"All right, all right," Patrick said as he returned to his seat. "Back to the agenda. Let's talk through investmentprojects."
It wasn't clear whether he'd solved the mysteries of the chandelier, and I tuned out the rest of the discussion. Investment projects—properties bought by the firm with the purpose of restoring and selling for a tidy profit—didn't interest me today. I needed to handle things with Alex, and I needed to do that before the hospital's fundraising gala onFriday.
"That needs to be delegated and that's the fucking end of it," Patrick said, his tone sharp enough to cut through my thoughts of long-stemmed red roses andgroveling.
"I'm in charge here," Shannon said, stabbing her finger at a purple file folder in front of her. "You presented this property to me. I took it. It's mine. I'll determine when and if delegation isnecessary."
My mind flashed to our room at the inn and I saw my hand circling Alex's neck. I heard myself saying, "I'm in charge here.Understand?"
And then I remembereditall.
Her hand on my leg under the table atMagdalenae.
The devious sparkle in her eyes when she ordered the best bottle of whiskey in the house and told me she wanted us to get a little toohonest.
My mouth on her neck, jaw, cheeks, lips,everywhere.
The backseat of the hired car where she was straddlingmylap.
Stumbling into the inn and barely making it to our room because I couldn't wait another breath to taste her and feel her heataroundme.
Stowing away my strength to keep from tearing the door off its hinges or slamming it shut, and then unleashing it allonAlex.
The scent of her skin and how it tasted just below her ear, and the way goosebumps rippled over her breasts when I pushed inside and called herAly.Aly.
Fucking her while her pulse thrummed against myfingers.
Watching her shake off everything, and showing me a softer, hungrier side, one that had her eyes widening and brows lifting as if to sayDon't you think you can fuck me a little harderthanthat?
Sliding my palm between her legs while I moved inside her, and saying, "I'm going to serve you like a queen and fuck you like awhore."
I sucked in a breath as I saw my hands all over her. Twisting in her hair, pinching her nipples, wrapping around her throat, slapping her ass, digging into her skin, sliding between her lips.Everywhere.
And I should've done everything differently. Not the fucking or the spanking or the choking, but the entire morning. I should've gone down to that dining room, thrown her over my shoulder, and carried her sweet ass backtobed.
And that was what I needed to do now. That, with some slightmodifications.
I stood up then, fumbling everything within reach. My laptop flipped over, my coffee went flying into my lap, my phone bounced off the hardwood floor. It was a tiny tornado, an entire weather system of my owncreation.
"I have an emergency," I said, running a hand over the soggy patch on my leg. "I have to step out. Now. Right now. I havetogo."
Patrick was immediately concerned, and that was reasonable considering immediate concern was his dominant reaction to most things. "What's wrong? Is it Berkeley Street? Comm Ave? Pinckney? Joy Street? MarlboroughStreet?"
I rubbed the face of my phone down my chest andanswered, "Yes."
Not waiting for Patrick's response, I darted down the stairs and back to my office. I shoved my things into my messenger bag and then headed for the door. If I was fast and Alex was running late, I could still catch her before she left for thehospital.
I sprinted down Derne Street, toward Cambridge Street and Alex's apartment. I knew her mornings were usually tied up with rounds, but it was possible her schedule was different today. Unlikely, but possible. It could be one of those days when she went in later because she was picking up the night floats or on-calls or whatever that was allabout.
When I reached her door, I pressed her buzzer over and over, until I couldn't feel my fingertip. No answer. Then I rang Hartshorn's apartment. Nick's too. He hadn't lived there in months but it would always be Nick's apartmenttome.
Stillnothing.
Dejected, I dropped down on the top step and hugged my bag to my chest. The passing traffic sang an erratic lullaby of blared horns, roaring engines, and shouted cursing. I sat there for alongtime.
When I was younger, I used to crawl out the attic window and onto the roof. Weed had often been involved. I'd watch the clouds, the stars, the flights taking off and landing at Logan. I'd stare up at the sky for hours and hours, not really seeing anything but granting my troubles the space to wander awayfromme.
These days, people would call it self-care. Treating myself kindly to compensate for living with an abusive demon father. Back then I'd seen it as a reprieve from everything. A secret corner of the universe where I hadn't been required to talk or think or confront any of the issues teeming underthatroof.
