Page 22 of If You Could Only Imagine
I waited until she was out of view before dropping my head on my desk. Now, my office door was open, and so anyone could walk by and see my face planted against the desk, but I didn’t care right now. I had bigger issues to consider than if I looked a fool. The first, and foremost being, what was I going to do about Aiden Buchanan?
All my life I played safely in the yard. I never toed over onto the sidewalk. I never ran into the street. I never ventured on over in the neighbor’s yard.
I. Always. Stayed. Perfectly. Safe.
I worked hard, paid all my bills on time, got my car routinely maintained, recycled…the works. Jesus Christ, my parents have even managed to move to a better neighborhood with the extra I send home from my paychecks after my promotion. And, with one five-minute handshake, I’ve managed to jeopardize my carefully constructed life because Aiden Buchanan stirred a fire in me I didn’t know could exist.
And, even though, I did run from him in a morning after panicking, I went back willingly, using his caveman ways as a weak excuse to do so. I pretended to put up a decent fight so I could feel better about myself when it was all over. But the plain fact of the matter was I knew sleeping with Aiden was wrong and I did it fucking, anyway.
It wasn’t just that he was my boss-which was bad enough in and of itself-but his wallet put him in a world I would never be comfortable in. I didn’t drink champagne or go to galas. Hell, I didn’t even know where the nearest Prada store was. I didn’t do fancy.
Then there was the fact that he was White and I was mixed. There was a lot of tolerance in the world today, but then, there was still a lot of prejudice, too. Growing up, witnessing how mixed couples were treated, I knew it was something I never wanted to have to endure.
Yes, I was half Caucasian, but like with most half-breeds, the African-American genes were more prominent. You could see it in my hair, my darker skin tone, and my never-ending curves. I always believed I’d end up marrying a strong, successful, charming African-American with the same likes and dislikes as me. I had it all worked out in my head. Our children would be mixed exactly like us and we’d live happily ever after as a perfectly mixed family. Mixed, but the same.
And then Aiden Buchanan walked into my life, shook my hand, and fucked up my entire plan. Now I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do.
Chapter 12
Aiden~
I wanted to pin a ribbon on my suit jacket.
I knew Denise was at work and I’ve managed to make it the entire day without going by her office, calling her into my office, or texting her a million times.
And I was losing my fucking mind.
I always knew Mason was a strong motherfucker, but I have a whole new appreciation for his self-control now. How he managed to stay away from Shane for three years is incomprehensible.
I was preparing for a meeting I had in a half hour when the door to my office swung open. I prayed beyond prayer that it was Denise here for a quickie, but as I looked up, my dick was disappointed that it wasn’t. Instead, Michael strolled in like he owned the place.
Which, I suppose he did, along with the rest of us.
I smiled. I was happy to see my little brother. “What’s doing?”
Michael smiled and dropped his ass down in one of the chairs across from me. “I should be asking you that? I’m not the one making six am goddamn phone calls,” he smirked.
I let out a deep sigh. “My good looks and charm aren’t working, Michael,” I joked.
“That’s because you and Mason aren’t as good looking and me and Gabriel,” he joked back.
“Okay, you asshole,” I laughed. “Are you really here checking up on me and my love life?”
His brows shot up with the obvious. “Well, of course, that’s why I’m here. Why else would I be in the same building where I could possibly run into Dad, if not for you or Mason?”
“Good point,” I muttered. While the rest of us have grown past our father’s existence, Michael still had a lot of deep-seeded hate for the man. “So, did you come up with any solutions for my dilemmas?”
He snorted. “You don’t have dilemmas, Aid. What you have is drama,” he corrected. “Unfortunately, it’s of the female variety, and I don’t think that ever goes away.”
“I’m going to tell Shane you said that,” I threatened.
Michael narrowed his eyes at me. “You tell her anything to make her sore with me and I will murder you, Aiden. Slowly and painfully and I’ll drag it out for days,” he replied…joking, I think.
“Okay, okay,” I chuckled. “No telling Shane anything.”
He leaned back in the seat and relaxed. “At any rate, you jackhole, what I meant was that as long as you’re a man in love with a woman, you’re always going to have drama. And you want to know why?”
“No,” I deadpanned, then rolled my eyes. “Why?”
