Unwrapped Kisses

FOR ONCE, I wish I had a roommate so I could have someone to complain to. Instead, I’m pacing around my luxury apartment, yelling at the plush lobster doll I bought on my trip to Maine last summer.

“I can’t believe him! What was he thinking? First I’m a gold-digging whore and now he wants to help me start my business? Like I’m not capable, right?”

I look down and realize I’m wearing the pants his assistant brought over and immediately sit down on the couch and pull them off. I’m about to stuff them in the garbage when I realize a better option—I go to the window and toss them out into the street.

“Poor little Faith and her little startup company needs help from Lance Frost and his big candy-making empire!”

If only stuffed animals could talk.

“Ugh, what was I thinking!?”

Like the drama queen I apparently am, I slide off the couch and collapse onto the floor, holding my head in my hands. I never liked the ceiling in this apartment—stucco that is supposedly “in” right now but always looked cheap to me. It never really bothered me that bad, but right now I hate it. Right now I could take a sledge hammer to the ceiling if only I could reach it.

How can I even go back to work for him now after what happened?

Not only did I fuck him, but I also just did the walk of shame in front of the entire staff and basically told him to go screw himself. Whatever. I never wanted to be his secretary anyway. I’ll just have to start my company a bit faster than I had planned.

Filled with a new fire, I get to my feet and head over to my laptop. As I open it, there’s a loud knock on the door. I freeze. The only people who know where I live are my mom and dad. Deliveries are left downstairs, so there shouldn’t be anyone at my door ever.

“Faith?”

Shit. It’s Lance. For a second, I wonder how even knows where I live, but then I remember he’s a billionaire and could probably get my medical records if he wanted to.

“Go away,” I grumble, folding my arms across my chest.

“I don’t think I will,” he replies calmly.

“Go away!”

So I’m being a brat. Sue me.

“I’ll shoulder this door down if I have to,” he says. “So unless you want to hire a locksmith, get up and let me in.”

I suddenly remember why I totally hate him sometimes. I want to protest, just to spite him, but I also don’t want to spend the night in a hotel while my lock is being repaired, so I get up and open the door for him. It’s obnoxious that just how good-looking he is makes it hard for me to be mad at him.

Again, I cross my arms and wait for his condescending speech on how I’m being an overly emotional woman or whatever.

“I’m sorry.” Okay, wasn’t expecting that. And I guess that’s written all over my face, because Lance smiles. “I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t do it yourself; I just wanted to help.”

I hate the fact that he’s managing to calm me down with such ease. Normally, when I’m upset about something, I stay upset about it because I’m right to be upset. But Lance is making me wonder if I overreacted.

“Well…you don’t have to,” I reply. “I can do things on my own.”

“I know you can.” He nods. “But would you at least come take a look at the space with me? Maybe once you see it, I can convince you to take it.”

“No, I won’t take it,” I say quickly. Which is true. But I also don’t want to just close the door on him. And inviting him in would be the absolute wrong thing to do right now. He has to know that he’s upset me and that he can’t just come over and romance me every time he does something wrong. “But I’ll come with you just to see it. Maybe in the future I’ll rent it for myself.”

Lance smiles and nods, and I follow him downstairs to his car. This time, he’s driving a blazing orange Ferrari. No Rolls. No driver. Just us.

“Hop in,” he says with a smile.

“A Ferrari in the winter? I sure hope you know how to drive.”

“I’m a man.” He winks. “Of course I do.”

Enraged and turned on, I get in with him, and he speeds off, driving far faster than I think is safe in the snow and the ice. I want to tell him to cool it, but I know that’s why he’s doing it, so I keep quiet. Eventually, we arrive at a large, renovated warehouse building. He pulls up in the side lot and parks. When we get inside, I can’t help but get excited.

The space is gorgeous, filled with tons of natural light that spills in through wall-to-wall windows on one side, and the hardwood floors have been refinished and gleam like they’ve been coated with caramel. I can practically envision the various stations for candy-making. There’s even a little office room built into one corner.