Chapter 30 Collins
Collins
Another room opened up at the hotel, and I left Mia in the suite, in favor of a room to myself where I wouldn’t have to share a bed with a woman who tempted me to my very core. I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of the week fighting the urge to jump her each night. Especially since I knew she’d give in to me. She’d give me everything, if I only asked. It’d always been that way.
My meetings with Pierre and his associates went better than expected, so I should be returning on a high, but as Mia and I arrive home, feelings of sadness stir inside me.
Tatianna is in the kitchen when we arrive. She squeals and runs to me, throwing her arms around my neck dramatically, and I can’t help but feel it’s all for show, rather than a genuine display of affection.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.
“Missed you,” she says, air kissing my cheek.
I can’t even muster the words back to her. My eyes follow Mia’s movements. She turns away from us, but not before I catch a hint of sadness in her eyes. She heads to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water.
“Well, how was it? Paris, right?” she asks.
“How was New York?” I ask, my tone guarded.
She waves a dismissive hand, and I wonder if she’s going to lie. “Flaky photographer canceled. I stayed home.”
“You should have told me. You could have come with.” The words taste false in my mouth, and I know they’re all wrong. Mia was the perfect companion. I just want to hear Tatianna admit that she wasn’t the least bit concerned with me – she was out clubbing with God knows who.
She waves me off again. “I’m sure Mia filled my role nicely.” She turns to Mia. “Did you take care of my man?”
Mia’s eyes widen and she nods. “I did.” Her eyes find mine briefly, and then stray down to the floor.
Fuck. Mia isn’t good at lying. She’s just not that type of person. And now I feel like even more of an asshole because not only did I use her in Paris to fulfill my own needs, but now I’ve put her in a situation where she feels she has to lie.
“The trip went well,” I say, trying to smooth the awkward moment over.
Mia glances up again, her gaze finding Tatianna’s. “Collins was brilliant. He won over Pierre and Adele almost immediately.”
“You were amazing,” I correct her.
“Wait, who are Pierre and Adele?” Tatianna asks.
Mia’s brows pinch together. “Pierre Ducharme, the CEO of Ducharme Industries…the entire reason for the trip.” She seems shocked that Tatianna wouldn’t know this information, since it was so important to me.
Tatianna nods. “Oh. Right. So, was it all work or did you guys have some fun?”
Mia laughs nervously. “We had fun. Collins made sure it was perfect for me.”
I bite down, my jaw clenching as memories of Mia’s naked, curvy body dance through my brain, her moan of satisfaction when she tasted a real croque-monsieur for the first time, the mischievous twinkle in her eyes when she’d had too much wine, her hearty laugh when I took her to the top of the Eiffel Tower.
I exchange a meaningful look with Mia, as if to communicate my pleasure that she was the one with me. Tatianna’s gaze moves between me and Mia and her brow furrows as if she’s just solved a challenging equation. I see the exact moment something snaps in her. Her hands fly to her hips and her gaze narrows on Mia.
“What exactly has been going on here?” Tatianna questions Mia, her tone filled with icy venom.
Mia’s mouth snaps shut, and she looks to me, desperate, her eyes wide and wild.
Not getting anything out of Mia, Tatianna turns to me. “Have you been fucking her?” she shrieks.
I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, but I don’t answer right away. I just look at the woman I’ve spent the last three years with and wonder where all the time went. I feel like I’ve built more memories, shared more laughs with Mia in one week than I have with Tatianna in three years.
Tatianna drops her head to look at the floor, and makes a sound of annoyed frustration. When she lifts her head, she’s laughing. “You’re fucking crazy to choose that over this.” She motions between her and Mia-noting the obvious differences in their physiques. Tatianna is tall and willowy, while Mia is curvy and built for a man’s pleasure.
“I haven’t been fucking her, as you so delicately put it. But Mia and I…” I pause and draw a breath, searching for the right words. “We need to talk, Tatianna.”
“Oh, hell no,” Tatianna roars. “How dare you choose this chubby, plain loser over me?” She spits the words like an accusation.
Mia shrinks back toward the wall, hugging her arms around herself and her eyes fill with tears. I step between the two women. “Stop,” I say, my voice cutting off Tatianna’s. I place my hand on Mia’s cheek and she leans into my touch. I want to tell her it will all be okay, but I let my hand falls away, then I face Tatianna. “No one speaks to Mia that way.” I can’t help but draw a parallel between this moment and the first day I met Mia. I stood up for her then too. It turns out, it’s instinctual for me. I won’t let anyone hurt her.
“It’s over, Tatianna. We’re done. I want you gone by tonight.”
“You’re a fucking asshole,” she says.
“That may be, but we both know this relationship isn’t going anywhere. It isn’t leading toward anything. It’s time for us to move on.”
“Sorry, but I’ll never be a soccer mom if that’s what you’re looking for. I thought we were on the same page,” she barks.
I shake my head, unwilling to answer. I don’t want to argue the finer points of our differences in front of Mia. It won’t accomplish anything, and I won’t change my mind. “I’ll have my assistant arrange for a moving company.”
“And where exactly am I supposed to go?” she asks.
Ah, there it is, the real reason she’s stayed with me all this time. I’ve provided her with a beautiful home, and extravagant lifestyle she could never afford on her own.
I want to tell her maybe the man she was with last Friday night will take care of her, but I know that tossing out that accusation won’t make any of this better. “I guess you have some things to figure out in the next few hours,” I say, instead.
She grabs her purse from the counter and storms past us, causing Mia to squeak in surprise.