His Glorified Maid

Twenty-Four

Carlos wanted to break something, smash something. Hurt something. Anything to externalise the pain that hit him twofold. He'd seen the way Paul had looked at her as if she were the only one for him. He kept seeing Michaela with her hand in her ex-fiancés, sharing private jokes while her eyes were shining. That guy was the reason she didn't want him. Veronica's voice resurfaced with a memory that devoured his self-control. "You never get over your first love," she'd told him.

And he'd seen the way her old crew responded to her. They loved her. He could see her old life inviting her back, where there'd be no room for him.

He'd acted abominably. He'd dragged her away like a caveman and had hurt her. He'd seen his mark on her wrists, the angry red marring her creamy skin.

Jealousy had wrapped its claws around his heart and to ease the pressure he'd carelessly thrown accusations at her, using his words like a whip to lash out at her. He saw pain flash in her eyes, saw the physical contraction of her torso as if he'd struck her in the gut.

He should have been fighting for her, giving her a reason to choose him. Not insulting her.

With a heavy heart he waited, listening for the moment she'd disappear behind the door lost to him. When nothing happened, he turned around. She hadn't left. Her body, which had looked slumped, defeated only a moment ago, straightened. By the time she faced him, her chin was raised, and her eyes, her soft brown eyes, looked at him with a mix of fear and determination.

"Your touch," she said as one of her hands fluttered over her skin, "your kiss, feels different. I had wondered if that was because you're experienced, or if it's because I'm different. Like maybe my feelings turn your touch into something more sensuously volatile, unpredictable. Explosive."

Pride swelled inside at her choice of words. Sensuously volatile. Unpredictable. Explosive. Yes, he was experienced, but her touch and responsiveness to him had nothing to do with experience and it killed him that she believed that. It was her inexperience that hid that truth from her.

He wanted to corrupt that innocence until she recognised that it was their shared feelings and not his experience that provoked her response to him.

"Seeing Paul again was like finding that missing voice inside my head. He soothed the loss I felt and the fear that I couldn't shake."

He felt himself wincing from the pain her words elicited. This was it. He prepared himself for the loss and hardened his features so he didn't expose his true feelings when she told him she was in love with someone else.

"I told him that I was planning on quitting my job because -"

Quit? He watched her hesitate, watched as her lower lip quivered as she fought her fear and unconsciously, he shifted forwards as if to catch her words better.

"Because I was falling for you. When I lost Paul, I lost everything that we'd shared in. The Zephyr, our plans, my friends. And here I was setting myself up for that kind of loss again." She paused to clear her throat. "He accused me of planning for the day love fails."

He was stunned into silence. His wealth, his authority, and his power allowed him to take whatever he wanted and yet love had always been denied him. Ironically, it was those same things that had deprived him of love. He hadn't been able to trust friends and girlfriends alike. Their motives were always insincere as they sought access to the kind of lifestyle he could offer. He'd thought Veronica was different, but she turned out to be the worst kind there was.

Michaela was sweet and honest, and open, and courageous. She was everything Veronica wasn't, and he'd recognised that and responded to it. Fell in love with that...