All Good Things (8 page)

I threw the Bugatti into park and stepped onto the concrete. The lights were bright and I couldn't wait to get up to the top floor where my office resided. My office was my sanctuary. If I wanted, I could live there, and for the most part, I was so busy, that I did.

I swiped my key card at the elevator and waited as the private elevator, reserved for staff on the top floor began its descent. The doors chimed as they opened and I stepped into the pale green and stainless steel box. I wouldn't have chosen green for the elevator myself, but I hadn't been the one to build Rush Industries. I had taken over the company when my father died. I'd always expected the responsibility would fall onto my shoulders someday and I had prepared myself to the best of my ability. My father had always made it clear. I had been born with a title that held expectations. When a guy had that drilled into him, everyday from birth, he started to believe it.

When the elevator slowed to a stop, the doors slid open and I stepped out. There was no one at the front desk to greet me, so I took a moment to appreciate what was mine. I'd remodeled the top floor a year after my father passed. I couldn't handle feeling his stuffy personality everyday.

A large, round white, lily-gloss desk sat in the center of the room, facing the elevators. The floor was made of black granite that, in the light, appeared to hold flecks of silver-gold. On the curved, raised surface of the desk, white vases were filled with real white lilies and long green stems. The desktop computers were a sleek, shiny silver and the chairs were white leather. The walls had been painted barley beige. I didn't understand why the color had that name, because it was not beige at all. It possessed a slight glow and appeared to be a cross between gray and white. It was an elegant, clean reception area that would make anyone feel sophisticated and welcomed. On my way to my office, I passed a waiting area furnished with white leather furniture, a white glass coffee table with vibrant green accents.

With a sigh of relief, I stepped into the peace of my office. I closed the smoked glass doors and walked across the black marble floor, past the black leather couch set to the large desk. It sat possessively before an entire wall of windows. My office reflected the way I saw myself entirely. Whereas Caleb liked everything white and pristine, I preferred my space dark. I often envied Caleb his ability to shrug anything, and everything, off without a second thought. If I had that ability, I wouldn't be trying to ignore the image of Olivia that danced in the back of my mind, demanding precedence over any other thought.

I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my black slacks and leaned against the desk to look out at the New York night. I was fully aware Olivia was livid with me for leaving her the way I did, but I couldn't take her as planned. I hadn't thought her to be as innocent as she was, but after kissing her, it had become obvious she was inexperienced. I doubted she was a virgin or anything. Someone as beautiful as her would not have made it through college without the vultures pouncing, but she was innocent enough to have never been used. Or, I hoped she had never been used, and if she had, well, I would kill him.

I groaned aloud at the track my thoughts had taken and tried desperately to ignore the bulge that demanded release in my pants as I remembered kissing her. Fuck, she was sweet. I had a taste and I didn't think I could go on without taking another...and another...and another. I was ruined.

What the hell was I supposed to do? I turned her on and kissed her until she was aching with need, so potent, I could see it in her brown eyes before I left her. She would never forgive me. I had a tickling suspicion Olivia was not the kind of girl I could send my personal shopper to her door at eight am and make it all better. I doubted she was the kind of girl I could just buy forgiveness from...but she had liked my car.

I shook my head. No, I couldn't buy her a Bugatti. I would, if I thought it would please her, but I knew she would probably send it back to me after setting it on fire. I couldn't bring myself to subject such beauty to her anger.

Finally, after extensive pacing, where I was sure I would have to get my floor polished and two classes of cognac, I came to the conclusion, money just wouldn't do. I had to break it down. Not because Olivia was simple, but because she was complex. Where as most women would want material things, I believed she wanted personal apologies. I fucking sucked at that shit. I was aware I would be staring at this piece of paper for the rest of the night. I had no clue what to write, but I hoped to make it good.

The sun was tainting the sky when I finally folded the letter and placed it in an envelope. I needed a few hours of sleep before my meeting at eleven. I wandered into the bedroom adjoined to my office and closed the door behind me. The windows were covered floor to ceiling, blacking out the light that tried relentlessly to slip through the cracks. I walked over the lush black shag rug and stripped from my clothing before dropping onto the bed. I would call Laura to arrange to have the letter sent as soon as she came into the office. I had a couple hours before she arrived and I fell into sleep with images of Olivia plaguing my mind and following me into my dreams.

***

I moaned aloud and pulled my pillow over my head. How dare that son-of-a-gun do this to me? I had only been able to sleep for a few hours because of his games. My body was exhausted but my mind was wide-awake. I tried relentlessly to sleep through my thoughts, but when four-thirty rolled around, I decided there was no use in trying when I'd proven to myself over the course of the last few hours, I would only fail.

I threw the blanket off my bared legs and padded barefoot from the bedroom. I wore my pajama shorts and a tank top, but decided I may as well throw on a housecoat since I was always cold. I usually tried to avoid the inevitable and packing extra clothing was my thing.

I walked into the kitchen and glared at the coffee pot. I wished I could remember to set the damned timer so I had fresh coffee waiting for me when I woke up, but that would require I had a set time to rise, and recent events proved, I obviously didn't.

I groaned as I moved across the kitchen to pour the ground grains of deliciousness into the filter before adding the water and pressing start. Now, I had to wait. Since twiddling my thumbs just wouldn't do, I decided to vacuum Moo-moos hair off the floor he was currently running across to greet me with his kitten-cute meow. Because the darned fur ball was simply irresistible, I put off vacuuming and picked him up into my arms before reaching into the fridge and grabbing his open can of cat food. After giving him sufficient love, I plopped a spoonful of his favorite wet food into a bowl and set it on the floor for him to indulge in. I stared appreciatively at his little belly and smiled. Moo-moo was black with a white belly. He looked more like an Oreo, but I couldn't resist calling him Moo-moo. It just suited him. He was a little piggy, but that was to be expected since he'd been all bones when I'd found him.

I quickly pulled the vacuum from the pantry and started the machine. I knew Trisha was probably going to bite my head off, but oh well. When I ran the vacuum over the last inch of floor, I turned it off and jumped to see Trisha with her blond, bed-head scowling at me.

"You are so damned lucky you made coffee." Trisha grumbled as she moved around the island on the hunt for a mug.

"That's my coffee." I protested as I wrapped the cord around the vacuum.

She glared at me with hard eyes. "Don't test me. It's not even five a.m. and you woke me up with," she waved her hand at the vacuum, "whatever you were doing."

"It's called cleaning." I sighed. "Trisha, meet the vacuum, he lives in our pantry."

Trisha grunted. I watched her pour the deep brown liquid into her mug and I laughed. I put the vacuum away and poured myself a cup of coffee. One milk and one sugar. It was the only way to wake up. The bittersweet magic of caffeine was an essential need of mine.

Trisha sighed after a gulp. Her eyes softened and she looked up at me. "Spill it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I avoided eye contact as I sipped my coffee, warming my chilled bones.

"You know what I'm talking about." She stated. "What's got you up at this ungodly hour?"

I shrugged. "I decided to enjoy the sunrise."

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you came home late last night?" Trisha asked bluntly.

"No." I said, too quickly, and her eyes widened.

"Did you go out with Trey?" Her smile was so wide I feared it would split her face. "Tell me everything."

I shook my head. I really didn't want to tell her about Jace. She made her opinion of him more than clear. "I didn't go out with Trey."

She frowned. "Oh, he told me he was going to ask you out."

My mouth dropped and I set my cup on the counter just a little too hard. "You didn't think you should tell me?" I demanded. "I gave him the stupidest excuse. If you had told me, I could have prepared myself."

Trisha shrugged. "I promised Trey I wouldn't tell you."

"Uh, your allegiance should be to me...remember," I pointed to my chest. "Your best friend."

Trisha rolled her eyes. "Believe me honey, my allegiance is entirely yours. It's in your best interest to date and I happen to know Trey would treat you right."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I shrieked.

"You need to take a chance and you need someone patient and kind. Trey is both of those things. The fact that he is smoking hot is only an added bonus that should already have you jumping his bones!"

I shook my head incredulously at her, as she stared wickedly at me from the opposite side of the island. If I could reach her, I might have pulled her hair. "Whose bones I decide to jump is so not your business."

"That's where you're wrong, honey." She said as she brought her mug to her lips.

I was about to go on a rant about the fact that, it was in fact, none of her business, but our condo buzzer rang, interrupting my blazing train of thought. I pointed my finger at her. "This is not over."

"Of course it isn't." She smiled sweetly. I shook my head as I padded to the intercom.

"Hello?"

"Miss. LeRoux?" A male voice replied in question.

"Yes."

"There is a delivery here for you."

I frowned. What could possibly be delivered for me? "Send it up please."

I waited anxiously by the door as Trisha cocked her head at me. She wore a confused frown on her lips as she waited to see what had been delivered. When there was a knock on the door, I opened it, and a man, who looked to be in his early forties stood in the hall holding a single flower and an envelope. My heart jumped into my throat.

"Hello, I'm Olivia LeRoux."

The man smiled. He assessed me before handing me a single purple flower. It was gorgeous. I had never seen a flower like this before and it had, possibly, become my very favorite.

I eyed the man. "Do you know what kind of flower this is?"

He nodded politely. "It's called a purple hyacinth. It's a unique flower commonly regarded as a symbol of regret."

My blood chilled as I stared at the beautiful flower. Why on earth would this flower be sent to me?

I nodded at the gentleman. "Thank you." I said as I closed the door and leaned my back against the wood. I stared at the envelope. My name was written in handwriting I did not recognize. It looked more like ancient script. It was beautiful.

I wouldn't have opened the envelope if I hadn't been plagued by curiosity. The moment I unfolded the letter, my heart stopped in my chest and I stared breathlessly at the words.

Dear Olivia,

Please forgive me. I am weak.

-Jace Rush-

"What is it?" Trisha asked as she stared at me through narrowed eyes. "Let me see."

I shook my head, quickly folding the letter. "It's nothing." I forced a smile, hoping to ease her suspicion.

She held out her hand, palm up. "Let me see it."

"Trisha," I sighed. I never was a good liar. "It's from Jace."

She twitched as though I'd slapped her. "Why would he send you a flower and a letter? Jeez, the man has more money than the devil and he sends you single flower. Where the hell is the rest of the bouquet?"

I couldn't help but realize that where as I compared Jace to God, Trisha compared him to the devil. Did she really believe him to be so horrible? I shook the thought from my mind and looked down at the flower. "I think it is for effect."

Her brows rose. "If he was going for effect, he should have sent fifty bouquets."

I shook my head. There was nothing to say to her. If she didn't get it already, then I doubted she ever would. I started to walk to the kitchen for a vase when she pulled the letter from my hands. I thought about fighting for it, but she wouldn't relent until she knew what had been written, so I continued to walk away.

"What the hell does he want your forgiveness for?" She snapped her inquiry and I shrugged.

"I have no idea, Trisha." I said. "Why don't you call him and ask?"

"I'm not calling him and you shouldn't either." She paused as I eyed her warningly. "I just mean he doesn't seem like the kind of guy you should be with. He is controlling and arrogant and I'm close to one hundred percent positive, he's dangerous."

I turned my back to her as I reached into the cupboard for a small vase. I filled it with water, added a spoonful of sugar into the liquid before dropping the flower into the vase. "I was not planning on calling him." I stated. "But, I will admit, I think he's interesting."

Trisha looked frustrated. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I can take care of myself, Trisha." I said, as I walked to the hall. I wanted this flower on my nightstand. Moo-moo followed me into my bedroom meowing as I closed the door behind us. He jumped up on my bed, and stretched, before curling up into a tight little ball. I set the vase and letter on my nightstand before I wandered into the bathroom to get ready to start what I felt was, certainly, going to be a long day.

***

I stepped into the summer sun wearing a loose-fitted purple satin sleeveless shirt tucked into a black pencil skirt. I carried my laptop in a bag over my shoulder and started walking in the direction of my shop. My heels clicked on the sidewalk as I cursed New York fashion...and, it was not the first time.