by Kacey Shea
I reach out, needing him to meet my gaze. “You don’t have to apologize.” My fingers skim over his hand.
“That’s my line.”
“What’s wrong?”
He holds his glass up and studies the contents. The amber liquid inside the beveled crystal tumbler sends diamonds of light across the shadows of his face. “Did you know I never graduated from college?”
“Okay . . .” I glance around his posh condo. Think about his luxury car, and how he seemingly knows half the celebrities in Los Angeles. Does he think I care about that? Maybe it matters in the circles he moves in. A soft chuckle leaves my lips. “I think you’re doing just fine.”
“I dropped out.”
I don’t follow, or understand why he feels the need to confess this. So instead of asking questions, I wait. The silence between us builds, the quiet as biting and hard to swallow as my drink.
“My parents split when I was in high school.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was for the best. My father wasn’t a good man. He never treated my mom well. Always talked down to her. Always negative.” He takes a gulp and dips his chin. Hair falls forward on his face, hiding his eyes from my view. “I don’t think they ever would have married if it weren’t for me. My mom was too good for him. The best kind of person there was in the world.” He laughs but there’s no humor in the sound. “But my father. Oh, my dear old dad—now he’s a piece of work. They split after my dad went to jail.”
Jude downs the contents of his glass, then fills it to the brim and gulps more down.
I don’t know what to say. Or how to make him feel better. His trust in sharing this with me feels important, monumental, and I give him what I have to offer. My presence. Understanding. Compassion.
“He scammed tons of people out of their retirement investments. His company was the reason families lost everything they’d spent their lives working for. He’s a shitbag of a human. Cut himself a deal to lessen his jail time by ratting out others involved in the scheme. Not because he felt personal responsibility or guilt. But because he wanted out in ten years.
“We lost everything. Went from never wanting to poverty in an instant. The community, friends who were like family my entire life, shunned us. My dad stole from them—his own neighbors and friends. Some people thought my mom was in on it, but she had no idea. People don’t care, though. Guilty by association. You find out real quick who your friends are when you have nothing.”
My heart aches for what he went through. I picture him as a young teen, and how devastating it must’ve been to experience such betrayal from the man who was meant to love and protect him.
“The prep school I attended let me stay on scholarship. I wanted to leave. Move to a new town and make a fresh start, but Mom wouldn’t hear it. She said we weren’t guilty. We had no reason to be ashamed or leave.”
“Oh, Jude.” I reach out to soothe him. I can’t help myself. My fingers run along his shoulder blades in what I hope is comfort. He stills, and for a second I wonder if he’ll push me away, but he doesn’t.
“I hated the loss of power most. I couldn’t do anything. I had nothing. No means. The charity was hard to accept, but it was about survival. My mom never made a big deal. She said a lesson in humility wasn’t the worst thing for me.” He swishes the liquid in his glass and clenches his jaw as if he’s in physical pain. He drinks again. Refills the cup. “She was right, of course. We lived off scholarships, food boxes, and the kindness of others for the first year until Mom was able to find solid work. But the pity was the worst. People who’d looked at me like I was a god, now treated me as if I was pathetic. A lost little puppy. I hated that my father did that to us. To me. I hated him. I still hate him.”
“Understandable. You were just a boy.”
“Grew up real quick. No other choice. I thought that was rock bottom. I had no clue.” He blows out a breath, and drops his chin, his shoulders hunching forward as his forearms brace against the counter’s ledge. When he lifts his gaze to mine there’s so much pain in his eyes, I have to bite back the urge to cry. Dread fills my stomach. “I worked hard. Got a scholarship to UCLA. My mom worked nights for the shift differential, but we spent every Sunday together. Went to the beach. Took the bus all over the city. Things were going good. Nothing to brag about, but we were making it on our own. My mom smiled again. We were a team, she and I.” He scrubs his hands over his face. His eyes cloud with unshed tears. He blinks. A few fall. He rubs his palms against his eyes, hiding them from me. “We didn’t have much money, but we were happy.”
Were. His past tense use of the word churns the foreboding curling in my gut. I brace myself, my shoulders sagging with the depth of his sadness. This story doesn’t have a happy ending.
“She got sick. And turns out happiness isn’t everything. Without money, there aren’t a lot of options. A month into my first semester, I had to drop out.”
I press my lips together so I won’t cry, but a few tears fall anyway.
“Lost my scholarship, but that didn’t bother me. I only wish we’d known sooner. She hadn’t been feeling well, but put off going to a doctor. She didn’t have time to get sick. That’s what she always said. Fuck, Rachel. It took her so quick.”
He tips back his drink, draining the contents in one swallow. His tears fall freely and without pretense. This time, he doesn’t try to hide them or wipe them away.
I pull him to me, and he lets me. This big, strong, self-assured man leans his face into my shoulder and sobs. Ugly, heartbreaking cries. His arms weave around my waist and hold on—as if I’m his life raft and he’s lost in an ocean of hurt. The pain threatens to rip me apart, but I stay strong. For him. Because he needs me. I might not have much, but after all this man has given me, I can be his rock. Hold him as he cries.
“Maybe I should thank my old man.” He sniffles and lifts his head. “If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. Wouldn’t have worked so hard to get where I am. I have made it my life’s mission to never lose that security that comes with money. My mom and I were happy. If he hadn’t been in jail, if he hadn’t lost everything, we would have had the money to get her the best doctors in the world. We could’ve had more time.”
“I’m sorry you lost so much. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” I caress my palm against his cheek, holding his gaze with mine. “I wish I could take that from you.”
“Those aren’t your sins to apologize for.”
“He showed up tonight?”
“Always on her birthday.”
Oh, Jude. That’s why he’s out of sorts. That’s why he’s hurting.
“I just want to be happy again. That’s why I work so hard. That’s why I’ve built all this.” He looks around his condo, but there’s a longing in his eyes.
“Are you?” The question flies from my lips without thinking.
“Huh?”
“Happy?”
He stares at me. His lips parted, breath shallow, and eyes burning with an emotion I can’t name. I wait him out. Wanting, needing his answer.
“This past week. With you.” He licks his lips, mashes them together and inhales slowly. “I think I could be.”
The energy between us charges. I hold my breath. My hand still on his shoulder. His arm still around my waist. Our gazes connect and I can’t look away.
In his eyes I find hurt. Fresh and raw. But also, I see hope. Possibility. A vulnerability that promises everything I’ve ever desired.
“Rachel.” His voice is a gravely whisper.
I lean closer. My gaze drops to his lips. I want to take away his pain. Fix this. Fix him. I want to kiss him.
“Shit.” Jude groans out the word. One second he’s upright, the next his head drops and his body shifts. He falls off the barstool, onto his knees. He blinks up at me, his eyes still bright from tears. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
Shit. My lust-filled thoughts evaporate and I spring into action.
<
br /> I help him to his feet, and together we stumble down the hall. I get him in the bathroom just in time, and stand watch as he upchucks the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Better that than anywhere else. Besides, I’ll sleep better tonight knowing he doesn’t have half a bottle of whisky sitting in his system. As it is, he’ll be nursing one hell of a hangover. Once he pukes, washes up, and brushes his teeth, I help him into his room to undress. More difficult a task, and way less sexual than I always imagined, what with him being seconds from passing out. We’re working on borrowed time, because once he’s down I don’t think I’ll be able to move him.
“I’m really happy you’re here.” His head lolls, fighting sleep. The fresh mint of his toothpaste hits me in the face and I help keep him upright.
“Me too.” I shuffle him backward until he’s sitting on the bed, then tug his pants from where they still gather at his ankles.
He flops back onto the mattress, and I pull up the sheet to cover his body. I smooth back the locks of his hair. With his eyes shut and breathing softly, he looks perfectly fine. Not as if his heart’s been shredded to pieces. “Rest.”
His eyes flutter open, and he reaches out to grab my wrist. “Don’t leave me. Please.” It’s the please that does me in. I fall for him completely with that request, my soul open and tumbling toward his in reckless abandon. I couldn’t stop it if I tried.
“I won’t,” I whisper, laying down next to him. Holding my breath until his eyelids drop and he gives in to sleep. I won’t leave him. Not tonight. Not until he wants me to leave. “I promise.”
35
Jude
My mouth tastes like cotton, and my head throbs as I crack open my eyes. They burn, ache, and the soft light in the room is too much. I shift under the covers, and freeze when my arm touches another body. Her hair covers most of her face and her body curls into the shape of an S as her shoulders lift, then fall with the rhythm of her breaths. Sweet. Good. Perfect. Everything I don’t deserve, but want anyway.
Memories of last night assault me. My dad showing up. Drinking in the kitchen. Rachel holding me as I bawl. Fuck, she must think I’m pathetic. Embarrassment creeps into my conscience. I can’t face her. Not when my eyes still burn from crying. My pulse races and my skin feels too tight for my body. My body caged in this condo. A restless energy thrums in my veins and I know from experience, if I don’t let it out, I’ll lash out. Slipping from the bed without waking her, I head to the guest room, change into my swimsuit and grab the keys to my jeep. My board and wet suit are inside, ready to go. A morning in the fresh air and water is just what I need to bring myself back to life.
Still hungover, the waves provide the brutal punishment I need. Sometimes, out here, I wonder if anyone would care or notice if they swallowed me whole. Sure, my clients appreciate what I can do for them, but would anyone even miss me if I were gone? Maybe Chance, Aubrey, Tony, Lonzo, and Eddie would be a little sad. Walter would be lost, at least until he won over the heart of a new owner.
I’ve always been okay with being detached enough for an easy exit, never letting anyone get too close. But now. Damn. Rachel makes me wish for more. An existence of belonging. Of loving and being loved. But after last night, I’m not sure Rachel is interested in that with me. How can I blame her? As much as I’ve worked to overcome it, my past is a part of who I am. I come with baggage, and I won’t fault her for not wanting to take that on.
For the rest of this weekend, I will let her set the pace. Give her the freedom to leave if she’s ready. Man, I hope she’ll stay. That she’ll still want to be friends. I value her presence in my life, and even if I’m relegated to an eternity of the friend zone, I’ll find a way to be content.
On my walk back to the truck, I down a breakfast burrito from the food stand and I’m a new man. Ready to tackle another day. To take over the world. Or, at the very least, meet Rachel’s gaze without shame for last night.
I’m riding the elevator back to my condo when my phone buzzes.
Reminder: In 1 hour Tour Club
Fuck. I forgot the appointment. It’s the last thing I want to do, but duty calls and I need it done. I’d planned on inviting Rachel to join me, but now . . . Fuck, I don’t know where I stand, but I might as well ask. I have nothing to lose, and she already must think I’m a pathetic excuse for a man.
Inside the condo, my nerves bubble up all over again. I need to make things right. I need to apologize for last night. Rachel was good to me. A better friend than any I’ve ever had before, and what did I do? I snuck out without a word, or even leaving a note. I almost want her to be angry. That’d be easier to approach than more sympathy.
I follow the sound of a cupboard closing, and find her in my kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. Her face brightens with a soft smile. “Hey.”
I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Hi.”
“How are you feeling this morning?”
“Better.”
“Good.” She smiles again, giving me an out. She’s not mad, or acting weird, or wanting to bring up last night, which takes me by surprise. “Coffee?”
“Yeah. Thank you.”
She pours two cups and gets out the creamer and sugar.
“Oh, I keep meaning to give you this.” I open a drawer, and retrieve the extra key and security fob I ordered a few days ago. I slide them to her on the counter. “I’m sorry I didn’t get them to you sooner. I want you to be comfortable. To be able to come and go without me.” I should’ve given them to her at the beginning of the week. Selfishly, I wanted all her time. I don’t regret it, either.
“A key?” She lifts her brows and tilts her chin. “But I’m only here two more nights.”
Don’t remind me. “Yeah.”
She opens her mouth as if she wants to ask more questions.
I cut her off before she does. “What are your plans today?”
“Nothing.” She shrugs, her gaze falling to the counter.
“Good.” I lean my hip against the counter, and adopt my best gets-whatever-he-wants smolder. I haven’t used it much on Rachel—I assume she’s immune, because none of my usual tricks and moves work on her. But for this it doesn’t hurt to pull out all the stops. I really don’t want to go alone. “How do you feel about educational tours?”
The start of a smile tugs at her lips. “Is that code for something I don’t want to know?”
Probably. “Down to tag along on a field trip?”
She takes a sip of coffee, setting it down on the counter with a laugh. “Aren’t you sick of me yet?”
Not in the slightest. “I could use the company.”
Her lips press together and she looks as though she might say yes.
“Come with me, Rachel.” I steeple my hands at my chest. I’m not beyond begging. “Please? I need a buddy. I don’t want to do this alone.”
She laughs. “Then why are you going?”
“It’s for a client.”
“Of course it is.” She rolls her eyes playfully. I can’t even be offended. I take my work seriously, and she knows this. “Fine. When do you need to leave?”
“Thirty minutes. I need to shower first.” I take a swig of coffee, then set the mug in the sink. “You can protect my virtue.”
“Jude.” She sets down her drink, a skeptical glint to her stare. “What kind of tour is this?”
I meet her gaze. “A sex club.”
“You’re joking.” Her eyes widen.
“I wish.” I chuckle at the look of shock on her face. I snap my fingers and point at her as I back out of the kitchen. “Be ready to go in thirty.”
She shakes her head, her expression a mixture of repulsion and astonishment. “I’m not going to a sex club with you.”
“Why?” I take a few more backward steps, smiling at the glare she levels my way. “Afraid you won’t be able to control yourself?”
She sputters and I disappear into the guest bathroom for a shower before she can protest any further.
<
br /> 36
Rachel
I don’t consider myself a prude. I’ve always been open-minded when it comes to people, situations, and sex. But spending my Saturday at an exclusive sex club with Jude? Yeah, this sends my comfort zone out the window of a skyscraper. My gut is a ball of nerves and my senses are hyperaware. Even though we are the only two people in the facility besides the owner—I mean, Mistress—I’m nervous. Not that I’m scared of Jude. He wouldn’t do anything without my permission. But everything inside these rooms speaks to depraved sex and animalistic desires, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. The rich, dark colors and thick, heavy fabrics of the decor scream wealth and power. The sexual toys and implements promise kinky pain and pleasure.
“If you’d like, I can guide you with a tour. Answer your questions. Help with any demonstrations?” Mistress addresses Jude, her gaze intense, and there is zero question in my mind that she’d love to play with him. She’s all but ignored my presence since taking the NDAs and insurance forms we were required to sign.
Yeah, this is not the standard field trip. My parents would be horrified. My brother would encourage me to enjoy any hands-on opportunities. Good thing I made Jude promise on the way over we would never speak of this with anyone, ever.
Jude, ever the embodiment of sophistication and composure in his custom-tailored suit, gives me a quick glance before answering her. “I think we’ll just have a look around, if that’s okay? I can follow up with you afterward? Should only take about twenty minutes or so, as we discussed.”
Her lips quirk up with the start of a smile. “That’s agreeable. I’ll be in my office.” She nods at a closed door. “But I will have to take your cell phones. No photography within the facility.”
“Of course.” Jude hands over his cell.
I do the same.
“I’ll have to check your bag.” She eyes my purse.
I’m normally good at small talk and will strike up conversation with anyone, but this woman exudes a level of dominance that is seriously intimidating. I hand over my bag. “You can keep it. I mean, hold it.” My heart races in my chest as she lifts her brows. I laugh nervously. “I’ll get it when we check out.”