Forsaking Gray (The Colloway Brothers Book 1) (2 page)

Damn you Louboutin and your impractical shoes.

“Hello Livia,” a deep sensual voice drawls behind me. His voice and touch combined almost make my knees buckle. After all these years, he still has the same effect on all of my senses like the day we met. He sounds the same, albeit a bit more grown up. And a
lot
more sexy.

Jesus, I don’t think I can do this.

You can do this Livia.

You
have
to do this.

Be cold.

Be unaffected.

Lie.

I take a deep breath, will the tears back, and steel myself before turning to face him.

“Hello Gray. Fancy seeing you here.”
Holy…breathe, Livia, breathe
. I am almost taken aback by how utterly gorgeous he is. He had been stunning across the room and he was always beautiful, but up close he’s like a golden angel sent directly from heaven—or hell—to tempt me. His face is no longer boyish, but all man, complete with the sexiest scruffy whiskers I have ever seen. This is more than a five o’clock shadow, but not quite a full beard. I’m a sucker for scruff. Especially on Gray, but he’s never worn it like this. It’s downright sinful.

Double damn.

“What are you doing here Livvy?”
Livvy
. I haven’t heard that name in over five years. It sounds so damn good I want to weep.

Dig deep, Livia…maintain the façade you’ve perfected so very well.

“I came for the same reason you probably did, the animals.” Bravo for me. I sounded very confident…and very
stupid
. My internal head is shaking at me sadly.

He says nothing, remaining stoically silent, his eyes searching mine for the truth.

Subject change, before he asks too many more questions, for which I’ll have to build lie on top of lie. I’ve told so many lies I need a cheat sheet to keep track of them all. “So, why are you in Chicago?”

His penetrating gaze makes me even more nervous than I already am, and I start to squirm. I never intended to run into anyone I knew here, let alone him. I would have never let Kam talk me into this stupid fundraiser otherwise.

Shit. Shit. Shit
. This is so not good.

“I took over my father’s company, and we moved the headquarters from Detroit to Chicago last year.”

He lives here? In Chicago? My mind is spinning. I’m trying to process the fact that my ex-fiancé lives in the same city as I do, and that he took over his father’s company already. I didn’t remember Frank being that old. I shouldn’t be engaging him in conversation, but I can’t help but ask, “Did he retire?”

“No. He died.” I gasp and my heart sinks.

“God, I’m sorry Gray, I had no idea. Your dad was a wonderful man.” He was like a father to me, more so than my own, who’d essentially sold me to save his own life. I loved that family. They were like my own until they weren’t anymore.

“Of course not, Livvy. How could you possibly when you fucking disappeared over five years ago, without a trace, without a call, without a forwarding goddamn phone number?” His retort was ripe with barbs, and it stung in the way it was meant to. I deserved some of his ire yes, but not all of it.

Gray has no clue the living nightmare I’ve endured. What I had done for my family or for him. And it would stay that way. I have to get away from him before I do something stupid, like spill my guts. He is my past, and as much as it deeply pains me, he has to stay that way. Too much has happened in the last five years that I simply can’t overcome. I am damaged goods now, and Gray would never want me if he knew the truth. I need to get the hell out of here before I break down. I can’t keep the tears back much longer.

“I have to go. It was nice to see you again, Gray.” I need to get out of here before I throw myself at him and beg for his forgiveness. Because even though I don’t quite deserve it, a small part of me desperately craves it. Gray is my first love. The only man I will ever love. And that young, naive woman now buried deep inside me will hold tightly to the memory of her first love with her last dying breath. It’s all that has gotten me through the worst days of my life.

And it’s all I have left.

I spin to leave when a strong hand pulls me back once again. Every time this man puts his hands on me, I bend to his will, and right now I feel like a torch has been set to my bones and they are far too pliable. My eyes flit between it and his ever so handsome face. He gets the gist and lets go.

Although his voice has softened, his annoyance clearly rings loud when uttering his next words. “How can I get ahold of you, angel? I’d like to have dinner. Catch up.”

My heart skips a beat. I haven’t heard that endearment in so long, I have to blink back the tears threatening to fall. I
want
to agree. I nearly do. But then common sense slams back into my frontal lobe at a hundred miles per hour. If I spend time with Gray, he’ll pepper me with questions. Questions he has
every
right to have answered. But those are answers I won’t give. I can’t. He can never know.

Gone is the young, naïve, rosy-colored glasses woman he fell in love with. Gone is the carefree, idealistic woman he’d asked to be his wife. What stands in her place, instead, is a cynical, horribly used and hopeless one. Shattered beyond all repair.

“I can’t,” I whisper. Then I do turn and flee. Luckily, there are several cabs waiting out front and I hop in the first one, yelling at him just to drive. As I turn around, I see Gray standing on the sidewalk, breathing hard, watching me drive away. Deja vu cuts me like a sharp knife and I begin to sob silently. These are the first tears I’ve allowed myself to shed in four and a half years.

Once again, I am leaving the only man to ever make my stomach flutter and my heart race. The man who pursued me relentlessly for that first date by returning for six straight nights to the pizzeria I worked at until I said yes. The man I’d dreamed of having children with. Growing old with. The only man I have, and ever will love.

All because of
him
. Always because of
him
. As with every day for the past five years, I curse the day Peter Wilder set foot into my life. And I curse my father for bringing him there.

Chapter 2

“Right this way ma’am,” the petite, slightly overweight receptionist directs, as we walk the short distance to a small, but very nice, conference room. “You’re rather early, so it will be a while before Mr. Nichols is ready to see you. Help yourself to water or soda in the fridge over there while you wait.”

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Yes, I am a good thirty-five minutes early. Without a car, you have to follow the train schedule. I pass on the drink. I’d already stopped at a Starbucks across the street from the tall downtown office building and had a double shot espresso hazelnut macchiato. I am buzzing from the copious amounts of caffeine I’d just ingested.

But the caffeine is an absolute requirement. I had been up half the night unable to stop thinking about Gray. Seeing him had been like picking an old scab. Now you have to treat it, disinfect it and bandage it again because it’s bleeding. If you ignore it, blood leaks everywhere, leaving behind stains you can’t get out. I can’t afford any more stains. I already have too many.

I look out the window and wonder how, out of all the cities in the world, could we possibly be
living
in the same one? I’d moved to Chicago because no one knew me here, it is big and I could get lost in the millions of people.

So is it karma or fate that I’d ran into my former fiancé at an event that I should have never been at in the first place? If Kam’s date hadn’t bailed at the last minute, I never would have been there, and I’m not yet sure if I’m grateful or regretful that I was. It’d been crushing to see him with another woman, to see that he’s moved on. But it was nice to add a new recollection of him to my well-used memory banks. My memories of him were all that got me through some very dark, very rough times.

Walking away from him last night flooded my heart with nearly unbearable pain, and I’d spent a good hour sobbing into my pillow, wallowing in self-pity. And that was a deep, black pit I couldn’t allow myself to fall into again because God knows, I would
not
make it back to the top this time.

During the little sleep I did manage to get, it was as tortured as my consciousness. I dreamed of Gray, as I often did, but this was different. It seemed so very real, and I’d dreamed of Gray now versus the Gray I remembered. Of his scruff tickling the inside of my thigh before his mouth latched onto my aching sex. Of the way his thick fingers stretched me, readying me for his heavy cock. Of the way he’d grab my hair and use it as leverage while he pumped ruthlessly into me from behind until I shattered around him, screaming his name. But this was rougher. Raw. Fast and hard.

And I loved every minute of it. I only wish it were real.

When I woke, I was so achy and needy I exploded after just a few swirls on my soaking clit, and I was still in agony. Both physically and emotionally. That was a very bad place to be. I breathe through the familiar sadness that always shrouds me, willing it away.

Gray would surely not like the sad, cynical woman I’ve become underneath my crusty outer shell. Hell,
I
don’t like her either. I know that façade slipped a little when I saw him last night. For a fleeting minute, I felt like the old Livvy that he’d known and loved. And I know he’d seen it.

I feel off kilter after seeing him. I need to call Dr. Howard and make an urgent appointment because my regularly scheduled one isn’t until next week. I need to talk to someone, and she’s only one of two people that know my entire story. The other I haven’t seen since he helped me escape two years ago.

For the first year I lived in Chicago, I saw Dr. Howard three times a week, gradually weaning down to just every other week now. I’m a far cry from where I was when I stepped foot into this city for the very first time and there’s no doubt I wouldn’t be where I am today, both mentally and emotionally, without her. But I feel thrown for a giant loop after last night and I’m floundering. A balloon let loose in the gusty winds, unclear on where I’ll end up.

“Ms. Kingsley?”

“Ah, yes, sorry.” I wonder how long the fair-haired receptionist has been calling my name.

“Mr. Nichols will see you now.”

“Yes, thank you.” I glance at the clock on the wall as I exit the room.

8:55 a.m.

I have effectively wasted an entire half hour daydreaming instead of preparing for the job I so desperately need. And to what end? The past is what it is. It can’t be changed or altered.
Or forgotten
.

I’ve been free of Peter Wilder for over two years now. I need to stay in the here and now and put on my best game face. I have my lies all neatly in order. Lies no one can really verify, but would garner me the sympathy I need to land the job all the same. The fact that Kamryn knows someone high up here will probably help too.

I smooth out my borrowed black pencil skirt and straighten the blood red sheer, long-sleeved shirt that I’ve paired with my own red camisole underneath. The outfit is complemented with three-inch black peep toe shoes and some light jewelry. It’s edgy, but not slutty. If I do get the job, Addy graciously said I could borrow her clothes anytime until I can afford some nice ones of my own, since my wardrobe is made up almost entirely of Goodwill hand-me-downs. She is really a great roommate and friend.

Blondie shows me to the elevator, inserts a special card key, and instructs me to take the polished glass lift to the twenty-sixth floor where I will wait in the reception area until Connie, Mr. Nichols’ current admin, collects me.

“Good luck,” she whispers as the doors shut. I do my best to give her a genuine smile, but it’s difficult with the butterflies churning in my stomach. All too soon the elevator doors open. Quickly spotting a few chairs off to the left, I sit and scan the area.

Typical layout, with cubicles and offices lining the wall, a glass display case on the far wall houses the many awards HMT Enterprises has received. I know one of them is for an employee-friendly environment.

In preparation for today, I’ve done a lot of research about HMT Enterprises. They have quite a few technology patents and recently expanded into the residential space. Their main business, however, seems to be very high end, very sophisticated and very expensive commercial security systems.

Wesley Nichols, whom I’ll be interviewing with, has been with the company for three years, quickly climbing his way up the corporate ladder. HMT is a privately-owned company, and I like that about them. They only have to answer to their board, not Wall Street. I’d read enough to know they are a very fair, very employee-friendly company to work for and offer a lot of free on-site benefits, such as a fitness center, a café and dry cleaning services.

With money being as tight as it is, free is good. Hopefully, I can land this job and I won’t be so strapped. Maybe I can even think about going back to school to finish my education degree and I can eventually do what I’ve always dreamed of doing. Teach. It sure would be nice to fulfill one of the many dreams I had once upon a time.