Black Page 8

  “Not at all. Thank you.”

  “Pasta three-way, one of your favorites.”

  Memories of dinner last night with Shae pop into my head. Her delicate lips wrapping around the fork, the gentle moan she made every time the food hit her mouth, but it’s the smile she had on her face as she fed me bites of her dinner that push their way to the forefront.

  Dante slaps my arm. “Dude, what the fuck is your problem?”

  “Language,” Mother scolds.

  I blink twice. “Nothing.” I clear my throat. “Nothing. Yes, Mother, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

  Dante opens his mouth, no doubt to probe me further. He doesn’t miss a damn thing—something he learned from our father.

  “Drop it,” I murmur, shaking my head.

  His eyes narrow, but thankfully he does, turning his attention to our mother.

  “So, not that we don’t enjoy lunch with you, because we do, but what did you want to talk to us about?” he asks.

  “Well,” she says, her dark brown eyes lighting up. “As you both know, your father and I will be celebrating our thirtieth wedding anniversary soon, and I was wondering what you two are planning. A party would be nice.”

  “Party?” we both ask at the same time.

  “Umm…” I glance at Dante, who shrugs, and then look back at my mother. “We didn’t realize you wanted a party.”

  “I do, and I can’t plan my own. The girls down at the club would have a heyday with that, so it leaves you two.”

  “This is a little sudden, don’t you think?” Dante asks. “Isn’t your anniversary next month?”

  “Yes.” The waitress drops off our food, and Mother unravels her silverware. “I’m confident you’ll come up with something. It doesn’t have to be extravagant, just something small with our family and closest friends.”

  “You do realize that Dad’s idea of closest friends is going to involve a whole slew of people we don’t normally associate with,” Dante says.

  Her smile falters as she stares at her plate. A few seconds pass before she looks up at us. “I trust you boys to invite who you feel is necessary. Hire someone to help you plan it, if you’d like. I don’t mind footing the bill, just let me know who I need to pay. In fact, I have an old high school friend who plans these sorts of parties. I’ll forward you her information.”

  “It’s not about the money, Mom,” I clarify. “We don’t mind paying for a party. It’s just that this is sudden and completely unlike you.”

  My father may be a social person, but Mother is not. Sure, she likes to hang out with her friends at the country club a couple of times a week, but that’s about as far as it goes. She isn’t into the high-society parties. “Does Dad know about it?”

  She scoffs. “Of course he knows about it. Why do you think we’re having it?” She takes a bite of her salad and pins us with an unyielding stare. “You know how your father is, always has to be the center of attention.”

  “Then where is he?” Dante quips. “Shouldn’t he be here if it’s his idea?”

  My mother takes her time swallowing her food. She dabs her mouth with a napkin and sets it in her lap. “You know as well as I do that your father is a busy man. He couldn’t make it.”

  Couldn’t make it. It takes every ounce of control I have not to make a comment, but I can’t do that to my mother. It’s an unspoken rule. She knows what he does, what kind of life he lives, but she doesn’t like to talk about it, and the last thing I want to do is upset her.

  “It’s fine, Mom,” I say, twirling my fork in the pasta. “We’ll make it happen.”

  She pats my hand and then Dante’s. “I knew I could count on you two. Now, tell me about the girl you brought here last night.”

  When I look up at her, she’s smiling wildly.

  “Girl?” Dante pops a bite of steak in his mouth. “You brought a girl here?” He groans, rolling his head back. “Please tell me you aren’t seeing Liza again.”

  “I’m not seeing Liza again. And there’s nothing to tell. I met a girl. I brought her to dinner. End of story.”

  Dante shoots me a look that tells me he isn’t buying the shit I’m trying to sell. “Right. Except you don’t bring girls here.”

  “Dante,” Mother says, nudging his arm. “Leave Rex alone. You don’t have to tell us about her if you don’t want to,” she tells me.

  “Who told you? Wait. Let me guess. Father?” Fucker.

  She tilts her head. “No, actually, it was Stella.”

  “Stella needs to mind her own business.”

  “Calm down. She didn’t say anything bad. She merely told me you looked happy and she hasn’t seen you smile the way you did last night in a long time.”

  That’s because last night I was happy. Shae made me happy, which is a scary thought considering we seem to be at different points in our lives. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting her—from wanting to break down her walls. I want to know what makes her smile, what makes her mad, but most of all I want to know what’s holding her back. I want to know the darkness lurking behind her eyes, and I won’t stop until I find out.

  With a smile, I say, “Her name is Shae.”

  My mother sputters. Covering her mouth with her hand, she coughs several times. Dante pats her back until she manages to catch her breath, and then he hands her some water. She takes a long, slow sip.

  “Shae.” The way she says this has the hair on the back of my neck standing up. “That’s a unique name.” Breaking eye contact, she looks down at her plate, pushing her food around with a fork before finally taking a bite.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Yes.” She nods, smiling at me before looking at Dante. “Have you, uh…have you met Rex’s friend?”

  Dante looks at me, brows drawn low. “I don’t think so. Wait. Was she the girl you were dancing with the other night at the club?”

  I grin, remembering her lithe body pressed against mine. “Yes.”

  He nods approvingly. “Nice. She was hot. But no,” he says, looking at Mother. “I didn’t get to meet her.”

  Her shoulders relax, and she smiles. “Maybe you can bring her around sometime. I’d love to meet her.”

  Yeah, that’s not going to happen. “We’ve only gone out once,” I tell her. “It’s a little early to meet the family.”

  “Right. You’re right.” Mom’s phone vibrates on the table. She looks down at it, frowns, and tucks it in her purse. Wadding up her napkin, she tosses it on the table and stands. “Sorry to cut this short, boys, but I’ve got to go.”

  Dante and I stand with her. “You haven’t finished your food,” I say, looking at her full plate. “Are you sure you’re okay?” It’s completely out of character for my mother to walk away from us mid-meal. Especially when it’s a meal she orchestrated.

  “I’m fine, darling,” she says, giving us each a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “Something just came up, and I’ve got to go.” Slipping her arms in her jacket, she shrugs it on and points a steely finger at us. “Get started on my party,” she says lightly. “Make it a good one.”

  Dante and I both nod and verbalize our agreement before dropping back into our seats as she makes her way to the front of the restaurant.

  “That was weird, right?” I ask.

  Dante goes back to eating his meal as though nothing happened. He shrugs. “Our entire family is weird. You’re probably reading too much into it. But now that Mom’s gone, tell me about Shae. From what I saw the other night, she’s smokin’ hot.” He gives a low whistle. “Gorgeous body, killer smile—at least from across the room.”

  The look on his face tells me he’s picturing Shae, and it’s a good thing he’s my brother or I’d have to slap him.

  “Is it serious? You really like this girl?”

  I do like her. The chemistry between us is off the charts, but it’s more than that. And now I’ve got to sit back, give her time, and hope she realizes it.

  I shrug. “She isn’t exactly looking
for anything serious.”

  “And you are?” he scoffs.

  “I’m tired of the quick fuck.”

  Dante’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth. He looks at me, curiously.

  The thought has been rolling around in my head, but this is the first time I’ve ever spoken it out loud.

  “Wow. Okay.” Placing his fork on the table, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and sets it in his lap. “It was bound to happen to one of us at some point. I’m just fucking glad it was you and not me.”

  “I’m sure your time’s coming.”

  He scowls. “Don’t say that. You’re going to jinx me. Unlike you, I enjoy my nightly conquests. There’s something to be said about being able to walk away, knowing there are no emotions involved.”

  “You’ll eventually tire of it.”

  “Doubtful. Enough about me. When are you going to see Shae again?”

  “No idea.”

  Now that catches his attention. “What do you mean?”

  “She offered me one night. I’m lucky I got two. I’m hoping for a third.”

  “Hope in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up faster.”

  I narrow my eyes, and Dante holds his hands up.

  “All I’m saying is it sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Enough about my wedding. Are you going to tell me all about your date with Rex or are you going to make me beg?” Erin asks, weaving through traffic.

  I managed to redirect our conversation all through brunch. I should’ve known Erin wouldn’t let me get away with that much longer.

  “I think I’d like to see you beg.”

  She grins, but doesn’t take her eyes off the road. “Did you sleep with him?”

  I don’t answer right away, and when we pull up to a red light, her head whips in my direction. “Oh my God, you did. You totally slept with him. Please tell me he fucks like God.”

  “Whatever Rex and I have done is between us.”

  “Rex.” She shudders in her seat. “Even his name is sexy. He’s like Brad Pitt and George Clooney rolled into one delicious man.”

  I crinkle my nose at her. “More like a young Johnny Depp with a splash of Ian Somerhalder and sprinkle of Colin Farrell.”

  “Oh, fuck,” she moans, clicking her tongue. “That’s not just sexy, that’s bad boy sexy. You’re so screwed.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “No, I’m not. We’re having fun, that’s all.”

  “I bet he’s an animal in bed, isn’t he? Hair pulling, spanking, biting…”

  The person behind us lays on their horn, and in true Erin fashion, she reaches her hand out the window and flips them the bird before speeding off.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to think of anything I can come up with to keep from thinking about that, because she’s right. He is an animal in bed, and it was so fucking sexy when he had one hand pressed to the middle of my back, pushing my breasts into the mattress. My ass lifted, and the sting of his hand—oh, God.

  My heated skin starts to cool, and I pry my eyes open.

  Erin is grinning from ear to ear. “Holy shit! He did it, didn’t he? He spanked you, or pulled your hair.” She narrows her eyes. “He did something filthy, and you loved it!”

  I shake my head vehemently while she nods.

  “Yes, you did. Your cheeks are flushed. You were probably remembering it, and now you want him to do it again. Just admit it.”

  “It was one night,” I argue, discreetly reaching for the oh-shit handle as she slams on her breaks only to speed up again.

  “Two.”

  “Okay, fine, it was two.” Two nights packed full of moans, dirty whispers, and more orgasms than I can count, but Erin doesn’t need to know that.

  Thoughts of Rex have consumed me. I thought about him the minute he dropped me back at home the other morning, and I’m still thinking about him three days later. That’s how I know I’m in over my head. If there’s one thing I realized after a night with him, it’s that he has the power to penetrate my walls and tear them down. Our night was one of the most memorable, hottest things I’ve ever done, and I can’t deny our connection, which is why I’ve spent the last three days wondering if he feels the same way.

  And if he does, why hasn’t he called?

  Maybe I should reach out to him.

  What would I even say?

  Hey, I had a great time fucking you the other night. Want to do it again?

  “How did we go from talking about your wedding to my love life?”

  “Your love life is much more interesting.”

  “I beg to differ.” She gives me a quick are-you-crazy look before focusing on the road.

  “I’m not talking about this anymore.”

  Erin yanks the car to the right and then immediately to the left before pulling up to the curb in front of Josalyn’s office. “Don’t forget about dinner tonight. Reservations are at seven. What time do you get off?”

  Grabbing my purse, I open the passenger door. “I haven’t forgotten, but it’s really not necessary. I don’t need a big fancy dinner.”

  “Um, yes, it is necessary. What time do you get off?”

  “Six-thirty.”

  “Want me to pick you up?”

  “Nah. No sense in you fighting the traffic. It’ll be quicker for me to hoof it.”

  Rolling her eyes, Erin sighs. “Please don’t hoof it. It’s way too far. Call an Uber or call me. Just don’t be late.”

  Waving her off, I slip from the car and shut the door, watching her cut into traffic, leaving me standing on the sidewalk.

  Slowly, I spin around. Josalyn’s office is situated on the north side of town—even farther north than my place—away from the cramped buildings and hustle and bustle of the Loop. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still busy around here, but it’s a different kind of busy.

  When I push open the front door, I’m greeted by the fresh smell of lemon and the lyrics to my favorite Bon Jovi song. Coming into Josalyn’s office is like going to a girlfriend’s house to have a glass of wine. Extremely laid back, she has an office like an eclectic coffee shop, the walls adorned with exquisite photographs of various events she’s planned. The floors are a distressed wood, and the main room is a mixture of brightly colored chairs, an oversized coffee table, and enough flowers to make you feel like you’re in a garden. She has a tiny office in the back corner, although she’s rarely in there. Most days she lounges on the couch, working furiously at her computer, or pacing across the room with her phone attached to her ear. Today, however, she’s doing neither.

  Dropping my bag on the couch, I go in search of Josalyn, only to find her sitting on a yoga mat in her office—legs crossed, hands perched on her knees, and eyes closed. This is new. I’ve yet to find her meditating, but whatever. There are plenty of things I can do to keep myself busy until she’s done. I rustle through my bag, pulling out the Layken file.

  Victoria Layken, a high-society debutante turned doting wife to Richard Layken, one of Chicago’s top lawyers, is planning an elegant baby shower for her new sister-in-law. And when I say elegant, I mean that this unborn child will have more bells and whistles at its pre-birth party than most women have at their weddings. Sparing no expense, Victoria is intent on impressing her in-laws with the baby shower of the year.

  It’s a little over the top if you ask me, but who am I to judge? I’m just here to make sure everything she could ever dream of and ask for is delivered on a silver platter, which is why I spend the next several hours on the phone.

  Somewhere during that time, Josalyn appears, looking exceptionally relaxed. With a little wave, she makes herself at home on the couch, working away on her computer and stopping every few minutes to listen in on my phone conversation—something I don’t mind at all. This is her company, after all, and if she wants something done a different way, I’d rather her tell me.

  “Here’s the Layken file.”

>   Josalyn looks up from her laptop and takes the file. “Were you able to secure the location she wanted?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And I also secured the date with the caterer she chose, as well as the florist.”

  “Wow. Thank you, Shae.”

  “I can’t believe she hired a caterer and florist for a baby shower. Where I grew up, a baby shower consisted of a few close friends and family getting together at the local church hall to celebrate over cold-cut sandwiches and dime-store cake.”

  Josalyn’s face lights up. “Now that would be an easy party to plan. And I have no idea, why anyone needs all this, but as long as I’m getting paid, I’ll do whatever the heck she wants. Good work on this, Shae.” She taps the file.

  I soak up the praise, hoping that if I impress her enough, she’ll eventually hire me on full time. Her business is growing by leaps and bounds, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she ends up needing full-time help by the end of the year. If I do well, I should be first in line.

  I spend the next few minutes catching up on emails, and when the clock on the wall says it’s nearly six-thirty, I start packing my bag.

  “You up for some extra hours?” Josalyn asks, her eyes still trained on the screen in front of her.

  “Always.” I drop down in the plush chair across from her and cross my legs. I never did find another part-time job, so I’m eager for extra work. “What do you have for me?”

  “A last-minute anniversary party. It’s going to require a lot of work because there isn’t much time, and I wasn’t going to take it on, but if you want it, it’s yours.”

  “Yes,” I say, a little too excitedly. “I absolutely want it. Thank you.”

  “Good.” She smiles. “I was hoping you’d say that. Why don’t you grab the anniversary portfolios we have and get them ready. The client will be here within the hour.”

  “We’re meeting with them tonight?”

  “Is that going to be a problem?”

  I look at my watch, trying to calculate how on Earth I can make this work. Meeting with a client tonight will mean missing dinner with Erin and JJ, something I don’t want to do. But this is a chance for me to prove myself to Josalyn. As much as I hate to cancel, I just don’t see any way around it. I’m sure JJ and Erin will understand. Plus, if the meeting gets done early, I can still try to make it for dessert.