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Shock hits me, he can’t have said what I thought he said. He nods, as if I’ve spoken. “Marry me. For two years I’ve wanted no one and nothing as badly as I’ve wanted you. Every time I looked at the gold band on your finger, I wanted to yank it off and beat the hell out of the man who’d gotten to you before me. I hated this unknown man as much as I hated myself for burning and wanting another man’s wife. Crazy thoughts of wanting to know everything about him, then the next moment knowing I didn’t dare. I wouldn’t stop myself from destroying him simply for having you when I couldn’t.
Marriage isn’t something I ever thought I would do again. Yet I’ve grown to love the idea of my ring on your finger. My ring telling all other men you’re mine and they can’t touch you. I don’t want one night with you, I want your days and everything else I can get. There will have to be a prenup, I won’t be stingy. When it ends, I’ll make sure you’ll be provided for.”
He had me, I can’t believe I was about to open my mouth to say yes. How the fuck could I say yes to a command like that? Still, I was going to. Hearing him confess to the long nights of desperate need, I understood all too well, and it had me melting. Until he mentioned the prenup and it being over. It wasn’t the prenup, men as rich as Drake Hawthorne aren’t stupid enough to marry without a prenup, especially after how badly his last marriage ended. It was understandable he’d want one considered airtight, the second time around.
I would have willingly signed on the dotted line to have him. Knowing he was already seeing the end before we even began is what has me pulling away and he lets me go. His smile is satisfied, he thinks he’s going to get his way. Men like him always get their way. A tiny kick of pleasure at denying someone as powerful as Drake gives me the backbone I need. I straighten and look him in the eye, “Thank you for the offer, Mr. Hawthorne, I’m going to decline. If you need anything further, please ring the desk.”
He’s surprised, giving me the time I need to escape his room. Drake catches up to me at the elevator. His hand on my wrist is almost punishing, I flinch. He lets go when he sees it. “What the hell did you just say to me?”
I don’t dare look at him, keeping my eyes on the progress of the elevator. “I said, no. If you need anything further, please ring the desk.”
He yanks me around to face him. “Explain that ‘no’ after you kissed me like you wanted to fuck me for days.”
I blush at his words, because of how graphic and how true they were. “Mr. Hawthorne, I don’t have to explain anything. You asked me a question, I said no.” The elevator arrives and I sigh with relief. “Please be a gentleman and take it with grace.”
I step in and he follows me. Fighting to hold back tears of frustration, I berate myself. Why the hell did I allow that kiss?
“I’ve never pretended to be a gentleman, and grace is for losers too pathetic to go after what they want. You want me, Ria, as badly as I want you. What the hell is going on inside your damned head? Tell me!”
The doors are about to open, I say the only thing I can think of. One more lie is all I have left. “I have a son, I don’t want him anywhere near someone as crass and domineering as you are. Please leave me alone.” I plead, as I get out of the elevator. He’s shocked, so shocked he doesn’t move when the doors close.
A guest is waiting, the questions Latisha wants to ask have to wait as she handles the irate guest, who is complaining about the bed not being comfortable. It takes long enough for me to get it together, and fend off her questions and innuendo when we’re finally alone. She’s cranky for the rest of the night. I ignore it. After three long years working together, we’re friends enough I know she’ll forgive me by tomorrow night.
The whole night I’m tense, waiting for Drake to make another attempt. By the time I clock out, he doesn’t. I tell myself I’m glad, I’m not.
Chapter Two
It’s a little after six in the morning as I get off the El at my stop in Evanston. Pulling out my mace, I clutch it for my walk home. The sun hasn’t completely risen yet, weak grey light is only barely washing over the city. Although the walk isn’t far, the one morning I had left my mace in my purse I had someone following me. Thankfully, a policeman had seen the man following me and stopped him. It had been a relief and something I doubt would have happened in the city. Evanston is on the El meeting with the city of Chicago, but often it feels like another world. Once I’m home, I wash my face, patting myself down with cool water. I’m still a little puffy from crying on the way home, thankfully, Justin isn’t the most observant in the morning.
I hear his alarm going off and make my way into the kitchen. Pulling out the eggs and bread for his breakfast, I’m beating the eggs when I hear his alarm go off again. Looking at the clock, I sigh, of course it’s going to be one of those mornings.
Setting down the bowl, I take a deep breath. Ever since he failed the test for MIT he’d been down, almost depressed. With two more months of school, I know he’s struggling to get through them. It was a normal response to the loss of his biggest hope. I have t
o keep that in mind, it was hard for him to fail. Even if it was hard for me not to show my relief, he was only thirteen. Going off to MIT so young just didn’t seem right to me. I know the moment he’d hit the campus he’d wade into numbers and never come out again. I also hadn’t gotten the job to transfer to one of the hotels in the area. I don’t want him going out there alone. I want him to have as close to a normal teenage fun-filled life as he can have. I’d missed out on it, I didn’t want him to. Even if he isn’t normal because he’s a genius.
Knocking on his door, I give it a minute. Then let myself in at the grunt of acknowledgement. He’s pulled up the covers over his head. “Justin, you’re going to be late.”
No answer comes, I remember how the mornings had been like this when he was little, before he’d been tested and put into the gifted program. He would beg me not to have to go to school, and ask for a cuddle. He’d hated school, and his teachers had hated having him there. He’d been such a handful and I understood their annoyance with him. At first, I had done the physical route, getting his eyes checked, then a check-up with the doctor. The doctor had suggested having him tested. The school had been willing and the tests had come back off the charts. He’d been labeled a little genius and his boredom with the too easy curriculum as the cause of his acting out. After he’d settled into the program, his grades and attitude had changed.
I pull up the covers and get into bed with him. Almost immediately he relaxes. He doesn’t exactly hug me back, only allows me to hug him close. At thirteen, he’s four inches taller and twenty pounds heavier than I am. Right now he’s a kid who needs to know someone is there for him. After last night, I’m feeling the need for a little reassurance myself. Justin’s happiness is worth the sacrifice of a few nights with Drake Hawthorne. I had so little to gain, so much to lose, even if it did ache. The ache would go away, it always did.
“You’ve been crying.”
Shaking my head, I kiss him on the forehead. “No, I haven’t. Come on, up or you’ll be late for school.”
Ignoring his searching look, I get out of bed and go over to his closet. He’s up, he hates me picking out his clothes. “You’ve been crying. Why, is it mom? Did she find us?”
“No, she hasn’t found us. Go take a shower and brush your teeth. Your eggs are going to be scrambled this morning with toast. Sorry, I forgot to get more orange juice this morning.”
The morning flies by, evasive tactics are all I have. While Justin is in the shower I grab an icepack and hold it to my eyes. Hoping the puffiness will go down. Finally, he’s out the door and I get ready for bed. It’s hard to fall asleep. My mind won’t stop going over those moments with Drake, his kiss, my saying no to a dream. It’s a dream though, I don’t have time for dreams. I give up and take a sleeping pill.
My alarm goes off an hour before Justin is due home from school. I’m moving slowly as I head to the grocery store. Shopping doesn’t take long, getting his juice along with a few other things, I pick up a dvd for the night. It was so hard to get him out of his books, maybe the movie would help.
That night I don’t have to beg, Justin settles onto the couch with me after dinner and we watch the movie. He seems to enjoy it. While I’m getting ready for work, he’s still on the couch with the remote instead of running for his books and his room. He nods at my usual warnings, hugging me goodbye.
I hate having to go in early, before it gets dark. Even though I don’t have work for almost another hour, but it wasn’t safe any other way. A few times I’ve tried going in while it was dark. The only thing that had kept something bad from happening was the mace. Another time, there had been too many people for the guy to take the chance. Often, I’ve looked in the mirror and don’t see my own appeal.
I’m a boring five foot four, with plain brown eyes and long brown hair. I’m pretty, not beautiful, in a city where there were actual models roaming around. I don’t understand why I had such a problem keeping the men off me. Latisha said it was because I’m girl next door pretty, like it would be easy to get with me. I have a heart shaped face, a small nose, round, high cheekbones with lips I thought were too wide and full. Latisha told me that my lips were my best feature. Also I never wear makeup, even though I’m pale and it should make me look worse. My skin is bright and I’m lucky to not have to deal with bad skin. I’m a size six without working for it and have what had once been referred to as lush curves. I’m sure my curves are really the appeal. It’s one of the reasons why I wear my uniform to and from work, it’s boring and bland and hides most of my curves. Outside of work, I kept to loose-fitting and flowing as a means of hiding, and finally figured out what worked.
