Sebring

by Kristen Ashley

  Perhaps it wasn’t karma kicking him in the ass for being a twat while he was growing up and staying that way well into his twenties.

  Maybe he got off on the pain.

  He put Bernadette out of his head and was about to make a call when she showed at his door again ten minutes later.

  “Goin’ out to get coffee, want one?” she asked.

  “Got a meet with Hawk in half an hour, I’ll be gone before you get back, so no,” he answered.

  “Feel like springin’ for coffee for me and all the boys?” she pushed. “It’ll be a write off. Not to mention team building.”

  He sighed and did what he did a lot with Bernadette because apparently he did get off on the pain.

  “Hit petty cash.”

  “Gotcha,” she muttered, grinning and swinging back out only to twirl around in the hall and catch his gaze again. “Oh, yeah, and that Ralphie guy said the painting is from some woman named Olivia Shade.”

  Nick went still.

  Bernie kept talking.

  “So, totally a sales call. You don’t know any Olivia Shade.”

  “What was the gallery again?” he asked, his voice so low it seemed it made no noise.

  Apparently, it didn’t.

  “Come again?” she asked.

  “The gallery,” he bit out. “What’s the name?”

  Her head twitched. “Do you know an Olivia Shade?”

  Nick leveled his eyes on her.

  “No,” he stated firmly, her eyes flared and he knew she took his meaning which finally reminded him of why he’d hired her. “Now tell me the name of the fucking gallery.”

  “It’s called Art,” Bernadette answered. “That one downtown. Close to Larimer Square.”

  “Thanks,” he replied, turning to his laptop.

  She disappeared from the door.

  Nick found Art’s website and the number. He called it.

  “Art, Ralphie speaking,” a man answered.

  “Ralphie…” Fuck…was an adult male seriously allowing himself to be called that name? “This is Nick Sebring. My assistant—”

  “Well thank goodness, Mr. Sebring,” Ralphie interrupted. “I’m so glad you called. You must have this piece. It’s fabulous and dying for a new home. Ms. Shade seemed rather taken with it for you. Though, it’s large and part of our service includes delivery and installation. So I’ve got my calendar open right here and if we can—”

  “Tonight, five thirty,” Nick declared.

  “Oh…well, let me see. I can—”

  “Tonight,” Nick said. “Five thirty.”

  There was a brief pause before, “Of course, Mr. Sebring. Tonight. Five thirty.”

  “Right, do you need my address?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  Nick gave it to him. Then Nick exchanged only the briefest of pleasantries before he hung up on him.

  After that, he ignored the tight in his chest and went to his meeting.

  * * * * *

  5:57 – That Evening

  “I see Ms. Shade has an eye,” Ralphie stated.

  Ralphie was a good-looking but definitely gay guy who was standing beside Nick, studying the large painting that had been installed over his chest between the two arches.

  Yes, she had an eye.

  Jesus.

  The princess could pick paintings.

  “Oh!” Ralphie cried then reached inside the jacket of the expensive suit he wore. “She left this for us to give to you,” he stated, pulling out an envelope and offering it to Nick. “There you go. Now, if you’re happy with it, we’ll leave you to your evening. But if you need anything, an adjustment or you simply want us to hang it elsewhere, don’t hesitate to call. However, just saying, that painting was made to hang right there. But if you want it elsewhere, we live to serve.”

  “It’s good. Thanks,” Nick muttered, taking the envelope at the same time reaching to get his wallet to tip.

  Ralphie was engaged in gesturing that they could leave to the two men he brought with him who did the carrying and installation while Ralphie ordered them around. But when he turned his attention back to Nick, he shook his head, and to make his point absolutely clear, he lifted both hands and wagged them side to side as well.

  “We don’t accept gratuities. But the thought is appreciated.”

  No gratuity.

  These days with tip jars out at gas stations where the attendant didn’t move from behind the cash register, this was a surprise. But a good one.

  He made a mental note of that on the very off chance he needed more art.

  Nick nodded and walked him to the door.

  The man barely cleared it before he rolled it shut and bolted it.

  He then looked down to the envelope.

  Nick Sebring, was written on the front.

  She had slanted, flowing, unusual, almost artistic handwriting.

  He turned his eyes to the painting.

  It was enormous, filling the space.

  It was also amazing. The canvas painted entirely in a deep blue hue that reminded him of the ocean, this only interrupted close to the bottom with a series of sweeping, undulating lines in peaches and reds with some browns and blacks.

  They looked like lines and Nick could imagine many missed it.

  But he saw it immediately.

  With some of the curves, swells and circles, definitely the coloring, the lines were an abstract of a man and woman fucking.

  And an unusual choice for Olivia, the woman was on her back.

  He wanted to smile at that.

  He didn’t smile.

  He looked to the envelope, tore it open and pulled out a card in thick, creamy stock, the front embossed in a traditional monogram of OSA.

  He briefly thought about the fact that, with his research, he knew Olivia’s middle name was Amalie. And seeing that monogram, he thought her name was the most beautiful name he ever knew.

  Then he opened the note and read,

  Nick –

  With your words the last time we were together, you gave me what you needed to give me.

  With this painting, I’m returning the same thing.

  It’s a poor demonstration of what it needs to say, but at least it’s something.

  I hope one day you find the woman you couldn’t build in a dream. You deserve that.

  But I want to thank you for what you gave to me. Including being the one who had the strength to stop what could amount to nothing.

  Though, I will admit, when we were together it didn’t feel even a little like nothing.

  When you find her, make sure she makes you happy. If she’s not beyond a dream, find the one who is. Don’t settle for anything less. If you did, the last hope I have in this world would be dashed, proving my pessimism for eternity.

  Be well, Nick. And be happy.

  Yours,

  – Livvie

  She had never, not once, called him Nick.

  He had never, not once, called her Livvie.

  But he had been her Nick.

  And he had not made it safe for her to give him Livvie.

  He stared at the note, reading it again.

  And then again.

  Including being the one who had the strength to stop what could amount to nothing.

  Saliva filled his mouth.

  Though, I will admit, when we were together it didn’t feel even a little like nothing.

  He looked to the painting.

  The last hope I have in this world would be dashed…

  He pulled out his phone. He did it not thinking.

  He kept not thinking when he pulled her name up on his texts.

  He used his thumb to type out the words.

  He hit send.

  He ignored the return texts she sent.

  Instead, he set about waiting.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Reduced to That

  Olivia

  I was nearly frantic, but definitely panicked as I drove to Nick’s.


  So much so, I almost forgot to take the tracking device off my car before I set out.

  I remembered. And I looked to see if anyone was watching.

  Only then did I take off.

  But I did it fast.

  His text scared me.

  Come over. Now.

  He’d never been demanding. Not like that. Not in a text. Not even over the phone. In fact, although he could be somewhat bossy, he was normally laidback, and except for the argument we’d had at the club, he was always in a good mood.

  Come over. Now. did not say good mood.

  It was also not somewhat bossy.

  It was imperative and demanding.

  Especially when we hadn’t had any contact in weeks.

  My return texts of Are you okay? and Sebring, answer me received no response.

  So I took off to do as he said.

  Worried.

  He had a brother. His brother had a family. Nick also had employees.

  Other than that, he’d asked me if I had anyone but I’d never asked him. And our relationship was such he didn’t share about all his friends, buddies he might meet for a beer, high school sweethearts he still kept in touch with.

  He might not have anyone either.

  In fact, in our world, there were very few anyones you could truly trust.

  And he might need someone.

  Especially if he needed someone because something had happened to his brother or his brother’s family.

  Knight Sebring kept himself and his business to himself.

  That didn’t mean there wasn’t danger to his business. If anyone hurt any of the girls he provided protection for, it was known his retribution was swift and brutal.

  That might mean enemies.

  But it could just be life. A car accident. An illness.

  Anything.

  Life happened all the time and my experience was most of what happened during the living of it sucked.

  So yes, I was worried. I hadn’t heard anything but that wasn’t unusual. Even back in the day when I was directly involved in the life, with my position in it, news reached me slowly. Now, it might not reach me at all.

  God, what if someone went after Knight’s Anya?

  Or one of their daughters?

  This was a terror of mine. It made no sense. After what had happened with Tommy, I decided never to have children.

  But sometimes I woke up at night in a cold sweat, having dreamed some enemy of my father or Georgia had decided they should pay through my babies.

  Or that I’d done something and my father or Georgia used my babies to pay.

  No, I never intended to have any children.

  I was also worried because Nick’s text could be construed not as upset, but as anger.

  I’d bought him that painting. It had been days ago now and I’d heard nothing.

  But maybe he didn’t like it.

  That said, he had a right to refuse it and I’d told the handsome Ralphie who worked at the gallery to be certain Nick knew he had that right. So it wasn’t like I was forcing it on him.

  But maybe he didn’t want memories of me. Maybe when he found the girl he couldn’t build in a dream, he didn’t want to look at a five thousand dollar painting and remember me. Maybe he thought I was being clingy by giving it to him after he’d ended things so definitively, even if my note didn’t say clingy.

  However, none of that prompted an angry Come over. Now. just so he could share that with me. He could simply tell Ralphie he didn’t want it and continue to ignore me.

  So no.

  I didn’t think that was it.

  I just hoped whatever it was—Knight, Anya, one of Nick’s nieces—that it would be okay.

  And I tried not to think about how much it meant that if it was Knight, Anya, anything, he had called on me.

  By the time I swung in the spot beside Nick’s Jag, I was so frantic, it didn’t register I was back at his place. A place I never thought I’d be again. But even so, it was a place I thought of daily, even hourly, wishing I’d have the chance to go back, just once more, but better, whenever the spirit moved me because in the perfect world of daydreams, it, like Nick, belonged to me.

  No, I didn’t think of that.

  I just quickly got out of my car, closed the door and felt my heart slam in my chest when I looked up to Nick’s unit and saw his door already rolling open.

  He always knew when I arrived, probably heard my car, but he never opened his door before I hit the stairs.

  This made me do that: hit the stairs and fast, running as best I could in skirt and heels.

  Nick met me halfway up.

  And the pain in his face sent a slice of terror through my heart.

  “Nick,” I whispered, stopping on the step beside him, lifting my hand to rest it on his chest, my eyes glued to his. “Oh God, sweetheart. What’s happened?”

  For some reason as I spoke, I watched the pain score deeper.

  But he didn’t answer. He tore my hand from his chest, his fingers closing around mine so hard they hurt. He then dragged me up the steps so fast, I tripped and almost fell.

  He didn’t seem to notice. He just kept dragging me until he’d pulled me into his unit. He stopped abruptly to slide the door closed.

  The jerk his sudden stop sent through my arm made me fall into him, but I didn’t care.

  I was all about Nick.

  When he bolted the door and turned to me, I yanked my hand from his, lifted both to his chest and leaned in. So intent on him, I didn’t notice him walking forward, hands to my hips, shuffling me back.

  I just begged, “Talk to me.”

  He didn’t talk to me.

  He stared down at me, the blue of his eyes openly turbulent, the frank honesty of emotion something he’d never given me.

  Which meant it had to be bad.

  “God, honey. What’s happened?” I whispered.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Is it Knight?” I asked cautiously.

  Vaguely, I noted him stopping us so we were just standing there, touching but unmoving.

  “Anya?” I pressed carefully.

  “You don’t intend to do it,” he stated.

  I stared at him, confused.

  “Sorry?” I asked.

  His fingers dug into my hips and he declared, “You want me to be happy.”

  I felt my head twitch, now more confused.

  “I…I don’t get it.” I shook my head. “I mean, yes. Of course. I want you to be happy. Though, I don’t get—”

  “But you don’t intend to do it,” he repeated.

  At what I thought he was saying, my heart twisted and I had to curl my fingers into his shirt at his chest to help support me.

  “Sorry?” I breathed.

  “You don’t intend to do it.”

  I let him go in order to shift away.

  Nick’s fingers went from my hips and his arms rounded me.

  Tight.

  Slamming me into his body.

  “Sebring—”

  He bent his face close to mine and barked, “Nick,” so fiercely I winced.

  I tensed as I asked, “What’s happening?”

  “Got your painting, Olivia. Got your note,” he explained but it didn’t explain anything. “You want me to be happy. But you don’t intend to do it.”

  I didn’t intend to do it.

  He was right; I didn’t intend to do it.

  What he would never know was that I’d die and kill to have the privilege of making him happy.

  It just wasn’t an ability life afforded me.

  “We both know I can’t be that for you,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah,” he bit out like he had to expel the word because it tasted beyond foul. “What you know that I don’t is that you can’t be that for anybody.”

  I went completely still.

  “Can you?” he clipped but didn’t wait for my answer. “You can’t be that for anybody.”

  “Sebring—”


  His arms gave me a squeeze. “Nick.”

  I shook my head. “Why are we—?”

  “Good question, Olivia. Why? Why can’t you be that for anybody? Why can’t you be happy?”

  We hadn’t been together for weeks.

  How had he figured so much of this out?

  I cautiously tried to pull away.

  His arms got tight and this time they didn’t loosen.

  I stopped trying to pull away.

  “We’re rewinding,” he decreed. “I know why you can’t be that for me. I know why I can’t share why you can’t be that for me. What I wanna know is why you think you can’t be that for me.”

  “You can’t share and I get that. You have to get why I can’t share.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You have to.”

  He bent close to me. “Your father is a piece of shit. Planet’d be better if he was obliterated from it. Not sure about your sister, but thinkin’ she’s much the same. Know you got soldiers who deserve a bed in the dirt.”

  At his words, I wrenched in his arms but he held fast.

  I again went still and kept my hands between us to give as much distance as he would afford me.

  “That’s part of why I can’t have you. But you’re not about that. You’re not them. You haven’t shared that with me. I still know it down to my balls. You know it too ’cause you live it. So why won’t you let yourself have me?” he asked.

  You’re not them.

  Yes, he’d figured me out.

  “Sebring—”

  He lost it.

  “Nick!” he thundered, giving me an abrupt, rough shake.

  “Nick,” I whispered, pressing my hands into his chest, not to get away but in a gesture I hoped was soothing.

  He stilled and the tumult of his eyes calmed.

  God, just that, his name and a simple touch from me and he calmed.

  Was he that attuned to me?

  “Who burned you?” he whispered back.

  Oh no.

  I closed my eyes.

  “Livvie.”

  My throat clogged.

  No one called me Livvie.

  No one.

  Livvie didn’t exist.

  Not for anyone.

  But me.

  “Baby, who burned you?” Nick pushed gently.

  I opened my eyes.