Shut Up and Kiss Me Read online

  “I know that, but there has to be more to it.” Biting into her donut, Nikki groaned with pleasure. “God, that’s good. Why is all the good stuff so bad for us?”

  I shrugged again, my thoughts still on Will. Perhaps that was what this was: a sign that he was bad for me. Maybe this was a good thing after all, because when I really stopped to think about it, I knew I didn’t need the added complication in my life. And certainly no one needed the many complications I would cause in their life.

  I picked at my donut, pulling free a piece and popping it into my mouth. What was it my mom used to say to me? “A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.” I smiled to myself, remembering Will’s fingers digging into my hips.

  “It was really good,” I said, sighing wistfully. “And I hate that I really liked him. It just makes me feel pathetic.”

  Putting down her coffee, Nikki shot me an incredulous look. “Oh no, Mila! You can’t fall for a one-night stand. That’s not how it works. One-night stands are like rest areas off the highway: you only stop to send a quick text and refresh yourself before resuming your travels. It’s the five-star hotel you should be looking for! Full amenities and shit like that!”

  Finishing my donut, I dug around in my purse until I found the note Will had left, unsure if I wanted to show it to Nikki, but knowing that I would regardless. I shared everything with Nikki. She knew my past and she knew my present. My future was still to be determined.

  I had come to New York wide-eyed and disillusioned with life. Both my parents were dead, I had no siblings to speak of, and a past I had no choice but to run from. Only Nikki had stopped me in my tracks. She was small and feisty, witty and loyal, and I knew as soon as I’d met her that we’d become fast friends.

  Her eyes went wide at the sight of the note, a grin splitting her lips.

  Rolling my eyes, I pushed it across the tabletop. “It’s nothing good. Just his name and number.”

  While Nikki scanned the small scrap of paper, I stared blankly out the window, feeling somewhat used, even though I knew I had used him just as he had used me.

  Was it wrong of me to feel slighted by him? To be bothered that he’d snuck out while I slept? I wasn’t sure. I only knew how I felt.

  * * *

  “Today?”

  Will paused in mid-stroll and turned to glare at Richard. He’d been under the impression he was only here, at his parents’ estate in Westchester, for his weekly brunch with his mother. Only his mother. Not then entirety of his…family.

  “I reminded you,” Richard said dryly, shaking his head. “Two days ago.”

  “Is he serious?” Will asked, turning to look at his Angus, his family’s butler. “They’re all here? Now?”

  The “they” being Will’s two brothers, his sister, their spouses and their children.

  The old man nodded solemnly. He had been working for Will’s family since before Will’s birth, and never once did he have an expression that looked anything other than...solemn. Will was quite sure Angus had a wife, kids, grandkids, and even a great-grandchild, but when he was here, working, you’d think he was a robot.

  “How’s your family?” Will asked Angus, handing him his coat.

  “Very well, sir,” the butler answered, his tone as robotic as his expression. “Thank you for asking.” And then, with a single nod, he turned and marched slowly from the opulent main hall.

  Will watched him go, taking note of the way his shoulders were hunching more than usual and that the limp in his left leg seemed a bit more pronounced. Although, for a man in his late eighties, who’d spent a lifetime of servitude to the likes of Will’s miserable family, Angus seemed to be doing just fine.

  Turning back to Richard, finding the man smirking at him, Will sighed heavily. “I should make you join me,” he said.

  Richard’s dark eyes widened considerably, a laughable expression on such a large, intimidating man’s face. “I’d rather eat my own eyeballs while standing barefoot on hot coals.” Then, his shoulders quaking with silent laughter, he quickly added, “Sir.”

  “Go,” Will demanded, his lips twitching as he tried not to laugh. “Get out of here, you lucky bastard.”

  Richard wasted no time in hurrying toward the door. Glancing over his shoulder, a full-fledged grin on his face, he called out, “I’ll keep the car running…you know, in case you need a quick getaway.”

  The double entrance doors slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing loudly through the vast space and vaulted ceiling. Will glanced up, looking over his mother’s prized chandelier with disdain.

  He hated extravagance and his family was nothing if not extravagant to the nth degree. It was why he’d traveled so much, to forgo the creature comforts and excess he’d been raised among, hoping to find something else—something that would fill up the emptiness all the things surrounding him could not.

  And for a while it had worked. He’d kept himself busied with visiting other countries and taking part in different cultures. And while the scenery had been phenomenal, the people intriguing, all he’d really garnered after years of travel was that, unfortunately, his problem wasn’t with his surroundings at all. It was with himself.

  To make matters worse, his parents had been less than pleased with his decision to forgo graduate school in favor of world travel, and even more disappointed when, instead of following in his family’s footsteps and joining the Townsend’s empire of stocks and bonds, he’d gone the route of entrepreneur instead and proceeded to use his inheritance to open up a series of nightclubs around the country. It was official then: he wasn’t just the youngest anymore, but the black sheep in his family as well. And while his mother tolerated his decisions, the rest of them never failed to use any opportunity they could to rub it in his face. Even his nieces and nephews, as young as they were, never failed to find an excuse to belittle him.

  Sighing noisily and straightening his back, subconsciously steeling himself for what was to come, he made his way down the hallway Angus had disappeared within and headed toward the back of house to the informal sitting room where he knew everyone would be waiting.

  The din of conversation grew louder the further into the depths of the home he walked. Soon he could easily make out his mother’s tinkling laughter amid his father’s booming voice, as well as the distinctive voices of each one of his siblings.

  Reaching the French doors, already partially opened, Will grabbed the handles, took another deep breath, and then pulled them open. All at once the faces of his family swiveled in his direction and the chatter inside the room ceased. Meeting the eyes of each individual, Will counted ten bodies in total: his parents, his two brothers, his sister-in-law, his sister and her husband, his two nieces, and one nephew. They were all here.

  “William,” his mother said, breaking the silence. Standing up from her seat on the beige settee, she started toward him, her black heels clicking a staccato beat across the wooden flooring. Tall and willowy, wearing a silk kimono-style dress, her dark hair streaked heavily with gray and her blue eyes twinkling, Elise Townsend wrapped her arms around her youngest child and gave him a brief but welcoming hug.

  “Come, come,” she said, smiling as she pulled away. “Sit with me, William.”

  Feeling like a death row inmate being led to his execution, Will let his mother guide him past his staring siblings and dismissive father. Taking a seat on the settee, he reached immediately for an hors d'oeuvre tray, picking out a tomato ombre and stuffing it into his mouth. He chewed loudly, overly aware of the many sets of eyes upon him.

  “William,” his oldest brother Bryan greeted him, nodding in his direction.

  “Bryan,” he replied, his mouth still full of food. Seated beside her husband, Bryan’s wife Isabel wrinkled her nose in disgust and turned away from him.

  “Michael,” he continued. Still chewing, he gave his other brother a nod. Michael was recently divorced, and the absence of his overbearing and usually pinched-faced ex-wife was a welcome one.

/>   “William,” Michael responded curtly, rolling his eyes.

  “Here, sweetheart,” Elise whispered, patting a napkin onto Will’s leg. “Use this.”

  “How about a bib?” his sister interjected shrilly. Across the room, Grace Townsend, despite the subtle protests of her husband, leaned forward and glared at Will. Grace had always been strung just a little too tightly, always overly concerned with appearance. As a child, Will’s greatest amusement had been sneaking into her room and rearranging her color-coordinated closet.

  “Anyway,” his father said. Taking a swallow of what Will guessed was coffee, his father, who was also named Will, turned his attention to Michael. Uncrossing his legs, he re-crossed them in the opposite direction, facing away from Will. Dismissing him. “As I was saying…”

  Will tuned out, entirely uninterested in his father’s business mumbo jumbo. Giving his mother a small smile, he stuffed another tomato ombre into his mouth and surveyed the room. Michael’s daughters, fraternal twins named Bridget and Katherine, were sitting side by side on the window seat, whispering to themselves while their cousin Matthew, the spitting image of his mother Grace, sat in a nearby armchair staring sulkily at the ceiling.

  Will might have felt pity for the teenagers if he didn’t already know them. They were every bit as awful as their parents when it came to entitlement and greed. Money, money, money was their motto—the more you had, the better you were.

  All around him, conversations picked back up; small arguments ensued, laugher, and bouts of silence for eating breaks. He paid little attention to all of them, nodding when it seemed like he was being spoken to or making throaty noises of agreement, all the while wishing he were anywhere else, with anyone else.

  Her body came to mind first—her small firm breasts, her indented waist and softly rounded hips, the way she’d clung to him while he’d driven into her over and over again. Then her face—her oddly enchanting eyes, hooded with lust, her plump lips parted as she tried desperately to catch her breath.

  “William?”

  And her voice. Soft, lightly accented—

  “William?”

  “Jesus, William.”

  Will’s eyes slanted left, meeting Bryan’s. “What?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably. He was rock hard now, but surrounded by his family. Great.

  Bryan shook his head in obvious annoyance. “I asked if you’ll be attending Grace’s charity gala next month.”

  Once again, all eyes were on him. He wanted to laugh. “Charity gala” was merely a pretty title used to dress up what was essentially only a party where the wealthy came to show off the latest fashions for the tabloids, get drunk, and throw their money around, every last one of them only trying to outdo the other.

  “Of course,” he said smoothly before popping another hors d'oeuvre in his mouth. With a mouthful of food, he gave his sister a toothy grin. “I’ll be there. Anything for you, big sis.”

  Elise beamed at him while Grace’s features crinkled in disdain. His sister knew that he would rather be anywhere other than at her charity event. Sad but true, there was no love lost between him and his siblings. As much as Will had tried as a child to befriend them, their age gaps and personal preferences regarding money and status had always kept them miles apart. Now, it was just too late for them. Everyone had settled into their own separate lives, only bothering with one another when they were called upon by their parents.

  An hour later, when he was finally able to make his escape, he bounded from the house as fast as he could, not bothering to retrieve his coat. Although he did pause once, just outside the door, where the house numbers 6-6-9 were mounted.

  Flipping the nine upside down, he turned around and headed to his car.

  Chapter Five

  I loved grocery shopping. It had always been one of my favorite things to do. It was my time to escape, to get away from the confusion that was my home life. To get away from all the troubles that haunted me. I was in a different city, and yet grocery shopping still held the same therapeutic quality that it always had. Here, in the grocery store, I could get lost amongst the aisles. Row after row of food and kitchen staples, of detergents and milk, here I was just another woman—possibly a wife or a mother, someone’s girlfriend or alone, it didn’t matter. I was no one here, and yet everyone, all at the same time.

  I pushed the small cart along, grabbing several cans of soup off the shelf, tossing them into my cart and continuing on. The song playing over the speaker system was upbeat for a supermarket—perhaps too upbeat, because it was reminding me of the club, and of Will. Suddenly, I found myself smiling.

  It had been so out of character for me. I’d never been the sort of woman to have a one-night stand. I was shy and quiet Mila. Scared of my own shadow, and with good reason. But something had happened with Will, something had changed inside of me, and for some inexplicable reason I had brought him home with me.

  I grinned again, reaching for laundry detergent. I could still smell him on my sheets—his musky cologne, his hair, his body… I hated that I had to wash that away, almost like I was washing away the memory. But I wouldn’t; I would keep it with me forever. That one night of freedom.

  No longer did I feel cheap or used. Once my head had cleared and my hangover had gone, I’d been able to see it for it really was. If men could have one-night stands and feel proud, then so could women—so could I. And I was proud. Our night together had been amazing, and though it hurt that he’d left without a word, I knew it had been for the best.

  Grabbing a large carton of milk, I placed it in the cart, and then made my way to the vegetable aisle and began loading the cart with onions, tomatoes, and carrots, grinning as I bagged the carrots. They were long and thick and reminded me of…

  Laughing, I tossed them in the cart as well and continued to smile all the way to the checkout.

  * * *

  Back at my apartment, I set to putting the groceries away and then on to chopping vegetables in preparation for dinner. I clicked the television on as I chopped, flicking to the news channel, as I always did. It was more of the same, and with a smile I turned it off.

  Each week in New York, I could feel myself relaxing further, settling into this new life I had created for myself. Yes, I was still hiding—I would always be hiding—only I wasn’t nearly as terrified as I used to be. I felt as safe I could feel in my position.

  Tossing everything into a pan, I set the burner to simmer and placed a lid on top before heading into my bedroom to strip the bedding. I pulled off the sheets, smirking at the memories of me and Will, our bodies wound together. Taking a seat on the mattress, I reached to my bedside table and fingered his note. I had been staring at it since yesterday, still wondering about it.

  On one hand, he had left me his number, leaving me to assume that maybe he did want me to call. But then on the other hand, he had left while I was still asleep, giving me the impression that his note had simply been a courtesy and nothing more. If he had really wanted me to call, he would have left more than his number. Or he wouldn’t have left at all—at least not before waking me.

  Sighing, I shook my head, coming to the same conclusion I’d come to a hundred times already—it had been a onetime thing and nothing more. Shoving the sliver of paper beneath a book, I began stripping the pillows free of their cases.

  Holding up one pillowcase, I brought it to my nose, breathing in Will’s scent and holding it there, relishing in the memories for just a few moments more. Grinning, I began stuffing the pillow back inside, deciding to wash this particular case tomorrow. I’d had the most amazing dreams last night—dreams that weren’t filled with worry and fear, the scent of Will washing away my usual nightmares. Was it such a bad thing to want to hold onto that for just one more night?

  “Mila?” Nikki called out, and the front door slammed. “You here?”

  Standing up and grabbing the rest of the bedding, I headed out into the hall. “Here,” I called. Spotting the bin in the hall, I tossed the la
undry away, along with all thoughts of Will, and went to greet her.

  * * *

  Will brought his glass to his lips and took a healthy swig. He didn’t normally drink while he was working, but it had been an exceptionally shitty day. His mother had called earlier and an argument had ensued. Afterward, he’d come to INFINITY, holed up in his office, and been there ever since.

  Apparently his presence at brunch had only succeeded in reminding his father just how absent he was from the family business. His mother had just recently stopped nagging him to put his “silly nightclubs” behind him, only to start up once again.

  An ultimatum was brewing; Will could feel it, and he didn’t much care for ultimatums from anyone. Nor would he feel obliged to back down if he was given one. If nothing else, stubbornness was the one thing he had in common with his father.

  Taking another swig of his drink, he heard his cell begin to vibrate. Reaching across his desk, he grabbed it, checking the screen before answering.

  “What’s up, Richard?”

  “Sir?”

  “For the last damn time, cut the ‘sir’ shit!”

  “But sir…”

  Will started laughing. Richard had been originally hired by his mother when Will had been barely twenty-two and just out of college. He’d known immediately that he hadn’t wanted to join the family business, much to his father’s intense disapproval. And so, he’d taken his inheritance and put it all into opening up his first nightclub. He’d been dreaming up the idea the entire time he’d been studying business and finance. His clubs would be elite, luxurious, and indulgent. He knew the wealthy better than most, and knew exactly how to exploit them for profit.

  Upon hearing of his plans, his mother had hired Richard as his own personal security, for the sole purpose of keeping him safe. It had been amusing at the time, and to placate her he’d kept Richard on, using him as a personal driver more than anything else. And then as the years passed, with Richard being only a handful of years older than Will, they’d easily become less like chauffeur and chauffeured and more like friends.