Because You're Mine

by Marin Montgomery

‘Get it together, Lev,’ I tell myself, a harsh warning reverberating in my head.

  As I’m walking through the heavy foliage, palm trees and shrubs, I hear footsteps behind me and almost scream as a hand reaches out and grabs my shoulder. My initial reaction is to swing. I hear a thwack as my arm connects with tissue. Then a thud. Then a moan.

  I whip around, eyes wide with shock, my heart threatening to leap out of my chest. All I can think about is the cowboy. Or Alec.

  It’s not Alec. It’s not the silver-haired man.

  It’s Jake. Jake Hunter. Villa 19.

  Shit.

  He winces in pain.

  “Oh my God, Mr. Hunter,” I exclaim, “you scared me.” I clap a hand over my mouth. I’m ashamed. And embarrassed.

  He’s stopped in his tracks and waves his arm in the air like I should continue. I don’t, and I can’t.

  “I’m so sorry, Jake,” my apology spews out. “I thought... I thought you were someone else.”

  “Unless you have a stalker,” Jake rubs his face, “I have no idea why that would be your first reaction.”

  I nod but don’t say anything.

  He looks me up and down. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Running,” I say.

  He looks confused. “Running at night?”

  “No.” I look down at the ground, “I was going to go sleep in the break room.”

  “Is something wrong? Did something happen to your home?” Jake breaks into leadership mode, his voice firm.

  I shake my head. I’m quiet. I don’t know what to say. How to say it. What to tell him. He’s a client. Involving him in any of this could get me fired.

  “Look,” Jake says, “I know you don’t know me, and this is probably strange, but I don’t want you to sleep in the break room.” There’s worry etched into the lines on his face. “Clearly, you have a situation. You can stay in the front room of the villa. I promise I’ll leave you alone. I know you have a killer right hook.” He tries for a joke, and I laugh, but it’s forced, considering the circumstances. I can’t believe I hit him in the face. I’m flushed crimson. Thank God, it’s dark. I don’t know what to say. I don’t want Amada or Olivia to get wind of this.

  Jake reads my mind. “This is between us. I promise.” He puts a hand on his chest. “I can be discreet.” Jake reaches down and pulls the key card out of his pocket, his other hand near his eye where I smacked him.

  “Do you want ice?” I feel terrible.

  “Nah,” Jake says, “I’ll tell my staff I took up jiu-jitsu.”

  I look around still uncomfortable about this situation.

  “I’ll head in.” Jake understands my dilemma. “You follow when you’re ready. I’ll get the pull-out bed ready.”

  I start to protest, but he gives me a stern glance. This look must be why he is so successful. I instantly close my mouth.

  I head to the employee lounge and grab some ice. I bring it back to the villa.

  True to his word, Jake got the front room ready for me. The bed is pulled out of the couch, and the blanket and pillow are already laid neatly on top.

  I hear a knock between the front room and his main room.

  “Yes,” I say. “Come in.”

  “Hey, I have to be up early for a meeting, so I’ll probably leave by seven,” the skin near Jake’s eye is starting to bruise, the color of eggplant appearing. I cringe. “Just wanted to give you heads-up since I’ll have to walk through here.”

  “Mr. Hunter,” I start to say. The gold flecks in his eyes shine back at me. He is handsome. “I mean, Jake, here’s some ice.” I grab a towel and wrap some ice chips in it and hand it to him. A grimace is on his face as he presses the Egyptian cotton to his contusion.

  “Thanks.” He turns to head to his room. “Knock if you need me.” He turns back around. “Don’t forget to deadbolt the door.”

  I don’t realize how exhausted I am until my head hits the five-hundred thread count bamboo sheets. The day’s events have my head spinning, and sleep is impossible.

  Being riled up, my nerves are shot. I turn the TV on, then off, never settling on a show. Never calming down as I hear the voice of Kramer on Seinfeld reruns, his crazy mane and insane melodrama usually a go-to when I can’t sleep.

  I snuggle underneath the covers, counting again, a trick that sometimes works. It does not.

  No games on my phone to alleviate the tension.

  There’s a couple of guidebooks and magazines on Arizona attractions. I thumb through them trying to peruse a couple of the articles.

  Even though my nerves are jittery, I feel oddly comforted in Villa 19, Jake Hunter and his muscles a few feet away if I need him.

  My body settles, and I start to feel groggy, a sense of relief washes over me. I slumber. It is not a fitful rest, but enough that I don’t dream of Alec.

  Unfortunately, tonight I dream of Heidi.

  In the morning, I hear Jake moving around getting ready for the day. I keep my eyes closed, remembering how long it has been since I felt safe while I slept.

  I don’t have any clothes besides what I was wearing last night. It’s a plus the resort encourages us to get ready in the employee lounge where we can grab a fresh outfit. They don’t trust us to keep our uniforms as pressed as they would like.

  Jake knocks before he enters the main room. I haven’t sat up yet, and my hair is sticking up in all directions. I try and smooth it down.

  Jake looks at me with concern. “Did you sleep okay?”

  I nod staring at his face. That shiner’s going to be the talk of the company today.

  “I’m sorry,” I say eyeing his injury.

  “I know.” Jake hands me two towels. Smart man, one for my hair, one for my body. “Do you need anything to wear?”

  “Luckily, they provide the uniforms. Gran Vita doesn’t have washers and dryers in our condo units, so it’s best they don’t trust us to wash and iron them. I’ll just change in the employee room.” I pull my purse off the side table and rummage through the contents for my phone. “Can I borrow a charger to take with me? My phone is almost dead.” The low battery display flashes on my phone.

  “Yep, no worries. Take this one.” He unplugs one from the wall and hands it to me. “I have one in my briefcase.”

  “Anything I can do today?” I see I have a missed call from Amada. I’ll return it when Jake heads out.

  “Anger management?” Jake grins, his teeth perfectly even and white. “I left an extra toothbrush out for you. It’s on the sink. The blue one.”

  “No fair, that’s my job.” I offer a benign chuckle. “You’re going to put me out of business.”

  “On second thought, I have some dry cleaning and also, a gala coming up. You mind picking out my attire?” He raises an eyebrow. “Nothing too flamboyant. I don’t like purple. Except for bruises.”

  “No problem.” I’m intrigued. “Is there anything I should know about the event? Black tie?

  I help with a charitable organization, domestic abuse.”

  Jake winks. “Your secret’s safe with me.” The thought of launching the pillow underneath my head enters my mind, but I resist. I’ve already caused enough trouble. The fear of losing my job, being followed, and my life sentence with Alec crosses my mind. I crease my brow in consternation. He notices the change in my demeanor and says, “Can I sit?” He glances at the overstuffed chair next to the bed. I nod.

  “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but seriously, if you need to talk...” His voice is kind. “I think you have my cell, but if you need anything, I’m a butt dial away.”

  “Thank you.” My smile is genuine. “And I’d be happy to dress you for the gala. Am I only shopping for you or do I need to consider matching attire with someone else?” I’m trying not to trip over my words as I say this. I’m curious if he has a girlfriend, but it’s none of my business. It doesn’t matter anyhow. No one else needs to be dragged into my soap opera.

  “Nope. We don’t need to match.�
�� Jake laments, “It’s just a woman I’ve gone out with a couple of times. I’m not good at relationships.”

  “Ditto,” I say. His eyes bore into mine for a moment. I hold his gaze. He taps his fingers on the chairs and then stands up and salutes me. “Have a good day, savage.”

  I bid him adieu, lock the deadbolt, and shower in the massive marble bathroom.

  The sunken tub looks like heaven, but duty calls. I brush my teeth, ignoring the orange toothbrush and grabbing the blue one as instructed.

  My old clothes will work until I get to the lounge. I pick up his room, fold the bed back into its spot, put the blanket and pillow back in the closet, grab the dry cleaning, and head out into the sunshine.

  I start my day off with a fresh change of clothes and a new lease on life. Or at least, I tell myself I have a new lease on life.

  Maybe that man yesterday was random. Nothing to do with Alec. Or me. Maybe it was just the maintenance man. There was a ladder situated there for a reason.

  Granted, I’m on edge and paranoid. It doesn’t sound convincing, but I try to tell myself it could have been a coincidence.

  Being out from under Alec’s thumb is a relief. Realization dawns on me at how miserable I had become playing house with him. He started pushing marriage and a future, and I started pushing away.

  The gorgeous ring had been a test.

  Alec wanted to change me, mold me, into a better version of myself, or so he said. That better version is debatable.

  So, I have learned to listen and change myself for others, knowing full well that love and happiness are not aligned with pretending.

  I had dated someone in college who was my first serious boyfriend. He had been sweet, caring, and completely overwhelmed by my relationship with Eric. It had led to heated fights and sleepless nights. Then it came to a head when Eric and I moved in together our senior year of college.

  “But why don't you want to live with me?” he had whined mercilessly. It never ended, and after a few months, I couldn’t handle the resentment in his voice. I had once again picked my gay best friend over a committed relationship.

  But Eric and I, for all our differences, had an agreement.

  We both came first with the other. Until someone came along that we could see ourselves with, then the other would take a step back. That hadn't happened for either of us until Eric had found Mark.

  I still remember Eric coming out to me.

  Frazzled nerves and sweaty palms as he tried to hold my hands in his. We were still in high school—it was our senior year. Though Eric and I had taken each other’s virginity, we still had an innocence about us. That moment of us giving ourselves away to the other had been the purest form of love. We hadn’t known anyone else, hadn’t had broken hearts or broken others, we still thought love existed like in fairy tales.

  I was a little more skeptical given my childhood, but I tried to believe in the greater good—that someday someone might be worth letting my guard down.

  Eric and I had only made love once.

  After that, it was awkward for a moment, as the gravity of what we had done set in. Our history saved us. It had been beautiful and good, and like an itch, we had scratched it in the desire to know what sex felt like. I could tell Eric was horrified that I had bled on his soft cotton sheets. I was mortified that I was somehow dying or pregnant from this, but he assured me he had put on the condom correctly.

  When he finally sat me down, confiding in me about his sexuality, I was relieved. Our relationship hadn’t developed into romantic feelings. I was worried there was something wrong with me.

  I had always known Eric was a little off. He was awkward around most girls other than me. He didn't flirt. When girls took an interest in him because he was one of the best-looking guys in our class, he seemed taken aback. The few dates he went on, he never took them out again. They were ‘nice girls,’ but nothing ever materialized.

  “How do you know they wouldn’t accept you?” But before the words were even out of my mouth, I knew the answer. Eric’s brother was a fuck-up and was in and out of jail and rehab. He had started smoking dope and then had transitioned to harder drugs before becoming a dealer himself. His parents had weathered a storm with him and then to hear Eric was gay, well, they were religious to a fault.

  I had heard the comments his father had made about gay people, and I knew his mother would disown him. They were always pushing Eric to get a girlfriend, and though they tolerated me, I could tell they wished I would step aside for him to find a girl.

  “Yeah, but no one can know.” He gave me a serious look. “I mean it, Levin.” He never used my real name. “No one can know. Only you. I don’t want it getting back to my parents or the kids at school.”

  I nodded my head slowly. A fellow high school acquaintance had been beaten up pretty severely when he came out as gay. There still wasn’t a tolerance or understanding at our high school and especially in our small, conservative town.

  “Your secret’s safe with me.” I moved closer to him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “I promise.”

  And with that, I made the only promise I have ever made in my life.

  Until now.

  I made a promise to Eric that I would put Alec behind bars. He and Heidi both deserved justice. I had to get proof. Mark and his wife lived here. She was the key to putting him behind bars.

  A recording, something that I could take to the police.

  No one had wanted to believe me in the past.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Alec

  I drive back to my hotel. The room feels claustrophobic, the flowered wallpaper closing in on me. I struggle to breathe.

  The bed is calling to me, the weariness apparent in my slow steps to the bed, like I’m dragging my body through the coals.

  The ring in one pocket, the necklace in the other. Levin, the common link between the two of us. I lay on the ghastly comforter that smells of mildew, pull them both out, threading the silver chain through the diamond band.

  I’ve never been good at competing with others. I consider myself untouchable, so I avoid the thought of being the second choice, the next best. The fact that Eric’s still the center of her universe irritates me. How she can leave a precious gem and keep this cheap necklace gets under my skin. I scratch at my arm as if Eric’s a scab I can pick away. He’s not even here, and he still haunts me.

  The need to know what Levin’s up to and who she’s with suffocates me. I push a pillow over my head and howl into it, careful not to create a disturbance. I despise feeling weak—survival of the fittest—the strongest.

  Weak is an adjective I’d use to describe Eric—not me—scared of his daddy, fearful of his boyfriend leaving him.

  He wouldn’t let the money issue drop with me. He kept hounding me about it. I tried to reason with him. He might be the financial backer—or more precisely, his parents—but I was the one who knew the business inside and out. Though a few deals had gone awry, it was Eric who had fucked us when he fucked the married man.

  The client’s wife is well-connected. Her father had been a business associate of ours which is the only reason that he, too, became one. He had referred Mark to us. Mark had walked in, pinstriped suit, pink tie, and had been nothing short of courteous. But it was clear there were undertones that Eric had picked up on.

  It wasn’t long before those client meetings turned into long lunches and dinners. Eric was slipping on his responsibilities to the business. Other clients weren't handled effectively. Eric was unresponsive to some international clients in town who came to us for business. Red flags were starting to rise.

  That’s when I decided to follow him, or rather, have George take an interest in him. I suspected Eric was gay at times—he had dated plenty of women, but none had stuck. He also seemed apologetic when they left like there was a constant theme to their leaving. I couldn’t put my finger on it. He didn’t treat them bad, I just assumed he had a three-inch cock or was bad in bed.
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  His relationship with Levin concerned me at first. They talked and texted a lot. I thought maybe he pined for her, and she was the one he put on a pedestal. Maybe no one measured up, and everyone fell short.

  He and Levin had an easy banter and a past, but their relationship mirrored more like brother and sister. They acted like family and at times, fought like family.

  Eric was softer and sweeter when he talked about her. He got annoyed at the men she dated, frustrated with her lifestyle choices, and her desire to backpack Europe—he was concerned for her safety.

  George came back to me with the news that not only was Eric gay, his preference for gay clubs and gay dating sites like Grinder a definite indication, but he also had an affair going on.

  Eric was sleeping with our client. I had thought maybe there was a mistake. Maybe they met up to discuss more real estate ventures and didn’t want to include me. I didn’t jive as easily with people as Eric did, he could remember tidbits and banter better.

  The pictures didn't lie, though.

  Eric and Mark locked in a loving embrace, fighting like cats and dogs in a parking lot, a mixture of hurt and resentment on Eric’s face as Mark stared at him, guilt on his face.

  There were more substantial pictures.

  Normally, I wouldn’t care what Eric’s sexual preference was. After all, he was a grown- ass man, but it started to cause waves when he ignored our business.

  I had a conversation with him about it, and he promised he would do better, that he had some personal issues going on. I acted naively and asked him if there was anything I could do to help. I feigned concern when he told me it would work itself out.

  “Health issues?” I pressed. “Are you feeling okay? Have you been getting your yearly physical?”

  He laughed. “Yes, bro, I have been. I just have been dealing with some family stuff.”

  “Is it Levin?” I played dumb. “She seems like a firecracker. I hear you argue over FaceTime.”

  “I wish,” he said. “No, she’s still in Europe, won’t come back to me yet.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I reached into my desk drawer. “I’m here for you, even though you’re a pain in my ass.” I pulled out a cigar. “Here.” I handed him one of the Cuban ones his father had given us when we had started out. “Let’s puff to the good life and a phenomenal year.”