Page 15

Chapter fifteen

M onday morning came with an early wake-up call. Dom boomed over the phone line, his complete and utter disgust at his son's recent in-office escapade. “How could you be so careless? Did you think someone wouldn't notice what you were doing? You should know better than anyone how well sound travels with those wood floors. You were there when we had them installed! I don't think I have to say how disappointed we all are. Furthermore, it hurts me to have to take action against both you and Paris for your stupidity!”

“Dad, I'm sorry. It won't happen again,” assured Vic.

“You're damned right it won't happen again! If it does, you’ll be cut off from the business, and this family! Keep your extracurriculars outside the office!” Quieting, Dom added, “There will be no board meeting today. I can't stand to look at you. Report back to maintenance, and take Paris with you.” Before Vic had a chance to respond, Dom slammed the phone down in his ear.

“Shit,” said Vic aloud, “shit, shit, shit!”

Paris, who had arrived home to change clothes in the middle of Vic's conversation, stood in the hallway listening. Vic stepped out of his room and jumped back, startled to see her standing there. “What's going on?” she asked, though she already had a good idea of his response.

“That was my father. No meeting this morning. He’s sending us back to janitorial.”

Paris threw her purse on the floor and stomped off to her bedroom. Stepping back into the hall, she pointed her finger at him. “I can't stand to look at you, let alone be in the same room as you! We’re back at the bottom because you’re an idiot, and you can't keep it in your pants!”

Turning, she marched back into her bedroom and slammed the door shut. Opening the door again, she popped her head out and yelled, “I actually felt something for you, but you’re such a man-whore that I'd have to be an even bigger ignoramus to think you could be capable of showing genuine feelings for anyone, least of all me!” Turning away, she again slammed the door.

While Paris hadn't actually touched him, it felt as if he’d been slapped. He was an idiot. There was no question in his mind. She was right. How could she have possibly entertained the idea of being with him when he’d done nothing to prove he was capable of any form of commitment? He’d spent time and energy being angry at her for not wanting more when, in reality, it was his own fault she had shut down. He had played into exactly what she would’ve expected of him by sleeping with Angela.

Sitting down on the sofa, he lowered his head into his hands. What a mess he’d made. Paris was mad, his father was mad, and he definitely couldn’t blame Chase and Mya if they felt angry as well, considering he had also gotten them thrown into smaller apartments because of his actions.

Paris lay face down on her bed in her room, sobbing into her pillow. She’d worked so hard to lift herself up, but she couldn’t control Vic's actions. As she was lying there crying, it occurred to her she was part of the problem. She and Vic had stopped working together after the weekend at the cabin. They’d come so close to figuring things out and then turned their backs on one another because they let sex get in the way. How would they make it through the next several weeks if they couldn’t handle speaking to each other or being in the same room? Sitting up, she wiped her face with a tissue. She knew the only way around their current roadblock would be for them to swallow their pride and talk things out.

Reaching out, Vic knocked on Paris's door. “Paris, I know you’re angry with me, but I want you to know that I’m sorry for dragging you into this situation. I know I’ve been apologizing a lot lately. Let's go to work and give ourselves a day to think about things, and then, if you’re ready, perhaps we can discuss what’s happened, as well as our plan going forward?” He heard no response.

Paris listened until his footsteps disappeared, and then she got dressed for the day. She didn’t exit her room until she was certain he had left for work. While she knew they’d eventually have to deal with all that had passed, she was going to give herself some time to think, as he had suggested. Feeling sorry for herself and humiliated, she was not ready to face him.

Chase was waiting at the elevator when Vic arrived. “I heard you've been demoted again,” he commented. The look on his face was all business. “When will you grow up and realize your actions affect more than just you?” he asked. “You want your parents to treat you like an adult, but you’re acting like a frat boy. You’re twenty-nine. This behavior should have ended a long time ago.”

Vic shook his head. “I'm scum,” he replied. “None of you deserve to be stuck in the mud with me.”

Chase looked at him and nodded in agreement. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Well, for starters, I plan to stay as far away from Angela as possible.”

“Damn it, Vic! That goes without saying. What else will you do? You’re running out of time, and I have to tell ya, I'm a little leery about where Mya and I are headed because of your actions.”

Vic hung his head. “I'm realizing that. I know it's a little late, but I do understand. I want to fix this; I just don't completely know how.”

“You have to be on your best behavior. You have to exhibit an executive attitude. You cannot afford to screw up anymore. This has turned into a bigger shit-show than I could have ever imagined. I’m coming over to your place tonight to discuss this further,” he said as he exited the elevator. He didn’t bother to wait for Vic to follow.

Vic headed out to maintenance, where he met his prior boss with a melancholy look.

“I hate to say it, but I knew you'd be back,” said Burt.

“That makes one of us,” replied Vic. “I really thought I was in the clear once I returned to my original position within the company.”

“It can take time to make changes,” he stated plainly. “This time, you better make it count. Suit up, and head to six. Got a broken toilet for ya. I've been advised to keep you and Paris separate for the day, so I'm sending her to work on some paperwork for the department. Your father seemed to think she might need some space to cool down after whatever it is you did to land the two of you back in my domain.” He studied Vic, looking for an answer.

“I won’t let you down, Burt. I know you don’t want us here either,” he replied.

“For a white-collar boy, you do alright with us, but no, I don’t want you to stay here. You make people happy in other ways. It’s your gift.” He nodded with admiration.

Vic changed clothes and grabbed his tools. At least on the sixth floor, he wouldn’t have to deal with seeing Angela or Tom. No one from Sense of Adventure had much reason to go up to six. His day would be quiet and provide plenty of time to reflect on how to fix the mess he’d made.

When Paris checked in with Burt, she was happy to find she would be taking on some paperwork. She had no desire to clean bathrooms or fix broken toilets.

“You’ll be alright, dear,” said Burt. “I know you’re a bit torqued off by Vic’s actions, but I think he’ll turn it around. Try to be patient,” he said with kindness and understanding. Reaching out, he pulled her into a hug. “On a different note, try not to end up in medical this time around, will ya?” She’d earned a strong reputation as the clumsiest person to have ever worked in janitorial, because of her last stint there.

“I’ll do my best,” she replied, squeezing him harder. “Want to meet for lunch?”

“I’d love to,” smiled Burt. “Anything to have some quality time with my girl.”

“Okay, I’ll come find you at noon,” she replied, and headed for the office.

Paris hit her work hard. She sorted through and made sure each expense was recorded and filed properly. She updated the log for work completed throughout the building and even responded to work requests. Lunchtime arrived, and she was happy to take a break. She’d managed to focus all of her energy on work. Her mind never wandered to Vic, not even once.

“How’d it go?” asked her grandfather.

“Great,” she replied. “I’m much better at the record-keeping end of maintenance than I am at the actual labor.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” laughed Burt. “I think I prefer you in the office as well.”

“Where are we going for lunch?” she asked.

“Remember that little café downtown, the Purple Turkey? I believe I took you there one other time.”

“Yes, I recall it well,” she mused. “The last time we went there was to celebrate my move to my current position at Sense of Adventure, or rather the position I previously held before I messed everything up.” She shook her head in irritation at herself.

“Well, today we’re celebrating your return to that position.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked.

“Sweetheart, if there is one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re extremely determined when you set your mind on a goal.” He gently pat her shoulder. “I have faith, and so we’re going to celebrate.”

Paris wouldn’t object. After all that she’d been through over the past two years, she was pleased that someone in the family was still cheering her on. Her grandfather had always been there for her when she needed someone to say the right words and mean them.

After work, Vic trudged back to his and Paris’s apartment. He hadn’t seen her all day, but he remained unsurprised since he’d agreed to give her some space to think. Entering the apartment, he ripped off his clothing on the way to the bathroom, tossing the articles aside as he went. Turning the shower on, he paused a moment with his hand under the spray, waiting for it to warm. He needed to wash away the memory and feeling of the previous days.

Inside the shower, he silently broke down. It’d been years since he’d felt such emotion flow forth. He let go of the anger he felt toward himself, toward the company, toward Paris, and most of all, his cousin, for leaving him without his best friend. He stood under the hot water until he could no longer take the heat. Then, pulling himself together, he turned off the water and stepped out. Grabbing his towel from the hook at the back of the door, he wiped himself down and walked out of the bathroom, leaving the pain and sadness behind.

Dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt, Vic sat on the couch waiting for Chase to arrive. He turned on some classical jazz music and let his mind mellow. He knew Chase was angry, but he felt better prepared to deal with him and set things right. He’d nearly fallen asleep when he heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” called Vic.

Chase opened the door and marched into the living room, taking a seat on the chair. “I like the music,” he praised. “It’s relaxing.”

“Yeah,” replied Vic. “I figured death metal wasn’t the way to go tonight.”

“From what I recall, you don’t even like death metal,” smirked Chase. “Here,” he said, handing him a travel cup. “It’s a Chai Latté. I thought you could use something with a little caffeine, but not quite as strong as a beer during our chat.”

“Thanks, I think?” He wasn't much into tea, but he’d give it a whirl since Chase had done something nice.

Chase shook his head like a disappointed parent. “All I’m saying is we need to get serious about your situation. It’s time to stick the landing, as they say in gymnastics. You’re running out of time.”

Vic nodded in agreement. “Oh, believe me, I get that.”

“Do you, Vic? There was a point when I thought you did, but here we are again.”

“I understand. I realize how serious things have gotten. This feels like rock-bottom, and I’m ready to move forward. I’m continuing to see my shrink. I’m committing to the company, and I realized something else.”

Cocking his head, Chase asked, “What’s that?”

“You, Paris, and Mya have become my closest friends. You don’t deserve to be treated with such disrespect.”

Chase beamed at him. “Man, you know, I’ve been waiting for you to recognize that for some time now.”

“I’ve let the pain of losing Brody impede my life for much too long. He was family and my closest friend. I’ve told Paris several times we need to move forward and that they’d want us to, but I haven’t done so myself.”

“Sometimes, out of the ashes, new and beautiful things can be born. You need only be open to them,” added Chase.

“Dude,” said Vic. “This is sounding pretty sappy.”

“Brother, get used to it. There’s a new B.F.F. in town,” laughed Chase.

Vic rolled his eyes. “Come on, I’m starved. Let’s get some food and figure out what needs to happen in order for me to reach, and maintain, my proper place within the company.”

It was six o’clock when Molly dropped off the papers Dom requested she deliver to Tom’s office. When she had arrived, the door was closed, so she knocked, but no one answered. Bending down, she shoved the file under the door. As she went to smooth her skirt and blouse, she heard a loud, high-pitched laugh come from within the office.

Moving over, she stood to the side and waited. The common area had emptied, aside from a couple of janitors running around sweeping and collecting trash bins. Her pause had been brief, but the wait began to payout.

“Thank God I’m done with her,” she heard Tom’s voice say. “She’s a train wreck.”

“What about him? Just pathetic,” replied the female voice. “He’s had so many chances.”

“I don’t think there’s any way they can meet their deadline, do you?” asked Tom.

“I doubt it.”

Molly scooted over to hear better, but as she did, her purse swung around and hit the wall.

“Did you hear that?” asked Tom.

Molly didn’t wait to find out if they came looking for her. She darted for the elevators.

Tom opened the door to his office and stuck his head out. There was no one in sight. Bending down, he picked up the file folder lying on the floor. It was from Dom’s office. “Dom’s secretary,” commented Tom. He didn’t know Molly was friendly with Mya and Paris.

“Anyway, I think if we keep working at it, we could be running this company in a few years’ time,” said Angela.

“I hope you’re right, and we aren’t going through all this bullshit for a damn rumor.”

“I’m telling you; I heard Mikel talking to Dom about retirement and naming their successors. We’ve got this in the bag.”

Once Molly was safely out of sight, she pulled her cellphone from her purse and dialed Mya’s number. Mya picked up after the first ring.

“Hi, Molly, what’s up?”

“Oh, my gosh. I’m freaking out!” she erupted. “Dom had me deliver a file to Tom’s office, and when I got there, his door was shut. There was a woman inside talking with him about two messed-up people. Anyway, my purse fell as I moved and hit the wall. They totally heard me outside. I didn’t stick around to see if they would open the door. My heart is pounding out of my chest.”

“Dang. How long were you listening for?” asked Mya.

“Not long. I heard a woman’s laughter, which made me take pause. Who do you think the other person was?”

“Probably Angela. If I had to wager a guess, I’d say they were talking about Vic and Paris, but considering you weren’t there long, you may have heard things out of context. Monitor them. Maybe you’ll find an answer. It wouldn’t be surprising if they turned out to be the saboteurs.”

“I’ll find some time to further monitor over the next week. Maybe we’ll learn something else about the situation?” she said excitedly.

“Sounds good. Be careful.”

“Careful is my middle name,” replied Molly. “Though lately, I feel like it should be stalker.” She laughed.

Mya hung up the phone and contemplated what Molly had said. She was certain it had to be Angela behind the door. Angela was sketchy, to say the least. She didn’t understand how Vic could harp on Paris about Tom, then turn around and sleep with Angela. Men, she thought, tossing her phone back onto the counter.

Mya smiled. The day was over. She had made some popcorn and was just about to sit down when a knock sounded at her door. She wasn’t expecting anyone and hoped it was Paris. Forgetting to check her peephole, she swung the door open and was surprised to find Cristo on the other side.

“Cristo? What brings you here tonight. We didn't have plans, did we?” she asked.

“You, of course, and no,” he replied.

Looking him over, Mya realized he had once again been drinking. “Go home, Cristo. You're clearly inebriated. It’s Monday night. All I want to do is eat my popcorn and watch a movie.” She made a move to close the door on him, but he lurched forward and stuck his foot in the door jamb.

“I came all the way over here. Let me in!” he demanded.

“No! Go away!” she screeched.

Moving forward, Cristo shoved the door open with brute force, which made her step backward. Clearing the door, he slammed and bolted it behind him. “I want to continue our game,” he replied softly. Reaching out, he grabbed her by the wrist and jerked her toward him. Mya slapped him across the face. He didn't even flinch but shoved her onto the sofa and stood before her. “You want it rough tonight?”

Mya looked up at him in anticipation, waiting for his next move.

“Every day, you walk into the office looking beautiful and flirting with me. This has gone on for years now, and I think it’s time you admit your feelings. With no end in sight, I’m growing tired of this game. Don't you want to change things up?”

Mya stared back at him. She couldn’t seem to find her words. Now he wanted to talk?

“Answer me!” he barked. Walking away, he went to the kitchen and began looking through the cupboards until he found a bottle of whiskey. Grabbing a glass, he poured out two fingers. Picking up the bottle, he took a large swig and then returned to the living room. “Here,” he said, handing her the glass. “Drink that.”

Continuing to stare at him, she shook her head no. She didn’t want to drink it because she knew what would come after, and she was struggling with her composure. She didn’t want to give in to his demands, but she felt like she was losing the battle.

“Just drink it!” he boomed. “Sometimes your games are simply maddening,” he added. Getting up, he moved over and sat next to her on the couch. “I brought my friend with me,” he replied as he patted the gun inside his coat. “Don’t make me use it, okay? Unless it’s a turn-on to you.” He grinned. “Is it?”

“No,” lied Mya. She knew the gun wasn't real.

“Okay, I didn’t really think so.” He laughed and then tipped the bottle back to his lips. Wiping his mouth with his coat sleeve, he said, “Now, this is how things are going to go down. You’ll play nice and do as I say. We’ll spend an enjoyable evening together. We’re going to take our relationship to the next level because we’ve played enough games, don’t you think?” Refilling her glass, he handed it to her.

Mya kept one eye on him as she downed the liquid. Her hands were now shaking so badly she dropped the glass on the floor, and it broke into two large pieces. She was anxious. She didn't want the game to change. She had no idea what would happen, which was a scary thought.

Cristo stood, kicking the glass pieces toward the kitchen. Reaching down, he grabbed her hand and pulled her off the sofa. Unzipping his pants, he let them drop to the floor and kicked them aside as well.

“Turn around,” he requested. She didn’t move. “Please, turn around,” he said again. This time she turned away from him. “Take me to your bedroom so we can get more comfortable, okay, love?”

Mya led him out of the living room and down the hall. The whiskey was going to her head and making her feel numb. Once inside her room, she flipped on the bedside lamp and turned to look at him, but she didn’t utter a word.

“Make love to me,” he requested. “Let’s enjoy this night.”

“No,” she replied firmly. Cristo didn’t seem to notice the look of anger on her face.

“You don’t really mean that, Mya. I know you. We know each other. Stop playing games.” Walking toward her, he grabbed her blouse and began to unbutton it slowly. She trembled at his touch.

“I do mean it. No, I don’t want to have sex with you!”

“Fine,” he replied and took the gun out from under his coat. “If you really need the feel of fear to get excited, here you go,” he said as he laid the gun on the bed next to her. “If you need further encouragement, well, your prior indiscretions should be plenty, wouldn’t you say?” Pulling her blouse off, he dropped it next to the gun.

“You think this makes it okay?” she asked shakily.

“What makes it okay, Mya, is that we genuinely want each other. You can’t get enough of me, so I’m giving it all to you.” His voice held a sense of urgency.

“You’re wrong, Cristo. I don’t have the same feelings for you. This is sick and twisted!” she yelled.

“Damn it all, Mya,” he shrieked. Grabbing her wrist, he jerked her around, so she faced away from him, then ripped her skirt at the seam. Tossing the shredded fabric aside, he grabbed the back of her neck and forced her down on the bed. With his other hand, he fumbled with her red silk panties, and ripped them away as well.

Mya's nerves continued to make her tremble.

“Knock it off. This is a ridiculous game you’re playing,” Cristo growled. Reaching around to her front, he snaked his fingers up into her bra and squeezed her breast. “You feel so good to me. Let me show you how good I can feel to you.” Reaching down, he shoved his boxers aside. She could feel him pushed up against the back of her thigh. Mya attempted to move, but he firmly pressed her back down.

“Do whatever you want to me,” she panted.

Leaning forward, he plunged himself into her. Moving his hand from her neck, he held both of her wrists onto the bed as he moved against her.

Mya said nothing. She was no longer shaking. He continued to move until he could take it no longer and cried out in ecstasy. Pulling away, he slapped her on the butt and flopped down beside her. Rolling over, she pressed her mouth to his and drank him in.

“There’s my girl,” he said cheerfully. Reaching down, he worked his fingers over her as she continued to kiss him and then gave in to the waves as she reached her climax. “Damn, girl, you really know how to make a man work for it, you little sicko.” He laughed.

“Same time next week?” she requested.

“Hell, I’ve got nothing else going on,” replied Cristo. “Want to watch that movie now?”

“Yes, let's,” she said, then kissed him again. “The popcorn’s probably cold but should be okay. Oh, I should probably clean up that broken glass, and I doubt I have to say this, but you owe me a new skirt and panties.” Mya knew she hadn't escaped the conversation, but at least she’d bought herself a little more time to figure things out. The game would go on.

“Sure thing, kid, you know I’m good for it,” he replied coolly.

As the week continued, Paris heard not a peep from Tom. She didn’t understand how he could simply ignore her. She left voice messages, and he never returned the calls. It was becoming quite clear that she’d been ghosted. Perhaps Vic was right. Tom was playing her for some reason, but why, she couldn’t say.

Feeling sorry for her, Burt let Paris continue with the office work for the remainder of the week, so she wouldn’t have any more mishaps. Paris was grateful. She was certain that continuing on with maintenance would eventually kill her, with how clumsy she’d become.

Despite Vic’s decision to let Paris have a day, one day turned into four. It was now Friday morning. Vic had slipped into the office and left a note on Paris’s temporary desk, asking her to meet him at the apartment after work for dinner, wine, and a discussion. With the weekend coming, they needed to get themselves back on track before going up against the board again. Paris hoped that the current situation would improve. She, after all, had been on her best behavior. Her grandfather had commented that Vic was having a good week too, which was enough positivity for her to think things might be on the upswing.

At six o’clock, Paris marched into her and Vic’s apartment and kicked off her heels. Vic was in the bathroom showering, but Paris was hungry and didn’t want to wait for him to finish his evening routine. Creeping up to the door, she cracked it open. “Vic,” she called out, “what do you want for dinner?”

“Oh, holy crap!” he yelped. Sliding around the shower, his wet feet squeaked as he tried to gain his footing. “Paris! You scared me half-to-death!”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to freak you out. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll live,” replied Vic, his heart pounding. “What was the question?”

“What do you want for dinner?” she asked again.

“Order a pizza. I’m not in the mood to cook tonight. Been a long week.” He sighed.

“Okay, I’ll order a Margherita, if that works for you?”

“Can we add sausage to it?”

“It’s not really a Margherita then, but sure,” she gave in and wandered off to place the order.

Vic turned off the water and climbed out of the shower. Reaching for his towel, he pulled it from the hook on the back of the door and ran it over his body. Brushing his fingers through his hair, he let the water spray off his fingertips. Paris hated it because he sprayed water everywhere, including the mirror, but it was the key to maintaining his short, wavy hairstyle. Well, that and the conditioner he used religiously. Towel drying had a tendency to cause frizz, and he hated frizz.

Turning toward the door, he cracked it to allow better airflow, then ran his towel across the mirror so he could see his reflection while shaving. After a week of fixing clogged and broken toilets, he wanted to feel clean and, as his mother would say, proper.

When he’d finished, he wiped the excess cream from his face and patted on some aftershave. Peering back at his reflection, he felt like himself again. “You’re a handsome devil,” he said with a grin. “Now, let’s see if you can win over that hot-blooded woman in the other room.”

In the living room, Paris was lying on the couch listening to the radio. She didn’t want to feel or think about anything. She was tired. Tired of the craziness of her life. She wanted normal. She had to discuss normal with Vic, and she didn’t know how to begin.

“Hey,” said Vic. “Did you order food?” He had dressed in sweatpants and a black tank.

“Yeah, it should be here in about fifteen to twenty minutes, I think. You’re looking comfortable,” Paris mused.

“Hey, you aren’t the only person who likes to be comfortable and relax on a Friday night. Should I have put on denim and a polo for you this evening?” he asked with an inquisitive look.

“No,” laughed Paris. “It surprised me, that’s all. You only wear sweats and a tank when you’re going out for a run.”

Vic headed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine and a corkscrew. Opening the bottle, he never took his eyes off her. She wore a pair of Mya’s little black terry cloth shorts and a plain red tank. She looked beautiful, even when she dressed down. “Would you like some wine?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” she replied. “How was your week?”

“I do believe it was what one would call ‘uneventful,’ in that nothing improper happened.”

Straightening herself into a seated position, she nodded and said, “That’s great. Do you think we’ll be moving up this week?”

“Undoubtedly,” he replied, handing her a glass of Zinfandel. Clanking the lip of her glass with his, he said, “To moving up and staying up.”

“Yes!” she agreed. Paris could not handle any further letdowns. “Are you prepared to make permanent changes?”

Vic sat down next to her on the couch and took her in for a moment longer. “Yes.”

She knew this might be a difficult subject for him, so she proceeded with caution. “I know we agreed to work together, but then things got a little complicated. We need to put our differences aside. I’m not sure what your goals are, but I intend to continue to stay away from pills and stealing. I want to take back my position as head of charity event planning. I’m willing to put the past to bed and move on with my life. Do you have a similar plan?”

“I hear ya. I’ve been seeing a shrink.” He watched as Paris’s eyes widened and her mouth parted. “I know, right? The big bad Vic isn’t so big or bad after all.”

Shaking her head, she said, “Seeing a shrink doesn’t mean you’re any less of a man.”

“I know,” he replied. “That was the first lesson I learned. Beyond the shrink, I too want

us to work together. I’m done sleeping with—how did you put it? Ah, yes. Anything that walks. I want to establish a meaningful relationship with a single woman at some point and also improve the relationships I have with family and coworkers. Apparently, I do have a bit of a hot temper. Something else I’m working on with my shrink. Also, no more sex in the office or walking into apartments uninvited. You should probably agree to that last one as well,” he said, winking.

“Yes, yes, I agree to not enter anyone else's apartment without an invitation. By the way,

Tom has stopped speaking to me. I haven’t heard from him all week, so you’re probably right about him.”

“That gives me no pleasure,” Vic replied.

“It is what it is, I guess? What do you suggest we do to deal with our issues with each other?”

“That depends on how you answer the next question. Do you feel our problems stem completely from us sleeping together?”

“Yeah,” she said, her eyes dropping to the floor. “We probably should have determined whether it was a one-time thing or something more. Do we have actual feelings for each other? Or are we using each other as a release because of our common situation? Questions that should be answered when two people as closely involved as us begin dabbling in extracurriculars.”

“Dang, girl, you’re making this into something bigger than it needs to be. This isn't a business transaction.”

“Am I? Tell me, what did that night mean to you?”

“It was exciting.” He grinned mischievously. “You’re an attractive woman, and we connected. I never thought about the next step, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she retorted. Before she had a chance to say more, the buzzer for the main door sounded, letting them know their dinner had arrived. Paris downed the last two swigs of her wine. Vic’s glass was already empty. “Here, give me your glass. I’ll pour more wine if you go down to the lobby and retrieve our pizza.”

“Deal,” he replied. He needed a moment away from her to consider the questions she had posed, as well as her irritated response. What did Paris want? He contemplated the situation the entire walk down to the lobby and back. He knew he felt something more for her than what he felt toward previous casual partners, but neither of them had admitted what they were looking for. He struggled to put his feelings into words he could express out loud.

“Great timing,” said Paris as he walked back into the apartment. “Mom called to say the board will meet with us at eight Monday morning instead of seven.

“Nice. Sounds like we can sleep in a little. That’s probably good since it might take us all weekend to analyze our relationship,” he joked.

“Let’s just call it a simple one-night thing and move on,” said Paris. “Don’t you think?”

“Sure,” replied Vic. He’d been caught off guard by her sudden interpretation of what the night had meant. She basically chalked it up to nothing, but were they really the type of people who could call it nothing when such a large history existed between them?

Taking his seat on the couch, he grabbed a slice of pizza and handed it to Paris, who in turn handed him a plate. He watched her as she daintily chewed her food. He couldn’t help but feel something as he watched. He didn’t think it was the type of feeling that one felt toward a one-night-stand. Grabbing her wrist, he moved her hand to release the pizza back onto her plate, and then pulling her to him, he planted a deep, urgent kiss on her lips. She kissed him back and, just like the night at the cabin, one thing led to another.