A long wolf whistle from behind us makes me pull away and Chase grins. His eyes bright with merriment.
“Damn, you didn’t greet me like that,” Maria complains with a pout.
Chase puts his arm around my waist and pulls me against him. I curl into his side. “Sorry. I’m a one woman kind of man,” he says then dips down for another scorching kiss. Damn he’s pretty, and distracting. I push him off me and he chases my lips then settles for a quick nip on the bottom one before bringing his attention back to our admirer.
Maria winks as a wicked grin slides into place. “Gigi, call me later. Let me know whether or not you’ll be coming home this evening.” She’s about to head to her room to change for rehearsal.
“She won’t be coming home,” Chase answers, a hand at my nape, his preferred swooping circles drawn into my skin, send shivers to race along my spine.
We both turn and he shrugs nonchalantly. Maria grins at me and waggles her eyebrows.
“Shall we go, Kitten?” His hand caresses my elbow. Kitten? I’m going to ensure that nickname doesn’t stick.
I hug Maria good bye, and Chase holds out his hand to her. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss De La Torre.”
Maria laughs and pulls him into a hug. She whispers something in his ear before patting him on the back. Chase coughs. “Understood,” he says with a nod.
He leads me out of the apartment and into the waiting car. I give Jack directions to the doctor’s office then lean back into the seat next to Chase. He puts his hand on my stocking covered knee and slides it down my inner thigh until he reaches the edge of my thigh-high.
“Good girl,” he whispers. He traces the edge of the stocking, and I open my legs wider. He doesn’t take the bait which makes me pout. “All in good time,” he says against my ear before nipping the flesh there.
I groan and clamp my legs together. “What did Maria say to you?” I ask, trying to tame the wild harlot inside of me.
“She threatened me,” he says flatly.
I blink a few times while the words have trouble forming on my tongue. “She didn’t!”
He grins and nods. “She said if I hurt you she’d fucking kill me. Her words, not mine.” He chuckles.
She’s a dead woman. Wait until I get my claws into her. Revenge is a mean bitch and I intend to invoke mine at the most inopportune time. I shake my head in frustration. So damned protective, my girl. I can’t wait to get her back.
“I like her. She’s very,” he pauses, “real,” he finishes.
Just then my phone pings. I pull the phone from my new Louis Vuitton and check the screen.
To: Gillian Callahan
From: Maria De La Torre
Gatito? I hope that means he likes licking the kitty. (-;
“God, she’s incorrigible!” I laugh and try to stuff the phone back into my purse. Before I can, Chase swipes the phone and holds it out while I try to grab it. His arms are too damn long!
“What?” The man has no concern for one’s privacy. He reads the message and hands the phone back to me with a smirk. It burns a hole through my palm as I wait for his response.
Time has stopped, and I lean my head back and close my eyes, not wanting to know what he thinks. His hand slides higher up my leg, almost tickling the edge of my panties. His nose brushes my neck and the small hairs there stand on end. His tongue trails up the side of my neck and swirls the edge of my ear. The breath I was holding escapes in a whoosh.
His voice is more like a growl than a whisper against my ear. “I plan to lick you everywhere, every inch, especially here.” He punctuates his statement by cupping my sex roughly. I bite my lip and thrust my hips forward on a moan. I feel his lips curl into a sultry smile against my cheek. “I love how responsive you are. How wet you become for me.” He slides one finger up and down my cleft, his breath against my skin sets my nerve endings on fire.
The car stops and Jack gets out. I curse when Chase removes his hand and adjusts his suit coat over his straining erection. At least I know he’s as affected as I am. The outside world would never have a clue he’s just fondled a woman in his car. He is stellar at keeping his composure.
We get out of the car and walk into the doctor’s office. I take deep breaths and hold his hand. It’s like an anchor in an oncoming storm.
Chapter 9
The doctor’s office is bright and comfortable. Purple chairs nestle against a long wall in the waiting area. Magazines are scattered on top of the lone coffee table. Chase picks a seat away from any of the other patients as I check in. I haven’t been to this doctor previously but made sure my past records were sent from the doctor I had in Sacramento prior to my visit. I’m ordered to fill out paperwork. Chase sits quietly next to me, his warm hand caressing my back in soothing sweeps. He doesn’t know this, but I am not a fan of doctors. Countless visits to hospitals where doctor after doctor quizzed me about how I got hurt, poked and prodded at me has made me leery.
In the past I’d always lied, made up bogus stories about falling down on my bike, rollerblades, and stairs. None of which happened but seemed likely. Some of the medical professionals cared very little. Others would notify me they were bringing in a patient advocate. Those words always made me throw on my clothes and escape as if the building were on fire. The last thing I needed then were helpful “advocates” who would end up calling the police on Justin.
I learned that particular lesson the hard way. Justin was a master manipulator. The first time an advocate tried to “help”, I was beaten black and blue while being fucked brutally. I could barely walk for days after. Justin claimed he fucked some sense into me. It worked. I never spoke to an advocate again. Not until I made the call that saved my life.
Within fifteen minutes of arriving with Chase, I am seated in another waiting room. Chase followed me into the exam room as if he were owed the privilege. I sit on the exam table and twist my fingers together as he sits in a lone chair behind me. The silence between us is comfortable but still heavy with that energy that sizzles when we are near one another. He browses through his emails on his cellphone as I try to calm my heart rate with deep yoga style breathing Bree taught me. Being in a doctor’s office with Chase is a bit unsettling. If I’m honest, being in a doctor’s office at all is unsettling.
The doctor strides in with his nose in my file. He’s a man of about fifty, dark wavy hair, tall, strong build. He wears rimless glasses that add nicely to his features.
“So, Miss Callahan, you’ve come to have some stitches removed.” He looks at me over the rim of his glasses.
“Yes, Doctor Dutera.”
He flips through pages in my file, skimming them. It’s not a small file. The doctor in Sacramento must have been thorough in sending my past medical history. “Looks like you are no stranger to having stitches removed.” I clench my jaw tightly. “Let’s see here, also broken ribs, fractured wrists, dislocated shoulder, broken arm, not once but twice, black eyes and a slew of hospital visits.” He shakes his head and smacks his lips. “Looks like for a couple of years you were a regular over at Mercy General in Sac.” His eyes are kind as he looks from the file to me, then over at Chase. “Do you have any residual pain from those injuries,” he asks.
Residual pain? I glance towards Chase, hoping he isn’t paying attention. Instead of being in the chair, he’s standing right behind me with his chest a scant few inches from me. I look up into his eyes. They are clouded, unreadable. Tension emanates from him in droves and I close my eyes. I cannot see anything remotely close to pity ever again in someone else’s eyes. Especially a man I’m so taken with.
“I’m accident prone. Can we get on with the stitches? I need to get to work.”
Doctor Dutera slaps the file shut and nods curtly. He pulls on a pair of latex gloves then proceeds to clean the area around my stitches. Chase brings his hand to my back and caresses my lower back and up to my neck and down in a calming motion.
With the first snip of a stitch and the corresponding burst o
f pain, my mind catapults to another time.
“You’re a lying little whore! You think I don’t know about you and Todd?” Justin is on a tirade. He’s shit-faced drunk with a chip on his shoulder. I know instantly nothing good will come of this.
“Justin, I would never cheat on you. I love you. You know that. There’s no one else but you,” I assure him. The blow comes so hard against my eye I fall to the floor. I clutch the tender spot over my eye in pain.
“You’re fucking your study buddy. I know it! The second I leave he has his hands all over you, doesn’t he? Doesn’t he?” he screams.
I try to stand, but he kicks me in the gut repeatedly. Hot, white, pain rips through my chest as I hear the sick crunching sound of my rib breaking. I lose count of the blows. I howl and gasp when he comes down on top of me, holding my arms over my head with one hand. Forcing broken ribs to stretch and arc almost makes me black out. The pain is so intense it’s as if I’m being gutted.
“Look here, you little whore; no one is going to want you. You’re not worth your weight in shit. You’re lucky I’ve stayed, but you will not fuck, kiss, or touch another man. You got it?” He bangs my head against the wood floor and I see stars. I nod furiously in answer to his question but he punches my face anyway, splitting my lip open. Blood oozes down the side of my face, the taste of copper fills my mouth as I gurgle and sputter around a scream.
“Gillian, what the fuck? You’re okay, Baby, you’re okay! I’m here.” I feel Chase’s strong arms around me. I clutch his suit jacket. Tears stream down my face.
The doctor has backed away, his eyes wide, mouth agape. Chase has his arms firmly around me as he pets and caresses me. I haven’t had a flashback in a long time. Over a year at least.
“I’m okay, I’m sorry. I’m fine.” I push Chase away and avoid looking into his eyes. “I’m fine now. Thank you.” I wipe my wet cheeks with the backs of my hands. “Doctor, are we finished?” I sniff and Chase hands me a handkerchief. Of course he would have a handkerchief. Probably monogrammed. I wipe my dripping nose on the soft cotton.
“Yes, but Miss Callahan, I think we should discuss what just happened here,” he suggests.
I hop off the exam table and grab my purse. Chase stands behind me. “Not today. Thank you, Doctor Dutera. I’m sorry for the…I’m sorry.” I grab the door handle and briskly walk out to the waiting room and straight on out to the city street. Once I am outside I inhale deeply, taking in my surroundings, trying to let go of the raging past that swarms around my subconscious like a hive of angry bees.
When I catch my breath and shake off the last dregs of the past, I notice Chase leaning against the car waiting patiently for me to address him. I know he wants answers but right now, I don’t have them. I don’t know that I ever will.
“Look, Chase, I can’t explain what happened in there--”
“You can, and you will,” he says, his tone firm.
“I can’t.” Tears stream down my face again as I desperately try to find a way to deal with this.
Chase wipes them away, and then kisses each cheek and finally my lips. “Later then.”
I nod into his chest as he hugs me. His firm embrace is like a haven to my tortured soul. Safe, warm, and solid. I clutch at him, digging my fingers into his muscular back. He holds me tighter and whispers in my ear. “Do you still want to go to work? I could call Mr. Jefferson for you?” he offers.
A bubble of laughter fills me and spills out as I rub my nose against his breastbone, inhaling his woodsy citrus scent. I pull back. “That’s rich. Let the Chairman of the Board call in sick for me from work? Somehow I don’t think that would go over well.” I smile then inhale and exhale slowly, letting it all go. Being here, having Chase’s arms around me just makes it better. “I’m fine. Take me to work.”
We get into the car and we’re off to the Safe Haven Foundation. When we arrive, I jump out of the car before Chase can comment or Jack can open the door. “The car will pick you up after work, Gillian,” Chase calls.
I turn and look at him as he slowly walks toward me. He really is a modern day Superman. His lengthy form as he walks toward me is virile, manly. Chase’s dark hair blows enticingly in the wind giving him that rugged sexy aura as he stalks toward me in a black suit that was tailored to perfection. The blue pinstriped dress shirt is making his eyes light up and seem even bluer than what is possible in real life. His sculpted features turn liquid and sensual as he reaches me, places his hands on my shoulders and slides them up to cup my neck. He caresses my cheeks with his thumbs as I’ve come to expect from his touch.
“I will take care of you. You’re never going to be hurt again,” he promises. If only that were true. He doesn’t know me. I’m damaged. I close my eyes, cutting off the sincerity I see in his eyes. “Tonight,” he grins.
I nod. “Tonight.”
He kisses my forehead and releases me. I stand with my eyes closed as he walks away.
***
Jack arrives with the full limo promptly at 5:00 p.m. I see quite a few stares and mouths catching flies at the front of the building as I scurry into the vehicle. This ought to give the gossip mill new fodder for at least a week.
The drive takes thirty minutes from one side of the city to the other in rush hour traffic. I don’t mind. It gives me time to think.
I haven’t had a flashback like this morning’s in a long time. I didn’t realize those old wounds were still so close to the surface. I haven’t even heard from Justin in six months. Doesn’t mean he’s done taunting me. Sometimes I hear from mutual friends that he’s asked about me, trying to find out my whereabouts. The last time I saw him I was with Daniel.
Daniel and I were together about three months then. Daniel was larger than Justin and promptly scared Justin shitless. He also helped make sure a restraining order against Justin was firmly in place. He wasn’t aware of the details, just that Justin was part of my past and not a pleasant part. The night we ran into Justin, Daniel stayed over after the run in. He made slow, sweet love to me. I didn’t orgasm, never did with Daniel, but it was a nice respite from the volatile situation with Justin.
I was content with Daniel. He made me feel safe. He was a large man that I knew could take out anyone who tried to harm me. I met him at the gym, but he was an accountant for a large firm downtown. He worked out as much as I did. It was about the only thing we had in common. Daniel was good to me. Treated me like a lady. Only problem was he did so in every aspect of our relationship. Sexually he was inept at fulfilling me. There was no passion. Not like with Chase.
Chase is in a league of his own. I have never felt such a deep seated attraction to another person. My immediate fascination with Justin pales in comparison. My body gravitates towards Chase, and I’m powerless to stop it. He stirs desire that burns in me like white hot fire. Just thinking about him has my pulse quickening, my core thrumming and my thighs pressing together.
Jack stops in front of a tall, concrete and glass skyscraper. The building is unique from its neighbors. It’s sleek and sophisticated but has a charm you don’t often see in a concrete jungle. The building is a bluish gray in color. Red accents surround each window of the bottom floor. A huge waterfall alternates water bursts and then trickles down three tiled tiers. A glowing concrete sign boasts “Davis Industries.” I shake my head, laughing at the absurdity that I’ve been to this building before to see Phillip and never knew the Chairman of my Foundation owned the building.
Jack ushers me to the wide bank of elevators. We step in and he presses the “50” on the lit display. Under the fiftieth floor is a letter “P” and a square LCD screen with the words “Thumbprint” on top of it.
“What’s the P stand for?” I ask.
“Penthouse, Mr. Davis’s private residence.” His lips thin into a grim line and I wonder if he’ll ever be nice to me or capable of having a congenial conversation.
“So, you have to put your thumb over the screen?” I’m curious. I’ve never seen anything lik
e it. The movies with the rich billionaires all have some type of keycard or physical key to unlock the magic quarters.
“Yes.”
“Do I have access?”
Jack smirks. “Very few have access to Mr. Davis’s private quarters.” He looks at me as if I’ve grown horns. “His women friends don’t typically receive access to his home.” He turns back to the closed doors of the elevator. Women friends. Is that what I am? Would Chase’s bodyguard know otherwise?
I remember that Chase mentioned he didn’t take women back to his home. I wonder if he’ll take me there. He’d said he wanted to but that could have been a random remark, not really his intention. Do I want to have access to his home? What would that mean for us?
The doors open to the fiftieth floor and a beautiful blonde woman greets us. “Miss Callahan.”
I recognize her from the board meeting last weekend. She was sitting next to Chase taking notes but didn’t participate in the meeting.
“I’m Gillian Callahan.” She comes around the desk and shakes my hand.
“Jack, I’ll take it from here, thank you.” Jack nods and walks down the hall. “Mr. Davis is expecting you.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Dana Shepherd. I’m Mr. Chase’s personal assistant.” She smiles warmly at me. She’s a very beautiful woman. Probably in her early thirties. Even in heels she’s still a couple inches taller than I am. Dana’s thin with a runner’s long and lean build and dressed in a fierce black suit, though her gait is much softer. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a chignon so perfect I would have thought it was professionally done by a hair stylist.
“Good to meet you.” She’s the epitome of what I saw Chase with in those pictures online. Has he slept with her?
She leads me through a long hallway. Several people in suits rush by with jackets and briefcases. I imagine they are heading home for the evening. Even at the late hour, there are quite a few people still in their offices, phones glued to their ears. We end at a section of double doors with a desk sequestered to the right side. Dana steps around the desk and hits a button. “Miss Callahan is here to see you,” she says.
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