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I snap my hands away from my frames and bring them down to my legs. I want to smack the smugness off his face.
“Why are you here?”
“Are you really asking me that question?”
“Yes, I am. I have a business to run and work to do.” I scramble to answer, in a weak attempt to cover up the quivering in my voice.
“Look, I know you don’t care about us. You made that quite clear when you left all hush-hush to do God knows what. But I deserve an explanation. I’ve been waiting nine years for it, and until I get it, I am not gonna leave you alone.” His words are blanketed in anger and hurt, even all these years later.
His declaration hurts. None of what he believes is true. But he’s right; he deserves an explanation, just not right now. I can’t give it to him here in my office with my assistant right outside the door and an office full of people I barely know. This is way too emotional of a conversation to have here. I cannot have a meltdown in my office.
“Despite what you think, Massimo, that’s not true,” I say, the words a hushed statement falling from my lips. Tears burn at my eyes, begging to be let free.
“Well then, Lena, why don’t you enlighten me?” he quips as he scoots his chair closer to lean on the desk. “What is the truth behind your sudden and unexpected disappearance from my life?”
“Massimo.” I shimmy forward in my chair and rest my arms on the desk, bringing my face inches away from his. I’m playing with fire, and with Massimo, I’ll get burned. I’ve never been able to resist his energy and the pull he has over me. “I know you deserve to know the truth, and I am gonna give it to you, all of it. But that cannot happen right now, for many reasons, but mostly because I have a meeting after you leave.”
“Many reasons,” he repeats, contemplating my words. Massimo tilts his head slightly to the right, purses his lips, and runs his index and forefingers back and forth over his bottom lip. His eyes never leave mine as he searches for a response in them, studying me. He pushes his hands down onto my desk and stands, nudging the chair back with his leg.
He steps to his right, dragging his left hand along the desk while slowly circling it until he’s standing to my left. With his right hand, he swivels my chair and lifts my chin, guiding my head up. I tremble under his touch. His hand stops when my eyes lock on his.
He bends down, bringing his lips to my left ear, and whispers, “Lena.” My eyes close, memories of all the times he whispered words of love or sexual desire in my ear flashback through my mind. He pauses, his breath tickling my ear. “You want more time—” he gently skims his lips along my earlobe “—I’ll give you time, even if you don’t deserve it.”
His breath is hot as he speaks, and my eyes flutter closed again in response. I squeeze my legs together to quell the tingling sensation. His lips graze the skin below my ear, and he drags them along my jawline until he’s hovering over my mouth.
He rests his forehead against mine—eye to eye, nose to nose, breath to breath. We’re still for several seconds, and it’s slow, fucking torture.
My heart is bursting.
Racing.
Palpitating.
My breath is short and fast.
Massimo stokes the fire within me by bringing his lips to mine and resting them there, his breath searing me.
“Lena,” he mutters.
“Massimo,” I whisper back.
As quickly as his lips brushed mine, they’re gone, and suddenly I feel cold.
And just like that, Massimo has pushed all my buttons. I am drunk on desire and need. I cannot think straight after feeling him close to me. My heart races and my mind is a flurry of thoughts, thoughts clouded by the yearning need for him.
“Lena,” he says again, pulling away from me, a glint in his eyes and an arrogant grin sprawled across his face. “You have until tomorrow after work. We can meet wherever you like, but I’m done waiting,” he commands as he lifts up and away from me.
“Oh…okay,” I stutter, still coming down from my Massimo-induced high.
“Six o’clock at The Vault over on Water Street,” he says as he starts walking away.
Massimo stops and glances back at me. “Don’t be late,” he says and struts out of my office.
After work, I drive to Newton to visit my parents. I haven’t seen them in a week, and my father called me this morning to invite me to dinner. The drive westbound on the Pike is stacked with traffic. It never used to be this bad.
My iPod is on shuffle, and the music is keeping me company. Although it does very little to silence the thoughts of Massimo. When “Sad” by Maroon 5 starts playing, I turn up the volume. As usual, the song makes me question whether I chose the right path or not, and whether I will ever find another man like Massimo. Tears slide down my cheeks, the lyrics echoing my emotions.
Seeing him today was unexpected, and again, he got me all worked up. I need to get my act together to have a normal conversation with him without getting all flustered. I did notice he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, though. Was he wearing one the other day at the market? I don’t remember and will have to pay attention when I see him tomorrow. Does him not wearing one mean he isn’t married? Everything I remember about him tells me he’s the type of guy who’d wear a band. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but hope is all I have left right now.
