Waiting For Us (Beautiful Surrender, Part Three) (A Billionaire Romance) (3 page)

He looked miserable.

I felt like that should have brought me comfort. Some form of karma for the broken heart I refused to admit I had. But I didn't feel a sense of justice or that he got his comeuppance. My heart leapt to my throat as I stared at the image like I wanted to pull him from the television and into the room. Like I wanted to pull him into my arms. I wanted to tell him I missed him and I knew the timing of me saying I loved him couldn't have been worst if I planned it. I wanted to tell him that even though we only had a week together, it was the best week of my life...and that couldn't be it. I couldn't bear it if I never saw him again.

“Huh. I thought you weren't into all that celebrity gossip stuff?” Stacia snapped me from my thoughts. Her head was tilted slightly, like I was a puzzle she was trying to figure out, gathering the pieces together one by one.

I downed my coffee and gave her a smile so big it went to my hairline. “What can I say? It happens to the best of us.” I pushed back from the table, already planning my escape route. “I actually only have a few minutes. Lots of meetings back at the office.”

She rose too, but she gave me a little slack and didn't follow. Very minimal slack.

“I'm not dropping this, Melissa! We'll talk later.”

I gave her an awkward wave and stepped onto the bustling sidewalk, fading into the crowd. The Kaleidoscope building was right across the street, but I walked past it. I needed to move, to stay in motion. I wasn’t ready to admit that I was trying to outrun the memory of Logan’s lips pressed against mine.

I
collected myself as best I could as the elevator dragged me back up to Kaleidoscope's offices on the 15th floor. The door opened and the switch inside me flipped, turning my face bright and happy. Years of my father drilling into me that appearances were important, were everything, had been seared into my consciousness. Even though I wanted to climb into my car and drive to San Francisco, find Logan and do...
something
, I launched my heels forward, turning to my ever growing stack of projects.

I flashed Brenda Walker a smile that I mostly meant. She was  the receptionist for Kaleidoscope, perched at the front desk and the only one that gave it to my dad straight and still had her job. She was 65, with salt and pepper hair and kind eyes. I wasn't close with my grandparents, but if I would have had the opportunity to pick my grandmother, I would have picked Brenda.

I angled toward the back offices, but she waved me over, giddy with excitement. I slowly approached her, apprehension barely hitting my radar as I got caught up in her bright eyed bouncing.

“What's the occasion?” I bit my lip, adrenaline shooting through me like a rocket. “Oh my gosh is it Dietnem Motors? They decided to sign?”

She pushed her horn rimmed glasses to the bridge of her nose, only to have them fall back to their original place as she shook her head effusively. “No, it's much better than that!”

I was officially on the edge of my seat. The Dietnem family behind the regional stock car racing team had money in the bank...millions to spare that was burning a hole in their pocket since one of their drivers became an overnight sensation. The problem? The patriarch at the head of the family, Johnny Dietnem, was old school and hated every single concept he was presented with. After our last meeting when he all but stormed out, we were all waiting for them to say they were going with a different firm. Dad was offering a significant raise for whoever could get them to sign the dotted line.

Brenda clasped her hands together with glee. “Someone sent you flowers!”

I repeated it in my head twice before it clicked and when it registered, I gripped the side of her desk. How did Logan know that I'd been thinking about him? Missing him, craving him? My mouth was dry and dusty. I struggled to find the words, to say something, but only a croak came out.

Brenda gripped my hands tight, her joy cocooning me in warmth and care. “I'm so happy you found a nice boy after that no good Jason! You know first comes flowers, then comes marriage—”

I couldn't help but laugh at that. A grandmother through and through, trying to marry me off. “I'm not sure that's how it goes, Mrs. Walker.”

She let me go, nodding in the direction of my office. “It's a gorgeous arrangement.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Very expensive.”

I had to restrain myself to keep from dashing toward my office. I saw the interested looks from my co-workers, the questions sparkling in their eyes. I stepped into my office and shut the door behind me, then faced the most beautiful red roses I'd ever seen. I'd never truly noticed how monotone the rest of my office was until that moment. I was transported to some noir, black and white film, my desk, bookshelf, and office chair nothing extraordinary. The walls were blank and unimpressive. The only color sat perched beside my computer. The richest red. The color of passion. The color of forgiveness.

I barreled toward my desk, picking up the vase and burying my nose in the understated floral scent, water droplets spritzing my skin. It took me back to the beach. Back to him.

I bit my lip excitedly as I plucked the note from the center. I never would have pegged Logan for a flowers kind of guy, but he'd get no complaints from me. I remembered all but begging Jason to get me flowers and his rebuttal that I couldn't even keep my potted plants at my office alive. Trying to explain to him that it was the thought that counts was pointless. I backed down, just like always. Pretended I was happy with the scraps of love he gave me.

I pushed the memory away, not wanting it to further poison my moment. I opened the card, reading the note aloud.

“Forgive me, Mel.”

My heart slammed to a stop, then plummeted to the floor. The nickname, something I hated until he whispered it while he was making love to me...it wasn't, couldn't be Logan. My head refused to believe it, scrolling to the end. Hoping I was wrong.

Nothing's been right without you here. I made a terrible mistake. Please forgive me.—Jason

“No,” I whispered, clutching the vase so tightly I was surprised it didn't shatter in my hands. “No!” The word echoed around the room and returned to me, making me feel sick.

The flowers weren't from Logan. They were from my ex. The same ex who broke up with me because he fell for someone else.

The room blurred as tears filled my eyes. I was back in my apartment, wearing that ridiculous lingerie, so excited for him to come home. Hoping that night would be the start of better times. Happier times. The door opened, he took one look at me and asked, 'Are you wearing lingerie?' From his complete disinterest, he may as well have asked me
why
are you wearing lingerie. The Santa Cruz trip was supposed to be for us, but he'd dropped the bomb before I could even get it out. He wasn't in love with me anymore...he'd fallen for someone else. I'd kicked him out and was left alone, left with the wreckage of my broken heart and a trip I'd already paid for.

Something had clicked inside me and I decided to go without him.

And that's when I met Logan.

My heart clenched into a balled fist in my chest. I knew it wasn't fair to feel slighted by Logan or upset that he hadn’t sent the flowers. We weren't even technically a couple. He didn't owe me anything. He made me no promises besides a sexual experience that would liberate me, and he'd done just that. But I still felt a gut wrenching hollowness. I wanted to shut off the lights, close my blinds, and curl up on the floor and cry until there were no tears left to run down my cheeks. It would be so easy to sink to my knees, to give over to the emotion I'd been bottling up, the pain I thought was finally ending. I thought these flowers were a do-over, a second chance with Logan, not a too-late apology from the ex that never really got me in the first place.

A lone tear splashed onto my hand and I swear I felt the sadness in it down to my very bones. But it wasn't alone. The anger and refusal to shut down rushed over me, beckoning me like a old friend. I one handed the roses, using the other to wipe my face. I put the vase back where I found it, sniffling as I dumped the note in the wastebasket.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Not here.

Dad would be so embarrassed, and we can't have that, can we?

I'd have to save the falling apart for when I got home. Always smiling. Always professional. Heaven forbid I act human or show emotions like pain or sadness.

Usually that pep talk was all I needed to shut down everything else, but today the dam just wasn't springing up. Tears rushed back to the surface, threatening to force me to break down whether I wanted to or not.

“Air,” I said hoarsely, yanking my door open and vaulting myself forward. Air and putting some distance between me and those ugly, smelly, stupid roses—

Boom!

I staggered backward, reeling. Somehow my reflexes kicked in five seconds too late as I caught the iPad that flew in my direction. I held tight to it, my face falling as I came face to face with none other than Carl Dietnem, the youngest of our prospective clients. His claim to fame was that he seemed content to spend every meeting ogling my breasts. Even though I'd nearly knocked him to the floor, you'd never know it because the guy's piercing blue eyes were, surprise-surprise, locked on my chest.

I held out the iPad and held back the urge to slap him across my face. “Mr. Dietnem! I'm so—”

“Mr. Dietnem, I am so sorry!” My dad's apology boomed over mine and he stepped in front of me, like I was a servant who'd just spilled wine and brought shame on my employers. Like I wasn't his daughter, that he raised with manners and the ability to apologize when I screwed up. Like I was nothing but an employee.

“Get the hell out of my way, Dad!”

I'd never seen him move so fast. My dad was a big man, built like a wall of brick, imposing. I got my blue eyes from him—but that's where the freebies ended. He made me work for everything, including his affection. Right now there was no affection to be found in his narrowed gaze, nothing but shock and building anger. My first sin was talking back, the second was profanity. He was old school. I think if I had a brother, he wouldn't have supported me going into a field like business at all. Maybe art or teaching or nursing. And cursing? That was as far from ladylike and respectable that I could get.

I knew he wanted me to hang my head and tuck my tail between my legs and slink back to my office, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. The whole room was quiet, everyone suddenly tuned into our conversation. None of them even existed to me. It was just me and my dad. Or, he should have been my dad. At the moment, he was just my employer, and I had some grievances to air.

“If you're waiting for an apology, you'll have to wait until I finish my first one.”

Shock won out briefly and Dad gaped at me. “W-what?”

I sidestepped him, making eye contact with Carl, who wasn't eye harassing me because he too, was in speechless awe. “I'm sorry I ran into you.”

The reprieve was brief as he licked his lips, winking. “You can run into me anytime, baby.”

I scoffed disgustedly, pulling my blazer shut. I remembered my dad and stood a little taller. Eyeing me was one thing, but no way would he let that fly, even if I was being mouthy.

But Dad didn't say a word. Everyone in the office had heard what Carl said, and my father couldn't even be bothered to put Dietnem in his place.

Of course not. It might cost the account.

Tears choked me, but I wouldn't be silenced. Not this time. “Did you even notice when I was gone? Did you even care?”

“Melissa—”

“I'm not finished Dad!” I snarled, whirling to face him. “You know what I need right now, more than a boss? A father. I need you to see me. But what's the point of wanting that, wishing for it? I've been invisible to you since the day I was born.”

The gasps and murmurs rippled across the room. There it was, our dirty laundry waving in the wind. I saw it hit my dad like a blow to the chest; to his perfectly crafted image. But just as quickly as he looked ready to rip me a new one, it was scrubbed away, replaced by the consummate businessman, the unfeeling robot I'd known all of my life.

“We will discuss this later, Melissa.”

My nostrils flared as humiliation burned red brands in my cheeks. I shook my head slowly, hurt knocking the air from my lungs. “No, we won't.”

I didn't say anything else, holding it together as best I could until I stepped out of the building, then let my tears carry me to my car.

I
swung into my assigned parking stall and jerked my car into park. My car shuddered as I killed the engine, grumbling about my taking out my crap day on it. There was no one else. I didn't have the guts to face my dad again, I refused to even acknowledge Jason's attempt at reconciliation, and Logan...I dug deep and I still couldn't find the will to be angry at him. So my car drew the short straw.

I went around to the backseat and pulled out my bag, stuffed to the brim with all the things I had to do tonight since I called it an early day. Mrs. Walker took pity on me and saved me from the walk of shame, bringing it down for me just as I was psyching myself into going back in the building. I found no judgment, or questions in her coal black eyes—nothing but concern. She didn’t say anything more than 'Take care of yourself' and I broke down, sobbing like a child, right there in the parking garage. She held me, letting me use her blouse as my tissue and her arms for comfort. When I was done I apologized, feeling even worse when I realized she'd given me more love in those five minutes than my father had given me in the last five years.

I bumped the door closed with my hip, an even sadder thought slicing through my mind.
Five years? Try your whole life.

The tears seeped from my heart like poison, filling my eyes. I could cry now, walk into my apartment and shut the world out and let go, but I stood my ground and held them back. Tears would get me nowhere, and I had a lot to catch up on if I intended to strut into the office tomorrow like nothing happened. Pretend I was perfectly capable of handling my job and not a complete nutcase.