“God, Bennett, I love you so much,” I pant.
His head is nestled in the yoke of my neck as he tries to calm his breathing, and when he lifts up, I run my fingers through his hair and over his damp scalp as he looks into my eyes.
“You’re so stunning like this.”
“Like what?” I question softly.
“Sated.”
Idiot.
ROLLING OVER IN bed, I find myself alone. Nothing new. Bennett’s aftershave still lingers in the air, and when I freshen up and walk out into the open-concept living room, I see him sitting at the bar in the kitchen. He reads a file while drinking his coffee. Tying the sash of my silk robe around my waist, I approach him from behind, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, giving him a kiss.
“Good morning,” he says with a grin, happy to see me.
“You’re up early,” I respond as I note his three-piece suit.
Setting the file down, he turns to pull me in between his legs. “I’m leaving for Dubai. Did you forget?”
“Of course not. But you don’t leave for another few hours,” I tell him and then drop my head, adding in mock sadness, “I wish you would stay.”
Kissing my lips, he draws away and strokes his fingers through my long hair, combing it back. “It’s only for a few days. Plus, you’ll be busy.”
“Busy?”
“I need you to start getting everything lined up for the party. It’s just over a month away and announcements need to go out soon. Richard isn’t going with me, so he’ll be around this week if you need anything.”
Richard is Jacqueline’s husband and Bennett’s business partner. He has always rubbed me the wrong way, but I feign my liking for him merely for Bennett.
He wears an ascot for Chrissakes.
“Okay. Well, I’ll do some work from here today and then call the hotel to set up a meeting.”
As I walk over to fix a cup of hot tea, Bennett gets back to his work before he has to catch his flight. After a while, Baldwin takes his luggage down to the car while we say our goodbyes.
“I’m gonna miss you,” I murmur, to which he responds, “Honey, you always say that.”
Rubbing up against him, I cover his mouth with mine. “Because I always do.”
He smiles.
I smile.
“Call me as soon as you land so that I know you’re okay.”
“I love you.”
I follow him to the elevator and give him one last kiss before he leaves and then make my way to the study to work on the laptop. Getting myself comfortable, I open the lid and type Declan McKinnon into the search engine. Link after link floods the screen. I click on one and read:
Declan Alexander McKinnon
Born in Edinburgh, Scotland
Age: 31
Son of Calum McKinnon and the late Lillian McKinnon
MBA studies at The University of St. Andrews in Scotland
I continue to read about his various academic and business accomplishments and recognitions. I’ve met his father on several occasions and know that the family name is a well-respected one, so I can imagine the pressure on him to keep it as such.
Clicking over to the image search, hundreds of pictures of him grace the screen with a variety of women attached to his arm. Clearly he enjoys his bachelor status, but it seems he is new to the Chicago area.
Without pondering on him too much, I close the internet down and open Bennett’s address book to begin working. Because of his notoriety, our extravagant annual event calls to the cravings of egos. For that alone, security and privacy are a necessity.
In lieu of my usual distaste for my husband, I must give him credit for being a self-made man. For building this multi-billion dollar company from the ground up and making the Vanderwal name something to be admired. A name that adorns me when my former was tarnished.
Once I have a rough guest list, I email it to Bennett for his lookover. Walking out of the study, Clara catches my eye. She’s busy unloading groceries in the kitchen when I say, “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Mrs. Vanderwal, hi,” she says sweetly. “Your husband insisted that I come in today since he’s going away on business. Is he still here?”
“No, you missed him.” Walking over, I step into the kitchen and start helping her put away the food.
“Stop fussing over this,” she playfully scolds, and I smile at her when she shoos me out of the kitchen.
I never had a mom, and although Clara is an employee, she fills our home with a warmth that only a woman with a strong maternal sense can do.
“Would you like for me to fix you a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you. I had one earlier.”
I take a seat at the bar as she asks, “You hungry?”
Shaking my head, I say, “I think I’m going to hang around here today. Bennett wants me to start working on the ball, so I figure I’ll lie around and surf the internet for ideas.”
“Is it that time already?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“How fast the years go by. When you get to be my age, you better not blink. Ever,” she says with a soft smile as she starts to pull out pans to cook.
I walk over to the windows and watch as the snow falls over the city. From up here on the seventy-first floor, I feel like a queen. I take a moment to enjoy the view before I get to work while Clara busies herself in the kitchen, preparing meals for the next few days. Time escapes me and before I know it, the sky is darkening and Clara is saying goodbye.
WHEN I WAKE up the next morning, I take my time getting ready. I wander over to the windows, and as I’m looking down on the busy traffic in the loop on this Monday morning, I take a sip of my tea and then hear my phone ring. I see it’s Bennett and answer.
“Hey, honey,” I say as I walk over to the sofa and take a seat.
“Hi. I tried calling when I landed yesterday.”
“Sorry. I went to bed early.”
“That taxing of a day, huh?” he jokes with light laughter.
“Yeah, something like that. Must be this constant snow we’re having. Makes me lazy,” I tell him. “So how is everything going?”
“Good. Just met with our new client and had a late lunch. I’m heading back to the hotel now to grab a shower before I have to wine and dine these bastards later tonight at dinner, but I wanted to catch you because I missed hearing your voice last night.”
“You missed my voice, huh?”
“I missed more than your voice,” he flirts.
Letting out a deep breath, I tell him, “I miss having you in bed with me. I’m always lonely without you here. This place is too quiet and too still.”
“Didn’t Clara stop by yesterday?” he asks.
“She did. You know, you don’t have to mollycoddle me. I’m a big girl.”
“I like to . . . what did you call it? Mollycoddle?” I can hear the chuckle in his voice when he says this, and I play right back in laughter, saying, “Yes. Mollycoddle. For such a worldly man, you should broaden your vocabulary.”
“Is that so? Well, maybe when I get back I should show you just how expansive my vocabulary is.”
I laugh. If there’s one thing Bennett is not, it’s a dirty talker, but I give him a flirtatious, “Hmm . . . maybe you should come home early.”
“I wish. Although I am enjoying the warmer temperatures here. It’s nice and sunny.”
“If you’re trying to make me jealous, it won’t work. You know I love the cold and grey. Gives me a reason to cuddle up to your warmth every night.”
“So what kept you warm last night?”
“Stuffing my stomach full of Clara’s baked ziti and then huddling down deep in the blankets.”
“Well, I’ll be home soon enough to keep you warm, hun,” he says in a smooth voice before asking, “So what’s on your agenda today?”