Beautiful Surrender
Page 7“Wait. Just a moment.” I heard some mumbling in the background. “Shit. I’m sorry, Kristen. I have a meeting right now. But whatever you want to tell me sounds important. Is it an emergency? Can I meet you later? I’ll try my hardest to be done by six.”
“You’re at work on a Sunday?”
There was another mumble in the background. “Yeah, sorry. We have a lot going on over here right now.”
I breathed deeply, reaffirmed in my decision that we were both too busy to make this work. “I’ll drop by your office at six thirty then.”
Meeting him at his office as opposed to his place or my place would make it easier to leave after the discussion. It would’ve been easier just to tell him over the phone but I supposed it was more appropriate to handle this in person.
His voice brightened. “Can’t wait to see you then.”
“Bye Vincent.”
When evening rolled around, I gingerly stepped out my front door in jeans and a t-shirt. It’d been nearly two days since I left the apartment. I made sure to pack my taser in my purse before I went over to Vincent’s office in case I ran into any more trouble along the way.
As expected, the commute downtown was less crowded than usual since most people weren’t working. High-powered CEOs were one of the exceptions. I made it to the Red Fusion offices to find a few people crunching on their laptops. I was about to ring Vincent when an employee who recognized me from before kindly opened the glass door. I thanked him and he promptly returned to his desk to work on his keyboard. Knowing the way to Vincent’s office, I walked down the hall and stopped in front of his door. This wasn’t going to be an easy discussion, but it had to be done.
I took a deep breath then went inside.
Vincent was at his desk, brows furrowed and typing furiously. He was in his usual elegant New York attire: white shirt with red-striped tie and black pants. When he saw me—those dark brown eyes piercing me like arrows—he stopped working and smiled. “Kristen.”
“Hey,” I said, returning his smile. I kept one hand in my jeans and waved at him with the other.
He glided around the desk and hugged me tightly, the squeeze making my legs turn to jelly momentarily. As always, he smelled wonderful. The spicy scent tickled my nostrils as well as other parts of my body. He kissed me on the forehead then the tip of my nose. “I’m so glad you’re here. I thought you’d call so I could let you in.”
“I was going to when one of your employees let me inside,” I said as he led me by the hand to his leather couch in the corner. I was reminded of the first time I entered this office intending to make another case for choosing Waterbridge-Howser as his wealth management firm but wound up almost having sex with him instead. That was a distressing time in my life but not quite as distressing as recent events.
“I got you these.” He reached for the coffee table and handed me a bouquet of red roses. There was a card attached with a small puffin on the front. It looked rough, like it was drawn with crayons by a child.
“Did you draw this picture?” I asked.
“Yeah, you like it?” He sounded proud of his work.
I had to stifle a laugh. A smile broke out on my face despite myself. “Let’s just hope the inside makes up for it.”
The card read:
Kristen, I’m sorry. I messed up. I lied to you and didn’t respect your choices. Give me a chance to make it up to you.
Yours, Vincent
“I’m glad you like it.” He smiled, his boyish grin making my insides mushy. “So what did you want to tell me earlier today? It sounded important.”
I carefully put the items on the seat next to me and exhaled, gathering up the courage to tell him what I’d planned on saying. “I want to take a break.”
His smile faded and his dark eyes studied me. “What kind of break?”
“A break from us.”
“Temporary or permanent?”
“Temporary. For now at least. My life is too crazy at the moment and I’m sure you’re really stressed out as well. It’ll be good for both of us.”
His gaze narrowed. “The only time I’m not stressed is when I’m with you.”
I looked at him skeptically. “What about your work? You’ve seemed pretty worried about it the last few weeks.”
“Work is work. I can manage it, especially when I’m thinking about you. It helps to have something to look forward to.”
“I thought you said I was a distraction?”
“That was when my priorities were different. Seems so long ago. Now work is the distraction.”
“And I’m your main concern now? Is it because of Marty?”
“It’s because the way I feel about you. You’re more than a concern. You’re a part of my life.”
“You’ve been so busy lately. I’ve hardly seen you. I don’t feel like I’ve been that big of a part of your life.”
I expected him to have some kind of charming response but instead, he bent down and casually slipped off each of his black loafers, leaving him in his black socks. He set his shoes near my feet. Then he started slipping off my flats.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
He managed to slip off one when I pulled my legs away.
“I sincerely hope that you’re not expecting us to have sex on your couch. I know you’re all for ‘finishing what we started’ but roses and a cute card aren’t going to cut it.”
His expression was unreadable. “Give me your feet. I want to show you something.”
“What for?”
Sensing he didn’t intend for us to have sex, I gingerly scooched my legs back and offered him the foot with the remaining shoe. He gently removed it and inserted my feet in his loafers.
I felt the lingering warmth of his feet on my own. I looked down and was fascinated by the maleness of the shoe. The texture of the leather was smooth and glossy but the slight crease near the toes and various small nicks gave it a rough, unrefined edge. The shape narrowing sharply at the toes seemed to point forward like a general points his hand to rally an army’s charge. I imagined Vincent wearing these in a variety of scenarios: walking to high-powered meetings, standing in front of a podium giving a company-wide speech, bending down to pick up a quarter. My drab flats looked feminine and dainty in comparison.
I wiggled my toes inside, probing the empty space between the inner lining and my feet. Although comfortable, the loafers were much too big for me. They might as well have been clown shoes.
“Now close your eyes for a moment.”
I did as he asked, expecting further instructions. After an awkward minute of not receiving any, I opened my eyes.
Vincent looked at me expectantly. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“What do you feel?”
I wiggled my toes again. “Umm . . . a soft insole? I don’t know. What am I supposed to feel?”
“You’re supposed to feel the muscles in your legs tensing, blood coursing between them, your cock getting hard like steel.”
“Um, what?”
“You experience an intense attraction to Kristen. You were thinking about product strategy before but now your thoughts are turning dirty. You can’t think straight. All you can think about is when you’re going to see Kristen again. And if anyone hurts her, there will be hell to pay. Then you realize she’s what you want. All you’ve ever wanted.” He put his hand on my leg, the warmth seeping through the denim to my skin. “When you put yourself in my shoes. That’s what you feel.”
“Oh.”
“Now imagine feeling that all the time. During meetings; on the plane; while you’re eating . . . You see now how you’re a part of my life?”
I nodded. “You make a good point.”
“Do you still want to see me?”
Vincent’s charm was starting to take its effect on me but I still had reservations. Maybe I’d built up resistance to him from all our time together. “I don’t know. Yes and no.”
“What are the reasons for ‘yes’?”
I put my finger on my chin and thought about it. “You make a mean omelette.”
“That’s it?”
“And the orgasms?”
“They’re a nice perk but I think I could go without them and be okay.”
“Then I have room for improvement. Okay, what are the reasons for ‘no’?”
“I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“You’ve trusted me in the past.”
“That’s true.”
“The bar in Cape Town, surfing, being discreet about our dating, blindfolds, cybersex, sex on my plane . . . am I missing anything?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“And I messed up by getting that security team. And for not telling you about Giselle’s ex-boyfriend, which you must admit is not a complete breach in trust. More like a half-breach.”
I mused about it. “All right, I’ll give you that.”
“Also the Ariel text message was a misunderstanding so that doesn’t count.”
“It pissed me off so I’d say that’s a half-breach.”
“Fine. Even so, it’s six in support of trusting me versus two in support of distrusting me. I’d say the odds are in my favor.”
“In terms of numbers, maybe. But numbers are soft when there’s feelings involved.”
“Do you still have feelings for me?”
“Yes. I do. But I still think we should take a break.”
He tried inserting his feet into my flats but only managed to squeeze a few toes inside.