Wasted Love with You (Wasted Love 1)

The anonymous owner was so impressed that he quadrupled my fee and sent me six more, and shortly after, I had new instruments to fix every week. Mostly his, but a lot of others via word of mouth.

He never gave me his name, always delivered his requests via courier with a short ‘Thanks’ note, and a woman always dropped off the payment without saying a word.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I look up at Mister R, and his expression confirms that he’s reached the same conclusion.

“I believe this calls for another use of that term you tried to use previously.” He smirks. “What was it again?”

I ignore that question. “What happened to using a courier service to get it to the store because you don’t like being out in public?”

“I still don’t, but my assistant is sick and I’m shorthanded.” He moves closer, pushing a few strands of hair away from my face, setting every nerve in my body on fire. “I have an important question that I desperately need to ask.”

“You don’t strike me as the type that waits for permission.”

“Are you single yet?”

“What?”

“You heard me.” He glances at my left hand. “You wore your ring on the wrong finger at my party, and today you’re not wearing it at all.” He pauses, and I’m not sure whether I should be impressed or concerned by his attention to detail. “Any guy in his right mind would never want you to take it off if you were his, let alone allow you to get anywhere near me, so there must not be a steady relationship.”

“There isn’t anymore, but I’m starting to think that your visit today is far from a coincidence.”

“I just told you that I look into the things I like.”

“Who’s the stalker now?”

He smiles. “Let’s consider this part of my visit more of a necessary background check.”

I raise my eyebrow, and he pulls a business card from his pocket.

“I have to be extremely thorough when it comes to whoever I let in my house,” he says, placing it into the front pocket of my pants. “According to my advisor, a ‘Ms. Autumn Jane’ has an interview for a position at my estate next week, but that’s business for later. The initial intention behind my visit was personal.”

I swallow. “You think that the first thing I should do after getting a divorce and starting my life over is give someone else a try?”

“Only if the ‘someone else’ is me…”

The bell over the door rings and a new customer walks inside, but neither of us turns away from each other.

“Look,” I say. “I know you’re probably used to getting whatever you want—whenever you want—but the guy usually has to make the first move if he’s interested.”

“I was planning to when I saw you at my party.” He lowers his voice, looking torn between taking me down on the spot and walking away. “You decided that you needed to leave.”

“You agreed.”

“I shouldn’t have.” He places a few hundred-dollar bills on top of the violin before closing what’s left of the gap between us. “Looking forward to your call.”

“Do you have a first name that you want me to use, or should I just keep mentally referring to you as ‘Mister R’?”

“No.” His lips curve into a smile. “I’ve never really appreciated my first name.”

“You’re still not telling it to me.”

“I’d prefer if you called me Ryder.”

“I have a feeling that’s your nickname.”

“It is.”

“You’re making this extremely difficult.”

“I promise it’ll be easy.” He trails a finger against my bottom lip, tracing every curve of my mouth. “It’s Edward.”

“Edward Ryder?”

“Edward Rochester.”

Why does that sound like a name I’ve read somewhere before?

“You probably have.” He reads my mind and moves his hand away. My body instantly longs for more of his touch.

“I think it’s a conflict of interest for me to take an interview at your estate.” I can’t help but blurt out, now remembering that the person who called me to schedule it never gave me any details about the position. And he never mentioned anything about Mister R being the true client.

“Then don’t bother coming,” he says. “I can easily find you via another coincidence.”

“Is randomly showing up at my job what you had in mind when you said you’d ‘handle’ me at our next meeting?”

“No, you’ll be under me whenever I do that.” He steps back and looks me over one last time. “I’ll be waiting… unless you take too long.”

End of Episode 7

Episode 8

Autumn

Five days later

Raindrops tap dance against the front windows at Crafts & Notes, splattering and splashing to the sound of Chopin’s waltz.

Mister R’s pickup appointment is minutes away, and I’m desperate to see his gorgeous face again. Desperate to rack up new inspiration for my late-night fantasies.

I’ve longed to feel his lips against every inch of my skin, longed to know what it would feel like if his hands gripped my waist from behind while he fucked me, but I haven’t called to make it a reality.