SHADE A GOLDEN HEIR NOVEL
SHAYNE FORD
CONTENTS Copyright Introduction Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Also by Shayne Ford About the Author
Copyright © 2017 by Shayne Ford All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, organizations and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features mentioned in this book are the property of their respective owners and have been used without permission and in an editorial fashion only, with no implied endorsement. The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with, approved of or sponsored by the trademarks owners. This book is for entertainment purposes only. The author and publisher disclaim any and all responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly in relation to this book. This book is intended for mature audiences only. Written by Shayne Ford www.shayneford.com Twitter:@ShayneFordBooks Cover design by Shayne Ford The image on the cover is a licensed stock photo, and it is used for illustrative purposes, any person who may be depicted on, is a model. Created with Vellum
INTRODUCTION
SERIES SYNOPSIS THIS IS a story about love and finding the courage to follow your own path in life. Shade is starved for love and a deep connection with a woman. Tara reaches a crossroad in her life, craving a man who can appreciate her love. Shade inspires her to become the woman she is meant to be. In return, she gives him the love that he needs. Things seem to work out fine, but life throws obstacles in their way, not making it easy one bit. Will love conquer all? This book is part of a series, and it may end on a cliffhanger. The conclusion of their story comes in the final book of the series. Thank you for your understanding. This is a New Adult Erotic Romance. 18+ Only.
1
TARA “FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT,” I growl under my breath and touch the screen one more time before I finally give up, turn my phone off, and glance away. Seattle lights glimmer softly in the distance. “What a fucking jerk,” I murmur. “He doesn’t know.” The man’s voice rings out behind me, a nasal tone with husky layers, the voice of someone used to getting what he wants. I spin around, my eyes scanning the terrace. Cloaked in darkness, the man leans against the railing, his face briefly lit up by the glowing end of a cigarette. Blonde bangs drape over his eyes. “What are you talking about?” “The man who stood you up,” he continues, unfazed, and takes another drag on his cigarette.
The orange dot glows brightly one more time before he straightens his back, flicks the cigarette over the handrail, stuffs his hands into his pockets and swaggers to me. Slow-paced strides bring him closer. He pulls to a smooth stop in front of me, not a twitch or hesitation in his body. His tall, muscular frame towers over me, his broad shoulders highlighted by the moonlight. A crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck sets off his muscular neck, painting a contrast to the black designer suit. Glinting on his chest, a sexy silver pendant disagrees with the scope and place of this event. This is a billion dollar corporation, and it’s all business, all the time, no exceptions to the rule. Despite the friendly atmosphere, gourmet food, live music, and the presence of significant others at events like this, people do not look as if they just stepped off the runway. There’s a reason the dress code was painstakingly lodged in the company’s Business Conduct and Ethics Manual, a bible I had to study the first week of training on the job. Sure, people wear designer clothing, but none of them look like him. The light spilling from the upper level rolls over his shoulders, the thick shadow sliding over his face, hiding his eyes. “How do you know he stood me up?” I mumble, not sounding very clever. “You learn… But to learn, you have to see, and he doesn’t see you.” Josh is not the only one who doesn’t see me. I wonder how much I see and know about the other people.
I didn’t see this man coming. “And you see me?” I ask, incredulous. “Hmm?” he mutters, suddenly distracted. His hand comes to my face, his thumb sweeping my lips, the back of his knuckles slowly tracing my jawline. My heart skips beats, thudding in my chest. “Yeah… I do.” “What do you see?” I ask softly as I lean against the railing, unraveling at the edges. He inches to me, the warmth of his body and the smoky scent of his cologne draping over my skin, making me hot like the summer night surrounding us. A mellow piano tune drifts through the air as a cacophony of voices, dialogue and laughter, comes from upstairs. I glance up. What if anyone sees us? What if someone strolls out on the terrace, or worse, cares to take the stairs one floor down, and walks in on us? I could lose my job. I will lose my job. And I don’t even know this man. He’s not one of the employees. I can tell that much. And he’s too young to be part of the board, but then again, there are a lot of outsiders amongst the guests. It’s a big corporate event. Over one hundred people. Maybe he’s someone’s plus one, although I hope he’s not. The thing is, he could be anyone. Still, it’s stupid to risk my job to find out what he sees in me. He brings his hand to the back of my head and flicks the ponytail clasp open, a curtain of silky hair, tumbling past my shoulders. “You wanted to do this all evening long,” he says
softly. A small smile brushes my lips. “Yes, I did.” “See… It’s not that hard,” he says, grinning. Running his hand through my hair, he gently rolls his fingertips over my scalp and down my neck, spurring a rush of tingles on my skin. He inches to me, erasing the last bit of space between us, and my heart leaps to my throat, frantically racing. He studies me in silence, his fingers playing with my hair, a soft grin clinging to his lips. What is he doing? What am I doing? He gently nudges me around before he smoothly pulls me into him. My back glues to his chest as his hands clutch the balustrade on either side of me, locking me in. “You want things you don’t allow yourself to have,” he murmurs in my ear, and a shudder falls through me. “How do you know it’s real? What you see…” I mutter. “I just know,” he says, a smile threading through his voice. “Are you that good?” I say, a hint of irony lacing my voice. “No. It’s that easy,” he says, self-assured. “Really?” “Mmm-hmm.” “So what do I want?” I ask, playing his game, amused and curious at the same time. “You want to feel something for a change,” he says, and the truth hits me in my chest. My smile falls from my lips. I jerk back and slam into his torso. Promptly, he wraps his arms around me, holding me in place.
“He doesn’t give you what you want,” he says with the same confident voice, and I wish I had an argument against it. He flexes his muscles around me, his warm, soft breath rolling down my neck. “You know I’m right. Don’t fight it. I know who you are. I’ve been watching you. You’re not one of them. You’ve barely kept up with them, and if I guess correctly, some boss made you come to his event. It’s probably not even your job, but she made it yours. Am I right?” He’s damn right. I wish he weren’t. “I noticed how disconnected you were, back there in that conference room. The only reason you wanted that man of yours with you today, was to validate a life you no longer believe in. You needed him to make you feel as if you belong and to help you blend in. But see, he doesn’t care. He can’t be bothered. You’re into one of those longterm, lukewarm relationships. Your place, his place. Sex that sucks, no pun intended, like a week-long stale bread. Work related conversations in between. Once in a while, boring friends tagging along. Women talking about marriage, men getting fat in their chairs. Am I right?” My stomach twists and ties in a knot, my mind sputtering thoughts I wish I could ignore. “He’s probably off right now, fucking someone else. Someone dull like him. Someone genuinely happy with his shit.” My throat tightens, a rivulet of sweat trickling down my neck. What the fuck is he talking about? I finally open my mouth. “That’s not true… You’re just… I can’t believe I’m listening to you.” My voice breaks into a nervous chuckle. “You can’t know all that,” I say.
“Oh yes, I do,” he says, unfazed, sliding his hands up my arms, calm and confident, knowing exactly what he’s doing. A shiver jiggles its way through me, making me bump into his chest again. “I shouldn’t be here,” I say, trying to break away from him. His body hardens around me. “Don’t fool yourself. You’re exactly where you want to be,” he says, an amused smile coloring his voice. Who is this man? “What do you want from me?” “I want to give you what you’re longing for,” he says, his hands slowly sliding off my arms. His fingers trail down, and then he grabs my hips. He is… Oh, no. No, no. His hands move up again, tracing the contour of my body, dipping at my waist and then without stopping, they glide up and cup my breasts. My skin explodes under his touch, the tingles spreading like a raging fire. “Oh, no. We’re not doing this…” I murmur. “Oh… yes, we are.” He slips his hands inside my cleavage and runs his fingers on my mounds, his thumbs stroking my puckered nipples, spurring pulsing pleasure right between my thighs. “I don’t even know who you are.” “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “It does to me.” “You’ll find out when the time is right,” he says, his husky voice making me turn to mush inside.
He starts kneading my breasts at a slow, sensual pace, gradually increasing the pressure, and my body begins to churn pleasure like an old machinery plugged back to life. Does he really think I’m crazy enough to let him… fuck me? My thought falls flat on its face as my body starts to curve, my breasts pushing against his hands, my butt grinding against his groin, rubbing the bulge between his legs. A groan escapes my lips. “I can’t…” I say, desperately aroused, not making much sense as I rock willingly in his hands. “Yeah, I think you can…” he says, his voice lined with a smile. “I’m not a slut,” I say, and that makes even less sense since I’m waving my body against him, and keep grinding, eager to feel his hard-on against my butt. “You didn’t strike me as one,” he says softly, surprising me in a way. He sounds honest, although he’d probably say anything at this point just to fuck me. He’d kill my fears, soothe my concerns, and tell me exactly what I want to hear. That’s how you play this game. I know it. I remember it, from before I saddled myself with the long-term, safe relationship that in the meantime turned out to be a big sack of rotten crap. Somehow, everything he says rings true to me, and I let him do whatever he came here to do. He slips his hands inside my skirt, grabs it and runs it all up, and then explores the edge of my thigh-high stockings, gently nudging my legs apart. Expertly, he slides a finger under a garter.
“Hmm… you really hoped he’d make it, didn’t you?” he says, and the realization sinks in me like a rock. Yes, I did. Didn’t I? Like the idiot that I am, I also thought it would turn him on, not that it ever worked with him. “I bet he can’t tell a garter from the remote control,” he says, and I bite my lip, pushing back a growl of frustration and a few angry tears. I start to fidget, and he stills me again, his arms closing around my body. “Don’t do that,” he demands softly. He moves his hands again, his fingers tenderly brushing my skin, slipping inside my panties, and under the side straps. Slowly, he slides my panties down, and then he runs his fingers over my slit. I shudder and gasp and clench my thighs. Reaching back, I curl my hand around his neck, and holding onto him, I slowly start to roll my hips craving his touch against my sex. The strokes of his fingers strike me as pure art, making the soft, sensitive flesh pulse with pleasure. His hips rock slowly as well, the ridge of his cock pushing firmly against my butt. Squashing a moan, I move with him, my rear rubbing his hard, thick shaft. “Good girl,” he rasps. Sliding his fingers between my folds, he presses and circles my clit, and I grind against him harder. “That’s fucking good, baby. Don’t stop.” He pinches the hood of my clit, the sharp pain feeding the swirling pulsations between my legs. A moan escapes my lips. “You like it, hmm?”
He runs the other hand to my chest, his fingers clamping on to a nipple. “Oh…” I moan again. “You’re a woman of my taste, Tara,” he murmurs. “How…? Um… How do you know my name?” I ask, my brain in a complete fog. “It was on the table.” Yeah, it was, wasn’t it? I don’t remember seeing his name anywhere. “You…” “Shh.” He starts kissing and gently biting my neck, and I feel the reverberations of his touch all the way down to my toes. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I must’ve lost my mind. Everything goes down so fast. There’s nothing else I want right now other than to feel his hard-on between my legs. He presses his fingers on my clit and stills, and I throw a hand over my mouth, crushing a squeal. He can’t stop now. Oh, no. He can’t leave me like that. And then I hear the sound of a zipper going down, and the whimper of a plastic foil being torn. “Open for me, baby.” I press the tip of my stiletto on the ledge, the elastic G-string straining between my knees as I part my thighs. He rolls the back of my skirt all the way up again, and runs his hand between my legs, positioning himself before he slowly enters me. He’s hard. Really, really hard. And full. I gasp and bend over the handrail. “Relax, baby. Just relax…” I do what he says, and as my body begins to adjust, my core starts throbbing.
“That’s good,” he purrs, his gravelly voice coursing through me. “Now, come to me.” I hold onto his neck as he curls his arm around my body, steadying me against his frame, and starts thrusting. Slowly. Deeply. So fucking good. He pulls back washed with my arousal and plunges back in. “Oh, my fucking God!” I say, under my breath, my core raining on him, my insides screaming in delicious pleasure. He fills me up, again and again, my center eagerly squeezing him. I arch my back and push my bottom out. “Good girl,” he says rolling his hips and pounding me. That’s… fucking… unbelievable. My legs begin to tremble, my whole body shaking as sweet pleasure rolls through me. “You come for me baby girl, but please don’t scream… All right?” I nod, moaning softly. “Good. Now, turn your face to me.” I angle my head to the side, my eyes half-closed, my fingers clasped around his neck. “You’re really good, Tara. Don’t let some asshole waste your life. Okay? You promise me that?” “I do,” I murmur, lost in the vortex of pleasure spinning inside my body. His breath fans over my face before his lips find mine feeding me his scent of mint, smoke, and cologne. Our lips press together and our tongues roll hungrily, as if we've waited for each other for ages. My heart spins in my chest, my fingers going numb on his neck. We break our kiss, and his hands slip to my
hips. Flexing his muscles, he rams into me, picking up the pace fast, pounding me hard, swiftly tipping me over the edge, drowning me in an ocean of pleasure. A shudder shakes his body, a muffled grunt exploding in his chest. Bent over the handrail, I can’t stop myself from trembling. His body leaves mine swiftly before I hear the soft rustle of his clothing and the whisper of his zipper sliding up. Still throbbing, I pull my panties up and button my top, struggling to keep my body steady. A thought surfaces in my head. It must be late. Late enough, I can excuse myself from this party and go home. I’m a mess right now. Running my hands over my clothing, I look for my ponytail clasp. I finally spot it on top of the handrail next to my phone. He must have slid them over there. A door opens at the upper level, female voices moving closer. Winding an arm around me, he pulls me in the darkest corner of the terrace, his finger pressed against my lips. Silent, we listen. The women stop near the balustrade. “Okay then. Set it up for next month. Everybody will be in the office. I really appreciate your effort, Claire,” says a voice I don’t recognize. “Sure, no problem. I’ll get everything ready,” my boss says with a servile voice. “Have you seen Shade, by any chance?” the other woman asks. The two silhouettes lean forward, prompting the man to pull me into him and press me against his body, hiding me in the shadow. The women scan the terrace we are on before they
spin around and walk into the event room. Their voices fade away. “I have to go, Tara. It was nice meeting you,” he says, his lips brushing mine, planting a soft kiss. I try to grip his arm as he pulls away. My hand slides off him. “Hey… Who are you?” I hurl to him quietly, and he turns to me. Stepping backward, he waves at me, and in a patch of light, I see his handsome face and charming smile.
SHADE
“YOU COULD’VE TAKEN my car,” Elia says, drawing her knees together, her long fingers smoothing her skirt. Careful not to break a heel, she sinks into her seat and frowns at the vertical door. “Your fucking cars, Shade. Why can’t you drive a Bentley like everybody else?” I crack a smile. She doesn’t even know how ridiculous she sounds. “You could’ve left me home or drove your own damn car. I’m not your fucking driver,” I bark. She cuts her eyes at me, seething with anger. “Hey! Watch it young man!” “Or what?” I slam the gas pedal, and the car propels onto the road, our backs becoming one with the seats. “Easy, Shade,” she says, panic threading through her voice. “I want to go home, not to the ER.”
Without taking my foot off the gas, I peel my hands off the steering wheel and hold them up in the air. “Didn’t I just fucking say? You can drive your own car, get the driver, or hire a car service. Why do you insist on dragging me around?” I shout. “Put your hands on the fucking wheel, Shade,” she growls. She catches sight of my glare, and her face softens. “Please,” she begs, and I grip the steering wheel and slow down. Breathing out a dramatic exhale, she runs her fingers over her clothing and tucks an auburn lock behind her ear. “This is not going to work… You know that,” she says with a calmer voice, still very much irritated. “I know that. I was the one who told you. Remember?” I say and glance at her as I slide a cigarette between my lips. Calm, I light it up, and take a long drag, my eyes flying to the mirror. Tilting my head back, I run my fingers through my hair and check my face, a smile spilling in my eyes. She looks at me. “Where were you, anyway?” she asks suspiciously. I flick my head to the side, hiding my smirk. “Did you just fuck someone?” she hisses at me, her voice filled with revelation. Silent, I train my eyes on the road and take another drag. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she snaps, squeaking like a cheap toy. “Since when do you keep track of my dick?” I hurl back at her. “It’s not your fucking business if, and when I fuck. It was either that or gag myself with a spoon back in
the conference room.” “Ugh! You’re just…” Her voice trails off, sizzling like a firecracker. “Take it easy… mom. You’re gonna get yourself a heart attack.” “Don’t you fucking ‘mom’ me. You know how much I hate the word,” she bursts out, filled with anger. Don’t I know? One of the first things she’d taught me as I was growing up, was never to address her by her… quality. Especially in front of other people.‘They’ll think I’m old,’ she’d say. That’s how her head works. She’s not old. She had me young. But, hey. To each his own. “Shade… Listen, you have to work with me. This is our company. It will be yours one day. It’s either this or school and you’ve already said no to college,” she says, reminding me for the umpteenth time how I owe my fucking life to her, and therefore, I need to follow her script. We lock eyes briefly, and it’s like watching myself in a mirror. Her curly coppery hair is nothing like mine, blonde and straight, but her features and green eyes were seemingly cut and pasted onto my face. “I don’t need to run this fucking company. It’s not mine. I didn’t build it.” “One day, it’s gonna be yours, Shade. That’s why Roger wants you to get involved, and he’s right. You need to learn the ropes. Otherwise, people will crumble it from under you. If I learned anything in this life, it’s that you can’t trust anyone. Especially when it comes to a big chunk of money. Right now everything works fine. He has good people on board. Loyal people. But if anything happens to him, they’ll swoop to us like vultures. I don’t want to end up poor. I’ve been poor. It sucks. And I don’t
want you to go through that shit either.” She looks at me with softer eyes, tugging at my heart’s strings. And she makes sense. Of course, she does, but she’s also off a bit. It takes some time to ‘crumble’ a billion dollar company. I steer the car to the right and slow down, waiting for the gates to slide open. Driving slowly, we follow the gravel road all the way to the estate. The place is royally lit. “You don’t have to do anything Shade. Just don’t ruin my efforts. That’s all I’m asking. Can you please do that?” she asks as if I’m five. “I’ll think about it,” I say, stubbing out my cigarette while pulling to a smooth stop. She slithers out of the car, tugs at her skirt and waits for me. “Aren’t you coming?” “Later.” Before she can say anything else, I spin the car around and drive away in a swirl of dust and the shrill of peeling tires.
2
TARA “ARE YOU SERIOUS?” Maya asks, her eyes glinting with excitement. I haven’t seen her so happy since the first year of college. She sets a lit candle on the patio table, shifts one of the potted plants to the side, pulls her chair closer and slides the glass of wine to me. The soft light washes over her blonde hair, making her locks shine and her green eyes sparkle. “Good for you,” she says and takes a sip of wine. “I never thought something like that could happen in real life,” she mutters. “I didn’t think so either. And it was a bit scary. We could’ve gotten caught.” She flicks her eyes to me. “He’s got balls.” “That he has,” I say, and we share a quiet laughter.
“On the other hand, it wasn’t his ass on the line. There was not much for him to lose.” “Well. At least you’ve got yourself a happy ending,” she says, grinning. She sneaks a cigarette out of her pocket. “It’s yours if Matt comes asking,” she says, slumping into the patio chair avoiding the cone of light coming from inside the house. She throws a quick glance to the living room. The doors to the terrace are wide open, the room brimming with light. “I’m glad you stopped by. Parties are not the same without you,” she says, her voice tinged with sadness. Laughter wafts through the air, and we both cut our eyes to the living room again, where Matt, her husband of five years, talks to an older couple. The woman grins at them, her face flushed from the alcohol. She wears capris and a colorful blouse with a cardigan draped over her shoulders. Both men wear beige slacks that crumple at their butts, and shirts tucked under their sweaters, looking like older versions of six-year-olds. They remind me of Josh. “Your patio looks nice,” I say, pushing that thought aside. “It should. I spent the whole afternoon working on it, hanging lights, cleaning and trimming the plants, taking out the garbage. Matt couldn't help me. He was busy with a report. What can I say? Men and their jobs. Nothing comes first, other than porn maybe. ” Surreptitiously, she lights up the cigarette and takes a drag, reminding me of the high school years. We stay silent for a few moments, our eyes rooted on the people inside the house.
The man’s words come back to me. “What happened to us, Maya?” I say, bringing the glass of wine to my lips. The aroma of black grapes coats the inside of my mouth. “What do you mean?” she says, her fingers gliding on top of mine, the other hand palming the cigarette. “We’re barely twenty-five years old, and everything is already so damn predictable. I’m starting to feel old. We live like older people too.” “What are you saying? Everybody lives like that,” she mutters. “I don’t know… A few years back things were different. Everything seemed to be ahead of us, waiting to happen. We had big dreams. Remember?” Her eyes soften. “Yeah… I do,” she says with a quiet voice. “We were looking forward to living on our own and making our own decisions, anxious to learn and experience life. We thought we were on the right path with the school and everything else, and then it all took a nosedive. I didn't even realize it until tonight. As I was scrambling to pull up my panties after that man did some community service on me, it finally hit me…” She starts to chuckle, and I do too. A few tears fall from my eyes, though, and I stop to wipe them off. “Okay, maybe not that very moment, but in the aftermath anyway. I had this big revelation. Here I was, calling Josh, who had the audacity to break up with me without giving me an explanation, and then this man steps in and tells me things about my life no one has ever told me before. Things I hadn’t even had the courage to admit. And then he fucks me, sort of like a happy conclusion. That’s how it dawned on me I live a life
I no longer recognize as my own. All I have right now is work and chores. And don’t even get me started on men…” “I know,” she murmurs, her voice filled with sadness. “I always thought I was gonna start a business, and you wanted to write. When was the last time you read a book, let alone wrote something? I kept telling myself I needed to pay my student loan first and then start the business, and it made sense. But then I realized opportunities don’t last forever. I thought I’d find the right man and start a family with him. I didn’t want to fuck around. I wanted someone I could share my life with and love with all my heart. Someone who could love me back. I thought I’d do the right thing with Josh. People used to tell me how lucky I was, but I never felt that way.” I pause and look blankly at the glass. “And here I am. The ‘solid’ man is as hollow as any other man. He said we’re in a rut, and I believed him. I clobbered myself for not being what he wanted me to be. The thing is, I still have no idea what he was looking for. He’s never told me. But if you ask me, the only reason we were in a rut, is because he never wanted to do anything but the rut.” I take a long breath and sigh. “We had dinner last Sunday, and then we spent the night together. He left on a business trip on Monday morning. I called him several times, yet he never returned my calls. A few days later, he sent me a message. He said he needed time to figure things out… He didn’t know if our relationship worked for him. Crap like that. That’s how he broke up with me. I’m sure he’s back in town, but I can’t force myself to go to his apartment. There must be more to the story, and I’m just not in the mood to confront him or find someone else in his bed.”
I take another sip of wine. “It wasn’t the best relationship we could’ve had, but even so I never thought it would end like that. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.” Maya curls her arm around my shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” she says. “You just got nailed by a stud, for fuck’s sake,” she says with a different voice, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. “I’d be happy to have that once in a while for a change.” I give her a puzzled look. “I thought you and Matt were good.” “Well, not really…” Tension sets in her jaw and her eyes start to glisten as a sad smile finds its way to her lips. “We’ve been drifting apart for some time,” she says with a quiet voice. “We used to do everything together. We used to travel and go out, and we had a lot of friends. They bailed out on us one by one. The sex used to be hot, and now it’s just blah, like the oatmeal he forces me to eat every morning for my own good. ” She pauses for a moment and takes a drag on her cigarette before she blows the smoke over her shoulder and disperses it with her hand. “He’s getting lazier in bed. Careless. I still get off, but I have to pull my mind away from him and ignore him. That’s the only way I can come. I can do that with a vibrator, thank you very much. I don’t need a baby man for that. One I have to take care of afterward. The dildo, off it goes in the box. Never asks for socks, work clothes, or his aunt's anniversary. It never demands sex after I mop the floors and I’m all sweaty from rubbing tiles. Matt behaves more and more like a child and less and less like a man. And I’m thinking… Is this my fucking luck? But then I look around, and nobody seems to have it any
better. He’s barely thirty-five, and he’s already getting that middle-age air reeking all over him. I’m fucked. I really am. And not in the hot, good way.” I shift in my wicker chair and stretch my legs under the table. “Well, at least you get off. I haven’t… I mean not with Josh. Not in many years. He seems to care, but not for me,” I say. “Shh.” She stubs out the cigarette and pushes the ashtray to my side as Matt strides to us. “I have to drive them home. It’s not far from here,” he says, then looks in my direction. “Tara, you said you quit.” I gape at him, and Maya elbows me discreetly. “Oh, yes I did. It’s been a long night, and I needed one. I borrowed it, though. It’s not like I bought a pack,” I say, making up excuses as if I’m a teenager. “All right. Stay away from them. They’re bad for you,” he says and strides away. We both roll our eyes. As soon as the guests clear the room, Maya pushes out of her chair. “I have to clean up,” she says, exhaustion setting on her face. “I’ll help you. Do you have something I can change into?”
WE FINISH CLEANING UP, grab our drinks and sit at the kitchen table. “He’s late,” I say, glancing at my phone. “Yeah, he is, but I don’t want to call him. If I do, he says I’m nagging, and I hate when he says that. He’s been doing this for a few weeks, now. That’s another
thing that’s been bugging me, especially since we almost never go out together. He walks out of the house under some pretext, and five hours later he comes home with some stupid explanation. He meets a friend who has a friend who invites him to a party at another friend’s house. Shit like that. There’s always someplace he needs to be. It’s either related to work or a friend I never get to meet.” She stares vacantly at her drink. “I’m sorry.” “Well, it is what it is. Knowing what I know now, I would’ve never gotten married. I’m not sure I want children either. Not like this, anyway. At least you and Josh are not married. You were smart enough not to do it.” “Well, it’s not like I didn’t want to. He was the one who kept putting it off, and I gave up eventually.” Running nervous fingers through her hair, she lets out a sigh. “Anyway… I don’t want to talk about him anymore. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about the man you met tonight.” “Well, I can’t say I met him…” I mutter, a slow smile curling my lips. “Never in a million years would I have thought I’d fuck someone in a public space, a stranger nonetheless.” “Was he good looking?” “He sure was. Tall, blonde hair, green eyes. Athletic build.” “Mmm. Yummy.” “There was something different about him. He came late into the conference room, and he didn’t take a seat. For the most part, he stood in the back of the room and leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.
At the end of the presentation, he was the first to walk out. Later on, I caught him glancing in my direction a couple of times, but I never thought much of it. I, on the other hand, have spent some time studying him. It was hard not to notice him. He walked and wore his suit differently. He looked detached, in a world of its own. A few people approached him after the presentation had ended, men and women, all talking business. Once in a while he’d walk down the corridor and disappear for a few minutes. At one point I began checking my phone and got sucked into my own crap. When the party got started, I slipped out of the event room, strolled down the same hallway, took the stairs to the lower level and looked for a place where I could be by myself. That’s how I found that terrace. Dark, overlooking the city. He was there, smoking.” She listens to me, her eyes wide and bright, mystified. “This sounds like fate,” she says. I smile softly. “I don’t know what it was… He…” I have to pause as my voice starts to break. “I shouldn’t have drunk wine,” I say, trying to make a joke as I grapple with my emotions. Tilting her head to the side, she smiles. I take a long breath before I speak again. “I think he just caught me in a bad moment. Everything he said was spot on. It was uncanny.” I stop again, and bite my lip, fighting back my tears. Maya’s hand slides on my shoulder. “When he tore away from me I felt a pain in my chest as if something inside me was screaming for him. I know it sounds strange, but I’ve never felt anything like that in my life, not for Josh, not for any other man, and in retrospect, it says less about him, and more about me
and my fucked up life. He gave me a taste of something else, and then he said things about Josh, things that were so right,” I mumble, my voice drowning in tears. “He said Josh is off somewhere else, fucking some chick.” She looks at me, stunned. “Did he really say that to you?” I nod softly. “Yeah, he did, among other things.” “I’m sorry. I thought it was fun,” she murmurs, confused, “It was fun. The best sex I’ve had in years, or ever, and that’s the bigger problem,” I say and give her a sad smile. She pushes the tissue box to me. “You’re a mess,” she says trying to inject some humor in the conversation. “Yeah… I am…” I admit. “So, the thing is… I told you how I usually don’t get off with Josh… “ “Yeah…” “No matter what we try. I’m never hot or wet or whatever… and I’m always stiff as a fucking broom. And he doesn’t like to do a lot of things that could turn me on except of course… the actual thing. ” “Okay…” she says, a smile stretching on her lips. “Are you telling me…?” Her eyebrows tilt up. I nod. “Mmm-hmm. The moment he put his hands on me, every part of me was churning heat. My body was practically begging him to fuck me, and he did, and it was really good. It was so intense I thought I’d pass out on that handrail.” “Yes!!!” Her hand slams the table, her face so cheerful my lips
curve into a smile. “I knew they are out there. Hard to find and catch, but they are there. Thank God! There’s hope. Can you find out who this man is?” “I could ask around, but my gut tells me to drop it. He didn’t want to give me his name, and there must be a good reason for that. Anyway, it’s not like I’m going to see him again. The main door opens, and footsteps rush in. “I’m back,” Matt throws over his shoulder without glancing at us. “Maya, do you mind taking the garbage out? It stinks. I have to take a shower.” A second door opens and slams shut as Maya jumps to her feet, her eyes blazing. Her lips start to tremble, the blood draining out of her face. “What the fuck was that?” I ask, my insides twisting. Tears come to her eyes, faster than I can wrap my arms around her. “It’s okay… I’m fine,” she says, peeling away from me, although I know she’s not. “Okay… I’ll go now. Call me if you need anything,” I murmur, my voice lined with sadness. She gives me a hurried hug before I grab my bag and head for the door.
3
SHADE I’M HARDLY a fan of sleepovers. Let me rephrase it. I fucking hate sleepovers, mainly because I’m not a man of subtle conversations. Hardly in the evening, never in the morning. I don’t like to talk or see faces in the morning. I like my space clear of people and free of words, and there’s a reason for that. Unless instructed otherwise, the staff makes every effort to stay out of my way, and my mom knows better than to bug me with stupid shit before four o’clock in the afternoon. And Roger… Well, he’s almost never home. But once in a while, I make an exception, just because I like a blow job in the morning as much as the next guy. A decent one if I don’t ask for much. That’s why having a qualified girl in my bed makes total sense. To me, it’s like having the blow jobs drive-
through in the middle of the bedroom. All I need is to roll on my back, pull the sheet off me, kick back and enjoy it. No warming up, no introductions, no trade-offs. She doesn’t even have to get me hard. I’m always good. Especially in the mornings. Like fucking now. I flip my eyes open and scan my surroundings. The curtains are pulled to the side, bright sunlight washing my room. What the fuck? Didn’t I ask for a pitch black room? Yes. I fucking did. Growling, I sink my fist into a pillow. Fucking Elia. She’s so fucking smart. She always knows better. That’s her idea of micro-managing everything I do. I can run something as long as she overrides every damn decision that I make. Grunting, I roll onto my stomach, my hard-on aching beneath me. I stretch my leg and explore the other side of the bed. Why is it fucking empty? That’s not what I had in mind when I dragged that girl home last night from that boring ass party. She’s made the fucking cut, passing tests and all, mainly involving her mouth and my cock. In the bathroom, in my car. Out of my car. Where the hell is she? A sound of splashing water comes from the shower. Good. I hope she’s rushing because I’m busting at the seams. An ominous sound comes from behind the double door. Elia’s voice thunders across the hallway, barking orders at the staff, and then her voice echoes closer. And closer. No, no. Fucking no. She doesn’t fucking dare.
The doors slam open, just as I pull a sheet over my naked ass. “What the hell do you want?” I growl, lying flat on my stomach. “Shade?” she calls out with a sweet voice as if she has no fucking idea what she’s walked into. “Get the hell out of my room, Elia,” I grump in the pillow. She walks to the middle of the room, her heels clicking on my brain. “Is someone in the bathroom?” “Use your fucking brain, woman.” “Can you tell her to go? I need you to wake up and join Roger and me for a business lunch.” I lash her with my glare. She steps back. “You must be out of your fucking mind, Elia. I’m not going anywhere.” “We’ve talked about this. And you know this is your job,” she keeps yapping, and I know her plan. She doesn’t give a damn that she’s driving me crazy as long as I pull my ass out of my bed and do what she says. That’s my fucking mom. Too bad that never works with me. “We may have talked about it, but today is not a good day for me. Now, fold your little ass, and get the hell out of my room.” I plop my face into the pillow. “But––” “There is no fucking but. There’s only one job I have in mind right now, and that’s the blow job I’m about to get if you care to walk out that fucking door. I’ll talk to you after that. Okay? Now, go.” Huffing, she spins around, her heels marching to the door. That fucking noise.
Just before I’m about to sigh with relief, the bathroom door opens and a crystalline voice I don’t quite remember falls into my ears. “Hi, Elia… Ms. Hennessy.” The heels come to a sudden stop, screeching against the floor, scraping my brain again. “Hi, Lola. You can call me Elia. Lola, right?” Wait. What? Who the fuck is Lola? Did I fuck one of my mom’s friends? She doesn’t sound like one, but voices are deceptive, and so are looks, these days. Whoever this Lola is, I hope she came out of the bathroom looking half decent. I pull up again and cut my eyes across the room. Sporting a towel wrapped around her chest, her dark hair damp from the shower, Lola in question smiles to my mom, reminding me of a preppy girl. Fuck. Not that again. That’s like getting oatmeal after a month-long oatmeal diet. That's all I’ve fucked in that posh Swiss school. Was I fucking blind last night? Or perhaps I drank too much. Yeah, that would do. Like mold, I can spot the preppy flavor from a mile. How did I fucking miss it? I find it worrisome that they exchange pleasantries as if they know each other, and they probably do, but even more concerning is the glee rolling on my mom’s face. Oh, don’t you fucking tell me. Elia hurries to make herself scarce faster than I can blink, at the same time throwing giddy glances over Lola’s shoulder. I flick my middle finger up in her direction as Lola turns her back to us and bends over a chair, reaching for her clothes. Elia winks, and I mouth to her again. “Get the hell out.” She finally closes the doors.
Leaping up to my feet, I drag the sheet with me, and head for the bathroom. Angry and hard. “Shade?” “Yeah.” “I’ll see you tonight?” “I’ll call you. All right?” “You didn’t want to…?” she smiles at me, her eyes glinting with mischief, and I feel remorseful for pulling her into this shit. “I did, but it’s not gonna happen. Okay? I gotta go somewhere.” “Okay, no problem. I’ll talk to you later.” “Cool.” I turn to her, kiss her on her forehead, and vanish into the bathroom.
A HALF HOUR LATER, I walk out of the shower, pull my sweatpants on, and run a towel over my damp hair. Guided by the screaming match, I amble across the hallway and head to the kitchen. “He knows it…” Elia’s voice grates on my ears. I bust the doors open. Roger, a tall, good-looking man in his late fifties leans against the window sill and slices his eyes at me briefly before he swings his gaze back to her. Changed into a fitted black dress that hits above her knees and sets off her platinum jewelry, Elia struts to me. I hold my hand in the air. “I’m here. I’ll go wherever you want me to go. No need to shout. Okay?”
“Shade…” he says. “I know, Roger. I know. I got it. I’m not an idiot. I’ll get ready.” I stride toward the hallway and leisurely make the trip back to the bedroom. Elia’s heels clink clank on the floors right behind me. By the time I enter my room, she catches up with me. Without a glance in her direction, I snatch my phone from the nightstand and dial a number. “Shade?” she chirps. I turn to her and hold my finger up. She freezes. The other end picks up. “Hey. It’s me.” Her eyes turn into green lasers. “How soon can you get me into that apartment?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “Shade?” Clamping my hand over my phone, I shush her. “Cool. Yeah… And for tonight…” I say, locking Elia’s eyes, “I want an escort.” Her brow furrows, her hands clawing at her hips. I smile, amused. “Make sure she’s clean. Tested. Huh? Don’t care. Brunette. Fine. Actually… make it two. Yup. That’s fine. Later.” I hang up and walk into the closet. I pull out a hanger and grab the tailored shirt and matching pants. I spin around and bump into her. “Why the hell are you still here?” “What are you doing, Shade?” “What does it look like?” “Why do you want to move out?” “I’m no longer seventeen, mom. I’m done having you breathe down my neck. I’ve been in prison for the last… I
don’t know… Twelve years or so?” Her teeth grit, and my lips flash a smile glowing with satisfaction. “I don’t need your fucking space and approval to have some girl suck my dick.” “You can’t do this.” “I can, and I will.” “You don’t have money, Shade.” I drop the clothes on the chair and stride to her. She starts walking backward until her back hits the wall. I lean toward her, my palm bracing the wall next to her head. “This is how it will go down, Elia. You make sure I have enough money to do whatever the hell I want, and I’ll make sure you have the man for your business. Deal?” She looks at me, batting lashes, her brain computing. “Do you want me to repeat?” “No, I got it.” “Great. Perfect timing. I need to clothe my ass, so if you’ll excuse me…” I grab the clothing and walk toward the bathroom. “What about Lola?” I stop and half turn. “There will be no Lola.” “Do you know who she is?” “I have no fucking idea.” “The girl you just fucked is Lola Hemingway, the heiress to the multi-billion estate. Old money, and new money.” Oh, that explains it, doesn’t it? Elia’s smug smile, and the instant stamp of approval glinting in her eyes. “Good to know. I’m not gonna touch her again.” “Shade… just think about it.”
Without listening to another word, I slither into the bathroom and slam the door behind me.
TARA
“ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS?” “Yes, it’s only temporary. I’m on a new pill, and we need an alternate contraception method as a backup,” I say, sounding so damn clinical. Reluctantly, Josh puts the condom on and eases himself in. On my back, I roll with each thrust, my head pounding into the pillow stuck under my head. The cover goes up to his waist, hiding most of his body, and as I glance in the wall mirror at my side, it looks like we’re camping in the middle of the bed, our tent struggling with the gusts of wind. I try to grab him, but he pushes up and props himself on his arms, the only connection between us, the point between my legs. It’s harder than I thought, condom and all. After the first few thrusts, I get drier, and he gets softer, and we’re heading for a disaster. There’s no way I can fake anything right now. The more he moves, the worse it gets. I’m all sore, and not for the good reasons. I pray he stops and dismounts me. He does, and then I wish he hadn’t. Huffing, he pulls the cover off me, wraps it around his waist, snatches his clothes off the chair, and rushes to the bathroom. Displeasure beams on his face.
A half hour later, he walks out, fully dressed. Khakis, long sleeve flannel shirt, and a blazer. “This is not working for me. I’d rather wait until you’re good with your new regimen so we can do it without it. Okay?” he says emphatically. I blink a few times, confused. It’s like I see him for the first time. Was I blind all this time? He makes a short stop next to me and squeezes my shoulder like my math teacher used to do when I did well. Except, now I didn’t. He grabs his laptop bag. “Where are you going?” I ask. “I might as well go to my place. I have an early morning meeting, and I don’t want to be late. Plus, you know how much I hate to sleep with someone else in the same bed.” By else, he means me. Yeah, that’s no secret, and it’s not something I hold against him. In all fairness, I can’t sleep with him in the same bed either, not when he’s using every move I make and every breath I take as a pretext to throw a fit. He saunters to the door, and I look at him as if I’m watching bad TV. I know it sucks, but I can’t tear my eyes away. “Are we on for Friday?” I ask. He turns to me and tosses me a clipped glance, visibly irritated. “What’s Friday?” “Maya’s birthday party.” “Oh. I forgot about that. I don’t know. I’ll let you know. I’ll call you.” That’s a big, fat no. Off he goes. I’m still butt naked, with a desert between my legs and a bad taste in my mouth. This was a bad, bad idea.
We should’ve ended it three weeks ago when he broke up with me. He came back to me, and we started all over, and I said nothing. He never offered an apology, even less of an explanation. I could’ve said something, anything, but I didn’t. Instead, I felt guilty for stupid reasons, mainly for not being the person that he wanted me to be and also for letting that stranger touch me. So, I took him back. It was the sensible, practical thing to do. A no-brainer, as my mom would say. I can’t tell if he’s seeing someone else or not. I asked him, but he didn’t want to confess, and short of hiring a private investigator, there’s not much I can do. At least, I asked him to use the condoms. I no longer trust him, or his judgment. As lousy as it sounds, that little piece of plastic between us makes him bearable, less painful, and easier to take. Like a bitter medicine you have to swallow with a teaspoon full of honey. He didn’t seem to care, at least not then, so we slipped back into our old routine, the rut he’d always blamed on me, and things have become even simpler. Sex a couple of times a week, and that’s that. Until now. But now, it’s over. It’s been over for so long, yet I didn’t want to face the sad reality. I leap out of my bed, grab the sheets and the cover and peel them off the mattress. I crumple everything in a big mound of fabric and kick it with my bare feet. I want it all off my bed. I want his scent out of my nose and anything reminding me of him, burned or trashed. I wish I could peel my skin off me. The skin that he touches as if I’m the remote control or a piece of furniture. I wonder if the woman he fucks fits his fucking taste.
Is she like him? Do they have tent sex? Because it’s so fucking good? Does she get wet for him? Does he make her come? Is he sleeping with her in the same bed? The phone starts ringing and I stop for a moment, panting, my eyes scanning the room for the damn thing. I hope it’s not him. I couldn’t take another word coming from his mouth. “Yes?” Maya’s sobs fill my ear. “Maya?!” “I’m sorry…” “What happened? Is everything okay?” My heart beats in my throat. “I…” “Where are you?” “Can I come to your place?” “Of course you can. What’s going on?” “I need a place to sleep… for tonight. I’ll go to my mom’s tomorrow,” she says sniffing, the sound of traffic filling the background. “Are you driving?” “Yes.” She pauses. “I left Matt.” “What?!” “I’ll tell you. All I need is a place for tonight and you. I need to talk to someone before I lose my mind.” “Sure. Don’t worry, sweetie. Take your time, and drive safely. All right?” “I’ll see you in a bit.”
4
TARA “THIS IS THE WOMAN,” Maya says, and she starts crying again. I put the sandwich on the plate and nudge it to her. I take the phone from her hand. “What am I looking at?” “The women with the purple blouse. The man standing next to her is her husband and Matt’s boss.” “Where’s Matt?” “He took the picture.” “Fucking shit. What sick bastard takes a picture of his wife, the woman he fucks and her scorned husband?” She starts whimpering again. “I’m sorry… It was a rhetorical question,” I say, wracked with guilt. Broken, she looks down at her hands. She reminds me of the girl she used to be, not far back. She looks small and fragile, her long hair entangled, her cheeks stained with tears, her shoulders
slumped. She used to smile all the time. Brimming with confidence, we both thought the world was our oyster. What did she do to deserve this? She’s never hurt a fly. She put all her heart into this marriage and tossed her dreams to the side for what turned out to be a nightmare. She hasn’t even had the chance to live a little. Matt was her second man. And her first disaster. “Please eat. It will make you feel better.” She grabs the sandwich, takes a bite, and her expression slowly changes. I shift my gaze back to the picture. The woman he has cheated with looks at least a decade older. Than him. What the fuck? She’s also twice the size of… him. I cough a little and drink water, trying to clear my throat. It feels as if I swallowed a swarm of bugs and they are all crawling up my throat, trying to escape. I gulp more water, my eyes on Maya as she picks up a slice of tomato and takes little bites. “What’s her name?” “Agatha Johnson,” she says. “Shit… Even the name sounds old,” I mumble. “It doesn’t have to do with anything,” she says, smarter than me. I know it doesn’t have to do with age, size, or whatever, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt her. “I know. I know…” I bring my eyes back to the phone screen. Maya wears a red, strapless, tailored dress, which falls to her knees, flattering her lean silhouette. She looks like a prom girl, and Agatha looks like the angry mom who knows the prom is only a lousy pretext to go out and fuck.
Okay, seriously now, I don’t know what her problem was, but her frown spreads over half of her face. Well, I might have an idea. Illegitimate lovers tend to be in crappy moods, especially when the scorned plus ones are still in the picture. No pun intended. Agatha wears a shapeless purple dress, her hair pulled into a bun, her eyes spitting poison at the camera. Her husband sort of pulls away from her, his eyes vacant. There’s a lot of tension between them, and now I know why. The husband may have known for a while about his sweetheart’s indiscretions, or perhaps he’s just fed up and roaming on a greener pasture himself. Maybe Matt is nothing but revenge sex for Agatha, although nobody calls it that. It’s true love for anyone who asks. Finding your soulmate. Yeah… Anyway, there’s a lot of sex going on between the lovebirds, Maya said, so much so they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and that’s how they got caught. And I thought I had it badly. I place the phone on the table, struggling to keep my emotions under control and offer her the best support. I don’t know what to tell her. There’s nothing that can make her feel better right now. There’s no pain-free way to handle this crap. If I tell Maya, she’s nothing like Mrs. Johnson it will break her. Telling her that Matt is an idiot will pour more pain in her heart, making the years they spent together look like wasted time. And perhaps it was. Like the years I’ve wasted with Josh. But this is not the time to bring this up. It will do her no good. “So what exactly happened?” Sobs shake her chest. “I can’t believe they’ve come over to our house so
many times,” she says, despondent, and sadness drills holes in my heart. “We had dinner, and everything seemed fine. I couldn’t tell that something was wrong. I just couldn’t. So we were finishing our meal and I brought out the desserts. Matt’s phone buzzed. He excused himself and walked out in the back. I thought he walked out on the terrace. I remember hearing the doors open, but I didn’t hear them close, so all that time I thought he was on the patio, talking on the phone. Moments later, Agatha pulled out of her chair and walked to the bathroom. Her husband and I started to chat. About Matt, his job, the company, and the real estate market. Twenty minutes later, he went out for a smoke. He walked out through the main door and sat on the porch. I was cleaning the table when the sound of muffled voices drifted to me. At first, I thought they were on the terrace, but something didn’t make sense to me. I headed to the patio, and the closer I got, the more I realized that the voices were coming from the bathroom. I spun around and strode in that direction. I pressed my ear against the door and listened for a moment. That’s when they went silent.” I bite my lip and slowly shake my head, tears falling from my eyes. “I knew it right then. I knew what they were doing. I’m not a child. I pushed the door open. They didn’t even care to lock it.” She stops, and sobs, and then she starts to laugh, her tears still streaming down her face. “I’m sorry… I’m not losing my mind although it feels that way…” She runs the back of her hand over her lips and her fingers under her eyes, wiping her tears away. “He was standing in the middle of the bathroom, his
dick out, and she was bent at her waist, struggling to lick his balls as he was finger-fucking her butt hole.” I bite my lip hard, trying to suppress a chuckle. “You sure…?” She looks at me, and we both burst into laughter, our faces stained with tears. “I fucking am… I was looking at the damn thing. That, and the crumpled knickers sitting between her knees.” We laugh for a good minute, and I can only call it laughing therapy since, in essence, the whole story is sad as fuck. “So what happened?” “He saw me first, or rather heard me and he opened his eyes. He was sort of in a trance. He looked like he was in heaven, and she wasn’t even licking his dick, as I said before––” I hold my hands up. “Got it. No need to remind me,” I say, and we laugh again. “So he flipped his eyes open and looked at me, and nothing much happened after that. As I was searching his eyes, I couldn’t find Matt, not even the one I’ve loathed for pushing the bowl of oatmeal under my nose every day so I could stay lean for him. Really? I looked at him, and realized he was nothing but a stranger to me, someone who had disconnected himself from me a while ago. I didn’t recognize him, and I couldn’t possibly understand what had made him do that, let alone his choice. But it was his choice after all. It turned out he'd lied to me for some time. Anyway, so he finally noticed me, and they both froze. The woman couldn’t see me, being bent at her waist and all, her ass facing the door, but she definitely had heard me. She didn’t straighten up, and for a moment I thought she pulled a muscle or
something, or perhaps threw her back out. And I stood there for a moment, shock barreling through me, my eyes roving over her flowery purple dress, his dick hanging out. I was never, you know…” She bites her lip, crying and snickering at the same time. “I was never able to convince him to trim that bush. And here I am, staring at something that looks like a cow’s tongue dangling from a bird’s nest, while she works his balls…” Clenching my teeth, I crush a chuckle, perfectly aware we are talking about dire things, and yet the image immediately starts to haunt me. “His fingers were still…” she says, and she does this little wiggling thing with her pinkie, and I clamp my hand over my mouth, laughing in my throat. “I stepped out of the bathroom and waited in the hallway. He came out first and looked at me as if I set his video games on fire. I asked him if he wants me to tell her husband, and he said he’d do it…” Her smile falls off her face and so does mine. “Then I knew it… It was over.”
TUCKED UNDER A BLANKET, Maya snores softly. It turns out, all those signs pointing to a shitty ending were, well, accurate. Still, who could’ve anticipated such an unfolding of events? How can people get so stupid, so fast? I glance at her, again. She looks so young with her hair splayed over the pillow, and her profile so delicate. She’s my best friend since I can remember. She was always a happy girl, and then everything came to a
screeching halt when she married the man she thought was the love of her life. We all thought he was the one. Her family, my mom, and me. She was happy until she wasn’t. I wonder if we were stupid, or life was just too much of a mystery to us and we couldn’t possibly know that things were so fickle and never what we thought they were. I can’t help but wonder. Was it something that she’d done? Was it the other people? Was Matt the wrong man for her? Was Josh for me? I wish I knew. I glance at my phone. There’s enough time. I finish applying my makeup, brush my hair, and walk in the closet. I sift through my clothing and pull out a fitted skirt suit. I wonder when my relationship started to crumble. Hmm, I have to go way back. The sex was never stellar, but I didn’t think much about it. It was only sex, after all. For the longest time, I thought there was something wrong with me. I mean not wrong wrong, but rather I thought I’m one of those women who doesn’t feel much in bed no matter what they do, or who they do it with. It turns out it does matter who you do it with. I run my hands over the skirt, tug at the bottom of the jacket, and twirl in front of the mirror. The navy suit makes my blue eyes look darker. I grab my coffee, the car keys, and my purse, and then I scan the room one more time before I walk out of my apartment. Five minutes to eight I walk into my office. “What’s going on?” I ask my assistant as I plop my bag on my desk and walk around it. There’s silence.
I turn. “Danielle?” My secretary’s eyes dart back and forth. She looks a bit unfocused. Three years younger than me, about the same height, she now blinks excessively, spaced out. “You okay?” I carefully examine her pale complexion and brown eyes. A soft cotton dress hugs her body. She runs her hand through curls of blonde hair, stretching them to her shoulders. “Yes.” “Why are so many people in the hallway?” She bats her lashes and purses her lips, her eyes twinkling. “All the top executives are in the building. The owners as well. Plus all the new hires are here for the training,” she says, distracted. “I know. I’m supposed to train them. Remember? Are the slides ready?” I ask with an assertive voice, hoping to jolt her out of her daze. “Oh, yes, yes. They are. We can go over them. The rooms are ready,” she says, finally snapping out of her trance. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask as she keeps craning her neck, peeking over my shoulder, changing colors like a litmus paper. “Yes, I am.” A sound of jovial chattering comes from the corridor and rolls into my office. I move away from my desk and peer through the open door when the sight stops me in my tracks. There’s a group of suits across from my office. Men and women. Top management. Claire, my boss, who’s
been eyeing the Marketing VP position for some time, talks to some of them. I skim their faces until my eyes set on a gorgeous woman, who’s half facing my office and the tall, blonde man standing by her side. His back is completely turned to me, but something in his stance and the broadness of his shoulders scrapes my memory as awfully familiar. The woman is young, somewhere in her thirties, I’d guess, although it’s hard to say. Medium tall, and fit. A curtain of amber hair cascades past her shoulders. She spins after Claire, and I can finally see her face. Symmetrical features, striking eyes, perfect makeup. Her dark emerald suit brings out her green eyes. Her diamonds catch the light, glittering bright around her neck, her wrist and on the lapel of her suit jacket. She moves swiftly on her heels, her manicured fingers clasped on her hip. The group thins out, the corporate officers strolling down the hallway, rapidly vanishing into the boardroom. The beautiful woman pivots again, and the man who accompanies her turns as well. I leap back, gasping as if I just saw a ghost. As I retreat, I step on something soft and alive, and Danielle bends at her waist, suppressing a scream, her little feet crushed under my stilettos. With one smooth move, I curl my arm around her and swoop her away from the glass door, pulling her to the side. Sneaking behind a plant, I bring my index to my lips. She looks at me as if I lost my mind. “I’m sorry, Danielle. Did I hurt you?” Her eyes dip to her scratched shoes. She’s more worried about them than her toes.
“Don’t worry. I’ll buy you another pair. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stepped back like that…” I say, and then I lift my chin and motion to the hallway. “Do you know those people? The man and the woman.” A smile glints in her eyes as a soft blush rolls over her face, and it finally dawns on me why she’s so distracted. “They are the owners,” she says. “Owners?!” I burst out, almost spitting on her. “Yes. Elia and Shade Hennessy.” I lean against the wall, my knees soft like warm wax. Is this a fucking bug that spreads around? Have I just gotten nailed by my boss? Who turns out to be married and all? Shit. Fucking shit. Oh, no. I didn’t just do that. Sadly, I did, and today is as good as any to pull out my resume and spruce it up. I need to put myself back on the market and fast, and, unless spreading my legs passes off as a work recommendation, I should check different markets as well. If she finds out about our little tryst, there’s no place for me to hide. I might as well move to a different continent, and even so I’ll probably have nightmares about those devilish green eyes and her red nails ripping my chest open. As the reality hits me, fear runs through my blood. Oh, my God! What the hell have I done? I’ve worked so hard to get this job. I don’t want to lose it. Danielle adjusts the AC to blow colder air, at the same time handing me a napkin. I wipe sweat from my brow. “Have they been married for long?” “Oh, no, no…”
She wags her finger at me before she grabs my elbow and leads me to the chair as if I’m some lost person crossing the street. “Shade is her son.” Son?! Oh, shit. Come to think of it, is that really better? No. I don’t think so. I can think of a dozen reasons why it’s actually worse. Danielle glances at them, flushed up to her hairline, and I finally connect the dots. She has a crush on him. Fucking great. The day can’t get any better. I shrink into my chair, turn my head to the hallway and steal a glance in their direction just as Elia struts toward the boardroom. Facing my office, Shade talks to Walter Rove, our CFO. A smile stretches across Shade’s lips, his green eyes beaming. A couple of blonde bangs brush his high cheekbones, his hair long enough to touch his collar. He doesn’t wear a tie, and his shirt is open at the neckline, like then. I wonder if he wears those necklaces underneath. He slips a hand into his pocket. Like then. Yeah, he probably does. As he tilts his lips into another smile, a dimple graces the corner of his mouth. I gape, stiff in my chair, nearing the moment when drool begins to trickle down my top. “Miss Hart.” “Huh?” “Are you okay?” Danielle asks. “Yes, I am. I’m really tired. It’s been a long night. My best friend has separated from her husband of five years,” I start reciting, hoping to distract her.
I finally pull up to my feet, straighten my back and run my palms over my pencil skirt. As I edge to the glass wall, Shade spins around and walks away. My eyes follow him as he strides to the boardroom. Absently raking my fingers through my hair, I soak in his tall, athletic frame, and then I turn to stone. Wait a minute. A thought zaps through my mind. I swivel around so fast I almost knock Danielle over. I clear my throat and swallow hard. A couple of times. “She, um… looks like she’s in her thirties…” I say, wheezing. “How can she be his mother? How old is he?” “She’s in her late thirties,” Danielle says. “She looks really well, I mean young,” she says, her mind meandering, and I roll my eyes, nudging her to the point. “Oh… him. He’s twenty, maybe twenty-one.” “What?!” I shrill as if I plugged my fingers into a socket. In the office across the hallway, Claire’s secretary pushes her eyeglasses up her nose and telegraphs me an icy look. A couple of messengers bump into each other as they swing their eyes in my direction. “What??” I wheeze under my breath. “Yeah, he’s young. He just got back from overseas. He’s been boarded into one of those schools for rich people in Switzerland and then he went to Cambridge for a couple of years.” I look at her, suspicious. She knows too damn much about him. That should’ve been my business to know before I arched and moaned for him. Ugh!!!
5
TARA THE SALES TRAINING session occupies most of my morning. Around twelve o’clock, I ask Danielle to fetch my lunch, then go straight to my office, close the door, pull the blinds down and eat my salad, quiet as a mouse. The sound of voices and laughter rolls down the hallway as the board meeting comes to an end and people flood the corridor. A long exhale escapes my lips as the noise moves steadily toward the exit. Good thing the next training module starts in more than an hour, so I flip my laptop open and start reviewing the information. A soft knock on the door makes me raise my eyes. “Yes?” Danielle slips in, her eyes darting back and forth as if there’s a fire drill somewhere in the building. “The caterers are here, and Claire wants you to help
them set up the lunch in the conference room.” “Okay,” I say, and lean back against the chair, somewhat baffled. I spend a moment pondering before I rise to my feet, walk to the glass wall and pull the shades open. Across the hall, Claire’s secretary, a poised woman in her sixties with elegant features and a severe mouth, runs her painted nails over a thick binder, her head bobbing as her gaze goes back and forth between the page she's on and the screen. Her eyes fly at me over the rim of her glasses just as I pull the blinds closed and spin around. “Why can’t her secretary do this?’ “Claire wants to make sure everything goes smoothly. They’re already in the boardroom.” “Who’s they?” “I don’t know. She asked me to come looking for you. I guess, some of the board members. It’s a working lunch.” Oh, fuck. She looks at me, intrigued and a bit worried, as I run my hands through my hair and obsessively roll my fingers over my skirt. I take a long breath before I release a silent exhale. I can do this. I have to get a grip on myself first, but I can definitely do it. I’ll go there, do my job, and pretend that nothing ever happened. Chances are, he doesn’t even remember me. Even if he does, I’m pretty sure, he’s moved on by now. Come to think of it, I don’t see why he’d want our encounter to become public knowledge. I worry for nothing. “Okay, okay. Give me a minute.” I walk to the bathroom, and spend a few moments in
front of the mirror making sure all the strands of hair fall neatly in line and my curled eyelashes are perfectly separated. I retouch my garnet lipstick, check the back of my suit, and spin away. Five minutes later, I’m holding the door open as the food crew walks into the boardroom. It’s a large, rectangular room, a wall of glass ushering in the view of skyscrapers and Elliot Bay, all washed with bright sunlight. A large oval table and thick, cushy leather chairs occupy half of the space. A screen hangs on the wall at the other end. I force myself not to look in that direction for fear I might stumble upon a familiar face. The servers set the food trays and platters on the side table, and then one of the caterers grabs the placemats, the cutlery, and napkins, and walks around, arranging them in front of the people. It may be a business lunch, but this is not the usual buffet style event. No paper plates or plastic cutlery in sight either. Per Claire’s instructions, I follow the woman closely, making sure every napkin sits in the assigned square, and every fork and knife on the correct side, all the while I evade everybody’s eyes. Claire makes a presentation, going over the last quarter numbers, the people in the room reviewing the information on their tablets. There are eight men and four women in the room, including my boss and Elia Hennessy. Shade Hennessy can’t be far, if not for the fact that my heart beats somewhere in my groin. Diligently scanning the table, I move around, quiet as a geisha. As I reach the head of the table, and the last napkin finds its place, the man occupying the spot swivels in his
chair and looks up at me, his stare burning my face. I do my best to avoid his eyes, my heart hammering in my chest. Smoothly, I stop at his side and bend over the table, righting the flatware. Something tells me, his eyes crawl up my ass. He pushes his chair back, to get a better view I suspect, while sprawling his long legs under the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him looking up at me, yet I don’t flinch. I hear a soft rustle as he extends his arm and, then… I feel his touch. Keeping his body still, eyes trained on the speaker, he slowly slips his fingers under my skirt, and up my thighs. Heat breaks out on my skin. He can’t possibly do that in a room full of people. And yet, he does, his fingers brushing the back of my thighs, my legs nearly folding under me. Claire calls out my name, and it feels as if a tire just exploded in my head. “And speaking about sales, this is one of our top performers in the company.” Smoothly, I make a step back and to the side, making sure I’m out of his reach. Squaring my shoulders, I raise my eyes to the people in the room. As Claire makes the introductions, I shift my gaze around, and softly nod, my brain tied in a bow. From the other end of the table, the woman with green eyes shoots me a scrutinizing look just as Claire utters his name. “Shade Hennessy. Tara Hart.” Swiveling in his chair, Shade turns his back to the room, a mischievous smile rolling on his lips. He winks at me, and I have to bite the inside of my mouth to suppress my reaction. Acutely aware of how many pairs of eyes are set on
us, I cast him a blank stare and give him a soft nod. Swiftly, I move away, feeling his gaze on my back all the way to the door. Pulseless, I slip out, and as I swing the door and finally breathe, I let my eyes go back to him. Elbows resting on the table, head tilted down slightly, he shoots me a gaze that turns me to mush. Tingling in all the wrong places, I shut the door and crawl back to my office. This is going to be a big, big problem.
MOST PEOPLE LEFT for the day, except Claire of course, and some of the big wigs. Close to seven o’clock, I pack my bag and walk to the window. Carving space out of the urban sprawling, the park behind our building, stretches a blanket of thick vegetation. Old trees and wrought iron benches outline the lake. Long alleys snake past blooming shrubs, a dozen lampposts casting light over the gravel. A couple of dogs do a meet and greet next to a bench, their owners tangled in a conversation. “Hey.” His soft voice falls into my ears, smooth and warm as a lullaby. I spin around, my breath vanishing from my throat. His warm eyes meet mine as my lips part in surprise. Hands tucked in his pockets, he saunters to me, his face beaming with a smile. The sleek, dark suit falls impeccably on his body, a pair of sparkling cufflinks gracing his sleeves. I shift my gaze up to his face, a dash of light setting off his chiseled cheekbones and magnetic eyes.
Tilting his head to the side, he drinks me in as I struggle to remember the last time someone other than Maya, looked at me with so much affection in their eyes. “Mr. Hennessy,” I say, a bit hesitant, my palms coated with cold sweat. “What can I do for you?” I ask, with a business-like voice. I swallow a few times, my throat dry like chalk. He closes the space between us, and out of reflex, I take a few small steps back until I bump into the plant. Inches away from me, he sinks his gaze into my eyes, my inside spinning panic, and emotion. A random thought pushes my eyes to the door. If Claire walks in right now, this will be hard to explain. “There are many things you can do for me, but none of them in this office,” he says softly, with a rasp in his voice that makes me shudder. My chest rises with a gulp of air. His gaze dips. “It’s Shade,” he says, still looking down, and then he raises his eyes, smiling. “Shade,” I murmur, lost in the depth of his eyes. His hand goes to the side of my face, his thumb sliding across my cheek. He studies me for a moment as I tip my head back against the wall and slowly part my lips, my body shivering. Following the contour of my jawline, his thumb tenderly brushes my skin, his eyes captivated by the tender motion. “He came back to you…” he says, sounding disappointed, his fingers stroking my face gently, his gaze centered on my lips. Breathless, I soak him in, unable to speak. “And you took him back, didn’t you?” He flicks his eyes up, making it impossible for me to lie.
“What?” I gasp, my voice shot. Sadness lurks in his eyes as his fingers keep caressing my cheek. “Why did you do that, Tara? You know he’s not good for you.” My eyes mist with tears. Shaking his head slowly, he brings the other hand to my face and watches me intently. “It was a mistake,” I say, my voice barely crawling up my throat. The moment turns surreal as he angles his head and lowers his mouth, his eyes dipping to my lips. A shiver races down my spine, his lips creasing with a smile as he registers my reaction. The sound of dialogue drifts through the air as Claire’s voice rings out outside my office. The light shifts quickly in his eyes, a stern expression sliding on his face. Smoothly, he steps away from me. Fumbling, I run my hands over my jacket. “Okay, Miss Hart,” he says dryly just as two silhouettes fill the doorway. Elia Hennessy shows up first, Claire right behind her. I bring a tissue paper to my face and pretend I’m sneezing, concealing my eyes. “I’m sorry about your allergy,” he comments, cold. “I look forward to working with you this week. It was nice meeting you.” He stretches his hand out, and I offer mine. Observing me with guarded eyes, he gives me a secret squeeze before he steps away and slips out of the office, the two women watching him, intrigued. Snapping out of her surprise, Elia spins on her heel and follows him. Zealously, Claire mimics her move.
I’m watching them walk away when he suddenly stops in the middle of the hallway, forcing Elia to come to a sudden halt. She barely avoids bumping into him. Ignoring her, he turns around and speaks to my boss. “Claire, your office is exactly what I need until mine is ready downstairs. Can you arrange this?” He shoots her a look that leaves no room for debate. “I love the view,” he comments, pointing at the skyscrapers in the distance. The two women swing their heads in that direction, their eyes darting between him, the office and the city skyline. Surprise washes over Elia’s face while Claire struggles to suppress her reaction and resentment. Perplexed, they’re still looking at Claire’s office when he sneaks a glance behind their backs and winks at me. Elia’s head whips in my direction, and his expression shifts to a cold, guarded look again. Tearing his eyes away from me, he sinks his hands into his pockets, and heads for the elevator. This time for good.
SHADE
A CAGE IS A CAGE, whether it’s made of gold, iron, steel or nothing. Whatever the shape, or form, or thickness, a cage is an end. It’s death. The animals know it. Some people know it. But many people like them. That’s why they invented them. They gave them cute names. Security and safety. And then they put others in them.
People, and animals. Sometimes they put themselves in them too. They’ve learned to love them, so much so, they can’t live without them. They make them posh. They make them invisible. Sometimes, they make them out of words or ideas. But in the end, a cage is a cage. The soul knows it. The heart knows it. The animals always know it. Too bad that people rarely listen to their hearts, so in the end it doesn’t really matter. “Why do you hate me, Shade?” I stretch my legs, fold my arms across my chest, and look out the window. The car moves swiftly with the traffic. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I say, glancing back at her. Elia shifts in her seat. “We could’ve done this without the fuss. Why do you have to fight me all the time?” she asks, her manicured fingers brushing a strand of hair in its place. “I don’t fight you. You haven’t seen me fight yet.” I scoop the pack out of my pocket, pull out a cigarette, slip it between my lips and light it up. I crack a window open and blow the smoke out. “This is your future, Shade.” I take another drag. “I fucking doubt it,” I say, and breathe out the smoke in a long white stream. “How can you say that? Would you rather be poor?” I pretend I don’t notice the mockery in her voice and let her wait a few moments before I speak again. “My future is entirely mine. It’s not going to be what you choose for me. It’s not going to be a subplot of your life. You’ve been shaping my life for the past twenty years. I’ve had enough. You abandoned me in that fucking school––”
“I didn’t abandon you,” she says, cutting me off, and anger shoots through my blood. “Shut the fuck up, Elia. You fucking did,” I thunder, and she shifts again, her knees, perfectly aligned, pointing at me. “It’s a top private school, Shade.” “It’s in fucking Switzerland.” “I wish I could’ve had that when I grew up.” “And that’s precisely the fucking problem. It was your fucking dream. As this one is, now. I don’t want to run a fucking corporation. I want to build one when the time is right. I don’t want to slave in one. And you know what pisses me off? I don’t even need to. You can have your minions do the work.” “The reason you feel like you don’t need to do it is because we’re fucking rich. That’s why. You never knew anything else. You would quickly reconsider it if you knew how poor people live.” “I know how people live, and I don’t have to be poor to understand. And stop saying that I’m rich. It’s not my fucking money.” “You have no problem using it.” “No, I fucking don’t. And you know why? Because I fucking paid for it, every fucking day of my fucking life.” She waves me off, annoyed. “Yeah… Whatever… So what’s your fucking dream, Shade?” she scoffs at me. My jaw clenches. “That’s not your fucking business.” “Well, if it’s whores, I hope you have a plan in place because none of this money will pay for women.” A slow smile stretches across my lips. “Are you fucking threatening me, again? I’ve already told you. I’m all game as long as you ensure my supply. I
don’t need to like it, and we don’t need to chat all day about it. I’ll play the part you want me to play as long as you agree to butt out. And for the future, keep Roger out of this. Are we fucking clear?” “I wouldn't––” “Keep him out!” I shout, and she shifts her gaze away. Moments of silence tick by, her eyes following the dancing lights outside. “You know what… I could ask you the same thing,” I say after a while. “Why do you hate me, Elia?” She flicks her head in my direction, her eyes filled with surprise. “I don’t hate you, Shade.” “Then why don’t you let me live?” I ask, and she looks at me lost for words before she swings her gaze back to the window. I put out my cigarette, pop a mint in my mouth, and scoot over to her. Brushing a lock away from her shoulder, I lean toward her and speak with a softer voice. “I know why you do what you do Elia. I understand. I know I can’t make you see things you don’t want to see. And I know, we’re very much the same. You used to be like me, but you’ve changed, and you’ve lost your soul. The thing is, I still fight for mine. I really don’t hate you. I only hate who you’ve become.” The car pulls smoothly in front of the building. I pull away from her, grab my jacket and crack the door open. “I also hate the fact that you let me rot away from you all these years. But that’s fucking life…” I say and slither outside.
6
TARA MAYA’S GONE. She scribbled her mom’s address on a piece of paper and left it on the kitchen table. Matt called, looking for her. Josh called and didn’t leave a message. I take my clothes off and walk into the shower. The warm water rolls over my face, washing off my smudged mascara. Feeling much better, I slip into a robe and grab my phone. Josh answers after the second ring. “You called.” “Oh, yes… Tara,” he says with a nervous voice, and my stomach hurts. I know what he’s about to tell me, and yet I can’t push back the bad feeling coursing through my body. “I… um… I don’t think this thing between us works anymore. I tried, I really did, but there’s not much for me
in it. We’ve been drifting apart for some time, and I, um… I don’t think we can see each other anymore,” he says and pauses for dramatic effect. “Okay,” I say, deadpan. He pauses again. “Is everything all right?” “Yes. Why?” “You don’t sound okay.” “I’m perfectly fine.” “Okay. If you say so.” My hand curls into a fist. “I also think it’s only fair to hear it from me first…” he says and waits a few more moments before he continues. “I’ve been seeing this woman…” “Okay,” I say, not shaken or surprised. Isn’t that what this was all about after all? Isn’t that what prompted his lack of commitment and made him pin all that shit on me so he could justify his actions and feel good about himself? “Listen… you don’t sound like yourself. We can talk some other time.” “No Josh, this time is as good as any,” I say, suppressing the urge to throw the phone against the wall. “Things were not so good between us lately,” he says. “I know, but why are you telling me all this now?” “Um, I thought you'd figure it out on your own…” “Figure what out?” “I don’t think you realize, but you put a lot of effort and energy into your work and not enough into our relationship. You no longer care for me the way you used to.” My fist hits the table. I swallow my yelp and bite my knuckles.
“Is everything all right?” “Yes, Josh. Everything is perfectly fine. How did I not care?” “Your career is all that matters to you. It’s always work, work and more work. There wasn’t much time and energy left for me,” he says, and my eyes roll so hard they could spin out of their sockets. “You have a job too, Josh.” “Yeah, but it’s different.” “How?” “I don’t know, but it is. And the sex was not the same. You used to enjoy it more and be available all the time.” Yeah, he’s right. I used to put more effort in faking it and pretending that I like it. “And then it became so predictable,” he says. “You already told me that. But, you know why it was so damn predictable? Because it sucked from the get go. That’s why.” “That’s your opinion of course…” he says, irked. “It is. Sure. Listen… I’d love to chat with you more, but I have to catch up on my sleep and get ready for my work,” I say sarcastically, and before he gets the chance to answer, I end the call. For a moment I glance at the phone, seriously entertaining the idea of slinging it across the room.
A BULK corporate email arrives letting everybody know that Shade Hennessy occupies Claire’s office across the hallway until further notice. In theory, at least, because I never see him. As much as it annoys her, Claire has her people clean up the narrow space at the end of the corridor, and a
small desk and her computer get propped against the windowless wall. The week flies by uneventfully, and today is the last day of training. It’s late afternoon, and as I wrap up the last session, the door to the small amphitheater slides open, and Shade walks in. He stops not far from the door and folds his arms across his chest, his eyes skimming the audience. My thoughts shatter for a moment, quickly losing track of what I’m saying. I shift my eyes back to the screen, hoping to regain my focus, his stare burning the back of my head. My mind continues to crumble. I try something different and train my eyes on the audience, but my gaze inevitably slides back to him. His head tilts back as he studies me, and panic washes over me. Within seconds, I start skipping words, and lose my train of thought completely. It goes on like that for a few more moments before I space out, more angst pouring in my blood. He pushes off the wall, turns his back to the room and strides toward the exit door. “Miss Hart, can I see you in my office?” he says, loud and clear with the voice of someone who’s about to fire my ass. Claire's eyebrows pinch together in a frown. Hastily, she walks to the front, steps on the stage, and takes over the presentation. I swiftly pull away and follow Shade. He rushes ahead and vanishes around a corner, and by the time I set foot in the hallway, I find only silence. The warm light of the summer afternoon fills the
corridor. The cubicles are empty. All the reps are in the amphitheater while the administrative staff is in the conference room, getting trained on a new software. The door to his office is wide open. Hesitant, I walk in. He shuts the door, locks it and closes the blinds. I blink a few times, adjusting to the dimness. “I’m sorry. I’ve never messed up a presentation,” I say shaken, and confused. “It’s not going to happen again,” I add, grappling with panic. Without a word, he peels his jacket off his shoulders, throws it on a chair, and saunters to me. He swings his arm, and with one sweeping motion, he clears Claire’s desk, tossing everything on the floor. He sweeps me off my feet and sets me on top of it. His fingers brush my knees, gently nudging them apart and then he wedges himself between my legs. Words freeze on my lips. He looks at me, a slow grin draping over his lips. A ray of sunlight sneaks between the blinds, streaming in his eyes, making them look like the ocean at the tropics. “Shade?” “Tara,” he says gently, with a voice I’ve never heard him use with anyone but me. His hands rest on my thighs, softly brushing the fabric of my skirt. He’s waiting. And I know exactly what he’s waiting for. Fear flows through my blood as sweet tension coils inside my belly. “I’m gonna lose my job, Shade,” I murmur. His lips curve and part into a soft crooked smile. “No, you’re not.” “You’re my boss,” I say, tearing my eyes away from his lips. “I like the sound of that, but only when you say it in
my bed.” “I can’t do this.” “You can do whatever you want to. No one can stop you,” he says and runs his hands up my thighs, riding my skirt up. Tingles rush between my legs. As the skirt goes up, his eyes dip, a smile tugging at his lips. “Is this how you usually dress for work?” he asks, puzzled. His eyebrows pop up, his eyes sparkling, amused. He flicks his chin, motioning to the sheer, thigh high black stockings. He pulls my skirt up all the way and slants his eyes to the black lace between my legs, his fingers tracing my cleft through the fabric. Wetness trickles in my core. Biting his lip, he crushes a smile. “Hmm?” he asks again. “No,” I say, barely breathing. He searches my eyes, his smile slowly withering away. “He’s gone, isn’t he?” he says, serious, and then looks down again. “Yes, he’s gone. He’s been gone for some time,” I murmur as if I’m talking about a dead person, my voice filled with resentment and anger. His hand comes to my face. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispers against my lips, and my heart flips and spins in my chest. His fingers slide over my face, his scent and warmth rolling over me as his lips press against mine, his kiss soft and tender. He tears away. Grinning, he looks into my eyes, waiting for my reaction. Without having a second thought, I curl my hand
around his neck and pull him to me. His mouth crashes on mine, his tongue sliding between my lips, his arm coiling around my waist as I wrap my legs around him. Instantly, we connect. Like then. Without many words between us or as much as a promise. He’s leading me and feeding me, his passion flowing through my blood. He slips his hand between my legs, and smoothly pulls the lace aside. Running his fingers up and down between my folds, he throws my clit into a pulsing frenzy. “You like it…” he murmurs, his eyes sparkling, alive, his lips curving into a sizzling smile, the adorable dimple popping at the corner of his mouth. He looks young and so much different than the person in the boardroom. I nod, wordless, and he locks my mouth again, tangling his tongue with mine. A moan falls from my lips as I get a taste of him. Without breaking our kiss, he slips his hands inside my jacket and slides it off my shoulders before dropping it on a chair. He pulls my top down, freeing my breasts, and quickly works the snaps between my legs open. His lips roll over my breasts, showering them with kisses, his tongue sweeping my nipples. He starts to suck on one, and slowly slips two fingers into me, and I arch and moan, my center throbbing. “You really like it…” he mutters, his eyes burning. He moves his fingers slowly, and I grab his shoulder. “Fuck Shade,” I breathe out, overwhelmed by the sensation. “It’s okay, baby,” he says with a soft voice. “Not much has happened to you since last time, huh?” I nod. He looks into my eyes, tenderly cupping my face with the other hand. “I’ll take care of you. All right?” He nudges my back to the desk, and I lie down and
bend my knees as he curls his arms around my thighs, and lowers his head between my legs. His mouth crashes on my clit, his tongue and lips pressing and sweeping and kissing, starting a storm between my thighs. I crush a squeal and arch my back, my fist going to his hair. This is so wrong in so many ways, the least important of which, the fact that we’re doing it on Claire’s desk. He pulls away briefly, softly breathing on my clit. I start shaking. And then, he kisses me gently before he swirls his tongue and presses his mouth, sucking, and stroking harder. I open my legs even more, my back arched like a rainbow, my chest heaving. I muffle a moan when all I want is to scream with pleasure. “You stay quiet for me, baby. Okay?” “Uh-huh.” His tongue slips inside me, and my chest tilts up, my hand pressing on the back of his head, the pleasure building and spinning out of control. Just as I edge, his fingers slip into me again, his tongue stroking my clit, and I go up so fast there’s nothing I can do to stop the soaring pleasure barreling through me. Shaking and panting, I press my hand over my mouth and fight a growl back. “Shade… Oh, Shade.” Clamor fills the hallway as people return to their cubicles. Still throbbing, I bolt upright, zapped by fear. I slide my ass off the desk, pull my top on, collect the jacket and shrug it on before I smooth my skirt, leaving my teddy open between my legs.
Smiling, he adjusts his cock, leans close to me, and kisses me, his swollen lips and tongue tasting like me. I shouldn’t do this right now since we really don’t have much time or an exit plan, but I throw my arms around his neck and pull him into another kiss. He snakes his arm around my waist and melts into me without a care in the world. People start walking by the office, and yet we can’t stop. His lips are firm and silky, his tongue demanding, my mouth responding, famished. Claire’s voice rings out nearby. She knocks on the door, and we finally break the kiss. He brings his finger to his lips, and we both freeze. “Miss Jennings, have you seen Mr. Hennessy.” “I’m afraid I didn’t. We were all in the conference room. He probably left if the office is locked.” “He wouldn’t have locked it.” “Maybe someone else did.” Claire’s voice shifts across the corridor as she spins away from the door. I leap to the window and peek through the blinds. Across the hallway, she presses her face against the glass, cups her hands around her face and looks inside my office through the window. The door is locked, my bag still there, sitting on top of my desk. She keeps inspecting my cubicle as my mind scrambles for a solution. I remember the service door that connects Claire’s office with the stairs, and I motion to Shade. He picks up his jacket, and we slip out the room. He stops me on the stair landing, loops his arms around me and pins me against the wall. I begin to mumble something, but his mouth is already on mine, our tongues rolling greedily, moans
vibrating in our throats. I’m all tingly between my legs, my hips rolling, grinding my crotch against his hard cock, my hands falling to his ass, grabbing him hard. He breaks the kiss, his eyes half closed, his chest rising with a deep breath. “I want more of you, Tara,” he says, his hands framing my face. Cuffing his wrists, I look into his eyes. “But it’s not going to be easy…” he murmurs, somewhat sad. “Do you understand?” “Yes,” I say softly. “You have to listen to me and follow my instructions. Can you do that?” “Yes.” “And it has to be our secret.” “I know.” “Don’t talk to anyone. Especially Claire, and stay away from Elia.” “Okay.” He kisses me again and pulls away. “Shade?” “Yes?” “Only one thing…” “Yes.” “I don’t want to be a toy for you.” His eyes light up with a smile. “You’re not going to be a toy, baby. I promise.” He leans to me and places a kiss on my cheek. “Now go there, and tell Claire I asked you to show me the new offices on this level. If she asks about the desk, tell her I wasn’t happy with the color, and I’d like expresso finish by tomorrow afternoon.” I smile as he rushes down the stairs, slips through a door and strides to the elevator.
I wait a few moments, check my clothing and my hair several times, clear my throat and walk back to my office.
I STROLL ACROSS THE HALLWAY, furtively looking around. Claire’s office, now Shade’s, is wide open, and all the lights are on. Standing in the doorway, Claire barks at her secretary. On her knees, Ms. Jennings picks things off the floor. As I edge closer, Claire swivels to me. “Tara?” “Yes?” “Were you in here with Mr. Hennessy?” “Briefly,” I say, choking on the word. I swing my eyes to the mess on the floor. “Mr. Hennessy would like a different finish for his desk,” I say, pointing at the furniture. Her eyebrows lift so high I’m afraid they’re going to pluck off her face and fall off. Her eyes bulge out, her face flushed with disbelief. Fury makes her lips tremble, and her nostrils flare. She can see defiance written all over her office, especially the trashed desk, and she resents it, wholeheartedly, but there’s nothing she can do about it. At least not to him, anyway. “Okay. I can arrange that. Did he say anything about the presentation?” I blink a few times, thrown off by her question, but I collect myself swiftly. “He offered a few suggestions, and then he asked to see the new offices. I walked with him down there. I also locked the office, since there was no one else on the floor.”
“I see. It makes sense,” she says and looks at me suspiciously, and I bite my lip. Shit. That was way too much information. A different expression glides over her face. “Okay. That’s all. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says dismissively. A sudden bad feeling hovers over me. I dart to my office, grab my bag, and rush to the elevator.
7
TARA THICK CLOUDS FILL THE SKY. It’s a dark morning, and it’s expected to be a rainy afternoon. I didn’t sleep much last night, and the cup of coffee I gulped down in a hurry makes my body buzz. It’s only seven thirty, and it’s still quiet in the firm. I enter the break-room, grab a bottle of water and a fruit yogurt from the fridge and go straight to my office. I slip into my chair, flip the laptop open, pull out a report, and start staring at the screen, my mind completely blank. Soon the place becomes animated, and I finally begin working on my reports. Close to ten o’clock, a crew brings in a new desk. Claire directs the workers as they pull out her old desk and set the new one in the room. I almost pull a muscle, craning out my neck every time I hear a door or a male voice or I catch a tall
silhouette striding down the corridor. Close to lunchtime, I lose hope. He’s not coming in today. Or ever. I munch on my salad when the sound of intermingled female voices travels through the air. Claire’s voice is jovial, clinking like a freshly polished bell while Elia’s is melodious, and filled with laughter. I crane out my neck again and peek through the open door, getting a glimpse of Elia Hennessy walking by Claire’s side. Smoothly, I pull out of my chair, sneak behind my favorite plant, and peer outside. The women stop in the middle of the corridor, not far from my office. Gesturing, Claire explains something to Elia. My boss, a dark-haired woman in her mid-fifties, wears a boxy jacket, a silk blouse, pumps, and a knee length, pleated skirt. Fashioning a black and white, designer dress, perfectly molded on her body, Elia listens attentively. Her dangling, sparkling earrings sway in the air as she slowly nods. Suddenly she spins on her heel and glances in the direction of my office. I duck and dive for the corner, my heart spasming in my throat. A moment later, I go back to the window. Elia looks at Claire, her head still bobbing, their gazes swinging back and forth between our offices. My knees are about to give in as Claire keeps reporting, and Elia nods in agreement. Acid brews in my stomach. Okay. I have to calm down. But no matter which way I spin it, I can’t brush off the panic. There’s no way she knows what happened in that office. Even if she has a suspicion, she can’t possibly
suggest that to Elia. Not without sounding ridiculous and looking like a fool. They enter Claire’s office and walk around the desk. Claire motions to the furniture, and sweat rolls down my back. I’m fucked. I crash into the chair, and freeze. Still, they can’t possibly know for sure. Just because Shade asked to see me and I spent thirty minutes in his company doesn’t mean anything. Who in their right mind, would connect someone like him with someone like me? I take a few long breaths, and by the time I stop hyperventilating the door opens, and Claire walks in. I leap up to my feet, rattled. “Oh, Tara…” she chimes, a cunning smile splashed over her face. “I was explaining to Miss Hennessy what happened yesterday,” she says, cocking an eyebrow. My breath folds at the bottom of my throat, my eyes darting back and forth. “Yes?” “Would you be so kind to give her a brief account of the… um… incident?” Arms crossed over her chest, Elia Hennessy scans me with her piercing eyes. I clear my throat first, and then I offer the same old explanation. I do my best to be consistent while pushing back my emotions, not an easy thing to do under her scrutiny. “So what did Mr. Hennessy say about the new offices?” Elia asks, an amused smile flaring in her eyes. “We were talking about the interior design and the furniture, and the fact that he likes the dark finishes.” “Hmm… I see.” Elia cares to smile politely, but something in her eyes
tells me that what I just said confirmed her suspicion. “Okay, then. Claire, thank you so much for your help.” She spins around and struts away, a smug smile tugging at her lips. I expect Claire to leave. Instead, she closes the door and turns to me, scalding me with her glare. “Take a seat, Tara.” I slump into my seat as she slides into a chair across from me. “Is there anything you need to tell me?” Resting my elbows on my desk, I lift my chin up, and look her straight in the eye, feigning confidence, a trick I learned in sales training. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I say with a firm, unfaltering voice. Leaning back, she unbuttons her jacket, and then fluffs up her bow that looks like a sleepy puppy on her chest. Her hands curl around the armrests. “Okay. Let me spell it out for you. We have a zero tolerance policy for inappropriate behavior in this company.” I hold my hand up. “Let me finish,” she says. “I’m not talking about Shade Hennessy. He can do whatever he wants. It’s his company. You, on the other hand… You should be very careful. The slightest suspicion of inappropriate behavior weighs enough to hurt you. You’ve done so well in this past six months. You have a great future ahead of you. You can climb the corporate ladder, Tara. It’s stupid to waste such a great opportunity for nothing.” Hands clasped together, I study her. She’s definitely fishing. She gives me the good, and the bad, and
everything in between, like someone who has no idea what had actually happened. But she has a guess. And so does Elia. “I still don’t know what you’re referring to,” I say evenly. She holds her hands up and shifts in her seat as if she intends to leave. “Okay, okay… I just thought I should give you a fair warning.” Finally, she pushes up to her feet and fumbles through the content of her pocket. “I found your top-seller rep pen in his office. It was on the floor. I thought you might need it since you’ve used it the entire week in training. And I thought, perhaps, you lost it yesterday,” she says, and tosses the pen on the table. Heat rolls over my face, and I pray the color is not as intense as it feels. “Thank you,” I say, flat. “It must have slipped from my pocket. I completely forgot about it,” I say, trying to act casual about it. She drops something else on the table. “I also found this. Maybe you need to sew it back on,” she says, giving me a catty smile. My mouth drops open. I freeze for a few seconds as I stare at the snap. “I found it near the pen. I imagine it’s yours.” I look up at her, and her malicious smile brings bile to my mouth. This is not only Claire Long, my boss. This is the woman in her speaking to me. She’s going the extra mile to crush me like the little bug that I am, her sheer disgust for me spilling all over her face. “I’m not sure that it belongs to me,” I say. “It could’ve come off any piece of clothing.
“Well… It’s certainly not mine. I don’t wear that type of clothing. I dislike snaps. I find them… unreliable,” she says, a spiteful smile crumpling under her nose. “I’ll let you go back to work,” she says. “By the way, I need your report, Monday morning. At the first hour,” she throws over her shoulder as she walks through the door. I should retort, but it’s futile. I can’t possibly finish the report that she initially had set a deadline for, two weeks from now. Not even if I work straight through Monday morning. I close the door and lower myself in my seat, my body suddenly drained of energy. I see how they’re all connected. The incident, the snap, and the report. Regardless of what will happen from now on, I know I’m losing my job, and it happens faster than I thought. For a good half hour, I’m angry. Mainly at myself. I don’t know why things unravel the way they do, so fast, and all at once. I don’t know what conclusion I am supposed to draw, or what lessons beg to be learned. I’ve tried to do good things all my life, those things that good people are supposed to do. I’ve tried to please my mom, my boss, the man I shared my life with. I’ve done all that without questioning, without asking for anything for myself. And everybody was happy except, as it turns out, me. The moment I dared to be different, things started to collapse. I stride to the window, and for a moment I shift my focus to the park. A young man walks a dog down an alley. I couldn’t even have a dog. My mom was against it. Jason doesn’t like dogs or any other animal for that matter. Come to think of it, he didn’t like me much. Even Claire suggested against it, pointing to my
traveling schedule. He’d complicate my existence, she said. What existence? I let out a sigh, and glance at the clock. It’s close to five. I stack the folders and clean my desk. Today is not the day to stay late. Whether I leave at ten in the evening or now, it will make no difference. As I close my jacket, the door opens, and Danielle walks in with a small box in her hands. She places it on the table. “Delivery for you,” she says. I eye the box, suspicious. “For me? So late?” “Yes, it was dropped off by a messenger.” It doesn’t look like a regular parcel. Wrapped in black paper, it has a shiny golden label attached to it. It looks like a gift. “Can I go now?” she asks. “Yes. I’ll see you on Monday,” I say, without raising my eyes. She walks out, and I lock the door and close the blinds before I open the box. My eyes drop on the handwritten note.
A CAR WILL PICK you up at nine o’clock.
I SLIP my fingers under the swishy paper and brush a piece of silky fabric. Without pulling it out of the box, I unfold a set of lingerie. A low cut, illusion bra, a lace waist corset with adjustable garters and V-string lace panties. All made of black lace, and Swarovski crystals.
A smile flutters across my lips. Someone tries my door, and raps on it impatiently. I drop everything back, push the box under my desk, slide the folders next to my laptop, rush to the door and unlock it. “Can you please not lock yourself in?” Claire bursts in, her gaze sweeping the room. “I just finished off the schedule for next week. You’re out on the field starting Tuesday. Your flight is at seven o’clock in the morning. Oh… and get thick clothes. It’s cold in Wisconsin,” she says, vitriolic, then turns around and storms out.
SHADE
“REMIND ME. Why do we have to share a ride again?” I ask, sending the stream of smoke to my side. “Because it’s a business dinner, Shade. And you’ll get back to the house for the party, anyway.” As the gates close behind us, her phone starts to buzz. She slides her finger over the screen and smiles, content. I try to ignore her, but my gut tells me to pay attention. I wait. She types her little fingers off for a good ten minutes before she drops her phone in her purse, her face glowing. My phone flashes a message. M: She got it. I shove the phone in my pocket.
Running her fingers through her curly hair, she can’t wipe off her smile from her lips, her demeanor making me nervous. “So…” she starts. Here it goes. I stub out my cigarette, run both hands through my hair, fold my arms across my chest, and wait. “Claire Long has confirmed that they’ve brought in the desk you asked for.” My muscles flex under my suit. “Mmm-hmm,” I mumble. “Since when are you so keen on the color of your desk?” she asks, irony seeping in her voice. “Since when do you give a damn?” She huffs. “Really, Shade? You don’t give a flying crap about being in an office, and all of a sudden you’re into decorating the place? Do you really expect me to believe you?” “Honestly, I don’t give a damn what you believe, Elia.” She smirks, her eyes glinting maliciously. I don’t like the expression on her face. Not a bit. “Okay then. Maybe you’ll give a damn about this one. I believe you fucked that sweet, blue-eyed pussycat from the office, on Claire’s desk,” she says bluntly, her eyes on me, gauging my reaction. She’s pushing my buttons, but it’s not going to work this time. I’m not going to play with her. Not now. I need more time. I pin her with cold eyes. “What are you talking about, woman? What pussycat? Have you lost your fucking mind?” I ask, calm. Her smile drops from her face. “Claire showed me the office. The desk was trashed, that woman’s pen and a small snap from her underwear
were on the floor.” “What woman? Who are you talking about?” “Tara Hart, the trainer.” A small puff escapes my lips. “What the hell have you two been smoking? Do you realize how ridiculous you sound? Stop talking to that Claire woman. Your IQ drops. ” “Shade––” “Don’t fucking Shade me! What’s with you and Claire Long? Just because her husband fucked some young chick at the office doesn’t mean everybody does it.” She blanches, and I’m so fucking right. Everything is so damn predictable. It doesn’t take a genius, though. “I don’t know anything about Claire’s life, and this is not about her anyway,” she says. I chuckle. “Oh, yeah… It always is. Otherwise, she wouldn’t sweep snaps off the floor and go commando on her employees. And you have nothing better to do than let her pull you into that shit. I thought the company is about work and being professional, not gossiping. Just…” I pause and hold my hand up for a moment, shaking my head. “Stop talking, Elia. You embarrass yourself.” She looks away, annoyed, but she doesn’t stop. “Like I said, it’s not about her. You took that woman in your office, Shade, and I know you and how women react to you,” she says, batting her lashes. I shift into my seat and turn to her. “Why the hell would I need to fuck her, Elia? I get my cock sucked every fucking night, just the way I want. When they’re finished giving head, they’re out. I don’t need to explain anything to anyone. I don’t need to make conversation or pull anyone in my bed, let alone fuck some pup at the office, on some witch’s desk.”
She shrinks in her seat. “You shouldn’t have trashed her desk then.” “It’s not her fucking desk. It belongs to the company, so tell her to shut up. Even better, I’ll tell her myself, on Monday morning.” “Oh, no, no… Don’t do that,” she says, backpedaling. “It’s not her fault. She didn’t do anything wrong. I asked her to come to me if she sees anything out of the ordinary. That’s all she did.” “Anything related to me, I gather. Because that’s how you build trust Elia, isn’t it? What about this? I’ll work with whomever the hell I want, and you and your dog Claire, back off. How’s that for you?” “Shade?” “I’m done.” The limo pulls to a stop, and I jump out. The driver holds the door for her, and we both walk into the hotel. People greet us as we slither into the vast ballroom. As soon as she’s off grinding other people, I plop into a chair and let out a long exhale. These are going to be two excruciatingly long hours. Throughout the evening I do my best to plant the seeds of doubt in her mind. Every single time she glances at me I have another woman wrapped around me. As sneaky as she is, I know I’m not off the hook. Even if I make her doubt for a moment, her gut tells her otherwise. It always does. So I roll with her, and fuck with her as much as I can. Close to eight o’clock, I get the confirmation that a car waits for me in front of the hotel. I excuse myself and run out the door. Swaying on her heels, she follows me like a shadow. As soon as we step in front of the hotel, I walk past the
limo. “Shade?” “What?” I throw at her without turning. “Where are you going?” I stop short, and spin around. “To the whorehouse for my evening treat. Why?” I ask, unusually calm. “What about the party?” I smile. “I’ll be fashionably late, but I’ll be there.” She wants to say something else. “Bye, Elia.” I sprint to the car, anxious to get to my apartment.
8
TARA THE LINGERIE SET fits me perfectly. It’s way more risqué than anything I’ve tried in the past. I’ve bought my own sets throughout the years, but I’ve always sided with the tamer versions. I pull the trench coat on and slip into a pair of high heels. Black satin ribbons wrap around my ankles, finished up with rhinestones trimmed little bows. I add another layer of mascara, my eyes sparkling like sapphires. The phone starts to ring. “Miss Hart, the car is ready for you.” Thirty minutes later, the limousine pulls in front of a tall building, not far from the Elliot Bay. Squares of bright light and patches of darkness fill the skyscraper. A man waits for me outside. We walk through the lobby, and he shows me to a private elevator. The building looks like a posh hotel without the
guests. The elevator takes me to the top level and opens straight into a private residence. The doors slide shut, and the elevator starts descending as I make the first steps into a foyer. I amble across a marbled floor and reach a big door that’s cracked open. Shade’s voice drifts through the air, soft music humming in the background. Slowly, I push the door open. A large chamber sprawls in front of me. There’s a bedroom with a round bed on the left and a living room with a bar on the right. The wall of glass in front of me opens to a rooftop patio. Pixels of glittering lights fill the view in the distance. The room is dimly lit. He stands next to the flowing curtains, the blue reflection of the pool sparkling behind him. Shirtless and half turned, he talks on the phone. He wears dark suit pants, a white shirt crumpled in his hand. His head is tilted down, his muscular back curved. The sound of my heels against the tiles make him raise his eyes. A slow smile curls his lips as he takes me in. He tosses the shirt on a chair and swaggers to me. A beautifully drawn tattoo stretches on his flank, near his ripped abs. As he slides closer, I make out words and vines that curl around an empty cage. He winks at me and flashes a grin that makes me hot and nervous. “Yeah… no, no. That’s fine. No, not tonight. Okay, then. Thanks,” he says and tosses the phone on a nearby table. He turns to me, his eyes twinkling with a smile. Tingles trail his hands as he slowly slides them across my shoulders and slips them into my hair. He lowers his head and kisses me softly.
“Hey, baby.” My voice fizzles out at the bottom of my throat. Instead, I curl my arms around his neck and press my face against his shoulder. Gently, he strokes my hair. “You made it, hmm?” I nod. “I’m happy to see you, Tara.” “Me too. I, um, want to…” My voice trails off. “Shh. We’ll have enough time to talk.” I look up at him, and he nods softly. “I want to love you, now. Okay?” “Okay,” I mutter. He slips his hand inside my belt and pulls my coat open. His gaze dips on my lingerie clad body, the corner of his lips lifting with a smile. “That’s the way to do it, baby. I never liked too many clothes anyway.” I grin. He tears the coat off my shoulders, frames my face and nudges me against the wall, his lips coming onto mine. My skin burns beneath his fingers as he gently cups my neck and starts kissing me slowly. He smells and tastes like heaven. A hint of cologne meshed with a hint of smoke. His lips, warm and minty. His touch, so sensual. My whole body responds to him, hot and yearning. He looks down at me again, catching the slow rolling of my hips against him. Biting his lip, he shakes his head, raises his eyes and gives me a full mouth smile. “You’re as beautiful as I imagined,” he says, and the heat of a blush rolls on my face. He slides his hand up my thigh, slips his fingers beneath a garter and slowly slips them inside my panties.
A gasp leaves my lips as he brushes the soft, shaven skin at the apex of my thighs. I begin to move against his hand. “You’re so fucking right, baby.” His fingers roll between my folds and then dip into a pool of wetness. “You’re happy to see me,” he purrs against my lips before he slides his tongue into my mouth and thrusts his fingers fully into me. My nails scrape his skin. “You feel good,” he rasps, my core throbbing already. His thumb strokes my clit, and a soft whimper escapes my lips. Trailing the waistband of his pants, I work his fly open, his hard shaft springing into my hand. Hot and pulsing, he grinds against my fist. “Shade… oh… ” My breathing picks up as my body starts to tense. Swiftly, he pulls a condom out of his pocket, rips the foil, and rolls it down. He runs his hand down his length, my eyes right there with it, and then he pulls my panties to the side, and drives his fingers deep inside me. One more time. I clench, my eyes glued to his erection. “That’s good, baby.” He hitches my thigh up on his hip and slowly enters me. “Oh….” I groan, filled to the brim. Smiling, he curls his arms under my rear and lifts me up. My legs wrap around his waist as my back presses against the wall, my weight coming down on him. A muffled scream fills my mouth. “Hurts?” “You’re so hard… and big,” I say, my lips curling into a smile.
“Is that a complaint?” he asks, jokingly. Shaking my head, I softly chuckle. “No. ” He gives me a few slow thrusts, and then his mouth comes onto mine and he starts to pound me. The harder he rams, the harder we kiss. My back slams against the wall, my core hot and wet, my blood ready to explode. “You’re damn good,” I murmur as we lock drunken eyes. His face is flushed, his eyes burning, his lips teasingly pulled into a smile. He hits a sensitive spot inside, just right, and everything comes undone. “Shade…” A spike of pleasure sweeps through me as he pummels me to his climax, groans rattling his chest. Moments later, I touch the ground with shaky legs as he lets go of me. “Give me one minute. Okay?” he says and pulls away.
HE HEADS to the bathroom while I walk to the window. An oval, blue-lit pool stretches across the terrace, the subtle lighting illuminating a few lounge chairs and wicker tables. Moments tick by before I hear his voice again. “You want something to drink?” I spin around. “Okay.” He’s already behind the bar, mixing the colorful drinks and pouring them into the cocktail glasses while I hop on a barstool. Shirtless and barefoot, he walks around the counter. Dark, faded jeans cling low to his hips. A few drops of
cologne glimmer on his clean shaven face. His eyes narrow, amused. “What is it, Tara?” He takes a sip from his drink as I taste my cocktail, my eyes roaming over his pecs, slipping down below his waist. His glass lands on the counter. Holding my eyes, he slides his hands up my thighs, slowly parts them and lodges himself between my legs. I set my glass to the side as well and look into his eyes. Mischief colors his gaze. “Are you old enough to drink?” I ask. The words barely make it to my lips and his smile dies out. My insides twist. “Why do you care?” he says, only half-jokingly. A hint of sadness tinges his voice. I bring my hand to his face, cup his cheek, and run my thumb over his lips. Light sparkles in his eyes. It’s short-lived hope that shines briefly before it falters away as well. “Does it matter to you?” he asks. I slowly shake my head and smile. “No… It doesn’t,” I murmur, and the light comes back in his eyes. I cup the other side of his face, bring him to my lips, and start to kiss him. His arms loop around me as he passionately responds to me. Sweet pain tightens my chest. He’s full of contrasts. Hard to read sometimes and unpredictable, while other times I sense he’s deep and thoughtful, a mystery. We break our kiss. His skin is flushed, his eyes warm and glistening as if he runs a fever. A playful grin tugs at his lips, his fingers slowly threading through my hair, a
different expression crawling up his face. “You’re one of my youngest, you know,” he says, flashing a cheeky smile, a distraction, I believe, to conceal his emotion. “What are you talking about?” I ask, caught in his game. He retrieves a cigarette from the pack sitting on the counter, slips the filtered end between his lips and flips the metal lighter open. Narrowing his eyes, he rolls the flame over the tip of his cigarette and takes a long drag. He tosses the lighter back on the counter. “If it makes you feel any better,” he says without offering more. He blows the smoke up and shoves a hand in his pocket, his gaze holding mine. My eyes slip out of his lock and drift down his body, my gaze sweeping the corded muscles of his arms, the hard bumps of his chest, and then flicking up to the orange glow of his cigarette and his perfect lips. Distracted, I raise my eyes. “You mean…” “Yeah… that’s exactly what I mean,” he says, tossing me a cocky smile. “The women I fuck are usually older…” Tipping my head to the side, I lift my finger and wag it at him, but for some reason, I’m still grinning. He sounds like a spoiled brat right now, and to my surprise, I find it charming. Barely suppressing his laughter, he runs his teeth over his bottom lip. “I mean… older than you,” he says pointing at me with the hand holding his cigarette, and I cock my head to the other side. “You don’t believe me, do you?” he asks.
Tipping his chin up, he looks down at me, a warm smile claiming his eyes, pouring over his sculpted cheekbones, setting off the green glitter between his lashes. “It’s the truth,” he continues. “I believe you.” “Fine. Is there anything else you need to know about my age, Tara Hart?” His playful smile makes me grin. “You are quite a piece of work, Shade Hennessy.” “I am, aren’t I?” he says, stretching his arm out to the ashtray, flicking his cigarette. “But you still didn’t tell me how old you are.” He slides his cigarette between his lips, tilts his head back again, runs his hands through his hair, sweeps it all back, and looks away. Smirking. “You’re not going to drop it, are you?” he asks, talking around his cigarette. He brings his eyes back to me, and slowly runs his gaze down on me, flicking the end of the cigarette with the tip of his tongue. He moves closer, and I pull back, and his eyes sparkle with mischief. He blows the smoke to the side, snubs out his cigarette, and pops a mint. My eyes follow him as he comes back in front of me and slides his palms on the bar on either side of me. Flashing another playful smile, he looks up, and behind me at something hanging on the wall. “In about a couple of hours…” he says, and pauses for effect. I turn my head and follow his gaze. A wall clock sits above the bar. I look back at him. He dips his gaze to my lips before he swings it back
to my eyes. “I’ll be twenty-one. Is that old enough for you?” he asks, serious this time, and I nod, staring at his lips. “Is age that important to you?” “No, it’s not. It’s merely a surprise.” “Why’s that?” he asks softly. “Sometimes you feel older,” I say. His lips begin to curl into a lazy smile. “And…?” I can’t stifle a grin. “And sometimes… I simply wonder,” I say jokingly. “Yes?” “If you’re past eighteen.” He chuckles and I smile. “Keeping things interesting for you,” he says with a smoky voice. “Yeah, that too…” I say, losing my focus fast as he nonchalantly cups my breasts and starts kneading. “Now, if we’re done talking, I’d like to fuck you before I leave for my birthday party.” My heart sinks. His smile falls from his face. I lower my gaze, and he lifts my chin up, his eyes darting back and forth, searching mine. “What is it, baby?” He lowers his head, his eyes leveling with mine. “I’m listening,” he says. “Are you going to be with someone else, tonight?” I ask softly. He studies me, serious, his eyes surprisingly mature. He’s fading in and out of these two versions of himself. Playful and cheeky at times, then serious and deep on occasions, but right now, a different man looks at me, weighing my emotion. His eyes bore into mine, yet he stays quiet and the
delay of his response makes me pull back, suddenly cold. I may have just received the answer. He runs his fingers over my face, studying me, feeding on my reaction. “What is it, Tara?” I look away briefly. “You don’t want me to be with someone else, do you?” he asks me so soft and tender, I start to melt. Right after, his lips slide onto mine, giving me a tender kiss. “What if I’m not going to be with anyone else tonight? Would that make you happy?” For a moment, I examine his eyes, searching for the truth. I nod, and he kisses me again. “I don’t want to be with anyone else tonight. That’s the truth. I don’t even want to be at that party, but I have to go,” he says, and then he tears away from me.
“IS THAT OKAY WITH YOU? If I go…” he asks sincerely, no irony in his voice, and I almost fall from my chair. “Yes,” I murmur while splaying my fingers on his neck. “Good, then… Can I fuck you now?” he asks casually as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He flashes a sly smile, and I grin and thread my fingers through his hair as he leans close to me. “I like this better,” he mumbles as he lifts my thighs, and wraps my legs around his hips. He presses himself into me, his erection straining against his jeans. Our mouths lock, our tongues swirling together. His zipper hisses beneath my fingers as I slide it open. He breaks our kiss and smiles, his thumb brushing my lips.
“I can’t wait to fuck your mouth, beautiful girl…” he says, mixing dirty words and tenderness with the smoothness of a magician. Heat spreads over my face as tingles roll between my legs. I clench my thighs around him. “You’d like that too, huh? But for now… I want to bury myself in that sweet pussy of yours before I go into that den of wolves,” he says, pulling me off the stool and laying me on a table. He peels the panties of me, flicks my bra open and tears it off me. “You’re a beautiful woman, Tara,” he says, running expert eyes over my heels, stockings, garters, and the waist corset. I lie on my back and bend my knees. His hands go up my thighs, his mouth landing right between my legs, his tongue rolling through my folds, licking my clit. I dig my fingers into his hair, and soon he kisses his way up to my chest, his necklace dragging, cold across my body. My breasts roll into his hands, my nipples, hard, beneath his thumbs. He sweeps his tongue over them too, and I arch and moan, dry humping the air. “I need you…” I rumble. He straightens and pulls his shoulders back, and then he narrows his eyes, his chin tilting slightly as he takes me in. Bangs come over his eyes, a carnal smile brushing his face. My legs pull open, my nipples sensitive and puckered. He runs long fingers down his length, deftly rolling a condom. Distracted, I observe the slow motion as he’s stroking his erection. He slides my hips to the edge of the
table, and without breaking our shared stare, he slides his fingers into me. I groan and push my hips against his hand. “That’s good,” he says, propping my legs against his shoulders, smoothly entering me. “Dammit, Shade…” He thrusts again, his fingers strumming my clit, stroking me increasingly faster, tension building inside my belly. “Don’t you dare fucking stop,” I quietly growl, tense, teetering on the edge. A smile slides to his lips, his eyes glinting with arousal as he rams his cock into me. The more he pounds me, the more I ache for relief. He grabs my hips and fucks me hard, his eyes almost closed, his chest rising and falling fast, his fingers sunk into my skin. And then, he opens his eyes and looks at me, his lips parted, softly curved into a smile, intense pleasure soaring through us as we both come undone. “Fuck, Shade…” We shudder, the orgasm rolling through us. It takes a few moments before I finally scale down. Slowly, I pull my legs off his shoulders. Trembling. He slides me off the table, and snakes his arms around me as I twine mine around his neck. Panting, we lean against the table, catching our breaths. “I’m gonna miss you, tonight,” I say. His eyes sparkle with a warm smile. “Me, too,” he mutters and glances at the wall clock. “I’ll drive you home,” he says.
I DRAPE my coat over my shoulders and wait for him next to the window. Minutes later, he strolls out of the bathroom, pulling a T-shirt on. He grabs his cigarettes and the car keys and motions me to the elevator. We ride it all the way down to the underground parking where he shows me to a black Ferrari. Careful not to break a heel, I slip in and slump into the seat. He smiles, amused. “What did I do?” I ask, grinning. Smiling, he shakes his head. “Nothing.” The window at his side rolls down. He lights up a cigarette, steers the car out of the parking lot and pulls onto the road, glancing at me from time to time. The wind tousles his hair, strands sweeping his beautiful profile. He takes a long drag and narrows his eyes, his lips curving into a secret smile. I swing my gaze away and glance out the window. “You okay?” he asks moments later as we get close to my home. We’ve been quiet for a while. “Mm-hmm,” I say and glance at the board clock. “Happy Birthday, Shade!” “Thank you, baby,” he says with a soft, tender voice just as he brings the car to a smooth stop. He leans toward me and locks my lips briefly, his hand cupping mine. “Call me if you need me. All right?” “Okay. Are you really going to call me back?” I ask, looking at him incredulously. “Yes,” he says and smiles. “I told you I want more, Tara, and I mean it.” “So it’s not a whim?”
He lets out a soft chuckle and shakes his head, a few bangs falling in his eyes. He runs his fingers through his hair and combs it all back. “No, it’s not a whim.” “Okay.” “I need something else from you,” he says with a business-like voice. My eyebrows tilt up. “Yes?” “I’ve had my yearly exam this week, and I’ve been tested. I want you to get tested as well.” I look at him, surprised. And a bit confused. “I don’t want to use plastic with you. All right?” He reaches to the board and retrieves a card. “This is my private physician. The exam and tests are complimentary. Call the office in the morning.” He truly sounds like my boss. The boss from fucking heaven, looking and fucking like a God, and with his mind wired right. “Sure.” I take the card, my lips creasing with a smile. Minutes later, still grinning I wave him goodbye and run up the stairs. I have to pinch myself, make sure I'm not dreaming. I can’t fucking believe it.
9
SHADE A BREAKFAST TABLE is set not far from the pool. Thick shrubbery lines the concrete wall with pink, red and white flowers. The sky is crystal clear, the city skyline painted in the distance. The sound of chirping birds mixed with dog barking travels from the neighbor’s backyard. Footsteps draw my eyes back to the house as Chad walks out and strolls across the terrace. He combs his fingers through his raven hair and rubs his muscular neck, blinking to adjust his eyes while pushing back lingering sleep. My eyes stall on his tall, well-built frame as he pours himself a cup of coffee and slides onto the lounge chair next to me. The two women in the pool swivel their heads, overtly soaking in his lean ripped body, the black boxer shorts he wears barely clinging to him.
His charm never fails. Narrowing his eyes, he nods at them softly, his lips curling into a sly smile as he plops a pillow on his lap. I laugh quietly. “It’s morning, man,” he says, grinning. “Give me a break, all right?” His voice is low and raspy. Bangs drape over his obsidian eyes, a stark contrast to his fair complexion. “Some party, man,” he says, his eyes weighing the women, his gaze rolling down their legs as they pull out of the water. He rakes long fingers through his hair, his bicep hard beneath his smooth skin, his lip crushed under his teeth. An all-time favorite trick to capture female attention. The women start to fidget, flashing flirting smiles, competing for his attention. It fucking works. I grin. “Is that what life looks like at home, Hennessy?” he says pointing at the women as they stroll by the pool, wearing eyepatches between their legs and bras the size of stamps on their tits. One is blonde. The other one is a brunette. Water rolls over their skin, tiny glittering beads making them shimmer like prizes. Their tits move lazily with each step. Smirking, I take a sip of coffee. “It’s not what it seems,” I say, and he shifts his eyes to me. “Things the same?” “Yup.” The blonde edges to me, her barely covered crotch inches from my face. She bends at her waist, her breasts dangling in front of me.
Her hand slides on my shoulder as she leans closer to me, and whispers words in my ear, tempting me. Grinning, I sway my head side to side in response. She straightens her back and curves her lips into a sizzling smile, Chad’s eyes sitting on her chest. “Are you sure?” she asks. Shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand, I take in her beautiful grin. “Uh-huh.” “Okay, then… Call us if you change your mind.” “I will, sweetheart,” I say, and wink at them. She curls her arm around the brunette, and they both stroll to my bedroom. “What the hell was that?” Chad asks, plopping another pillow on his lap. The pillows tip over and roll on the floor. We burst into laughter. “Shit man, I thought you got enough last night,” I say. “I got enough all right, but now it’s fucking morning and the thought of you tucked between them makes me hard as hell,” he says, running his hand over his groin, adjusting his erection. “Fucking Hennessy.” I breathe out a chuckle. “You haven’t changed a bit,” I say. “Neither did you, man. What was that all about, anyway?” I put the cup on the side table and pick a glass of juice. “Well, I didn’t fuck them last night.” He rolls to his side, almost falling off the chair. “What the hell was wrong with you, man? Were you that wasted?” I shake my head. “No. It’s not that.”
“Didn’t they just come out from your bedroom?” I grin slyly. “They did, but they’re only a decoy…” “A decoy from what?” I smile mysteriously. This time, he shields his eyes from the sun and studies me. Suddenly awake. “Decoy you say…” he says, examining my expression. “Mmm-hmm.” Revelation rolls over his face. “Sneaky motherfucker. Who are you fucking then?” he asks under his breath. “Is she married?” “No. She works for our company,” I murmur, my eyes trained on the door. “Real fucking, huh?” “Yeah… Real fucking,” I say, smiling over the rim of the glass, “Lucky bastard. Why is it such a big secret?” “I don’t want anyone to know,” I say. The smooth sound of a car engine floats through the air. A door slams, the rhythmic noise of Elia’s heels against the marble floor making my hair bristle. “Especially her,” I say, lifting my chin and pointing to the door as Elia struts through it and heads to us. Chad jumps out of his chair, straightens and smiles charmingly. He stretches his hand out to her, the polishing we received in our boarding school for so many years, shining through. “Elia, you look wonderful today,” he says as she offers her hand, flattered. “Chad. Oh, my God! I’m so glad you made it. I haven’t seen you in a while,” she says, grinning ear to ear. She pushes up onto her toes and hugs him, placing a smooth kiss on his cheek.
Chad glances at me briefly over her shoulder and I smile wryly before she looks at me, and my expression shifts. “Shade didn’t expect you,” she says, flashing a sly grin. “Well, I thought I'd make it a surprise.” “That’s good. How is school?” she asks him while glancing at me reproachfully. I roll my eyes. “Everything is fine.” “It’s good to hear that,” she says, this time throwing me a pointed look. She glances around, scanning the place. “So, how was the party?” Chad trades looks with me. “The party was great,” he says. He follows her as she sashays to the breakfast table. Like a gentleman, he pulls out the chair for her. She would’ve liked a son like him. But then again, I’m not so sure he would’ve liked a mom like her. She gives him a warm smile. Her hands go smoothly over her fitted green dress as she gingerly takes a seat. He pulls another chair out and takes a seat next to her. The sun shines brightly in the background, spreading a soft glow over her face. She glances at me, her eyes examining me, curious. I push up onto my feet, turn my back to them, and walk to the side table. I start piling food on my plate. “Mmm…What happened to your shoulders, Shade?” she asks, munching on her croissant. I cut my eyes to her. She dabs at the corner of her lips with a napkin, her
finger pointing to my back. Chad leans back in his seat, his eyes twinkling with a smile, his bottom lip rolled under his teeth. Pursing his lips, he lifts his chin slightly, his eyes laughing, and instantly I know what she sees on my back. I ponder for a second. “My shoulders?” I give her another glance before I stack a couple of croissants on my plate, and grab a fruit cup. “Yes, your shoulders.” I motion to the chef for an omelet, then saunter to the table and slip into a chair. Chad barely withholds his laughter. “You’re scratched,” she says, pursing her lips to crush a smile. “And?” “You weren’t yesterday,” she says, slightly amused, clearly fucking with me. “And?” Behind her back, Chad tilts his head down and bites his lip, crushing his laughter. I look at her, poker-faced. I know her, and damn sure I’m aware of what she’s doing. Unfazed, she brings the coffee cup to her lips and takes a sip. “Does your pussycat have claws?” she asks, and anger soars through me. She smirks and shakes her head, having a grand old time. “Yes, pussycats do have claws,” I say calmly just as the voices of my two female guests travel to the patio. A door opens, and the two women exit my bedroom and stroll onto the veranda. Fashioning high heels and
skintight, short dresses, they wave at me. I rise from my chair. “If you’ll excuse me,” I say, glaring at Elia. Her smile withers away. I stride to the women, curl my arms around their shoulders, and walk with them toward the exit. As we near the door, I grab the brunette’s ass, turn to the blonde and kiss her goodbye. Five minutes later, they climb into a car and drive away. I scoop a cigarette out of my pocket, light it up and saunter back. Elia’s eyes look suddenly dull. She pushes out of her chair as soon as I take a seat. “It was nice seeing you again, Chad. Send my best to your parents,” she says before vanishing inside the house. Chad’s smile drops from his face. “Fuck, man. What’s her fucking problem?” “I’m her fucking problem. I’m the fucking golden pony, and she wants to run a pony show. That’s what it is. She can’t fucking stand the fact that I don’t want to do what she thinks is best for me. She’s mad I dropped out of college, and she wants to drag me into the family business, but I know better than that. Every fucking day she reminds me I’ll have no money if I don’t follow her plan and play by her rules. I’m sick of fucking rules, especially hers. And then, to top it off she wants me to hook up with some billionaire heiress she found in my bed.” He cocks his head to the side and smiles, amused. “How did that happen?” I rake my hand through my hair and take another drag. “I had no fucking clue who the fuck she was. I picked her up at a party. The only reason I brought her home
was to get a blowjob in the morning. How the hell am I supposed to know?” I say and pull the cigarette out of my mouth. A chuckle escapes his lips. “Tough life, huh?” I wave him off, grinning. “I know she’d like me to marry some asset. She’d love to find me some bore to share my life with. The woman drives me crazy. That’s why I moved out, and from that day on I only fucked paid women. Until I met this girl again.” “Again?” I smile. “Yeah… again. A few weeks back she caught my eye at one of the company events.” I blow out smoke, unable to suppress my smile. “This is the woman…” he says, a grin softening his eyes. “Yeah, the fucking pussycat. Elia calls her that name. Because of her blue eyes…” He crosses his arms over his chest, listening attentively. “So what happened at that event?” “We fucked on a terrace.” His eyebrows pop up, his face washed with surprise. “Are you fucking serious?” I nod, chuckling softly. “Yeah, we fucking did, and she felt so fucking good…” “I bet she did,” he says, smiling. “Elia would mess with her life pretty badly if she finds out I’m seeing her. The thing is she already suspects I hooked up with her, and she’d stop at nothing to destroy her. Speaking of which…” I snatch my phone from the table and dial a number.
“Hey. I need a swipe of my apartment. Yeah… Uhhuh. And can you get a PI to check if I’m tailed? Yeah. Thanks.” I toss the phone on the chair. His smile fades away. “Shit man. It’s that bad?” “Yeah, it’s that fucking bad. We need to talk about something. When do you fly back?” “Sunday evening.” “We’ll go to my apartment once they’re done,” I say, putting the cigarette out. “Let’s swim,” I say, and we pull out of our chairs.
TARA
IT WAS NOT A RELAXING WEEKEND, and it shows plenty on my face. I rifle through my clothing for a good half an hour before I finally settle for a black and cream dress with round neckline and golden buttons. If I get fired today at least, I want to look my best. I put the dress on and glance in the mirror. It’s elegant and sophisticated, but the color makes my face look pale. I guess there’s not much I can do about that right now. Meticulously, I moisturize my skin and spread a thick layer of concealer to hide the dark circles around my eyes before I apply the foundation. As I add the color, my face looks better. I haven’t slept much since Friday. Shade called me once, on Sunday morning, but someone else was in the room, and he couldn’t talk. His friend was supposed to leave last night, yet I haven’t heard from Shade again.
I glance back in the mirror, pondering whether I should put something colorful around my neck. I change my mind and toss the scarf to the side before I opt for a cream jacket with matching golden buttons. I let my hair down. Yes, that’s better. Eight o’clock sharp, I walk down the hallway. I’m not late, but for a Monday morning, it’s tardier than I usually come in. Heads flick in my direction, whispers drifting through the air in my wake. What’s going on? The door at my office is wide open. Standing in the doorway, Danielle greets me with a big smile plastered on her face. A discreet blush tinges her cheeks, her eyes brimming with girlish excitement. “Good morning,” she says, stepping to the side. I walk in and freeze. A colorful display of roses, all colors, and sizes, beautifully arranged in bouquets, fills my office with a fresh scent. My lips curl into a slow smile. “What is this?” “They were delivered this morning,” she says. Out of the corner of my eye, I register Claire’s silhouette peeking over my shoulder. I turn to her. Maybe it’s my tired eyes or the contrast with the colors in my office, but I’ve never seen Claire so pale. Her beige suit doesn’t do much for her, either. She cuts her eyes at me. “The report is not ready. There’s no way I could’ve done it, and you know it,” I say, and then pause, waiting for her to call me in her office and sack me. “That’s fine,” she says to my surprise. “Danielle will
take care of it,” she adds. “There’s been a change of schedule,” she mutters, wincing and bracing her stomach as if she’s about to throw up. “Yes?” “You fly to Switzerland tomorrow. You’ll work in Lausanne, our European headquarters through the rest of the week,” she says, sour as a lemon. “Danielle has your schedule.” She darts away without a word. Sighing with relief, I spin around. The sunlight tumbles in the middle of the room, making the colors look even more vibrant. I search for a card, a message of sorts. Tucked in a bouquet of red and white roses, a black and gold card waits for me, a hand written message inside. I’ll see you Friday in Lausanne. Have a safe trip. My knees give in. I slide into the chair, smiling.
SHADE
“ARE you out of your mind, Shade?” I pull my shirt on, and I start buttoning up. Smirking, I glance in the mirror, savoring the expression of outrage on her face. She’s lucky I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll just kick back and enjoy the show. “Why’s that, mom?” “Are you really taking her with you?” “Who are we talking about?” She starts pacing behind my back, her hand clasped
on her hip. A staff member walks by, carrying my garment bags. “How long do you intend to stay? Why so many clothes?” she says, eyeing the bags. My fingers comb my hair back as I check my freshly shaven face. “I have meetings till Friday. Would that satisfy your curiosity?” I ask, smiling. “You didn’t answer me,” she snaps. “You didn’t either,” I toss back at her. “As always, I have no fucking idea who you are talking about,” I say, fastening my cufflinks. She puts the other hand on her hip and glares at me in the mirror. I study my reflection, then pivot and check my back. She looks at me as if she has a ticking device under her tongue, ready to go off any moment. “Tara Hart,” she says gravely. “Mmm…” I purr. She no longer calls her the pussycat. “What about her?” I say, grabbing my jacket. “Claire told me she’s traveling with you to Lausanne…” “Oh, Claire… our old friend. Envy much?” I smirk, and her eyes blaze at me. “Still not getting enough cock at home and she minds someone else’s business,” I say. “Shade!” she barks. “Yes, darling,” I say smoothing the lapels of my jacket. I glance at the open door. “I would keep my voice down if I were you. You don’t want your staff to know your business,” I say and wink at her. “Answer me!” she shouts, really getting on my nerves. I spin around and look at her.
“What’s your fucking problem Elia?” I ask, calm. “Why are you taking that woman with you?” she says, her voice lined with frustration. I swagger to the doors, and close them, then stride back, and lean against a chair. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I pin her with my gaze. “What’s that woman to you Elia? She’s nothing more than someone who works for our company.” “You could’ve fucked her here, Shade. Why do you need her on a business trip?” I grit my teeth and clench my jaw, struggling to rein in my anger. “She’s good at what she does. And you’d know that if once in a while you’d get your head out of your ass and pay attention to the business. She comes with me because I want her to train their sales force. I don’t even know why you’re so stirred up. She’s not flying with me. We’re not even working in the same office. Why the fuck are you so bothered, Elia?” She erases the space between us, her eyes filled with venom, and for a moment she looks like a complete stranger to me. In many respects, she is. “You don’t take a young skirt on such a trip, Shade. People will talk. Those who have seniority will resent you. It doesn’t look good. You stir up all sorts of emotions in these people who’ve worked so hard to prove their loyalty to this company.” I narrow my eyes and stare at her, cold. “She’s good, Elia. Her numbers are outstanding. She must do something right. Loyalty is great, but it doesn’t produce sales, and without sales, there’s no money rolling in. Do I really need to explain this to you?” “She’s maybe all that, but she’s young, and she also
looks a certain way. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Really…” A smile stretches across my lips. “Oh, I see. So this is the real problem. She’s a beautiful woman. So if she were someone ugly, perhaps someone like Claire, people wouldn’t have a problem with her, and by people I mean… you.” Huffing, she throws her hands up in the air. “You don’t get it, do you?” she says, smacking her hips with her hands. “Easy… you’re gonna break a nail,” I say, smiling. “Oh yes, I do get it. I get that you’re in my business again. And you know how much I resent it. I’ve been doing what you’ve asked of me, and now I’m going to put my ass on a plane and fly to fucking Switzerland. I’ll be in business meetings all week long, and yet, you have nothing better to do, than come to me with stupid shit. And by the way, just a friendly reminder… If I fuck her, it’s not your damn business,” I say, my voice turning dark. Her eyes throw daggers. I tilt my chin up, motioning her to the door. “Isn’t there a charity you need to run or a pool boy you need to fuck?” Her eyes go crazy for a moment, her hand shooting through the air, landing straight on my face. “You, fucking jerk!” she snarls. My cheek goes numb. Swiftly, I cuff her wrists with one hand and grab her trembling chin with the other. “Now, you listen to me. You’re running out of strikes,” I hiss through my clenched teeth. “I wouldn’t push it if I were you. Unless you’re willing to risk everything for some stupid power play, keep your impulses under control.”
Her eyes dart back and forth, searching for clues on my face. “You wouldn’t do that… You’re not that crazy… It’s your ass at stake as well,” she says, her voice shaking, her confidence crushed, gone. “Why don’t you try me, then?” I ask, smiling. I let go of her chin and step away from her. She freezes in the middle of the room. Slowly, I slip a cigarette between my lips. “Tara Hart is off limits,” I say firmly. “I hope you understand that for your own good.” She looks at me with fresh eyes as if she’s seeing me for the first time. “Now, if you’ll excuse me… there’s a plane waiting for me,” I say, and unhurriedly, I walk away. A vase swishes by me, pulverizing against the wall. Without turning, I raise my middle finger and step outside. Fresh air fills my lungs, bringing me the much needed hope. The evening is warm and windy, and my mood hasn’t been better. The driver holds the door open for me as I slide onto the back seat. A moment later, the limo glides away, and as I take in the tossing lights of Seattle, a good feeling pours into my heart.
10
TARA I GLANCE in the mirror one more time, my blood pooling in my cheeks, vibrating in my neck. Lips pressed together, I ponder for a moment. I’m not sure about this gown. A column dress with a bateau neckline that looks a bit stiff, to say the least. Three evening dresses lie on the bed. I roll my gaze over them, still undecided. It’s a corporate party, and normally, it wouldn’t take me long to pick my attire, but he’ll be there, and that’s enough to make me nervous as hell. I glance at the clock. Time to make up your mind, Tara. I dwell a few more minutes before I peel the dress off me and slip into a black gown with crisscrossed straps and a halter style neckline that plunges down to a wide waistband. A huge bow sits on my neck, my hair covering most of my bare back.
It’s way more risqué than I would’ve liked and totally inappropriate. I guess that’s that. The bottom sweeps the floor before I slip into a pair of high heels and the length adjusts, the gown fitting perfectly. I twirl a few more times, and then I stop and breathe. I’m a ball of jitters. My hands are trembling, my stomach battling a bad case of butterflies. It’s been a week since we saw each other. We spoke briefly on the phone on Monday as he was embarking on his flight. I flew to Lausanne on Tuesday, and I’ve been busy conducting training sessions for the past three days. Flowers have been delivered to my hotel room twice a day with the precision of a Swiss clock, but other than that I haven’t heard from him. Tomorrow, I’m scheduled to fly back home. The phone rings. “Hey, Danielle. Do you have the information?” I ask as I move away from the mirror. “It was initially booked as a one-way trip.” “Okay… Then book a flight for tomorrow evening.” “Well…” “Yes… I’m listening.” “Apparently, you’re flying back on the company’s plane,” she says, and I freeze. By that, she means his plane. A few moments of silence pass by before she clears her throat. “Is there anything else?” she asks. “No, no… That’s fine. I’ll see you next week. Have a wonderful weekend!” I say, my voice a bit shaky.
A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER, I mingle with people in a large event room, my eyes darting to the entrance more often than I’d like. The party takes place in the opulent ballroom of a century-old hotel. The place features high ceilings, crown moldings, and sleek columns, the arched windows, carved staircases and the impressive entrance showcasing the timeless elegance of the past. I cut my way through a group of colleagues, and head to the bar. Francois, a dark-haired man, half French, and half Swiss, a sales manager I know from the training class, slips into a chair next to me. “How do you like Lausanne?” he asks, smiling. I flick my eyes to him. “It’s beautiful,” I say, cheerful and polite. “Do you want another drink?” he asks, his English brushed by a slight accent. “I’m good. Thank you.” He orders one for himself. Somewhere in his late thirties, he fashions a conservative suit, a silk tie, and expensive cufflinks. There’s no wedding band on his finger, and he sends me mixed vibes. Despite acting friendly, I’ve caught him staring at me once in a while something dark lurking in his eyes. He openly examines me as he sips his drink, and I start to fidget, suddenly uncomfortable. “How long have you been with this company, Tara?” he asks, a bit too condescending for my taste. He shifts his position and looks down at me. “Six months,” I say, without a trace of a smile in my voice, no longer trying to hide my discomfort. “Hmm…”
He flashes an insinuating grin. “Are you that good?” he asks, the innuendo hitting me like a ton of bricks. I slide my drink to the side. “What do you mean?” I ask dryly. “I mean, you’ve made quite a headway for someone so young, new with the company and, um… should I say beautiful?” My pulse speeds up as my lips start to quiver. “What is that supposed to mean?” He slips his hand on my bare shoulder, making my skin crawl. “I mean… Who are you fucking, Tara?” he says leaning toward me as if he shares a good joke. My eyes flip wide open, I push his hand to the side and shift in my seat when a voice behind me thunders. “That would be me.”
SHADE
THE MAN’S eyes pop wide. His head jerks in my direction, his curls rearranging themselves over his eyes, his smile vanishing, swiftly wiped off. He bolts out of his stool, almost falling over, his fingers nervously tugging at the hemline of his jacket. “Shade Hennessy. I apologize, um… I didn’t see you coming.” “Who the hell are you?” “Um… I’m Francois Bircher. Sales Manager… Again, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to––”
“Apologize to Ms. Hart, you fucking idiot!” He turns to Tara who looks smaller, cowered in her seat. Her eyes shift away from him. She can’t even look him in the eyes. He mumbles his apology as if his mouth is filled with chewing gum. She nods a couple of times, still not looking at him. I close the space between him and me, my fingers clutching his lapel, purposely crumpling the fabric. “Listen… Francois, I truly hope your sales skills are better than your manners, otherwise… I would spruce up my resume if I were you. Am I clear?” He nods. “Good. Now, get the hell out of my face.” He spins away, quickly getting swallowed by the crowd. I step close to Tara and rest my hand on her back. She doesn’t move. I lean close to her and murmur in her ear. “You okay, baby?” She nods, softly. My hand goes under her hair as I cuff the back of her neck. She turns her face to me, her beautiful eyes swimming with tears. “You come with me, now. Okay?” I say, muttering against her lips. “Yes,” she whispers. I hand her a napkin, wait for her to dry off her tears, and then thread my fingers through hers, and help her slide off the stool. She straightens, and my gaze runs down her swiftly. Perched on her heels, her long hair draped over her back, she looks like a dream. The black gown sets off her small waist, and toned arms. I drink in the outline of her breasts filling the top of her dress. Slowly, I raise my eyes and meet hers. They’re soft,
and still sparkling with tears. Without a care for the people in the room, I lean to her and kiss her lips. “You’re going to be okay, baby,” I say, and she grips my arm in warning. She looks at me, and then glances around, panic streaming in her eyes, and I know what crosses her mind. “Sometimes you just have to try to see if it works…” I say, and her eyes brighten with a beautiful smile. Smoothly, I take her hand and lead her down the stairs. We cut our way through the crowd, and as we reach the first floor, someone calls my name. Without stopping, we walk through the main door. She looks at me, smitten, and a good feeling washes over me. Maybe there is a way. Out of the maze.
TARA
“IS THIS THE PLACE?” I ask. “Yes.” Lake Geneva stretches in front of us, dark and mysterious, sparkling faintly like a giant eye. Lights flicker faintly on the shore across from us. Not far, lampposts spill a pale glow over empty alleys, black benches sitting, mournful, on the side. He kills the engine and turns off the headlights, silence surrounding us like a velvet curtain. Light descending from the moon paints a path of silver across the water. We walk out of the car. “Are you cold?” he asks.
“I’m fine.” He takes his jacket off anyway and drapes it over my shoulders. Propped against the hood of the car, he pulls me in his arms, my back against his chest, his arms curled around my body. Resting my head against his shoulder, I gaze up at the starry sky. A soft wind blows in my hair. “Do you feel better?” he murmurs. “Yes,” I say, the memory of the incident tinging my voice with a hint of sadness. He spins me around to face him and looks at me intently. The moonlight beams over his eyes. I bring my fingers to his face and brush his lips. “I missed you, Shade…” I say. He stares at me for a moment, his fingers sweeping strands of hair away from my face. “I missed you too,” he says, giving me a soft smile. His gaze drops to my lips. Slowly, he peels his jacket off my shoulders and sets it on the side. His hands go to the back of my neck and easily unclasp my dress. The top falls and crumples at my waist, revealing my bare breasts. Threading his fingers through my hair, he drapes it over my shoulders. Tenderly, he touches my mounds, his warm hands sliding smoothly on my skin as he takes me in. He runs his fingers down my neck, and traces my collarbones, his gaze following the motion. We connect eyes briefly before he pulls me into him, and our lips connect in an intimate reacquaintance, smooth and tender as if time and space have never kept
us apart. My fingers slide through his hair and then drift down his neck, sneaking inside his collar. His skin burns beneath my fingers. I pop his buttons open and peel his shirt off his shoulders before I slide it to the side. He captures a nipple in his mouth, his hands kneading my breasts unhurriedly as his tongue circles the sensitive bud. The puckered flesh rolls between his teeth. He bites it and sucks it hard before he shifts his focus to the other one. Smoothly, he reaches behind my back, and pulls my zipper down. The gown falls to my feet. “Shade?” “Yes?” he mutters, his lips hot against my swollen breasts, his hand nudging my thighs open. He sneaks his fingers inside my panties and tugs them down. “Yes?” he murmurs again, his hands cuffing the back of my thighs. “Come to me,” he says as he props his back against the slanted hood of his car. I straddle his chest, and he pulls my sex straight to his mouth. He crashes his lips and tongue on me, and a shudder rams through me, a moan falling from my lips. My hands slide on the car, on either side of his head. Oh, my… Mmm… With one flick of the tongue, he nudges my smooth folds apart and licks the soft, swollen flesh. Pulsing electricity flows through me as he presses his mouth on my clit and tongue kisses it, making me gasp with pleasure. Moaning, I grind my hips against his lips as he groans between my thighs, the wave of pleasure rising.
His mouth trails to my entrance. Licking my wetness, he starts fucking me with his tongue. I scale up fast, my hips shaking. His hands latch on my butt, holding me tight against his face as my body breaks into a million blissful pieces. I’m still clenching, when he lifts me up and pulls me down his throbbing cock. More pleasure courses through my body as I ride him hard, wet and hot between my legs. His shoulders push back, his hips tilting up as the orgasm rams through both of us. Panting, I crash on him, his arms draping around me.
11
TARA “YOU LIKE THIS CAR MODEL…” I say, and he smiles, his eyes rooted on the road. I lift the bottom of my gown and stretch my legs. We’ve been driving for more than an hour. “Yeah, I do… It’s my favorite.” “Perfect for, um… you know…” I pause and purse my lips, crushing a naughty smile. He gives me a side glance, his cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “Eating pussy?” he says, grinning mischievously. I break into laughter, and then I look away, blushing. “Mmm-hmm.” “It is, isn’t it?” he says, amused, as he steers the car onto a different road. Swaying my head, I smile. “You’re such a spoiled brat,” I say, laughing softly. “That, I am not,” he says and looks at me with
laughing eyes, gesturing with his hand, his cigarette tucked between his index and his middle finger. My gaze lingers on his long-fingered hand. I’ve seen male hands. Hands that tell a story. The chunky hands, the too thin hands, and sickly hands, the hairy hands, and sweaty hands. The untrustworthy hands. And then, the strong and tender hands. His hands. “Have you tried many models?” I ask. “Women? Cars? Women and cars?” He holds his palm up in the air and looks at me, smirking. I stay silent. “Yeah… I’ve tried…” he admits softly. “But, I usually stick with something if I like it,” he says. “You mean cars.” He chuckles. “I mean everything.” “Seriously?” “Yeah… I’m loyal like you, Tara,” he says and then looks out the window as he steers the car to the left. I wait for his eyes to come back to me. He finally glances at me. “Unlike you, I’m not loyal to things out of obligation. Especially when they are not good for me.” “What do you mean?” A soft glow rolls over this face as we zoom past streetlights, his eyes sparkling mysteriously as I take in his profile. Straight nose, kissable lips, finely defined jaws. His shirt is open at the neckline, and for a moment, I fight the temptation to slide my hand inside it and stroke his chest. He shoots another glance at me and smiles.
“What I mean is… You’ve been loyal to the wrong things. Sadly, most people are. If they weren’t, the world would be a better place.” “What are those things?” He flicks the cigarette out. “You’ve been loyal to a job you don’t like.” “How do you know that?” “Because I’ve seen you.” “Am I not good?” I ask jokingly. “Yes, you are. Because it’s in your nature to work hard and do things right… But your heart is not there. Am I right?” “I guess you’re right, but most people don’t like their jobs.” “And you don’t think that’s a problem?” “I don’t really have a choice.” “Yes, you do… Anyone who’s that good at a job can do great things on their own.” “I guess… What else have I been loyal to?” “Your man.” “He was not my man,” I say, anger flashing in my voice. He gazes at me. “How long have you been with him?” he asks, serious. Sadness rolls over me. I wrap his jacket around my shoulders and look out the window again. “Three years,” I mutter. “Was it good?” I remain silent. “In the beginning, at least?” “No… not really.” “Was he faithful?” “Probably not. At least not in the end.”
“Did you love him?” Tears pool in my eyes. “No, I don’t think so, but I loved the idea of being in love.” I swivel my head back to him. “How did you know all these things about me? That night when we met for the first time…” His hand comes to my face. Pressing my lips on his palm, I lock his eyes for a moment. Melancholy seeps in his gaze, chasing his smile away. “It’s not that hard. We’re not much different, Tara. I’ve been trapped in a life I didn’t want. I know how it feels. It was a different situation for me, but the result was the same.” He brings my hand to his lips and places a soft kiss on my knuckles. “All I’m saying is… Don’t let this kind of life lock you up. Fight. That’s all there is.” Lost for words, I stare at him. He lights up another cigarette and goes silent. An hour later, we slow down and follow a slanted, snaking road that takes us to a historic hotel. It’s a tall building surrounded by a beautiful view sprinkled with hundreds of lights, glass doors guarding the entrance. He turns the engine off. “Where are we?” “The Dolder Grand Hotel.” “That’s…?” “Zurich,” he says, smiling. “Zurich. Hmm. My hotel room is in Lausanne. How do I get back?” “You don’t. Your stuff is…” he pauses and checks the time, “most likely here.”
“Where is here?” “In my suite.” He collects his jacket and climbs out of the car. Holding my hand, he helps me out before he hands the keys to the valet. Hands locked together, we saunter inside. It’s two o’clock in the morning, and the lobby is empty. The front desk clerk greets us with a soft nod and a smile. We cruise along a corridor strewn with museum quality artwork before we ride the elevator up and moments later, we enter a sumptuous suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows outline the space. The furniture has a modern flair, the wooden floors giving the rooms a warm, organic feel, enhanced by the light beaming in the fireplaces. One of the spacious bathrooms comes with a sauna. I get ready for bed before him. A half hour later, he slides under the cover, his skin cold from the shower. He wears a pair of low riding, lounge pants. He crashes on his back, sinking into the pillow. Stretching an arm, he motions to me, and I cuddle against his chest. His arm closes around me, his lips pressing against my temple. “I need to catch some sleep. I’ll fly to Hamburg in the morning,” he says softly, his eyes closed. “That’s okay,” I mutter. His breath steadies, and his fingers start to twitch, dancing on my shoulder, softly tapping my skin as he drifts off to sleep. Just when I think he fell asleep, he purrs in my ear. “I’m happy that you’re here with me, Tara.” My heart thuds in my chest.
“Me too, Shade.” He rolls to his side to face me, and drapes his arm around my body as I glue to his chest. His heart slows down, his fingers no longer dancing, his grip on me slackening. Soft breaths tickle my forehead as he finally falls asleep. Tenderly, I kiss his lips.
THE MORNING LIGHT dances on my eyelids, a soft wind blowing in my hair. Brushing the sheets with my hand, I crack my eyes open. The panoramic view of the Alps and Zurich streams through the open windows. I push up on to my elbows and listen, the new reality slowly sinking in. The sound of running water comes from the shower. I roll off the bed, slip into his shirt, and stroll into the second bathroom. Minutes later I walk into the living room. Wide open, the French doors lead to a large terrace where a breakfast table is set for two. A soft rustle falls in my ears, prompting me to spin around. Sporting a dark gray runway looking suit, a crisp silver shirt, open at the neck and no tie, he swaggers toward me flashing a spellbinding smile. The cologne scent lifts off him, fresh, sophisticated. A smile crawls up his face as he takes in my expression. “Are you leaving?” I ask, pushing back a gasp. “Mmm-hmm,” he says, dragging his gaze down on me, his hands slipping inside my shirt. He flicks a couple of buttons open, and cups my breasts, squeezing them gently.
“You slept well?” he murmurs, a hand drifting to my butt, slowly kneading it. “Mmm-hmm.” Rolling my lip under my teeth, I start undoing his buttons as well. My palms slide across his taut skin as I shower his sculpted chest with kisses. His nipples pucker, goosebumps forming on his pecs. “Baby?” His voice rolls in my ears, hoarse and throaty. Silent, I run my hands inside his jacket and peel it off his shoulders. “Yes?” “I have to go…” he says, grinning, yet he doesn’t move or make the slightest effort to stop me. “I know… but before you go,” I murmur. “Yes?” Amusement flashes in his voice. He looks down at me and runs his thumbs over my nipples as my fingers trace his belt, smoothly unbuckling it. His hot erection meets my palm, my fingers wrapping around it. Heavy eyelids slide over his eyes, his lips parting in a tease. “Baby…?” His voice is soft and quiet. He has no intention of stopping me. “Tell me… what you want…” he murmurs. He tilts his head back, observing me with hooded eyes as I smoothly run my fist up and down his shaft. “Tell me…” he mutters. Pushing up on my toes, I bring my mouth close to his and flick my tongue over his lips.
“Say it…” he rasps. “I want to taste you. I want to suck your cock…” I murmur, and his shaft twitches in my hand. He laughs softly. “Then fucking do it,” he purrs, peeling the shirt off me.
SHADE
SHE TEARS AWAY, eyes the color of the rainy sky drifting down my body. Propped on her knees, she brings her hand to my pants, frees my cock and licks my balls, her hand sliding up my shaft. Threading my fingers through her hair, I tilt her head, summoning her eyes to me. Her lips part, and slide down, my cock thrusting into her mouth. She pulls me out and licks my balls again. “Don’t be a fucking tease…” I rasp, and she gives me a naughty smile. Her lips and tongue slide on my length, the slow motion making my blood boil and cock swell, hardening it even more. Lip crushed beneath my teeth, I keep my eyes on her, her skin turning scarlet with a blush. She starts bobbing her head, and I have to clench my ass to keep myself under control. “I love it,” I murmur, taking in a deep, much-needed breath. Rolling my hips against her mouth, I press her cheek with my thumb, seizing her eyes with a drunken stare. She almost breaks the rhythm.
“Don’t stop…” I say. She picks up the pace, my eyes trained on my glistening cock as it slides in and out her mouth. Her cheeks turn hollow, tangled hair framing her face. The harder she sucks me, the louder she moans. Curving her back, she pushes her ass out, and my balls draw tight, my cock ready to blast its load. Her hips start rolling, dry humping the air. “Come to me, baby…” She shifts her position, and brings her ass close to my hand. Smoothly, I drive my fingers into her. She moans, her pussy clamping as she rocks her hips against my hand. “Fuck, Tara…” I growl, my fist latching on her hair as I fuck her mouth harder. She clenches around my fingers, her squeal rippling through the air. Soon, she starts to shake her butt, and I burst inside her mouth. My cock goes free as I pull my fingers out. Grunting, I pump my shaft, and shoot my cum over her parted lips. Panting, she stares at me, completely lost. I pull her up to me. She trembles like a leaf. “You know what, baby girl… One day, I’m gonna make you fucking mine. Never forget that,” I say against her lips and she looks at me with glistening eyes. “I think you need a different suit,” she murmurs, running her eyes down on me. “I probably do,” I say, already heading toward the closet. Rushed, I change my pants. “You know I have to go home, today.” Her voice travels from the living room. “You don’t go anywhere,” I say, exiting the closet and
fixing my pants. Her eyebrows lift, a questioning look sliding on her face. “I don’t?” “Do you have a cat? A dog? Anyone waiting for you?” She smiles. “No.” “Then, don’t worry about getting home.” “What about my job?” “You’ve been reassigned,” I say, smirking. I point to the table. “There’s money there, and my driver is waiting for you. Do some shopping. Buy some clothes. Something other than suits. “ “What? Why? I have money. Why do I need clothes?” “You fly to Italy. And you have no use for suits there. Please don’t use your money.” “I… um…. Why? Where in Italy?” “On the Amalfi coast. You’ll see.” “Where are you going to be?” she says straightening up, her hair tousled. “Hamburg. My driver will take you to the airport. You’ll fly to Italy tonight, on my private jet.” I pull my jacket on and stride to her. My fingers splay on her cheek as I search her eyes. Her lips begin to curve into a slow smile. “What is it?” I ask. “Was I that good?” she asks jokingly. I let out a soft chuckle. “You were pretty darn good.” I lean and kiss her, and she looks at me frozen. “It was the best I’ve had in a long time,” I say, serious. Her eyes follow me as I tear away. “You okay?” I say, grabbing my cigarettes and my
phone. “Uh-huh.” At the door, I turn and motion to the breakfast table. “Eat something. There’s a butler if you need him.” “I was just about to ask… Where the hell is the damn butler?” she says, grinning, and then rolls her eyes. Laughing, I slip out the door.
12
TARA LAKE ZURICH STRETCHES in the distance, the snow-capped Alps rising peaks toward the sun. It’s warm and breezy, not too hot, perfect for a summer day. I spend most of my morning reading and enjoying the view. Eyes trained on my phone screen, I sip coffee and munch on a croissant, absently scrolling through the numbers. There’s not one person I could call. Not unless I’m willing to lie to them. No one knows where I am or who I’m with. Not even Maya. I stop flipping through the numbers, toss the phone to the side, and root my gaze on the view. As I chew on the last piece of pastry, a hum comes from the table. I flip the phone. Message after message pops on the screen. Maya: Call me as soon as you get this.
Then Josh. I need to talk to you. Then… mom? Josh told me everything. Call me. Oh shit. A small flake of pastry dangles from the corner of my mouth as their words sink in. Mom?! Has he called mom? Is this for real? How dare he do that to me? My brain connects the dots in a mere second. This must be way more than telling her about the breakup. How else could he have gotten my mother smack in the middle? I run a napkin over my lips and struggle to push the last bit of food down my throat. I go over the messages again and call Maya first. She answers immediately. “Where are you?” “Switzerland. Why?” I ask, angst flashing in my voice. “Listen… some shit went down. Josh talked to your mom, and now they keep calling me and questioning me. About you and your job and whatever else is going on in your life right now. Anyway, it turns out they know more than I do.” “They know what?” “That you are on a fucking European trip with some hotshot heir.” Adrenaline soars through my veins. “How would they know that?” “Well… Josh knows.” “How the hell does he know?” “Someone told him,” she says, sounding disappointed. “And by the way, the man is a total ass. I’m glad you’re no longer with him. ”
My hands start shaking, fury clawing at my throat. “Who told him?” “Someone from his work…” “Work?!” “Apparently the person is married to someone from your workplace… A Mrs. Long or something…” “Claire. That’s my fucking boss,” I murmur, my voice flooded with disbelief. “Oh my God! Are you fucking serious?” “Yup. That man gave Josh the information along with his opinion, which is probably his wife’s, but anyway… The thing is, Josh has his balls tied in a knot.” “What does he want?” “I have no fucking idea, but he didn’t mince words, and short of calling you a slut, he called you every other name in the book.” I slouch back against the chair, silent. A few moments pass by. “Are you still there?” “Yes, I am,” I mutter. “Is this about the man from the terrace?” “Yes.” “Oh, my God! Are you serious?” she says with a voice I haven’t heard since high-school. “Why didn’t you say something?” “Because I didn’t know if there’s anything to it. And I still don’t,” I say, my voice shot, but that doesn’t stop her from giggling. “I’m so happy for you. Is he good to you?” “Yes. He’s really good to me,” I say, smiling to myself. “Why then is it such a problem? And what’s the thing with that boss of yours? Why is it her damn business?” “For one, it’s about the company,” I murmur. “But it’s more than that…”
“What do you mean?” “It’s not only my boss who’s keeping track of my business… It’s his mother.” “Oh, shit.” Her voice deflates like a week-old balloon. “That’s not good.” “No, it’s not. She’s had her eyes on me from the beginning, and Claire is one of her minions. ” “Oh… fuck.” “They’ve already planned to fire me, but something has derailed their plans. Not for long, I’m afraid.” “I’m sorry.” “No… It’s fine. I’ve made peace with that. ” “So, what do they want?” I smile, sad. “To get me out of his life.” “Why?” “Because they fear it may mean something, and I don’t think his mom likes that.” “You think she doesn’t like you?” “She probably doesn’t, but that’s beyond the point. I suspect she doesn’t like a woman she can’t control. And with that kind of money at stake, I’m sure she doesn’t like to lose control over him either.” “Oh… I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “Don’t be,” I say, and pause for a few moments. “You know… if it’s too good to be true, it usually is. I didn’t have high hopes anyway. So, I guess, that’s that. I need to go now. I have to call Jason and mom. ” I hang up, place the phone on the table and wait a few seconds, my heart rattling in my chest. I take a few long breaths and focus on the view, hoping to calm myself. The birds fill the air with their melodious sounds, the leaves softly rustling in the wind. I finally call him.
“Hi, Josh.” “What is wrong with you, Tara?” he barks without the slightest introduction. “What are you talking about?” I mumble, thrown off by his vile anger. “What am I talking about?! Your stunt with some silver spoon fed kid you work for,” he snaps. “Excuse me?” “Is that what you are right now? The on-call escort for some rich kid who needs some entertainment on his trips. Is that it? Is this who you were focused on when you said you were working hard to further your career? How long has he been fucking you, Tara? Huh? Oh… I bet you had a grand old time, fucking him behind my back.” I clench my jaw. “What I do is nobody’s business,” I say, trying to keep my voice low, and calm. A sardonic laughter echoes in my ear. “Oh, oh… Excuse me. It’s already everybody’s business. He’s fucking you on the company’s dime.” “It’s his fucking company,” I shout, unable to restrain myself. “So you admit he’s fucking you.” “Listen, Josh… I’m on a business trip. I came here for work. I don’t know where you get your information from, and I still don’t see why my life is your business. We’re no longer together. Remember? Don’t you have something better to do? A woman to fuck?” “This is not about me, Tara.” “Oh, yes it damn well is. Should I remind you about your wandering dick?” “At least I didn’t fuck someone who two years ago was still in high school. For God’s sake, Tara!” “As I said before, it’s not your damn business what I
do and don’t do.” “Oh, of course. So convenient. Well, everybody knows anyway, what you’ve been doing secretly,” he scoffs. “It was not a secret.” “Then, how come your mom didn’t know. And Maya didn’t have a clue either.” I pull the phone away from my ear, seriously entertaining the idea of throwing it over the handrail, if at all possible when a car passes by so it gets crushed under the tires. “Well… There are enough people who know. Isn’t this how you found out? Who told you, Josh?” I ask, getting back in the shouting match. “Claire’s husband told me. He actually felt bad for me. He thought you left me for this… fucking kid.” “Did you tell him, we’re no longer together because you’ve decided to ditch me for some skirt?” “She’s not a skirt, Tara,” he says, sounding angry and hurt. My eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. Oh, my… He wasn’t only fucking on the side. He fell for someone else behind my back. “Really? Who is she, if you care to share?” “She’s someone from work. A serious woman, close to my age… And she knows what she wants.” “By that you mean, you…” “Not that it’s your business, but yes, that’s what it means. I don’t like surprises, Tara. I’m way beyond that point. At least she’s not going to fuck her boss one day the way you did. I can’t tolerate that kind of nonsense. I don’t have time for it.” “And yet, you do have time to call my mom and Maya and mess with my life.” “It’s not only about your life. You put me in a bad
position…” My airways shut closed. Oh, my God! Is he really saying that? “I bet you didn’t think about that when you spread your legs for him… You didn’t care your stupid affair puts me in such a bad light…” “You know… Josh. Once in a while, you should get your head out of your ass and look around. Not everything revolves around you. And nobody owes you anything. Of all the people, me the least. I’m sorry I left you with the impression that my whole purpose in life was to make you feel right and good and safe. It was a mistake on my part, and it was not intentional. You never gave a damn about anyone else, Josh. You always made sure people submitted to your needs, whims, and wishes. You were the one who cheated on me and moved on, and then you blamed everything on me. And now you dare to stick your fucking nose in my fucking business?” “Language, Tara!” he barks, and all the emotions, I have bottled up for so long trying to maintain civility, finally erupt. “Listen, you fucking piece of shit. I don’t give a damn about what you want. You’re not my fucking father, and if you were, you’d fucking hear the same fucking thing. It’s my fucking business who I fuck, and whose cock I suck. It’s not yours, Claire’s or her dimwit husband’s.” “Tara––” “Don’t fucking Tara me! It was a fucking mistake…Us. The time we’ve spent together. It sucked balls. And it sucked the life out of me too. And all along, you did everything you could to make me feel bad about myself while you were busy rationalizing your stupid shit. You always made me feel as if there was something wrong with me, as if I wasn’t good enough or just not enough.
Even now, you come to me with your bullshit, act like you own me or as if I owe you something. I’m not yours. Get it in your head. I was never yours. And you know what? I’m happy it ended that way. It turns out it happened for a reason.” “Oh… really? What reason? Getting hooked up with some kid?” “Stop saying that! He’s not a kid, Jason. He’s a fucking man. He’s more man than anyone I know.” “Oh, is he?” he mumbles, chuckling nervous. “Yeah, he fucking is.” “Clearly it’s not your head talking. He’s twisted your mind, hasn’t he? Even if it’s not about me, Tara, how can you give up on everything, for some fucking fling? He’ll get what he wants, and then he’ll move on. Men like him have no interest in women like you. Not outside their bed, anyway. Is he worth it? Losing your job, me, all the people who care for you…” His words fall through me like rocks, jolting me back to the dire reality. Is he delusional? “Oh, Josh. I didn’t lose you. You were never mine, and to answer your question… Oh, yes he is worth every darn piece of grievance I get from you and everybody else.” “He’s that good? Or it’s all about his money?” “He’s that fucking good, Josh. He gave me the best time of my life. And no, I’m not after his money.” “You’ll regret this, Tara.” “I have no doubt. But not for the reasons that you think.” The sound of a soft rap on the main door travels to the terrace. “I’d love to chat with you more,” I say sarcastically, but I have to go now. A fucking butler is waiting for me.”
IT’S NOT THE BUTLER. It’s a woman about Danielle’s age, who introduces herself as my personal assistant and guide for the afternoon. She waits for me to change my clothes and a half hour later, we walk out of the suite. We take the elevator down to the lobby, a limousine waiting for us in front of the hotel. The driver greets us while holding the door open for us. Soon we head for the shopping district. We spend almost two hours cruising through several boutiques as I pick up a few summer dresses, jeans, and shorts, T-shirts, and a jacket. Early afternoon we ride back. A have a late lunch in the hotel suite. I eat alone, pack my bags, and slither on the veranda. Reluctantly, I call my mom. “Where are you, Tara?” “Zurich.” “Aren’t you supposed to be on a flight back home?” “I’m not,” I say, dryly. “Were are you exactly?” “In a hotel suite.” “Is that his place?” “Who are we talking about?” I ask, pretending I have no clue what she’s talking about. She pauses. “That young man you travel with.” “How do you know about him?” I ask, pulling her into a conversation I know for a fact she abhors. “Josh called me. And by the way, you haven’t told me you broke up with him.”
“I didn’t break up with me. He did.” “Oh, that’s not what he said. It was because of this man?” “No, it wasn’t. Things didn’t work out.” “I don’t understand… Josh is such a great guy. Why would he break up with you? I always thought he was the mature, experienced man you needed in your life. I always hoped you’ll get married and start a family with him. He has a good job. He told me he’s due for a promotion at the end of August.” I roll my eyes. Typical Josh. He likes to score points no matter what. “He could’ve made a great father and a husband,” she says. “He’s with another woman, mom.” “Why didn’t you fight for him? You two should’ve gotten married the first year you met him. These things, if they drag on too long, they never happen.” Maybe for a reason, I retort in my head. The logic behind her words escapes me completely. “Before you know it, you’re going to be thirty. You have to start thinking about kids. Life is short, and good men aren’t that many. You have to snatch one before you end up a middle age woman with a house full of cats. You’re not gonna get anything out of life if you spend your time entertaining young men. I thought you knew better than that. I’ve always taught you to rely on hard work and your brain. You’ve put so much effort into your school and your career, and things were going so well…” I pull the phone away from my ear. Her voice trails off as I let my eyes roam over the beautiful sight. She can’t be possibly saying the same old shit. Moments later, I bring the phone back to my ear. “… you can’t do this to me, Tara. If your father
would’ve been alive––” “Mom… mom. Listen. This has nothing to do with dad or me. It’s not Josh’s business or anyone’s at my workplace. This is my life. These are my decisions. Good or bad, I will make them. They’re part of my life, not yours. Or theirs. Okay? I hope you understand and don’t take it personally. I have to go now. I’ll talk to you when I get home.” “When do you come back?” “I don’t know.”
13
TARA THE SOUND of chirping birds falls in my ears as I teeter on the edge of awareness. I crack my eyes open, push up to my elbows, and take in the view. The Mediterranean Sea sparkles in the distance, blue-green like a giant precious stone. The warm wind plays with the curtains, the wide view of a pristine empty beach streaming through the patio doors. Abundant vegetation crawls up the stairs, wraps around the railing, stopping short of the threshold. Stairs carved in the stone descend to a double level swimming pool, tucked into the sea cliff. A terrace stretches to my right, a round table dressed in azure linen, styled with a white lilac centerpiece, sitting in the middle. Tall glasses of orange juice, and plates filled with fruit wait on the table.
In the background, the blue sky paints an unforgettable image of the Italian summer. My head falls back into the pillow, a happy smile clinging to my lips. I roll to my side and almost fall asleep again when the sheet slides off me, and the mattress dips behind me, a hard, naked body sliding next to mine. His skin is cold and damp and smells like fresh mint. He slides his hands to my chest, his lips trailing down my neck. “Hey, baby.” “When did you arrive?” I ask, grinning. “Late last night.” “You’re cold,” I say, my skin covered with goosebumps. “I won’t be for long,” he mutters, and presses flush against me.”You’re so hot,” he says, and I smile again. He slides his hand down to my stomach, and then lower, his fingers pushing slowly between my folds, his lips planting kisses on my neck. “I could come only from this. You know…?” I murmur, a grin spilling in my voice. “Wait a little longer,” he says, his mouth buried in my hair. “If you can teach me how…” I say and moan softly. “I can teach you lots of things, Tara…” he whispers in my ear, and then he kisses my earlobe. Goosebumps rise on my shoulders, a shiver rolling down my spine. He brings his hand to my backside, and slowly slides his fingers between my legs. “That feels good…” I mutter as he starts moving them in and out. I get wet, and he gets hard, his erection pressing against my ass. He slips his thumb up between my butt
cheeks and starts rubbing my butthole, spurring more pleasure in me. “I’ve never…” I gasp. “I know.” He keeps working the two sensitive spots, and then he coils the other arm around me, his fingers stroking my swollen clit. “Please…” I mutter. “Please what?” I laugh softly. “Don’t stop.” He gradually increases the pressure and pace, and I move my hips with his hand. My chest starts heaving, and then my legs stiffen, the tension and pleasure quickly heading to the peak. He tilts my hips and pressing the hard crown against my entrance, he shoves his cock into me all the way, fueling a swirl of pleasure in my core. “Oh…” I groan. He fills me up again. “Oh… my… Shade.” He rolls me to my stomach and thrusts into me from behind, my center molding on him, washing him with my arousal. “What is it, baby…?” he rasps in my hair, his breath hot, his body hard and tense, his erection twitching inside me. “It’s so fucking good…” I mumble, as he slams into me. “I’m so fucking wet,” I say, our bodies burning. His hand slips under me, his fingers trailing my slit, touching my clit. “And swollen,” he murmurs. “I fucking love this…” I say in a trance as his body moves against mine, filling me over and over again.
“Me too… I love making love to you, Tara…” he purrs, and the words alone throw me into an ocean of pleasure, making me writhe beneath him. He pounds me hard, until he finds his own relief. Moments later, I roll to face him, and he takes me in his arms. “Welcome to Italy, baby!”
HIS EYES REFLECT THE SEA. Capturing the light, they shine, green-blue like the emerald water stretching in front of us. He rests his elbows on the table, his biceps straining against his shirt. The wind blows in my hair, pushing my tresses over my face. I sweep it all in one hand and pull it back to tie it in a ponytail. “Let it down, Tara,” he says, his lips curling into a soft smile that shines in his eyes. Running my fingers through my locks, I comb my hair over my shoulders. He studies me in silence, and blood pools in my face. Nervous, I start playing with a napkin. His eyes drop to my hand, and then swiftly to my body. Today, I fashion a white gauze tunic over a matching denim set, comprised of a rhinestones studded bustier, and shorts. The color sets off my brown hair. He brings his hand to my face. Unhurriedly, he runs his knuckles along my jawline, and then his fingers across my cheekbones. I hold his gaze. Tilting his head to the side, he drinks me in as if he wants to lodge the image of me in his memory, forever. The ghost of a smile flits across his lips.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Tara.” Tense, I smile. He notices it. “What is it?” he asks, tucking a strand of hair away. “Is this going to end once we go back?” I ask quietly. He narrows his eyes and flashes a warm grin. “Do you want it to end?” I shake my head slowly. “No.” “Me, neither.” A few moments pass by as I struggle to voice the next question. “Why me? You could’ve had any woman.” He looks down for a moment before he raises his eyes. “Because you love me.” “Do I?” I smile, blushing, his words taking me by surprise. “Mmm-hmm.” He nods, amused. “That… and you give badass head.” “Shade…” I chide him, grinning as the chef walks on the terrace. Hai finito signore? Finish? Si, grazie, Shade says. A server clears the table before the chef brings us a plate filled with a variety of desserts. I opt for a cup of creamy Tiramisu. Shade chooses a round shaped frozen dessert. “What is that?”I point to his plate while I titillate my taste buds with a teaspoon of coffee-soaked ladyfingers and silky mascarpone cream. “Tartufo di Pizzo, a Calabrese dessert,” he says, sinking his spoon in layers of ice cream. He points to the layered core. “Hazelnut and chocolate ice cream, melted
chocolate, cocoa powder and sugar,” he says, and then he scoops a portion and brings it to my lips. I lick the teaspoon clean. He smiles, amused. “I told you… badass…” “Shade,” I jokingly scowl at him. He breathes out a chuckle. We finish our desserts, and the chef brings him an expresso. “Are you sure you don’t want one?” I shake my head. “I’m fine.” The chef and the server walk away. Another gust of wind throws a handful of Bougainvillea petals over the table. “So when do we go back?” I ask, already nostalgic as I brush them off. “Sometime next week.” “You know, they’re gonna kill me,” I say. “No, they won’t.” “They can’t wait to get their hands on me and sack me,” I say, and then I relay to him the gist of the conversation I’ve had with my ex. The more I dig into the story, the darker he becomes. He leans back against the chair, pulls out a cigarette and places it between his lips. He listens for a moment before he flips the lighter open, brings the flame to the tip of the cigarette, and sucks in a short, firm draw. “So the wolves came out of the den,” he says, his eyes glinting, angry, as he learns about the gossiping that’s been spreading around like fire. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts scrolling down, sifting through numbers. He places a call
and the phone rings a couple of times before the other end picks up. He looks at me, his finger up in the air. I stay silent. “Hi, Roger. Hi… Yeah. Mmm-hmm. Italy. How’s Hong Kong? Oh, I see… When do you come home? I need to talk to you about something… Yeah. Okay. Cool. I’ll see you then.” He ends the call and tosses the phone on the table. For a few seconds, he stares at the ashtray, shaking his head. He puts out his cigarette and rises to his feet, then he stretches his hand out and grabs mine. “Let’s take a ride. I want to show you the coast,” he says, and leads me into the house.
“WHY ONLY ME?” I say pulling the helmet over my head. I balance awkwardly as I straddle the motorcycle. He looks at me, his eyes flooded with laughter. “Why am I the only one who wears a helmet?” He chuckles, entertained, at the same time taking a picture of me looking like an oversized bug. “Because, I say so… And plus you’re fucking adorable,” he says, manning my head like I’m a robot girl before he kisses my squeezed cheeks. He kick starts the bike and revs it up. “Hold on to me, baby.” I straddle it and move close to him, my crotch glued to his butt, my arms curled around his waist, my breasts crushed against his back. I slide my hands to his chest and start kneading his pecs. “We’re not gonna make it too far if you do that, baby,” he says amused, shifting in his seat, adjusting his
erection. I pull back a little. “No, no. Not that far. Come back. I don’t want to lose you.” “You’re not going to lose me,” I say, and it feels as if we’re not talking about the motorcycle ride. Suspended between the mountain and the sea, following the natural course of the coast, the road snakes through rugged landscape and wild scenery. The turquoise sea beams with light, the mountain plunging steeply into the water. We pass through towns with century old buildings, beautiful terraces, whitewashed houses, luscious gardens and picturesque staircases. We make a stop in a fishing village where we taste local food, and then in another town where we take a stroll by foot and eat a slice of pizza on the terrace of a small restaurant. There’s so much to absorb, and everything is so beautiful. We talk and laugh, and he takes pictures of the surroundings and me, and then he asks people to take pictures of us, and sometime between all of that, I have to remind myself that this is real and I’m not dreaming. From time to time, I gape at him. Relaxed and free, he beams with happiness, his spirit shining through so brightly. I start to learn him and see him, and the more I see, the more I lose myself in him. We stop again, this time on a terrace filled with flowers, overlooking the water. We witness a spectacular sunset, painted with beautiful colors. Orange, purple and pink flamingo. As the breezy evening sets in, and people fill the narrow streets of the town, we head back. Minutes later, he pulls in front of a store.
“It’ll take a second. I need to buy cigarettes,” he says. He parks the motorcycle next to the sidewalk and rushes inside a small store. Still straddling the bike, I take my helmet off and flick my head a few times, my hair cascading over my shoulders. Wolf whistling comes from a nearby bench where three men take me in. They’re young, dark-haired, and well-built. One of them strides closer and starts talking in Italian, gesturing widely, and grinning. He brings his fingers to his mouth and smacks his lips. I don’t speak Italian, but I’m pretty sure I know what he says to me. He spins around, dancing comically, working so hard to earn a smile from me while he keeps pleading with me. He wears jeans and a snug fit tank top, his shoulders inked. I look away, and he shifts in front of me, trying to catch my gaze again. Anxious, I glance at the store when the door slides open and Shade strides out, a cigarette tucked between his lips. His eyes narrow as he quickly takes us in. He lunges at the man, grabs the back of his neck and pulls him away. Startled, the man bolts to the side and fights his grip. Surprisingly, he glances at Shade, still smiling, no trace of anger on his face. “Che cazzo vuoi?” the man says, grinning playfully. “Vaffanculo, testa di cazzo!” Shade barks at him after he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, without displaying genuine anger either. The Italian holds his hands in the air, his palms up. “Ma è una bella puttana!” he says, still smirking. Shade curls his lips into a grin.
“Lei è la mia bella puttana,” he says, and the darkhaired man backs away, looking up at the sky, shaking his head dramatically. Shade nears me, and before I can ask or say anything, he cuffs the back of my neck, pulls me to him, and takes my mouth, in a deep, hot kiss, that makes my core tingle and my whole body shudder with pleasure. I curl my arms around his neck, and kiss him back without a care in the world, getting drunk on him. The men witness our kiss, more whistling and catcalling drifting our way. Unfazed, he tears his lips away and smiles. “What did he say?” I ask. “He said you’re a beautiful harlot.” “And what did you say?” He leans close to my ear. “I said… you’re my beautiful harlot, and he needs to fuck off.” He slides his lips over mine again, and our mouths instantly connect. His hands run down my hips. “We need to go home before I fuck you in the street,” he breaths in me, a sense of urgency flashing in his voice, and I couldn’t agree more.
14
SHADE ONCE YOU TASTE freedom you can’t go back. Once you break free and feel that power running through your blood, you get hooked, and if you lose it, everything feels like death. I longed for freedom all my life. All those years I spent under the regimen of other people, men, and women who have decided how I spent every minute of every hour of every fucking day of my fucking life. Every waking hour was filled with nonsense, so I couldn’t feel, play and love, follow my natural instincts or let my heart feel alive. They got us young. Fresh minds, easy to mold, not knowing anything else, eager to learn and comply. They never left us alone. We were always under observation, and everything we did had to be done together, the collective validating the insanity.
But no prison is perfect. In their brilliance, the wards have forgotten about the power of the words. The words of love and wisdom. Ancient, timeless words opening the doors to a different world. They let them flow freely, having no clue they held so much power. They were in the books I had buried myself into. Those words made me see, but what I saw broke my heart. That’s why I always longed for love… and freedom. Voices ring out closer making me crack an eye open. Tara’s voice caresses the few Italian words she’s learned so far. She quietly slips into the room. I peek at her through my lashes. She wears a sheer cotton tunic, cinched at her waist, and embroidered at the shoulders, the neckline laced up with tassels adorned strings. The dress stops mid-thigh revealing her sculpted, bronzed legs. Roman style sandals with crisscrossed straps on her delicate ankles. Her hair tumbles down her back, rich and shining like dark chocolate, standing out against her bright, white dress. The honey tan of her skin sets off her turquoise eyes. “Shade? Baby?” she whispers. Her eyes shine brightly, her face beaming with a smile. She’s morphed into a magnificent, wild and free woman, her beauty and love matched only by her vibrant spirit. She edges to the platform bed and slides her knees onto the bed, hovering over me. I close my eyes completely, her hand sliding on my face. Soft and delicate, smelling like flowers. “Baby? Can you wake up?” I don’t move. She runs her fingers over my face, my lips, and my hair, like a little girl who learns the world
through her touch. I wait. She bends over me and comes close to my face, her breath tickling my lips. I almost smile. She cups the side of my face and leans in, brushing her cheek against mine. “Come… sleepy head, wake up for me.” Softly she plants kisses on my face and my eyelids, and then my lips. “Shade?” A grin lines her voice. “I know you’re awake,” she says and keeps kissing me. “Okay…” she says, playfully. “If you don’t want to do it… then I’ll wake you up.” She’s quiet for a moment, and then the sheet starts sliding off me, the air licking my skin. Her kisses start descending, tracing my chest, and my abs and then her lips slide on the crown of my erection closing around my cock. I stifle my reaction, yet I’m enjoying her touch so much. She rolls her lips and tongue, spreading hot wetness around my shaft. I groan as if I just woke up. “Shade?” “Hmm?” I say, opening my eyes. Her face lights up with a smile, her mouth full. “You taste good,” she says. “And you suck some mean cock…” I say grinning, and bite my lip. “Vera puttana…” I growl, and thread my fingers through her hair as she starts working me with passion. “I hope you don’t insist on wearing that dress today,” I say, cocking an eyebrow. She looks up at me again, her eyes dancing with a smile, her soft lips gliding off my cock. “No, I don’t.”
“Good, ‘cause it’s gonna be a mess,” I say plopping back onto the pillow as she shoves me back into her mouth.
“YOU COOKED ALL THIS?” I say incredulously, my eyes scanning the table. “Yes,” she says, her eyes brighter than the sea. She twirls around, clad in a short, halter style, blue dress with flowing bottom and fitted top. Silver bracelets cuff her arms. Her hand goes over the plates. “Insalata caprese, Cioppino, Pasta con Funghi and my first ever Tiramisu.” “When did you do all that?” “While you were sleeping.” “What time is it?” “It’s two o’clock. You’re not exactly an early bird…” she says and chuckles. I smile. “Yeah… I’m afraid I’m not. I never was. They forced us to wake up early when we were kids. I always hated it with a passion.” Her eyes darken for a moment and I quickly push that memory away. “So tell me about it,” I say, eyeing the food. Her eyes light up again. “Well… I went shopping at the local market, and I bought fresh seafood for Cioppino,” she says, her tongue tying up in a knot. “You did?” I grin, amused by her accent. “Mmm-hmm. Then I cooked. Alberto helped a bit,
giving me a few suggestions, but I did it all alone.” “You’ve cooked Italian before?’ “Nope.” “You like it?” “Yes.” “Then, I trust it’s good.” She walks to the side table for plates. “I told the staff to take a break, so we can eat alone,” she says. I clasp my hands on her shoulders, and she turns to me. She searches my eyes as I lean in and kiss her gently. “Thank you, baby.” She freezes for a moment. “Now, you go and take a seat. I’ll set the table and serve you.” She looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head. For a moment, I fear she swallowed her tongue. “Are you sure?” she finally mumbles. “Yeah… I’m pretty darn sure,” I say. She lowers herself in the chair, watching me attentively as I swiftly slide the plates, flatware and napkins on the table. I place slices of fresh mozzarella and red plump tomatoes, drizzled with olive oil and garnished with fragrant basil on the appetizer plates. “Bread?” “Yes,” she says, still under a spell. “Where did you learn to do that?” she murmurs. “School,” I smile. “I’ve never done it for pleasure, though, not until now, because I’ve never done it willingly.” It’s nothing really, but her eyes get misty, and my heart fills with love for her. We eat and talk for a good hour, and I see how perfect she is. She’s funny and witty, strong and delicate.
She’s grounded like the mountain and deep as the sea. She beams with life. Later in the afternoon, I watch her furtively as she settles into the reading room with a book in her hand, her silhouette ethereal against the soft sunlight and the sea tossing waves in the background. She reads and then she writes something on a piece of paper, a smile creasing her lips. A couple of hours later, she takes the stairs and slips outside the villa. I walk on the terrace and glance around, looking for her. The sun melts into the line of the horizon, ready to set. Shielding my eyes from the light, I gaze down the shore. I spot her on the beach, lying on the sand in a secluded cove, crystalline, shallow water rolling feet away from her. I stroll down the stairs, follow the path drawn by her footsteps in the fine sand and saunter to her. The sunset casts a glow over her. Quiet, I stop next to her and drink her in. Her skin shimmers, sprinkled with specks of sand. A small triangle of turquoise fabric, trimmed with gold, covers her crotch. My gaze slides over her bare chest, my eyes glued to the puckered buds. Hot blood pumps between my legs. Eyes closed, hair splayed over the towel, her body reminding me of the perfect hourglass, she looks like a mythical creature of the sea. Her tanned chest rises and falls rhythmically, her perky breasts swept by the wind. I slide beside her, and prop on my elbow, my gaze coasting over her. She smiles, yet doesn’t open her eyes. Tenderly, I brush her face with my lips, and murmur. “I wish I could be the wind, so I can kiss your face… and breathe all over your skin.”
My fingers trail her collarbone, the smooth valley between her breasts and then her stomach. Her lips curl into a loving smile, her eyes half open, a pair of sapphires shimmering between her lashes. “That’s beautiful,” she whispers, emotion breaking in her voice. She pulls up to her elbows and rolls to her side, her body lean and curved at the same time, her hair waving, smelling like the sea. I roll my fingers down her, caressing the swell of her breasts and following the curve of her hip. My knuckles run across her belly, my fingers snagging the strings of her bikini. I raise my eyes. She cups my face and leans to me, tender and wrapped in her beauty, her lips seducing mine, her sunkissed skin touching mine. She breathes in me the love I so much need while I teach her how to be free. Her mouth is warm and tastes like summer, her touch arousing. Her hand slides in my hair before it traces down my back. “Make love to me, Shade” she murmurs against my lips, and I lay her on her back. I tug at the strings of her bikini and glide them off her thighs before I kick my swimming shorts off. Her hand slips at the back of my neck as my mouth claims hers, pulling her into a deep kiss. She spreads her legs under me and I smoothly, ease myself inside her. Her head tilts back, her eyes half closed, moans rolling off her lips as I slowly thrust. We quickly slip into a trance. I’m drunk on the power I have over her, and yet I’m humbled by the sway she has over me.
Her lips move silent, her nostrils flaring. She opens her eyes and looks at me. Spellbound. We make love on this empty shore, knowing full well we’re not the first and not the last. Our bodies move, entangled, our hearts relishing the moment. I roll my hips harder as her grip tightens on my neck. Her nose creases with pleasure, her eyes becoming unfocused as her body shatters under me.
“WHAT DOES IT SAY?” Her fingers trace the words inked on my skin. Lying in bed, we gaze at the sea from our bedroom, our bodies naked, and caressed by the night breeze. The air smells like flowers. Lit candles illuminate the room, the light spilling over the terrace and the stairs leading to the beach. She shifts in my arms and locks my eyes. “The words, and the cage. What do they mean?” “From all the offspring Of the Earth and Heaven Love is most precious.” “Sappho,”I add, flicking an unlit cigarette between my fingers. Her eyes narrow with a smile. “Have you broken free?” she asks, her fingers splaying over the broken cage tattooed on my torso. My lips curl into a lazy grin. “I’m barely tasting the freedom.” She lays her head on my chest, and I play with the cigarette a few more moments before I slip it between my lips. “What happened to you, Shade?” she asks softly
without looking at me. I roll the flame over the tip of my cigarette, take a drag, and blow the smoke out, smiling at a remote memory. “What happens to many… I was taught slavery, servitude, and guilt before I learned love, freedom and life. They inoculated me with this idea that my life serves only one purpose. To be useful to anyone else other than me. My teachers, my family… Even the business. See, it’s all planned. It always is. Most people can’t see it, but I did, and it felt like a curse.” I take a long drag this time and slowly exhale the smoke. “My mom put me in this school when I was a little boy. One hundred percent boarding, they call it. I spent almost all my life, in that fucking place, bound by rules, schedules and tasks, molded by strangers whom she’d granted full access to my mind. For my own good… you know.” She turns her eyes to me. “I grew up amongst these strangers. They controlled everything. My time, my body and my mind. I could only sleep and eat when they allowed me to. I had to respect the dress code, blazer and tie. I ended up hating the fucking ties. I was locked up with hundreds of kids, and we lived like units, not unique, alive, vibrant, human beings.” My voice thickens with emotion. “That’s what happened. A cage is a cage. Whether you have money or not. People make the cages, not the money.” I run my hand over her hair and kiss the top of her head. Her eyes fill with sadness. “Why did she put you there?”
A pain spears through my heart. A deeply buried ache, that now comes to life, stronger than ever, clawing at my chest. My fingers start to shake, and my lips quiver. “This is a story for another time,” I say, with a strained voice. “She doesn’t want me to be with you… You think she’ll stop?” “No, I don’t think so. But it’s not up to her. I’m not gonna roll over for her. Or anyone else. Not now. Not ever.” The wind picks up, putting out some of the candlelights as silent bolts of lightning illuminate the sky in the distance. “A storm is coming,” I say, my mind drifting away. It’s our last night in Italy.
TO BE CONTINUED.
END OF SHADE, A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (GOLDEN HEIR Series #1)
ALSO BY SHAYNE FORD NIGHT OF THE KINGS SERIES
JAMES (Night of the Kings Series #1) DARK JAMES (Night of the Kings Series #2) TAMING JAMES (Night of the Kings Series #3)
GOLDEN HEIR SERIES
SHADE (Golden Heir Series #1) LOVING SHADE (Golden Heir Series #2) FOREVER SHADE (Golden Heir Series #3)
STEEL SERIES (A Rock Star Romance) Layla’s Story River Steel (Steel Series #1) Loving River (Steel Series #2)
River’s Story (Companion Books to Layla’s Books) RIVER (Steel Series #3) River’s Heart (Steel Series #4)
WILD HEART SERIES, A Menage (Bisexual) Romance
JAGGER (Wild Heart Series #1) LOVING JAGGER (Wild Heart Series #2) LOVING BRAXTON (Wild Heart Series #3) WILD NIGHTS (Wild Heart Series #4) FINDING HOME (Wild Heart Series #5)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Shayne Ford writes New Adult, Erotic Romance novels. 18+ audience only. The male cast includes Rock Stars, Billionaires, Bad Boys, Alphas with a heart, and the sweet, strong man you may find next door. The stories are emotional and deliciously hot. Sometimes they're unconventional, and sometimes they are a bit dark.
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