Filthy Beautiful Forever Read online

  “I'm doing just fine, asshole. Worry about yourself,” he barks.

  Maybe he's right. There's no reason that he and Pace need to have all the fun. Might be nice to join in for once. And if anyone can bring that side out of me again, it'll be Mia.

  Hell, this should be interesting at the very least.

  “Okay thanks, man. I've gotta run.” I hang up wondering what the hell is going to happen next.

  Mia Fucking Monroe.

  Chapter Four

  Mia

  My eyes float over the room, taking it in. It’s much larger than a hotel room—the ones I’m used to anyway. This guestroom is almost the size of my old apartment. Three large windows stretch up towards the vaulted ceilings. There’s a walk in closet, a small oak desk and chair by one of the windows, and a seating area at the foot of the bed, with a loveseat covered in a purple floral pattern, and matching stuffed chair. I see why he calls it the purple room. It’s subtle, but most of the furnishings have hints of purple. I wonder if he remembers that it’s my favorite color. The thought makes me smile. But no, it would be silly for him to remember something so ridiculous, from so long ago.

  The bed must be a king. I’ve never slept in anything so big. I wonder if I actually could, or if I’ll spend the night getting lost in the expanse of it. At least it looks soft. So soft. The lavender duvet is as fluffy as a cloud, tempting me to run and jump into it. Instead, I head across the room and peek into the attached bath.

  It’s larger than any bathroom should be. There’s a double sink, a Jacuzzi tub, and a separate large shower with more showerheads than I'd know what to do with. It’s all so much that I feel my mouth actually fall open. If this is just a guest bedroom, what must the master bedroom be like?

  Collins’ family had always been well-off when we were growing up, but this is more than well-off, this is wealthy. I wonder if I had looked harder online, would I have found him on one of those richest men alive lists? It’s intimidating. I feel like I’ve stumbled across a new culture and don’t know the customs or the language. I tip toe across the room, careful not to disturb anything.

  I had no idea he would be this affluent. Of course Collins was a born entrepreneur. When we were six and most kids were opening lemonade stands, he figured out that the markup value on ice cream treats, combined with his cute-kid factor would put him ahead of the game and setup a weekend neighborhood ice cream stand.

  The local ice cream man didn’t have a chance, and Collins made bank. Not that he needed it. No, I’m not surprised he is doing so well. I'm proud. He always had this in him. I smile at the thought.

  I take another look around the room, and my eyes land on my huge suitcase. The one I packed with as many of my everyday things as I could, and a few very important items I didn’t want to cram in my parent’s small storage space.

  Collins invited me to stay for a few days, so I might as well unpack. I hoist my suitcase up on the bed, unzip the front pouch, and pull out my old childhood scrapbook, flipping it open to the first page where I’d long ago glued the cover of a bridal magazine. The one Collins had found that fateful day hidden under my mattress.

  I run my fingers over the crinkled paper, and smile as I remember the promise we’d made. It all started because of this very magazine. I’d found it at my babysitter’s house, and loved it because it had a purple wedding dress on the cover. I never understood why brides always wore white and thought this elegant lavender gown was the very dress I would wear when I got married. I liked it so much that my babysitter let me take the magazine home. I’d been hiding it under my mattress, and Collins found it one day when we were playing in my room.

  “Who’s getting married?” he’d asked, wide eyed.

  I snatched it away from him, trying to hide it a little too late. We might have been best friends, but he was still going through his all girls have cooties phase. Something I was normally immune from, but still, there were certain things I kept to myself. Or tried to. “I am,” I proclaimed in the strongest voice I could. Still, I felt myself blush.

  Collins wrinkled his nose and furrowed his brow in that way that made a small crinkle over one eyebrow. “No way.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Not today. But one day.”

  “I’ll never get married. That’s gross.” His eyes widened.

  “Yes you will. Everyone does.”

  “Okay, fine. But if I have to marry someone, I'm gonna marry you.” He poked me in the arm with his finger hard enough that it hurt, just a little.

  It wasn’t a romantic candle lit dinner with champagne and get down on one knee type of proposal, but at the age of ten, it was all I needed. And I wouldn’t trade that memory for anything.

  In my bedroom that day, we deliberated and it evolved into a promise that if neither of us had married by the time we were thirty, we’d married each other.

  Pinky swear.

  I’d turned thirty a few months ago, and the promise had been lurking in the back of my mind ever since. But did that mean I actually needed to spend the last few dollars I had running across country to see Collins? It seemed like a good idea at the time, but the more I analyze it now, the sillier the whole thing seems.

  I pull out my phone and dial my friend Leila’s number.

  “Are you really there? I mean actually in LA,” she says by way of greeting.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “I can’t believe you went, girl. You are crazy,” she shrieks in her usual over excited tone.

  “You’re the one who said I should go,” I say.

  “So? We were drinking. Besides, I was 100% kidding and you know that.” I think back to when we met for drinks just after I was fired. We were talking over my options, or lack of options. I was about to get evicted for non-payment of rent. She offered me her sofa in the tiny one bedroom she shared with her husband and newborn. No thank you. Then suggested my parents’ place, which was even smaller than hers. The next thing out of her mouth was a joke, “Maybe you should move to LA and marry that Collins guy.”

  She laughed. But I didn’t. The mention of my childhood love made my cheeks warm and my belly churn. It seemed like an option, one as good as any other. Maybe even better. Just the thought of seeing Collins again had been so enticing.

  But now that I was really here, I was questioning myself. “I know,” I say. “I shouldn’t have come. He’s got a live-in girlfriend, and she’s super beautiful.”

  “Mia, I’m sorry. But what did you expect?”

  My inner romantic knows exactly what I expected. He was going to open the door, recognize me at once, and we would be married the next day. “I know. It was childish of me to come.”

  “But you’re in his house? Does that mean he invited you to stay?”

  “For a few days.”

  “And he has a guest bedroom, or a couch or whatever?”

  I laugh. “It’s more like a guest suite. He’s doing really well. His house is amazing, Leila. He’s got so many guest rooms they name them. I’m in the Purple Room.”

  “Well, sounds like you might be okay there for a few days then. But remember—my couch is always open if you need a place to crash. And if things get weird there, I will find a way to loan you the money for a ticket home.”

  I know she means it. Leila’s a great friend, but there’s no way I’ll let them cut into their small savings to fly me home. Not with their newborn and all. “No you won’t. I’ll be fine,” I say.

  “The offer is there.”

  “Thank you.”

  We get off the phone, and I chew on my lip as I mull over my situation. When I told Collins what I was doing here, he seemed kind of stunned. Not that we ever really talked about it since we were interrupted by Tatianna’s arrival.

  There’s a knock at the door. “Mia, are you hungry?” Collins says through the door.

  I pull it open. He and Tatianna are there.

  “Sure.” And I absolutely am. The four-hour time difference means my stomach wants dinner yesterday.r />
  “Dinner’s ready. I asked the cook to set an extra plate for you.” He waves for me to follow them and I do. Collins and Tatianna walk next to each other, but manage to avoid physical contact and don’t say a word as we make our way down to the dining room. I wonder if this is how they normally are together, or if I’ve caused this icy tension. The Collins I knew loved to talk. Some days we’d spend the entire day taking turns telling stories. Sure there were times we’d been quiet, but usually it was because we were reading, or watching something, or even just tired.

  The silence between him and Tatianna seems different somehow. Not awkward exactly, but not comfortable either. It’s like they don’t have anything to say to each other, so they’ve just stopped talking. But surely there’s always something to talk about. In all the years Collins and I were friends, I don’t ever remember either one of us ever lacking in interesting things to say.

  Collins stops at a doorway and motions for me to enter. Having adjusted my expectations to assume everything is huge in this house, I am not disappointed by the size of the dining room. I follow Tatianna down to the far end of what might more aptly be called a dining hall.

  “Take a seat.” Collins points at one of the places made up at the end of a table long enough to seat twenty. I sit down and try not to gawk too much as I take in the two amazing crystal chandeliers that hang from above, elegantly illuminating the room. Collins takes the seat next to me, at the head of the table, and Tatianna seats herself on the other side of him and across from me. She barely takes her eyes off her phone as she pours herself some water.

  I turn to Collins, wondering if this is the way she usually is when they eat dinner, but he doesn’t seem to notice. I can’t help thinking that if I were dating someone as amazing as Collins, I wouldn’t be staring at my phone when he was around, I’d be gazing into his eyes.

  The food is already served and on the table. Collins picks up a bottle of wine and fills my glass before filling his own. He doesn’t offer any to Tatianna. In fact, she doesn’t even have a wine glass.

  Dinner is a baked chicken breast with grilled vegetables. Collins looks at it for a moment as if he’s psyching himself up for it, and then picks up his silverware and starts cutting the chicken into pieces.

  “When did you start liking poultry?” I ask as I cut into my own. I’ll eat almost anything, but Collins had always been a bit of a picky eater, and disliked pretty much all fowl. He’s more a red meat kind of guy. As I take my first bite, I notice Tatianna looking at him coolly, but not saying anything. Crap. Maybe I offended her. “Not that I don’t love it, I just meant...I guess we change with age, right?”

  Collins finishes chewing, and chases his bite down with wine, then says, “Tatianna doesn’t eat red meat, so we don’t really keep it in the house.” He looks as if he’s talking sadly about a battle he’s lost.

  I guess it makes sense if they live together, they must eat a lot of their meals together. But as I glance at her plate I notice she’s not even eating the same thing. Her plate is smaller, and piled with baby spinach and a small cherry tomato that’s been quartered and spread around the edge to give it color. I have to hide my shock. If she’s not even eating it, why should she care? It angers me that she would force her food preferences on him. Especially if they don’t even eat the same thing. Why does she feel the need to change him? He was perfect to start with.

  Collins eyes her plate, then looks up at her meaningfully, but doesn’t say anything.

  I wonder if he’s realizing how stupid it is, too. I stab a piece of chicken a bit harder than I need to with my fork, and take a bite. Chewing it, I mentally talk myself out of glaring at her throughout dinner. This is her house too after all.

  I take a deep breath and ask Collins more about his business as we eat. It’s a bit weird. I was always the numbers girl, and yet, here he is, the owner of an investment firm. Being a bit of a numbers geek, I prod him all evening with questions about the inner workings of it all.

  “Collins,” Tatianna jumps in while he takes a bite. “As fascinating as this is, I’m about finished, and I have to call my agent. You don’t mind if I leave you two, do you?” At this point, I realize she’s tuned out virtually the entire conversation. If her phone hadn’t been there to distract her, I wonder if she might rather count the individual pieces of spinach in her salad than talk about his work.

  “No, go ahead,” he says. He kisses her cheek as she kisses the air next to his. I look at his hard square jaw, and smooth tan skin. How could she not want to brush her lips against that jawline?

  “Nice meeting you, Mia,” she says glancing at me briefly before turning back to her phone and wandering off. She probably figures this is the last time she’s going to see me, and hell, maybe it is. Collins has a good life, a serious girlfriend, I can’t just come barging in.

  By dessert, I have a pretty good snapshot of how the money flows through an investment firm. Collins geeks out almost as much as me, and we lean over our chocolate lava cake as we talk about the inner-workings of his company. His eyes are vibrant as he talks about his business, and I can tell he really does love his work. The life in his eyes is something I haven’t seen in a long time, and it fills me with warm energy.

  When dinner is over, he walks me back up to my room, leaving me at the door.

  “I’ve got some business to attend to before bed, but we’ll be going out on the yacht tomorrow. I hope you’ll join us. I think you’d love it.”

  Just the idea of being on a boat with him brings images of that night back to me. I wonder if he’s thinking about it again, too.

  He looks down at me. We stand a foot apart, but there’s a desire in his eyes to move closer. To be alone with him on his yacht sounds delicious. I think of his perfectly built adult body taking command and riding me and feel a throb between my legs.

  I swallow, and remind myself that he invited me to go with him and his girlfriend. “That would be fun,” I say.

  He smiles and his eyes flit down my body briefly, making my cheeks flush. He didn’t look at Tatianna that way. In fact, during dinner they’d hardly exchanged a look, let alone talked to each other. I have to wonder if he’s happy with her. I mean he must be, they live together. But this evening at dinner, he didn’t seem happy, at least not with her.

  “Night,” he says.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  I close the door and my head is spinning. My pulse racing just from the thrill of being near him. I fall back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. He may not seem overly excited about the promise we made each other when we were ten, but he does seem genuinely happy to see me. It won’t hurt if I stay a few days. I roll over and dig in my bag—which is still on the mammoth bed—and pull out my laptop, opening it up.

  Maybe I can look for a job here. If he’s really with Tatianna, I can’t expect him to put me up forever. I need an exit strategy.

  Just in case.

  Chapter Five

  Collins

  I park my car in the marina lot and lead the way toward the docks. Tatianna's eyes are downcast on her phone, while Mia's are wide and her neck is craning to take in every ounce of her surroundings.

  “Oh wow, this is…” She chews on her lip, searching for the word.

  I know this is much different from how we grew up, but I don't want her to feel intimidated. “I have a thing for boats.” I grin at her and wait for the double meaning in my comment to hit. Her cheeks flush pink and my dick throbs eagerly at the memory of her tight little body. I'm thankful for the cover of my aviator-style sunglasses. “We'll have fun today,” I add, recovering.

  “Yes.” She swallows and glances at Tatianna, who is following closely behind us, but absorbed in something on her phone as she so often is lately.

  “This is her,” I say, pointing up ahead to where the sleek, white-hulled vessel rests in the water. She's big—but not obnoxiously so. Only seventy-feet, which is actually on the small side for a yacht. But she sleeps eight guests,
in four private cabins, which is plenty big for my recreational use.

  The staff has her all ready for us. The chrome fixtures have been polished and are sparkling in the sunlight, and I can see up on the main deck that the lounge chairs have been outfitted with pillows and towels. I offer Tatianna a hand and she climbs aboard. I glance back to see what's keeping Mia. She's still standing on the dock, her attention captured by something at the stern.

  “Mia?” I climb down the steps and go to her.

  She's staring at the purple cursive lettering I had painted at the stern, just above the swim platform.

  “You named your boat Gremlin?” she asks with astonishment in her voice.

  I shrug. “It seemed fitting.” When I bought my boat, I could think of no better name than after my friend who I shared so many good times with—one of the most significant happening on a boat. Her eyes widen and find mine as the meaning behind the name sinks in.

  “Come on.” I take her hand and lead her toward the stairs. “I want to show you around.”

  She squeezes my hand, and then follows me up on board.

  Every inch of the yacht seems to amaze her, and I love the giddy excitement she openly displays. It's refreshing. She seems to like the theater room with its big screen and comfy reclining loveseats the best. “The intent behind it is for rainy days, but we have so few of those in Southern California, that it's never been used. We mostly stay out on the deck,” I explain.

  “I'm sure you and Tatianna come and stay the night here just for the fun of it, sometimes, right? Movie and popcorn night. That would be fun.”

  My brow crinkles. “No, actually we've never done that.”

  Mia’s confusion is written all over her face.

  I decide to continue the tour. Showing her the bedrooms feels too intimate, especially given what happened between us the last time we were below deck together, so I merely point and continue walking.