Final Call (Call #2)(44)
Author: Emma Hart

And I am. In all honesty, I’m completely glad he hired me that night. Regardless of the events since, staying and seeing it out was the best thing I could have done.

I can’t control love. I know this. But I can control how much of an impact it has on my life. I can control whether or not I choose to let it be my life. And that’s what I’m doing. Instead of letting it spiral crazily inside me, instead of fighting it, I’m embracing it.

I’m giving Aaron my all, and he’s giving me his.

I look out the window. “Um, this isn’t the way to my house.”

“I know. You’re staying with me tonight.”

“Demanding again, Mr. Stone?”

“Requirement, Miss Black.”

“You’re getting awfully requirement-happy lately. Are you aware of this?”

His eyes crash into mine, the lust there tugging at my own desire, and his lips curve into a dangerously sexy smirk that makes me want to kiss it off him.

“Oh, I’m very aware. My c**k is also aware of its numerous requirements. Requirements you will be finding out more about very, very soon.”

“Sounds promising.”

“I never joke about f**king you, Miss Black.”

“Is that so?” I run my tongue across my bottom lip. His eyes follow the movement, and he cups my chin, pulling my face to his.

“There’s nothing funny about making you come, Dayton. Nor is there anything funny about having my c**k so deep inside you that you can’t feel anything but me.”

My desire flares like a lit match. It engulfs my body as his words strike up any number of thoughts about the way he moves inside me, and I swallow hard like it’ll counteract the aching in my core.

“I agree. It’s a very serious matter,” I manage, trying to keep a straight face.

Aaron stares at me until we reach his apartment building and we get out. He places a hand on either side of my waist, steering me toward the elevator, and lowers his mouth to my ear.

“A very serious matter I intend to take care of tonight. Perhaps twice.”

My mouth goes dry. Holy f**k. Yes. Please do.

The elevator doors open and he unlocks his apartment door, pausing slightly before opening it. I look at his hand then him. As if my eyes on him flicks something, he pushes the handle down and the door swings open.

I step in before I realize that anything is different. And freeze when I see it.

My coats are hanging on the hooks in the hallway. Some of my throw pillows are strewn across the large U-shaped sofa, and my books have filled the bookcase that curves behind it. I stroll into the bathroom without speaking, and sure as shit, my stuff is in here too. My toothbrush. My shampoo. My soap.

I yank open the cupboard doors beneath the sinks and find all my of my beauty products lined up—exactly the way I had them in my own bathroom. My towels are hanging on the rails next to the bath, and my favorite Yankee candles are sitting in the windowsill.

What. The. Fuck?

Slamming the door behind me, I walk into Aaron’s bedroom, ignoring my other candles on the side, and shove my way into his closet. My clothes are hanging next to his. My shoes are lined beneath them, from boots to heels to sandals, and the box holding all my nail polishes and extra makeup is sitting on the shelf above the rail.

The large canvas of us he showed me in his office apartment is hanging on the wall in here, and when I walk next door to his office, there are another two pictures. One framed on the desk, one on the wall.

I cover my eyes with my hand, my chest tight. It takes a lot for me to take a deep breath and not scream at him when I walk back into the main room.

“Either someone who has belongings exactly the same as me has taken residence in your apartment or you’ve moved me in.”

“I’ll ease your mind and confirm the latter.”

I put my hands on my hips. Don’t shout. Don’t freak. Don’t go—

“What the f**k, Aaron? You said you didn’t do anything stupid! Jesus! I told you I wasn’t ready for this! I can’t f**king believe you’ve moved me into your apartment without even asking me!”

So much for not going crazy.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I hadn’t done anything impulsive. I did it after.”

“Oh, and that makes it all better, does it? It’s totally f**king okay because you didn’t lie to me about it. Oh my god!” I run my fingers through my hair. “How the hell did you even get into my house?”

“Your best friend has a spare key.”

“You roped Liv in on this?”

“I may not have been completely honest when I told her you’d requested some of your belongings be moved here.”

I exhale through pursed lips. “You and I? Not f**king talking right now.”

I spin on my heels and stalk into the spare bedroom, ready to face-plant the bed and scream into the pillow. But of course, I can’t. Because of course he’s turned that into a lingerie room. My lingerie room. With space for all my new stuff.

And it’s organized perfectly. Just how I had it. As if he’d been in and taken photos before everything was transferred.

I leave the room again. Aaron’s leaning against the bar, a steaming mug in hand, his eyes following me.

“What do you expect me to do with my house? Am I supposed to sell it now?”

He shakes his head. “No, absolutely not. Without meaning to bring up our previous conversation, my apartment isn’t exactly where I imagine living with you in the future.”

Ah, yes. That conversation.

“So, what? I’m supposed to pay a mortgage on a house I’m not even living in?”

“You’ll find that an amount covering the rest of your mortgage repayments was deposited into your account this morning for you to pay it off.”

“Fuck no.” I stalk across the room and jab my finger in his chest. “That is my house, and I’m not letting you pay it off. I’m calling the bank tomorrow and having it sent back to your account. I will pay it off.”

Great. Now there’s another one hundred and twenty-five thousand I have to find for Naomi.

Aaron curls his fingers around my wrist and lowers my hand. “By all means, sweetheart, have it transferred back to my account. You’ll find it’ll be back in yours within the hour.”

“You’re not paying off my house,” I say through gritted teeth. “I don’t need or want you to.”

He leans across the bar, his mug hitting the surface of it with a gentle clunk, and tugs my face toward him. “And one day that will be our house, just like this will be our apartment, and our company, and our money. I know you like to do things yourself, but start getting used to me doing them for you because it’s going to happen a lot more often.”