by Karen Ferry
But here, there are no frozen stares or upturned noses.
No raised voices, or even an occasional slap on the cheek.
No crying filled with heartache because I have chosen a lifestyle that is ‘abnormal’.
How strange that we live in a modern world, yet parts of it, especially my home, consider me a deviant. But New York doesn’t, and as I sit here, pondering where I go from here, I wonder if I should just remain in this city. If I should try to apply for a proper work visa, and try to make a living as an interior designer. It will probably take me years to get to that point, though, and I’m an impatient person in some ways. I don’t mind working hard towards my dreams, but for one thing, New York isn’t cheap; and for another, it’s all about connections here – who you know. And apart from Morgan and Safiro, I don’t really know anyone who could help me get started.
Plus, there’s Emma and Daniel to consider as well. I don’t think I can bear to be away from Emma, in particular, for months at a time. And then there is the fact that I’d be away from my other friends in Denmark, as well as the importance of finding my own apartment, get a proper job, and – oh, hell.
Groaning, I slouch in my seat and the amount of work ahead of me seems too overwhelming right now. Going home might be the easiest choice for me, after all. But the people that I once called my family make me sick – they encompass everything I loathe, and I only hope that I have the strength to keep away from them if or when I return home.
A change is needed, but what am I to do if I can’t find the courage to grasp onto my chance once I meet it? As usual, I don’t have the answer. If Fate were kind, she’d have given it to me a long time ago.
But Fate is not known for being kind or fair. She is fickle, harsh, even cruel sometimes. I want to keep hoping for my happily-ever-after to find me, but I am losing my faith.
Maybe there isn’t such a thing as true love.
Maybe there is only darkness instead of light in this world.
No, that can’t be true. Emma fought her way out of the darkness that was slowly suffocating her. She found Daniel. She found love.
So can I.
I noticed that Mama Rosa’s was quiet tonight as soon as I arrived earlier, and it concerns me slightly. My worries were sort of put to rest when I met my staff, though; and while I thought that my absence the past couple of months wouldn’t matter to most of my customers, it would appear that I was wrong. While I appreciate that my patrons want me to leave my kitchen and tell me about where I’ve been – something I won’t do – I don’t have time to chit chat when my staff needs me to take direction again now that I’m back.
My sous chef, Carlos, has been doing a pretty decent job while I was in rehab, but he isn’t cut out for the business side of things, and I need to get my head back in the game and get to the bottom of what’s been going on while I was away.
When I arrived this evening, I had a meeting with the staff, trying to catch up on things. I can’t have them think that I’m the same mess I was before I left for rehab; I have to convince them that I’m done with that part of my life, that I actually mean it this time, before I lose them to a competitor.
Carlos stays back after I dismiss everyone to go set up their stations, and it feels great to catch up with my old friend for the first couple of minutes. Until I start opening up to him.
“There’s a young woman living with me,” I blurt. He blinks a few times.
Guess he never saw that one coming.
He’s standing across from my desk, and I grimace and turn the chair this way and that, anxious. “Remember Colin placed an ad about my place when I went to San Francisco?” He nods. “I don’t know how I could forget about my home being rented out to someone,” I grumble.
“Uh, yeah, that does seem weird. I wonder how that’s going to work out,” he muses, smirking at me.
This guy knows me too well.
“Nothing. Is. Going. To. Happen,” I bite, clenching my fists. The tension coursing through my veins freezes me to the spot, and even Carlos must be sensing it if the gleam in his eyes is anything to go by. The bastard has the audacity to laugh at me like a loon.
“You, living with a woman without trying to dip your dick inside her? Yeah, like that won’t happen,” he snickers at me, causing me to concentrate hard on not punching his face.
“She has a girlfriend,” I lie to stop him from laughing. He only shakes his head, his shoulders shaking.
“Oh, I see. Is she beautiful?”
At once, Suzy’s big, grey eyes and gorgeous figure transform in my mind, and my frown deepens.
“Yes. Very. But that’s beside the point. Didn’t you just hear what I said?” Without letting him answer, I go on, “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. She’s far too young for me.”
He lifts an eyebrow at me. “How young is she?”
“Twenty-four,” I clip. My conscience balks at the offensive number.
“So what? One, she could swing both ways, and two, a difference in age might be good for you. You’re fucked if she’s only into girls, though.” He shrugs, seemingly not caring in the least about what I’ve just said.
“Don’t you have food to prep?” I ask, trying to get him to leave me alone. I’ve had enough of this.
“Sure, in a minute. But let me get something straight…” He puts his hands on my desk and leans closer to peer into my eyes. I narrow my own, refusing to back down.
“If she didn’t have a girlfriend, would you then go after her?”
I don’t care to answer, because of the lie I just told him, but somehow, my mouth opens and I whisper, “Yes.”
Carlos’ surprised gaze meets mine, and my breath leaves my lungs on a loud whoosh. I inhale deeply, feeling as if I’ve just run a marathon. He leans back and walks away. When he reaches the door, he turns back to me.
“I’ve never known you to back down from anything, Garrett. Not even when you were at rock bottom did you give up entirely. It’s time to stop hiding, my friend. It’s time for you to cease living your life in the shadows.”
With that, he opens the door and leaves me alone with my thoughts.
He’s wrong, though. The light is not meant for me. I prefer my darkness.
I’m determined to keep away from Suzy, to keep my darkness away from her light – untainted that she is.
Food is my life. Preparing and cooking my grandmother Rosa’s old recipes, adding my own flourish to them, are the only things that have kept me sane all these years. I revel in the different scents that fill my nostrils as I cook; the flavours creating fireworks on my palette when I take the first bite; and the way food can be both a comfort, as well as an outlet.
Great food makes me come close to happiness…but I also know that food can be the enemy for many people in this day and age. I guess we all have a vice, but this is not mine. As I stand here in the kitchen, overseeing my staff, a semblance of peace finally falls upon me.
Cooking was my first love, and it will also be my last.
This aspect of my life will always bring me some amount of joy, I’m certain of it.
LIVING WITH GARRETT THE past week has been surprisingly easy – probably because he’s almost never home.
That man must be a machine. Either he’s asleep when I wake up, and I try to make as little noise as possible, only to find him gone when I come out of the shower; or he’s not there when I open my eyes to a new day, the pull-out couch looking pristine and neat like it did the day before. I get a text message from him every day, though, letting me know if he needs me to take care of Rufus for him or not. No pleasantries…no ‘Hello, I hope you have a great day’. To tell the truth, it feels weird, as if he’s avoiding me somehow. It’s also pretty damn rude, and I don’t like it.
Rufus doesn’t, either, and I’m determined to talk to Garrett about it today. It’s Monday, and I know that his restaurant is closed; I didn’t ask him, but checked out the website the other day. I’ve set my alarm to wake me up super early to cat
ch him before he leaves to do God only knows what.
The only thing that seems to have changed since he got back is my eating habits, because there’s always plenty of food in the fridge now; one of the first texts from Garrett was him practically ordering me to help myself to his delicious dishes. While it did not sit well with me at first, I can’t resist them.
He’s seducing me with food, and he doesn’t even know it.
I used to love food, to take pleasure in the scents and the tastes, but it’s been a long time since I’ve given it the attention it deserves. I’m relieved that my loss of appetite has vanished, as it’s been worrying me a bit. Now, though, my clothes fit better, and I kind of love the couple of pounds I’ve gained that seem to have taken up residence on my booty and boobs.
The late nights working at The Vault are catching up with me. While I still don’t feel entirely comfortable wearing my uniform, I don’t feel as unsettled as I did in the beginning. I have to admit that I’m kind of fascinated by what I witness there – though I swear I’ll never understand how some people are able to kneel before someone else, giving up their free will entirely – and most of the patrons have been nothing but civil. The other staff members have been very friendly towards me, and now that my financial situation has become more stable, I’m somewhat happier.
Except not this particular morning when the alarm wakes me up two hours earlier than usual.
I’m so not a morning person, but I’m determined to tell Garrett a thing or two about me. While I don’t mind dog-sitting occasionally, this weird atmosphere has to stop.
Yawning, I hit the off button on my phone. Before I get tempted to roll over and sleep for a few hours longer, I kick my blankets off and nudge Rufus, whose favourite bed seems to be my own, and I get up. My eyes are still gritty with sleep as I put on my robe and walk slowly towards the couch. As I stop in front of it, I look down at Garrett’s sleeping form. He’s only wearing his boxers, one arm behind his head, his long hair fanned out on the armrest. As my sleep-befuddled brain slowly wakes up, I peruse his body without shame.
The first thing I notice about him is the date that’s tattooed just above his heart:
05.10.2000
What does it mean?
The angry, fire-spewing dragon tattoo covering his shoulder and down the length of his right arm is breath-taking, but it’s a cruel kind of beauty; the scales are a mixture of black, turquoise, and green. The dangerous glint in its brown eyes almost makes me want to divert my own, to bow down to its dominance.
How silly.
A small smattering of golden hair covers his chest, trailing down his abs, and I gasp when I take in how fit Garrett actually is. He’s not bulky, as I first thought, but definitely not lean, either. My eyes fall on his abs, and I lick my lips, almost salivating at the V at his hips.
Yum. Delicious.
I widen my eyes in shock when I see a small, golden tattoo of a dragonfly on the inside of his left arm; the design is similar to the one I have on my hip bone, only mine is red. I wonder about its significance.
Then my gaze falls on his lips, and I place a hand on my racing heart. Blinking, I shake my head, completely taken aback by my thoughts, because they are definitely not welcome this morning. I’ve been doing a great job at keeping my strange crush on him at bay this week, but now, as I stand here, getting rather turned on by the sight of my hunk of a roommate, it hits me full force. I breathe deeply and sit down on the coffee table behind me. If I don’t, I think my trembling body will betray me; that I’ll reach out to him and touch him, waking him up as I do. That would be awkward.
Taking one long breath after the other, I can’t keep my eyes from lingering on the bulge in his boxers, and I feel a flush spread in my cheeks.
Dangerous. That’s what this is.
“Keep looking at me like that, babe, and you’ll have to face the consequences.”
My eyes fly to Garrett’s, who, unbeknownst to me, has become wide awake. His rumbled voice, while low, has no less of an effect on me as when we last spoke, and I lick my lips.
“What consequences?” I whisper, throat parched.
“You don’t want to know,” he grumbles. Slowly, he sits up until he’s across from me, leaning into my space.
“Try me,” I persist, narrowing my eyes at him.
He frowns, and my heart beats madly as his face draws ever nearer until his mouth is only a hairs breath away from my own. His eyes are so dark, so cold, but his breathing is as laboured as mine. It gives me a sick sense of satisfaction to see that he’s just as affected as I am.
“Alright,” he whispers. “If you keep it up, I’ll tear your clothes off, place you on the couch, and eat out your pussy until you scream my name before slamming my cock inside you. All the while I’ll restrain your hands so you can’t touch me.”
Ho-ly. Shit!
I open my mouth, but no sound leaves me. I can only remain staring into his eyes, mesmerised by the intense determination I find there.
He isn’t finished. “And when I’ve done spilling my seed inside you, I’ll leave you alone. No cuddles. No endearments will fall from my lips. Is that clear enough for you?”
He puts a hand on my neck, his thumb caressing my bottom lip, and the gesture belies his words. A man who can touch me so softly like this can’t be all hard and cold. I don’t believe it.
I grit my teeth as I try to ignore his finger on my lips. “What makes you think I can’t handle that?”
He chuckles darkly. “Trust me, babe. You’re too sweet for the likes of me.”
I raise my chin at him. “Try me; I might surprise you.”
“Not gonna happen,” he backtracks and starts to lean away from me, but I grab onto his wrist to stop him, digging my nails into his skin.
“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep,” I snap. His eyes widen slightly in surprise. “I’m not a fragile little thing from a book or a movie. I make my own decisions. If or when I decide I want you, I’ll make sure you know it. But today –” I pause and move closer to his face. “Today is not that day.”
With that, I release the hold I have on his arm and stand up to leave him.
Feeling the burn of his gaze on my back as I walk away from him, I pray that he can’t see my body shaking like a leaf.
I shut the door to the bathroom as quietly as possible and lock it behind me before turning to the mirror above the sink, taking in my flushed cheeks. It’s not until this very moment that I realise that I have been holding my breath since walking away from him, and I rest my hands on the sink as I let it out on a loud whoosh.
Gulping in air, I acknowledge the shakes grabbing hold on my body. I pray to all the powers that be that Garrett will be gone when I leave the safety of the room.
I was wrong if I thought I could handle a man like him.
Dead wrong.
I vow to keep my distance from Garrett as much as possible from now on.
Seething, I ball my hands into fists and I breathe deeply several times as I try to talk myself out of walking after Suzy.
Counting to ten doesn’t help.
Neither does repeating her age in my head over and over again.
Nothing helps.
The wolf has had enough of avoiding this waif-like creature who, unwittingly, has fallen into my life at a time when I need something more than the occasional fuck.
I crave something else – someone else.
Someone who will submit to me completely.
I don’t know if Suzy is that certain someone, but I’m tired of waiting for my conscience to win over my desires.
It never does.
Like a flash, I stand from the couch and stalk to the bathroom door. I hear the soft padding of Rufus’s paws behind me and slow down, only to turn and point at the couch.
“Stay,” I grumble. If I weren’t so worked up already, I’d chuckle at the crestfallen gaze he gives me before turning around to do as I say. He jumps up on my temporary bed and lies down
on a heavy sigh.
“Good boy,” I mumble, and then walk away.
I stop in front of the door and grip the handle, pushing slightly.
Locked. Smart girl.
Shaking my head at my loss of control, I close my eyes and lower my head to rest it on the door in front of me. I can hear the shower running, and – is she singing? The sound is off-key like hell, but hearing Suzy like this, knowing that she is comfortable in her own skin as she belts out the lyrics of “It’s Raining Men” makes me feel less like the fool I’ve been the past week and more like a man.
A fool pines for his desires but hesitates to go after them.
A man doesn’t. He grasps onto them with both hands.
I’m no longer a fool.
I open my eyes and lift my head as I hear the shower go off. I knock lightly on the door, not backing down, and after having waited a few minutes, I clear my throat.
“Come out, waif. We need to talk.”
I grit my teeth as she makes me wait even longer.
Stubborn. How cute.
“If you don’t come out in the next ten seconds, I’ll break down the goddamn door,” I growl. “I mean it, Suzy.”
When I hear her turn the lock, I brace myself.
There is no turning back now.
She opens the door and my breath hitches when I find her in nothing but a towel. Her wet hair stands up in tufts, her shoulders are bathed in a soft, rosy glow, and the small drops of water clinging to her collarbone make my mouth water. I want a taste. Badly.
“We don’t have anything to talk about, Garrett,” she hisses at me. My eyes meet hers. They’re spitting mad, but the fire in them only spurs me on.
“Oh, but we do,” I whisper. I take a step closer towards her, and I smirk when her eyes widen in surprise. “You see, I’m tired of staying away from you. Fucking exhausted of keeping my hands off you. This past week…”