by J B Reding
“You know I will. Plus, Nixon won’t let anything happen to me and even if something does happen, I know how to shoot a gun.” I hug her back and walk out of my room.
“That doesn’t make me feel better.” She huffs, following behind me.
“Well, it’s all I can give you.” I shrug, trying hard not to dwell on it or the fact that I’m actually a little worried, too.
I throw on the blond wig, wink at Liz and descend the stairs, dragging my suitcase behind me. I meet Maddox and my dad at the front door and stop to give Dad a quick hug while Maddox grabs my suitcase. “Love you.”
“Love you, Sweetheart.” He hugs me a little tighter, then let’s me go. I walk out the door and don’t look back.
The full moon is bright, lighting up the driveway as I hop into the passenger seat, placing my bag between my legs. Maddox closes the trunk and slides into the driver’s seat.
It takes about thirty minutes to get to the city from dad’s house, which is situated on the outskirts of Atlanta. Then another fifteen to get to the penthouse. There’re quite a few cars on the streets but Maddox assures me we aren’t being followed.
Maddox pulls the car into an underground parking garage. Then through another gate at the back where he has to scan his retina to open it, allowing him access to a private parking area. He pulls around to the side and parks next to the elevators.
Hopping out first, Maddox grabs my suitcase then opens my door after surveying the area. We step onto the elevator where he yet again scans his retina as well as his handprint before it ascends.
I get shaky as we near the top. My heart pounds and butterflies, or more like a shaken wasp nest, erupts in my stomach at the thought of being locked in a penthouse alone with Nixon. I can’t tell if it’s due to excitement or anxiety.
The elevator doors open directly into the penthouse where Nixon is waiting for us. I step out and take a look around, pulling off my wig and stuffing it into my bag as I walk around Nixon, too enraptured by the space to acknowledge him.
This place looks like something straight off of a HGTV. There’s a sunken living room with floor to ceiling windows that leads out to a balcony with a gorgeous view of the city. He has white sectionals with black accents. Not really what I was expecting from him, it's more my style if I’m being honest. I try not to think too hard on that notion. From here I can see a section of what looks like a drool-worthy kitchen to the left of me. A freestanding staircase next to it that leads to what I assume are the bedrooms. To my right is what looks like a formal dining room and most likely a guest bathroom.
I don’t want to love it, but, God, do I.
I can already imagine the little touches I would incorporate around the space. Which is exactly what he was hoping for, I’m sure.
“Are the windows bulletproof?” I ask, feigning nonchalance. I don’t need him knowing how much I actually like the place. He already has a big enough head.
“Of course.” Nixon chuckles as if he knows how I feel despite my efforts to try and deceive him. He takes my other bag from Maddox and heads towards the stairs. “Come on, I’ll take you to your room.”
“Okay.” I look behind me to Maddox. “Take care of Liz, yeah?”
He grunts with a curt nod.
I follow Nixon up the stairs and past a few doors before we come to a stop. “My room is across the hall if you need anything during the night. I’ll be downstairs discussing some things with Maddox, but I shouldn't be long.” He places my bag down inside the door and steps away. “Goodnight.”
I walk in, leaving the door cracked as I take in my new room for the foreseeable future. I’m glad to see it’s nothing too flashy. A lot of whites and soft grays. There’s a closet to the right of me situated in a corner next to another set of floor to ceiling windows, which have black out blinds already drawn. This man knows me well.
A fluffy white rug spreads out in front of the queen sized bed, which has a white comforter and light gray frame with matching bedside tables and a dresser-mirror combo placed along the wall to the left of me. Next to that is a door that leads to the bathroom.
The bathroom is naturally just as astonishing as the rest of the house.
No shock there.
There’s a huge glass shower with stone walls and several shower heads. A deep-seated tub with jets is set off to the side. A double sink with granite counter tops sits next to the toilet which is separated from the rest of the room with a half wall. I swear this man made this whole apartment just for me.
Even though it's the middle of the night, I decide to take a shower. Let’s just say it’s probably the best shower I’ve ever taken. The multiple shower heads and heated tile was heavenly.
I wrap myself in a fluffy grey towel which was draped over a heated rack while I showered. This place has so many more accommodations than the mansion. It’s a whole other kind of wealthy. I walk out of the bathroom and rummage through my bags, finding a ratty T-shirt and lace thong. I dress and go through my short nightly routine before tossing myself onto the bed. I sigh as my body relaxes into the cloud-like mattress. It’s been a long stressful night and I pass out almost instantly.
12. Dreams
The creaking of the bedroom door rouses me from sleep. I sit up to find Nixon slipping through the opening. He doesn’t say anything as he comes and lays down next to me on top of the covers. I turn on my side to face him.
“What’s wrong?” I murmur. Despite my fear of the dark, night has always been my favorite time for this very reason. It’s when Nixon allows me to see what’s under that mask he wears. No matter what happened earlier that day, under the veil of night everything is wiped clean and we're able to be open and honest with each other.
“I just wanted to check on you. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He murmurs back.
“It’s okay but you didn’t need to check on me, I’m fine. I know I probably shouldn’t be, but I guess I’m used to all this shit.”
“I never wanted that for you.” He scrubs his hands over his face with a heavy sigh.
“Yeah, well, it's not something you can really control, now is it?” I scoot a little closer to him.
“I can try, though.” He says, turning his head to look at me.
“Locking me up in an ivory tower isn’t going to keep me safe. If anything, it’ll put me in more danger. You can’t be naïve in this world; it gets you killed. I know I haven’t seen the worst of it, and I don’t want to either, but this is my life. And as long as you’re in it, I’ll be fine.”
“But will you be happy?” He asks, reaching over to caress my cheek. I lean into him, his touch soothing my battered heart.
“I wasn’t happy in California. Not really. Even though shit has been going on recently, I feel more like myself than I have in a while. Before I was just…” I sigh, “I wasn’t living. I was just getting by. I want more than that.”
“I want more for you, too. It's why I was hesitant on bringing you back.” Why does this man insist on carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders? He has to realize he can’t always be the protector. I’m human and make my own decision, even if they aren’t always the right ones. But if he would let me, he would see that I want to be in this life, in his life, standing next to him through everything.
“It wasn’t really your choice to keep me away from here. Coming home was my decision. It just so happened that we both wanted the same thing in the end.” I explain, needing him to see where I’m coming from. What I want. Because obviously he’s still not getting it.
“But it was my choice. You're mine to protect and keep safe from the danger our life brings.” He declares, his voice growing tense as if he thinks I'm trying to negate his purpose in life.
I sigh, apparently I'm going to have to spell it out for him.
I sit up and look down at him so he knows I'm serious. “You can keep me safe Nixon, but you can’t keep me from this world. That’s what I’ve always tried to tell you. No matter what, this is my world too
. And if I’m being honest, I don’t want to leave it again. I don’t want to be normal. I don’t want a nine-to-five job. I don’t want to worry over trivial shit like what I’ll eat for lunch. I want more. I wanted to come home and stay home. I don’t want to leave again. I don’t care if it's dangerous. You and the guys will keep me safe as much as possible. But I can’t go back to how it was the last four years. I was slowly dying, Nixon. I was never planning on going back. I can’t take the loneliness anymore. I want to be here. With you. Standing by you.”
He sighs. “I knew this would happen. I told your father, but he wanted to believe you were happy. He doesn’t understand how you could want to live this life.” He looks at me, really looks. And I know, for the first time in what feels like forever, he truly sees me. Sees everything I try to hide from the world. Like the darkness that lurks just under the surface, beneath all the bullshit I try to fake. I’m not like everyone else and I never will be. My moral compass is skewed as well as my wants. I think he’s finally starting to acknowledge that, instead of trying to deny it like he always has.
“But I get it.” He admits. Everyone knew one day Nixon would become Boss. Including him. It’s what he’s always wanted. What he’s longed for. What is in his blood. This was the life he wanted to live. Marcus knew it, too, which is why he and my dad have groomed him to take over since he was sixteen.
“I know you do. It's why I like you so much.” I joke.
He gives me a soft smile. “About what happened in the bedroom before the party…”
“Can we not?” I groan, hiding my face in the pillow.
“I think we need to talk about it.” He hesitates.
“I don’t think we do because if you say it was a mistake. I might just shoot you.” I look him straight in the eye, so he knows I’m dead serious.“I was just going to say it changes things.” He places his hand over my mouth when I start to object. “In a good way. Now I don’t have to worry about pissing off your dad and because I'm Boss, that means…” He trails off, leaning closer to me. Just a few more inches and our lips would touch, if only he would move his hand. I grab his wrist and pull it away.
“What are you trying to say?” I whisper. Is this it? Is he finally going to admit his feelings for me? Feelings he has tried to push down and hide for as long as I can remember.
His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The look in his eyes, however, says everything he isn’t. But it’s not enough. I can’t keep guessing when it comes to him.
“I need words, Nixon. You owe me that.” I plead.
“I know, Ember. But words don’t always come out right.” The vulnerability in his voice takes me aback for a second, but it shows he’s letting his guard down.
“Try for me.” I pause. “Please.”
~***~
Please
Hearing Ember beg does things to me. And for once we’re at a place where I can act on my desires. There's only one thing I need to get off my chest first.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about before we go down that road.” There are several, but we’ll start with this one. The others can wait.
“Okay?” She responds hesitantly.
“When my dad died, I went through his study and found evidence of him having an affair with your mother.” I wait for her reaction. However, I sure as shit was not expecting the one I got.
She lets out a laugh. “No shit, Nixon! I think everyone knew. Even dad knew. Back then I couldn't understand why he would send Mom and I to Samuel instead of to you and your dad, but I think his pride got in the way of his judgment. He couldn't send the woman he loved to the man she left him for. I can see he feels a lot of regret over that decision. Like perhaps if he hadn't, she would still be alive. But I learned a long time ago not to dwell on the things we can’t change.”
Well, fuck, I don’t know what to say to that. This whole time I thought I was keeping this big secret but turns out, I was one of the last to know. “You mentioned before that my dad made visits to Samuel’s often?”
“Yeah, Samuels punishments were always worse after that.” She cuts off abruptly, like she realized she's said too much. But I don’t think she's said enough.
“What do you mean his punishments?” I can feel my anger begin to rise as she winces at the venom in my voice. It proves that, more than likely, she wasn’t planning on ever telling me, which just pisses me off further.I debate on whether I should push her, but now that I know there's more to the story, I can investigate it further. Maybe see if Maddox can find anything.
“Okay, I’ll leave it alone for now. But make no mistake, we will be talking about this later. You should get back to sleep.” I make a move to get up, but she stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Stay with me.”
After a pause, I nod. How can I resist her? Especially when, now, I have nothing holding me back.
I slide under the sheets and turn her back to me, pulling her into my chest and settling my arm under her breasts.
Like I said, there's nothing keeping me from finally claiming her. And if I have to take it slow and wait for her to be ready, then that's fine. I’ve waited this long. What's another few days? But that's all she has. Because after that…
She's mine.
13. Teddy Bear
I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my body, another in my hair. I leave the bathroom and decide to check out the closet. I have a feeling I'm going to be staying here longer than I originally thought. Might as well unpack.
Liz is more of the clothes girl. After all, she graduated with a degree in fashion… something, while I majored in English. But I can admire a good closet when I see one. I drag my suitcase over and walk inside… to find it almost filled.
What the fuck?
I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about this.
I know without even looking that everything is in my size.
There's an island in the middle with panties and bras on display as if we’re at Victoria's Secret. My guilty pleasure, I’ll admit. Who doesn't like pretty underwear?
The closet is organized to a T, which I love. Each section specific to the type of clothing: workout, casual, formal, semi-formal. There's even a section for nighties.
As if.
I’ll stick to my T-shirts.
I'm not surprised to see that pretty much everything in here is something I’d pick out. So, either he's a super stalker or he had help.
I quickly slip into a pair of blue lace panties and a bralett before grabbing a pair of soft yoga pants from the shelf and a T-shirt from my suitcase. You can’t give up comfy worn-in T-shirts.
After brushing out my hair, I leisurely make my way to the kitchen, taking my time to peak into the other rooms on this floor. Obviously, I go straight for Nixon's across the hall. It’s surprisingly not locked. The room is clean but lived in as if he stays here more often than the mansion. Yet another question to add to the growing list. I hope I can keep track of all of them.
He has a big king, like an abnormal size, I think it's called a California king. Anyway, it’s ridiculously big and unnecessary. Makes me wonder why he needs such a big bed.
I shake my head at myself and close the door.
The other two rooms are just basic guest rooms. Generic. Nothing exciting. No red room of pain or whatever.
I practically glide down the stairs. I'm not sure why I'm in such a good mood after the shit show that was last night. Maybe it's because I feel like, for once, I'm actually getting somewhere with Nixon.
I round the corner to the kitchen and come to an abrupt stop at the sight of Nixon standing at the stove shirtless.
God, he's fucking hot.
I don’t know what it is about a man cooking you breakfast, but damn does it get my lady parts raring to go. That archangel tattoo just adding to it. It begs to be explored closely.
Very closely.
He turns around before I can ogle his ass in those sweats. Damn shame, too. An ass like his deserv
es attention.
“Morning.” He smirks as if he knows exactly what I was doing.
“Good morning.” I shrug, uncaring I got caught. Maybe if it was before last night, I might feel some embarrassment. But now? Nope. “So, I have some questions…”
He nods like he expected as much and holds out a coffee cup toward me.
I take it from him and steal a sip, stifling a moan at its perfection.
“Now, what's up with the closet?” I raise a brow at him, deciding to start with the easy questions first, just to be nice. Don’t want him shutting me down before we even begin.
He lets out a small laugh. “Wasn't expecting that to be first.”
I shrug again, taking another sip out of my mug.
“I knew you would eventually stay here, so I made sure you’d have everything you needed in case it was a last-minute decision.” He responds without apology. “I gathered a few pictures of you and gave them to a stylist Anton knows so she could get an idea of what to buy.”
“You mean that Anton fucked?” I joke.
“More than likely. But that's beside the point. She got a pretty good idea of what your style was and then I asked Liz your sizes saying it was for your birthday.”
“You were going to buy me lingerie for my birthday?” I give him a dubious look.
“No, the stylist was able to figure it out.” He states without a hint of deceit.
“Hmm, if you say so. Either way, thank you. Everything looks great.” I say as my eyes trek down to his chest and abs all on their own violation. Everything looks really great.
He nods in acknowledgement and crosses his arms, his biceps to bulging. “What else?”
“Hmm?” I snap my eyes up to his face to find him smirking again.
“What other questions do you have?” He chuckles, the cocky fucker.
“Oh, I don’t remember, I'm sure it'll come to me though. You made breakfast?” I ask as I walk over to the stove. I concentrate hard on not accidentally bumping into him, seeing as he makes no move to give me any room.