GLASS: A Standalone Novel

by Arianne Richmonde

  “Only a couple more days. As I said, I’m bailing on the movie so there’s no point being here longer.”

  “You could catch a few rays. Hang out a while.”

  “I don’t ‘hang out,’ Janie, you should know that by now.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, I should know that by now. A girl can dream.”

  He turned to me, took me by the hand, and stared me in the eye a full ten seconds (which felt like a millennium) and said, “What do you dream about, Janie Juilliard?”

  I could feel myself turning beet-red, from my toes all the way up to my hair, which felt like it was standing on end with the charge of electricity between us. You, and little else. “This and that.”

  He pulled me by the hand, leading me into the enormous circular foyer that shone marble, and twinkled with crystal chandeliers, and vast floor to ceiling picture windows. He had never held my hand before—well, once, just to lead me upstage during rehearsal, to show me where to stand. His hand was warm and firm, and I tried not to grip it too hard. His other hand he slid around my waist. I could sense myself tingling all over. “Well, I dreamt about you, Janie, last night.”

  What?? I couldn’t answer, my mouth parted in shock. “And?”

  “I was fu . . . following you,” he said, and he swallowed hard. He narrowed his cerulean-blue eyes, locking his gaze on mine as if he were reading my thoughts.

  “On a beach?” I suggested. Heat spiraled through my body. I am not imagining this! Daniel Glass is flirting with me! He was dreaming he had sex with me! Fu . . . following me!

  He smirked ever so slightly. “No, not on a beach.”

  “Where?” I asked, way too eagerly.

  He dropped my hand and took a step back as if to distance himself. “I can’t remember.”

  Liar! “Because I dreamt about you last night,” I confessed in a quiet voice, “what do you think that means, that we’re dreaming about each other simultaneously?”

  He shrugged. “Absolutely nothing. We saw each other yesterday, hadn’t for over a year, and . . . well, it’s normal, isn’t it, that we should slip into the other’s subconscious now and again? Come outside—we should take advantage of this sunshine while we can. Come. You want a drink? A Coke or something?”

  “Sure,” I said, feeling a little hurt at what he’d said. ‘Slip into the other’s subconscious now and again.’ If only he knew the extent of thought-time he inhabited in my brain. In fact, he had a whole mansion in my brain, exquisitely furnished, endless grand rooms, even ballrooms, wandering corridors, leading to more rooms, with French doors leading onto sprawling gardens—the view endless.

  We passed by the kitchen and Daniel got some Cokes out of the fridge. Classic Coke. I knew better than to get him on the subject of Pepsi, or even Diet Coke. Daniel was a purist.

  He clinked in some ice and slices of lemon and set the drinks on a tray. Even the simplest thing like preparing a couple of sodas was done with precision. The Daniel Glass way.

  “Here, Janie.” He handed me my drink, looking me in the eye again, and I saw a flash of sadness. There was something different about him. He seemed vulnerable somehow. Worse than vulnerable, broken. Then again, his wife had died. Normal. Although Daniel Glass and vulnerable didn’t seem to go hand in hand.

  We walked out to the pool, a kidney-shaped, shimmering expanse of water with an island in the middle.

  “Who is this friend of yours who owns this crazy place?” I sat on a sun lounger.

  “A guy in fashion, you wouldn’t have heard of him. But he’s rich as Croesus. He comes here, literally, a few weeks a year. He lives in Tuscany, London, Rome, New York. He’s Italian and has always been extremely generous to me. He’s one of our angels.”

  “Angels?”

  “He’s backed me several times with my productions.”

  I’d forgotten that term “angels” to denote a person who gave money to the theater simply for the love of it, asking nothing in return except a philanthropic love for the arts.

  I took a sip of my Coke. “Not a bad friend to have then.”

  “So you’re hanging out with that movie star, Star Davis?”

  “Yes, I’m staying with her and her family,” I said, twisting my hair up into a makeshift bun to get it off my neck.

  “If you’re hot, take your jeans off, don’t mind me. I’m going to have a quick swim. Maybe I can find a spare swimsuit for you in the changing room.”

  “I’m fine, really.” The truth was I didn’t want Daniel to see my pale legs. I suddenly felt self-conscious about what I’d done in that meeting yesterday. “Daniel, I apologize if I embarrassed you in front of Pearl Chevalier and Samuel Myers.”

  “Actually, it was quite amusing.” His lips tilted into an ironic smile.

  “Really? You don’t hate me?”

  “I could never hate you, Janie Juilliard.”

  “I don’t know what got over me, it wasn’t planned—”

  “When that fat fuck insulted you, I nearly got up and punched him. But what you did was better. Far better. The only problem is that now he’s obsessed with taking you away from me.”

  Is Daniel Glass possessive of me? My stomach flipped. “Taking me away from you?”

  “He’ll make you a big star. And you’ll be famous. And the rest of Hollywood will come crashing at your door. You won’t be bothered with doing theater anymore.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Your tits will be up there, larger than life, your ass, your mouth. This movie’s going to make you a sex symbol—are you ready for that?”

  Are you ready for it? I wanted to say, judging by his mini outburst. Was he jealous? “Daniel, the whole thing might be a huge flop. I know you think I’m selling my soul, but I won’t be. It might lead to other roles.”

  “Of course it’ll lead to other roles. More of the same. It pains me to see such talent thrown out the window.”

  “It’s a chance for me, which I may never get again. Anyway, I still haven’t told them yes.”

  He exhaled a breath of relief. “How much are they offering?”

  “I don’t know yet. I haven’t called Pearl Chevalier back.”

  “Strategizing, are we?”

  “Star told me to let them stew a while, that they’d offer more.”

  “And that they will, my girl, and that they will.”

  “Daniel, if this was such a crap project, why were you involved in the first place?”

  “Because they gave me the impression that I’d have artistic control. That’s how I got you through the door in the first place. I had plans to make a beautiful, artistic, and extremely sexy love story. Sometimes less is more. Suggestion is the key, not exploitation. But the next thing I knew, Sam Myers was bulldozing my ideas and vision. I’d forgotten how the Hollywood machine works. If things are controversial now, it’ll only get worse. I bowed out before things got ugly. The only problem is I didn’t expect them to snap you up like a bunch of greedy magpies. It was that damn kiss that did it!”

  This was my moment. I had nothing to lose. I had to ask him directly. “Daniel, did you enjoy that kiss?”

  He bit his lower lip. Picking up on my bad habits?

  “What do you think?” he said.

  “I saw the kind of physical reaction you got, so yes, I think you did secretly enjoy it.”

  “I fucking loved it, Janie,” he said, staring me hard in the eye. “But I’m not going to act on it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because . . . look . . . for several reasons.”

  “Your wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “I’m feeling very angry right now. I’m in no state to have a relationship, least of all with you.”

  I felt the dagger going in. It was bad enough in my dreams, but this? This was real. I knew about feeling angry; when my mom died that was my prime emotion. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. But Daniel talking to me as if I were the last person alive whom he’d consider
having a relationship with, hurt like hell.

  I got up. “I think I’d better leave,” I said, looking at the ground. “I’ve humiliated myself enough already.”

  “Humiliated yourself? Janie, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick!”

  “I know your wife was a fucking Amazonian goddess with beautiful big breasts and luscious blond hair and legs that went on forever and—”

  Daniel sprang from his sun lounger and grabbed me close to him, squeezing me against his hard frame, his arm encircling my waist. With his other hand he held me firmly by the back of my head, his fingers laced through my hair. I was trapped. His lips centimeters from mine.

  “Janie, you’ve got it all wrong; you have no idea what you mean to me, do you? No fucking idea at all.”

  And that’s when it happened. That kiss.

  I leaned into him, the echo of his words sending me into a sort of swoon. Our lips touched. It started as a soft tease, his tongue caressing my bottom lip, but then I opened my mouth, my tongue tentatively reaching out to his. He groaned, pressing his hardness against me as he licked into my mouth. He gripped my waist tighter as if afraid I’d slip away. His licks got faster, so sensual, so sexual that I could feel a gush of wetness gather hot between my legs. Then he took my lip between his teeth, nipping it, then sucking it into a deep kiss ‘til our tongues were tangled together in a frenzy. We became wild, fucking each other with our mouths. Tongues, lips, teeth, his hand still gripping the back of my head—his prisoner. Yet I, so, so willing.

  My body lost all strength of its own as I succumbed to Daniel completely. I could feel his erection, relentless, as his hand slid down from my waist and cupped my ass.

  “Oh God,” I moaned.

  Our lips feasted on one another, hot and wet. His groans were like an elixir, urging me to give into him more by the second, which I did. Daniel Glass was irresistible. His blue eyes seared into me. Sexually fierce. Commanding. Demanding.

  Fire.

  Ice.

  Death.

  Life.

  He terrified me with his intensity. I knew this could be the end of me, but I couldn’t let go. His kisses were a force of nature, his groans guttural, hungry, ferocious. As if he owned me.

  Well, he did. He did own me.

  I melted into him as if we were one being, saturated by his aura, the scent of him seeping into my every pore, weakening me, strengthening me. The flavor of his taste made me know in that instant that nobody could ever fill my senses with so much ecstasy as Daniel Glass. I let him suck on me, sucking out my shallow breaths as if they were my last. I could have died in that kiss and I wouldn’t have even been aware. He was the vampire, and I his food. I didn’t care.

  That’s how hopelessly lost I was with this man.

  I heard my cell go and had every intention to ignore it. But it jolted Daniel out of the moment like an intruding alarm bell. He drew his head back. I could still feel the solid ridge of his cock pressed up against me, and I knew what I was going to do next: lie back on that sun lounger and let him take all of me. Every single inch of my desperate, pleading body. I could feel another surge of wetness pooling between my thighs. I’d never felt so ready.

  “Janie,” he said. His eyes were smiling although his mouth didn’t tell the same tale. “I need to cool off.”

  What? He took his arm away from my waist, released my head, and before I could say a word, ripped off his T-shirt, kicked off his jeans, and dove into the pool.

  I grabbed my cell. Furious with it for interrupting me. It was Star.

  “Hey,” I said in a curt clip.

  “Janie, is he coming on to you by any chance?”

  “Maybe.” I watched Daniel as his streamline body cut through the water in a fast crawl.

  “You need to leave, babe.”

  “I don’t think I’m going anywhere right now.”

  “Okay, let me get straight to the point. You know I said you’d be sloppy seconds?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You’d be sloppy tenths,” she interrupted.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Daniel Glass is on a pussy rampage right now. Word has it—even in the last couple of days? He’s fucked like, three women.”

  “But that’s not his style,” I hissed into the line, “and he’s still mourning his wife!”

  “Open up your big brown Bambi eyes and listen to me. I have this from a seriously sound source. Daniel is majorly fucking around right now. His wife is dead, he’s hurting, and he’s on a roll. I do not want you to be another notch on his bedpost.”

  Jealousy seared me like a scalding iron. “Who? Who’s he fucked?”

  “Tall blond actresses and models. All Natasha Jürgen lookalikes. He gets to cherry pick. In Hollywood, being a director is akin to being a Greek god. Or a king. Even for the pockmarked ugly ones. But for someone as good looking as Daniel Glass, women—particularly wannabe starlets—wait in line. Around the block. Apparently he has a huge dick too, and they’re screaming for seconds, but he’s loving and leaving them and acting like a prize jerk. Janie, keep away from him until he gets this fuckathon out of his system.”

  My eyes strayed back to Daniel, who had just gotten out of the pool. His body was cut like the fine piece of Glass it was. His legs, strong and muscular, his ass tight and oh, just so right. It made me sick to think he was screwing around. Yet not with me! Daniel, a promiscuous player? It just didn’t suit his personality. But Star was right. I couldn’t risk it. Just one chastising look from him could send me into a post-mortem for days. Even weeks. If I had sex with him and then he ignored me afterward, it would destroy me. I had to stay strong, no matter how tempting he was.

  I eyed him up as he grabbed a towel, water dripping off him like shining crystals. Fuck, he was handsome. Beautiful. Men just weren’t made like him anymore. No, they looked too “done” these days, too pampered, like they’d made a ton of effort looking into a mirror and preening themselves—shoving products in their hair. Even shaving their chests and balls. So unmanly! So self-obsessed. Not Daniel—he was naturally good looking without having to try—pure one hundred percent tough, alpha male, every last inch of him, especially where it counted most. I wanted to explore him, immerse myself in him, but I knew how dangerous he was. At least, for me.

  He sauntered toward me, smiling, his straight white teeth the only part of him that looked wholly American. He’d once told me he was a mixture of Italian, Cherokee, Irish, Scottish, Polish, and English. He was mysterious, ruthless, kind, unrelenting, unusual, and most importantly, his mind worked like nobody I had ever known. He was a one-off, an anomaly, and boy, was I hooked. It wasn’t just his body, his beautiful face, and his intelligence that had me entranced—it was his soul. Even the darkest part of his soul.

  “Star, I’ve got to go,” I whispered into the phone.

  “I mean it, Janie. If anybody knows what directors are like, it’s me. Girls wet their panties over men like Daniel, and ninety-nine percent of single men cannot resist hungry, sexy big-titted starlets. Trust me. Keep. Away.”

  “I’ll be home soon,” I said, my eyes still roving over Daniel’s lithe body.

  “No, not home, meet me in a hour—you, Cindy, and I are doing lunch. I’ll text you the address of the restaurant. Bye, hon.”

  I pressed END.

  “Daniel, I’m off,” I told him in an easy voice, or at least I tried to make it seem that way. Actually, I probably sounded pretty shaky.

  He didn’t reply, just looked at me, his expression giving nothing away. He was in his swim trunks, dripping wet. I noticed his beautiful feet—even his toes were a fucking work of art.

  “I’m meeting Star’s agent,” I explained.

  “Cindy Spektor?”

  “Yes, how do you know?”

  “Because she wants to represent me. I met with her yesterday, as a matter of fact.”

  “Oh, cool. What’s she like?”

  “Tall, blond, imposing, and very deter
mined to get her way.” His mouth tilted into what I interpreted as a smirk.

  I could feel my lips tighten, my chin strike a haughty pose. One of his fucks, for sure! I already hated Cindy Spektor and I hadn’t even set eyes on her. I couldn’t contain the hostility in my tone. “And? Are you going to sign with her?”

  “Would it bother you if I did?” Obviously I wore my heart on my sleeve—he knew me too well, or at least, he could gauge my emotions.

  “Of course it wouldn’t bother me,” I lied. “Make whatever choices you see fit.” Again, my words as bitter as a triple espresso.

  “Well, I’m in no rush.” He took a step forward, a trace of a smile edging his lips. I needed to get away from him before he had me on my back, legs akimbo, begging for round two.

  “So what are your plans then, if you’re no longer doing the film?” I fired out, turning to go.

  “I’m going back to New York.”

  I made my way to the hallway as he followed me. Then I turned to face him and said, “By the way, does the movie even have a working title? And if you’re not directing it, who is?”

  “You’ll have to ask them. I’m out, I have no idea who they’ll approach next. As far as a working title is concerned they were brainstorming yesterday, after you left, and came up with The Dark Edge of Love. Janie, is something wrong? You seem agitated. Why are you rushing off so fast?”

  “I’m fine, just running late. Nice to see you, Daniel, see you around.”

  He grabbed me by the wrist. “See you around? What is this? Who was that on the phone? You seem . . . I don’t know . . . pissed off with me in some way, all of a sudden.”

  I held his gaze. “When you have this whole thing out of your system, give me a call.”

  “This . . . ‘thing?’ You’re referring to my wife’s death?”

  Boy, I sounded crass and unfeeling. “I mean all the side effects her death is causing,” I quickly amended. The fact you can’t keep it in your pants.

  “Janie, the situation is very different from how you imagine, trust me.” He drew me close to him again, his cool, wet hand sliding along my arm.