Strung Out (23 page)

“Will you tell him for me?”

There was a large sigh on the other end of the line. “I hate being put in this position. But if that’s how you want it, I’ll say what needs to be said.”

Talia stared wide-eyed at Leslie. “Okay, Desiree. Thank you.”

Before she’d even finished speaking, the line was dead and Talia had managed to sever all contact with the man who had touched her heart like no other.

* * *

Erik placed Desiree’s drink on the table and sat down. He motioned to his phone. “Did anyone call while I was up?” He’d left it lying on the table when he’d gotten up to refresh her drink at the bar.

“Actually, yes.”

She was abnormally serious, and a lump formed in Erik’s stomach. “Well?”

“Talia called.”

“And?”

“She’s decided to pursue the opportunity in New York.” He half stood, and Desiree yanked him back down. “You can’t run off half-cocked with your dick in your hand. You’ve got some thinking to do.”

“About what?”

She set her chin, a sure sign she was about to blow. “Did you actually buy her a spot in the Boston Symphony Orchestra? Tell me you didn’t really do that.”

He felt as though he was on trial. “She was disappointed that she had to give up the chamber spot with the Jupiter Symphony in New York. I figured this was even better.”

“I’m going to try and remember your intentions were good. But you insulted the hell out of her, Erik. That’s like saying she’s not good enough to earn it herself.”

“No, I was just using resources to pave her way.”

Desiree rolled her eyes. “Let me put it another way. What you did is like saying the only reason you’re successful at your job is because our family already owned the company.”

He shifted uncomfortably beneath her hot glare. “In a way, maybe it is.”

“So if you weren’t an Aasen, you’d be incapable of success on your own?”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Then Talia doesn’t need the Aasens to make it either.”

Erik picked up his glass and took a long swig of bitter liquid. “So you’re saying I should let her go?”

“I’m saying you’re not ready to go after her unless you’re ready to let go of the idea that she needs you to save her.” Desiree sat back in her chair, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “In fact, I think you’re the one in need of saving.”

* * *

“You’re going to trip and fall flat on your face if you don’t quit turning around every five seconds.”

Talia offered Leslie a tight smile and tried to keep still. She knew her friend was right. But she couldn’t help but think back to the last time she’d stood in the security line waiting to go to New York. Her whole life had changed that day. And yet here she was less than a week later, and it’d swapped back again.

“So you’re going to remember to call me right when you get there.” Leslie nudged her in the shoulder to bring her back to the present.

“I don’t know if I should use the phone, Les. It isn’t really mine, and I have no idea who’s paying the bill.”

Leslie snorted. “Come on. Rich family like that? It’ll take their accountant at least three or four months to realize where the charges are coming from. Until then, you’ve got every right to use it. Possession is nine-tenths of the law.” She wrinkled her nose. “Besides, maybe you’ll get addicted to the stupid thing and get one of your own so I can finally call you whenever I want.”

“Some days I wish I was as brave and crazy as you, Les.”

Her friend nibbled her lower lip, a sure sign of something going on behind her pretty dark eyes. “I got a phone call yesterday.”

Glad for the distraction, Talia eagerly played along. “From who?”

“That guy at the museum. Seth something or another.”

The line moved, and Talia tugged her suitcase forward with one hand while slapping the other one over her mouth in shock. “Ohmigod! Seth Overton called you?”

“Yup.”

“How about Josh Breckenridge?”

“Who’s that?”

“His blond friend.”

Leslie shifted back and forth from heel to toe in her restless dance. “Why would he call if they’re friends? Won’t he respect the ‘bros before hos’ rule?”

Talia wondered whether or not she should tell her friend what she’d learned about the two handsome lawyers. “Actually, I think you can pretty well expect that the rule isn’t valid at all in their case.”

“You don’t make a damn bit of sense, Tallie. You know that, right?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be calling for details. And I bet you’ll get what I mean by then.”

The front of the security line approached. Three more, then two, then Talia was ready to remove her shoes and open up her violin case for them to check it out. She turned around and looked once more at the terminal stretching into the distance. It was an ocean of people and not one familiar face in the crowd. Her heart lurched and shriveled just a little.

“He isn’t coming, Tallie,” Leslie whispered. “Give me a hug, and move on with this amazing opportunity.”

“You’ve been my best friend forever, Les.” Talia’s throat swelled until she could barely choke out the right words. “I can’t thank you enough for everything.”

“You too. I’ll miss you like crazy. Call me! And Niles and I will clear out your apartment and ship your stuff to you whenever you’re ready.”

“You’re the best, Les. Take care of yourself.”

Leslie slipped beneath the ropes, and Talia toed off her shoes. After depositing them in a tub and stepping through the metal detector, she grabbed her violin and her suitcase and walked toward the next adventure of her life.

Chapter Twenty-three

Erik caught his foot on the edge of his desk and spun himself back in the other direction. Outside the world was just waking up. Fiery pinks and reds dotted the horizon, lengthening into jagged streaks across the pale blue sky. Clouds reflected bits of color in their filmy exteriors. Some were wispy columns that disappeared to nothing as the sunlight crept closer to the city.

Down below, the city would be coming to life. In his office, Erik had never gone home. Papers were strewn about a desk littered with crumpled memos and pens with mangled caps. Somewhere beneath the mess lay a cell phone that would not ring for the reason he wanted it to.

He stood and stretched, his shirttails hanging out and buttons half-undone down his chest. His pants were hopelessly creased from the endless night, and he could feel the hair sticking up at all angles from his head. Reaching up, he ran a careless hand through the mess. Not that it mattered. Money didn’t care what he looked like. It didn’t give a shit about his health or whether or not he was wasting his life chained to a desk while condemned to pursue business objectives to make more money for people who didn’t need it.

No. Talia had been the only one to care about that.

Three weeks. It had been three fucking weeks of hell since she’d picked up and left without a word. Before that he’d only had her in his life for ten days. You couldn’t even accurately invest in stock that you’d watched for ten days. But one thing he’d learned, the most important thing he’d learned from Talia, was that people were not stocks. They weren’t pawns on a chessboard or pieces in a game. You couldn’t figure them out or predict their behavior with any regular success. They were unique. And they were worth much more than money.

He walked to the windows and braced his forearm against the cool glass. Leaning forward, he rested his head on his arm and closed his eyes. The air beside the window was cool against his flushed face. Blinding light from the rising sun struck the window, illuminating the back of his eyelids and warming the pane of glass beneath his arm.

Making money wasn’t a purpose. And if it was, it shouldn’t be a sole purpose. Work was something you did to enable you to do the things you loved or support the people you loved. But now more than ever Erik understood what Talia had meant when she asked why he let his work become his life.

The door popped open, and Anita backed into the room with a stack of files balanced in her arms.

He swallowed experimentally before trying his voice. “Good morning, Anita.”

She screeched like a chicken and threw the files up into the air. As they rained down around her in a storm of stock quotes, legal documents, and internal memos, she placed her hand against her heart and glared at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry if I startled you. I never went home last night.”

“Startled me? You damn near scared ten years right off my life!”

He knelt down to pick up a folder, scooping up the papers that had been dislodged by their tumble. “I’m so sorry, Anita. I never meant to give you a scare like that. I’ll try to leave you a note or something next time.”

“Next time?” She aimed a towering frown at him. “Are you planning to spend your nights here at the office?”

Until that moment he hadn’t realized he’d planned things that way. Staying at the office was a helluva lot better than going home to a house without Talia. Just like working was better than facing a life without Talia. And never-ending celibacy was better than facing a future without her soft body welcoming him back as they made love.

Made love? Since when did Erik Aasen make love? What happened to sex and fucking?

“I know it’s not my place to say.” Anita wasn’t done with him. “But when are you going to take your head out of your ass and go after that woman? This moping around the office is driving me insane. And I’m starting to get concerned about the long-term effects on your health.”

“Have you ever been in love, Anita?”

She knelt in her prim skirt and nibbled her lip thoughtfully before making another neat stack of files. “Actually, yes. I was married for almost thirty years before my husband died of prostate cancer.”

An odd sense of relief mingled with disappointment hit Erik’s midsection. “So in the end it would’ve been better to avoid love since you ended up alone anyway.”

“No!” She reached out and touched his arm. “Absolutely not. I loved my husband. Jackson was my soul mate. I’d have given anything to have more time with him, but I wouldn’t trade the little bit we had for any amount of money.”

She gathered up the files and deposited them on his desk before returning to her own. Erik sighed and began pacing a large circle around his office. The worst part about being a workaholic was he’d finished most of his usual workload for the rest of the week and now had nothing to do but pace and brood.

The intercom buzzed. “Mr. Aasen, the Coltons are here.”

Erik strode over to the desk, double-checking both the desk planner and his phone calendar to make sure they hadn’t had a scheduled appointment. Pushing the button on the com, he tried to keep his voice low. “Did I know about this?”

“No, sir. Shall I reschedule?”

He glanced down at his disheveled appearance and shrugged. He had nothing left to hide and no one left to impress. “Send them in. Better now than later.”

He could hear the doubt in her voice. “All right, sir.”

The door creaked open, and Rupert strode in with Courteney pacing at his side. Rupert looked every inch the successful businessman, and his daughter was dressed to kill in a tight skirt that showed off her shapely legs and a top that granted him a terrific view of cleavage he had little-to-no interest in seeing.

He crossed his arms and lifted an eyebrow. “You’re looking well, Courteney. Although you don’t look dressed for the New England winter.”

“And you don’t look dressed for anything, Erik.” She scoffed. “My God, you’ve really let yourself go.”

Ignoring his daughter, Rupert drove right to the point. “Colton Electronics wants to be back in business with Aasen International. Your numbers recently have been unbelievable, and the projections for next quarter are better than I ever anticipated.”

It was the unexpected side effect of working a 24-7 work week, though Erik knew better than to admit it to Rupert.

“So I’m here now to renegotiate the whole deal.” Rupert slanted a glance at Courteney, who offered a hard nod. “We’ve decided it’s time to forgive you for your brief week of insanity.”

Erik wanted to rip the man’s head off for suggesting his time with Talia was something so trivial, but his mouth was glued shut with a combination of shock and sleep deprivation.

“After all,” Rupert continued, “settling down to marriage is a lot to ask of a wild young bachelor like yourself.”

Marriage to Talia was a chance at paradise. Marriage to Courteney would be a taste of purgatory. Why the man thought the nonsense he was spouting had any validity at all was beyond Erik’s comprehension. He plopped into his leather chair and waited for Colton to finish making an ass of himself.

Rupert took a seat, motioning for Courteney to do the same. Erik wondered idly if she intended that he should see all the way up her skirt to her pussy or if that was a mere wardrobe malfunction.

“So let’s talk business, Erik,” Rupert urged. “How can we make this work?”

Erik pressed his fingertips together, trying not to laugh out loud. “I think the business particulars are better left for another time between our lawyers, Mr. Colton. As I’m sure you’ll agree. But I certainly don’t see a problem with Aasen International acquiring Colton Electronics as a subsidiary, which would be very lucrative for you.”

Colton blinked several times in quick succession, as if trying to digest everything he’d just been told.

“And about the other matter.” Erik gestured to Courteney. “I can offer her a penthouse apartment, a monthly allowance, a small trust in case of my death, and two public appearances a month. However, conjugal visits are out of the question, and I don’t plan to offer her any part of the Aasen fortune.”

Courteney made a fish face, her chin bobbing up and down without a single sound. Rupert was in much the same condition, his face pale with shock. Something about their expressions jarred his false sense of composure. In the past he’d done things, said things that were cold and calculated. He’d always lived by the rule that people got what was coming to them. He didn’t feel that way anymore.

Erik sighed. He wasn’t this person. No matter what had happened in the past, he didn’t want to be that man who treated people like pawns. “I’m sorry. That was beyond rude. The truth is that I’m not over my ‘temporary insanity,’ as you called it. And I’ll never be over it. Talia may not have been a debutante or my family’s first choice. But she was, and is, my only choice.” The rest almost slipped out without his even realizing it. “And I love her.”