Final Call (The Call #2) (6 page)

A flutter hits my lower
stomach. I may be vibrating with anger at him, but he really does
look hot as hell right now. He’s tall and commanding, and when he
finally turns to me, I can see his own annoyance in his eyes along
with a glare of pure power.

His gaze flicks to my
feet before roaming leisurely up my body and finding mine once
more. “Making yourself at home, Dayton?”

“Why not? For all I
know, I could have been here for a while. You should really get a
coffee machine in here if you’re going to lock women in your
office.”

“Not women. Just
you.”

“I’m flattered.
Really.”

He tilts his head
slightly to one side, and his lips curve into that smirk that’s so
dangerously alluring. “Care to explain why you interrupted my
meeting?”

I mirror his movements.
“Care to explain why you called my agent and threatened her with
closing her business if she didn’t let you buy me
indefinitely?”

“I told you, Dayton. No
one but me gets to touch you.”

“And I told you, Aaron.
You lost that right when you fucked me over and broke my heart.” I
stand. “Threatening Monique was absolutely unnecessary and marks
you as a downright bastard in my books. How dare you do that to her
when she kept your secret from me?”

“I wouldn’t have shut
her down. I was calling her bluff.” He walks around his desk, and I
stand, following him with my eyes. “I may not understand her
chosen…profession…but I respect her.”

“At least you respect
someone.”

His eyes flash at my
words. “I have never disrespected you.”

“No, of course not.” I
laugh bitterly. “You only lied to me about your wife. Remember
that? Oh, yeah.” I tick that off on my fingers, and a bit of the
righteous attitude leaves his eyes. “And you continue to push me,
and then you freaking
buy
me, yet again, when I’ve made it
quite clear I have no desire to have anything to do with you now.
You continue to force me into situations I’m not comfortable with.
Where’s the fucking respect in that, huh, Aaron? Because it’s lost
on me.”

He fiddles with the
cuff link at his wrist, his eyes steadily holding mine as he does
so. The intensity in his stare makes me tremble a little, and the
silence lingering heavily between us is uncomfortable.
Turn-around-and-run-like-hell uncomfortable.

He places his hands
flat on his desk, leaning toward me. “You’re right. Lying about
Naomi to you wasn’t respecting you at all.”

“Thank you.”

“But I refuse to agree
with the second part of your statement. If you were uncomfortable
around me, sweetheart, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I’m here to kick your
ass, not fuck you.”

“You’re here because,
regardless of my paying for you, there’s nowhere else in this world
you’re supposed to be.”

I know he’s right, but
the tug in my heart that wants me to move closer is still clouded
by my anger.

“You might own my
heart, Aaron Stone, but that doesn’t give you the right to abuse
it. It doesn’t mean you get to decide what I do, who I see, who I
sleep with, where I work. I’m not your employee or someone who even
gives a crap if you get your own damn way or not. It doesn’t mean
you get to throw your money around until I see things your way and
give in to you the way everybody else does!”

“Then please enlighten
me as to what it does mean.”

“It means if you’re
sorry, you man the hell up and stop hiding behind your money. It
means you
show
me you’re sorry, because right now, all I see
is a man unwilling to admit his mistakes.” I put my own hands on
the table and lean into him. Our breaths mingle as his eyes flick
to my lips, and mine to his, before our gazes crash into each
other’s. “And for a man so confident and powerful, it’s not a good
look for you.”

“Insults now?”

“No, the truth. Isn’t
it a bitch?”

He runs his thumb along
my jaw, sending an electric current across my skin, and cups it
softly. “Do you want to know what is a bitch? It’s seeing you here,
touching you, and knowing there’s a part of you that doesn’t want
it. It’s looking into your eyes and seeing contempt mixed with a
slither of hatred because of what I did to you. It’s knowing you
only belong to me by default. That’s the real fucking bitch
here—that I lost you.” He leans forward so his nose brushes mine.
“Is that the kind of showing you want, Dayton? Do you want me to
strip myself naked emotionally for you?”

“Yes.” The word escapes
my lips. “I want you to throw words and honesty at me, not
underhanded contracts with my agent. I want realness, not sneaky
payments in an attempt to get me to bend to your will. But you
can’t do that unless I kick and scream, can you?”

I step back and his
hand drops limply. Aaron closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of
his nose, and straightens. He turns his back to me to face the
Bay.

“Why did you do it?” I
lift my chin although he can’t see me, like standing taller will
give me the strength I need to continue this conversation. “Why did
you really keep her a secret from me?”

“You know why. I didn’t
want to hurt you.”

“Bullshit.
Bull-fucking-shit!”

“I didn’t want you to
think any less of me for marrying a woman I didn’t care for!” His
words are sharp, and he turns just as suddenly as he shouted.
“Happy?”

I step backward and
shake my head. “Why would I have thought less of you?”

“Because I wasn’t man
enough to find you although I’ve been in this city a hundred times
since we first met, but I could promise my life to a woman I didn’t
care about or love. What does that say about me, Dayton?”

The same thing it says
about my not having another relationship since you.

“It says you were
afraid of being hurt again, so you took the only option you had
that meant that wouldn’t happen.”

He runs his fingers
through his hair, and when I look into his eyes, I see the same
pain I know is in mine reflected in them. “What am I supposed to
do? I talk so easily about you belonging to me, but we both ignore
the fact I belong to you. You own me. You always have and you
always will. That’s the very bottom of it, the defining line. You
own me so fucking completely that I have to buy you because,
dammit, Day, if I can’t have you, no one else is going to
either.”

Aaron crosses the room,
his long stride swallowing it up in a second, and frames my face
with his hands. His thumbs run under my eyes and rub away the tears
I didn’t realize were falling, and he takes a deep, ragged
breath.

“Jesus, woman. I can’t
let you go again. Do you understand that? I have to know, one way
or another, that you belong to me.”

“Buying me isn’t the
way to do that,” I whisper. “I’m not a fucking toy, Aaron. If you
want me, you have to prove that to me. You have to fight for me
until you’re blue in the face and struggling to breathe, because
that’s the only way I’m ever going to believe you. Your money, your
power, your status—they all mean nothing to me. Nothing.”

“I will spend every day
of the rest of my life proving to you I want you if only you’ll let
me.”

“It shouldn’t matter if
I let you. If you want me that badly, you’ll do it anyway.”

He rests his forehead
against mine. “I want to show you something.”

Chapter
Six

Aaron takes my hand and
leads me to one of the doors off his office. I chew the inside of
my lip as he pulls out a key and unlocks it—just to lock it again
once we’re through it.

“Won’t you be
missed?”

He shakes his head. “I
got Dottie to clear my schedule for the rest of the day, and as for
that meeting, it’s rescheduled for tomorrow morning.”

“Dottie?” I can’t help
the curving of my lips. Seriously. Dottie?

“My assistant.”

“I know who she is. She
yelled at me a few times.”

“And obviously, you
ignored her.”

“Obviously.” I look
around. “Oh, an apartment adjoined to your office. How very cliché
of you.”

“Sometimes leaving the
office after working late isn’t appealing.”

“Oh, so it’s purely for
a work sleepover? Not a fuck pad then?”

“I can honestly say
I’ve never fucked anyone here.” His eyes flick to me. “But it can
be arranged.”

I roll my eyes and
snatch my hand from his. “So what do you need to show me?”

He waves a hand over
his shoulder and walks into the main room. I follow him, playing
with the hem of my shirt. I’m suddenly feeling uncertain. Do I
really want to see whatever this is?

Wait. I’m supposed to
be mad at him.

Fucking hell.

Aaron pulls a box from
a walk-in cupboard and carries it over to me. He motions to the
sofa, and I sit as he pulls out something wrapped in brown paper.
He hands it to me, and I rest it on my lap. It’s light but
large.

“What is it?”

“Open it. I haven’t
seen it yet.”

I frown but flip it
over and slide my finger beneath the tape holding the paper down. I
do it on all four sides and pull it away

My breath catches when
I flip it back over. “This is…”

Us, sitting on the
beach in Australia, our foreheads together, both of us smiling. His
arms are around my waist and mine are around his neck. I run my
finger across the canvas, my throat tightening as I do so.

“Us,” he finishes,
sitting next to me.

The tug inside my chest
grows and spirals into an all-consuming ache I feel deep into my
bones. I can see it now—the love we never knew existed circling us.
The love, so pure and real, clouded by reality and lies.

I can’t take my eyes
from it, the picture of us. We look perfect. Like we were meant to
be there. Like its right—
right,
right.
Wouldn’t-have-it-any-other-way kind of right. It cuts and it hits
and it twists inside me. An evil reminder of what we had. What we
have. What’s buried beneath the same reality that sliced it
apart.

“How did you get it?” I
ask softly.

“I called Joel while we
were in Italy and asked to see the pictures that weren’t chosen.
Then I bought them from him and had these done. They were waiting
for me in New York when I got back last week.”

I swallow the lump
forming in my throat. “What were you going to do with them?”

He smiles. “What one
usually does with pictures.”

“Shut up.” I nudge his
arm.

“I was going to hang
them in my apartment when you moved in. I know, I know,” he adds at
my raised eyebrows. “Presumptuous bastard.”

I can’t help the twitch
at the corner of my mouth that pulls my lips into a small smile.
“Very much so.”

Aaron takes the canvas
from me. “Then you left, and I couldn’t have them at home, so I
brought them here.”

“And you’re going to
keep them here until you get your way and I move in, right?”

“That was plan B, yes.”
He puts it on the table in front of us and leans back.

I pull my legs up and
hug them to my chest as I turn, resting my head against the back of
the sofa. My eyes find him and I trace his profile, my eyes
lingering far too long on his lips and strong jaw. The urge to
reach out and rub my thumb across the stubble shadowing it
overcomes me, and I tighten my grip on my legs to stop myself doing
it.

Even angry at him, I
want him. Badly. I want to fold myself into his arms and let the
ache in my chest go away, even if it’s just for a minute. I want to
feel his heart beating against my cheek and the steady rise and
fall of his chest as he breathes me in, savoring me.

“You know, I don’t
think you’ve apologized for not telling me,” I whisper, breaking
the tense silence between us.

“That’s because every
time I try, I can’t find the right words. There’s nothing I can say
that will show you how sorry I am.”

“‘I’m sorry’ is a good
start.”

He turns to me with a
raised eyebrow. “That wouldn’t cut it.”

“It might dent it a
little.”

A small laugh leaves
him and he slides across the leather seat to me. He closes his
hands around my wrists and pulls my arms from my legs. My skin
hums, goose bumps coating it, when he lifts my legs and rests them
over his.

Slowly, he brings a
hand to my face and pushes my hair from my eyes. “Believe me, Day.
If I thought ‘I’m sorry’ would even nudge it, I’d have said it a
thousand times. Nothing I could say could show you how much I
regret it.”

He softly touches his
lips to mine. His hand curves around my neck and pulls me closer to
him, and his rich, masculine scent envelopes me. I respond to his
kiss on instinct, curling my fingers into his collar.

This is slow and
tender, filling me with warmth. Tingles spread through my body,
reaching every part of me, and they heighten when Aaron wraps his
arm around my body and pulls me closer.

This is his apology.
And I feel it.

Every bit of his
regret, his remorse, his guilt—it’s all perfectly clear in the
gentle brushes of his lips. It’s louder and more meaningful than
any words, but the ache is there still. It’s still prevalent in my
chest. It’s still consuming.

This won’t make it
better. This won’t make it go away.

“I have no idea what
I’m doing with you half the time,” he whispers, his eyes still
closed. “You are the one thing that’s unexpected, the one thing I
truly have no power to control. I’m totally winging this, you know
that? Like right now, I’m sitting here, completely lost, all the
while hoping you’ll walk out that door with me.”

“One kiss won’t change
it. It won’t heal my heart, Aaron.”

He opens his eyes, and
the brightness of them holds my gaze on his. “I can’t change
anything if you refuse to be around me.” He fingers ghost along my
neck and collarbone and come to rest above my heart. It beats
faster at his touch, and his lips twitch. “I broke your heart, and
now you have to let me fix it.”