Love Unspoken Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Sneak Preview-Break Even

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright © 2015 by Lisa De Jong

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Edited by Chelsea Kuhel

  Cover by Mae I Design

  Formatting by Formatting By KassiCoop

  THAT PICTURE BLAKE PAINTED me of my house at Christmas time—I set it in the corner of my room after he left. For the rest of that day—and the day after—I stayed curled in a ball staring at it as tears rolled down my cheeks.

  I fucked up. I made too many assumptions and read too much into Pierce’s words.

  Blake is not an angel, but he’s definitely not the person Pierce made him out to be. I can’t help but think about what this Christmas would have been like if I’d just waited at home for him. If he’d come in with the painting … how different that day would have been. Who does that for someone? Who spends all day painting a girl a picture of home when she can’t be there for Christmas?

  It would have been a turn in our relationship. Instead, I took the curve too fast, not watching where I was going, missing the turn all together.

  Somewhere along the way, the little game we liked to play turned into something more. Something a lot like love—a better love than I’ve ever felt before. And now it’s gone.

  I won’t get a chance to kiss him every morning.

  I won’t get to tell him I love him before bed.

  And I think what hurts the most is that I won’t get a chance to help him through the suffering. He needs someone, but it won’t be me—not after everything that has happened.

  Everything he told me about Alyssa plays over and over in my head. To think about what it must have been like for him to watch Alyssa change over the years. To watch her fall into such a dark hole that he couldn’t even see her anymore … at least not as the same person she used to be.

  And to have been the one who found her …

  I can’t imagine the weight of the guilt he feels every day that he wakes up without her. I wonder if certain places or things remind him of her. I wonder if he sees any of her in me.

  Are we different? Are we the same? And if we are, would he still feel the same way about me if I wasn’t.

  It’s not his fault … it’s not hers either.

  I brought back all the emotions he’s been trying to bury. Not only that, but I threw them in his face in the worst way possible. He was doing the best he could for me, and all I did was doubt him.

  He ran because of me, and now all I have left is a picture of home. It’s beautiful—it’s a memory to keep for years, but he missed something when he painted it: he’s my home.

  I want to go home.

  “ARE YOU DONE WITH THE MOOD board for the 5th Avenue project?”

  I jump, not having heard him coming up behind me. He’s good at that. Too good.

  “Almost. I just need to decide what color to pull from the window coverings for the walls. Any suggestions?”

  His strong hand squeezes my shoulder. It might faze me if he hadn’t done it hundreds of times before. “Gray would be the safe choice, but if it were me, I’d cover the walls with wood planks. A rustic, aged gray that will balance the bold furnishings.”

  Ideas like that are how he got to where he is. “Do you think Wade will go for that?” I ask, remembering how hard the man is to please.

  “He might balk at first, but it’ll grow on him, especially when he realizes no other hotel in New York has anything like it.”

  I nod, picking a gray colored pencil from the table to make the idea come to life. That’s what my job is after all—turning a blank white board into something people will stare at … something so detailed they actually envision themselves in the space. It’s also a distraction from the proximity of Pierce’s body and his strong masculine scent.

  Even though it’s been a few months, I still can’t get the thoughts of the one night we spent in New York out of my head. It’s further complicated because I’m working on the New York boutique hotel—the same one Pierce didn’t want any part of.

  “How’s this?” I ask, shading between the dark gray lines.

  He leans in closer, his chest brushing against my shoulder. I shut my eyes on instinct but quickly recover. “What if we give it an illusion? Make the planks appear woven.”

  I hate and admire his ability to visualize what I can’t. Some day I hope that I’m half as good as he is at this. “I like it.”

  For a couple minutes, he just stands there watching me. It used to make me uncomfortable, but even this seems normal now. I try to pretend he’s not there, but his warm breath tickles the back of my neck. High buns may be in, but on days like this, they aren’t a good idea—not when your powerful, sexy boss is literally breathing down your neck. The one you kissed—almost slept with.

  “Did you have lunch?”

  I shake my head. “Not yet.” Unless Reece kidnaps me from my desk, I usually grab a protein bar from my drawer. Attacking the cafeteria alone is like wandering aimlessly into a high school dance without a date.

  “Come with me.”

  I don’t answer right away. I can’t. My mind is in a constant tug-of-war with my heart. I just … I want him still. After the pain, the months of silence … I want him. As long as I remember him, he’ll always be a part of me.

  “Don’t let him take you down with him. You’re better than that … you’re better than him,” he says softly, his warm breath hitting the back of my neck yet again.

  “It’s not about him. It’s—”

  “Then have lunch with me.”

  My teeth grind together in an angry rhythm to keep my emotions at bay. Pierce painted Blake as a monster when he’s not even close, and a part of me hasn’t forgiven him for that. “I need to finish this.”

  He pulls the pencil from between my fingers. “If it makes you feel better, we’ll discuss the project over a sandwich.”

  Blake’s been gone for almost six months, and I blame Pierce. I blame him when I should blame myself. I should have trusted him. I knew him better than to make assumptions.

&
nbsp; “Fine, I’ll take a short lunch then I have to get back to it.”

  “Don’t be that way, Lila. Have you done anything outside these cubicle walls since you started on this project?” he asks, crossing his arms over his strong chest.

  I pull my sweater from the back of my chair and slip it on. “No reason to.”

  “It’s called inspiration, Lila.”

  He walks. I stay close behind, drawing the eyes of everyone we pass.

  “There’s enough going on in my head. I don’t need to add to it,” I mumble, watching his expensive leather shoes to avoid the stares.

  The elevator opens, and five sets of eyes stare at us. Being Pierce Stanley’s friend sucks sometimes. He walks to one corner, and the group automatically clears to the other.

  As soon as the door closes, he leans into me. “I liked the old Lila better.”

  So did I, I think.

  “She’s still here,” I whisper, half-heartedly.

  “I know,” he replies. “We just have to find her.”

  I don’t have an answer for that. I know she’s still in me. Who I used to be is part of my history—she’s not going anywhere. She’s just buried under a heavy pile of heartbreak.

  I fall hard.

  I love harder.

  Blake left, and when he did, he took a piece of me with him. I’ve tried to get the old Lila back the last few months but it’s as if I can’t see anything in front of me … not when I can’t stop thinking about what I once had.

  Pierce nudges my shoulder. “We can get off now.”

  Shaking my head, I come out of the fog. I’ve been caught up in it so much lately that I don’t know what it’s like to just be.

  We walk side by side to the little café I’ve gone to with Reece before.

  “I didn’t think people came here for business meetings,” I say as I walk through the door he holds open for me.

  I look back. He smiles. “I left business back at the office.”

  Damn him.

  “This should be quick then,” I chide as we walk up to the counter.

  I order a club sandwich and a bottle of water. He gets the same with a cup of soup and follows me to a small table in the back corner. My heart beats faster than usual. Pierce pushes me. My friends push me. Life is easier when I can hide away inside my own head. I’ve done a good job of it.

  “Actually, I do have one piece of business,” he announces after enjoying the first bite of his soup. “I talked to Wade earlier.”

  “I’m sorry I missed it,” I reply, sarcastically, twisting the cap off my water.

  He laughs, scrubbing his hand over his jaw. “You almost make that sound believable.” He pauses, some of the playfulness from earlier disappearing. “He wants us in New York next week for a few days to meet with his team.”

  Thoughts of the last time we were in New York flash through my mind, and they have nothing to do with Wade. New York City will never be just a place to me; it’s a page in life’s scrapbook.

  “And if we don’t?”

  “That’s not an option.”

  Great. “I don’t know if I can have the mood board done by then.”

  “If I asked you to, you’d have it done this afternoon.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but I think better of it. He’s right … always. “What days are you thinking?”

  “Leave Monday. Come home Thursday afternoon.”

  “Why so long?”

  He shrugs. “We have a scheduled meeting with him late Monday afternoon then he’s hosting a meet and greet for everyone Tuesday evening. This is Wade’s new baby; failure is never an option for him.”

  “I still don’t get why you even want to work with him.”

  He leans in, his bright eyes just inches from mine. “If I only worked with people I like, you wouldn’t have a job. Getting to where I’m at required a lot of sacrifices, and my sanity happens to be one of them.”

  ‘Do you ever get bored? I mean … you’ve accomplished so much. Have you reached a point where you feel like you have enough? I’d think at some point the success would give you the power to retain your sanity. Be more picky about the projects you take on.”

  “You’re missing the point. Money is nice, but I don’t do this for the money; I do it for the challenge. I want to be the best,” he says, taking another spoonful of the steamy broth.

  “I think you’re already there,” I say quietly. In the six months I’ve been working with him, I’ve been captured by his brilliance. And through every step of the way, he’s been a steady force. If he’s stressed, I never see it.

  “There is one challenge I haven’t completed. It’s not over yet, and I’m not going to give up.”

  I pull my water to my lips, sipping it slowly. He says little things like this sometimes when we’re alone. He’s not afraid to show his cards, but I’m not ready to let him see mine … or to even play the game.

  “I think we should get back to the office, especially if I have to complete the board by next week,” I say, standing to dump my mostly uneaten sandwich in the garbage.

  “Why do you do that?” he asks, sneaking up behind me.

  I keep walking. “Do what?”

  “Run. Why do you keep running from me?”

  I ignore him until we’re outside, away from the crowd. “Because you’re the one who helped tie the rope around my heart and squeeze it until it was broken in two. If you would have been more honest with me about what happened with Alyssa, he’d still be here.”

  He presses his hand against my back, guiding me down the street. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say it.”

  “That’s it,” I say, spinning on my heels to face him. “What the fuck do you want from me, Pierce? Is there a mass conspiracy amongst men to make my life a living hell?” I attempt to keep my voice low, but the rage within me makes that almost impossible.

  The asshole actually smiles. “No, but if we’re ever going to move forward, you have to let out that anger. This is a nice start.”

  I point my finger at him. “I swear, Pierce, if you weren’t my boss, I’d have some very choice words for you right now.”

  “Keep it coming.” He smiles again.

  Without another word, I spin around and hurry back into the office building. If he talks, I don’t hear him. If he walks closely, I don’t feel him.

  FOR THE REST OF THE DAY, I do a good job avoiding Pierce. He must have gotten the point because he sent his secretary over with my flight itinerary for next week. He’s pretty official for someone with a private jet.

  Reece comes around the corner as I’m pulling my purse over my shoulder. “What’s the plan for this weekend?”

  “Same old.” I smile, but it’s with sadness. Rainbows only form after rainstorms if the sun shines. I’ve lived in the clouds for far too long to even believe in the rainbows.

  “Why don’t we go hang out at Charlie’s tonight? Dana is working, right?”

  Truth is, I hide out there some days after work when I know Dana isn’t working. Charlie saves a seat at the end of the bar just for me. He keeps the drinks coming until I’ve had enough, and then he calls a cab to take me home.

  Sometimes when things get really bad, I just need familiarity. Charlie’s gives me that.

  “I’ll join you for a drink or two then I have to go.”

  She shrugs, a huge smile pulling at her lips. “I’ll take it.”

  “Train or taxi?” I ask, starting toward the elevator.

  “Taxi, please. I don’t feel like dealing with the crowd.”

  “Bad day?”

  She groans, pushing the button for the first floor. “I spent all day drawing and redrawing the same floor of a twenty-two story office building. The rooms were too big, then too small, then the asshole forgot to tell me about the conference rooms that were supposed to be at each corner.”

  “Did you get it done?”

  She laughs sarcastically. “That’s a big no. I’m going to work on it this weekend, and hopef
ully it will be in an acceptable state by Monday. Then, I only have twenty-one floors to go. Yay me!”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I have to present the board I’ve been working on in New York next week. Thinking about it makes me want to vomit, so it’s probably a good thing we’re drinking tonight. Make sure I drink just enough to forget about it, will you?”

  We hail a taxi and continue complaining about our upcoming week as it drives through rush hour traffic, moving only a few feet between stops. It would be annoying if I was alone, but the company makes it tolerable.

  “If you want to get out of going to New York, I’ll gladly take your place,” she remarks as we pull in front of Charlie’s.

  “Would you give up your baby, Reece?”

  She lifts a brow. “That’s an odd question since I don’t have a baby and all. Or even a man to make a baby with.”

  “You’re missing the point.”

  “It’s the end of a very long week. I’m not in the mood to read between the lines.”

  “Point taken,” I say, handing the driver some cash before climbing out of the car. “What I was trying to say is I’ve put so much into this project that I’m not willing to give it up … not for anything. From beginning to end, it’s been mine.”

  “Ah, well, I can’t say I’ve fallen in love with my current project yet, so I’d gladly give it up.”

  We walk into Charlie’s, taking in the usual Friday crowd. It hasn’t changed much. Heads still turn when I walk in. It’s hard to escape when the ratio is ten men to each woman. They haven’t quite figured out that they have a ten percent chance of getting laid on a good night.

  “Hey, pretty ladies. Are you looking for a place to sit?” asks one of the regulars at the bar as we walk by. He’s harmless enough, but I learned when I worked here that it’s best to ignore him.