Enlightened End Page 5

  How is that even possible?

  I’m going to ruin her life. Flatten her studio, build luxury apartments, and score a major influx for my bank account and my investors in doing so.

  Her smile enters my mind as I stare out over the skyline. Nothing compares to her beauty—even this view. It’s nice but not as nice as the gentle slope of her pale, swanlike neck. The glitter of her gaze when something excites her. The pucker of her pink lips after she’s been thoroughly kissed.

  My intercom buzzes loudly, obliterating my thoughts of sugar plum fairies and bringing me back to the here and now. The cold and harsh world I live in.

  I press the button. “Yes, Annette?” I state curtly, not happy my thoughts of a redheaded beauty have been interrupted by a cold brunette.

  “Grant Winters Senior is on the line for you.”

  I cringe.

  Every time I hear my father’s name, the same name he bestowed upon me, I shiver. There was no other option given to my mother. This I’ve known since I was five, before she left. She wanted to name me Matt. A good, solid name. A name that sounds friendly, approachable. My father had many opinions on the name Matt, all of which he told her, repeatedly. “No son of mine is going to be named after something you wipe your feet on. He will be a leader. Strong. Confident. There’s no name better than my very own.”

  I can feel my shoulders tighten of their own accord as I pick up the receiver and straighten my spine, preparing for the onslaught of negativity he’ll batter me with today.

  “Father.”

  He speaks without greeting. “The stock on Winters Group is down a quarter of a point. What are you going to do about it?” he barks over the line.

  I get these calls regularly. “Father, it’s not my first day in business. It’s fine. The market is fluctuating, and as soon as we announce the high-rises in Berkeley, stock is going to skyrocket.”

  “And when are we doing that? You notify the businesses?”

  Instead of answering his question, I hammer him with one of my own. “Why didn’t you tell me the businesses on that street were thriving and have been there for twenty plus years?”

  My father scoffs. The sound of the freeway noise in the background drowns out some of his disdain. “Because it doesn’t matter. The time is now. The iron is hot, boy. You strike, and you make a billion. I need to know that when I retire, this company is in good hands. So far, you haven’t proven yourself…”

  I brace against my desk. “Father…” I warn, grinding my teeth, not wanting to hear this crap today of all days. My mood since leaving Luna the other day has been volatile. His voice is only adding fuel to the fire.

  “Grant, you need to push those hippies out of there and get to building ASAP. Mark my words…if you don’t, I will.”

  “Now you listen to me, old man. You may be the Chairman of the Board, but I run the day-to-day. I make the decisions now and have for the last eight years. Our stock has skyrocketed every year. Not just once, but multiple times. I’ve made all of us, investors included, very rich men. You will back off the decisions I make, or so help me, when you’re on life support, I’ll pull the plug so fast your last breath will be nothing but smoke.”

  My father’s laughter hits my ears like an icepick to my eardrum. “Finally! You have been paying attention. Ruthless. I love it. Glad to hear you’re firing on all cylinders, boy! Get the job done. See you at the charity gala tomorrow. Don’t be late. Your mother hates that…”

  “She’s not my mother,” I growl into the line.

  “You will respect my wife.”

  “Father, you’ve had six wives. I can barely remember their names. This one is just another in the long line of women you’ve taken in and later tossed aside.” Out with the trash. Seems to be his motto more often than not. Women are treated no better.

  “This one is going to stick.”

  I laugh whole-heartedly. “Father, she’s a gold-digging whore who tried to fuck me at the last dinner you had in your home.” The memory of his stick-thin blonde grabbing my crotch and rubbing her skanky body all over me was a thing of nightmares.

  “You misread her intention,” he grates.

  “When her hand was on my dick and she cornered me in the bathroom, pressing her fake tits against my chest? I don’t think so…Dad.” I say the three-letter word as though it was a four-letter word and with nothing but malice.

  “Yeah, well, she sucks dick like a goddess and doesn’t care when I don’t return the favor. I’m keeping her awhile…so do as you’re told.”

  “I’m bringing a date,” I say with zero emotion because I don’t want him to know how much I genuinely like this woman. If he knows, he’ll do his best to ruin it.

  “One of your bimbos, I assume.” He retaliates for the low blow I made about his wife.

  “Yeah, something like that.” I wince, hating the thought that I suggested Luna was anywhere near the mindless dates I’ve brought to events in the past.

  “When are you going to impregnate one of your models? Hell, a couple of them would be good. You need a legacy, boy. A child to pass our fortune down to. Carry on the Winters good name.” He boasts as though he’s proud of what we’ve built.

  Good name. What a joke. We haven’t been on the side of good since my great grandfather, Gerald Winters, owned the company. Gerry was known by all to be a good man, loving husband, and conducted honorable business. He built things. Beautiful buildings that still stand tall and proud today. He didn’t tear down yoga studios and bakeries to make a few hundred million. He’d do what he could to avoid extinguishing something good, a place the community needs. Thrives on.

  “…get you one of your long-legged twenty-year-olds. Brunette would be preferred,” he says, continuing his bimbo, baby-making rant.

  All I can see is red when he refers to a woman. Red waves and curls for days, falling down her pearlescent back.

  “Look, Father, I have a meeting. I’ll see you at the event tomorrow.” Without waiting for his reply, I hang up the phone abruptly and go back to my pacing.

  I scratch at my forearms, the sides of my neck, and then grip my hair and tug on the strands until the roots pull tight, sending a ripple of pain to ease the anger and hostility I feel when talking to my father.

  Christ! The man makes my blood boil.

  Needing to do something, let go of this hate, I pull out my phone and dial her number without even thinking twice about it.

  It rings once before her sing-song voice picks up. “Hello, Grant.”

  When she says my name, it hits me like calamine lotion over a wretched case of poison ivy. Cool, relaxing, a balm to put out the fire raging inside me.

  “Lamb,” I say, but it comes out practically a whisper.

  “What’s the matter?” she asks instantly.

  I left her the other day, iced her out, and her immediate response to my call is to check in on my well-being. Can this woman be real? I doubt it. I’ve never met anyone like her.

  “I’m better now that I’m hearing your voice.” I want to give her a bit of myself. She deserves to know how she affects me.

  “As opposed to before you called me?”

  “Yeah.” I swallow around a wicked case of dry mouth.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she offers, instantly thoughtful.

  Christ. Too good to be true.

  I don’t deserve her kindness. I’ve done nothing to earn it. Though I’ll take it, hold it close my chest, and wallow in it like the schmuck I am.

  “No, I don’t. I thought I’d call and confirm everything for Sunday.” I make up the best excuse I can pull out of thin air as to why I’d be calling her.

  She giggles. Christ, even her giggle sounds like music. A melody that digs a hole straight into my chest and eases the beast inside.

  “You said you’d have your receptionist call. Annette. She’s a lot nicer now that she’s taken one of my yoga classes, by the way,” she tuts proudly.

  Annette is taking yoga with L
una? “Excuse me? Are you recruiting allies?”

  “Always!” She laughs into the phone. “Really, though, when I met her the other day when I came to see you, she wasn’t very nice. All pinchy-faced and grumpy. So I talked to her and gave her a card for a free yoga session to try. I was surprised, but she came yesterday. Loved it and bought a ten-session card.”

  “I see.” I shake my head and find myself smiling. Only Luna could get the ice queen to loosen up. It’s the reason I’ve kept Annette on. She’s a cold-hearted bitch, but she’s great at her job. Pretty, though not pretty enough I’d risk breaking our no-fraternization policy. Besides, I don’t tend to play in my own backyard. Too many complications with office romances.

  “And since she was already here,” Luna continues, “we had coffee at Sunflower and talked about the charity event specifics. She’s sending a car to pick me up, and I’ll meet you there.”

  “No.” The one word is direct and straightforward, lacking any subtlety.

  “Huh? No? Do you not want me to go? I’d understand…” She starts to backtrack, her voice taking on a sullen quality I don’t like at all. I prefer my fairy princess happy, with joy in her tone.

  “No, I’ll be picking you up. Not a car. A gentleman picks up his date at her door.” A gentleman? Where am I coming up with this shit?

  Her response is soft. “Oh, okay. I’d like that very much, Grant.”

  “Good. That’s settled. What’s your address?” I walk back over to my desk to write it down.

  “Just pick me up in front of Sunflower Bakery. I’ll be waiting on the sidewalk,” she says, back to her cheery tone.

  “Lamb, I said, a gentleman picks up his date at her door—”

  “That is my door,” she cuts me off.

  “Sunflower Bakery is your door? That doesn’t make any sense.” I sit down in my black leather office chair and roll around to face the view once more. The sun is shining across the buildings, rays of light glinting off the windows in a dazzling natural light show.

  Luna laughs. “It does because I live in the apartment on top of the bakery, silly. You see, Dara McKnight is my best friend, and her family owns the bakery. She used to live there, but when she married Silas a couple years ago, she let me take over her apartment.”

  She lives in the fucking bakery.

  Luna continues as my thoughts twist, turning darker. “The place is perfect for a single woman, the rent is super cheap, and it’s right next to Lotus House.”

  “You live above the bakery,” I remark for no reason. The answer is not going to change no many how times I pose the question.

  “Yes.” She chuckles. “Why is this not making its way into your brain?”

  Probably because it just fucking dawned on me I’m not only going to flatten Luna’s business, putting her out of a job, I’m going to be making her homeless.

  “Fuck!” I growl, stand up abruptly, and start to pace, phone pressed tightly to my ear.

  “What’s the matter now?” A hint of worry mars her tone.

  Worried about me. Fucking worried about me. She needs to be worried about herself, about the fact that I’m personally going to be responsible for destroying everything she has in her life.

  Her work.

  Her home.

  Her street.

  “I gotta go!” I clip, grinding my molars together.

  “Um, okay. Well, I’ll see you Sunday. Annette said the car would pick me up at six. I guess that means I’ll see you at six instead.”

  “Yes,” I bite out, still pacing, back to being angry, only this time for a completely different reason.

  “I look forward to it. And I hope whatever is bothering you gets better. Namaste,” she says sweetly before hanging up.

  Namaste.

  Fucking namaste.

  “Jesus!” I roar and toss my phone across the room until it slams into the back of the leather couch and falls onto the seat.

  * * *

  A few more sleepless nights, and I’m a fucking nightmare to be around. Annette avoided me all of Friday after I yelled at her when she brought my coffee, because it was too sweet. She argued that she made it the same way she has every morning for the last five years. And she did. Except I don’t deserve sweet. The same goes for the redheaded princess I see standing in front of the display window at Sunflower Bakery. The yellow light shines like a halo around her, making her look like a freaking angel.

  I park my Aston Martin at the curb, not giving a shit it’s a loading zone. Luna gets front-door service. She deserves it.

  When I get out of the car, her glossy pink lips form a wide smile. “Wow. You look handsome.” Her voice is breathy, and I want to eat that sound right from her lips.

  She’s standing in a form-fitting, white sequined dress. It’s simple, classy, and spectacular. Her red hair is twisted up with curls coming out at the top strategically. There’s a whimsical white daisy inserted right at the edge of the twist.

  A fuckin’ flower in her hair.

  Natural. Simple. Beautiful.

  The hem of the dress is short, falling about two inches above her knee, gifting me a sexy length of leg. Her legs are bare, and she’s paired the dress with a pair of sky-high, gold, strappy stilettos with an insanely thin, four or five-inch heel. Her toes have been painted a soft nude, proving just how elegant she is.

  “Lamb…you overwhelm me with your beauty. I love you in white. It suits you to perfection.”

  She grins while glancing down at the dress. “You like it? I borrowed it from Dara. I told her this color looks better with her darker skin tone, but she swore you’d love it.”

  I come close, place a hand at her waist, and tug her body against mine. Her hands flatten against my chest, and she lifts her head, caught off guard.

  “I love it,” I whisper only a few inches from her mouth.

  Her smile turns shy until I dip closer and kiss her. The second my lips touch hers, she’s a temptress, her fingernails digging into my dress shirt, her mouth opening instantly, and a moan slipping from her lips. The sound goes straight to my dick. Wrapping my arms around her more fully, I deepen the kiss, tasting mint and peachy lip gloss. The combination is mouthwateringly good. So good, we stand in front of the bakery making out like a couple of lust-drunk teens.

  Eventually, her body starts to wiggle against mine, reminding me we are not only not alone, but there is no bed in sight. Then again…she did say her apartment is upstairs.

  She tears her lips from mine but keeps her body close. “Hey, big man, I like kissing you; boy, do I ever. You’re a really great kisser…”

  “Thank you.” I cross my wrists behind her, resting them on the top of her ass.

  “You’re welcome.” She huffs. “Nevertheless, I was kind of looking forward to your party. I haven’t been to a big event since Knight & Day Productions released a new album, and I wasn’t on the arm of a handsome man like yourself. I went with Ricky, funny enough, to make his then boyfriend jealous…”

  I press two fingers over her kiss-swollen lips. She stops speaking. “Okay. No more kissing.”

  Her nose scrunches up, and her eyes turn a strange color. “I didn’t say no more kissing…”

  I laugh out loud, pulling her close and burying my face in her neck. The scent of melon hits my nose, and I inhale deeply. “Luna, you smell so good.”

  “Really?”

  “Lamb, if we didn’t have to go tonight, I’d push you right through that door, walk you up to your apartment, and bend you over your bed so fast you’d forget your name. That’s how much your scent affects me.”

  “Wow. Um, sounds as though you like it a lot.”

  I snicker and cup her cheeks. “You look sensational. Come on. Time to show you off to all the stuffy businessmen and give some money to charity.”

  “I love charity work!” she exclaims as I grab her hand and lead her the few feet to the passenger side door. I open the door, and she slides in.

  Of course she looks damn good in my
car.

  When I get to the other side, I hop in and take off toward San Francisco. I glance over at Luna, and she’s sitting primly, her knees together and off to the side. Her skirt has ridden up, giving me a great view of her shapely thighs and smooth skin.

  “How many classes do you teach a week at Lotus House?” I ask, wanting to know more about her.

  “My set week is two classes a day, one on the weekend as we offer a shorter number of classes during the weekends. However, I often sub in as needed, which typically ends up being once a week.”

  I choke on this information. “You teach fourteen yoga classes a week?”

  She grins. “Yeah.”

  “How are you not stick thin?” I blurt stupidly. One thing all men know is to never comment about a woman’s weight. Whether they are thin or carrying a little extra, or hell, even a lot extra. It’s the topic men go to if they want to sabotage a relationship or just to be an asshole. Apparently, I’m the latter, because I have no desire to sabotage anything with Luna that my business practices aren’t already going to do on my behalf.

  Luna laughs, and it echoes sweetly around the car. “Well, for one, I eat at Sunflower every day.” She leans her head against the backrest and looks at me, her gaze turning fierce. “Every day. That means a pastry or two and a latte. And I love me a latte. All the fat included. Whole milk all the way!” She shrugs and presses her fingers to the thick swoop of bangs over her brow. “Later in the day, I usually have something from Rainy Day Café for lunch or dinner, and they make the best sandwiches on thick focaccia bread. Everything they make is delicious. We’ll go there next week.”

  I realize my fairy princess enjoys her food. “Basically, you’re saying you like to eat.”

  “Absolutely! The more food, the better. You should watch out tonight. I’m going to try every single hors d’oeuvre they have…maybe even twice!” She shimmies in her seat as if she’s genuinely excited.

  Usually these types of things bore me to tears, but being able to see it through Luna’s eyes might just make the evening more fun.

  I place my hand above her knee and pat her leg. “Have at it. I’m starving, so I may just keep up with you tonight.”