Command (27 page)

There was no need to stay now that they’d made the presentation. David, her second-in-command, had filled in long enough. Though she’d known her time with Grant was winding down, she hadn’t suspected the end would be so abrupt.

Aria hazarded a glance at Grant. His jaw was tight, and she couldn’t read anything in his expression.

“According to her potential flight plan, she would arrive in Los Alamos around seven o’clock,” Julien continued. “It’ll give you time to pack, wrap things up. You’ll be home by nine.”

Slowly, she nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

Chapter Eleven

Grant waved his airport badge in front of the security camera. A moment later, the arm lifted and he drove onto the property.

Julien’s hybrid plane, the spectacular Tornado, was already there, waiting for Aria.

All afternoon, he’d wanted to say something—express emotions—but hadn’t.

Instead, they’d spent a few minutes in the workshop after ending the call, discussing how well things had gone, congratulating each other.

But tension had made the air thin.

He knew she wanted him to accept a great role at Bonds, maybe even head the ‘Hello, Molly’ implementation team—and he was the natural choice. Aria’s talents were best utilized where she was. But Grant…

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what Julien wanted. The man had mentioned Ben Marley’s name as division leader on purpose. Grant had wanted Marley fired after the phone fiasco, but Julien had remained steadfast, stupidly so in Grant’s opinion. Julien generally had little patience when people failed, especially when it happened so publicly and spectacularly.

But Marley had admitted the fuckup, accepted responsibility and worked tirelessly to restore the public’s confidence.

Grant maintained it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

So mentioning Marley as a potential division leader had been calculated to piss Grant off, and it had worked. Mostly because he hated being manipulated, and Julien had been doing more meddling than usual lately. Julien could take his fucking brilliant ideas and shove them up someone else’s ass.

When he’d lapsed into silence, Aria had excused herself, saying she’d needed to pack.

Since there’d been a lot of the day left and no reason to continue working together, he’d returned to the workshop.

Later, they’d headed to town and had an early dinner at the Montoyas’ place.

For the first time since the meeting with Julien, Aria had been animated, asking Blanca about the app, how the beta testing was doing then, boldly, she’d asked about Julien.

“He invited me to have dinner with him,” Blanca had confessed.

Aria had pretended to be surprised. “Are you going to do it?”

“Have dinner with a billionaire in San Francisco? Are you kidding me? He’s going to send a plane and a pilot.” Then she’d grinned. “I didn’t tell him I’m bringing my sister and my mother.”

Grant and Aria had exchanged glances, and they’d both laughed.

“Priceless,” Aria had said.

“I’m not letting him get any ideas. If he thinks he can get me to do the bedsheet wiggle with him, he’s wrong.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Aria had asked after Blanca had pushed send on her phone app and left the table.

“Hell no.”

“Me either.”

They’d enjoyed that laugh, but had spent the rest of the meal talking in general terms about world events and the upcoming opening of the Bonds’ store in Boston.

“I’ll be there,” she’d said.

Instead of replying, he’d paid the bill.

Grant parked the SUV inside the designated area and watched an airport employee push the stairs up to the Tornado’s side.

Time seemingly warped, vanishing and stretching endlessly at the same time.

He left the engine running, and she made no move to exit the vehicle.

There was so much he wanted to say, needed to say. And fuck it, he couldn’t find the words.

Last night, he’d held her after they’d made love. He’d wanted to confess how much she meant to him, how much her submissive trust had jolted him, how her presence invigorated him, energizing his creativity. But then, as now, he’d had no idea what to say.

The truth was, it didn’t matter how much he cared. He was a selfish prick. He’d have extreme expectations of her as his cherished submissive, and she’d made it clear she wanted to make her own choices.

Over the last week, he’d noticed that the enforced isolation had started to bother her. The trip to Santa Fe had helped, but even that hadn’t been enough.

She had a company to lead, and Bonds needed her as much as she needed the stimulation. He refused to be arrogant and ask her to give that up.

In the dim lighting, he saw that she wore his bracelet. He told himself that was enough.

“You were an amazing host. Thank you,” she said, turning to him with false, sunny brightness.

“Aria…” Since he didn’t know what else to say, he kept his mouth shut.

When Julien had sent Aria to him, he’d had no idea what to expect. In a matter of weeks, she’d upended his life, made him question his decisions.

She leaned forward, pressed her lips to his.

He couldn’t help himself. He dug his hand into her hair, dragged her closer, devoured her, as if he were a man desperate, hungry.

He inhaled her fragrance, that of promise and hope.

And he tasted her.

Their physical connection was intimate. And hoped she understood his silent communication.

As she ended the kiss, slowly drawing away, she brushed back hair from his forehead. “You know, when I first touched down here, I thought it seemed a bit remote, hostile. I couldn’t wait to leave.”

“And now?”

Slowly, she lowered her hand. “It was restorative. I enjoyed working with you. And…” She paused. “The experiences have left me changed, helped me see the world in a different way. I’ll never forget that.”

“Neither will I,” he admitted. “You know you’re welcome here anytime.”

“I may take you up on that.”

Her words though, rang hollow. They were nothing more than courteous, something people said when words were meaningless.

She opened the door and grabbed her briefcase and purse. He fetched her suitcase from the back of the SUV and dragged it toward a waiting airport employee.

Aria started up the airstairs. At the top, she paused. He expected, hoped, she’d look back, but she didn’t.

Within two minutes, the main entry door was closed and the engines powered up.

Grant stayed there a long damn time, watching until lights from the plane were no longer visible.

He drove back home, to the emptiness, the familiar companionship of loneliness.

Shadow waited, and Molly had turned the lights on, bright, as if he still had company.

An unfinished bottle of wine was in the fridge, along with a piece of chocolate cake. No matter where he looked, there were reminders of Aria and what they’d shared.

Her absence cut a hole in his heart.

Unable to decide what to do, he did what he usually did. He went to his workshop. And he stayed until the sun came up. Then he went to bed, slept restlessly a few hours, then got back up and repeated the process.

* * * *

Days later—he couldn’t say how long—Julien’s theme song made the walls bounce. He pushed a button on his keyboard to ignore the intrusion.

Apparently undeterred, Julien tried again—and again.

After Grant had rejected the call four times, Julien stopped.

Grant continued to ignore the outside world. His housekeeper brought food and did the laundry, but even after Kathleen, he hadn’t put this much distance between him and other people.

At some point, fatigue triumphed over insomnia.

He headed for bed without showering, without removing his clothes.

* * * *

“I cannot believe I failed so spectacularly.”

“You? This really isn’t about you,” Aria said, nodding her assent as Julien filled her glass with a very nice red wine. She sat across from him on the white couch in Bonds headquarters. This visit was different in tone. Last time, he’d been behind his desk. When he’d told her she was being sent to Los Alamos, she’d felt as if she were being punished, exiled at the least. “And that’s a bit of an exaggeration. You got Grant unstuck and ‘Hello, Molly’ came out of the three weeks. I’d hardly call that a failure. Besides, you got to be in a movie.”

“I did, didn’t I? It needs to go in the archives, so that when we’re done, everyone can see its evolution. This, Aria, is history in the making.” In his usual way, he then changed the topic. “I should send it to my mother. But then she’ll want a Molly.”

“We should get her one. We need more beta testers, and we need people who won’t go to the press.”

He nodded, seemingly thoughtful. “But then she’d have an excuse to call me every day.”

“Yeah.” She looked at him pointedly. “It is annoying that some people call every day.”

Either he missed the point or ignored it. She was willing to bet on the second.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m back,” she hedged. Now it was she who was intentionally missing the point. Because it still hurt too damn much to talk about, she diverted the topic. “I told David to take off Wednesday for a long weekend so he and his family can go to southern California for a few days.”

“Have transportation see if the Tornado is available.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“He deserves it. Now.” He rolled the globe of the glass between his palms. “I see you’ve perfected the art of evasion. So tell me how you’re doing.”

“I’m good.”

“You’re not.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Because I want the details.”

Aria shook her head. “You really are an asshat.”

“King of them.” He waited, then he sighed. “He hasn’t called you, has he? No text. No email.”

She inhaled to disguise her hurt. “Could you aim for something other than the jugular?”

“I tried. You dodged. So, you can either spill it so we can cauterize the wound or I can keep digging around until it really bleeds.”

“Even for you, that image is a little graphic.”

“I was reading a script earlier to see if we want to acquire it. High body count.” He shivered. “With a kick-ass female lead. If she’ll wear leather—”

“Don’t mention the boots.”

“Right. The boots. Bad. If she’ll wear a body suit, I’ll start filming tomorrow.”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that fast.”

“Anyway.” He waved his finger in a circle in the air. “You were saying.”

“I’m okay.”

“You fell in love,” he countered.

And because Julien was the only one who might understand, she admitted, “All the way.”

He gave a delicate shiver. “Did you tell him?”

“More or less.”

He regarded her until she squirmed uncomfortably.

“No. It wouldn’t have made any difference. He has expectations, thinks I couldn’t live with them. He needs to figure this out.” She’d repeated that to herself a hundred times a day even though it provided no comfort.

At work, she’d been almost useless. Then at home, she’d start something and be unable to finish it. She’d spent time with her parents, but she hadn’t been communicative. Her mother had been concerned about her health and had pressed her palm to Aria’s forehead to check her temperature. Even though she’d promised that she was okay, her mother had made a pot of soup and had sent it home with her.

She hadn’t been sleeping well, either. When she went to bed, she tossed and turned, longing for the comfort of his arms.

“If it helps any, he hasn’t talked to me either.”

She leaned forward. She’d been hoping Julien would fill her in. But she hadn’t asked because she hadn’t wanted to seem as desperate as she felt. “It’s been over a week,” she said.

“I’d worry more, but I spied on him.”

She choked on a drink of wine. “You what?”

“Oh, come on. He should be grateful. It was either that or I was jumping in the Tornado myself.”

“You made the right choice.”

“All this is very good. He didn’t even act this bad when the twit ran away.”

“Kathleen?”

“If he’d done his research, he would have known she had a penchant for drama. Award winning. I used to make popcorn before reading her social media posts.”

Once again, he’d left her speechless.

“He may be morose and feeling sorry for himself, but he isn’t doing more than working too much. Even Grant will get tired of that. If not, I’ll blast him out of there when I have my date with Blanca.”

“Oh?” An evening with Julien was just the thing to change her focus, save her from another night at home alone, aimlessly wandering her apartment, wondering what the hell she’d done wrong or what she could have done differently.

“I was planning to send Svetlana by herself, so that she can stop en route across the country. But if Grant continues to possum for much longer—”

“I think you mean a mole or a gopher.”

“I do?”

“Lives underground?”

“Right. As I was saying, I’ll go with Svetlana to collect Blanca.”

She took a drink to hide her smile. It was going to be very interesting when he found out Blanca was bringing family members and had no intention of doing the bedsheet wiggle.

“By the way, did you see that Simon is getting married?”

“What?” Because she suddenly didn’t trust her grip, she put down her glass.

“I was saving that savory morsel.”

“Turns out your former fiancé is not lovelorn. He proposed to a college sweetheart while you were away. The banns have been posted, and the joyful union will happen this spring.”

“That was fast.” While the news surprised her, it didn’t upset her. The feeling of guilt that she’d been piling on herself eased a little. He’d said he wasn’t devastated by the breakup, and obviously he’d just been trying to spare her feelings. Absently, she wondered if he’d been thinking about the other woman the whole time they’d been planning their marriage. “How the hell do you know all this stuff?”

“Every morning I get an email notification if something appears on the Internet about people I’m interested in.”