Hey friends, I hope you're well. I am though I'm extremely tired. Work has me by the throat most days and I haven't been able to do anything regarding fanfiction...not even reading other writers' stories. However, I think of you guys regularly and always hope that you are all okay. I want to thank you for your continued interest, patience and concern. I appreciate it.

I do not own Glee or the characters and I DO NOT OWN THE BILLIONAIRE'S EMBRACE.

SAM

I slept for ten hours that night. It was deep and dreamless; but it cleared the dark thoughts from my head. And I awoke feeling well-rested for the first time in several weeks, so much so, that I easily banged out a few hours of work, sitting at the table in my bathrobe with my coffee mug at my side.

A while later, after I had cleared my inbox, I allowed myself to consider the fact that Mercedes would be arriving for dinner in less than twelve hours.

Right here at my apartment!

At that, I took a quick look around... It wasn't dirty, but it wasn't as tidy as I would've liked. Shit! I should've scheduled the housekeeper to come this morning.

Oh well...

I spent some time loading the dishwasher and tossing a few pieces of dirty clothes in the hamper.

I realized that I was nervous. How absurd. I made grown men cry on a daily basis. Well, not daily, maybe once a month. But it was usually some incompetent executive who more than deserved it.

Disgusted with myself, I put a stop to my ridiculous fussing around and settled into my armchair with a novel I had been meaning to read since the summer.

After a few false starts, I was finally able to lose myself in the narrative, to the point that I lost track of time and only realized the afternoon was drawing to a close when the room grew too dark to continue reading.

I set my book aside and looked at my phone. It was already after 5 pm. Hell! I needed to get a start on dinner.

I turned on some music and got to work.

My intercom buzzed a few minutes after 7:00 just as dinner was finishing. Thank God.

With that under control, I checked my reflection in the mirror in the foyer while I waited for the elevator.

I had never been able to accurately evaluate my own appearance, but every strand of hair was in place, and I hadn't dripped any food on my shirt. Good enough.

The elevator doors slid open and Mercedes stepped out...

"Sorry I'm late," she said, unwinding the scarf around her neck.

"You're hardly late," I said. "Let me take your coat."

She shrugged out of it and handed it to me. She was wearing a low-cut black t-shirt and jeans. it was the most informal clothing I had ever seen her in, and she looked freaking incredible.

She had never seemed very comfortable in the clothes she wore to work at the club, but dressed like this, she was relaxed in a way that I didn't associate with her.

"You look great," I said, hanging her coat in the closet.

She laughed.

"I was going to dress up, but then I decided, we're probably past the stage where I need to impress you with fancy clothes. I mean, I already freaked out and dumped you, so it's not like I can just lure you back in with a nice dress."

At that, she kicked off her shoes and stood on my carpet in her bare feet.

"You can wear anything you want," I said, oddly charmed. "Shorts, pants, nothing at all..."

She covered her smile with one hand.

"Maybe not the last one."

"We have to eat first, anyway," I said, leading her towards the kitchen. "I cooked."

"It smells incredible," she said. "It smells sort of like..."

"Lobster mac and cheese," I said.

"Wow!" she said, as she stood in the doorway of the kitchen while I checked on the stew. "My mom used to make this all the time. I haven't eaten it in years."

"It looks like it still needs to cook a bit more," I said. "Maybe half an hour. Why don't we have some wine while we wait?"

"I'd like that," she said.

We sat on the sofa, Mercedes with her legs curled beneath her, and her beautiful hair shining in the lamplight.

Now that she was here, sitting in my apartment like she had never left, I didn't know where to begin...

"You've made some changes to the apartment," she said. "I like the houseplants."

"Jocelyn," I said succinctly.

Mercedes gave me a quizzical look.

"What do you mean?"

"She didn't tell you?" I asked. "She gave me a shopping list. Go look at that picture near the bookshelf."

With her brows furrowed, she stood up and went over to the photograph hanging on the wall. She leaned in, and I saw the exact moment she realized what it was.

"This is 'Woman Against The World'," she said.

"It is indeed," I said. "Now go into the kitchen and look in the first upper cabinet on the left."

She vanished into the kitchen... I couldn't see her from where I sat on the sofa, but I heard the cabinet door open. And then she said,

"You got the tea I like? And granola bars..." She came back into the living room, frowning, and stood at the end of the sofa, looking down at me. "And you're making soul food... What did Joss tell you?"

"Well, in retrospect, I think she was trying to make me prove my honorable intentions," I said. "My apartment is now Mercedes-proofed."

"I'm not a toddler!" she said. Then she touched my cheek. "Thank you. I feel kind of... You did all of these nice things for me, and all I did was dump you over the phone like a jerk. Joss shouldn't have made you do anything. Your honorable intentions were never in question. I should be the one trying to win you back."

"Well, you have a lot to make up to me, then," I said with a wink.

She smiled and looked down at her feet.

"I guess I'll have to try."

"Sit down," I said. "Talk to me. Tell me what happened. You said you got scared. Why aren't you scared now?"

Mercedes sunk onto the sofa again.

"I was scared. You're an important person, Sam, and I'm nobody. I know you don't think about it in those terms, but other people do. I could see your mother thinking it when we had dinner with her, how I'm not good enough for you, and she's right." She held up one hand, staving off my protest. "I can't support your ambitions in the way you need me to. I just can't. You were raised from birth to know how to talk to people and say the right thing, and I won't ever know how to do that. So, there was that. And sometimes I felt like you were pretty oblivious to how weird it was for me, the way you can just waltz in and get a table at any restaurant in the city. It's weird. And it made me think that you wouldn't ever be able to understand me."

That stung. I took a sip of my wine and kept my expression carefully neutral.

"Maybe you didn't think so, but I did make an effort. Do you remember when we went to the art museum? I could've asked them to keep it open after hours, just for us, and we could've had the entire museum to ourselves. They would've done that for me. But I didn't ask, because I thought it would make you uncomfortable."

Mercedes looked down at her glass.

"That didn't occur to me," she said quietly. "Anyway, I'm not saying that's what I think now. But that's what I thought at the time, and that's why I broke up with you."

"So, what do you think now?" I asked. "What changed?"

"Me," she said simply. "I did. I was so afraid of changing, but I had to. I decided I didn't want to spend the rest of my life being screwed up. My childhood wasn't the greatest, but it's over now. I don't want to be afraid of my father forever. And so...this is embarrassing, but, I started going to therapy."

Oh, Mercedes. I wanted to put my arms around her and never let go.

"There's nothing embarrassing about that," I said. "I spent several months in therapy after my fiancée left me, and I found it to be an incredibly useful experience."

"You had a fiancée?" she asked.

"Yes, I was engaged to be married," I said. "About five years ago. And a few months before the wedding, I found out that she was sleeping with another man. When I confronted her, she told me that she was only marrying me for my money. That she didn't love me at all."

"You never told me," Mercedes said.

"You didn't tell me about your high school boyfriend," I said.

She winced.

"Joss told you about him?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Not in any detail. She mentioned that he existed."

She was quiet for a moment, and then said,

"I think there are a lot of things we haven't told each other."

"We'll have to make up for lost time," I said, and she smiled at me like the sun breaking over the horizon. "I missed you," I said, showing my full hand. "I still haven't completely forgiven you, but I think I can. I would like to. I want to try again."

"Oh God!" she said, and covered her mouth with the hand that wasn't holding her wine glass. "Really? I thought...well, I hoped... but I didn't think you would want to. I thought you would be mad at me forever. And..." She took a deep breath. "I really, really want to try again, too."

I couldn't stop myself. I set down my wine glass, took hers from her hand, and kissed her.

Everything about it was so familiar, like coming home after being away for far too long.

I slid my hand into her hair and held her in place, kissing her gently and carefully...slow, exploratory kisses, reminding her of how perfectly our bodies fit together.

She made a soft noise and pressed closer to me, her hands settling on my shoulders. And everything in that moment, was perfect.

After a while, I pulled away...quitting while I was ahead.

"We should probably eat," I said.

Mercedes blinked her eyes open, her lips slightly parted.

"Oh. Food," she said. "Right. Okay. We should do that."

I made her sit at the table with her wine, and then brought out plates and silverware. Finally, I brought out the food and served both of us.

"Eat up. I hope it tastes okay."

"It smells incredible," she said. She scooped up food and took a bite. "Hot," she said, covering her mouth. "Too hot."

I laughed.

"Well, it's only just finished. Give it a few minutes to cool down. I'll open another bottle of wine."

She sucked air in and out trying to cool her hot mouthful.

"I'll be too drunk to get home," she said.

"Then you'll have to stay here with me," I said, waggling my eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, hoping to make her smile; and she did. Even with her mouth covered, I could see the way her eyes crinkled.

"It's really good," she said. "Even though it's hot. It tastes just like my mom's. Did you make this completely by yourself? How did you find the recipe?"

"I hired a woman," I confessed. "She owns a restaurant. I had her give me a cooking lesson. This is her recipe."

"No wonder it's good," she said. "I guess I should yell at you for spending money on cooking lessons when you can get recipes off the internet, but it seems like too much effort. I just have to accept that we have different ideas about money. And the food's really good. So thank you for going to that much trouble, just to make me some dinner."

"It's the sentiment that counts, right?" I asked. "Just like with horrible Christmas presents."

"Novelty socks," she said. "Six-packs of underwear."

"Hey now, my mother still gives me underwear every birthday and Christmas," I said.

She laughed. Then her face settled into solemn lines, and she said,

"Sam, I want you to know. I'm not using you for your money. I'm...I really care about you a lot. And that has been the worst thing these last few months. Knowing that I hurt you."

Somehow, she knew exactly what I needed to hear. The words were a sweet balm for my soul, easing the ache of abandonment.

I reached across the table to take one of her hands in mine.

"I want you to be honest with me, always. If something bothers you, tell me. Don't wait until it's too much to handle."

"I will," she said. "I'll probably still screw up, but I'm going to try."

"That's all we can ask of each other," I said. "Now let's eat before dinner gets cold."

Mercedes and I ate and drank our wine, whilst she told me more about her new job, her kind boss and her insane co-worker who is obsessed with some teenaged musician I had never heard of.

"That doesn't sound insane to me," I said. "It's very normal to be interested in teenaged heartthrobs."

"He's sixteen! And she's in her mid-forties," she said. "But, I mean, that alone wouldn't be so bad, but there's also the Beanie Baby collection, and the way she re-heats fish in the break room microwave every day for lunch..."

"Say no more," I said. "That sounds like a firing offense to me. One should only microwave fish in the privacy of one's own home."

Mercedes laughed; her fingers curled around the stem of her wine glass. And for a moment, I simply gazed at her, amazed that she was here, that she hadn't after all, walked out of my life forever.

"I have something else to show you," I said. "You'll need to put your coat on. It's outside."

She cocked her head at me.

"You...got a dog?"

I grinned.

"No, although I'm considering it. I wouldn't leave a dog outside in this weather, though. It would be indoors, curled up and snoozing on my pillow, spoiled as can be. You, on the other hand, can probably survive a few minutes outdoors. Let's get your coat."

Mercedes gave me a bewildered look, but she got up from the table without arguing and put her coat on.

I put on mine as well. We would only be outside very briefly, but I wanted to keep her guessing.

We went outside onto the terrace. I intended to usher her directly to the second level and the repurposed shed, but she veered away from me and went to the wall, pushing up onto her toes to peer down at the streets below.

She turned back to look at me...

"This is really incredible."

"Didn't you know I had this terrace?" I asked. This was hardly the first time she had been to my apartment.

She shrugged.

"I never really investigated. You can't see much from inside. I thought maybe you had a few plants out here, but...this is like your own private garden."

"That's the idea," I said. "Why bother being rich if you can't grow trees on your roof?"

She smiled at me.

"I bet it's really nice out here when the weather gets warm."

"Stick with me until spring and you can sunbathe out here as much as you want," I said. "Sometimes, when it's really hot, I break out the kiddie pool and the umbrella drinks."

"Oh, I hope there's a heat wave, then," Mercedes said. She giggled. "But with my complexion, I really don't need to sunbathe."

I smiled. Sinisterly.

"Maybe. But you can wear a bikini and laze around in the pool, and I'll watch you," I said. "We'll both be happy." I rested one hand in the small of her back. "This isn't why I wanted you to come out here, though."

She turned away from the wall, giving a last reluctant look over her shoulder, and followed me up the stairway to the second level of the terrace.

I opened the door and said,

"Close your eyes."

She did, and then covered them with her hands for good measure.

With that, I switched on the overhead light inside the shed, newly installed by my electrician, and then steered her inside, both of my hands on her shoulders, steering her where to go.

"Okay. Now you can look," I said.

Mercedes opened her eyes...

She didn't say anything at first. She just turned in a slow circle, looking at the armchair, the reading lamp and the hanging plant positioned in the window.

She ran her fingers along the spines of the books arranged on the shelves...alphabetically, by last name...and turned her to head to the side to read the titles.

"Sam," she said.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Did you do this for me?" she asked.

"I hope you like the books," I said. "You may have read some of them already. I wasn't sure."

"I'm going to cry," she said, and she did, her hands pressed against her face, shoulders shaking.

"Mercedes," I said, distressed, and took her into my arms. I hoped that she was crying from joy, but I hadn't expected such a strong reaction. "Is it too much? I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset," she said, voice muffled, mouth pressed against my chest. "It's just, that I think this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

I kissed her hair, wordlessly holding her against me, feeling the shape of her body against mine. She fit against me so perfectly that it was hard to imagine ever letting go.

But she pulled away at last and wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Now I cried all over your nice coat." She brushed futilely at the damp spots on the wool.

"Don't apologize," I said. "We're being honest with each other now, remember? You can cry as much as you need to."

She gave a watery laugh, tilting her face up to look at me. "I thought men hated crying women."

"Now where did you get that idea?" I asked. Even with her eyes red from crying, she was so lovely that I had to bend my head and kiss her.

It started gentle, almost chaste, but quickly became something more as she wrapped her arms around my neck and made a small, breathy noise that set my senses aflame.

The smell of her hair, the way she clung to me, the softness of her body compared to mine...it all combined to create a powerful tenderness in me, an urge to keep her safe, but also an urge to take her to my bedroom and remind her that she belonged to me.

Not yet.

Not tonight.

Tonight was about making her realize how much she had missed me. And how much I had missed her.

I slid my hands inside her unbuttoned coat, curling my palms around her waist, and then sliding lower to cup the lush curve of her ass.

God, it had been too long.

All of the anonymous sex I'd had in clubs, all of those women whose names I never knew; it had all been a failed attempt to get back to this feeling... the pure, incomparable chemistry I had with Mercedes that I had never experienced with anyone else.

She kissed me back eagerly, her hands sliding up my chest, but I noticed her quivering against me, and not with desire... she was cold.

With some effort, I pulled back.

"You're freezing," I said. "Let's go inside."

"No, I'm fine," she said, but she bit out the words between chattering teeth, and I simply shook my head at her, took her by the hand, and led her back inside, where it was warm and bright... where I could press her against the couch cushions and take my time.

Actually, getting to the sofa took some time. Because as soon as we entered the apartment, I lost control of myself and pressed her back against the French doors, pinning her there and kissing her, sliding her coat from her shoulders and exploring her body through her clothes.

We stumbled into the living room, clumsily groping at each other, tripping over our own feet, kissing the whole time, then laughing at every misstep.

Kissing her, laughing with her... I had missed these things more than I had known.

At last, we came in range of the sofa, and I gently lowered her onto the cushions and lay down on top of her, our legs tangling together, her hair spreading out like a dark nimbus around her head.

"Mercedes," I said, my heart threatening to escape from my body, but she arched up and kissed me before I could say anything I might regret.

Needless to say, we made out like teenagers, fumbling together on the couch, mouths moving together.

She untucked my shirt from my trousers and slid her hands up my back, her fingers cool on my hot skin, and I kissed down her throat to the soft concavity between her collarbones and pushed the neckline of her t-shirt aside to trace the lacy edge of her bra.

She made a series of gratifying gasping noises and rolled her hips against me, her body, mute and articulate, begging me for more.

But I wouldn't give it to her... Not tonight.

Yes, I wanted her needy and hungry for my touch, and much deprived of what she needed most. And yes, I wanted her thinking of me, dreaming of me and imagining me against her in bed as she slept. But I wouldn't give her what she craved until she begged me for it.

I would dream of her that night, I knew, alone in my own bed...

I sat up and raked one hand through my hair. Mercedes was too much of a temptation, squirming around beneath me with her sweet-smelling skin and her perfect breasts.

"It's time for you to go home," I said.

She pushed up onto her elbows, pouting.

"Already?"

"Yes," I said. "If you stay here any longer, I won't be responsible for my actions. Off with you. Harry will take you home, if you'd like."

"That would be nice," she said. "Since you're kicking me out, and everything."

She very theatrically rolled her eyes and tossed her hair to show me that she was joking.

"Yes, I'm a very bad man," I said. "If you want me to touch you, you're going to have to earn it."

I watched the effect of my words...

Her mouth parted and her eyes darkened. And I knew she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.

It was a heady feeling, knowing that I had her so much under my control, and that she had chosen to place herself there. That she wanted me to take charge.

"Come over for dinner," she said. "You cooked for me, so now I'll cook for you."

"Okay," I said. "Absolutely! Are you going to make me some delicious soul food?"

"Well, you cooked the food of my people, so I thought maybe I would cook the food of yours," she said. "So, cabbage, right?"

I never should've told her that a fair number of my ancestors were Polish.

"And sausage," I said. "Don't forget that part."

"Maybe I'll just order pizza," she said, and I laughed and kissed her again.

"When?" I asked.

She thought about it...

"Tuesday night? I have class on Monday."

"Tuesday sounds great," I said.

She smiled at me, her expression clear and open, and hopeful. We kissed for another ten minutes before she finally got off the sofa to get her coat...

Forgive any extreme mistakes. No time to read over.

Stay safe and humble and completely blessed!