Sam placed his hand on Simon's door. Before he could exit, Simon called after him in a husky voice. "Sam?"
Sam turned back with a quizzical expression. "Yeah?"
"Thanks for listening."
The look that passed between them spoke volumes. Simon wanted to tell his brother how much he cared, but a lump formed in his throat. They sparred like brothers often did, but Sam had sacrificed a lot for Simon and his mother. Worked his ass into the ground for all these years.
"Nobody deserves happiness more than you, little brother. It's within your grasp. Take it." Sam answered, his voice full of brotherly support, as he exited without another word.
Blowing out a shaky breath, Simon stood and grabbed his briefcase, looking around the plush, executive office. Other than his desk and chair, everything was decorated in art deco, a design that he really didn't like. How in the hell had that happened?
The office had been done years ago, but he'd never really noticed, never really cared.
Maybe because you told the decorator to do whatever she wanted.
Yeah, that's exactly what he had done years ago. He couldn't have cared less what decor the interior designer chose. He came to work, took care of business, and retreated back to his condo so he could immediately bury himself in his lab at home. Maybe he grunted a greeting to his secretary and personal assistant when he arrived and departed from the high rise building every weekday morning. Or maybe not. He was usually so hyper-focused on work, so enclosed in that bubble, that he didn't even remember.
He jerked at the knot in his expensive burgundy tie to loosen it and undid the top button of his shirt. Christ, how he hated wearing a suit.
Careful with the tie. It's one of Kara's favorites.
Actually, that might not be true. He wasn't exactly certain that she had a favorite. She told him every morning how handsome he looked when he arrived in the kitchen dressed for work in a business suit and tie. But the very first time she had told him that, he had been wearing this tie. Since that day, he found himself reaching for this particular tie pretty damn often on his work days.
He snorted softly as he walked toward the door of his office, his stride nearly silent on the plush carpet. Christ, he was going off the deep end.
When had he started caring which tie he wore, how his office was decorated, whether or not he was cordial to his employees every day?
It was definitely time to go home.
Home. Kara makes me think of the condo as home. Her laughter. Her voice. Her smell. Her very presence makes it home, and not just a place where I go when I'm done in the office.
He exited the office, letting the door close softly behind him. He glanced at Nina's desk, halting abruptly in front of it.
"You need something, boss?" Her tone was professional, but she had a genuine smile on her face.
He looked over the top of an abundant bouquet of roses that was placed prominently on her desk, frowning at his gray-haired assistant. Had he forgotten her birthday? No. No, he hadn't. Nina's birthday was in September. And his secretary, Marcie, always reminded him. "Nice flowers. What's the occasion?" He asked curiously.
Nina gave him a puzzled look, peering at him over her reading glasses. "Boss, it's February fourteenth. Valentine's Day. You know...hearts, flowers, romance." The little woman's smile broadened. "My Ralph has sent me two dozen red roses every Valentine's Day for thirty-seven years." She sighed. "He's still so romantic." Her voice vibrated with affection and adoration.
Valentine's Day? Yeah, he knew the holiday, he had just never paid any attention when it came and went every year. It was just another day, a twenty-four hour period of time when he saw a lot of Cupids and red hearts-when he chose to notice them, which wasn't very often.
He shot a quick glance at his blonde secretary, her desk situated next to Nina's. "Where are your flowers?"
Marcie paused, turning her head toward him and away from the computer on which she had been clicking away on diligently before his question. "Haven't gotten them yet. My hubby will give them to me before we go out to dinner. He always does."
"Uh...is this normal? Dinner? Flowers?" He looked back at Nina with a scowl. Shit, he hadn't planned anything for Kara. She deserved romance, hearts, flowers and whatever else a man did for a woman on a day for lovers.
"It depends. Most couples make their own traditions." His assistant answered, her eyes questioning. "Are you okay?"
Damn it. He didn't know what to do and he hated that feeling. What else was traditional? What else would make a woman happy, feel cherished? Had Kara gotten flowers from her ex? Had he taken her out for dinner?
Setting his briefcase on the floor, he tried to squash the jealousy and possessiveness that were rising up inside of him. It didn't fucking matter what some man had done for her in the past...Simon was determined to do better. She was his woman now. His to protect. His to cherish. He wanted to make her Valentine's Day so memorable that all she could think of was him from this day forward. Except he had no idea how to accomplish his goal.
He leaned over Nina's flowers and told her in a hesitant, low voice. "Kara."
Nina grinned. "She's a gem, boss. A wonderful young woman."
Only one woman could make him say three words that he never thought would come out of his mouth. "I need help." Really, when it came to Kara, the words weren't all that difficult. "I'm not sure what to do. Can you help me, Nina?"
His assistant sprang out of her chair with an enthusiasm and speed that really shouldn't be normal for a woman of her age, motioning vigorously to Marcie to join her. The two of them surrounded him, peppering him with questions.
He should have been embarrassed, but strangely enough, he was not. Simon Hudson, billionaire and co-owner of one of the most powerful corporations in the world, in a huddle with two female employees, listening raptly to every word the women spoke, to every bit of advice they gave.
Sam passed by them, smirking as he made his way to the elevator, obviously able to pick up part of the conversation even though they were speaking in low, conspiring voices.
Simon shot his brother a one-finger-salute when he saw Sam's mocking expression, barely taking his eyes away from the two women in front of him who seemed to know the answers to all of the mysteries of women. Right now, to him, they were goddesses.
He completely ignored the snicker he heard from Sam as his brother walked away. The bastard. He couldn't wait until the day that his elder brother needed advice.
Turning his attention back to Nina and Marcie, he listened, and learned.
Chapter 4
Kara let out an audible, heartfelt sigh as she sank deeper into Simon's garden bathtub, the hot water and bubbles covering nearly her entire body, leaving only her head bobbing above the water. He had offered her the use of his tub in the master bath any time she wanted it, but she had never taken him up on the offer. She had a perfectly wonderful tub and shower attached to her own room, but it wasn't nearly as elaborate as this one.
Admit it. It isn't the size of the tub. It's the fact that it's his that made you come in here.
Frowning, she grabbed a large loofah sponge from the ledge of the tub and starting scrubbing her arms with enough force to make her skin burn. Damn it. She didn't want to admit that she missed Simon so desperately that she wanted to use the tub he used, breathe in his scent that lingered in his bathroom.
Refusing to have sex with him was your brilliant idea.
Yeah, it was. But she was seriously re-thinking that decision. It had felt like the right thing to do at the time. She wanted to be with him, secure in the knowledge that he trusted her completely. Not knowing what had happened to him could cause her to make other mistakes, to hurt him inadvertently. She couldn't stand that thought. She'd hoped he might open up and share his trauma with her, let her help him through it.
But she had been dead wrong.
He had distanced himself, pulled away rather than share his internal torment. He hadn't touched her, hadn't kissed her, since she had told him that she couldn't make love with him unless he told her about the incident. What in the hell had happened to him? Had she pushed him too far, too fast? Would it have been better to settle for only what he was able to give?
I could let him tie me to the bed and fuck me senseless. That way, I can't hurt him unintentionally.
She groaned as she stopped scrubbing her arms raw and lifted a leg from the water, resting it on a seat at the edge of the tub. God, the thought was tempting. She might be an independent woman, but she had loved his sexual dominance, his take-charge assault on her senses. In some strange way, it aroused her beyond endurance, and he exercised that alpha side of him every single time he touched her. Mixed with his added tenderness and vulnerability that peeked through on occasion, it was an impossible-to-forget lure that sucked her toward him like a moth to a flame.