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2021-10-31 20:00:48Angela
The tips of my fingers rub my forehead, slowly massaging my temples as if to conjure myself back into a state of peace and normalcy. She's having a headache right now, I slide my reading glasses off and drop them onto my desk together with a bunch of document that needs my signature. An exasperated huff exists in my mouth when the clock of my phone reads its quarter to ten.
'Hey, honey. Are you in Cebu right now? Call me if you are free, okay? Is Thomas okay? Love you both, can't wait to be with you and Thomas.' I automatically sent my message to Sebastian.
"Meredith, will you please come in," I press the intercom, calling my secretary. "And, please bring the papers that Mr. Takahashi, needs to sign."
"Coming right away," she responded.
I heard a knock on the door, and later on, my secretary pops her head in. My forehead knot when I saw how nervous Mere
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"You do? Let me guess, Grilled cheese is not the one you missed, right?" I asked and winked at her. Teasing her will be my favorite thing in the morning. And we don't always have this kind of circumstance so I can say that this is one of those rare mornings. She huffs and folds her arms across her chest, “It’s not the same...thing.” Her words are quite unsure. "Good morning, Aunt Maria how's your sleep?" Thomas greets her happily. Maria looked at me first with a playful smile, before she answered Thomas's question. "I sleep well, sweetie. How about you?" She came close to Thomas. Kiss the top of his head and sat down on the empty chair opposite where Thomas is. "I can't sleep properly, I'm worried about mum. Did she call you Aunt Mari
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Determined not to notice how good he looked, “Is there a problem?” I asked. “Interesting neighborhood.” He just said it like an insult. I lived in the eclectic south Oroville neighborhood of Oak Cliff. My street was full of funky, aging houses, some of which—like me—were being carefully renovated, and others of which hovered in a state of negligent disrepair. This part of town had a terrible reputation, although it was far safer now than it had been a couple of decades ago. “Thanks.” I smiled, pretending to mistake his comment for a compliment, as I stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.&nbs
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I swallowed my coffee, grimacing at the taste. It had gone cold. And I knotted my silk tie with one hand, finished up the cold coffee, and headed out of the door. A quick glance at my Rolex watch confirmed that with luck and good traffic perhaps, I could make it to the airport to meet Roxanne’s flight and still be at my desk by ten—a very late start for me, but being the boss did have certain privileges. There were people who considered my life as one long privilege. A son of a Conde, and the only person who doesn’t want to inherit the title that my father was still holding right now. People would say that I am lucky that I was born with a silver spoon. And some people went further, like the actress I had been meant to escort to a premiere the previous n
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I was famed for my power of analytical deduction, but I had not seen this one coming! “You are shocked. I knew you would be,” my old school friend announced with darkly pessimistic gloom. “I am surprised,” I corrected him, cause honestly, that is how I feel. “But if I was shocked, would it matter? Roxanne has not been my wife for quite some time. You do not require my blessing or my permission.” “I know, but the thing is, I think she feels guilty about finding her happiness.” “I think you are imagining things,” I said, wondering if I ought not at some level to feel a
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Beatrice Walker “But I need you here tonight!” He shouted. I was not surprised to hear the aggrieved note tinged with truculence in my boss’s voice. Benedict Walker had not made his millions by allowing little things like air-traffic controllers’ strikes to stand in his way and he expected his staff to display an equally robust response to such obstacles to his wishes, even when that member of the staff was his own daughter. Actually, especially when that employee was his daughter! “I am sorry, dad.”&nbs
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A loud announcement on the speaker system drowned out my wailed protest of, “Oh, God, no, don’t do that!” half protest, half yelling at my father. And yet he didn’t hear me. “I’ve lost touch since Alejandro Sancho retired from the business world. This could be the perfect opportunity to reconnect, and I’m sure Preston could arrange accommodation for you.” “I wouldn’t want to trade in our relationship.” Ignoring the sarcasm of my retort, my father mused thoughtfully, “The Sancho family has strong South American connections, connections that could be very us
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“Mr. Sancho,” I muttered. “I was just talking about you.” And I raised the phone that I still held in a white knuckled grip.He just fucking kissed me.Two years didn’t change him. He looked perhaps a little leaner, a little harder, the angles and planes of his incredible face perhaps more sharply defined. But basically, he was still the same.But I am not the old Beatrice. I’ve moved on, and became wiser. I reminded myself.He just kissed you. My brain keeps on saying this.Preston is just standing in front of me waiting for his breathing to return to something approximating normal and watched me, fascinated to see denial this up close. Yeah, he may brand me as a denial queen. But I don’t mind, I’ll keep doing this is I want to.I was just addressing my remarks to some point over his shoulder, and my attractive contralto voice had an audible edge of hysteria. Though, the open neck of my
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I wanted to slap his hand away. I wanted to tell him that I had no desire to know him. I wanted to tell him to stop looking at me like that. I never thought that his eyes could be this expressive, and it’s drowning me. “Stop looking—” As his mouth covered my own for a second time, my strength left my body in one whoosh. If his one hand had not curled like a supportive steel band around my ribcage, dragging my body up against his iron-hard thighs, I would have slid to the ground. His kisses always make me weak.&
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I squashed the flash of sympathy I felt for him. It might explain why, but it did not begin to excuse the way he had used me. “It is in the cards, though uncertain as yet. You sound surprise to me?” “I am.” Not as surprised as I had been when I had learned that the couple who had seemed a perfect match on every level were breaking up. Until the moment that the divorce had been announced, I had expected a dramatic reconciliation, but the Sancho divorce, like the break-up. Had been low key and bizarrely amicable based on what they called a mutual decision. But had that mutual, civilized, still-good-friend
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Preston’s I am not following this instinct that had taken an enormous chunk of my willpower, but the effort had faded into irrelevance beside the will power I had needed to tap into just to stop myself from taking Beatrice in my arms to comfort her. Just the sight of her standing there, white-faced and shaking, looking so vulnerable and fragile, had awoken every protective instinct I had and some new ones. While she had struggled not to cry, I had struggled to keep my distance. I hadn’t allowed myself to even touch her. I just couldn’t. if I had known it wouldn’t have stopped at comforting her. I
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My brows lifted. “What are you talking about now? Cheated…?” I asked irritably. “You are not making any sense.” Her face scrunched in an effort to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. She lifted her chin and blinked hard. “Well, so sorry,” she drawled, “if I’ve lost my edge of clinical objectively, but I’ve never been in this situation before.” “And you think I have?” “Yes, I get it. You don’t need to spell it out.” She had been slow, but the penny had finally dropped. She knew why I was acting this way. “You th
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“Was I drunk?” My simmering hostility in my manner as much as abrupt question made Beatrice blink numerous times. “What?” My eyes flashed. “Was I forcing myself on you? Por Dios, no, I was not!” “But, I never—” “So, at what point did I become a bad guy?” I demanded, cutting across her. “I never—” “The fact is, you were lucky enough that I was there, but you are too stubborn to admit it! You ar
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But having it spelled out to me by Brian was a different matter. “I will never tie my hair back again,” I declared, striving for ironic mockery and delivering instead something a lot closer to frenzied panic, possibly because of the husky addition of, “because I live to please you,” and that statement was uncomfortably close to the truth. “Are you going to tell me now what I’ve done to upset you?” The quiet words sent a fresh flash of anger through me. “Let me think…” I said, adopting a mystified expression as I pressed a finger to the suggestion of a cleft in my firm, rounded chin. “Could it be something to do with the fact I don’t much like being used? How do you think would I feel having my br
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Preston’s I had just filled the second champagne flute and was preparing to carry them into the bathroom with me when I heard the door open. I turned, glasses in hand, as Beatrice walked into the room, phone pressed to her ear. I noticed that she was not smiling. A man did not have to be particularly intuitive to see that Beatrice was not happy. I wondered what had occurred in the few minutes that we had been apart to account for her change of mood, but only in passing—my attention was focused on admiring how sinfully sexy she looked in a pink bra and a minuscule pair of matching silk sorts trimmed with lace. My throat was dry, my body hardened in lustful appreciation. I watched her advance. Each angry step makes her breast jiggle gently u
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If this is just a dream, I am going to stay dreaming. “I am quite hungry,” I admitted. A sweet smile plastered on my face. “I love watching you eat,” he said when I was allowing myself to be tempted by another piece of cheese. “You do it with such…relish.” “You mean I am greedy.” “So am I every time I look at you.” “I feel so guilty.” I saw the flash of annoyance cross his face and added quickly, “Not about the food or the sex, but it’s a weekday and I haven’t done a scrap of work. It&r
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My brows lifted. “What are you talking about now? Cheated…?” I asked irritably. “You are not making any sense.” Her face scrunched in an effort to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. She lifted her chin and blinked hard. “Well, so sorry,” she drawled, “if I’ve lost my edge of clinical objectively, but I’ve never been in this situation before.” “And you think I have?” “Yes, I get it. You don’t need to spell it out.” She had been slow, but the penny had finally dropped. She knew why I was acting this way. “You th
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His stare make me shiver and then I cried out loud when without a warning he pressed his face against my breast, my back arched as his tongue began to whip slowly across the peaks of my breasts, that still painfully sensitive from our recent intense lovemaking. When he loosed my hands to cup one quivering peak I tangled my fingers in his dark hair, pushing through the ebony strands still damp from our recent exertions to cradle his skull and hold him against me. My hands stayed in his hair when he lifted his head and grinned down at me. "Also there is no point trying to hide from me in a bed this small." The bed was vast but I let it pass. "I wasn't trying to hide," I protested. He arched an ironic brow, making my eyes slide guilty from his. "I was cold." "Cold?" Preston laid his hand possessively on the soft feminine curve
