Pretty Bitches (11 page)

I rushed the process and just went straight back to bed. I hadn’t slept in almost three days and I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. I called for Marriett and asked for a bottle of wine. Fifteen minutes later she carried it to my bedside and left my tablet and phone.

I poured the wine first. I needed a numbing agent before I looked at the clusterfuck I knew was waiting for me at work.

I drained the glass and reached for my cell. There were one hundred fourteen missed calls and thirty-three new voice messages.

Fuck me.

I scrolled through and began listening. Pamela was irate and Charles was hysterical that I left them there to man the ship. Numerous problems arose and they barely made the deadline. But, it was finished and the proofs were being couriered to me.

That’s when I started hearing his messages—fifteen in total. I deleted each one without listening. I couldn’t bear to hear the pity I knew he was shoving at me. Each time I thought about it the angrier I became. The rest of the week was spent at home, working and brooding. I accomplished more than the entire floor does in a month.

I was a machine.

When the next week rolled around I put on my iron panties and headed out the door. Elliott was smart and kept his fucking trap shut. The tourists huddled in Times Square got the complete NYC experience when I passed through.

Ed greeted me and I felt detached from him as well. I gave a curt nod and continued through the doors. I hissed at each person that threw me a smile or even a wave. By the time I reached my floor there had apparently been a warning bell sound because not one person acknowledged me. I continued to my office and was greeted my Melanie with no usual commentary. My doors shut loudly and I stalked to my desk.

And then it began…

My email had a new block feature—none from Cailen. I instructed Melanie if she valued not only her job but also her life she better not let one call from him pass my desk. I called my cell phone company and figured out how to block his number.

When it came to Cailen Carmichael it was a total blackout—severed ties.

The following days were torturous because he called my office line several times a day. By the end of the week I’d fired four people. Two of who had questioned a photo I approved and the other two simply looked at me wrong. I was in crisis mode; I knew it. I needed to get a handle. I couldn’t go around exiling everyone in my life.

Lila had called me everyday. I had to avoid her like the plague because she sees through me like water and when she found out that my current crisis resulted from love she would hack up a lung laughing at me and then smack me for being so stupid.

On the other hand, perhaps that is exactly what I need. Someone to tell me what an idiot I’d been and help me see the light. Love is over-rated. You put yourself out there you are going to get burned—every single time.

The hellacious reality though, is that I
do
love him. Everything about him screams, “I’m home” to me. He makes me feel alive and loved. That realization sent me further into the pit of fucking despair.

Lila hounded me over the next few days to join the land of the living and come to Pressed. After much reservation and internal struggle I went against my better wishes. When we pulled in front my stomach lurched into a knot.

I wasn’t ready.

Emotionally I was a twisted ball of shit. The thought of even looking someone in the eye made me cringe. Even worse, since that night, I haven’t been able to touch a glass of Glenlivet. My daily toasts to my dad had suffered.

He wrecked it all. He completely demolished my house of cards.

The scowl on my face put every breathing creature at bay once we entered. We were given a wide berth to our reserved table.

Lila was seething. “Snap the fuck out of it Em. For Christ’s sake, you act like the world stop turning on its axis. Your work is obsessive, we haven’t had one fuck night and you look like hammered shit.”

My temper had reached its limit.

“You don’t know shit about my problem and how dare you speak to me that way. Go find your slum lord piece of shit and carry on your whorish ways.”

She looked at me like I’d just slit her jugular. I threw my drink across the table soaking her dress and basically stormed out of the bar.

Elliott saw my face and frantically reached for my door. When he climbed into his seat I was already in tears. The drive home was silent. My thoughts were obsessed with Cailen and I wanted to rip my fucking heart out for betraying me.

Once we reached my house I nearly ripped the handle from the door getting out. As I was rounding my threshold a hand pulled me back.

Elliott was staring at me with sympathetic eyes. “Emberly, I don’t know what has happened but I can promise you that this too shall pass.”

I was too emotional and too disheveled to answer I simply yanked my arm from his grip and raced up the stairs to my room. When the door was safely closed and I was alone, my emotions poured onto the floor. It wasn’t until I heard a knock that I realized I was face down in the fetal position screaming crying.

Marriett eased the door and pulled my arm. She led me to the bed and put a glass of Glenlivet in my hand and sat beside me. I asked no questions and she gave no reassurances I just drank and sobbed.

Sometime later she helped me out of my clothes and led me to the shower. Somehow I’d become a shell of a human. Even the basic need to bathe myself had become too much to bear.

She helped me out of the shower and refilled my glass. The rest was a blur.

That was Tuesday. By Thursday I had so many messages I couldn’t keep up. Work was frantic and my sanity had all but left me.

I just didn’t want to live.

When I looked in the mirror I realized how sunken my face was and how my clothes just hung on my frame.

On Friday Marriett woke me at three in the afternoon and had a tray of food in her hand. I waved it off and rolled over to continue my day of death.

My nightmares had become common knowledge. When I woke screaming now, I was met with a sleeping pill and a glass of whiskey.

I saw Cailen across the snow staring at the waterfall. His form was so beautiful and the look in his eyes had my heart hammering in my chest. I wanted to run to him—wanted to feel that warm embrace. But my mind told me to run—run as fast as I could away. He was going to kill the only piece of a heart I had left.

I began to scream and when a pair of strong arms held me down and a new panic appeared. I flailed against the nightmare and begged while I cried.

Then I heard a soft whisper, “Gemma, I’m here, love. I’m here.”

My eyes snapped open and I wanted to slap him, tell him he broke me but I couldn’t. I could only sob harder. I was like a geyser; my tears were relentless. I wept for him, for every loss I’d ever had.

At some point I finally succumbed to sleep and when I awoke he was staring at me with the most broken expression. I had no strength left. I couldn’t turn away, I couldn’t fight I could only lie there.

He stroked my face.

“I’m so fucking angry that you left me. I’m so fucking angry that you’ve been avoiding me. You never gave me a chance to tell you how much,” He placed a kiss to my forehead. “…I absolutely fucking love you, Gemma.”

My mind was numb. What the hell just happened? Did he just say…?

He pulled my mouth to his and sealed it with a kiss that absolutely blew my mind.

“Emberly Landon, I love you. I loved you from the second you opened your mouth and put me in my place. But, I just didn’t know how to say it. To tell you how much you fucking mean to me.”

He reached for my hand.

“Since you left me I’ve been a fucking mess, love. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I just can’t fucking think. You are it for me. You are the one and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you shut me out one more fucking second.”

He sealed his lips over mine and I swear to God my head exploded. It was acute need. I responded like a bottle rocket. Within seconds our clothes were ripped to smithereens.

He hungrily raked his hands over my body. When he reached my wet folds he moaned. I can’t help it, when he says my name I react—become slick. By the time he reached my breasts I had come apart in his hands.

That drove him harder. Hands were flailing over both our bodies. I pinned him to the bed and used my hands to command his stillness. My mouth made a trek down his neck to his perfect nipples, which I teased and licked. I heard him moan and that made me dip further. The muscles of his abdomen were tensing with every lick of my tongue.

When I reached the button on his pants he let out a loud growl. I snapped the button and slowly eased them down his legs. What I had waiting for me was just un-fucking-believable. He was harder that I’d ever seen him and that made me crazy.

My hands caressed his chest as I teased his length with my tongue. I watched him quiver when I licked each side. I took his cock in my hand and massaged it until I heard him beg then I placed my mouth over it and glided it gently letting my teeth graze it just enough before it hit the back of my throat.

He almost catapulted off the bed. I continued, enjoying every stroke and moan that came from his beautiful mouth. I could feel the tension building and I waved off his attempts taking every bit of his release into my mouth. My eyes never left his face as I saw the ecstasy glisten off his eyes.

I pulled back and rested my head on his stomach waiting on the tremors to abate from his orgasm.

He pulled my face to his. “Emberly, I love you. I love your heart, your soul, your everything.”

I’d been running for so long. I had no drive anymore. I couldn’t escape.

But actually, I didn’t want to.

I wanted him.

I wanted everything about him.

I
NEEDED
him.

He pulled my face to his gaze. “Gemma, I fucking love you, sweetheart. Damnit, you seem to be the focus of my world, love.” That profession was followed by the single most seductive kiss of my life.

I gasped. Staring into his eyes, I wanted to cry. I waited for the voice in my head to tell me he was a mirage; he doesn’t love you, he doesn’t want you. All those thoughts were swimming in my head and I felt like I was going to shut down.

He grabbed my hands and lifted them to his beautiful face. “Not a chance, love. I swear to you, I’ll never let you go, again.”

He kissed my lips.

“You are mine.” He professed.

I had nothing to say at that point. All I wanted was to feel him, to love him. So, I pulled my lips to his and it was like a live wire. We explored each other and pleased one another. He made love to me like I never knew was possible.

Hours later we were panting and kissing each other. He leaned down and whispered, “I have a surprise for you, Gemma. Just for your, love.”

I began to ask but he placed a finger over my lips and began singing. I never knew what a beautiful fucking voice he had. He was like an angel.

I awoke the next morning to coffee and breakfast in bed. I could only smile.

“What is this?” I asked.

He smiled. “Fuel for our trip, Gemma.”

My eyebrows scrunched. “What trip?”

“Just get up, let me fucking bathe you. The rest is taken care of, love.” He reached for my hand.

It was automatic, I didn’t even think, I just linked our fingers.