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I huff, taking in David’s words. He doesn’t know Mik like I do. She doesn’t want love and nurturing. The girl is wild, a feral animal that can’t be tamed.
“You should leave too.” I tell my father once David has gone.
I want them all out of here, I want everyone gone. I need another moment alone with Mik, need to feel her underneath me.
I need to fix this.
He huffs, downing the remainder of his cognac and standing up. “I assume I don’t need to remind you—”
“Then why are you?” I cut him off.
His dark eyes narrow in on me. “Noah,” he sighs. “I will not have my son going to jail, so fix this or I will, and you won’t like how I do it.” He slams the rocks glass down on my desk and heads for the door, letting it close loudly behind him.
Finally, I can breathe.
I slump my shoulders, let my hands sprawl on the wood of my desk as I suck in the air I feel like I’ve been missing the whole time he was here. I can’t stand to be in his presence, but he doesn’t give me much of a choice.
He’s trying to groom me, his only son, to take over the family business. To learn how to trade in more than money, but in words, backroom deals, and handshakes. Bancroft Company is my father's life work, and investment firm with a hand in every pot you can think of.
I head upstairs to find Mik, but my room is empty. I told her to stay, not to leave, not to wander, but she listens for shit.
I find her sprawled out on the guest bed, two rooms away from mine.
She doesn’t see me, so I take th
e moment to revel in her. She looks calmer than she did earlier. Relaxed against the comforter. I lean against the doorframe and watch her.
Damn, how I’ve missed her. Her sassy mouth, her silly quips. I miss her smile, her laugh. I miss having her in my bed.
I’ve been missing Mikaela Wilder for almost a whole year now.
“You didn’t listen.” I say after a moment.
She sits up, propping herself up with her arms and looking at me. “Have I ever?”
I feel a grin rise on my face. “Nope.”
She shrugs. “Can I go home?”
“No, baby,” I stalk closer to her, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her.
She flips a strand of her blonde hair over her shoulder. It used to be lighter, her roots have grown in and it’s clear that she hasn’t had it touched up or colored in a while. I wonder if it's been a whole year, has her self-care suffered since that night?
I reach for a piece of it, longing to feel the silky strand between my fingertips but she flinches and moves away.
“What are you doing, Noah?” she asks. She looks confused, watching me, like she doesn’t know what to expect. Maybe she doesn’t.
“I miss you, baby girl.” I tell her.
She looks away from me. “I don’t miss you.”
“You’re a liar.” I snap, reaching out to grab her face and turning it back to meet mine. There are tears gathering at the corners of her green eyes, pooling there, waiting to fall. “I know you missed me, baby.” I lean in, close enough to get a whiff of her scent, vanilla and honey. She smells sweet, and I want to settle into that scent. Finding home with her wrapped around me.
She tries to pull her face out of my grip, but I pinch her chin harder, holding her in place.
“You always liked it rough, baby. If I touched you right now would you be wet for me?”
She hisses, pulling her face out of my grip. “Get the fuck away from me, Noah.” She growls, scurrying back, off the bed, standing so we’re on either side of the queen mattress.
