For some reason Ashton’s question floored me. I mean it knocked the wind I barely had out of my gut. And I had no idea how I would answer him. I knew that I would not be home. I knew there was no way that if Asanti was in New Orleans he would let me sleep anywhere other than with him.
So what would I say?
Rinnnggggg!
How would I answer that simple question?
“I don’t know, Ashton. If something smells funny or if I think I’m about to get a lead I’m going with it. Even if that means staying there and not coming home.” Then I opened my eyes. Looked at him. He looked pissed. And even though being pissed was a rarity for him, it seemed to be a prerequisite lately.
And that was all my fault.
Rinnnggggg!
“So are you telling me that my sick wife is about to leave her family again? After only seeing us for a little over twenty-four hours? And she’s about to do this knowing that her children haven’t spent more than twenty four hours with her in just under two months?” He stared at me hard as he stood and walked toward the bedroom door. “You’re really pushing it, London.”
Rinnnggggg!
Then he stepped out of the room.
“Ashton, I’m—“
He cut me off as if he didn’t give a damn what I was about to say, but turned to face me.
“I’ll take you to your new house as soon as you’re ready.”
Rinnnggggg!
“And you might want to answer that.”
Then he walked off.
Less than an hour later I was standing inside of a small and comfortable house. It was fully furnished and in a part of town that wasn’t rich, but was far from poor. It looked like where I should be living as a freelance writer with no husband and no kids. Like where a working person with a good income should be living. And the neighborhood was quintessential New Orleans.
It was perfect.
“Where did you find this?”
“It’s something my company owns and I rent it out on a seasonal basis,” he explained. “Mardi Gras season, the summer, Essence Festival weekend, Bayou Classic, things like that. People pay good money to stay in a house and not a hotel when they’re here.”
“Yeah,” I said as I looked around and acquainted myself with the place, “I guess they would want the full New Orleans experience and not the tourist’s experience.” Ashton said nothing, just handed me the key. “You know I’m really sorr—“
“The code for the alarm is written on the pad in the office which is fully equipped with everything you will need,” he spoke as if he didn’t want to hear me speak. “I’ve taken the liberty of bringing some of your clothes and filling the drawers and closet with them. I put a little food in the pantry and the fridge, but you’ll have to get more when you have time. I’ve even taken the liberty of doctoring a few records and ensuring that no traces of your family exist.” On that note I tried to speak and at least defend myself, but he left me no room to do so. “Other than that you have all of the essentials. Take your medicine and get some rest. I love you, London.” He grabbed my face and kissed me on the lips gently. “I’ll talk to you when you get home.”
Then just like that he was gone.
I felt like the biggest fool on earth.
Until the phone started ringing.
Again.
Rinnnnnggggg!
“Hello,” I answered in a weak, sickly voice. That was one time I wasn’t faking or lying.
“Baby, please tell me that you’re alright. Please.” That was all Asanti said.
“I’m better, at least I think I am.” That was sort of the truth. I was still feeling ill and the ride over to the house didn’t do me any good. But knowing what I was doing to those who loved me, to those I loved, was making me ill.
“Legaci, where the hell are you?” He rushed the question out as if he couldn’t speak it fast enough.
“I’m at home baby. I’m at the house like you wanted me to be and I’m in bed trying to rest.” Half truth, half lie. “Starting to feel sick again.” That was all truth.
Then suddenly my breathing was too deep. My heart was too fast. My body began to shake. I needed to lie down. The room was spinning again. I was sweating bricks. I guess I was sicker than I realized.
Intense lying could do that to a person.
“Legaci? Baby?” Asanti spoke slowly, calmly, cautiously, “Where is home?” I heard him take a deep breath to keep down the panic that was trying to fill him again. He had no idea where his wife was and yet he could hear her becoming ill again. He knew he needed to get to me fast, but there was nothing he could do if he couldn’t get that damn address out of me before I blacked out again. “I. Don’t. Know. Where. Home. Is.” He spoke slowly, patiently.
I heard the concern in his voice. Heard the fear. This was a man who wanted to take care of his sick wife and couldn’t because that wife was deliberately throwing stumbling blocks in his way. Deliberately keeping him at a disadvantage so she could always be one step ahead of the game she was playing with his life.
I felt like the devil for torturing him like that.
So I rattled off the address.
Finally.
Asanti could now come to my home.
My fake home.
And be with his wife.
His fake wife.
In the house that her real husband provided.
By the time the doorbell rang, no more than fifteen minutes had gone by. I had somehow managed to crawl my way to the bedroom, which I barely noticed, and lay down. I felt like a wreck. Frail. Fragile. Feeble. I really needed to focus on getting myself together so that I could take care of the mess that was my life. And that meant that I needed to get rest. Serious rest. So I determined to do it.
With as much strength as I could muster, I made my way down a long hall and to the door. Slowly, weakly I opened it. And when I did there stood my husband, the second one.
“Baby!” Asanti said as he scooped me up into his arms and hugged me tight. “Baby, are you alright?”
In that hug I could feel his love. Feel his raw emotion. The fear that something bad had happened to me when I wasn’t answering his calls. The thought of maybe living without me if something had actually happened. The gratitude in knowing that I was okay and safe in his arms. Finally. Then he sighed, and it seemed as if the weight of the world lifted off of his shoulder.
I was so ashamed for doing that to him.
“Barely,” I said as he held me tightly. Kissed my forehead. My lips. The he started to walk, but had no idea where to walk to. He stood in the living room for a second looking around and when he couldn’t find what he was looking for he spoke. “Where is the bedroom?”
“Through there,” I said as I pointed toward the hall just past the den.
In a heartbeat he had me back in the bed. But still he held me as if I would break if he released me. “Legaci Styles I am not letting you out of this bed for the next week. You’ll get better if it’s the last thing you do.” His voice was hoarse, choked with emotion.
He really did love me.
And I was going to hurt him.
Inside my head my Florida Evans voice spoke, “Damn! Daamnn! Daaaammmmn!”
A little more than a week later I woke feeling healthy and well rested. For the life of me I couldn’t remember the days that had gone by or what had taken place during them. I just knew that a considerable amount of time had passed. I looked around the room and was a little surprised to find myself in a strange place, and it took me a minute to remember where I was, who got me there, and who was there with me.
“Asanti?” I called out as I threw my feet over the edge of the bed. Slowly, cautiously, I stood. I was pleasantly surprised to find that nausea and vomiting weren’t hanging out waiting on me at that moment as they had been every day the weeks prior. “Asanti?” I called out again, but got no answer.
Deciding to take a walk through the house, I looked all around and realized that my husband was not there.
I was alone in the house that my husband, the first one, got for me. A house that I was sharing with my husband, the second one.
The thoughts came rushing back to me. The memory of how I got into that situation. Why I got into that situation. Why I wasn’t yet out of that situation. I felt the nausea creeping up on me again. I needed to calm down, control my thoughts and fears. Get my act together.
It was then that I decided to hit the shower. Maybe I could wash some of the worries and stress away.
As the steaming hot water poured down my body I sighed loudly and deeply. It felt so good on my skin. For the life of me I couldn’t remember the last time I had bathed or showered and I relished in the moment as I stuck my head under the spray and allowed myself to be soaked in the blissful heat.
My shoulders relaxed. My muscles relaxed. My mind relaxed. The hot water was washing away my sins. I sighed as I began to feel better, feel centered, feel grounded.
Then I felt his hands on me and instantly my core was wet.
“I missed you so much,” he whispered in my ear before he began to suck, nibble, bite on my neck. “I missed this so much,” he told me as he used his hand to reach around the front of my body and cup my silky core. My head fell back onto his chest, involuntarily my legs spread, and I moaned like a virgin when I felt his finger slip inside of me.
My entire body became weak as my muscles turned to liquid.
“Ooohhhhh,” I moaned when he slipped yet another finger inside.
“That’s right, baby,” he whispered in my ear as he moved his fingers in and out of me. “Relax and let go.”
My entire body shook from the pleasure he was exposing me to. My breathing hitched and soon I was panting like an animal. Then he grabbed me, picked me up and spun me to face him. Tears sprang to my eyes when he unzipped his now soaked pants to free his manhood and slowly, tortuously, filled me with the best part of him.
Instantly I went into Asanti mode.
I wrapped my arms and legs around him as he held me under the sizzling water, and still the hot water felt cool on my blazing skin. He lowered his head to my breasts and began a tender suckle that made my toes curl. I rocked my hips and held my head back as the water pounded my face and neck.
And Asanti moved slowly, tantalizingly slow as he filled me repeatedly.
Over and over.
Time and time again.
“Look at me Legaci,” he whispered roughly.
But I was lost in the feelings, the sensations, in Asanti.
“Look at me,” he said again, firmly.
Slowly I lifted my head until I was eye to eye with him. He was beautiful. Sexy. Sinful. Sizzling.
He thrust.
I bust.
Hard and good.
He chuckled sexily.
Then he suddenly gripped my hair, wrapped it around his hand once and yanked until my head was back enough that he was the only thing in my sights. He stared at me hard as he continued thrusting, pummeling, plowing, plunging.
All breath left me. My toes curled. I cried out in ecstasy.
“Don’t you ever leave me again,” he said harshly, roughly. He thrust again, firmly, owning me. “Don’t you ever disappear and make me worry about you again.” He slammed into me, filled me so deeply the tears came from nowhere. My body surrendered to him. I couldn’t say a word. “Do you understand?” He never removed his eyes from mine, never ceasing the sensual assault.
He thrust again.
Filled me.
I creamed.
“Answer me damnit!” He demanded. “Answer me now!”
Faster he plunged. Deeper he plunged. Harder he plunged. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Lost all sense of time and direction.
He plunged again.
Filling my mind and body with nothing but him.
I held on for dear life. My body began to shake. Asanti was too much for me. Too overwhelming. Too overpowering. Too overbearing. I was losing it, slipping into erotic bliss. I cried louder, harder. He thrust deeper, filled me completely.
“Answer me, Legaci!”
“Yeeeesssssssss!” I screamed as I came so hard I felt my bones slamming against one another. “God yes.. ye… y… eesssss!” I screamed again, stammered, stuttered.
“You’re my wife. My wife. My wife!” he practically chanted with each thrust as he pounded himself into me.
Silence.
Then his body seized up, jerked, and he filled me with the essence of him. All the while he never took his eyes off of mine, and he repeated one single word.
“Mine.”
I don’t remember going to sleep. I just remember waking up in bed and seeing that it was dark outside. Really dark. I shook my head and ran my hands through my hair, which was still damp, as I tried to figure out where the day went. Then I sat up in bed quickly as I remembered I hadn’t called my kids or talked to anyone in my household in days.
I knew they were worried sick so I reached for my phone, my personal phone, and dialed my home number.
Ashton answered on the first ring.
“You’re okay I see,” he said almost silently.
No hello, no how are you. Straight to the angry point.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call I was—” He cut me off like a road rage driver.
“It’s fine. It’s expected of such a busy woman.” His voice dripped with angry sarcasm.
I ignored it. Tried to make amends.
“I’m really sorry. I just…” I stopped talking and just held the phone.
I knew my apologies were falling on deaf ears, and rightfully so. I had been gone for a week and hadn’t said so much as hello to my husband or my kids. I was one person trying to live two lives and everything around me, in both lives, was falling apart. No way could I fault him for being angry when I was doing everything I could to make, and keep, him angry.
My husband, the first one, was slowly pulling away from me. Or was I pulling away from him? Pushing him away from me? I didn’t know, wasn’t sure. In fact the only thing I was sure of was that I needed to quickly get out of the situation I was in and put the crumbling pieces of my family back together.
I let out a really deep sigh.
“How are the kids?”
“They’re fine. Missing their mother. In bed now, which is where I need to be. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
And with those words he hung up in my face. No goodbye. No I miss you. No I love you. Just a firm click of the line and we were disconnected in more ways than just by the phone. I choked back a sob, did all I could to keep the tears at bay.
That was when Asanti spoke.
“Who was that?”
Oh my goodness!
The sound of his deep voice filling the darkness scared the hell out of me. I thought I was alone in the room. Alone when I called my husband, the first one. But when my eyes focused, when I was no longer blinded by the darkness, I realized that my husband, the other one, was sitting in the chair beside the bed watching me. Not even three feet away from me.
And he had heard my entire phone conversation.
Both my end and Ashton’s.
How the hell was I going to explain that?
“That was my boss,” that lie came from out of the blue.
“Why would you be calling your boss this time of night?” The coldness in his voice shook me and chilled me down to the bone.
“First, because I have no idea what time it is. I just woke up and realized that I needed to call. Second, because I haven’t called him in a week. I’ve either been asleep or too doped up to do any work or even call in to work and let everyone know that I’m alive and okay.”
My breathing hitched and my nerves started to fry as I hoped beyond hope that Asanti would believe me when I wasn’t sure if I would believe me under the same circumstances.
“And asking about his kids?” I could hear the anger in his voice. The barely controlled anger that was hidden just below the surface, waiting to be unleashed. “That sounded pers
onal, Legaci. Very personal.”
“It was personal, Asanti,” I said as I tried to summon up anger and indignation at his display of distrust. But truthfully I was scared to death. And fully in agreement with him not trusting me since I was lying to everyone including myself. Still I went on with my lies. “Their mother, my boss’ wife, recently passed away and the kids are going through a very trying time right now. I’m, we’re all, concerned about that family,” I quickly corrected to make it seem like everyone at the job was concerned, not just me. I was trying to depersonalize a very personal situation.
Please believe me, please believe me, please believe me, I chanted in my mind. But Asanti was silent. So silent that I began to tremble. I just knew he was on to me. Knew he was going to kill me. But I didn’t want to die yet. Not yet. I still had my whole life to live. A life that was driving me crazy because I was trying to make two lives out of the one I was given. I needed to stop the madness. Asanti had to go.
“Baby, I’ve known that man, his wife and their kids for years. It was just concern. That’s all.” At least I told a partial truth there.
He said nothing.
For a long time.
Then, “I’m very jealous, Legaci. I’m possessive and territorial and I don’t want my wife getting too close to another man.”
“Asanti, it’s just my boss,” I told him as my lungs practically collapsed at his words. Jealous. Possessive. Territorial. What the hell? What would he do if he found out about my family? How would he handle knowing that not only am I married with children, but that he is the other man? Would he harm them? Would he harm me? Was he really as dangerous he sounded at that moment? “Just my boss,” I reiterated.
“I’m sure that’s all it is, sweetheart” he said calmly, so calmly that I had never been more terrified in my life. “Just make sure he remains your boss. Only.”
He sounded treacherous in that darkness. Was scaring the hell out of me in that darkness. What had I gotten myself into? Was he a psycho on the slick?
“Why? Are you going to kill any man that has a passing interest in me?” I said jokingly.
But I was serious.
The hand that gripped my knee and squeezed was like steel. I could feel the intensity flowing through him from just that touch. “Of course I’d kill them, my darling. You’re mine,” he said so matter of factly that I strained my eyes to see his face through the blinding black.
Lying Lips Page 14