Page 53 of Conflagration
His lips twitch, a slow grin forming on his face. “Come here.”
I do as he asked, folding into his arms as he holds them out for me.
“And the song? I’m guessing it was purely a coincidence I walked in on that?”
Biting my lower lip, I press myself into him. “You know you’re more than man enough for me, Branson.”
He laughs. “I know. I just like hearing it.”
Just as I roll my eyes, I hear his stomach rumble. I take his hand and lead him into the kitchen, pointing at the island and telling him to sit while I make lunch. Once I’m finished, I place my elbows on the counter and lean towards him before we both start eating.
“So, care to tell me why you’re home three hours early? Is your knee bothering you?”
“If my dad asks, yes, that’s exactly why.”
“Excuse me?”
“You weren’t the only one with a preoccupied mind this morning. I think this whole ‘going back to the office’ thing is going to have to happen gradually. There are a couple of client meetings I’ll have to go to this week, but for the most part, he’s allowing me to work from home until my knee’s feeling better.” He grins mischievously. “And since the wedding’s this weekend, he was more than happy to give me more time to recuperate.”
Elation swells in me even though I know that all we’re doing is putting off the inevitable. “So you’ll be home the rest of the week?” I squeal, bounding around the island and throwing my arms around his neck.
“Yeah, baby, I’ll be here. I’ll still have to get work done in my office, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take breaks throughout the day. Hell, just knowing you’re right down the hall will make me feel at ease. Now, first things first. I’m getting the hell out of this suit.”
I watch as he hobbles out of the room, and a lightness fills my heart. I have a feeling that Branson’s becoming as addicted to me as I’ve become to him, and I wonder what he’s going to do about it.
AN UNUSUAL wave of loneliness washed over me the moment Ariana walked out the door of my office. It didn’t escape my attention the way everyone was watching us when we entered the building. Megan didn’t show up often, but when she did, everyone knew she was in the building and she made sure she was dressed impeccably. Ari didn’t give a shit, throwing on jeans and a T-shirt, and the fact that she didn’t even seem to notice the looks did something to me.
As I signed on to my computer and tried to get lost in my work, I found that it was nearly impossible. Every minute that passed, my thoughts drifted to her. I wanted to know what she was doing, what she was thinking. I tried to shake myself out of it as I caught up on what I’d missed, but it was no use. My heart just wasn’t in it. What used to be the only thing that was fulfilling in my life was now leaving me feeling empty. Unsatisfied. Restless.
And that scared the hell out of me.
I’m not sure when things changed between us. It must’ve happened gradually because this is unexpected as hell. Well, as gradually as things can in such a small amount of time. I’ve never wanted anything more than my work. I’ve never allowed anything—or anyone for that matter—become a distraction. I’ve been so focused on the end game, my eyes set on that office with the placard reading “Branson Wellington: CEO.” Nothing has ever gotten in my way before.
But as I sit here, my thoughts aren’t on mergers and acquisitions or making executive decisions. No, instead, I’m too busy thinking about a raven-haired beauty who’s quickly taking over my life. And, if I’m honest with myself, my heart. Shaking myself out of it, I return my focus to the file in front of me and manage to get a few hours of work done, but she’s never far from my mind.
With a sigh, I finish going over the proposal, having made my suggestions, and toss it on my desk. Loosening my tie, I lean back in the chair and glance around my office. My first thought is that my desk is incomplete without a photo of Ariana and me. Perhaps, if I could see her, look at her smile, I could make it through my day. Plus, if I have a photograph of her, I’ll at least have something to hold on to when she’s gone.
When she’s gone.
The thought sends fury rushing through me and I grit my teeth, suddenly understanding why I’m so on edge. It’s not enough that she’s waiting for me when I get home.
Every second spent away from her is a second I could be losing out on. Because I have no idea when I’m going to come home and find her gone. And I’m realizing that I never want that day to come. I need to start showing her that I want her in more than just a physical sense. She’s so much more to me than a quick lay or someone to pass the time with. My life’s been turned upside down and inside out since she came into my life, and I wouldn’t change a single second of it.
In such a short time, she’s become my confidante. My companion. My closest friend—probably the only friend I have. And I can’t imagine her being out of my life. I don’t want to. She’s shown me compassion when I didn’t deserve it. She’s cared for me when everyone else would have probably let me fall down. She saw me at my lowest and didn’t turn her back on me. She’s given me hope for the future, but it’s only a future I want if she’s in it. It’s time I do everything in my power to prove to her just how much of a vital part of my life she’s become.
She once called me her savior, and yeah, I may have pulled her out of that burning car, but Ariana saved me from myself, my past, and the lonely future I was barreling towards.
Suddenly, the office feels suffocating and all I want is her. The high I used to feel when I commanded the boardroom or worked on a new project is gone. Eventually, I’ll have to find balance between work and home, but for now, I resign myself to the fact that I’ve become a junkie for her and I need my fix. Going cold turkey won’t work for me. It isn’t working for me.
Buzzing Caroline, I have her transfer all my afternoon calls to my home office. After packing up my briefcase, I head to Dad’s office with a pronounced limp, ready to beg if necessary.
Because I have a fiancée to woo.
WHEN I get home, I’m surprised to hear music blaring and even more surprised when I see her on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. The way her ass is sticking up in the air has me wanting to take advantage of her position by taking her from behind, but I refrain, knowing that this is the first step in proving that I don’t just want her for her body. But goddamn, it’s fucking hard because she looks sexy as hell in her tiny shorts and T-shirt, messy hair, and sweaty face as she works the polish into the wood.
Seeing the remote for the docking station on the end table, I grab it and lean against the wall, pressing pause, which stops the music—but not Ariana. She finishes out the chorus then looks up at me, a pink blush creeping over her cheeks. After a quick round of questioning, we have lunch in the kitchen, her eyes lighting up when I tell her why I’m home. The look on her face lets me know that I’m doing the right thing, and I’m suddenly aware that getting any work done this week is going to be a struggle. But if I’m going to find a way to balance my work life and my home life, this will be the first step.
Once I change into more comfortable clothes, I find her back in the hallway, scrubbing the floor again. I resist the urge to haul her up and throw her on the couch so we can continue our South Park marathon. Instead, I pause in the doorway of my office and look down at her.
