Triple Major

by Lana Hartley

  I take a deep breath, searching through the cabinets to try and find other accessories.

  For a bachelor, Nate has a surprising selection of bubble bath and essential oils. Then I remember I’m probably not the first woman to ever draw a bath in this penthouse.

  The image of another woman in my place stirs a feeling of hurt in my chest, and for a moment, it occurs to me that Nate might not even be single.

  But then, I remember that steady relationships are not common in Nate’s line of work.

  And he wouldn’t have said I was his everything if he didn’t fully mean it.

  That much hasn’t changed. Nate is true to his word, and I can rely on him for that.

  At least I hope I can.

  He said he’d find a way to keep me safe, and I do believe him. But keeping me safe doesn’t mean keeping me prisoner—he’s not a beast, and I don’t need to be locked up in the penthouse as his princess.

  We’ve travelled to the other side of the country to escape. How much farther are we going to have to go before I can be free? What else is it going to take?

  When the bath is full, I shrug out of the robe and drop it to the floor. My lingerie and chemise fall to the ground beside it, a puddle of black satin and lace at my feet.

  Naked, I walk over to the tub, dipping a toe into the bubbles to test the water.

  When we first came here, Nate said he had cameras everywhere. I wonder if he meant in here, too. The idea of him watching me as a I sink into the tub, bubbles and bath oils clinging to my skin, stirs butterflies in my stomach.

  If Nate was going to watch me in the bath, I’d much rather he did it from the other side of he tub.

  I picture him in the bath opposite me, our legs entwined as the bubbles climb up his body. I imagine the way his chest would look as the bubbles slowly began to pop, fizzling away until he was fully exposed to me.

  My imagination drops lower, from his chest to his abdomen—the way his ab muscles tense and flex as he leans in to pull me closer to him. My mind’s eye drifts even further down, to the ‘V’ of his hips and—

  A noise from beyond the bathroom jolts me from my fantasy. I don’t know what it is. It sounds like a door slamming, but it’s enough to draw me back to reality. I try to shut my eyes to return to that happy place, but it’s gone.

  For now.

  Maybe one day I’ll get to experience the fantasy in person.

  I lay my head back and look up at the ceiling, staring at my reflection in the immaculate tiling. I feel like a bird in a cage, distracting itself by staring in the mirror so that it doesn’t feel alone.

  Nate is my distant owner who cares for me, but his company isn’t always be enough.

  And we both know that what I really need is to stretch my wings and be free.

  I need to try harder in convincing Nate.

  Escape attempts aren’t doing the trick, and I don’t think that my constant anger at him is helping my case. He needs to think that it’s his own idea—or that if I do leave, there’s a chance I’ll come back to him regardless.

  I would come back to him.

  I’ve only just gotten my Nate back, I wouldn’t want to lose him again.

  But I don’t want to have him at the cost of everyone else in my life. I can’t exchange my friends and family for my first love. It wouldn’t be fair.

  My heart aches for my mom, and I wonder what she’s thinking about…if anyone else in my family has come to comfort her in my absence. Is she even looking for me?

  Does Nate remember my mom? Can he remember her kind smile? Her warmth? Is he thinking about how much this must be hurting her, too? Does he feel guilty about what he’s done to her, how he’s torn her family apart—possibly forever?

  If Nate won’t let me go for my own selfish reasons, then maybe I can convince him to let me go back and at least be with my mom. To comfort her, to let her know that she still has me, at least.

  I’ll ask him at dinner. When we’re alone and Nate can be himself, he won’t say no to me.

  I’ll talk to the Nathan I remember—not Nate, the mafia boss and hard-ass—and then he’ll give me my freedom. He knows how much being trapped here hurts me, and he won’t be able to bear keeping me locked up indefinitely.

  I’ve been in the bath so long the water has begun to go cold. I turn the taps and fill up the tub once more.

  I want to look good for dinner tonight, I want Nate to see me looking my best. So far, he’s only seen me terrified, in a ruined gown and muddy shoes, and in the clothes he put me in.

  And naked. Briefly.

  I wouldn’t mind him seeing me naked again.

  Maybe even later tonight.

  It’s even more of a reason that I want to look nice. I want to feel good. I scrub away the jet lag with a body wash and sugar scrub that smells like vanilla, until my skin tingles and I feel radiant.

  I emerge from the bathroom in a haze of steam and candle smoke.

  What to wear?

  I drop the towel to the floor and wander towards the closet. No doubt Nate’s given me something appropriate to wear.

  Then I spot it.

  Strapless and floor length, but with a tulle train, a black evening gown hangs innocently in the closet. I take it immediately, holding the fabric up to my skin and relishing the softness.

  It’s Gucci.

  Nate

  Standing at the railing on my terrace, I look at my watch—again.

  Patience has never been my strong suit, especially not when it comes to Sienna.

  The chef is busily working in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. He’s setting up the spread on the dining room table: Kobe beef, Fourchu lobster, and Bluepoint oysters—at my request.

  Only the finest.

  In the center of the table sits a twenty-year bottle of Screaming Eagle cabernet sauvignon. It’s been sitting in my wine rack for quite some time, waiting for the perfect occasion.

  That time’s finally arrived.

  It’s a perfect complement to our reunion—and of course, the meal awaiting.

  When I’ve finally had enough waiting, I hear the clicking of her heels on the wooden floors behind me. Turning around, I stop in my tracks.

  She’s literally taken my breath away.

  My eyes wash over her, taking in the full view from head to toe.

  The Gucci dress she’s chosen hugs every fucking curve on her body, from her chest to her hips. Her perky tits peek out of the top of the strapless number, and the slits give me glimpses of her lean gams as she enters the room, walking confidently toward me.

  Her long white-blonde hair is braided down her back, giving her that sophisticated look that many women try to pull off but fail. But not her.

  She’s the picture of utter fucking perfection.

  I’m so overcome with desire that my twelve-inch cock is straining against the front of my pants. I want nothing more than to release it, to wipe the meal off the table and dine on her instead. I want to splay her hair across the table like an elegant fan and see her writhing beneath me as I drive her to ecstasy over and over.

  I want to make her mine, make her realize there’s nobody in this world for her, but me.

  Somehow, I keep my wits about me.

  If this goes on any longer, I’ll have a serious case of blue balls, too.

  “It’s about time…I was just about go get you.”

  I open the bottle of wine with ease, pouring us each a glass.

  I hand her one and lead her out to the terrace, placing my hand on the small of her back.

  “To old friends,” I lift my glass before swirling the crimson liquid around.

  She takes a sip, and then licks her lips.

  What fucking torture.

  “Good wine,” she smiles. Like me, she’s used to the finer things in life.

  I’ll always give them to her, too. Clothes, jewelry, food—whatever my lady wants, she fucking gets. I’m in a position to do that now, even if it took years of b
eing a lackey and getting my hands dirty.

  All that comes to an end now, though.

  “It is. It’s a good vintage. Been saving it for a special occasion.”

  “And this qualifies?”

  “You’re standing here right in front of me looking like a fucking goddess. Yes, I’d say that qualifies,” I smirk.

  I turn to look out over the terrace, admiring the sunset among the skyscrapers.

  New York is a busy city, but the view from my penthouse paints an entirely different picture. It puts me on top of the world.

  I certainly feel like that now. Sienna’s back by my side, after so many years apart.

  “It’s been a while,” her voice is barely above a whisper. “I can hardly believe it.”

  “Well, believe it. We’re here, together. I always knew I’d come back to you—it was just a matter of time.”

  “I never forgot you either, you know,” she sips at her wine. “You were always there in the back of my mind.”

  “Yeah…” I let my voice trail off.

  My memories of her are nothing but fond ones. We were always close; partners in crime, you could say. Causing a ruckus was our thing, and making her laugh was my greatest pastime.

  We may have come from different classes, but that never stopped her from becoming friends with me.

  “This is a beautiful view,” she nods to the skyline, resting her arms on the railing. “You’ve come pretty far, huh?”

  “Something like that,” I look over at her, unable to take my eyes off her cleavage which is now on full fucking display.

  I don’t really want to talk about how I’ve made it, what I’ve had to do to earn this penthouse, my mansion, and everything else.

  She doesn’t need to know the extent of what I’ve done.

  Hell, she already thinks of me as a kidnapper and murderer.

  The sad fucking thing is she’s not wrong.

  We stand there for a few minutes, simply enjoying the breeze and wine.

  “So what exactly are we on the run from?”

  I suck in a deep breath.

  I knew the question was coming, but it still momentarily catches me off guard.

  “Edison Shaw. He’s the one that masterminded this whole plan, including kidnapping you and murdering your father.”

  No use in sugarcoating it.

  “And who is he?”

  “Simply put? My boss. Not someone you want to fuck with.”

  “And you did?”

  “Yeah, by taking you. I was supposed to deliver you to him as part of the overall plan,” I take the last sip, draining my wine glass. “You can see how well that went.”

  A sardonic grin crosses my face.

  “Well, thank you for saving me from him…but I really do need to get back home. I need to see my mom.”

  “That’s not happening,” my voice is resolute as I turn to look at her.

  She doesn’t thoroughly understand the danger, I know that.

  “Why not?” I can see the challenge in her eyes.

  “Because it’s simply not possible.”

  “My mom is all alone, Nate.”

  “I know… I know,” I lean back against the railing, facing her.

  I sympathize with her, I really do. I’m not about to explain myself though.

  She just needs to accept my words as absolute, so I brook no room for argument.

  “You said you were a good guy, Nate…” her voice trails off.

  Her cerulean blue eyes are searching mine.

  She’s not going to like what I’m about to say.

  But I have to say it.

  “You’re mistaken. I’m not good…I’m not anything. I’m sorry, Sienna, but you can never leave.”

  The tears immediately well up in her eyes. It hurts me to hurt her, but this is reality.

  And the reality is I have to keep her with me at all times in order to keep her safe.

  Edison won’t give two fucks about killing her if he gets his hands on her.

  I can’t let that happen—so she stays.

  She chokes back a sob, and with tears streaming down her face, she runs out of the room.

  All I can to do is watch.

  I glance at the dining room table where the food sits, untouched.

  Fuck.

  Sienna

  Fucking Nate.

  I’m reeling with anger, and hurt, and fear.

  He can’t keep me here forever, right?

  I’m suddenly feeling very claustrophobic and in over my head. I had underestimated him, I think.

  A part of me hates to believe that Nate is this hardened criminal, callous and unloving.

  But he is.

  He doesn’t care about me, or my feelings at all.

  All he wants is money, or fame, or whatever he’s after in keeping me here.

  The guy’s probably happy about the fact that he was the one to kidnap Sienna Rose, heiress and daughter to one of the most famous senators in the country.

  Daddy.

  My heart wrenches and aches to think of him.

  My Daddy.

  The man I’d loved most in my life, my safe harbor, my everything is gone all because of stupid fucking Nate.

  How could he?

  Fresh tears fill my eyes.

  Will I ever escape these pools of grief that threaten to weigh me down forever?

  I wipe the tears away. They won’t help. They’ll always come, always fall, when I think of what I’ve lost.

  The room feels tight and small.

  I’m confined in the airless space, and I simply must get out.

  The doors of the terrace are slightly ajar, so I fling them open and go outside. The wind whips through my hair, and it’s utterly silent and peaceful up here.

  There’s no sound.

  Even the traffic below can’t penetrate this stillness I’ve found at the top of the skyscraper. It’s a fortress, yes, and the only way out is down. But I would never do that.

  Even in these dire circumstances, I would never kill myself.

  There’s always a way out. Things always get better. Right?

  I hold onto the balcony wall and dare myself to look down. The view is dizzyingly beautiful.

  For a second, I’m free.

  No one can touch me up here.

  The wind and the cold air bring me back to life.

  I take a deep breath and go back in.

  I’ve got this.

  There has to be a way out, sometime, somewhere. I just have to be on the lookout for it.

  I walk into my darkening room as the sun fades over the horizon.

  Stepping out of my black dress, I think of the waste of an evening.

  The terrace doors stay open, providing some much needed air.

  I walk around the room naked and think of him...

  Nate.

  How did he turn into this illicit human being? Where is the Nate I once knew, the boy who was my friend?

  He’s dead.

  And in his place is this new being, this guy who sets my heart on fire even though I try to deny it.

  I shut my eyes, and he’s there.

  I distract myself, but he remains.

  I’m afraid of what this could mean.

  And so, I attempt to shove all thoughts of him to the side.

  A black, silky robe has been provided for me, and I slip into it.

  If Nate has my best interest at heart, then why can’t he just let me go? He’s keeping me here for his own selfish reasons, and I only wish I knew what they were.

  Thinking about my mother and all the grief she must be feeling from losing my dad and losing me brings fresh tears to my eyes.

  Will I ever stop crying?

  He hasn’t even let me call her.

  He’s a fucking monster.

  And yet, even as I tell myself what a bad man he is, there’s this flicker of hope in my heart that the old Nate will shine through.

  As much as I want to hate him, there’s a rush of
hot energy coursing between us. And that energy scares me more than anything.

  I feel deep things for Nate, and it confuses me. I mean, he was my first crush.

  And now, he’s my captor.

  I shut my eyes—and the minute I do, his handsome, chiseled face flashes across my mind.

  Something tells me I may never escape him, not physically nor emotionally ever again.

  He has this hold on me. And it’s something I just can’t explain.

  I don’t know if I should trust it. I definitely don’t know if I can trust him.

  I circle the room again, looking for any kind of weapon or way to get out of here.

  Of course there’s none.

  Nate is well versed in the ways of criminality. He wouldn’t leave me with something sharp if his life depended on it.

  I curl up on my bed and let the tears flow easily. There’s no use in trying to stop them. I imagine I’ll be sad forever.

  The torrent of emotion that overcomes me is enough to wear me out. I fall asleep.

  I dream of better days, days when my dad was around.

  I dream of being back home in LA, safe and happy.

  And then I wake into the hazy darkness, and I’m reminded of my cold, hard reality.

  I rub my eyes and look around.

  It’s been a few hours, at least.

  Dragging myself out of bed, I feel sharp pangs of hunger. Maybe there’s a way I could quickly grab something without Nate noticing.

  I go to the mirror, tousle my hair, and see that there’s nothing to do about my puffy, tear-stained eyes.

  I’m quiet as a mouse as I walk to the door and I peek around the edge.

  No Nate. Maybe he’s sleeping?

  Does Nate ever sleep?

  At least he’s out of sight as I tiptoe down the broad hallway, lit by sconces.

  It’s only now that I realize how fucking beautiful and over-the-top this penthouse is.

  Huge, modern chandeliers adorn the ceiling. Expensive art line the walls. Oversized sunken leather couches provide seating.

  It’s all dark, greys and blacks, browns and whites.

  The place is gorgeous, but I’m no stranger to luxury. And none of it matters now. I’d rather be penniless and have my father back than to suffer this way.

  The kitchen is pristine, beautiful. There’s an island that seems to stretch on forever.