I Love My Chance (Nicole's Erotic Romance 3)

 
I Love My…

Chance

(Nicole’s Story - Part 3)

By Sabrina Lacey

Cover Image of “Mark” ©
Bikeriderlondon

 
Cover Image of New York © Songquan Deng

Licensed through Shutterstock.com

© Sabrina Lacey

Lacey Publications

All Right Reserved

This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual
events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be
reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise,
without the express written permission of the publisher.

Prologue

There are moments in our lives when, as we look back on
them, we wish we could climb into a time machine, go back and do things
differently. Moments we replay over and over, thinking... why did I do that?
Why didn’t I do this, instead? Did I make a mistake? Because it feels like I
did. Or was this the right choice and I should just shove down these feelings
of loss until they go away? What can I do, now that it’s done? Could I do
anything to change it, if I tried? Do I have the courage to jump into the
unknown – to try to fix it - without any guarantee that it will all turn
out okay? Will there be a price worth paying? Will I lose someone I love? Will
I forgive myself for that? Will I forgive them?

And knowing myself as well as I do, living in this head of
mine for as long as I have… I know that whichever road I take, I will wonder.
It’s the wondering that kills me. If someone – and by someone, I mean God
– could grab me by the shoulders, point me in a direction and say, this
is the way to happiness… I would be so grateful. Why can’t it be like that? Why
must I hit my head on the proverbial wall - until it breaks down… or until I
do?

This path that I’m on now… little do I know it – but
there are moments in it – precious moments – that I will replay
soon. Over… and over… and over.

Forty-Five Minutes After We Left My Place

I shoot a sideways
glance up to Mark’s handsome face. His thumb tenderly caresses the soft
underside of my hand as we stroll down the path. His profile has a regal
quality to it, his nose strong and noble. The self-assured way he holds his
head says he knows who he is. I really admire that about him.

“Are you going to
tell me, or am I going to have to beg?” His eyes flicker, but he doesn’t answer
me. Instead, he purposefully watches the people around us with more interest.
Nice try, buddy
. “You’re not getting off
that easily,” I sing.

He still offers me
no reaction, pretending not to have heard. Sweeping his free hand across the
view, the sunlight catches those tiny gold flecks in his warm brown eyes,
taking my breath away, he says, “Look at all this. It’s amazing.” Smiling, I
look to see what he wants me to see, Central Park through
his
eyes. This truly beautiful park is surrounded by skyscrapers
on all sides; two and a half miles of trees, flowers, ponds and bridges, with
multiple winding cemented paths cutting through. There are two skating rinks, a
zoo and a conservatory, though I’ve never been to the zoo. I love coming here.
It’s disarming how peaceful it is considering the fact it’s centered smack dab
in the center of the craziness that is New York City. Central Park is the
perfect symbiotic juxtaposition of nature-meets-urban; mother nature and man
dancing together.

Mark’s gaze falls
on the area by the fountain and I look to see people of all races and ages
relaxing there, many gesticulating through conversations we’re too far away to
hear, their listeners attentive. Mark smiles, watching the joggers – of
which there are seemingly millions. All of them are geared up with technology’s
latest; staring ahead, breathing hard, feet pounding in a modern beat as they
move toward their goals. And since it’s Saturday, there are even more families
out than usual, pushing expensive strollers with their children staring out
from fastened-in seats, wide-eyed and overwhelmed. Winter is on her way. The
locals are out by the truckloads. We embrace the warmth with everything we have
for as long as we can, knowing soon it will be necessary to spend most of our
time in doors.

Locals
… I’m one. But
Mark is not.
Don’t think about him going
back home, Nicole. Don’t think about it.

Mark points to a
lone retro-painter tucked away with his easel and imagination in a corner of
lawn to our left. “I love that guy right there.”

I nod and, as
though the painter could hear me from seventy-five feet away, I whisper, “Look,
he even has on a beret like he’s on that hill where the painters used to go in
Paris. Or do they still go there? I’m not sure.”

Mark looks down to
me, curious and relaxed. “Have you been to Montmartre?”

I shake my head,
looking at the artist as I talk. “Not yet. I haven’t been to Europe as an
adult. I went to Milan and London when my mother was doing the runways, but I
was five or six so I don’t remember any of it.” I shoot him a quick smile. “I
want to go. Have you been?”

He brings our
hands up to his mouth and kisses my fingers. “Not yet. Let’s make that happen.”
He looks up and points to the American Elms lining the path. “Look at the
leaves! We have some changing like this in San Francisco, but nothing like this.
These are incredible.”

Their reds, gold
and yellows, blended perfectly by Mother Nature, take my breath away every
time. If I give myself more than a second to look at them, I can lose myself in
their beauty. It opens my heart the same way a sunset does, or a baby’s smile.
“They’re beautiful… and they’re all the colors of fire, see?”

 
“Spoken like an artist.” He winks at me
and once again brings our hands up to kiss my fingertips.

“Mmm… I love it
when you do that.”

He throws a sexy
smile my way. “Yeah? I’ll remember that.”

I look at his
mouth, longing to kiss it forever. I shake my head at my luck and give him a
firm playful poke in the ribs. “But you didn’t answer me.”

He yelps and
laughs. “What do you want to know?”

I roll my eyes.
“Come on!”

Playing innocent,
his eyes go cartoon-like and wide. “What?”

“How did it go
with the investors? I’m dying to know and you haven’t said a word about it!”

His smile falls.
His grip loosens on my hand as he frowns. My stomach sinks down with my
spirits. It never occurred to me that the meeting wouldn’t go well. Oh God… and
here I am, prying! He would have told me if it was good news. He would have
shouted it to the whole park! That’s what happens when your dreams get
answered, isn’t it?

I reach over to
hold his hand with both of mine, our feet keeping time as the leaves fall
around us. “Hey. You know what? There will be more people to talk to. Apps are
a huge deal right now. Everyone wants in. You’ll get financial backing sooner
than…”

His free hand
flies up to save himself from my pep-talk. “Nicole.”

“I’m sorry. I
should just be quiet about it. It’s none of my business…”

“Nicole.” He stops
walking and faces me, serious. “Guess what?”

My lips make a
thin line and I bite them, feeling horrible. “Mmm?”

They liked my idea.”
He gives me a mischievous smile.
 

“They did?” My jaw
drops to China.

“Actually…” His
smile expands into the proudest grin. “They loved it.”

“WHAT?!” I jump up
and down, losing myself in my excitement.
“Wooohooooo!
They loved it!
Yeah,
they did! Yeah,
baby!” He laughs with all of his body, watching me. I stop and stare at him,
stone-faced. “Hey. Not fair. You really had me going there.”

“You should have
seen your face.” He grabs me, picks me up and spins me around a few times with
me laughing, begging to be put down – and not meaning a breath of it.
Soon I’m dizzy for so many reasons. When he lowers me to the ground, we fall
into a kiss. I’m as happy for him as I’d be for one of my closest friends. I
love hearing about other people’s success. It just means it’s possible.

We clasp hands and
continue strolling, the day brightened more by the good news. “I walked in and
there were four of them sitting around a huge conference table looking at me,
detached and cold. They were polite, but that’s about it. I was a nervous
wreck, but I didn’t let on. And then? When I told them my idea for the game?
Their faces changed. You should have seen them! They started throwing ideas
around for how to market it. Nicole, I couldn’t believe it. They thought it was
great. And not one of them had heard of anything like it.” He gives my hand a
strong squeeze, surprised, realizing. “Oh! I forgot! I haven’t told you about
the app!”

I grin at him.
“No, you haven’t. What is it?”

“Well, it’s a game
to help teenagers and college kids learn about money. Investing, credit cards,
buying homes, the stock market, all of the big stuff. That’s why I wanted
something different for the interface, something emotional and different.
Something cool that will appeal to them.”

My body reacts to
the compliment, tingling with the sweet feeling of being appreciated. “So your
game teaches personal finance?”

He’s very excited
as he continues, “Exactly. There are no personal finance classes in high
schools today – not that I’m aware of, and definitely not nationwide.
Kids have no idea what to do when they get thrown into the adult world. People
say parents are supposed to teach them, but most parents know nothing about
finance. I mean, look at our economy! We didn’t get here because people knew
what they were doing! The average citizen is
afraid to even discuss money
. It’s a direct result of a lack of
understanding. Fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the power money has over us.
Fear of thinking we can’t do anything about it. Well, we can take back the power.”

“And your game
will teach them?”

He nods, but waves
his free hand back and forth. “Not how to fix our whole economy now, no. But it
will teach kids what to do with their money and they’ll grow up making better
decisions and in time, things could drastically change. And with the game,
They’ll be able to play their friends, or anyone in the world. The way it’s
designed now, the classroom is still teaching things we have no need for. But
kids are hugely into technology so I thought,
they’re eating up these apps!
What if I used technology –
through an app, to empower them… to teach them
how
to become successful?” He looks to me to see if I understand.

I stop walking and
stare at him, flabbergasted. “Mark – seriously – that’s an amazing
idea.”

He grins, his
smile strikingly handsome. “You think so?” He comes in closer. The smile shifts
to an intimate one… meant for only me. I nod the answer
yes.
He bends down, his lips close to mine, holding there for a
suspenseful moment that quickens my pulse. I can feel the heat of his breath
against my lips. He kisses me and everything around us disappears – the
sounds, the smells, the people – all gone. Sharing this sweet, slow kiss
in Central Park on a pretty fall day, without regard to anyone who might be
watching, is so beautiful. I willingly give myself over to it, stretching up on
my toes, my arms lightly wrapped around his strong neck, my fingers weaved into
his hair, my mouth blending with his, our bodies warming against each other.

Breaking in as
though from another world, a male voice interrupts. “Nicole?”

Mark and I
separate, surprised. Standing five feet from us, holding the leash of a dog I
didn’t know he had, is Grant. The unexpected sight of him throws me, so at
first I don’t remember who he is.

“Grant! Hi. Is
this your dog?” My chipper tone does nothing to cover me.

Oh no. My slip in
recognition is a bad combo with his over-developed ego. He saw it. Plus, seeing
me
kissing this beautiful man in
public, when I wouldn’t kiss
him
in
the kitchen at a small party, rubs him a million wrong ways. Off comes that
fucked-up mask of his.

His mouth says,
“So, how’ve you been?” but his eyes say
,
slut.

Mark sees his face
and my reaction and instinctively puts himself between me and Grant. I shoot a
surprised glance at Mark’s back. He seems to have grown, the way he holds
himself now, testosterone elongating his 6’4” posture to impossible heights as
he warns Grant, “I don’t like the look on your face.”