Five years after.
“Oh my God, Aria! I can’t believe you just did that!” exclaimed Cynthia as she hurried along, tittering on the edge of her high heels, after me.
I couldn’t believe it either. It wasn’t every day I told off my pompous bosses and got away with it. I must have caught them on a good day. The pedantic idiots actually listened to what I had to say. Unfortunately, the meeting hadn’t all been a win for me. When I proposed that we lease out our excess land banks to commercial farmers rather than opt for development, I should have known the forerunner to this option was none other than Justin Kay.
Gorgeous, incorrigible, and unforgivably rich Justin Kay.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I hated even thinking of him. He was a blonde Greek god that belonged in ancient times. Not because of his attitude to life, but because of his aristocratic good looks. I mean, who even sported a David-like profile anymore. They just didn’t make them in that mould anymore. And with reason! There was only so much palpitations a female’s heart could take. Anymore, and it’s a straight off cardiac arrest and off to meet your maker. Not that I had no haste in wanting to meet mine. There were a number of things I wanted to talk to him about. Not the least of it was one Justin Kay.
But that was not why I hated his guts. He had the temerity to be best buds with Dale Carmichael. The very same Dale Carmichael who dumped me five years ago for my dear cousin, Linda Shubeck. Now, his wife—Linda Shubeck Carmichael.
I guess it wasn’t really Justin whom I hated at all. It was the Carmichaels. Them, I hated with a vengeance. And it was them that I had to see year in, year out at the various family get-together. And in a close-knit family, there were plenty of such events to attend. It took all I had to face them with a grimace that could barely pass muster as a smile, as was still the case the last time we had bumped into each other.
After five years, you’d think I would have gotten over Dale throwing me over for Linda, but as fate would have it, glorious Linda blossomed with each passing year, and dickhead Dale only got hotter. It didn’t make sense that evil should be so blessed. What was wrong with the universe?
Let’s face it. It all came down to the luck of the draw, and I really had drawn the short stick. Figuratively speaking, I did not purport any great height to boast off. But at five feet four, I was no shorty either. My growing pudginess did not help either. It was hard to grin and bear it, or more progressively, grin and mean it when I had a shape like mine to compare Linda with.
She was all slim, gorgeous silhouettes. And I was a pear-shaped, melon-assed all woman. In short, I was my mother-in-the-making.
But we can’t all be blonde stunners. I believed Justin Kay had already cornered the rights on that market. Anything else would simply pale in comparison.
My own dark-brown hair and eyes to match didn’t do much in casting me out of the ordinary either. But on good days, my thick, wavy hair stepped up in the face of dignity and did me proud. That, coupled with an astounding skill in makeup application, and hey presto, I had some convincing if self-delusional hope of not ending up looking like my mother in the coming years. Not that my mother was not amazing to look at. I was sure in her hay days, she’d been a stunner. Now, though, she stretched the limits of pudginess.
I shifted a hesitant hand down my own length, feeling my curves and bumps contorting the expensive line of my business suit to extremes, effectually redesigning the otherwise straight cut of my two-piece jacket and skirt suit. I narrowed my eye on Cyn, who invariably followed the drift of my hand with unseemly interest in her hazel gaze. Cynthia Waters, my assistant, while efficient in her work, was a scrawny fribble of a person and a humongous gossip to boot. I stopped my self-conscious appraisal of my person. There was no way I would allow her disparaging glance at my figure affect me or to let her make mountains of it on the grapevines. Not when I had actually taken measures to rectify the matter. This year would see a new me. No longer would I tumble down the spiral of despair, just thinking about my figure. Thinking of the clothes I could and couldn’t fit into. Thinking of where to shop and where not to. Instead, I would do something about it. I had signed up with a fitness club. It would be the start of a new me. A great start to the New Year!
Now, if I could somehow contrive to ignore Justin Kay, his bright engaging baby-blue eyes, and his unbelievably rosy lips, and set about getting this deal over and done with.
“Cyn, you’ll have to set up the appointment with Justin.” I straightened my spine authoritatively and told her without preamble. I narrowed my gaze at her pointedly again, this time, meaning business.
“Thank you!” She squealed excitedly before staring off into space dreamily.
Yes, that was the reaction Justin produced in the opposite sex. The most eligible bachelor to walk the streets of Sydney. Not that he actually went about walking anywhere. Not when he had his selection of luxury cars to take him wherever he desired. His millions didn’t hurt matters either, and to top things off, his dad passed on just a few months back, leaving him another pile of millions to wade through. It was bewildering really, but for some cosmic reason, shit like that kept happening to the rich. What was he now anyway? A freaking billionaire? Cosmos certainly thought so.
I drew a rueful breath as I watched Cyn walk dreamily off before I called after her bitchily in pretend disgust. “Snap out of it and get to work.” Then, I marched off to do the same.
My office was my only accomplishment in that five years since Dale Carmichael dumping me—the point of my life I seemed to measure all things up against. Small, windowless, and stuffy, it represented more than my failed dreams. It was a shout-out-loud that my life had stalled ever since. Still, it was all I had. It not only ensured I had the means to butter my bread but that I had any bread at all. And if I wanted to retain this hold over my tiny office and all that bread, I more than needed this deal done.
I immediately set about resolutely dragging myself out my chair and set about getting the paperwork straight, ignoring an annoyingly persistent niggling at the back of my head as I did. The niggling thoughts of why I really wanted this deal done. Of why I had proposed this deal in the first place, knowing the reason had nothing at all to do with this office or my job or anything other than satisfying my conscience.
A reason I did my best to ignore through its persistent niggling did its best to hinder my progress. But through sheer determination alone, I managed to roll up my sleeves and dig in to get the deed done, so when Cyn finally called in to say the meeting had been arranged for that afternoon, I was ready and raring to go.
I paused only to grab a quick bite of a Mars Bar to boost my energy and to stop by the toilets to freshen up. There, the urge to splash some water on my face almost got to me. But I refrained in time and resorted instead to reapplying my lipstick with renewed determination, this time choosing a scarlet shade of red that surely stated I meant pure business. Narrowing my eyes, I glared at my profile reflected in the bathroom mirror. It was time to face the facts. I had made my bed, and now, I must lie in it. This project was my doing, so I would face my demons and see it through.
Nodding my head with renewed purpose, I stalked out of the bathroom and then later out of the building with all the determination of a hunter seeking its prey. Bold and masterful, I stepped out into the crisp and clear morning air, pausing only to take in a deep, appreciative breath and admire the Sydney harbour views, letting my eyes rest on the peaceful, deep blue waters of the bay before I turned to face the tall-skyscraper-lined road, still jammed pack with morning traffic, in search for the elusive taxi. Wynyard train station was a short walking distance away, but at this hour of peak traffic, there wasn’t much chance of getting on board the train. It was a good, long walk to Justin’s from where I exited the train anyway.
Moments later, and a transport altercation besides, and I was in a taxi, on my way down to the pier front—a boutique development of stylish office blocks that housed millionaires playing at making yet more of it. As far as I knew, the entire row here belonged to Justin. It was a good idea if you wanted to avoid traffic and if you practically lived off your own private yacht, anyway. But for me, traffic had been pure torture in getting here from the other end of town.
I paid the fare then got out of the taxi, taking in a deep breath to calm a sudden case of the nerves, only to have a waft of clean sea breeze tantalise my nostrils, provoking leisurely thoughts of a sunny day at a beach. Then, the breeze grew stronger and set about ruining the neatly combed dressing of my hair. I bit back a silent curse, knowing my one place of pride had abandoned me, and stormed into the place as if I owned it, only to come to a jerky halt at the sight of what lay in front of me. The office layout was state of the art modern and spacious with, for some stupid ass reason, spindly stairs that led up to the CEO’s cabin.
“Damn, Cyn!” I cursed my assistant pointlessly as was my habit in confronting any obstacles, be it her fault or not. Before drawing in another deep breath, I turned to face the seemingly endless flight of terribly narrow stairs.
But the clock was ticking, and I really didn’t want to dilly-dally in delaying this any longer, so I gritted my teeth and trudged up the stairs to face my nemesis although that would actually be a misnomer. To be completely honest, Justin Kay had only ever been kind to me. Kind with his warm regard whenever we met and certainly kind in acknowledging my existence at all.
But it was that very kindness that stung.
Quite possibly because I desired more than to have my existence acknowledges and because I simply desired. I was not going to apologize for that. I was a female. A female with needs. Hell, I was human, and with Justin Kay, that was all I needed to be. Gender didn’t matter when it came to, obsessively if silently, adoring him. I doubted it mattered all that much to him either. The impossible man was more than overwhelmingly eligible to anyone, and the very worst of it was that he knew it.
“I’m here to see Justin,” I finally huffed out, out of breath, to the scrawny looking receptionist perched precariously just beyond the steps. There was an OH&S issue here somewhere, one I wouldn’t really mind exploiting, especially at the condescending smirk she shot my way.
“Your name?” she questioned pointedly.
“Aria. Aria Longbottom,” I spat out, straight-faced. I had no choice. That really was my name.
“I’ll let Mr Kay know you are here,” she replied with an unprofessional smirk.
I gave her a dismissive nod that I just knew would irk and ambled over to the cushy corner. I was about to sit my ample arse on the red-velvet, soft surface of a lounge chair when the door beside me flew open.
“Aria!” exclaimed Justin as if he were more than excited to meet me. He came striding out of his office and, with nary a pause, had me wrapped up in arms in a warm hug.
A very decidedly warm embrace.
Hot even.
At least for me.
Justin Kay, born in Australia to an English father and an American mother, was blessed with all the charms and unqualified irresistibility that unique combination produced in abundance.
I was usually better prepared at dishing out the evasive manoeuvre, having encountered his exuberance many a time in the past before. But I blamed the endless bout of stairs I had so recently conquered for my more sluggish reactions. So, while I was mostly unsurprised to have him envelop me in a bear hug, I was still stunned to be there in his arms at all. And more so from all the delicious sensations invoked from his embrace. Sensations well remembered and decisively ignored. Usually.
At least, I tried.
Justin and I actually went back a long way—longer than the momentous moment five years ago, in any case. In fact, I think I piddled in his pool when I was five.
But it was definitely five years ago since I last stood this close to this man, … any man. As I mentioned, my evasive maneuverers were usually good. Too good. I unwittingly took a deep, steadying breath, in a helpless effort to claw back from some of the lost dignity. As I didn’t doubt, my usually firm posture had all but melted into his firm, hard, and generally muscular body. It was a sigh of pure rapture that I held back with some difficulty as my senses was engulfed by the exquisite smell of his scent. Delicious! But then, the super-rich could well afford to splash out on the very best.
I breathed hard, greedily taking in my fill until he pulled back from me abruptly.
“You alright?”
“Um, … stairs,” I said innocently, pointing to the evil behind me. It explained away my heavy breathing anyhow. I was not about to enlighten him on my fascination with his choice of fragrance.
“Come in.” He hustled me in and shut the door behind himself. I moved to seat myself before his desk then deliberately busied myself with taking out the documents I had prepared and placing them before me. I needed a moment to regroup my senses and wear down the heat. But when I looked up next, I encountered the smooth, bronze surface of well-worked six pack abs.
“Wha? …” I shot up startled, eyes to clash with his clear entrancing blues.
“You don’t mind if I work out while we discuss this, do you?” Justin whispered softly, the innocuous innocence of his wide, blue eyes screaming pure danger as he drew forward, leaning in to invade my personal space.
“I don’t understand,” I muttered, staring with blatant rudeness at his lovely exposed chest.
“I missed my morning workout, and I just hate how that makes me feel. A little off, you know,” he said, his hot gaze meeting mine.
I nodded my head as if I knew, when I clearly didn’t and then blurted out stupidly, “I’m doing Zumba!”
I watched as a fascinating smile spread across his handsome features. “Are you?”
I nodded, but then, his smile dropped away, and with it, the strange entrancement that had captivated me.
“I know why you did this, and I want you to know that I am grateful,” he said seriously.
“I don’t know what you mean, …” I started to say, but he cut me off.
“Don’t you?” Justin stared down at me, his eyes entreating mine to speak the truth. I dropped my gaze and stared at my lap.
Justin looked earnestly down at me as he explained. “You overheard us. Dale and I were discussing my need for more land at my dad’s funeral, and I saw you listening in. Then, your secretary calls mine a few months later to arrange a meeting to give me just that. I know you did this for me. I wanted to thank you.” He stopped, waiting for me to raise my eyes to face the sudden intensity in his; then he continued. “But more importantly, I want to know why”