Trust in Me
Authors: Cassia Leo
TRUST IN ME
Part VI of the LUKE Series
by Cassia Leo
Copyright © 2013 by Cassia Leo
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without expressed written permission from the author; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.
All characters and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Other Books by Cassia Leo
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
Brina
My parents told me I should always help someone in need if I had the means. After nearly destroying my relationship with Luke by trying to help my parents, I realized there is a line that can be crossed when helping others—and it’s blurry as hell. But working for the Kingston Foundation has awakened that longing inside me; the desire to feel needed.
Luke stands in front of the full-length mirror adjusting his tie and I can’t believe that after four years together and three years of marriage, he still takes my breath away.
“Are you going to be home in time for the birthday dinner I’m making?” I ask as I help him with his tie.
“You don’t need to cook me dinner, honey. That’s Myrna’s job.”
He plants a soft kiss on my forehead and sets off toward the walk-in closet to get his coat. I follow behind him.
“But I want to make you dinner,” I insist. “I don’t like having everything done for me all the time like I’m incompetent. We’ve had this conversation a million times.”
“Brina, we already spend enough time apart as it is. I don’t see the problem in accepting a little help so that we can spend my birthday together.”
“Now you’re going to make it like I don’t want to spend time with you on your birthday?”
“Please, baby. Can we talk about this tomorrow? You can make me dinner today if that’s what you really want. I’ll wait.”
I heave a deep sigh because I know he’s right. I wouldn’t get home from the ribbon cutting and the schmooze-fest with the trustees of the Kingston Foundation until almost six in the evening. By the time I finish making dinner, Luke will have been waiting over two hours. Then we’ll probably have a quick dinner with Rhianne or Lucas screaming through at least half of the meal. By the time we get to bed, we’ll be too exhausted, mentally and physically, to do anything more than get in a quickie before we fall asleep. The only time we ever get time to ourselves, to really indulge in each other, is when I allow Myrna, the nanny slash housekeeper, to help me out. And I hate admitting defeat.
I should be able to do this on my own. Billions of women before me have done it. But the foundation has been taking up way more time than I anticipated. And now that we’re opening up our first counseling center, my schedule has become especially hectic.
I grab Luke’s arm before he can leave the closet. “I’ll ask Myrna to make you your favorite pad Thai noodles.”
He smiles as he steps toward me and wraps his arms around my waist. “You know what I want for my birthday?”
He slides his hands over my ass and pulls me against him.
“To unwrap that massive present in your pants?”
He leans in to kiss my neck and I sigh. “Nothing,” he whispers, his breath tickling the hairs on my nape as he lifts my dress and takes my ass in his strong hands. “I want to forget everything and everyone else exists. I don’t need food or gifts. I only need you.” His left hand slides forward then into my panties. “If you come home early tonight so will I.”
He plunges two fingers inside me and I gasp. “Oh, my…. I….”
He pulls his fingers out and thrusts his tongue inside my mouth as he massages my clit. I whimper as my body curls into him.
I want nothing more than to come home early and give myself to him, but I can’t. The ribbon cutting and the banquet with the trustees can’t be rescheduled. They’re flying in from all parts of the country for this banquet.
I clasp my hands tightly around his neck and lean my forehead against his as I try to find the strength to tell him this. I let out a high-pitch moan as my legs tremble.
“Come on, baby,” he whispers. He kisses me deeply as my muscles tense and I climax.
I let out a deeply held breath as I lean against him for support. “That’s not fair. I’ve been planning this banquet for a long time.”
His fingers graze my sensitive clit as he pulls his hand out of my panties and I gasp. He smoothes down the skirt of my dress as I attempt to regain my footing. His mouth is set in a hard line and I know he’s disappointed, but knowing Luke he’s about to say something comforting and diplomatic.
He lays a soft kiss on my earlobe and turns to leave. “Do what makes you happy, Brina. That’s all I want. I’ll see you when you get home.”
I arrive at the counseling center at nine a.m. to find a crew of painters setting up in the lobby. The chairs in the lobby have all been pushed to the center of the space and covered with plastic sheeting. More plastic sheeting is being taped to the baseboards to cover the slate tile floor.
“Good morning, Mrs. Maxwell,” says Liam, the lanky, red-haired foreman for the painting company. “Ben asked us to come in and do a few touch-ups before today’s ribbon cutting.”
“Is Ben here?” I ask as I make my way toward the hallway, which leads toward the conference room where I will be meeting with the trustees later today.
“Ben is in his office.”
“Thank you, Liam.”
I skirt around the roll of plastic on the floor and make my way to the corridor and toward Ben Hoffman’s office. Ben is the Executive Director for the Kingston Foundation. Though I’m technically his boss, Ben doesn’t really take orders from anyone and he’s a perfectionist. He came highly recommended from Luke’s mentor, Jerry Wilshire. Ben does his job very well, maybe too well, but he seems to fall to pieces around me and I can’t quite figure out why.
I enter the office and Ben is holding his cell phone to his ear and holding up a finger as if to say, “Give me one sec.” I take a seat in the sleek chair in front of his desk and cross my legs as I wait for him to finish his conversation. He leans forward over his desk as he grips his dark hair. I’m not sure if he’s stressed or he’s trying to hide his face.
“Yeah, tell her she need to call the mechanical contractor about the warranty. The controls should be covered and we can’t have anyone upstairs until they’re working. This shouldn’t even be a fucking issue. I want them here by noon.” He hangs up and looks up at me with an apologetic expression. “Sorry. I went upstairs this morning and the controls for the one of the a/c units aren’t working. I’ve had to call four different people to get a hold of the super. What’s up?”
His fingers are tapping the top of the desk as he leans forward. He’s nervous. Ben lost his wife last year in a car accident and has been raising his three sons alone since then. We pay him enough to hire a nanny, but he insists he doesn’t need one. I admire him, but I don’t envy him.
“Do you think it would look terrible if I skipped out on the banquet a little early, you know, after I’ve already met with all the trustees?”
“Why? What do you got going on?”
“It’s Luke’s birthday and I think we need a reason to celebrate that’s not related to the center. It’s been taking up a lot of my time.”
His fingers stop moving and his eyes widen as he sits back in his chair. “Right. How old is he now?”
I pause for a moment, unsure why he cares how old Luke is. “He’s thirty-two today. So do you think that would be okay?”
“Well, you are the base of this foundation, Brina. I do think it would look bad, but your marriage is important. If you feel you need to leave early then that’s what you should do.” He stares at the desk phone for a moment before he continues. “There’s someone here to see you. He’s waiting in the boardroom.”
“Who is it?”
He casts a weary look in my direction. “I had the security guards check him for weapons and he’s clear. Just some homeless kid. Says he served with your brother.”
My heart stops at the mention of my brother. Everyone here knows how my brother committed suicide while suffering from severe post-traumatic stress disorder, right before he was scheduled to leave for his second tour of duty. Everyone knows I was there with Ryan when he jumped off the hospital roof. It’s the reason we started the foundation and built this counseling center. But it still feels like a punch in the gut every time someone mentioned him.
Ben must see the pain rising to the surface in my facial expression. “You don’t have to talk to him, but I felt kind of sorry for the guy. I figured the least I could do is ask. I’ll tell him to leave.”
He gets up and rounds the desk to leave his office, but I grab his hand as he passes me. “Wait.” He looks down at my hand and I quickly release my grip on him. “I’ll talk to him, just give me a minute to pull myself together.”
The muscle in Ben’s jaw clenches as he gives me a curt nod and heads out of the office. I lean forward in the chair and hide my face in my hands as I take a few deep breaths. The last time I met someone who served with my brother it did not go well.
I met Julio Perez at a community service awards ceremony for veterans. We had a ten-minute conversation where I discovered he was going through some terrible things—nightmares, insomnia, debilitating depression—but he insisted he didn’t need help. His expression was dead, occasionally reverting to a sort of manic smile that was more sad than frightening. I ended up leaving the ceremony early because I was so upset by my conversation with him. I couldn’t stop imagining that what happened to my brother would happen to Julio if he didn’t seek help.
I stand from the chair and make my way out of the office, pressing my lips together as those emotions that are always ebbing just below the surface begin to swell inside me. The walk down the corridor to the boardroom is frightening, only made worse by the fact that I’m nearing the area of the building where the air conditioning isn’t working. It’s hot.
I reach the boardroom and immediately see him through the glass wall. He scarily thin and not as dirty as I imagined he would be. He’s leaning forward on the conference table, his fingers toying with the bill on his black baseball cap. I swallow my nerves and pull the glass door open.
He looks up and my heart jumps a little at the troubled look in his eyes. He sees the fright in my eyes and he looks down at the surface of the smooth surface of the maple conference table. I instantly feel horrible. He probably gets those kinds of looks all day and didn’t expect to get one in a counseling center for veterans.
“I’m Brina,” I say as I approach him, holding my shoulders back to let him know I’m not afraid of him.