Decadent Desire

by Zuri Day

  “Wow, this car is something!”

  “You like it?”

  “Not for me, but it fits you perfectly.”

  “I can see you behind the wheel.”

  “I barely even know how to drive, so that wouldn’t be a good look.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I’ve got my license but not a car. You don’t really need one in New York.”

  “I think not having a car would drive me crazy.”

  They reached one of the main thoroughfares of Paradise Cove, the one that ran north to south through the city.

  “This tour is going to take all of ten minutes, so don’t blink.”

  “I’ve been here before.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yep.”

  “How long have you and Julian dated?”

  “Almost six years, off and on.”

  “That’s a long time, Nicki. Do you think you two will get married?”

  “I don’t know. He asked me once, but...”

  “You turned him down?” Disbelief took Quinn’s voice up a notch.

  “I know. Sometimes I can’t believe it, either.” Nicki sighed. “I love Julian. He’s a really good guy. But he’s California, and I’m New York. I can’t see myself living here, and I know this is where he wants to be.”

  “I said the same thing. Was only supposed to be here six months. But now? I love it. When I want a dose of the big city, I go to one. But I like coming back to the relative peace of a small town. Even more, I love being married to Ike. No city in the world can compare to having a Drake man love you.”

  “You’re probably right. But after turning him down the first time, I doubt that he’ll ask again.”

  They reached the town square.

  “Ooh. What’s that?”

  “On the corner? That’s London’s store. Hang on.” Quinn whipped around, barely slowing down. The car fishtailed, but she broke right hard and pulled into one of several empty parking spaces available on the quiet morning.

  Nicki slowly released the death grip her fingers had on the dash. “I just saw my life pass in front of me.”

  “That scare you? Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Maybe, but while I’m riding can we practice safety first so that my ankle remains the only thing broken?”

  Quinn laughed. “Sure, come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You don’t want to go inside?”

  “Since getting here nearly cost me my life, I guess I could. Is this London as in—”

  “Yes, that London. Oh, wait. Your foot. I forgot just that quickly. We can go another day.”

  “I’m hoping the specialist will tell me that my PC days are numbered. Let’s go in. I won’t be able to walk around much. But I’d like to see her shop.”

  “You can sit and I’ll bring over stuff that I think you’ll like.”

  “Okay.”

  A chime sounded as Quinn opened the door. Inside, the color of the walls grabbed Nicki’s attention right away. She would have thought textured black wallpaper too dark for a retail establishment. But a white ceiling and bright lights everywhere gave the expansive room a runway vibe. Uniquely designed separates in bold prints, like the ones in the display that had caught Nicki’s eye, adorned the walls and clothes racks. Mirrors abounded. Music with an alternative sound was a nice yet unobtrusive companion to one’s shopping experience. Despite her plan to sit and be pampered, Nicki was drawn to minimally filled racks of clothing that were just her style. Of the garments she’d seen so far, she wanted them all.

  A pretty young woman came from behind the retro counter made of stainless steel. The door chimed again. Two more women entered. One honed in on her target and made a beeline for Nicki.

  “It is you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nicki Long?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly, cautiously.

  “I told my friend it was you! What happened to your foot? Is that why you’re here and not on Broadway?”

  It was the very thing Nicki knew she wouldn’t like about small towns—everyone trying to be in her business.

  “Just a sprain.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. So you’ll be back in the show soon.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “My mom and I are trying to get tickets. We’re thinking about going over the Thanksgiving holiday. Hey, is it possible for me to get a picture with you?”

  “Sure.”

  The woman waved over her friend, who took the phone and snapped the picture.

  “Thank you!”

  “You’re welcome. What’s your name?”

  “Ashley,” Quinn interrupted. “The local gossip trying to break news like that celebrity news show, XYZ. Writes a blog gossiping about everything she thinks she knows. You’re guaranteed to be on it tomorrow.” Quinn’s eyes shifted to Ashley. “Right?”

  “You got it! Just ask Ashley!” She turned to Nicki. “That’s my blog, Ask Ashley.” Then to Quinn. “I take exception to your description of my popular blog. Gossip implies that what I write isn’t true.”

  “Most of it isn’t.”

  “Clearly a matter of opinion.” Ashley’s smile at Nicki was genuine. “It was really great to meet you.” And to Quinn, “Always a pleasure. Bye, ladies. Come on, Nat. Let’s go.”

  Quinn watched her go, shaking her head. “She’s so fake.”

  “Wouldn’t know it to look at her. She seemed nice to me.”

  “Bright smile. Dark heart.”

  “Wow, what’d she do to you?”

  “Not to me. To Niko. Ask Julian about it. I don’t want her messiness to junk up our day.”

  Chapter 7

  Julian pulled into his driveway and parked the car. Kept it out of the garage in case Nicki wanted to go out to dinner. He walked up the town house steps, pulling out his phone to check the text message that had just come in.

  Who’s Ashley?

  He read it and frowned, called out to Nicki as he came in the door.

  “Nicki! Babe?”

  “Up here.”

  He walked upstairs. Nicki sat against the headboard, checking her phone. “Ashley who?” was his greeting as he walked over to the bed, kissed her forehead and sat down.

  “The one Quinn doesn’t like.”

  “Ah. That Ashley. So you did get out.”

  “Yes, Quinn came by. Took me around town, driving like a maniac.”

  “That sounds like her.”

  “We went by London’s store. It’s nice.”

  “That’s where you ran into Ashley?”

  Nicki nodded. “She and another woman came in right after we did. Who is she?”

  “Somebody we grew up with—my older brothers, really. A lot of guys dated her. She had a crush on Niko that bordered on obsession.”

  “He dated her, too?”

  “They messed around. When he met Monique, things got a little crazy. Ashley tried to sabotage the situation. But everything worked out.”

  “She asked for a selfie. Quinn said I’d probably be on her blog. Have you read it?”

  “I checked out a couple things she wrote about—mostly fluff pieces. Gossip. She probably will write about you. A Broadway performer in our little hamlet—why wouldn’t she? But I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” He glanced at his phone, tapped the screen and shook his head. “It must be the day for silliness.”

  “Somebody sent you a nonsense text?”

  “When I let you go earlier, thinking my client had arrived? Wasn’t my client. It was an old classmate named Natalie Moore.”

  “Classmate or girlfriend?”

  “What
did I say?”

  “I heard what you said. I’m getting clarity on what you meant.”

  He reached for her hand, kissed it. “A classmate who I hadn’t seen for years, since I was fifteen, sixteen years old. Anyway, to find an assistant, I signed up with a local staffing agency. Turns out she owns it.”

  “Didn’t you hire an assistant?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why is she coming to your office?”

  “It’s a long story.” Julian removed his shoes, sat against the headboard beside her and told her about the earlier encounter.

  * * *

  Julian had just pulled up a patient’s file when his intercom buzzed. “Yes, Katie.”

  “Doctor, Natalie Moore is here to see you.”

  Natalie? What did she want? “Is my eleven o’clock here?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Okay. I’ll...” He looked up as his door opened. Natalie sauntered in on four-inch heels, balancing her petite frame like a pro on stilts. When they’d met for lunch, she’d worn a suit and her hair in a loose bun, and aside from a flirtation or two, their interaction had been totally professional. Today the thick mane of brunette curls cascaded over her shoulders and down her back.

  Julian’s calm belied his ire. “Natalie, what are you doing?”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t be long.”

  Hopefully as short as her skirt. If someone came to an interview in the tight mini she wore today it would be totally inappropriate, along with her behavior of entering his office without being invited and sitting down before being asked.

  “Had you waited, I would have asked Katie to schedule you an appointment, the same as others who need to speak with me.”

  “Oh, Julian, don’t be so formal. I heard you have a patient coming. Is it another one of my dad’s?”

  “Is that why you’re here?”

  “That’s part of it. Dad has lost several since you’ve opened your office. What are you doing, offering a grand opening sale? Or is it the disparaging comments you’ve made about doctors as drug pushers that have patients leaving him to darken your door?”

  “Natalie, my practice doesn’t concern you. Why are you so interested in it?”

  “Why are you evading my questions?”

  “I’m not doing this with you. Your father’s a grown man. If he has questions, he can ask them. As for the formalities of this office, they are there for a reason. We grew up together, but those interactions were a long time ago. We were children, and this is not school. If you need professional help in the future, make an appointment. Am I clear?”

  “No need to be rude, Julian.” Natalie rose from the chair and started for the door. “My dad has too much class to confront you, but let me be clear. People are watching. They see my dad’s clients coming to this building, some who have been with him for years. What you’re doing is unethical. And I’m going to find a way to expose it.”

  Julian stood. He’d had enough.

  “I’m leaving. But you’ve been warned.”

  * * *

  “Warned? What did she mean by that?”

  Julian realized sharing with Nicki what had happened earlier might not have been the best idea. Her fiery nature was one of the things he loved about her. That she didn’t sugarcoat or hide her feelings was a plus, too—most of the time. Might not be particularly advantageous while living in a small town. If Nicki met Natalie after what he’d just told her, it might not go so well.

  “I don’t know what she meant. But whatever it is means nothing to me.” He spoke lightheartedly, adding a smile to further convey his nonchalance. “Let’s talk about what’s really important. You, and how you’re feeling. Better, I’d imagine, since you went out.”

  “The ankle is still pretty painful, unless I’m taking the meds. Which I don’t like taking because they knock me out. That’s why your cabinets and pantry are still bare and dinner isn’t ready.”

  “You’d planned to do all of that today?”

  “It was a good plan in my head.”

  “What about now? Feel like going out to eat?”

  “Would you be all right having something delivered?”

  Julian ran his hand across her thigh, slid it between her legs and let it rest near her mound. “If I do, what’s in it for me?”

  “You mean...” Nicki’s eyelids dropped, her voice, too, becoming low and sexy. “Besides a sandwich?”

  Julian tried to hide it, but a smile escaped and grew as he chuckled. “It’s good to see you happy.”

  “I’m hopeful about my appointment with the specialist on Friday, and the chance that he’ll have good news. You can still take me, right?”

  “Of course. What if he agrees with your New York doctor and you have to be out for four to six weeks?”

  “Then I’ll probably get replaced, and that will not make me happy.” Nicki’s shoulders slumped.

  “Let’s hope for the best and see what happens.” Julian stole a quick kiss and slid off the bed. “What are you in the mood for? Italian, American, Mexican, Chinese?”

  “Whatever you’re having is fine with me.”

  “What I want most on the menu is you.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I’m going to take a shower. Order something for both of us.” He turned on the water and quickly undressed. Under the pulsating jets and the hot water, the knots in his neck and shoulders began to dissipate. She’d answered dismissively, but Julian knew his comment made her wet. Or at the very least caused a little squiggle. In the six off-and-on years of their relationship, he’d studied Nicki as diligently as he had his textbooks. How to please her. What made her smile. Being on stage, performing, was one of those things. If Friday’s prognosis knocked her out of the show, Julian didn’t have a cure to fix it. The situation with Natalie was another matter. He hoped today was the end of her bothersome antics and threats to his practice. Because this wasn’t school, and he wouldn’t be bullied. If she pushed, Natalie would see that Julian had grown into a man well able to take care of his woman, and himself.

  Chapter 8

  Friday morning, Nicki was nervous. She hadn’t slept well last night, and when Julian offered to leave early and have breakfast she declined. Her stomach was in knots. She couldn’t eat a thing. They headed to San Jose and the specialist who’d see Nicki, forty-five minutes away. On the drive, Julian tried to lift her spirits by reminding her of what was planned for after the appointment. The event for which London and Ace had been planning, New York Fashion Week, was in full swing. Later, she and Julian, along with most of the Drake family, were flying over to attend Ace’s show. London was walking the runway for her husband’s line. But even returning to the city she loved was filled with mixed emotions. How would it feel to be in New York if she’d been replaced in the show?

  They reached Dr. Allen’s office just before the 10:00 a.m. appointment. Nicki refused Julian’s offer to help her out of the car, as if maneuvering on her own would bring her one step closer to healing. She’d filled out the patient paperwork online, so once they were inside, the cheery receptionist quickly directed Nicki and Julian to the inner offices. A medical assistant took Nicki’s vitals and several digital photos of her ankle before escorting her into another room to take X-rays. Minutes later Nicki rejoined Julian back in the examination room. Not long after that, the doctor came in. He was younger than Nicki imagined he’d be, but his deep blue eyes were piercing and kind.

  “Good morning, Nicki, sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Dr. Allen.” He shook Julian’s hand as well. “I hear you’re a dancer.”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m really anxious to hear what you’ve got to say about the X-rays. I’m in a show right now—or I was until the accident—a show that has a good chance for a long run on Broadway. So I’m hoping you have good new
s.”

  “No news yet. Let’s take a look. If I can have you sit up there for me.” He motioned to the elevated hospital bed. “Here, let me help you.”

  Both he and Julian assisted Nicki to her feet. She took a couple hops over to the bed and perched on it. “Do I need to lie down?”

  “No, you’re fine. Let me get a look at that ankle.”

  Dr. Allen sat on a stool with wheels and rolled up to where he was eye level with Nicki’s extended leg. He placed one hand under her leg to support it and used the other to gingerly touch her ankle in various places. “It’s still quite swollen,” he observed. “Have you kept it elevated as much as possible?”

  “I don’t remember the other doctor telling me to elevate it. But I have spent a considerable amount of time in bed, so...”

  “That’s not the same. The foot needs to be elevated when sitting and also when lying down by using pillows to place it higher than your head. The deep bruising here—” he pointed to an area on the right side of her ankle “—and here—” his finger continued to midshin “—causes me the greatest concern. They allude to the possibility of damage beyond a major sprain.” He swiveled his chair around, reached for a remote and pressed a button. What looked like a simple whiteboard was actually a projector with the X-rays of Nicki’s foot and ankle now on display.

  Reaching into the pocket of his white jacket, he pulled out a pointer and rolled closer to the screen, identifying certain areas as he spoke. “To isolate the injuries and causes of pain, I checked both the medial and lateral ankle, the base of the fifth metatarsal, the Lisfranc region—that’s right here—and the medial, lateral and posterior tendons. I also checked the syndesmosis—that’s the area back here by the heel, for stability—and the fibula. There are signs of stress but no significant tearing. Which is good. The bruising on the side of your ankle that concerned me is due to an avulsion fracture, which means a small piece of bone has separated from the main mass of bone that is connected to this tendon.” He ran the pointer down a long, thick line within several others.