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“What would that look like?” Rose asked.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “I’d probably have to look at getting a teacher’s certification. Then maybe a volunteer position or a part-time teacher’s job to get some hands-on experience. Then look into what it would take to start programs or something.”
Harrison had nodded then excused himself for a moment to make a call. It was weird, and he was cryptic when I asked him about the call.
It really didn’t matter. Rose was even more excited about this idea than I was. With her as my personal cheerleader and Harrison’s more practical help, I was enrolled in a teacher certification program within a week.
The classes were hard, and so was living on my own for the first time even if I was living in an upscale building with a doorman. But with the help of some college friends like Marco, I was acclimating to my new life of independence. I had only set the kitchen on fire twice… this week.
My life was suddenly my own. It was challenging, exciting, and sometimes a little unpredictable. The only thing I missed was him. Luc Manwarring.
Sometimes I thought I saw him or his assistant or one of his security goons out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned, they weren’t there.
My days were spent full of life and new adventures.
Classes, new restaurants, the occasional club with friends, things I had not been permitted to do while under my parents’ roof.
But at night, when everyone left for their own homes and I lay in bed, cold and alone, that was when loneliness and depression set in.
Most nights I dreamt about him, and I woke craving his touch.
I would also use my fingers to touch myself the way he’d touched me, thinking not just of the night he’d been gentle and adoring but also of the times he was rough and demanding.
More than once I had brought myself pleasure with my fingers clutched around my throat, applying just the right amount of pressure by squeezing the sides as I thought about his heavy breathing in my ear as he said the vilest things to me.
When he called me his whore, his desperate, needy slut, his good girl.
The more I thought about it, I wasn’t sure if it was the honesty in the degradation—because for him then I had been all those things—or if it was being called his.
I missed feeling like I belonged to him, and he belonged to me.
I’d only had one night sleeping next to him in his bed, but it had changed me in a way I didn’t know was possible.
Marco suggested I get over Luc by getting under a new guy. He told me to find someone with less damage and more soul, but I hadn’t met a single man who could compare to Luc Manwarring, and I was afraid I never would.
It wasn’t their fault. How could any normal man compare to someone so intense?
I had almost called him a few times, barely stopping myself, just wanting to know how he was, where he was, or what he was doing. I wanted to tell him about all the exciting things I was doing in my life. But I couldn’t. We had never really been friends. We had been pushed together, and he probably had more important things to do than listen to me, a woman he was no longer engaged to, prattle on about her insignificant life.
He’d probably forgotten about the moment I turned him down. One call to one gossip in the clubs and society women everywhere would have their daughters dolled up and parading in front of him, ready to be chosen to take my place.
***
I was on my way back from classes, heading to my apartment and thinking about stopping to get some Mexican food so I didn’t further infuriate my super by setting off the fire alarm again. I had been craving something greasy that my mother would have never let me eat in a million years. Tacos had been my current obsession. They were just the perfect food. I was focused on that when I got out of the subway and ran face-first into a very familiar suit-covered chest.
“Amelia.” Just the sound of his voice was enough to make me ache for him.
“Mr. Manwarring.” I jumped back. He raised an eyebrow. “Luc,” I corrected. “What are you doing here?”
“I just left a meeting, and I was heading home. It’s a lovely day, and I decided to walk.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
God, he smelled so good.
I didn’t even question why he had an appointment on this side of the Manhattan Bridge, or why he would walk all the way back to the Financial District. I smiled as I laced my fingers together behind my back to stop myself from reaching out to touch him.
“How are you? I heard you moved out of your parents’ house?”
