by Ann, Pamela
Dimitris. Here. Somewhere. Was he watching me?
I went to pick the phone up and it powered on with no problem. I realized that it was brand new, but my contacts, pictures and everything else were in there. How the heck did he manage to get that phone when I saw it fly out, freefalling, into the city of Athens?
Scrambling through my contact list, I dialed his number. I was holding my breath, waiting to hear his voice as the ring kept going until an automated person told me that he was unavailable.
I looked into the road, checking out parked cars to see if he was in any of them, half hoping to see him and half hoping that he’d left already. My heart sunk when it dawned on me that he wasn’t here. Of course, he’d leave. Knowing him, he probably felt bad about my phone and my blankie and just needed to make sure I got them back. He was an amazing guy. I knew that, but it was wretched when he proved to me again that he was.
When I got back into my bedroom, Brody looked confused when he saw my phone and blankie. “You had it all along?”
I shook my head, pressing my lips together. “Someone had it shipped here.”
“At two in the morning?”
“I guess so.”
~Dimitris~
Name me a masochist, a man to the point of desperation or simply a man in love, but I couldn’t stay away from her.
It was two in the morning and I should’ve gone straight to the hotel to wait until the morning to see her, however my need overrode reason.
Getting out of the car, I was walking towards her house when I heard her voice somewhere close. The instant surge of joy that bubbled out fizzled the second I heard a man’s voice as well. I just knew that the man’s voice was the same man she’d been in love with since childhood. It was there in his voice when he called her pookie.
I hid behind a tree, hoping that they didn’t see me as they walked towards my direction. I was holding my breath until they moved past. A quick glimpse, a second was all it took to change everything for me as I watched them go inside her home, his arms wrapped around her. The ultimate nail to my coffin, though, was the kind of smile she gave him; it literally broke me in two. Never once had she smiled at me like that, pure and unmasked.
A couple of minutes later, I came out of my hiding place when I was sure they were safely inside her home. Each step I took towards her house resounded with the heaviness in my heart.
Lindsey was happy, that’s all I should think about. My unrequited love and feelings were demons I would surely fight for the rest of my life, but it was my own fight to battle, not hers or anyone else’s. This was all my doing, placing us in this predicament, although I was going to undo it and hoped that it was for the best, for her.
Piteously, I placed the bag on her doorstep then waited a moment before I kissed the pad of my finger and pushed for the doorbell. Hiding behind the very same tree, I listened until the door was opened, heard movements about—Lindsey’s in particular.
“Great, stupid, college drunk kids!” Lindsey muttered, sounding annoyed before she gasped loudly, “What the—”
Her gasp told me that she’d found the paper bag. The dark shade around the tree convinced me enough to tilt my head a bit, merely enough for me to get a peek of her and still have my body hidden away.
She took hold of the phone, powering it on before she checked what was in it. The tiny light from the screen accentuated her breathtaking beauty. Her beautiful face frowned as she went through her files. When her frown deepened, I knew she’d found her old pictures and videos in there.
After that night, the one where I threw her phone over the ledge to the city below, I had hired a team of people to locate the broken device. A difficult task since God knew where the heck it had landed. After five days of searching, it was located on a rooftop somewhere where it had smashed down, though not enough to destroy its memory. I hadn’t meant to throw it out, but when I heard her talking to him in a sexual context, my jealousy took over. It was a knee-jerk reaction. When it came to Lindsey and any man associated with her, I was jealous of them because I knew she didn’t love me. Somehow, I took our constant mating and the overzealous need to be around each other, into something more—one I imagined in my head.
Lindsey had her phone next to her ear, calling someone. My heart dislodged in my throat when my phone vibrated in my pants. I was relieved that I had it on vibrate. When she bit her lip after the voicemail picked up, I fought the urge to steal her away and keep her as mine because I knew the truth. She wasn’t mine. Her heart was set on being with Brody Thompson.
Lindsey took a few steps to check the parked cars and sighed when she didn’t find me. She was wearing a tiny, silk slip that outlined her erect nipples. The length ended an inch below the curve of her butt and, when she spun around to head inside her house, the images of her spending the night with Brody in her bed a couple of days after me, brought moisture to my eyes.
Blinking them back, I willed myself to move until I was safe in the confines of the vehicle, breathing through my mouth. Pappou had been right when he’d said that sometimes it takes for the person to be gone to realize their true value because it made Lindsey realize who she wanted to be with.
“Make her happy,” I murmured, thinking of Brody.
Taking hold of my phone, the missed call from Lindsey got deleted, along with her phone number. I wasn’t trying to be immature, but I didn’t want to fight with myself on a daily basis about calling or texting her. The second task was to call my pilots.
“There’s been a change of plans. How long will it take to get ready to fly out to Paris?” I asked, determined to leave this city, this country, and be as far from her as possible.
An hour and a half later, I was up in the air, drinking my sorrows away before the jet’s phone started ringing. It was my mother. “Ma, tell Pappou to file the papers. She’s where she should be, where she should’ve been to begin with.”
She begged me to let her go, so I shall or I will at least try with all my might.
~D~
Back to my old, drunken self, I arrived at my apartment in Paris, one where I had Claudine living.
“Mon cher,” Claudine greeted me the second I entered the apartment. I paused, staring at her, confused.
Her smiling face, grated me the other way. The feeling of suffocation was capsizing me. The need to run and leave everything behind was so profound; I knew I needed to do something before I went mad.
“I have to go.” I scurried out of there, Claudine’s face blurring away as I got into the elevator again.
I ended up at a club and, two hours later, I was beyond inebriated, checking into a hotel along with the two hot, blonde Germans I had met.
They felt good, but the more I fucked them, the worse the tightening of my chest ached. I wished this feeling could suffocate me and kill me while I was cock-deep inside a woman’s vagina.
That would certainly make for a good headline.
Chapter 16
A week later, we were getting ready to head out for Bass’s twenty-fifth birthday party. Brody and I were bonding, not physically, but emotionally.
Our relationship was easy and we evened out each other. I wanted to get used to being with him before I decided to take the plunge and officially date him… along with getting intimate once more. God knows when I’d be ready.
Just as the Greek had told me before, he wanted me throbbing and swollen weeks after he pummeled me inside out. True to his word, I would clench my muscles once in a while because I would feel him there, STILL. It was an awful mind game. Dimitris was messing with me even though he wasn’t around.
It was a blasted ingenious idea.
We arrived at Bass’s Hollywood Hills home, complete with valet and attendants as well as a rigorous security man that looked like the Hulk, thrice double checking our I.D.’s, pockets and purses, confiscating any phones and any recording device. On top of that, we had to sign a gag order that nothing about this party would be told to the media. PERIOD.
Brody threw me an annoyed look. “I’m right here, Lindsey.”
Bass grinned, greeting Brody like a gentleman—even though he wanted to kill my brother, he was kind to his best friend. The Golden Boy then turned to me, giving me a tight hug before whispering into my ear. “I apologize. The news isn’t out about Nikki, but once it is, they’ll dig up everything they can find about Emma and I—and I can’t have that. I have to protect her. The media’s volatile and I don’t want her portrayed as the woman who stole me from Nikki or anything. I hope you understand.”
“Good. You take care of Emma and I’ll tackle Nikki,” I offered. He gave me a winning smile and squeezed my shoulder before some man took him away.
Damn, this was what I had meant when I’d told dear ole Emma that he was a good man; a very sexy, oozing with testosterone, smoldering sex god of a man—that was Bass Cole. Not only that, but the man was packing the ultimate package. Yeah, Trista and I caught him doing the nasty with Emma and, let me just say, I could’ve came on the spot just watching him work it. Naughty thoughts, but it was inevitable. Seriously.
A few hours later, one champagne case down and several to go, we were exchanging stories—some good, but mostly embarrassing ones—when things shifted.
Trista was telling a story about Taylor and his “no bullshit” way of dealing with things when we heard Emma gasp loudly—the last breath, dying sort.
Of course, we were a curious rat pack, so we checked what had made her do that. The Russian, in all her magnificence, was gliding about, wearing a flowy dress that showed off her assets. From where I’m standing, she didn’t look with child, but then again, given her work-out routine and her diet, she probably wouldn’t show until later.
“Dude, why the hell did you invite her here?” Taylor chided his best friend, disappointed.
“I fucking didn’t, but now that she’s here, I can’t boot her out. That’s going to cause a scene and that’s the last thing I need right now!” Bass raked a hand over his hair, feeling helpless. “Em, I didn’t invite her, okay?”
Emma gave him a brave smile before whispering, “I know.” She stood up, gathering him with her. “Come on; let’s greet our new visitor to our home.”
We watched as they welcomed Nikki while Brody gathered me close, kissing my nape. “I love you,” he whispered against my skin, making it tingle.
“Well, I’m proud of our girl. The old Emma would’ve probably sat back, fumed and got her ass drunk. Guess, she really is fighting for her man. Do or die,” Amber said out loud, toasting.
Bass looked like a shaken up, corked champagne bottle, ready to pop. Emma looked pleasant, trying not too hard, she was more civilized in appearance. Nikki, on the other hand, simply looked like an evil bitch; smiling in the most fake manner while eyeing Bass like he was going to be her meal tonight.
“Russian bitch is going to get it,” I gritted out, feeling what about how Bass must have been feeling.
Trista interrupted, “Hell, I’ll take her first.”
“Hell, no! I knock her first then you can take over,” Amber added. It was no wonder that we all were not happy campers, we hated having to sit back and watch our friends get played by some woman who had the seriously MAJOR issue of not letting Bass go.
“Calm down, will you, little rugrats?” Taylor warned us, acting like a good referee. “In case any of you lady rascals forgot, the woman in question is pregnant. So ease up with the catfights, please.”
“Really, babe? So not the time to be such a good guy, okay?” Trista was heated. I suppose, you can call Emma “our baby” because she was the kindest one amongst us and the youngest, too.
The three of us waited like good, little angels until Nikki had to go to the bathroom. After all, a pregnant woman had a bad bladder, right?
When we followed inside the bathroom, there was a woman checking herself out at the mirror before Trista tapped her on the shoulder. “Miss, our friend is having the runs. Unless you want to stay for the stink bomb, you better run outside.”
“Ew, gross bitch!” the woman disgustedly threw at her before she spun around and left.
I was sitting on one of the chaise lounges, waiting for the sound of the flushing toilet while Trista was leaning against the secured door and Amber was leaning against the sink, tapping her fingers on the granite top.
At the sound of the flush being released, it took Nikki another couple of minutes to come out. She was fixing her skirt as she walked towards the wash area when she noticed us.
Nikki paused, flicking back and forth before she started laughing like she was being tickled. “Awww, I have a welcome party? Thanks, I feel so special, you guys.”
Bitch was unreal. “Cut the moronic lines, Nikki,” I barked at her before I got up and looked down on her. “Get the stupid DNA test before this turns into an ugly mess. If you love Bass, at all, you won’t risk this kind of heartache for him.”
“I’m risking for the both of us. We were happy, but Emma seduced him. He’ll tire of her, I just know it,” Nikki hissed out, looking at us like we were filthy. “The three of you, little gold-diggers and Emma’s hangers-on for a little fame and money, need to fucking disappear.” When we didn’t move, she threw a hissy fit. “Do you want me to have Bass throw you all out? He’d do that for me.”
Trista snorted. “Lady, I want to see you try. Bass will probably throw you out himself if it were possible, but then again, you did this on purpose. To show face that you’re still somewhat connected to him, so that when your bun in the oven starts showing, it’ll look like you and Bass still kept in touch, maybe even could be reconciling. That way, you’re protecting your image, keeping the delusion that you and Bass are still bueno. He doesn’t like you. I heard him tell his best friend the other night. So, consider this DNA testing just to get it over with.”
Nikki’s big, brown eyes and beautiful face were completely unyielding, mind set already on Bass. She wasn’t going to give him up. I could see that now.
“How much do you need to go away?” Amber asked, dead serious.
“Bass Cole. That’s my currency. He’s mine,” the Russian bitch spat out, proud. “Tell your blonde friend that I look forward to getting my man back.”
Amber launched herself at Nikki. “You dirty son of—”
I pulled her away before she reached the Russian psycho, not wanting to cause any trouble. Nikki gave us an evil smile before leaving the restroom.
“I almost had her, Linds! What the hell!” Amber rubbed the spot where I gripped her hard, her skin a tad sore.
“I had to. Didn’t you hear her? She’s a cookie. She’d get you in trouble and you don’t want your parents to get on your case.”
Trista chimed in, “You can’t reason with a mental person; a pregnant one to boot. Not to mention the kind of crap she’d come up with to make Emma look bad if you beat her pretty, little face up.”
What a dumb dick Bass’s penis was. Of all the women to attract, he sure did choose the perfect one out of the pack, pun intended. He sure was lucky Emma was staying with him because if that had happened to me, no matter how hot or how delicious you are, I won’t tolerate shit like that. Bass was a great man, but what the fuck? This was just too much for Emma, especially after what happened last year. Girlfriend couldn’t even catch a break.
She was suffering, but she loved Bass. What good would love do if you’re only to suffer? What happens when she sees this woman swollen and very pregnant with Bass’s child? There was a fifty perfect chance that it was his. The risk was too big. The damage would be beyond irreparable.
I would have never thought anything could come in between Emma and Bass, but a crazy, baby momma and a little Bass would surely bury their relationship. Looking at it from this angle, I ac
hed for my friend and what she’d go through. Never in my life, especially a beloved friend of mine, had I even dared think this, let alone consider it, but I was almost wishing that she’d go back to Carter.
My brother fucked himself all the way to Mars, but seeing him now, I know he loved Emma and would take her back in a heartbeat. Or maybe she could merely be single and enjoy being in this new celebrity status that she was having while she dated other men. Then again, this was Emma, who knew what went on in that pretty, little head of hers.
I knew one thing, though, I’d bet her chunky ass that she’d want to deck Nikki herself.
Chapter 17
“Do you think it’s Bass’s kid?” Trista wondered out loud while we sat on the couch, eating breakfast.
I shrugged, not wanting to say anything. We were still reeling from his birthday party last night. Clearly, Nikki had pissed us all off.
Amber grabbed the orange juice carton, pouring as she let us in on her theory. “This is dumb and so random, but maybe Emma wasn’t meant to be with him? Didn’t you guys notice that there’s just too much crap around those two? Maybe she’s meant for Carter. Soccer-stud had definitely turned a one-eighty for our girl.”
“Bass will make you his public enemy number one if you keep yapping like that, Amber!” Trista glared at her, protective of Bass.
~L~
I came out of my bedroom, fresh from a shower and about to hunt down some lunch when I stopped and gawked at the catastrophic sea of lemons everywhere in our home, along with vase after vase of peonies. “What the fuck is all this? Did you guys open up a flower shop without the fucking shop or what?” I yelled, not understanding all this crap around me.
Trista came out of the kitchen, lips smudged with chocolate icing, grinning. “Apparently, it’s Emma’s and Bass’s one fuck-year anniversary.”