THIS IS MIAMI
Juliet smiled as she looked out the window of the first class seat she sat in on her flight to Miami. If anyone had asked her ten years ago if she'd ever see herself flying first class--or even flying at all--she would have said it was impossible.
Now Juliet didn't like to fly anything other than first class. It wasn't because she was a snob or because she liked to flaunt her wealth. Simply put, she liked the perks. And since she really only traveled for business, the perks were conducive to her traveling. First class was quieter, so she could get more work done. She had the potential to rub elbows with other professionals that sat around her since most of the first class flyers she'd flown with were businesspeople. First to board, first to get off the plane were most definitely convenient, and the leg room and desk space were amazing. Add in the lower risk of feeling turbulence and free-flowing wine and sometimes the plane ride was the best part of the business trip.
For this trip, though, the best part was stepping out of the airport and into the seventy-five degree Miami weather. Juliet smiled, breathing in the warmth as a black, stretch limousine pulled up to the curb beside her. Switching her suitcase to the other hand, she shook the hair off of her shoulder and watched the driver get out and circle the front of the vehicle. "Juliet Carson?" He inquired, adjusting his suit collar.
"Um, yes," she smiled. "I am."
"I was told to expect a woman of impeccable beauty. I wasn't expecting a woman who exceeded that."
"Oh," Juliet blushed, tucking her dark, thick waves behind her ear. "Thank you, you're much too kind."
"May I?" He asked, motioning for her suitcase.
"Yes. Please."
Giovanni was Amir Almasi's personal chauffeur, who was sent to drive Juliet to Almasi Resort and Spa, one of the many beachfront resorts that Mr. Almasi owned. Juliet was excited. She'd researched this hotel, one of many, to try to get a feel of Mr. Almasi's style before she began her proposal for his new one. This particular one was her favorite, though. Located on Collins Avenue, locally known as Millionaire's Row, the resort boasted an enormous crystal chandelier that hung in the middle of the lobby that Juliet was chomping at the bit to see live and in person. The floors beneath it were of the finest marble, painted with intricate designs, hinting at Mr. Almasi's Middle Eastern heritage. The balcony railings were wrought iron, the ceilings cathedral-style, and the furniture red and trendy.
Juliet's heart stopped as she remembered the cathedral ceilings and she was immediately reminded of the cathedral ceiling in Eric's living room. It was warm and brown and made with the blood, sweat, and love of his own two hands. That was what made it the most beautiful piece of architecture she had ever seen. God. It was startling how much she missed that ceiling. Or maybe what she was really missing was the way she used to sit, curled up with Eric on his couch, listening with awe as he described to her for the millionth time the exact process that he'd used for putting in the ceiling. It was her favorite story and she never grew tired of hearing it and he was gracious enough to pretend that he wasn't tired of telling it.
"Here we are," Giovanni announced from the front, interrupting Juliet's reminiscing. "Almasi Resort and Spa. The most luxurious resort in Miami."
The outside of the resort was what Juliet liked to call "standard issue." Tall, rectangular, more stories than you could count on your fingers and toes. The landscaping was nice, a series of shrubs and palm trees surrounding it. It was after dark when the limo pulled up, so she supposed she'd have to wait until the morning to get a look at the detailed architecture. She wished she'd brought Beth along, or even Sven, but it was so close to Thanksgiving and everyone had been busy.
Everyone but Juliet, that was. The story of her life.
She didn't see her suitcase until she got to her room. The hotel staff had done everything but roll out the red carpet for her the moment she stepped out of the limo. She'd been whisked away to her room so quickly that she hardly had a moment to stop and appreciate the lobby that she'd looked so forward to seeing. That would be another thing that could wait until morning, she determined.
Once she was in her room--a large junior suite that overlooked the ocean--a short man in a suit walked in as the bellhop walked out. Blinking at him and sensing the nervousness in his dark eyes, she watched him clasp his hands together in front of him and raise his eyebrows. "Well, then. I'm Malik and I am Mr. Almasi's personal assistant. I trust your travel was well?"
"Um, yes," she replied hesitantly. "It was...I mean, it was travel."
Malik smiled and nodded. "Of course. Well, welcome to the junior suite. It has state-of-the-art electronics and appliances, top-of-the-line mattresses and linens, and sheets made of the finest Egyptian cotton. The bathtub is a Jacuzzi tub with the best jets on the market, and you have complete and total access to all of the recreations and amenities that the resort has to offer."
"Well, thank you," she smiled. "I'm sure I won't be needing--"
"On your bedside table, there, is your itinerary for tomorrow. Mr. Almasi wishes to give you a personal tour of his current Miami resorts so that you may get an idea of his vision. At one o'clock is lunch at Almasi Grand, and dinner will be promptly at eight at Almasi Royale, followed by drinks here at Almasi Resort and Spa."
"Wow," Juliet muttered under her breath. "Hope he squeezed in a meeting somewhere in there."
"Meeting times will be at Mr. Almasi's discretion."
"Right," she whispered with a sheepish nod.
Then he pulled a card from his suit pocket and extended it to her. "I hope you rest well tonight. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me. All hours of the night, whatever you need."
"Thank you," she barely got out of her mouth before he walked briskly out the door.
"I'll be here. All hours of the night, all hours of the day."
That was what Eric had said to her. And now she looked around her suite, at the floor-to-ceiling window, whose curtains hung wide open, and at the king-sized bed that she just knew she would sink into when she crawled into it, and her heart hurt. What if Eric were there? They'd turn out the lights, stand at the window and gaze at the ocean waves that rolled under the moonlight. Then they'd go to bed and make love until morning, using every inch of the bed, losing themselves in the covers and in each other. Was she making the right decision, distancing herself from him? In theory, it made sense. But her heart cried out in agony.
Angrily, angry at herself for being who she was, she jerked the curtains closed and made a bed on the sofa in the adjoining room. There would be no lonely bed and no lonely windows tonight.
**********
The morning, however, brought sunshine. Juliet was a morning person--unless she was in bed with Eric, tangled up with his body, and then she had no problem spending all day in bed. This morning, she'd made it a point to be up before dawn, dressed in jeans and a sweater, curled up on a hotel-issued lounge chair in the sand, enjoying the sunrise over the ocean, a hot cup of coffee in her hand. She smiled as she breathed in the salt in the fresh morning air, and she didn't know what warmed her bones more--the sun finally rising over the earth, or the way the resort's impeccable wait staff made sure her coffee never cooled off.
By the time the sun turned into a golden pendant over the ocean, the beautiful turquoise of the water began to reveal itself. Juliet longed for it to be warm enough to slip on her swimsuit and make herself a part of it, but it simply wasn't an option this time around. So, instead, she snapped a photo with her phone and sent it to Beth with the caption, "Wish you were here."
And then she rested her head against the chair and shamelessly dreamed of Eric in a pair of swim trunks. He'd have the time of his life in that water, a smile on his face, a boyish gleam in his eye. She could see him playing with their son or daughter in the water, teaching them to jump waves or look for shells or allowing them bury him in the sand. They'd be happy, their entire little family. Eric was quite literally the light in her life and she longed for the day she could finally reach it.
However, she'd actually have to be able to have children in order for that fantasy to come true. And she would have to be of sound mind and he would have to take her back. So she shook it out of her mind in favor of anticipating the day's coming activities since it was, after all, only a fantasy. Juliet had to stop letting this happen. She had to stop thinking about him. She had to stop allowing herself to get sidetracked by him all the time. He was a distraction and she had to focus on her work. After all, this trip was one of the most important trips of her entire career.
**********
Amir Almasi's accent was light, reflective of his many years as an American citizen. Juliet sat in the limousine across from Mr. Almasi, having ignored the white-after-Labor Day rule in favor of a white pants suit that made her feel like she fit in in Miami. She'd pulled her hair back in a low, loose ponytail that draped over her shoulder, and she smiled as she listened to the many reasons he had chosen to leave Pakistan behind in order to chase the American dream. Over...and over...and over again.
Mr. Almasi was easily in his fifties, standing just a couple of inches shorter than her in her heels, slightly portly, with a head full of salt and pepper hair. He wore a tailored Armani that easily cost more than a month or two of her rent, and his cologne smelled strong of sweet spice. He talked a mile a minute, frequently wiping his head with his handkerchief, and he'd repeatedly offered her champagne, which she repeatedly turned down.
Juliet's head spun by the time lunch rolled around. They had seen two hotels so far, from top to bottom, and by the second one, Juliet had silently decided that she didn't need to see any more. His vision was not a hard one to grasp, as the similarities between the various hotels were painfully apparent. She took solace in the knowledge that she didn't have to make any changes in her proposal, and had reached for her briefcase several times during lunch, only to be thwarted by a new story about how he'd made his fortune.
Mr. Almasi was kind. He was nice and he was gracious and he was polite. But holy shit, could the man talk.
After she had been all over Miami, staring at the beaches in longing while she'd lost interest in Mr. Almasi's conversation a long time ago, she was finally afforded a break, as they had a few hours to themselves before dinner. She couldn't resist taking the opportunity to slip on a pair of shorts and take a glass of wine down to the beach to lounge in a chair under the warm sun. The silky, white sand felt magnificent between her toes and the breeze enveloped her, sending delightful goose bumps up her arms. The truth was, she didn't want to move. As badly as she wanted this deal, she was content to spend the rest of the evening in that very spot.
Sadly, however, it was time to get ready for dinner and, when she reached her room, she was greeted by a long, rectangular box laying on her bed, wrapped in a bow and accompanied by a note from Mr. Almasi. She widened her eyes and arched an eyebrow in complete bewilderment as she lifted the red, slinky number out of the box. This was still a business trip, right? Was she not trying to close a deal, design a hotel, make a client out of Amir Almasi?
Juliet sighed. Yes. Yes, she was. And sometimes it was all about closing the deal--especially a dream deal. So she turned her nose up in disgust, lay the dress across the chair in preparation to put it on, and headed for the shower.
She thanked her lucky stars that she had also brought her black pants suit along with her white one, because as soon as she shimmied her way into the form-fitting, spaghetti-strapped, cocktail dress, she did not feel like she was dressed appropriately for a business dinner. She slid on her black blazer and her black stilettos and felt much better. Mr. Almasi would have to deal with it, she thought to herself, as she buttoned the blazer shut. She wore the dress, what more did he want?
By the time she walked into Mira, the premiere restaurant located on the bottom floor of Almasi Royale, Juliet had had her fair share of hotels and didn't even blink twice at any of the architecture. She was tired. She was aggravated that they had yet to discuss any hotel plans, and if he wanted to postpone any meetings until tomorrow, she could be happily watching TV in her room right now, skipping out on room service, and having a sloppy, cheap pizza delivered. With as exhausted as she'd suddenly found herself, that was a night that sounded like heaven.
Mr. Almasi had apparently had another appointment that afternoon, so she met him at dinner. Mira was a trendy, upscale restaurant with dimly-lit chandeliers, burgundy carpets that nearly matched her dress, and cozy booths at every turn and corner. She was led to one of these booths, after climbing a set of free-standing stairs, that was located in the back corner of the second floor. Gripping her briefcase, she set her shoulders back and confidently greeted Mr. Almasi, fighting to hide her dismay at the fact that it appeared that no one else would be joining them for dinner. No contractors? No architects, no attorneys, no assistant? No one? Maybe Mr. Almasi was a man who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it and didn't need such assistance to close a deal. After all, Juliet could relate. She'd closed many a deal on her own like that.
The booth sat in a corner, a high-backed semi-circle with leather upholstery and a large, round table. Juliet sat a safe distance away, across candlelight that was a common centerpiece around the room and a bottle of wine and two glasses that awaited them. Juliet accepted the wine that Mr. Almasi offered and poured for her and sipped it graciously as he poured his own glass. Finally, he rested his elbows on the table and smiled, nodding toward her. "I see you enjoyed your gift."
Juliet smiled in embarrassment, the heat rising to her cheeks. "It's a lovely dress, thank you, but it really wasn't necessary--"
"I had hoped to see it on you," he replied boldly. "I did my best to find the perfect size. Does it not fit? Is that why you wear the jacket?"
"Oh," she smiled, looking down at her blazer. "It fits just perfectly, thank you. It's just--well, the air has gotten a little nippy since the sun has gone down and I'm, um...I'm very cold-natured. The blazer is so I won't freeze to death tonight."
Mr. Almasi smiled politely and pointed to her wine glass. "Plenty of wine will warm you up, yes?"
"It's definitely possible," she agreed with a laugh, appreciating the fact that he had seemingly bought her story. Then, in a desperate attempt to turn the conversation from the dress to business, she continued, "Thank you so much for meeting me, Mr. Almasi--"
"Please. Call me Amir. And I may call you...Juliet?"
"Absolutely," she smiled. "Believe it or not, this is my first trip to Miami and I must say I'm enjoying it. It's a beautiful city."
"And beautiful beaches, no?"
"Gorgeous beaches," she chuckled warmly. "I can't seem to keep off the sand today."
Mr. Almasi smiled. "And what did you think of my...sprawling resorts?"
Juliet had turned up her wine and now swallowed so that she could answer. "Magnificent," she spat out. "They're gorgeous, I've never seen anything like them. You have quite a vision, I must say. And speaking of vision, I've been carrying around this proposal all day, excited to show it to you--"
He waved her off. "Later. I don't conduct business on an empty stomach." Then he picked up his menu and scanned it. "The food here is marvelous. We serve the rarest of delicacies imported directly from the countries they originate from. What would you like to try? You may try one, you may try them all, anything you want."
Juliet desperately scoured her menu for any kind of chicken or steak or fish. She was afraid to know what types of delicacies he spoke of and the red-blooded New Yorker that she was was elated to find a normal steak plate on the menu and ordered it. Mr. Almasi barely made an effort to hide his disappointment, ordering something that she knew she could never pronounce, and she was happy that her side of the table was going to be normal, American, and delicacy-free.
During dinner, Juliet ate like it was going out of style. She ate to stave off conversation. She ate so that she could get through with dinner and talk business. She ate so that she could close the deal and get back to her room.
Mr. Almasi was a slow eater. He took small bites and he savored his food and he had a story for the first time he tried everything on his plate. She learned about the foods' origins, how they were raised or grown or prepared, the importation and preservation processes, and how much money it cost him to do it all. "But it's no matter," he kept saying. "Money is just money, am I right?"
Sure. Money was just money. Juliet did extremely well for herself, but this particular Miami resort and the potential for more of Mr. Almasi's future business would fatten Carson Innovations' wallet to the point that Juliet's head spun. Not to mention the publicity among other developers in the area. She found herself momentarily drifting off into a daydream of all of Miami's beachfront hotels and resorts all designed by her and her company. She could rule the world.
She must have been smiling amidst her trance, because Mr. Almasi's voice interrupted her thoughts and he returned her smile. "Your dinner is delicious, yes?"
"Oh, yes," she smiled, snapping out of it. "It is, thank you. This is quite a restaurant. You know, my company, Carson Innovations, designed a couple of restaurants in Manhattan, both inside and out--"
"Did you save room for dessert?" He asked. A devious smile crossed his lips. "The chocolate is absolutely sinful."
"Oh, Amir," she blushed playfully. "You had me at chocolate. But, if you don't mind, I'm going to need a few minutes to digest dinner before I can have dessert. In the meantime, I've brought my proposal along for you to see. After seeing your impressive resorts today, I'm proud to say that I think I've captured your vision exceptionally well."
At that, Mr. Almasi scooted across the leather seat, around the table, and to her side, his body turned toward hers. She was delighted at his interest in her design and she eagerly reached over the table and began moving dishes and glasses out of the way and wiping the area with her napkin so that she could lay her plans out on the table for him. She'd gotten so far as to reach for her briefcase, which lay on the seat on the other side of her, when her blazer button popped open and she gasped at Mr. Almasi's hand casually lingering where the garment was once secured around her body.
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the shock and, just as casually as it was routine, he ran his fingers along the collar of her blazer, opening it up and revealing the dress underneath. He smiled at her, ignoring her disturbed expression. "It's warm in here, no?"
"No," she breathed, shaking her head. "It isn't, that's why I wore..."
"Wow," he breathed, unable to take his eyes off of her chest. The dress had squeezed her breasts together nearly uncomfortably and the neckline was questionable, which was all the more reason for closing up the blazer. Now she nearly spilled out in front of her potential client, who wasn't feeling very much like a client anymore. She couldn't decide whether she was humiliated or offended. Or both. "The dress is perfect. I did well."
Juliet had no idea how to respond. Normally, she was dangerously quick-witted, but right now she was so put off and uncomfortable that she couldn't even form words.
From there, it only grew worse. Amir Almasi was a confident man. A multi-billionaire who always got what he wanted, no matter what it was or who it was from. In Amir Almasi's world, money talked and it was gospel.
In Juliet's world, however, her pride was worth much more than money. In fact, her pride was priceless. And the shock and the horror she was feeling right then was rendering her speechless and said pride was taking a blow because of it. Come on, Juliet! Get it together! This man is harassing you!
His hand dropped to her leg, hot, clammy, and disgusting. He ran it upward, dangerously flirting with the seam of her dress. "You like sex, yes?"
"Um," she trembled, the sweat breaking out across her forehead all of a sudden. This wasn't how she did business. This wasn't how she did business. "There's a time and a place..." she stammered slowly.
Mr. Almasi smiled again, his hand creeping. "This is the perfect time and the perfect place, wouldn't you agree? I have a penthouse on the top floor. You can drink as much French champagne as you'd like. Do you like pornography? Pornography is an art form. We can watch, if you like, while we drink the champagne--"
"Mr. Almasi!" She finally scolded, batting his hand away and scooting herself away from him. "Sadly, I believe you've gotten the wrong idea."
He followed her, his smile never leaving his face. "Actually, I don't believe I have." His hand trailed back to her blazer collar and then his fingers suddenly hooked into the top of her dress, right against her left breast. She felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "You are so much sexier than the internet let on, Juliet."
Jerking his hand out of her dress and pushing it away, she hugged her blazer tightly around her and scooted away again. She was on the verge of tears, her intuition telling her exactly what she was afraid was coming next.
"You're very persistent, Juliet, what with your little Carson Innovations and all. I don't conduct business deals without a little research, you see. So I researched you online and what I found was...well, it made my dick hard, I'm not going to lie to you. The truth, Juliet, is that I invited you here because I knew this business deal would...thrill me. You've spoken all day long about this proposal of yours, but there is one proposal and one proposal only for this deal. It's quite simple. I take you upstairs to my penthouse, I lick champagne off of your pussy, and you show me the time of my life while I watch two beautiful women fuck each other on my eighty-inch screen. Once we've fucked and you've gotten me off, you can have your little hotel deal. It doesn't matter to me. This is Miami. It'll make me millions even if it's a little roach motel. You see, Miss Carson, I've done my homework. I know you'll fuck anyone, anywhere, it's no secret. So, then, what am I to you, but a simple notch on your bedpost, hm? You get your deal, I get to have my way with the notorious Juliet Carson, and we both go home happy. It's a win-win. So what do you say? We skip dessert and go straight upstairs?"
"No!" She shot out, the reply coming out somewhere between a gasp and a squeak. She was fighting off tears, vowing to never let him see her cry. How dare he? How dare he get her hopes up and waste her time, only to bring her all the way down to Miami to treat her like a prostitute? He'd never had any intention of doing any business with her at all. This entire trip, from her room to the tour today, every single bit of it had been a game of seduction. He'd been trying to impress her and now he thought he was sealing the deal. But she had news for him. He had another thing coming.
"How dare you be so offensive? You can't believe everything you read on the internet, Mr. Almasi. I do enjoy sex, that is the truth. But I also have standards and ethics. I am a professional. I don't mix business and pleasure and I certainly have standards when it comes to sexual partners and, you, Mr. Almasi, do not fit that mold. I don't care how rich you are. I'd fuck your bellhop before I'd fuck you. How dare you drag me all the way down here for this sick game of yours? Is this the only way you can get laid? By tricking women into...?"
Her voice trailed off when a vision of Eric suddenly popped into her mind. They were laughing. "I promise this isn't the only way I can get dates," he'd grinned.
And then the threat of tears was unrelenting and in that moment, she wanted nothing in this world but Eric Reynolds. She scooped up her briefcase and slid out of the booth, hurriedly making her way down the stairs and out of the restaurant before the tears steadily streamed down her face.
____________________________
It had been three days since Eric had heard from Juliet. He wasn't sure what he expected. They'd practically said goodbye to each other, she admitted she cared about him and that she was getting help, what more did he want?
He wanted her. It was always her.
Wednesday night he had found himself in bed relatively earlier than normal and, for what felt like the first time in weeks, he slept. He'd finally come to terms with the fact that he was a hopeless mess and he had to accept the way things were now. He had to give her space and let her do what she needed to do and he...needed to get his act together.
So he'd spent those three days trying to get his life back. On Tuesday, Reynolds Construction had broken ground on a new project and that kept Eric relatively occupied at work. Afterward, he was in the gym every night and he even went to dinner with the guys. Nobody had brought up Juliet and he didn't bring her up, either. He was glad for it. In a way, he understood that he needed to distance himself from her. He needed to take in a breath and start fresh just like she was. When she was ready to start over with him, he would need to be strong and stable enough for her to lean on. He had to wear the pants in the relationship. He had to be her man. And that, admittedly, started with being his own man.
By Wednesday evening, the exhaustion caught up with him. There was a complication with the new project at work that day and he ended up spending the majority of the day on the worksite with Travis. He'd hit the gym hard to work out his frustrations that night and, by the time he finally made it home, he was ready to pass out. He'd spent an hour or two sitting up in bed in his glasses, reviewing a proposal he was putting together for yet another project, contrary to his general beliefs of appropriate work hours. He loved his eight-to-five schedule. He swore by it. But now he was beginning to see what Juliet saw in "homework."
Eric had been asleep for a couple of hours, at least. He honestly didn't know and as he picked up his ringing phone, he tried to do the math but had no idea what time he'd actually fallen asleep. It didn't matter, though. It was Juliet and it was late and his heart immediately pounded with alarm.
"Hey," he answered sleepily. "How, uh, how are you? Is everything okay?"
She was silent at first before he heard her take a staggered breath. "You said--um you said I could call you...whenever...if I needed to talk."
"Yeah," he replied gently, rubbing his eyes into the darkness. "Yeah, I'm here."
"I don't want to...you know, lead you on, I just--"
"I don't feel that way at all. I'm actually, uh, I'm really glad you called."
"I'm sorry I woke you up," she said quietly. "You should--you need your rest. I can call another time."
Her voice was like an angel whispering in his ear. He was comforted and he was warm and he closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the way it felt to be cared about by her.
Then he opened his eyes. "Juliet. Stop trying to take care of me. This is about you."
"I'm-I'm not, I--"
He smiled into the air. "You rant about my cholesterol. You offer me imaginary medicine for a freak stomach bug. You seem to think I need rest twenty-four seven--"
"You don't sleep enough. I know you don't."
"You sleep less than I do."
"Unless I'm next to you. Then I sleep through the night."
"Me, too."
"Eric, I'm--I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--I just--Eric..."
"It's okay," he said softly.
"No, it isn't." Her voice cracked with a squeak and she sniffed loudly. "I promised that I wouldn't burden you with my problems."
Now alarmed, Eric sat up in his bed. "You don't burden me enough," he argued. "That's what I'm here for, Juliet. You can trust me."
There was silence for a moment before he heard her staggered breath in the phone. "I'm in Florida right now. Miami. The weather is unusually warm, the ocean is beautiful and blue, and the beach scent of the breeze is intoxicating. I'm literally in paradise. But I'm sitting...in a hotel with cathedral ceilings in the lobby and floor-to-ceiling windows in my room and I'm just...missing you so much." Her voice finally gave way to the tears and she sobbed quietly into the phone.
Listening to her cry tore him apart. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath. "I miss you, too."
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Don't apologize."
"I shouldn't have called."
"Don't you dare hang up that phone. I told you I wasn't going anywhere. Whatever you need, all hours of the day. I meant it."
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Eric listened as Juliet sniffed and breathed in an effort to collect herself before she spoke again. "I came here to propose a design for a new resort. I was personally invited by the owner. He put me up in one of his resorts, I thought--I thought this was it, you know? I've been chasing this account for so long and I thought that by getting this invitation that I'd pretty much nailed it. We went out for dinner tonight and it occurred to me that all we'd done all day was look at his various resorts. He hadn't even seen my design. So I came prepared. Except that--except--" She paused to take a breath, fighting to keep her composure. "Except that he Googled me, Eric. Before he even called me, he'd Googled me. He ran his hand up my leg and told me that the account was mine as long as I slept with him. As long as I fucked him, Eric. Because he said the reason he invited me to Miami was because he'd knew I'd make for...an interesting business deal." Then the sobs came. "He never even wanted to look at my work. He doesn't even care about my work, he thought--oh, Eric. I feel so dirty and cheap. Like a prostitute."
And then she broke down again.
Eric was thrown into a violent rage. Tossing the bed's covers off of him, he marched out of his bedroom and to the kitchen where his laptop was. "I'll kill him," he spat. "What hotel are you in?"
"Eric, that's not--you don't have to--"
"I'm looking at flights right now, I could be there in the morning. Just tell me where you are."
"Please don't. You don't have to do this, it's not worth it--"
"You are worth everything," he replied through gritted teeth. "I can't go back and fix the things that happened to you, but I can sure as hell fix this."
"There's nothing to fix. I'm coming home tomorrow, the deal's off."
"Come home to me, then," he breathed without thinking. "What time does your flight come in, I'll pick you up."
"Eric," she whispered. "You said I could call if I needed to talk. You said you wouldn't feel led on and I'm not meaning to. I shouldn't have been so personal. I should have kept my missing you to myself."
"At this point I'll take you any way I can get you. I'm at your mercy."
"Why, Eric?"
"Because you make me a better man. When you smile, when you need me--I become the man I always wanted to be. And that only happens when I'm with you. When you reach over and you take my hand...I can conquer the world."
"Eric..."
"It's the truth. I'm not trying to put pressure on you, but I'm not going to apologize for the way I feel, either."
"I don't--I don't want to apologize for the way I feel, either."
"Then don't."
"But I'm sorry for--for putting you through this. I'm sorry for being me."
"No," he whispered, reluctantly abandoning his laptop and pulling out a dining chair from under the table instead. He sat down, running a hand through his hair and resting his elbows on his knees. "Baby, no," he whispered again. "I wish you could see what I see. Or even what Beth sees. You've been through hell and you've walked through fire, but did you burn? No. You rose above it. Your heart is gold, your soul is--it's good. You have to remember, Juliet, you did nothing wrong. Nothing. What you went through wasn't your fault. And this is your time now. It's your time to finally stand in front of it and face it and slay it and finally stop letting it define you. Don't you know how beautiful you are? And I haven't even started on your outer beauty, yet."
"I can't believe you see so much in me," she whispered.
He shook his head and scoffed. "The feeling's mutual."
"You're a good man. Too good. Sometimes I forget you're twenty-seven--"
"Here we go with this again."
"I mean it. I've never been able to look a man in the face before and tell him that I care for him. You were put into my life for a reason, I truly believe that. But the timing..."
"Is more perfect than you think."
"I wish that were the case."
He let out a breath and hung his head before a new thought crossed his mind. A thought he knew had always been there but he'd always pushed back because he didn't want to consider it a possibility. "Juliet? Do you resent me?"
"No!" She gasped. "No, not ever! What for?"
"I'm not--I'm not encouraging you to keep everything bottled in, by any means, but--well, you said I was the first person you ever told. And ever since then it feels like it's been...like Pandora's box."
"It's tough. And it's painful. And I have nightmares and memories that are randomly triggered but, the truth is, I think it's supposed to happen this way. So I can face it. How can I resent you when, ultimately, you're my salvation?"
"Jules," he breathed.
"Why else were you put into my life? I was meant to look into your eyes and melt into your arms and trust you and...and face it. Because of you."
"I need you, Juliet," he replied, his voice nearly giving in to his tears. "I need you so much. My world is so empty without you."
"You don't need this damaged version of me. I'm going to do this. I'm going to therapy. You deserve better. I'm going to be better."
"You're perfect now."
"I have to go. I have an early flight tomorrow. Eric...please don't give up on me."
"Don't leave me."
"That isn't my intention. I just need this time."
"Are you going to be okay? After tonight, I mean."
"Yeah," she whispered. "Talking to you made me feel better."
Eric was glad Juliet felt better. Making her happy was what he wanted, it was quickly becoming his ultimate life goal. But then...how did talking to her make him feel?
Confused. Alone. Desperate. Everything but complete and total comfort.
Juliet smiled as she looked out the window of the first class seat she sat in on her flight to Miami. If anyone had asked her ten years ago if she'd ever see herself flying first class--or even flying at all--she would have said it was impossible.
Now Juliet didn't like to fly anything other than first class. It wasn't because she was a snob or because she liked to flaunt her wealth. Simply put, she liked the perks. And since she really only traveled for business, the perks were conducive to her traveling. First class was quieter, so she could get more work done. She had the potential to rub elbows with other professionals that sat around her since most of the first class flyers she'd flown with were businesspeople. First to board, first to get off the plane were most definitely convenient, and the leg room and desk space were amazing. Add in the lower risk of feeling turbulence and free-flowing wine and sometimes the plane ride was the best part of the business trip.
For this trip, though, the best part was stepping out of the airport and into the seventy-five degree Miami weather. Juliet smiled, breathing in the warmth as a black, stretch limousine pulled up to the curb beside her. Switching her suitcase to the other hand, she shook the hair off of her shoulder and watched the driver get out and circle the front of the vehicle. "Juliet Carson?" He inquired, adjusting his suit collar.
"Um, yes," she smiled. "I am."
"I was told to expect a woman of impeccable beauty. I wasn't expecting a woman who exceeded that."
"Oh," Juliet blushed, tucking her dark, thick waves behind her ear. "Thank you, you're much too kind."
"May I?" He asked, motioning for her suitcase.
"Yes. Please."
Giovanni was Amir Almasi's personal chauffeur, who was sent to drive Juliet to Almasi Resort and Spa, one of the many beachfront resorts that Mr. Almasi owned. Juliet was excited. She'd researched this hotel, one of many, to try to get a feel of Mr. Almasi's style before she began her proposal for his new one. This particular one was her favorite, though. Located on Collins Avenue, locally known as Millionaire's Row, the resort boasted an enormous crystal chandelier that hung in the middle of the lobby that Juliet was chomping at the bit to see live and in person. The floors beneath it were of the finest marble, painted with intricate designs, hinting at Mr. Almasi's Middle Eastern heritage. The balcony railings were wrought iron, the ceilings cathedral-style, and the furniture red and trendy.
Juliet's heart stopped as she remembered the cathedral ceilings and she was immediately reminded of the cathedral ceiling in Eric's living room. It was warm and brown and made with the blood, sweat, and love of his own two hands. That was what made it the most beautiful piece of architecture she had ever seen. God. It was startling how much she missed that ceiling. Or maybe what she was really missing was the way she used to sit, curled up with Eric on his couch, listening with awe as he described to her for the millionth time the exact process that he'd used for putting in the ceiling. It was her favorite story and she never grew tired of hearing it and he was gracious enough to pretend that he wasn't tired of telling it.
"Here we are," Giovanni announced from the front, interrupting Juliet's reminiscing. "Almasi Resort and Spa. The most luxurious resort in Miami."
The outside of the resort was what Juliet liked to call "standard issue." Tall, rectangular, more stories than you could count on your fingers and toes. The landscaping was nice, a series of shrubs and palm trees surrounding it. It was after dark when the limo pulled up, so she supposed she'd have to wait until the morning to get a look at the detailed architecture. She wished she'd brought Beth along, or even Sven, but it was so close to Thanksgiving and everyone had been busy.
Everyone but Juliet, that was. The story of her life.
She didn't see her suitcase until she got to her room. The hotel staff had done everything but roll out the red carpet for her the moment she stepped out of the limo. She'd been whisked away to her room so quickly that she hardly had a moment to stop and appreciate the lobby that she'd looked so forward to seeing. That would be another thing that could wait until morning, she determined.
Once she was in her room--a large junior suite that overlooked the ocean--a short man in a suit walked in as the bellhop walked out. Blinking at him and sensing the nervousness in his dark eyes, she watched him clasp his hands together in front of him and raise his eyebrows. "Well, then. I'm Malik and I am Mr. Almasi's personal assistant. I trust your travel was well?"
"Um, yes," she replied hesitantly. "It was...I mean, it was travel."
Malik smiled and nodded. "Of course. Well, welcome to the junior suite. It has state-of-the-art electronics and appliances, top-of-the-line mattresses and linens, and sheets made of the finest Egyptian cotton. The bathtub is a Jacuzzi tub with the best jets on the market, and you have complete and total access to all of the recreations and amenities that the resort has to offer."
"Well, thank you," she smiled. "I'm sure I won't be needing--"
"On your bedside table, there, is your itinerary for tomorrow. Mr. Almasi wishes to give you a personal tour of his current Miami resorts so that you may get an idea of his vision. At one o'clock is lunch at Almasi Grand, and dinner will be promptly at eight at Almasi Royale, followed by drinks here at Almasi Resort and Spa."
"Wow," Juliet muttered under her breath. "Hope he squeezed in a meeting somewhere in there."
"Meeting times will be at Mr. Almasi's discretion."
"Right," she whispered with a sheepish nod.
Then he pulled a card from his suit pocket and extended it to her. "I hope you rest well tonight. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me. All hours of the night, whatever you need."
"Thank you," she barely got out of her mouth before he walked briskly out the door.
"I'll be here. All hours of the night, all hours of the day."
That was what Eric had said to her. And now she looked around her suite, at the floor-to-ceiling window, whose curtains hung wide open, and at the king-sized bed that she just knew she would sink into when she crawled into it, and her heart hurt. What if Eric were there? They'd turn out the lights, stand at the window and gaze at the ocean waves that rolled under the moonlight. Then they'd go to bed and make love until morning, using every inch of the bed, losing themselves in the covers and in each other. Was she making the right decision, distancing herself from him? In theory, it made sense. But her heart cried out in agony.
Angrily, angry at herself for being who she was, she jerked the curtains closed and made a bed on the sofa in the adjoining room. There would be no lonely bed and no lonely windows tonight.
**********
The morning, however, brought sunshine. Juliet was a morning person--unless she was in bed with Eric, tangled up with his body, and then she had no problem spending all day in bed. This morning, she'd made it a point to be up before dawn, dressed in jeans and a sweater, curled up on a hotel-issued lounge chair in the sand, enjoying the sunrise over the ocean, a hot cup of coffee in her hand. She smiled as she breathed in the salt in the fresh morning air, and she didn't know what warmed her bones more--the sun finally rising over the earth, or the way the resort's impeccable wait staff made sure her coffee never cooled off.
By the time the sun turned into a golden pendant over the ocean, the beautiful turquoise of the water began to reveal itself. Juliet longed for it to be warm enough to slip on her swimsuit and make herself a part of it, but it simply wasn't an option this time around. So, instead, she snapped a photo with her phone and sent it to Beth with the caption, "Wish you were here."
And then she rested her head against the chair and shamelessly dreamed of Eric in a pair of swim trunks. He'd have the time of his life in that water, a smile on his face, a boyish gleam in his eye. She could see him playing with their son or daughter in the water, teaching them to jump waves or look for shells or allowing them bury him in the sand. They'd be happy, their entire little family. Eric was quite literally the light in her life and she longed for the day she could finally reach it.
However, she'd actually have to be able to have children in order for that fantasy to come true. And she would have to be of sound mind and he would have to take her back. So she shook it out of her mind in favor of anticipating the day's coming activities since it was, after all, only a fantasy. Juliet had to stop letting this happen. She had to stop thinking about him. She had to stop allowing herself to get sidetracked by him all the time. He was a distraction and she had to focus on her work. After all, this trip was one of the most important trips of her entire career.
**********
Amir Almasi's accent was light, reflective of his many years as an American citizen. Juliet sat in the limousine across from Mr. Almasi, having ignored the white-after-Labor Day rule in favor of a white pants suit that made her feel like she fit in in Miami. She'd pulled her hair back in a low, loose ponytail that draped over her shoulder, and she smiled as she listened to the many reasons he had chosen to leave Pakistan behind in order to chase the American dream. Over...and over...and over again.
Mr. Almasi was easily in his fifties, standing just a couple of inches shorter than her in her heels, slightly portly, with a head full of salt and pepper hair. He wore a tailored Armani that easily cost more than a month or two of her rent, and his cologne smelled strong of sweet spice. He talked a mile a minute, frequently wiping his head with his handkerchief, and he'd repeatedly offered her champagne, which she repeatedly turned down.
Juliet's head spun by the time lunch rolled around. They had seen two hotels so far, from top to bottom, and by the second one, Juliet had silently decided that she didn't need to see any more. His vision was not a hard one to grasp, as the similarities between the various hotels were painfully apparent. She took solace in the knowledge that she didn't have to make any changes in her proposal, and had reached for her briefcase several times during lunch, only to be thwarted by a new story about how he'd made his fortune.
Mr. Almasi was kind. He was nice and he was gracious and he was polite. But holy shit, could the man talk.
After she had been all over Miami, staring at the beaches in longing while she'd lost interest in Mr. Almasi's conversation a long time ago, she was finally afforded a break, as they had a few hours to themselves before dinner. She couldn't resist taking the opportunity to slip on a pair of shorts and take a glass of wine down to the beach to lounge in a chair under the warm sun. The silky, white sand felt magnificent between her toes and the breeze enveloped her, sending delightful goose bumps up her arms. The truth was, she didn't want to move. As badly as she wanted this deal, she was content to spend the rest of the evening in that very spot.
Sadly, however, it was time to get ready for dinner and, when she reached her room, she was greeted by a long, rectangular box laying on her bed, wrapped in a bow and accompanied by a note from Mr. Almasi. She widened her eyes and arched an eyebrow in complete bewilderment as she lifted the red, slinky number out of the box. This was still a business trip, right? Was she not trying to close a deal, design a hotel, make a client out of Amir Almasi?
Juliet sighed. Yes. Yes, she was. And sometimes it was all about closing the deal--especially a dream deal. So she turned her nose up in disgust, lay the dress across the chair in preparation to put it on, and headed for the shower.
She thanked her lucky stars that she had also brought her black pants suit along with her white one, because as soon as she shimmied her way into the form-fitting, spaghetti-strapped, cocktail dress, she did not feel like she was dressed appropriately for a business dinner. She slid on her black blazer and her black stilettos and felt much better. Mr. Almasi would have to deal with it, she thought to herself, as she buttoned the blazer shut. She wore the dress, what more did he want?
By the time she walked into Mira, the premiere restaurant located on the bottom floor of Almasi Royale, Juliet had had her fair share of hotels and didn't even blink twice at any of the architecture. She was tired. She was aggravated that they had yet to discuss any hotel plans, and if he wanted to postpone any meetings until tomorrow, she could be happily watching TV in her room right now, skipping out on room service, and having a sloppy, cheap pizza delivered. With as exhausted as she'd suddenly found herself, that was a night that sounded like heaven.
Mr. Almasi had apparently had another appointment that afternoon, so she met him at dinner. Mira was a trendy, upscale restaurant with dimly-lit chandeliers, burgundy carpets that nearly matched her dress, and cozy booths at every turn and corner. She was led to one of these booths, after climbing a set of free-standing stairs, that was located in the back corner of the second floor. Gripping her briefcase, she set her shoulders back and confidently greeted Mr. Almasi, fighting to hide her dismay at the fact that it appeared that no one else would be joining them for dinner. No contractors? No architects, no attorneys, no assistant? No one? Maybe Mr. Almasi was a man who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it and didn't need such assistance to close a deal. After all, Juliet could relate. She'd closed many a deal on her own like that.
The booth sat in a corner, a high-backed semi-circle with leather upholstery and a large, round table. Juliet sat a safe distance away, across candlelight that was a common centerpiece around the room and a bottle of wine and two glasses that awaited them. Juliet accepted the wine that Mr. Almasi offered and poured for her and sipped it graciously as he poured his own glass. Finally, he rested his elbows on the table and smiled, nodding toward her. "I see you enjoyed your gift."
Juliet smiled in embarrassment, the heat rising to her cheeks. "It's a lovely dress, thank you, but it really wasn't necessary--"
"I had hoped to see it on you," he replied boldly. "I did my best to find the perfect size. Does it not fit? Is that why you wear the jacket?"
"Oh," she smiled, looking down at her blazer. "It fits just perfectly, thank you. It's just--well, the air has gotten a little nippy since the sun has gone down and I'm, um...I'm very cold-natured. The blazer is so I won't freeze to death tonight."
Mr. Almasi smiled politely and pointed to her wine glass. "Plenty of wine will warm you up, yes?"
"It's definitely possible," she agreed with a laugh, appreciating the fact that he had seemingly bought her story. Then, in a desperate attempt to turn the conversation from the dress to business, she continued, "Thank you so much for meeting me, Mr. Almasi--"
"Please. Call me Amir. And I may call you...Juliet?"
"Absolutely," she smiled. "Believe it or not, this is my first trip to Miami and I must say I'm enjoying it. It's a beautiful city."
"And beautiful beaches, no?"
"Gorgeous beaches," she chuckled warmly. "I can't seem to keep off the sand today."
Mr. Almasi smiled. "And what did you think of my...sprawling resorts?"
Juliet had turned up her wine and now swallowed so that she could answer. "Magnificent," she spat out. "They're gorgeous, I've never seen anything like them. You have quite a vision, I must say. And speaking of vision, I've been carrying around this proposal all day, excited to show it to you--"
He waved her off. "Later. I don't conduct business on an empty stomach." Then he picked up his menu and scanned it. "The food here is marvelous. We serve the rarest of delicacies imported directly from the countries they originate from. What would you like to try? You may try one, you may try them all, anything you want."
Juliet desperately scoured her menu for any kind of chicken or steak or fish. She was afraid to know what types of delicacies he spoke of and the red-blooded New Yorker that she was was elated to find a normal steak plate on the menu and ordered it. Mr. Almasi barely made an effort to hide his disappointment, ordering something that she knew she could never pronounce, and she was happy that her side of the table was going to be normal, American, and delicacy-free.
During dinner, Juliet ate like it was going out of style. She ate to stave off conversation. She ate so that she could get through with dinner and talk business. She ate so that she could close the deal and get back to her room.
Mr. Almasi was a slow eater. He took small bites and he savored his food and he had a story for the first time he tried everything on his plate. She learned about the foods' origins, how they were raised or grown or prepared, the importation and preservation processes, and how much money it cost him to do it all. "But it's no matter," he kept saying. "Money is just money, am I right?"
Sure. Money was just money. Juliet did extremely well for herself, but this particular Miami resort and the potential for more of Mr. Almasi's future business would fatten Carson Innovations' wallet to the point that Juliet's head spun. Not to mention the publicity among other developers in the area. She found herself momentarily drifting off into a daydream of all of Miami's beachfront hotels and resorts all designed by her and her company. She could rule the world.
She must have been smiling amidst her trance, because Mr. Almasi's voice interrupted her thoughts and he returned her smile. "Your dinner is delicious, yes?"
"Oh, yes," she smiled, snapping out of it. "It is, thank you. This is quite a restaurant. You know, my company, Carson Innovations, designed a couple of restaurants in Manhattan, both inside and out--"
"Did you save room for dessert?" He asked. A devious smile crossed his lips. "The chocolate is absolutely sinful."
"Oh, Amir," she blushed playfully. "You had me at chocolate. But, if you don't mind, I'm going to need a few minutes to digest dinner before I can have dessert. In the meantime, I've brought my proposal along for you to see. After seeing your impressive resorts today, I'm proud to say that I think I've captured your vision exceptionally well."
At that, Mr. Almasi scooted across the leather seat, around the table, and to her side, his body turned toward hers. She was delighted at his interest in her design and she eagerly reached over the table and began moving dishes and glasses out of the way and wiping the area with her napkin so that she could lay her plans out on the table for him. She'd gotten so far as to reach for her briefcase, which lay on the seat on the other side of her, when her blazer button popped open and she gasped at Mr. Almasi's hand casually lingering where the garment was once secured around her body.
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the shock and, just as casually as it was routine, he ran his fingers along the collar of her blazer, opening it up and revealing the dress underneath. He smiled at her, ignoring her disturbed expression. "It's warm in here, no?"
"No," she breathed, shaking her head. "It isn't, that's why I wore..."
"Wow," he breathed, unable to take his eyes off of her chest. The dress had squeezed her breasts together nearly uncomfortably and the neckline was questionable, which was all the more reason for closing up the blazer. Now she nearly spilled out in front of her potential client, who wasn't feeling very much like a client anymore. She couldn't decide whether she was humiliated or offended. Or both. "The dress is perfect. I did well."
Juliet had no idea how to respond. Normally, she was dangerously quick-witted, but right now she was so put off and uncomfortable that she couldn't even form words.
From there, it only grew worse. Amir Almasi was a confident man. A multi-billionaire who always got what he wanted, no matter what it was or who it was from. In Amir Almasi's world, money talked and it was gospel.
In Juliet's world, however, her pride was worth much more than money. In fact, her pride was priceless. And the shock and the horror she was feeling right then was rendering her speechless and said pride was taking a blow because of it. Come on, Juliet! Get it together! This man is harassing you!
His hand dropped to her leg, hot, clammy, and disgusting. He ran it upward, dangerously flirting with the seam of her dress. "You like sex, yes?"
"Um," she trembled, the sweat breaking out across her forehead all of a sudden. This wasn't how she did business. This wasn't how she did business. "There's a time and a place..." she stammered slowly.
Mr. Almasi smiled again, his hand creeping. "This is the perfect time and the perfect place, wouldn't you agree? I have a penthouse on the top floor. You can drink as much French champagne as you'd like. Do you like pornography? Pornography is an art form. We can watch, if you like, while we drink the champagne--"
"Mr. Almasi!" She finally scolded, batting his hand away and scooting herself away from him. "Sadly, I believe you've gotten the wrong idea."
He followed her, his smile never leaving his face. "Actually, I don't believe I have." His hand trailed back to her blazer collar and then his fingers suddenly hooked into the top of her dress, right against her left breast. She felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "You are so much sexier than the internet let on, Juliet."
Jerking his hand out of her dress and pushing it away, she hugged her blazer tightly around her and scooted away again. She was on the verge of tears, her intuition telling her exactly what she was afraid was coming next.
"You're very persistent, Juliet, what with your little Carson Innovations and all. I don't conduct business deals without a little research, you see. So I researched you online and what I found was...well, it made my dick hard, I'm not going to lie to you. The truth, Juliet, is that I invited you here because I knew this business deal would...thrill me. You've spoken all day long about this proposal of yours, but there is one proposal and one proposal only for this deal. It's quite simple. I take you upstairs to my penthouse, I lick champagne off of your pussy, and you show me the time of my life while I watch two beautiful women fuck each other on my eighty-inch screen. Once we've fucked and you've gotten me off, you can have your little hotel deal. It doesn't matter to me. This is Miami. It'll make me millions even if it's a little roach motel. You see, Miss Carson, I've done my homework. I know you'll fuck anyone, anywhere, it's no secret. So, then, what am I to you, but a simple notch on your bedpost, hm? You get your deal, I get to have my way with the notorious Juliet Carson, and we both go home happy. It's a win-win. So what do you say? We skip dessert and go straight upstairs?"
"No!" She shot out, the reply coming out somewhere between a gasp and a squeak. She was fighting off tears, vowing to never let him see her cry. How dare he? How dare he get her hopes up and waste her time, only to bring her all the way down to Miami to treat her like a prostitute? He'd never had any intention of doing any business with her at all. This entire trip, from her room to the tour today, every single bit of it had been a game of seduction. He'd been trying to impress her and now he thought he was sealing the deal. But she had news for him. He had another thing coming.
"How dare you be so offensive? You can't believe everything you read on the internet, Mr. Almasi. I do enjoy sex, that is the truth. But I also have standards and ethics. I am a professional. I don't mix business and pleasure and I certainly have standards when it comes to sexual partners and, you, Mr. Almasi, do not fit that mold. I don't care how rich you are. I'd fuck your bellhop before I'd fuck you. How dare you drag me all the way down here for this sick game of yours? Is this the only way you can get laid? By tricking women into...?"
Her voice trailed off when a vision of Eric suddenly popped into her mind. They were laughing. "I promise this isn't the only way I can get dates," he'd grinned.
And then the threat of tears was unrelenting and in that moment, she wanted nothing in this world but Eric Reynolds. She scooped up her briefcase and slid out of the booth, hurriedly making her way down the stairs and out of the restaurant before the tears steadily streamed down her face.
____________________________
It had been three days since Eric had heard from Juliet. He wasn't sure what he expected. They'd practically said goodbye to each other, she admitted she cared about him and that she was getting help, what more did he want?
He wanted her. It was always her.
Wednesday night he had found himself in bed relatively earlier than normal and, for what felt like the first time in weeks, he slept. He'd finally come to terms with the fact that he was a hopeless mess and he had to accept the way things were now. He had to give her space and let her do what she needed to do and he...needed to get his act together.
So he'd spent those three days trying to get his life back. On Tuesday, Reynolds Construction had broken ground on a new project and that kept Eric relatively occupied at work. Afterward, he was in the gym every night and he even went to dinner with the guys. Nobody had brought up Juliet and he didn't bring her up, either. He was glad for it. In a way, he understood that he needed to distance himself from her. He needed to take in a breath and start fresh just like she was. When she was ready to start over with him, he would need to be strong and stable enough for her to lean on. He had to wear the pants in the relationship. He had to be her man. And that, admittedly, started with being his own man.
By Wednesday evening, the exhaustion caught up with him. There was a complication with the new project at work that day and he ended up spending the majority of the day on the worksite with Travis. He'd hit the gym hard to work out his frustrations that night and, by the time he finally made it home, he was ready to pass out. He'd spent an hour or two sitting up in bed in his glasses, reviewing a proposal he was putting together for yet another project, contrary to his general beliefs of appropriate work hours. He loved his eight-to-five schedule. He swore by it. But now he was beginning to see what Juliet saw in "homework."
Eric had been asleep for a couple of hours, at least. He honestly didn't know and as he picked up his ringing phone, he tried to do the math but had no idea what time he'd actually fallen asleep. It didn't matter, though. It was Juliet and it was late and his heart immediately pounded with alarm.
"Hey," he answered sleepily. "How, uh, how are you? Is everything okay?"
She was silent at first before he heard her take a staggered breath. "You said--um you said I could call you...whenever...if I needed to talk."
"Yeah," he replied gently, rubbing his eyes into the darkness. "Yeah, I'm here."
"I don't want to...you know, lead you on, I just--"
"I don't feel that way at all. I'm actually, uh, I'm really glad you called."
"I'm sorry I woke you up," she said quietly. "You should--you need your rest. I can call another time."
Her voice was like an angel whispering in his ear. He was comforted and he was warm and he closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the way it felt to be cared about by her.
Then he opened his eyes. "Juliet. Stop trying to take care of me. This is about you."
"I'm-I'm not, I--"
He smiled into the air. "You rant about my cholesterol. You offer me imaginary medicine for a freak stomach bug. You seem to think I need rest twenty-four seven--"
"You don't sleep enough. I know you don't."
"You sleep less than I do."
"Unless I'm next to you. Then I sleep through the night."
"Me, too."
"Eric, I'm--I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--I just--Eric..."
"It's okay," he said softly.
"No, it isn't." Her voice cracked with a squeak and she sniffed loudly. "I promised that I wouldn't burden you with my problems."
Now alarmed, Eric sat up in his bed. "You don't burden me enough," he argued. "That's what I'm here for, Juliet. You can trust me."
There was silence for a moment before he heard her staggered breath in the phone. "I'm in Florida right now. Miami. The weather is unusually warm, the ocean is beautiful and blue, and the beach scent of the breeze is intoxicating. I'm literally in paradise. But I'm sitting...in a hotel with cathedral ceilings in the lobby and floor-to-ceiling windows in my room and I'm just...missing you so much." Her voice finally gave way to the tears and she sobbed quietly into the phone.
Listening to her cry tore him apart. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath. "I miss you, too."
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Don't apologize."
"I shouldn't have called."
"Don't you dare hang up that phone. I told you I wasn't going anywhere. Whatever you need, all hours of the day. I meant it."
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Eric listened as Juliet sniffed and breathed in an effort to collect herself before she spoke again. "I came here to propose a design for a new resort. I was personally invited by the owner. He put me up in one of his resorts, I thought--I thought this was it, you know? I've been chasing this account for so long and I thought that by getting this invitation that I'd pretty much nailed it. We went out for dinner tonight and it occurred to me that all we'd done all day was look at his various resorts. He hadn't even seen my design. So I came prepared. Except that--except--" She paused to take a breath, fighting to keep her composure. "Except that he Googled me, Eric. Before he even called me, he'd Googled me. He ran his hand up my leg and told me that the account was mine as long as I slept with him. As long as I fucked him, Eric. Because he said the reason he invited me to Miami was because he'd knew I'd make for...an interesting business deal." Then the sobs came. "He never even wanted to look at my work. He doesn't even care about my work, he thought--oh, Eric. I feel so dirty and cheap. Like a prostitute."
And then she broke down again.
Eric was thrown into a violent rage. Tossing the bed's covers off of him, he marched out of his bedroom and to the kitchen where his laptop was. "I'll kill him," he spat. "What hotel are you in?"
"Eric, that's not--you don't have to--"
"I'm looking at flights right now, I could be there in the morning. Just tell me where you are."
"Please don't. You don't have to do this, it's not worth it--"
"You are worth everything," he replied through gritted teeth. "I can't go back and fix the things that happened to you, but I can sure as hell fix this."
"There's nothing to fix. I'm coming home tomorrow, the deal's off."
"Come home to me, then," he breathed without thinking. "What time does your flight come in, I'll pick you up."
"Eric," she whispered. "You said I could call if I needed to talk. You said you wouldn't feel led on and I'm not meaning to. I shouldn't have been so personal. I should have kept my missing you to myself."
"At this point I'll take you any way I can get you. I'm at your mercy."
"Why, Eric?"
"Because you make me a better man. When you smile, when you need me--I become the man I always wanted to be. And that only happens when I'm with you. When you reach over and you take my hand...I can conquer the world."
"Eric..."
"It's the truth. I'm not trying to put pressure on you, but I'm not going to apologize for the way I feel, either."
"I don't--I don't want to apologize for the way I feel, either."
"Then don't."
"But I'm sorry for--for putting you through this. I'm sorry for being me."
"No," he whispered, reluctantly abandoning his laptop and pulling out a dining chair from under the table instead. He sat down, running a hand through his hair and resting his elbows on his knees. "Baby, no," he whispered again. "I wish you could see what I see. Or even what Beth sees. You've been through hell and you've walked through fire, but did you burn? No. You rose above it. Your heart is gold, your soul is--it's good. You have to remember, Juliet, you did nothing wrong. Nothing. What you went through wasn't your fault. And this is your time now. It's your time to finally stand in front of it and face it and slay it and finally stop letting it define you. Don't you know how beautiful you are? And I haven't even started on your outer beauty, yet."
"I can't believe you see so much in me," she whispered.
He shook his head and scoffed. "The feeling's mutual."
"You're a good man. Too good. Sometimes I forget you're twenty-seven--"
"Here we go with this again."
"I mean it. I've never been able to look a man in the face before and tell him that I care for him. You were put into my life for a reason, I truly believe that. But the timing..."
"Is more perfect than you think."
"I wish that were the case."
He let out a breath and hung his head before a new thought crossed his mind. A thought he knew had always been there but he'd always pushed back because he didn't want to consider it a possibility. "Juliet? Do you resent me?"
"No!" She gasped. "No, not ever! What for?"
"I'm not--I'm not encouraging you to keep everything bottled in, by any means, but--well, you said I was the first person you ever told. And ever since then it feels like it's been...like Pandora's box."
"It's tough. And it's painful. And I have nightmares and memories that are randomly triggered but, the truth is, I think it's supposed to happen this way. So I can face it. How can I resent you when, ultimately, you're my salvation?"
"Jules," he breathed.
"Why else were you put into my life? I was meant to look into your eyes and melt into your arms and trust you and...and face it. Because of you."
"I need you, Juliet," he replied, his voice nearly giving in to his tears. "I need you so much. My world is so empty without you."
"You don't need this damaged version of me. I'm going to do this. I'm going to therapy. You deserve better. I'm going to be better."
"You're perfect now."
"I have to go. I have an early flight tomorrow. Eric...please don't give up on me."
"Don't leave me."
"That isn't my intention. I just need this time."
"Are you going to be okay? After tonight, I mean."
"Yeah," she whispered. "Talking to you made me feel better."
Eric was glad Juliet felt better. Making her happy was what he wanted, it was quickly becoming his ultimate life goal. But then...how did talking to her make him feel?
Confused. Alone. Desperate. Everything but complete and total comfort.