood. Otherwise, I would've put him in his place. I went about my own business when I saw a blonde approach him. This was good. She was angry and going off on him. Yes, that was exactly what he deserved. The only thing I got from their conversation was that he needed to stay away from some woman.

Bruce walked over to where I was at. "You're kidding. You didn't get enough of tall, dark, and jerky?"

"He's an asshole. You get a point for that one, but there's something about his eyes. I really don't know. Maybe it's the color."

"His eyes are the color of stagnant lake water. He's not a stray dog, and if he was, please take him straight to animal control." He rolled his eyes and threw his bar towel over his shoulder.