“That’s why I’m dropping you off a block away.”
She gritted her teeth. He wasn’t much of a gentleman now, was he? The rest of the car ride was in silence. When the street before the café came, he looked at her without much emotion.
“Have a good day at work,” he said simply.
She felt foolish to even expect a peck on the cheek from him. That was what couples did, not two adults who had extra benefits to their strange relationship. They weren’t even friends, how could it be called friends with benefits?
What? That was her goal now? To actually be friends with him to make “friends with benefits” real? She was twenty minutes late and she realized her wet hair hadn’t been combed in the least bit. She quietly entered the employee’s entrance, the smell of coffee immediately enveloping her. Someone walked into the locker area that was in between the pantry and the office.
“Well, someone slept in,” Mary Ann remarked. “Did you stay up late for dance practice?”
“A little,” she said sheepishly. She hoped she didn’t have the after-sex glow she had read about once, although she wouldn’t be against gorgeous hair.
“Those kids are lucky to have you teach them,” Mary Ann continued. “Why don’t you open a dance studio or something?”
“If I had the money, but I’d rather be a nurse.”
“Ah, that never-ending dream of being a nurse, taking orders from a doctor, cleaning up crap and whatnot.”
“You make it sound so dreamy.” Mikaela sighed, brushing her hair as quickly as she could.
“This is probably the first time I’ve ever seen you late in the year I’ve been here.”
“This is the first time I’ve been late since I started working here.” She sighed, silently cursing at Justin. He did this. But she bent to it.
There was a part of her that wished she just pushed him away the moment he started kissing her, then she thought about the contract, and how she loved the smell of his body wash, and how she wanted him close to her in that cold morning… She shook her head to herself. Work came first, no matter what contract she had signed.
Chapter7
The day had started of brilliantly. Justin came in his manse, fresh from a good run at the beach, sweat dripping all over his body. He was no gym fiend, but he liked to work out during the mornings, sex included. That was probably the reason why he felt so upbeat, even if he didn’t smile at anyone yet. He didn’t want muscles straining against his suit or shirt, but he wanted to look like he was competent enough to knock someone down. He actually could, since he had a brown belt in Jiu Jitsu. He had been practicing it with a private trainer, UFC certified, for four years now, and they met at least twice a week.
It was small wonder that he could easily grapple Mikaela into submission. The woman was actually easy to grapple mentally, emotionally, and physically. Did he have her deceased family to thank for that? He shook his head; his mind wasn’t in the right frame. An ego trip was in the making again, something he tried to control. He couldn’t help it. Power just came naturally to him. It was never easy to lose family, so why would he think that? He was devastated when he lost his father and he was sure Mikaela was more than devastated when she lost her whole family.
He tried to put himself in her shoes. That was why she was needy. But it didn’t show too well. He could see it in her, she wanted to be loved, like any other person, and she wanted the people she loved to stay. That was easy to read. That was why he didn’t want emotions included in their contract. Three months was pushing it too far, even. He had had her moved to a newer, bigger apartment early that morning, an apartment with a walk-in closet, because women liked that.
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He took a shower, which eased his ego trip. Nothing like a stream of cold water to bring him back on solid ground, right? He didn’t like needy women, but there was something about Mikaela that he wanted more of, aside from his lust. What was it about her? And she wasn’t even his type. He liked long legged women, women who were in the same, or nearly the same circle as his.
Skin color didn’t matter, he dated whomever he wanted. Mikaela wasn’t even the first black girl he had bedded or dated, but she was the first woman who had the most sincere and wonderful smile he had ever seen. Was it the placement of her teeth? Or her lips? He didn’t know, but he did like looking at it, and he didn’t want to dampen that grin, even if he didn’t laugh at her jokes or he didn’t feel very pleasant.
The moment he stepped into the office he saw the conundrum and he felt right at home. Years and years of working under his father and his slave driving subordinates shaped him into what he was now. He learned well and applied it well, seeing how successful his takeover had been since his father’s death. Henderson Steel didn’t even go through a temporary reshuffling of the top honchos. He immediately took over with such aplomb that the business world rejoiced in his rise. He was young, good looking, cultured, and smart. It came naturally that women would flock to him and he used this (or them), to his full advantage.
He didn’t abuse women, at least he thought he didn’t. He treated them well, paid for everything, spoiled his dates with lavish gifts, was loyal, until he decided he was fed up with things he found wrong with them. Mikaela was not an exception to this. She was a nice person who deserved someone nice as well knowing she wouldn’t survive in his cutthroat world. It was mentioned in the file that she wanted to be a nurse. Why a nurse? They worked fourteen to sixteen hour shifts to make ends meet. They faced patient after patient and doctor after doctor, all of which had different personalities. Then he thought she fit into that mold. She adjusted to anyone.
He shook his head as he opened his emails. He didn’t want his morning thoughts filled with Mikaela. He had better things to think about. And that thought came moments later with a call. An international one.
“Mother,” he greeted.
“Oh don’t you ‘mother’ me, we’re not some aristocratic family.”
“Mum,” he sighed, then he smiled. “How are you?”
“You haven’t called in two weeks,” Lydia sounded like a petulant child even if she was past fifty.
“That’s why I’m asking how you are.”
“Well, I’m fine. Aren’t you going to ask about your sisters?” she asked, trying to mask a laugh.