His To Love Part 9

Tyson reached out and pressed his palm to my cheek. His lips brushed against mine once, and then twice, before he pulled back and said, "I want to take you to dinner tomorrow night. Do you have any plans?"

I stiffened as I remembered my father saying Malik could be contacting me tomorrow, but I couldn't imagine he'd want to do dinner immediately.

"I shouldn't," I finally said. "I have to do some job hunting and apartment looking, but can I let you know once I'm certain?"

"Definitely. Have a good day."

He kissed me again, another soft goodbye kiss that lacked the pa.s.sion of our first kisses this morning. When he was gone, I was once again left staring at a closed hotel room door. Disappointment balled inside my gut at his abrupt departure, at the way our morning went from something that could have been really...really good...to distant and pa.s.sionless.

Because if it were up to me, we would have been back in my bed, pleasuring each other with a quickie if that was all he had time for before he had to leave.

The disappointment in my gut grew into something larger at the thought that maybe he didn't want me as much as I wanted him.

"Stop it," I muttered to myself and reached for my now barely warm cup of coffee. "You're just h.o.r.n.y, and he was in a hurry. No big deal."

Somehow, the pep talk helped, as did a fresh cup of coffee.

I spent the rest of the afternoon searching for jobs, ensuring my resume was up to date, and then emailing it off to several different companies in the Detroit metro area and a few northern suburbs.

Then I fixed myself up for dinner at my parents' and spent time with my mom. All before trudging back to my hotel room, exhausted and emotionally drained from another few hours spent at my mom's bedside, sitting there with nothing to do while she slept almost the entire time.

I crawled into my bed and was just about ready to fall asleep when my phone beeped.

Blackbird: Night, Blue A grin stretched my tired lips. My body warmed.

Me: Night, Black His response was almost instant.

Blackbird: Tomorrow Since I didn't know if that was a question or a promise, I didn't respond. Grinning, I slid the phone back onto the table, curled under my covers, and fell asleep with one arm wrapped around Tyson's pillow from the night before, wis.h.i.+ng like h.e.l.l I that hadn't let the cleaning crew into my room so I could still smell him on the sheets and pillowcase.

I didn't even care if that made me seem crazy anymore.

- "You look distracted, bella."

Clarissa's gentle and accented voice pulled me out of the daydreams that I had been having of Tyson. She was completely right. My cheeks warmed under her knowing smile.

"I'm just looking for jobs."

She snapped a towel on the kitchen counter as she pa.s.sed me. "Looks to me you have a man on your mind and not a job."

I pressed my lips together, but she still saw the smile in my eyes.

"You going to tell me about him?"

I shook my head. While Clarissa knew about Tyson and me in high school, she had always warned me it was a bad idea, even while helping me hide it. I knew what it could have cost her. I wouldn't do that to her again. Not that there was anything to hide.

Because today was tomorrow and it was already two in the afternoon and I hadn't spoken to Tyson about the date he wanted to take me on. I hadn't heard from him at all since that text. And I still didn't know if I could even go on a date with Tyson because I also hadn't heard from Malik Rilotti.

I desired to see or speak with only one of those men.

The wondering and the waiting left me feeling scatterbrained for most of the afternoon I had been at my parents' house. Deciding it didn't make sense to do my work at the hotel and then come see my mom only to have her sleep, I chose to do both at once and got dressed and ready that morning in attire my father would deem "appropriate," which meant my toes were crammed into heels and I was wearing dress pants. I had loosened the b.u.t.ton and zipper on the pants and kicked off the heels hours ago, but I still didn't feel comfortable. Regardless, when my father had seen me, he seemed pleased as he dipped his chin in my direction and hurried out the door to a meeting.

I had spent the day alternating between visiting my mom upstairs and shooting off resumes in the kitchen while she slept. Clarissa was my only, albeit sporadic, company during the day and she had caught me daydreaming twice. She caught me playing mindless games on my cellphone three times.

Only once did she see me email a resume or contact a hotel about an event planner position.

Turns out that while the economy in Detroit was on the upswing, people still weren't in party mode yet, and my options were slim. I let loose a growl of frustration, my hands harshly brus.h.i.+ng through my hair as I continued to stare at the computer screen. Annoyance with my own situation grew with every pa.s.sing moment.

Technically, I didn't have to work. I knew this. I had a nice, hefty trust fund sitting in a bank account, every year growing more interest than I could ever imagine spending. I never wanted to touch it, though, considering I knew that some of the ways that money was earned was with blood, drugs, and other illegal activities I didn't want to know about. As far as I was concerned, it didn't exist to me, but on days when I saw the small amount I'd saved from odd jobs in Colorado and from working on the farm, its temptation called to me.

My phone buzzed on the counter and I reached for it, hope blooming in my chest that it might be Tyson. But the number was unknown, and I quickly slid my thumb across the screen, thinking it could be someone about a job I had applied for.

"h.e.l.lo?"

And hope disappeared when a masculine voice replied, "h.e.l.lo, Gabriella."

Based on the slight accent, and the deep tone, I instantly knew who had called.

"Mr. Rilotti."

A low, rough chuckle filtered through the phone. My fingers gripped it tighter. "Come now, Gabriella. We've known of each other for too long to be so formal, and hopefully will know each other better soon." A cold, slick feeling slid down my spine. I stayed silent, letting that speak for itself when he smoothly said, "I would like to see you for dinner tonight."

I jerked back in my chair. "Tonight?" A quick scan of my body proved I wasn't dressed in anything nearly suitable enough for dinner. I was certain my hair was bedraggled after running my fingers through it all day.

"No time like the present to discuss our arrangement, I believe."

Arrangement. I scowled at the word and thank goodness no one saw me do it, especially him. Malik Rilotti was a man I knew only in name and through brief introductions. At fifteen years my senior, and a widower for the last several years, I couldn't imagine we would have anything in common. Reminding myself that this was for my mother, for appearance, and simply for one meeting and not an arrangement, as he seemed to think, I forced down my unwanted feelings and played my role.

"Certainly, Mr....Malik. Dinner tonight will be lovely. Where would you like to meet?"

"A man doesn't meet a woman for an evening out, Gabriella. I will pick you up at your hotel at six thirty."

At least he had some manners. I wanted to argue with him, but knew it would be pointless. "I look forward to seeing you," I said through a fake smile.

I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. Then I wished I could tell my mom and dad to take a hike and that there was no way in h.e.l.l was I helping them further their empire. But I couldn't bear to see my mother's expression without giving her request a chance, even if it held the same odds as a s...o...b..ll surviving in h.e.l.l.

"Don't be late," he said in a clipped tone, and then he was gone.

So much for manners. I frowned at my phone.

I flipped through my contacts until I found Tyson's number in my phone, smiling when I saw the name Blackbird, and hit the green call b.u.t.ton. It rang four times before I heard his rich voice in his voicemail greeting, telling me he couldn't come to the phone and he'd return any messages as promptly as possible. He was formal on the phone, and my smile grew as he continued speaking, but I hung up without leaving a message.

"There's that smile I love," Claude said, walking into the kitchen. "Any particular reason you seem so pleased this afternoon? A gentleman caller perhaps?"

My smile disappeared, and I thought of the gentleman who'd called me versus the one who I'd called. There was no comparison between the two. I was stuck entertaining the one I didn't want for an entire evening.

I shook my head and looked down at my screen. "No, Claude. Not really."

"Hmm. A shame, really. I always imagined you with a lovely husband, a man who adores you, and a brood of children."

I laughed softly at his description. "Yeah, well if my parents have their way, I'll get none of that."

My head snapped up and my lips pressed together. "I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have said that."

No one disrespected my father's wishes, and no one spoke against him. Things I'd forgotten, but in their house, I needed to remember that. Claude was kind, but he was still my father's employee and therefore would always be more loyal to him than to me and my frustrated ramblings.

"No worries," Claude said, clearly uncomfortable. "Have a good day." He walked to me, brushed his lips against my cheek and whispered, "Be careful, bella. Eyes and ears are everywhere."

"Of course," I muttered when he pulled back.

My shoulders sagged as he shuffled out of the kitchen, back to do whatever he was supposed to do. I pulled up my text messaging and sent Tyson a message.

Me: So sorry. Won't be able to see you tonight.

Then I reluctantly slid out of my chair and packed up what I had brought with me to my parents'. On my way up the stairs to say goodbye to my mom for the day, my phone vibrated.

Blackbird: Unfortunately, I have a client who just returned to town so I'll be busy too.

Disappointment flickered inside me because I wouldn't have been able to see him anyway. Silly, really, since I was the one that originally said I had plans.

Me: Some other time?

Blackbird: Yes. I can still feel you on my lips.

I swallowed thickly as I read the text, my body heating in all the right places when another text came in.

Blackbird: I want to feel you in other places, too...Tomorrow?

Me: Yes.

I typed the word, the answer, the promise, without thinking, and before I could see his response, already knowing my cheeks were flushed, I silenced my phone, dropped it into my purse, and headed into my mother's room.

All the while, a smile fought to break through. Because I will get to see Tyson. Tomorrow.

Chapter 8.

I stepped into the lobby of my hotel five minutes before Malik was supposed to arrive, properly dressed in a simple but elegant black sheath dress that stopped just above my knees. The dress was conservative, with a wide neck that reached my collarbone and, because it was sleeveless, I had a silver pashmina draped over my elbows and across the back of my waist in case I felt chilly later. On my feet were simple high-heeled nude pumps, also conservative, but they made my already long and toned legs look like they went on forever, though not in an overtly s.e.xual manner.

Dressing for tonight's dinner was not easy; I wanted to look appropriate and like someone who should be seen on Rilotti's arm, knowing wherever he planned on taking me, eyes would follow. Yet the last thing I wanted was for him to think he could have more just by exposing skin. I didn't want there to be any confusion as to why I agreed to meet with him, and I planned to make that clear at dinner. I wouldn't consider this. I had not agreed to any arrangement, as he so ineloquently put it earlier.

Something heavy swirled in my gut and I pressed my hand to my lower belly. Malik Rilotti was a man accustomed to getting whatever he wanted, and I doubted the way he achieved that was any more moral or ethical than the way my own father did.

With a heavy swallow, I tightened my hand on my small silver clutch and I tried to shake off my nerves. Bangles on my wrist c.l.i.tter-clattered with the sudden, short movements. It echoed in my ears and it was the only sound I heard until a sleek, black town car pulled to the curb.

Then everything fell silent.

I froze as I watched the valet open the back door. My pulse jumped to my throat as the back door opened and Malik unfolded himself from the backseat.

I had met him only a few times in my life when my family hosted parties at our house. I would have been a young child and teenager then, and hadn't given his appearance or his looks any thought. At the time, he had just been my father's co-worker. To say I noticed now would be an understatement. He was truly stunning. He most likely had no problems finding a woman to warm his bed. My guess? He didn't even have to snap his fingers to get a woman to fall at his feet. He could probably stun them all with a knowing glance.

Tall, clearly over six feet, his frame was leaner than I expected as I watched him slip a tip into the valet's hand and glide into the hotel. Yes, glide. He was so smooth, his feet didn't appear to touch the ground as he made his way to me in a sleek black suit with a white dress s.h.i.+rt opened at the throat and no tie. His thick black hair was speckled at the temples with just hints of gray, but he was clearly and instantly one of the most refined, s.e.xually magnetic men I had ever seen in my life.

His black eyes fell to me and his full, dark lips separated into a welcoming smile.

"Gabriella," he murmured, his voice soft and rich. He moved in close, and I had to fight a flinch when his large, firm hand settled on my hip. His lips brushed against one of my cheeks then the other before he pulled back. "You are stunning."

I flushed under his praise instinctively. He knew how to look, how to touch. Most women probably lost their minds around this man. I didn't even want him, and yet I was finding it difficult not to preen under his appreciative gaze.

I swallowed and then remembered my manners. "Good evening, Malik."

His eyes flickered with amus.e.m.e.nt and his lips quirked on one side. "Are you ready to go?"

No. No I wasn't. I had the sudden urge to chuck my heels and take off running to my room and hide under the covers for eternity. This man's presence was disarming and frightening.

But I couldn't fight him. There was no way.

With my nod, his hand on my hip slid to my lower back. He turned and guided me out of the hotel and into the car.

The entire time, I felt where he touched me, felt the heat from him at my side, and I'd be lying if I were to say that it didn't affect me. It did. His power and prestige along with his elegance and grace was unmatchable. He was much like my father, instantly commanding respect and honor with a look and a touch.

Perhaps it was because I was raised to follow, to obey without question, but I couldn't deny that as he sat in the seat next to me, staying an appropriate distance away from me on the back bench, that I felt a pull to do both, without questioning him, either.

It was distressing and I looked out the window, trying to gather my scattered thoughts when his voice cut in.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

I blinked out the window, worrying my lower lip between my teeth before I set it free and turned to him. "I promised my mother I would consider this."

Something akin to disappointment flashed across his face before he hid it. "I see."

And I hated that even though I didn't want to be with him, in any way, I still felt that disappointment cling to me, slither its way into my chest, and grip me painfully.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean that as harshly it sounded."

His smile widened fractionally. "I cannot fault you for your honesty. But I'm hoping by the end of the evening, you will be giving this idea more than just consideration."

Doubtful. Highly. Yet I had risked offending him enough, so I matched his smile, waited for his approving nod, and then turned back to the window. We were relatively quiet on our way to wherever he planned, and I watched the city of Detroit slide past the windows. Tall, well-lit buildings so high I had to crane my neck in order to see the tops of them as we sped by.

"I forgot how large this city is," I said quietly, breaking the silence. "And how loud it can be."

Glancing at Malik, I saw him press his lips together. "I imagine life in Colorado was much simpler."

"It was." I smiled fondly, remembering Aunt Eleanor, whom I was beginning to miss dearly. She had essentially been my only friend and confidante for the last decade, and I missed her quiet, gentle wisdom. It always made me wonder what my mother used to be like, before she became fully immersed in the Galecki family role of hostess and high-society socialite. "It was definitely simple, quiet. I've only been gone a few days, but I already miss the stars."