7. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Steph
M y blood is boiling. I’m so angry. At so many things that I can’t even wrap my head around them all. And it seems that I'm mad at everyone. Moira, Malcolm, Dougall, everyone. The worst part is that I’m becoming the girl that I’ve always hated. I don’t want to not want him to go out with this lass. It never used to matter to me. I would just move on. I would just grab the next lad that showed interest in me. And it’s pissing me off that I don’t want to do that. Malcolm has rejected me twice. Both times because I’ve chosen inappropriate moments to make my move.
...so I don’t know why I feel like now is any different.
The parking lot is desolate in the spot where I’ve parked. My car sits alongside a minivan and a BMW, respectively. Nobody is in either vehicle or in any of them that surround us. As Malcolm numbly walks me to my car, having turned his off and parked in a vacant spot about ten cars away, I feel the angst building up inside me. Nonetheless, as I press my key fob and unlock my door, he opens it for me, being the gentleman that he is, and I take this rare opportunity to plant a soft kiss on his mouth. He doesn’t expect it at first, and it isn’t a full-on grope, like the last attempt.
“What was that for?” He asks softly, eyes on my mouth, making my stomach flutter.
“Thank you.” I say, searching his eyes. “It was a thank you.”
“Well, you’re welcome.” He says, and I can tell that he’s still processing what just happened.
I decide to make another attempt at it and lean in. He mirrors me and leans in, and I plant another soft kiss on his lips, this time I make it last longer than the first. By his hooded eyes, as he pulls back, he enjoyed that. I try it again, kissing him full on the mouth, but still keeping it gentle and slow, and once again, he reciprocates. But this time, when he pulls back, he looks confused. “I don’t quite understand you, lass.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask in almost a whisper, not wanting to break the spell.
“Well, your moves have been rough, aggressive, almost possessive up until now. What’s changed?”
I don’t know how to answer that.
And then he figures it out. “Is this because of Clare?”
Oh...it has a name...
“No.” I lie. “I really don’t care who you’ve fucked in the past.”
“Especially since you and I haven’t fucked yet, right?” He asks, and his tone is almost condescending, even though he speaks the truth.
I swallow. “No.” Another lie. I’ve never been much of a liar, especially with my own feelings. But with Malcolm, I feel so goddamn vulnerable, I have no choice but to lie, since I don’t want him to see my truth. “Look, I just wanted to kiss you. Is that such a bad thing?”
His eyes are still on my lips. “No. I suppose not.” His eyes search mine again. “I really wish I could tell what’s going on inside that head of yours, lass.”
If only you knew...
If only I knew...
Malcolm brings out things in me that I never knew I had. Feelings that I don’t want to feel. Things I don’t want to do. I just want to fuck him and hope to God that that gets it out of my system. But, somehow, I know that in my heart of hearts, that that just won’t cut it. “You should go, Malcolm.” Another swallow. “You don’t want to be late for your date.” I tell him, not daring to utter the bitches’ name. Then I feel brave, since he’s still in my personal space, and not showing any signs of wanting to move. My hand goes to his neck, and I softly, gently, pull him to me. I envelop my lips on his, feeling drunk on power, as he follows my lead, like this is what he’s wanted to do all along.
The soft kiss is intoxicating. His lips are so sweet and full, and they speak to me, telling me that he wants more, and so do I. But right now, I just want to plant that seed. Give him something to think about while he sips wine with Clare, the whore. The beast that had him once, and then let him go. As our lips make a smacking noise, breaking the seal, he pulls back up and surprises me.
...he smiles.
I smile back.
“Thank you.” He says.
“For what?”
“For treating me like a human, and not like a piece of meat, for once.”
I search his eyes. The way that he said it was like a silent plea. It was like he was saying, ‘please don’t hurt me’. And I can see it in his eyes that he’s been hurt before, just like me. It scares me. It scares me that maybe deep down, he’s just as vulnerable as I am. And the scariest part is that I think he can see it. “You should go, Malcolm. Uncle Dougall will have your balls if he knows that you kept the lass waiting. Especially if it was to do a favor for me.”
He sighs, lowering his head, like he knows that I’m right, but he doesn’t want to break the spell. As he rakes a hand through his hair, he shakes his head, responding to something going on inside his head, to his own thoughts. “You’re heading to the office, lass?” He asks, as if ignoring his inner voice.
“Aye.”
With a nod, I watch him walk back to his truck. He waits until I pull out before he does, and I can see him following me. His truck doesn’t disappear until I’m on the turnoff from the freeway that leads to my office. And as I keep my eyes on my rearview mirror, like I’m desperately searching for him, but I know that he’s gone, I realize that I already miss him. I can still feel his lips soft on mine. I can still taste his sweetness. It’s unsettling and yet it calms me. And then I think about this Clare freak that he’s going to lunch with, and my lip curls into a snarl. If I didn’t have an important meeting this afternoon, and hours of work to catch up on, I’d do what only an obsessed teen would do...I’d follow him and eavesdrop.
But I’m an adult with responsibilities, so instead, I take two minutes and see if I can dig up anything on this Clare bitch on social media. Malcolm is not connected to her in any way, but I do find a Clare that is connected to Rory Tate, the pilot slash security guard, and I take a look at her profile. Evidently, she’s the co-owner of some high-class investment brokerage firm. Her da is the CEO and based on the photos, they’re super tight. I bet she’ll kiss his ass well enough to get what she wants. Twenty bucks says that she wanted Malcolm way more than he wanted her.
I bet she saw him and asked her da to buy him for her. I'm sure that went over well with Malcolm, even though it appears that Dougall Harris would have sold his nephew’s soul to the devil for a pittance. No wonder Malcolm is so bitter to make acquaintance with her again. Or is he? The worst part is that she’s fucking beautiful. And not like paid for beautiful, like born that way beautiful. It makes me nauseous. And she’s not even a slut, either, from the looks of her. She dresses well. Her tits are where they should be. She’s not painted over with makeup that’s been applied with a butter knife. And I’ll bet that those lashes came with her big green eyes, too.
“Fucking wench!” I growl, tossing my phone on the passenger seat. Feeling beyond frustrated, helpless, jealous, and I hate it that I feel all those things. But most of all, I hate it that once again, I feel vulnerable, and once again, I feel like I’ve crept back into my teenage years, to the years where I was the ugly duckling. The years where boys wouldn’t look twice at me, except if it was to make a snide remark at my braces, my awkwardness, my complete lack of confidence that each of them knew they could prey on.
They’ve all kissed my ass since I grew up and focused on my brains rather than my appearance. My da always told me that the right man will see me for what’s inside. A jealous cunt, who was so insecure of the fact that she wasn’t smart enough to recite the fucking alphabet, once told me that my da’s sentiment was just something that you say to ugly people to make them feel better. But I’ve shown them all. After I got my degrees, I built my life up, made myself a landslide success and more. And now I can fuck any man that I want to fuck and not feel a damn thing for him.
And that’s exactly what I do...
...until now.
Is that the reason why I’m so rattled by him? Or is it that I really feel something for him? After I shake off the fucked up vibe that I’m getting from this whole situation, I decide that it’s time to focus again, and get back in touch with the Steph that I know and love. I can’t waste any more energy on this right now, and I have a business to tend to. It’s the perfect cover. It’s the cover that, up until now, has always worked. But try as I might, each time I have a vacant moment, my thoughts go to Malcolm and the whore, and I worry about whether or not he’s feeling nostalgic around her, or wanting to punch her in the face, like I am.
...only time will tell.
Malcolm
My hands go to my lips as I walk away from Steph. Sure, my cock is awake, I’m not going to deny that, but I’m more pleasantly shocked. That kiss was unexpected. From her, I’d expect a slap right afterward, but nothing. And I can’t help but wonder if she’d feel differently had I not told her about my lunch with Clare. Fool. Of course she would feel differently. The stakes are higher now. There’s more risk if she turns her back on me. If she’s really got feelings for me, that is. But something tells me that I’m just another one of her conquests.
That being said, it doesn’t make me feel any better when I pull up to the restaurant where I agreed to meet Clare. I have no idea what to say to her. It’s been over three years since we’ve spoken, and it was a messy breakup. She couldn’t understand why I wanted to part ways, even though I made it clear to her, that we were not meant to be together. Part of me wants to turn around and leave, figuring that there has to be a reason why Clare is reaching out, and I have to be truthful with her and tell her that the only reason why I’m here is to appease my uncle.
When I walk into the restaurant, I don’t see her there, and part of me wants her to stand me up. I actually smile when the ma?tre d says that my guest hasn’t arrived yet. There is no mistaking what that means. And that is that I’d sooner eat lunch alone than have her as my company. I take a seat at the bar, while I wait, with my fingers crossed, hoping that Clare will come to her senses and realize that this meeting is for naught. But part of me is also a little bit curious as to why she wants to meet with me. Although that can be figured out with a simple phone call.
To my chagrin, just as the bartender brings me my beer, Clare walks in the front door. I see her first before she sees me and it takes everything in me not to scooch down off the bar stool and skulk my way to the men’s room and escape out the back exit before I’m seen. When she sees me, I see a fleeting look on her face, like she’s having a change of heart. But then she lifts her hand in a tight wave to me, and the ma?tre d motions her my way. Clare looks exactly the same, except that her hair is a little longer in front. I push my hand out to her and remember that she’s left-handed. Part of me wishes that she’s got a ring on her finger, but then I feel like a fool for even thinking that.
Her brown hair is tied back in what I’m guessing is called a chignon. I’ve seen my auntie wear her hair back in that for important business meetings. With that knowledge, I relax slightly, since there is a small chance that she is here on business. “How are you?” She starts with.
“Just fine, lass. And you?” I ask, as one of the waitresses sees us to our table.
“I’m great.” She sighs as we sit down.
“That’s great to hear. I was going to say that you look exactly the same as when I last saw you.”
She smiles. “You, too.”
The waitress asks if we want to order drinks and Clare orders a virgin Shirley Temple, but I decline, since I already have a beer. Then she leaves us with menus and walks away. “So, I heard that you were out of town for a while?”
Clare nods. “Aye. I went back to Scotland. Da wanted me to take care of things back at home for a while.”
“Is everything okay?”
She waves. “Aye. It was just to secure the business. Our flagship location is there.”
“Aye. I know that all too well.” I chuckle.
“I’m sure you do. I bet your uncle is very happy about this meeting.” She guesses good-naturedly.
I go for bold. “Truth is, he told me that if I can secure your da’s company, that he’ll take a nasty client off my roster.”
“That doesn’t seem like the punishment fits the crime if you ask me. If you were to take on our company, I’d say that you should be given the cream of the crop of clients.” Modesty, anyone? And just when I think that her head is too big for her britches, she smiles. “I’m just kidding. You Harris boys have grown a lot since we last spoke.”
I’m curious. “So, tell me, why did you want to meet? If this is about business, why wouldn’t we do this at the office?”
She smiles shyly. “Ah, so I take it that your brother Rush didn’t tell you.”
“No, he didn’t. What is it that I need to know...or is this still top secret?”
“Not that it matters now, as it was a long time ago.” She confesses. “But he and I had a thing after you. It ended ugly.”
I’m shocked, but somehow, I don’t really care. “Uglier than when we parted ways?”
“He thinks that the only reason why I slept with him is because I was trying to get back at you, or because you and Rush are the two Harris brothers that bare the closest resemblance. Either way it’s sick and I didn’t really care to see him again.”
“So, I’m the lesser of two evils, then.” I surmise.
She licks her lips. “More or less, yes.”
Well, that sets my mind slightly at ease, at least for the part that the purpose of this meeting isn’t to get back together. That only leaves one question. “So, tell me, Clare. Are you interested in doing business with Harris Investments?”
“Well, I’m not here because I hold a torch for you, Malcolm. If that’s what you were thinking.” I can’t tell if she’s being snide, teasing, or if she’s just setting the record straight.
“Aye. Then I thank you. My Uncle Dougall will be pleased.”
“And you can rid yourself of this client that you don’t like?”
And just as she says this, the waitress comes to take our orders. “I’d say that this calls for a little celebration, don’t you think?” I ask Clare.
“What did you have in mind?” She asks me.
“How about your finest bottle of wine?” I say to the waitress.
Clare touches my hand. “Oh, no. I couldn’t. What about a decadent dessert instead?” She says nervously, like suddenly she’s a Mormon and forbidden to drink.
“Aye, whatever you like, lass.” I look at the waitress. “Bring us the dessert menu, and we’ll take whatever the most expensive meal is that you have.”
Clare peers at the trifold in front of her. “Oh, that sounds fabulous.”
“Right away, sir.” The waitress says and takes our menus. “I’ll be right back.”
The look on Clare’s face is unreadable. But I leave it alone. The truth is, I have no idea what the lass has been up to these past few years, nor do I really care. All that I care about is that she does, in fact, want to do business with Harris Investments, and this will make my uncle very proud. “So, what have you been up to?” She asks me, changing the subject.
“Work. That’s pretty much it.”
“No girlfriend?”
“No. I don’t really have the time.” I half lie. When I’m up for it, I make the time. Or my cousins or brothers make it for me. I’m surprised that Rush never mentioned that he’d slept with Clare. It’s also surprising that he had a thing for her. He never gave me an inkling. I never suspected it. “So, you and Rush, huh.” I comment, changing the subject yet again. The idea of discussing my brother and her past affair is less uncomfortable than talking about our failed relationship.
“It was a fling. Nothing more.”
I decide that I’d rather talk about this than us. “So, why did it end ugly?”
“I told you already. He accused me of only wanting to sleep with him to get back at or over you.”
“And what prompted the accusation? And the affair, for that matter?”
“I don’t know. I think that he was upset because I was leaving for my post in Scotland. Even though he could have easily seen me there whenever he wanted to. And as far as the affair, it was one of those things. It just happened. I ran into him somewhere. I don’t even remember where, and we got to talking, and next thing I knew he was in my bed.”
“So, it sounds like you asked him into your bed. Am I right?”
“No offence, Malcolm, but you Harris boys don’t need much convincing in that department.”
I’m partly offended by this. Seeing as I haven’t slept with Steph yet. But I don’t dare bring that up. “And you haven’t spoken to him since?”
“No. And I don’t care to, either.”
“But you wanted to talk to me.” I comment. “It seems to me that the best alternative would have been to speak to my Uncle Dougall. Or Caleb, or any of us, for that matter. Why did you come to me first?”
She answers too quickly. “Because I know you the best, Malcolm. I didn’t think it would be a problem, but I can see that maybe it was.”
Suddenly, I remember the motivation for this lunch, just as our food is delivered. “Nah, it’s fine, lass. I was just testing you is all. The truth is, the last thing I need is more complications. I just wanted to make sure that your motive for this meeting wasn’t to reconcile with me.”
After a long sip of her drink, she answers. “Aye. I’m the same, Malcolm. I don’t need any more complications.” The way she says it and the look behind her eyes says that there is much more to that statement.
...but I won’t find out about it until the worst possible moment.