Filthy Beautiful Forever(Filthy Beautiful Lies, #4)

Collins

I power down my laptop, and gather up my belongings from my desk. It’s Friday, time to start the weekend, and can’t wait to spend it with Mia. Dating Mia Monroe is an experience I was wholly unprepared for. She’s fun and carefree and easy going. Nothing like the Botoxed, uptight women I’ve been with since moving to LA.

Mia and I have been casually dating for the past two weeks. We’ve been to the ballet, made a trip to a world-renowned winery, and attended a designer’s first showing of a jewelry collection-during which, Mia actually yawned. It’s time to change up my game. This is Mia. My Mia. And tonight I’ve got something perfect planned. At least I hope I do.

Smiling to myself as I stroll toward the elevator, I say goodbye to a few dedicated employees who are still here after five o’clock on a Friday. There was an office-poll about my recent transformation. Apparently I look more rested, smile more often, and just seem happier. Shit, one brave soul even asked if I’d had work done, implying I’d gotten plastic surgery. They thought I was unaware of the whispering and quiet conversations had behind cubicle walls. But I wasn’t. In fact I was as curious about this transformation as they were. At first, they assumed my twenty-three-year-old supermodel girlfriend was responsible for the smile on my face. But then they’d seen Mia bring me lunch one day-a steak sandwich from my favorite deli-and realized I was no longer dating Tatianna. I didn’t say a word. I actually thought the whole thing was quite humorous. Besides, it was none of their damn business. I felt happy and ten years younger, and it wasn’t just the fantastic sex I was having. It was because Mia brought out the best in me. I grin as I pass by a particularly chatty administrative assistant. Raising one eyebrow, her gaze darts away from mine and she begins frantically typing on her keyboard. I have a feeling if I look closer, it’ll all be gibberish. “Good night, Miss Corrigan,” I say.

“Good night, sir,” she squeaks.

Chuckling to myself, I punch the button for the elevator that will take me to the underground parking garage. Picturing how the night’s events will go, I can’t help the satisfied grin that uncurls on my mouth. Mia is going to be beside herself when she sees what I have planned.

It’s also the night I’m going to tell her that I want her to officially move in with me-not just crash in a guest room with her things tucked away in a suitcase that she could tow away at a moment’s notice, but to move into my bedroom with me. Share my home with me. I’m excited as shit, and I know if I admitted any of this to my brothers, they’d accuse me of growing a vagina. But things beneath my trousers have never been better. In fact, I felt like a teenager again, growing hard at the mere thought of Mia-often at inopportune times, like in a staff meeting. I pull out my cell and text her.

I have something fun planned tonight. Dress casual.

She replies just as I’m settling into my car.

I can’t wait to see you. I’m leaving work now.

She’s begun working at a big law firm downtown in their accounting department, and she says she loves it. As long as she’s happy. Mia has taught me so much, most of which is that life is too damn short to spend it being unhappy.

After she fell asleep in my bed last night, I grabbed The Gremlin Files and sat with her old scrapbook in my lap, pouring through every photograph, and every doodled word. The pages were crinkled and worn and her soft, feminine scent clung to them. There was a picture of me and Mia, from years ago. She was missing her two front teeth, but smiling as big as she could at the camera. I was looking at her. The look on my face was pure joy. I stared at that picture for the longest time. I felt like that boy again, like I’d recaptured some special piece of my youth. A memory I hadn’t thought of in many years drifted into my head. It was my ninth birthday party, and after my mother sliced my birthday cake, I passed the biggest slice to Mia. My mother leaned over and kissed my cheek, and said, “you’re going to marry that girl someday.” Emotion like I hadn’t felt in years crawled up my throat, lodging a hard lump there. I’d closed the book and wandered back to bed with Mia, curling my body around hers, with a feeling I couldn’t describe for the life of me. Raw emotions over losing my mother were fresh in my mind as were my growing feelings for the woman in my arms. I awoke with a greater sense of purpose and clarity than I’d ever felt.

***Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Just tell me where we’re going,” Mia says, bouncing in her seat.

I glance over at her briefly, before returning my eyes to road. “Patience, little one.” I pat the top of her head.

I’d pulled my Jeep out of the garage tonight-a vehicle I hadn’t driven in months. The top is down and the salty ocean air is blowing through Mia’s chestnut hair as we cruise down the Pacific Coast Highway. She’s dressed in cutoff jean shorts, sandals and a peach-colored T-shirt. She looks cute and at least ten years younger than her thirty years. I have a ball-cap pulled over my eyes and am similarly dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. It feels damn nice to be out of the suit and tie I wear every day.

“Almost there,” I say, as I slow and pull off into a parking area. Mia’s eyes light up as she realizes where we’re going. “Have you been to the Santa Monica Pier before?” I ask.

“No,” she says, her eyes growing wide as she takes in the view.

“Come on, you’re going to love it.”