Saturday, December 17 #2
In a state of shock, or was it denial, she sat emotionally comatose in her desk chair.
Knock … knock …
Angelica sucked in and exhaled a behemoth breath, fluttering the illustrations on the desktop. She got up, unfluffed her hair (which meant she tried to flatten it), and shuffled her hesitant legs toward the door, longing for the days of paralysis.
As she opened her front door with a squeak of the hinge, there he stood in his signature glory. Impeccably styled—never a hair out of place—his hair shimmered enough to warrant sunglasses—and his deep, dark eyes were almost the color of his striking mane (if you ignore the streaks of gray).
But the color of Nicholas’s eyes wasn’t their claim to fame. It was their dreamy, piercing gaze that belonged on the silver screen and the take-your-breath-away effect that left you breathless for too long and hot between your legs.
Top this all off with the finishing touch, his calling card—a custom suit.
Today, not only was it black, but the thin tie, an Armani …
Something about it flickered in her mind …
Elegant and so familiar … What…? When…? Oh well, it matched too.
If not for the shirt, a shade of white, whiter than white, he’d be the man in black.
The man in black, coming to her home unannounced and on a mission, looking for things she wasn’t willing to give up.
“What are you doing here, Nicholas?” Angelica asked, heavy on the furious side, as she held onto the doorknob, dressed to impress. Fuzzy kitty slippers to go with her jeans. What if she wasn’t home? Worse yet, what if Matt were still here?
“That’s the welcome I get after driving 200 miles? If I knew you were in the woods, I’d have taken a truck. How the hell does anyone drive on these roads?” he scoffed, one hand on his hip and the other on the door jamb. “So, are you going to invite me into the house I paid for, or not?”
Angelica hesitated before opening the door wider and stepping aside.
No matter how she came by the money, she felt she had the right to consider it her home.
Nicky viewed it somewhat differently, repeatedly asking to see it.
She always found an excuse to divert his travels.
Now that he was standing in her living room, she presumed he’d heard one excuse too many.
And he was here for more than a house tour.
Nicholas walked in, and when he went to kiss her, she turned her head.
His lips landed on her cheek instead. Daisy raced into the living room to check out the company.
She looked as impressed as her mother. The feline stopped in her tracks, sized up the man, and then charged back into the guest bedroom.
Never trust a man your cat doesn’t trust!
He placed his jacket over the back of her desk chair and took a quick look around her home—her compact living room, a closet compared to his residence—and frowned.
“This is it? You gave up the penthouse for a house with paneling?” He laughed mockingly.
Angelica ran her hands through her hair, ending the flattened look. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.” What would she have done if she had known?
“Mind if I sit?” He sauntered over to the Queen Anne chair by the fireplace without waiting for her reply. “All things considered, you look wonderful. I like your hair that way. Wild and sexy.”
Her stomach rolled, and she patted her hair down again. “Nicholas, why are you here?”
“Let me see, let me count the reasons.” He gripped the armrests, settled against the high-backed chair, and smirked.
“First, I miss you. Second, I’m tired of talking to you on the phone instead of seeing your beautiful face in person. Third, I brought you something.” He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a folded check, and, leaning forward, placed it on the coffee table.
Angelica went over to the couch across from him and flopped down. “You could have mailed it or added it to my checking account online,” she said, sliding her hands under her thighs.
“Is this all I’ve become? This is ridiculous. I want you to come back home. How many times have we had this conversation? You need me to take care of you. I’ve done it for years, so you can’t argue that I’m not good at it.
“And you don’t belong here. You’re better than this.” His hand swept from left to right in front of him, as if she lived in a homeless encampment.
Better than this? What does that mean? As if serenity, country living, and clean air were beneath her or anyone else. Should the girl from a manufacturing town aspire only to luxury rather than to a simple way of life? Angelica felt the rush of blood to her face.
“What did you want that I didn’t give you?” he asked.
“You know, Nicholas,” she railed, “you just don’t get it, do you?”
“Do you want to fill me in, then?”
“There’s no point if I have to tell you,” she griped. Wondering how many times they had that discussion.
Nicholas rolled his bedroom eyes. “How about you give me a tour of your mansion?”
He may have invaded her cabin, but she wasn’t inviting him into her boudoir. “There’s no point in that either, since my humble little shack isn’t good enough for you.”
“Okay, I’m in your personal space. I should have called.” Nicholas rose with a start. “I didn’t, though, and I bet you know why. Now that I’m here, humor me. Let’s go out to eat. I’m hungry, I need a drink, and I want your company.”
She sneered at him.
“Look, we need to talk, Angelica. And I’m not doing it over a burger and fries. I want you to come down to the condo.”
“I’m not moving back!”
“I didn’t say anything about staying.” He ran his hand through his hair. There goes Mr. Perfection, she mused.
“I’m asking you to come for Christmas and to celebrate your birthday. Make a weekend of it. Let’s communicate, dear. Or should I say, you talk and I’ll listen. I know that’s one of my shortcomings,” Nicholas said, sounding contrite and out of character.
“I should have done it a long time ago, but I want to change. Say whatever you want about me. I know I’ve made mistakes, sweetheart.”
Angelica sat there debating. She didn’t want to spend time with him.
They shared history, bad history. When something ends poorly, it can’t restart well.
But she needed the money. She glanced at the corner of the coffee table.
The folded slip of paper. This was like Jeopardy, betting it all or nothing on the unknown.
Nicholas picked up the check and held it in front of her between two fingers, like a piece of candy. “I figured you could use this.” His charismatic eyes sparkled.
One way or another, her predicament hadn’t changed. When she lived with Nicholas, despite the opulence, she wasn’t free, and an empty spirit dwelled within her. Now the cards were turned. Although she loved her freedom, her cabin, and her nurturing surroundings, her finances were running on empty.
Angelica took the paper lifeline from him and flipped it open. Her breath caught for a second. She swallowed hard, sure she’d hate herself in the morning.
“Let me change before we go out, Nicky. We can discuss our Christmas plans over lunch and decide when the limo should pick me up next Friday.”
She had bet it all.