We fininsihed, and slowed, and she stayed in my lap for a while. We breathed. I looked out the windows to make sure nobody saw—and it wouldn’t have mattered if they had. Desmond’s house remained dark, the neighborhood remained quiet. She kissed my neck.
“I think I might’ve left a mark,” she said, and laughed, and kissed me where she’d driven her teeth into my skin. “Sorry about that.”
I touched her cheek and kissed her. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll pay you back.”
She grinned, cheeks flushed, and slowly pulled away. I wished she wouldn’t, but I didn’t stop her as she climbed back to her seat and got dressed again. I pulled on my pants, and we sat there, smiling at each other like idiots.
“How do you feel now?” she asked.
“Not so angry anymore. I wonder why.”
“Funny how that happens. I guess I’m just a good listener.”
“You’re good at something, anyway.” I took her hand in mind and held it. She turned and looked back at Desmond’s house, and I had the sudden urge to start the engine and drive. We could get away from here and leave him behind—forget about revenge and the company, forget about the rumors and Lady Fluke, forget about everything but her.
And of course I’d never do it. Even despite all my anger, my pent-up rage at the world, I wouldn’t walk away. I had too many responsibilities and owed too many people, and I wanted to bring Millie into my world, even if that world was rough and judgmental and harsh. I wanted her by my side, so I could see something better, through her eyes at least.
“What now?” she asked. “Should we just go up and knock?”
“No,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Let’s go back to the hotel for now.”
“Are you sure?” She frowned and looked back at me, head tilted, leaning close. “I’ll go with you, if you want. We can get it over with right here and now. We don’t have to sit around and feel shitty.”
I laughed and adjusted my seat, getting close to the steering wheel again. “I don’t plan on feeing shitty tonight.”
“What do you plan on doing then?” she asked, and put her seatbelt on.
I started the engine. “I plan on destressing,” I said, and glanced at her. “And I plan on using you to do it.”
She smiled, and it was goofy and endearing, like she couldn’t believe her luck—and I felt the same way, like I’d stumbled onto something right for the first time in my life.
I pulled slowly away, leaving Desmond’s house behind. I wasn’t finished with him, but I wasn’t dealing with him, not yet at least. Soon I’d ask him all the questions I’d been saving for all these years, and tell him what I thought he needed to hear, but first I had Millie, and I had a company to save.
21
Millie
Rees treated me to breakfast in bed the next morning—deep black coffee and a stack of pancakes bigger than any human should eat. I had half, and he had the other half, and we lounged in bed, groaning and full, like two stuffed bears.
“We should shower,” he said, stretching. The night before was a blur of him, so much of him, and a bottle of champagne, and a second bottle—and more of him. A slight pulsing headache tapped at my skull, but it was worth it.
“Why?” I asked. “Let’s stay in bed for a while.”
He kissed me and stood, stretching with a groan. “I wish I could, but we have to get to a meet in an hour.”
“Desmond?” I sat up and looked at him, the sheets falling off my bare chest. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept without a top on, but for some reason being with him made me feel free and confident in a way I’d never felt before.
“Not Desmond,” he said, smiling a little like he had a secret, and walked to the bathroom door. He leaned against the frame and looked back at me. “Someone else. Someone with money.”
“You found another investor?”
“Of course I did.” He disappeared inside and I heard the water turn on. “Now get your pretty ass in here.”
I laughed and scrambled out of bed, and we cleaned each other, and did some other filthy things. Within the hour, we dressed and went downstairs, and instead of heading out to get the car, he swept me into the dining room, and sat me down in a table in the far corner. He ordered coffee, then looked over his shoulder at the door.
“Who are we waiting for?” I asked.
“His name is Alec Biggin,” he said, and glanced at me with a frown. “The last name isn’t a joke.”
“I didn’t think—“ I started to say when a massive man caught my eye.
He stepped into the dining room wearing a deep black suit. He was tall, probably twice my height, and his shoes shone in the light in a way I’d never seen before—like they almost sparkled. He had light brown skin and bright, smiling eyes, and a bald head. He scanned the room, spotted Reese, and marched over, his grin getting even bigger.