Mind F*ck (5 page)

“We didn’t get nearly enough unpacked yesterday. So, not so wonderful. And to answer your question, she actually worked for the constructions clean-up crew. The morning I came by when the alarm system was being installed, she was here cleaning in the foyer, listening to some song I’d heard you singing in the shower. I think I’d just met with the fourth housekeeper applicant and was headed out on a flight back to Cali two hours later. I asked her what she was making cleaning houses for Smith’s Hand Construction, doubled it, and offered her a job. She took it.” The fingertips massaging my scalp begin loosely braiding my hair before draping it over my right shoulder and kissing my neck. “I’m glad you like her, baby girl.” Liam’s husky steady voice whispers, sending chills across my skin.

“She’s pregnant,” I whisper.

“I know,” he mutters what I already knew. “I know, baby girl.”

I’m so irritated with Lexy lately. The mere sight of her is beginning to irk the living hell out of me. And I can’t explain it. I can’t explain where this new animosity derives from, I just know it’s there and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it.

I stay gone as much as possible, if I’m not at work, it’s usually work affiliated, well all but that last ten percent of my time.

But every man has his vice or vices. Name your poison, because you’ve got one too, son.

A knock at my office door pulls me away from my irritated thoughts, causing me to bark at the person on the other side, “What!?”

Her sweet, sexy chuckle immediately makes my cock harden.

Summer.

Images of her bent over flat surfaces in her apartment, her pale blonde tresses hanging down, and her curvy tan ass in the air, all of these images mix before ultimately settling and hindering the irritation I held towards my wife.

And yet, at the same time, they also put a swagger in my step.

I rise from behind my desk, buttoning up my suit jacket at the waist and adjusting my diamond solitaire cuff links, before sauntering towards the huge ominous office doors and turning the brass door knob.

After staring at her for a full thirty seconds, I smirk, acknowledging her and motion for her to speak.

“Hi.” Her smile alone is worth it.

“Summer,” I simply say.

“L-Liam,” she whispers.

“Are you lost?” I ask, pinning her eyes with mine. “Or are you insane? Which is it?” I whisper as my hand clamps down on her upper arm and jerks her into my office, before slamming the door and shoving her back against it. I crowd into her personal space.

The sudden look of fear in her eyes makes my cock so hard it fucking aches, weeping with pre-cum. “You looking for a monster to play with, little girl? Hmm?”

When she playfully shoves me back, I snicker. “No. Actually, I’m looking for—“ The door opening behind her cuts off her words, and Travis peeks his head around the door, glimpsing first at Summer, then back at me before smirking.

When I speak, it’s through gritted teeth and directed at Travis, “I said I needed fifteen more minutes less than five minutes ago, Travis. What’s up?”

It takes his words a few cycles before I catch up, “Just checking on my sister.” He looks towards Summer. “Summer? You lost?”

Travis’ chuckle spurs my own as uneasiness tries to settle around me. As Summer swoops under the arm I was using to pin her to the wall behind the door, her steps move her away from both of us and Travis comes into my office, seemingly unaware of my current
rock
and
hard
place.

All the while it is taking this interim of time for my mind to register that the two are siblings, along with the knowledge that I’ve fucked Travis’ sister.

I square my shoulders and face Travis. “Sister?” I ask him, quirking my eyebrows.

“Yeah, I wasn’t aware you knew her. The two of you must of met a few days ago at McClearn’s?”

Summer and I both nod, and thankfully Travis doesn’t push. I glance down at my watch and note the time. Irritation back in full swing. “Well, if the two of you don’t mind. I have a phone call to make, then lunch plans. Travis, we’re still on at noon, correct?”

I barely catch his nod when I glance back up. “Correct,” he says before looking back at Summer. “And you? What’s your business with Mr. Dean?” He smirks as my earlier mild irritation flares to something bigger. Something darker.

But Summer’s laugh, which reminds me of a fucking tinkling bell, ricochets from the dark green and paneled wood walls of my office, cloaking my recurrent irritation once again. Soothing it, almost.

“So protective of you, big brother.” Again, the tinkling, infectious laugh of hers emits from her perfect, swollen, red lips. And then she continues, perfectly rendering any suspicion or hints of rumor Travis may have had, “Had you been paying attention last night while
I
spoke over dinner with our father, instead of just hearing what
you
either had said, or were about to say, you would have heard me explaining the new marketing pitch I’m planning for Jackson’s . You would have also heard our father say I had to run it by Mr. Dean first, using his response to my pitch as a gauging tool. Specifically for our western clientele.” Once she finishes speaking, her small feet turn in their shiny, spikey, six-inch nude heels and her navy glacial eyes settle, glaring at Travis. “But seeing how self-absorbed you are ninety-nine percent of the time, I can understand how you’d miss that detail.”

I can’t be certain if it’s her bravado, or the fact that my ass is so clearly in the clear, but all traces and remnants of my earlier uneasiness and irritation are erased.

My muscles tighten around my spine at the same time I come to stand at my full height. I square my shoulders as I slide my hands into my pockets.

Reminding myself of a few things, mentally.

This is my office. My domain. My kingdom. Even if it is only this office room.

I clear my throat and speak.

“Politeness and introductions aside—” I smile, slightly bowing towards Summer before making my way to the door. When I’m standing close enough to Travis, I outstretch my hand. As we shake, I maintain eye contact with him, feeling my courage build as my demeanor solidifies. “—I do have one brief phone call to make before heading out to lunch.” I motion towards my office door. “So, if you two will excuse me.”

As I scoop up my cell phone from the dark wood surface of my office desk, and slide it into my suit pocket, Travis ushers his beloved sister from my office. But before following her, he says over his shoulder, “See you in a few, brother,” then closes the door behind him.

I sigh, rubbing my face with my hand and glance down at my desk.

Feeling my earlier irritation begin to flare back to life, I frown when my eyes land on a small piece of yellow legal paper. It’s just the bottom right hand corner, torn. With what has to be the sexiest penmanship scrawled across it. I smile and feel my agitation finally rest as I read—

Fuck dolls are fun, but this is business. Of anyone, I’m sure you won’t misconstrue the two. You and I’ve a meeting a three. A business one. I’m on the 44
th
floor. XoXo-S.

I read the words. Her words. Over and over.

And as I did, I held each emotion they triggered and acknowledged them. Fully. Delicately. Before folding and putting it away.

I am currently and unusually, two things—because of Summer. Two things that I haven’t been in a very, very long time.

I am Stunned.

And I’m smitten.

So much so, that I’m smiling when I stroll from my office. I’m smiling as I walk onto the elevator, pulling my phone from my pocket and thumbing through my contacts. Ear to ear, and damn if I care the world sees it.

I’m smiling.

I find my wife’s number and hit dial, smiling even bigger as my thoughts settle on what word to use to term this emotion Summer evokes from me.

Excitement.

I’m damn near giddy as Lexy’s voice answer’s on the other end. The excitement seemingly catches fire and blazes with recognition. And then, once I’ve informed my wife today marks the one week mark since she last took a pregnancy test, and then I remind her where the test is she’s supposed to take today, I don’t feel the same irritated responsibility of constantly sounding and acting concerned, for fear of hurting her feelings.

I simply don’t.

You can’t give a fuck if you don’t have one to spare.

And currently, Miss Summer
Jackson
, is the main recipient of all of my fucks.

The lunch meeting couldn’t end fast enough—it resembled what one with perfect dental genetics could only imagine a root canal would be, I’m certain.

And the drive home afterward, was even more unimaginable.

As weightless as it does feel to finally decide I won’t be bothered by my wife or her feelings any longer, there is also a certain amount of common humanity expected from me…as she is my wife.

And today, I know, won’t be easy on her. She’s her most fragile on these days. She doesn’t take well to failure. A constant strong and yet the seemingly only positive attribute she holds these days.

After I ease the black CTS-V to a stop in the circular drive, I slide from the car and make my way towards the front door. I take the stairs two at a time and glance at my watch to note the time.

One hour until my meeting with Summer. 

I walk into the grand foyer and make my way towards the sitting room. When I don’t immediately see Lexy, agitation sparks just beneath the surface. “Baby girl? I’m home for lunch.”

I slide my suit jacket off before folding it over the chaise lounge. But my motions freeze as Lexy floats into the room carrying a serving tray and smiling. Smiling beautifully.

She’s fucking radiating.

“I just made chicken salad sandwiches and few other hors d-oeuvres. I know it’s late for lunch,” her small voice tells me.

Hate is funny. It’s a funny, sneaky, little emotion that can be derived from almost anything…even love.

Because I do love my wife. I do.

It’s just…I fucking hate her, too.

And as I witness her setting the delicate China plates out and pouring hot tea like a trained Geisha, it causes conflicting emotions to emerge inside me.

These emotions aren’t timid or subtle. Nor are they slight or shy. They’re bold and almost blinding they’re so fucking intense.

Hate.

Love.

Her green irises blinking lovingly up into mine cause my teeth to grit.

I try to will my hardening cock to cease it’s filling as images filter into my mind. Images of a pale, strawberry blonde woman transforming into a tanned pale blonde woman with curves in place of my wife’s lean muscle and sharp bone.

Summer
.

“I’m not hungry,” I spit the words out at her.

As my agitation grows and swells, I’m uncertain if it’s because of her or me. I do know that none of this is going the way I thought it would.

I expected to come home to a sad, depressed wife. I expected to spout some same riddled shit that indirectly points out the fact that the reason we haven’t been able to conceive yet is because of her, then coddle her, pat her head, and then carry on my own merry fucking way, heading back to Jackson’s. And when I got done parking, I’d ride the elevator, walk into Summer’s office, fuck the princess of Jackson’s Agency on some board meeting table on the 44
th
floor, finish out the work day, then meet with Travis at McClearn’s. After that, I’d have a few cocktails, hit a few party favors, and call it a day.

Instead, I’m standing here in the main room of my home, squabbling to understand
why the fucking hell
my wife is so goddamn happy when it hits.

“You’re pregnant.” My words cut across, acting exactly as intended as accusations.

Her happiness falters, but she quickly covers it up with her own brand of excitement and that damned smile. “Liam, we’re pregnant.” She beams.

I wait. After her words reluctantly fall hollow between us, I do wait, hoping for something. Hoping for something that feels a lot like hope.