Home Sweet Home

 Six months later.

  Emily drifted slowly from a lovely languorous sleep, a deep sense of well-being seeping into her consciousness, her body uncurling and stretching. She lifted her arms over her head, arched her back

And opened her eyes. She touched the space beside her realizing he was gone, so she sat up, then glanced at the bedside digital clock; it was past seven, and she had to get to work. She hurled off the bedclothes, leaped out of bed, and headed for a door, which stood ajar and led to an enormous bathroom. Emily took a warm shower and just in time she was dressed up. A few moments later she took the elevator in the living room down from the penthouse to the garage. Fastening her wrist watch she got to her car and drove out of the building to the hospital.

 Soon she drove into the hospital's basement garage, parked, and pulled out a fresh white coat from the hanger in the backseat along with black leather stiletto heels. She put them on and clipped on her doctor's ID and headed for the elevator.

"Doctor Decker! Your attention is needed in the ER immediately!" A nurse said as Emily got to her office. Quickly she rushed out to where her attention was needed: a case of an elderly woman with a fatal heat stroke, a teenager who'd likely never walk again after stealing his father's car and crashing into a dump truck, cracking several vertebrae and injuring his spinal cord. Plus the more usual injuries. Everything from an accidental poisoning of a toddler from a carelessly left can of drain cleaner to an assortment of broken limbs.

 Then there was a woman they'd brought in, half-dead from a beating at the hands of her husband. She had several broken ribs and a fractured skull, first they had to stop the internal bleeding and reduce the swelling in her brain. After hours and hours of working finally she had her break.

 Emily slapped down on her office chair with a sigh staring at the files scattered all over her table. Memories of last night flooded through her mind.

Her vaginal muscles instantly squinched, recalling the incredible pleasure of one amazing climax after another. This has been going on for the past four months now, she once called it a one-time thing, but it was more like an affair now. A bad rash she desires to keep.

 Suddenly a knock on her door interrupted her muse.

 "Yes! Come in."

 It was the janitor, carrying a large banquet of flowers in his arms. Beautiful roses, of course, she loved roses, they were her favorite.

 "Doctor Decker, this came in for you while you were in the ER," he said setting it on her table.

 "Oh, alright, thank you." She said and he left her office. She savored the sweet scent of the roses, looking at the beautiful banquet, there was a card attached to it. She opened it and read it: of course, it was him. A smile curved her lips and the office phone rang.

 "Hello, Jack?" she place the telephone on her ear and her eyes widened at what she heard. "What… I mean—wow, um… you're coming home? That's great." She chuckled nervously.

 "I thought you said you weren't coming till another month?" She scoffed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Of course I am, you have no idea how excited I am…"

 After she dropped the call, she stood up and paced the room nervously. Now what? She asked herself.

 Bold stone international: a developing and engineering company, sent a representative like they said, Miss Alice Grimes. She walked into the lobby and she sighted him where he stood, Forcing her legs to move, she walked towards him, her briefcase in One hand... The golden sheen of his skin betrayed his British heritage and the soft fabric of his Casual shirt clung to shoulders that were wide and powerful. Even without the billions, he would surely attract any woman. His hair was jet-black and long layered swept back from a face that was as hard as it was handsome. "It's a pleasure to meet You, Mr. Davis."

Kieran's mouth tightened and his eyes gleamed with impatience. "This isn't a social visit, Miss Grimes. I don't want or expect polite, I don't do small talk or pleasantries. I don't care about the Weather or the nature of your journey. If you find that approach to business challenges, then you'd better leave now."

And a good afternoon to you, too, she thought, trying to hide her mounting dismay.

 Suddenly she wanted to do precisely as he suggested. Staring into those deadly, green eyes, she wanted to leave. But she couldn't leave. She had a job to do. People depend on her. Now she had to convince him in trusting their company to renovate his hotel, the billionaire isn't one easy one to convince, especially when he had loads of choices.

 "Well we can do all of this in less than a month, all the errors you complained about will be corrected," she said quickly, hoping that he couldn't see that her legs were shaking. "I have all the plans and documents here in my briefcase. Everything you'll need to help you make a decision."

"I've already made a decision. My answer is no." His jaw was covered in neat faded beards and she watched as a muscle flickered in his temple.

"But you made that decision before you had a chance to talk to me… those errors can be corrected as I said."

She wiped a damp hand over her skirt, refusing to allow him to squash her natural optimism. "I was hoping that once I've explained all we've ruled out, you might rethink."

 "Why would I do that?"

 "We are more reliable and yet we provide our customers with very quality and best results," She watched his face hopefully, searching for something—anything—that might indicate that he was receptive to further negotiation on the topic. Anything that hadn't wasted her time coming here.

 But he didn't answer. He gave her no reassurance or encouragement. No hope at all. No answering smile. And it was impossible to know what he was thinking because his face revealed none of his thoughts.

 "You have nothing interesting to offer that could convince me…" He said nonchalantly and pointed at the door. "You can take your leave, I'll let your director know how your presence made no difference, even though he promised otherwise." He sucked his teeth as his assistant approached.

 "Sir," Victor said. "The flowers have been delivered—"

 "Good," Kieran said firmly.

 Did she just hear… flowers, so a man this means could send someone flowers? she thought. For a moment she just stood there, looking at him.

 "We are done here, Miss Grimes." He said ignoring her Presence as his assistant told him something about a call.

 "Don't bully me, Mr. Davis." Her voice was husky and shook slightly but she forced herself to carry on speaking. "Why would they send me here if you weren't even interested, all my boss told me was you didn't agree with the plan my team… put together. You can tell me there was an error in my work, but don't try and intimidate me. Do you want Bold stone or not?"

 Impressed by the boldness, he turned to look at her, Now he was interested. "Do I intimidate you?"

She was willing to bet he scared everyone he met, but she was wrong, he only acted this way around the business. "I think you could at least try to be a little more friendly."

 "Friendly?" his voice was faintly mocking, "you want me to be friendly?" he raised a brow and stared at her for a minute and said. "Tell your people to start work tomorrow, you've got the contract." Then he left the lobby to the elevator with his assistant.

 Wonderstruck, she froze for a few seconds. What just happened? She asked herself. "I got the contract," she muttered with a wide grin.

 "Vic, as you were saying?" Kieran asked as they went up to his office in the elevator.

 "Yes sir, a call reminder from Mr. Zach from Eye's reach co. About their meeting at Da' vison Inc. on Thursday… and The Bishop magazine wanted to know if their photoshoot is still on with you,"

 "Cancel the meeting with Eye's reach on Wednesday, I don't want to hear from Mr. Zachary again…" he said as the elevator chimed and the door opened. "And tell The Bishops that, they are still in line. Let them know we are taking the shoots at my house."

 "And sir," Vic added before he steps into his office, "Mr. Baxter called."

 Kieran stopped. "Jackson Baxter? ... What did he say?"

 "He said he'd call back when you are available."

 "Ok … go and get the driver ready to leave, I'm not staying at the hotel tonight," Kieran said, and immediately Victor departed, he went into his office. For the past six months, he'd arrived, he had been staying at his hotel suite or the penthouse, it was about time he stepped foot in the place he use to call home. He poured himself a glass of scotch and pulled out his cell phone to call Jackson.

 Jackson Baxter is Kieran's friend forever. But the last six years have been trying for both of them, Jackson's bankruptcy, and his accident. Luckily Jackson recovered, last he heard, he started a thriving nightclub here in Miami and his coffee company was going international. But Kieran didn't get over the accident six years ago, well he did physically but it crashed him emotionally; his BMW Z4 sports convertible was crushed by a drunk SUV driver at max speed, it was a miracle he walked out alive with just a few scratches, but not Sarah, she died on the spot. He drifted after that accident, and that was when he had to leave Miami for London. It was a good thing Jackson was back on track and better, he'd even been at the club a few times while Jackson was away, and he was impressed with how the place was running.

 The phone rang a few times, then Kieran answered it.

 "Da' vision!" Jackson said over the phone cheerfully and they greeted.

 "Good trip, when did you arrive?" They had a lot of catching up to do and speaking on phone wasn't good enough, so Jackson invited him to the club.

 "Sure, I'll be there," Kieran said. "Home sweet home Jacky." They laughed and hung up the phone. Still smiling Kieran took a sip of his scotch, and held it in his mouth for a bit before swallowing, he stepped closer to the window to enjoy the beautiful view of the city and the bay, it was spectacular.

 He still had nightmares about the accident sometimes, and he wouldn't stop blaming himself either, only if he hadn't picked up an argument with her about something stupid, he would have seen the SUV coming and she'd still be alive.

 With a grunt, he tossed the glass across the room angrily, and it shattered into pieces against the tiled floor. He has been trying to pretend everything was fine, but it wasn't.

 "Sir, the car is ready for you," Vic said looking at the shattered glass on the floor.

 "Alright," Kieran picked up his coat and walked past Victor to the door. "Make sure everything is in order here tomorrow, I won't be coming here till noon." He said over his shoulder as he waited for the elevator door to open.

 "Goodnight sir," Victor said as the elevator door closed and took Kieran down to the lobby. He nodded goodnight to a few people as he passed through the lobby and out the front to where the convoy waited for him. His bodyguard opened the door to the Range Rover in the middle, and he slipped in.

 The cars lined out to the road and headed for his modern glass mansion on star island. He bought the place a year after he met Sarah, then she moved in with him. They spent two wonderful years together before the accident, he had plans for them. He wanted to build a family with her, he loved her, and she was the only one he'd planned to be with. And when she died, it all became meaningless, everything in the house reminded him of her, her smell clung everywhere, and the fact that he felt responsible for her death, he couldn't take it anymore, so he left.

 Still, it didn't make it any better. The press was all over him for a while, trying to make headlines with whatever moves he made.

   Sarah was a best-selling author and she had also written dozens of Oscar-winning movies and Tv shows, and their relationship was also public enough, they attended every event together. And when she died, the media went crazy, they wanted every detail on how he was taking it, but all they got for their headlines were just how he started keeping his beards and hair long, and how less he was seen in public after the tragic incident. Also how he kept the rank of being one of the top billionaires.

 The cars drove past the stunning pillared entrance to the 30,000 square feet mansion. Six years, he thought. That was the last time he set foot here, of course, he paid every staff at the house regularly to keep up the maintenance, and it looked as good as new.

 And the spectacular waterfront overlooking Biscayne bay, how he missed the view.

 The Steward opened the large hand-crafted door and he stepped inside. He had almost forgotten what it smelt like, he stood there for a minute looking around; the lights were on and the smell of fresh pie filled his senses.

 He sniffed and gave the Steward a questioning look.

 "Oh, I heard you were coming, so I asked them to prepare you, dinner sir." He explained.

 "that won't be necessary, I'm stuffed." With a hand in his pocket, he took the stairs and strolled through a cozy living room then to the study, he stared at the large reading table and he could almost hear Sarah's giggle from most nights he'd distract her from working with the kisses he'd place on her neck.

 "Home sweet home," he muttered and went straight to the bedroom they shared. There was just really none of her belongings left in the house, except the memories they'd made.