Masterful 3 (An Erotic Dark Romance)

by Jesse Joren

  You're too busy stroking memories of Hex to leave. Not to mention living it up.

  That gave me a stab of guilt. It wasn't just this place. It was other things, like the sporty little Porsche Cayenne left downstairs in my name. It was the bank account that I hadn't touched, but with more zeros to the left of the decimal than I'd ever seen in real life.

  The bathtub alone was hard to leave, not the mention the view and having so much space. A few more soaks in honeysuckle bath oil would help me decide what to do, and how to leave this all behind.

  Right.

  When I exited on the twenty-second floor, the hallway was quiet and dreamy on this cloudy afternoon. My place was down at the end, and when I opened the door, the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room showed a gray landscape threatening more rain.

  "Roxy?" I called, dropping my keys and purse on the kitchen counter.

  A sleepy meow sounded above me. Her plump little calico face peered at me from the top of the refrigerator. She always went right for the highest perch.

  "Good idea. Maybe I'll take a nap too."

  Instead I drifted over to the windows. I pressed my forehead against the glass and squeezed my eyes shut.

  It wasn't an accident that I was staying very busy. My new job as a business analyst at the law firm of St. Clair and Associates was a headlong dive into a career change from being the receptionist. Certain people at the firm were making it plain that they thought I should still be in the kiddie section.

  I was also auditing every course that I had supposedly already completed for a master's degree at Georgia Tech. I could still hear the you've-got-to-be-kidding-me tone of the registrar when I made the request.

  "Ms. Bright, you took these courses as part of your degree. It would be a waste of your time and money to audit it. Your grades clearly show you understood the material, so I don't see why…"

  Finally he gave in to my wishes, his expression suggesting that I was insane, stupid, or both. He would have to think what he liked, since I couldn't explain my reasons.

  Having this degree delivered on a silver platter left me feeling like a fraud. It wasn't that Hex had lied. I knew the material because his stern tutoring during my captivity had placed me far ahead in class.

  I was going to make the gesture just the same. It cleared my conscience and helped me stay busy.

  Quiet times like this were the absolute worst: a Sunday afternoon, no work and no classes, silence weighing on me. That was when the pain of losing him was worst, a scalding wound inside of me.

  For two years we'd connected every day online, sharing our most intimate fantasies. For five months he'd held me prisoner, but my fascination with him had held me as much as any locks on the windows and doors.

  Hex had saved me by giving me back my life and making me better than I had ever been, physically and mentally. He set my body on fire and surrounded me with a breathless kind of love before he slipped away.

  Even though this morning's coffee shop showdown said otherwise, I wasn't stupid. I knew why Hex left: he thought that by making me love him in captivity, he hadn't given me any choice. In his mind, he was now giving me a chance to "play the field" and see if what I felt for him was real.

  I already knew that answer. Hex, on the other hand, thought that I was too bedazzled – or too fucked in the head – to know what I wanted. How was I supposed to fix a problem like that?

  My breath had fogged the window. I let my fingers trace his name on the glass, stroking it away in cold little droplets.

  "Hex," I murmured.

  A furious voice spoke almost right behind me. "Are you insane? Do you have any goddamn idea how dangerous that was, Eva?"

  My heart jumped into my mouth as I whirled around.

  Hex was standing in the middle of the living room, exuding the raw intensity that haunted me awake or asleep. For a moment I was sure that he was a hallucination.

  But weren't figments of the imagination supposed to be comforting? If so, this one was breaking all the rules. He wasn't looking at me with amusement, or love, or desire.

  Instead he was glaring, more pissed than I'd ever seen him.

  Chapter Four

  His brown hoodie was thrown back to show his dark-honey ponytail and slanting gray eyes. His jeans molded to him in a way that made my knees go limp, but his hands were jammed into his pockets as if resisting the urge to shake me.

  For a moment his sheer presence overwhelmed me. The memories I'd been using to comfort myself stuttered to silence as I drank in the real Hex in all his dangerous, sexy glory.

  He took a step closer. "Answer me, damnit."

  Anger rushed to my rescue, stiffening my spine. He had abandoned me. Whatever his reasons, the hurt of the last month was a bitter ache, too raw to forget so easily.

  "What happened to freedom?" I asked. "Was that another big fat lie? What are you doing, following me around Atlanta?"

  "No, I just watch the news. A reckless girl in leather, six blocks from the Ritz? Who else would it be? Nice coat, by the way."

  "It's not mine," I said, suppressing a tingle of guilt. "I had to get out of there without ending up on the news."

  He sat down in a huge leather armchair that I liked, fixing me in his gaze. How well I remembered this stillness. Complete control was his trademark, but agitation lurked under that calm surface, scorching me from across the room.

  "Tell me what happened," he ordered.

  I made my voice haughty, giving him the basics in the fewest words possible. No need to incriminate myself any more than absolutely necessary.

  Around the part of the story where Peter was crawfishing in the floor, Roxy trotted in and greeted Hex with a happy meow. She took his glance as an invitation, jumping into his lap like the little traitor she was.

  His hand was gentle on her fur, in spite of the disgust accumulating in his expression.

  "Jesus Christ," he said as I finished. "You had no idea how he would react. Then you run off with some other guy you never saw before? He could have taken you to fuck knows where and –"

  "He didn't take me to fuck knows where," I interrupted. "He got me away from the reporters and brought me back here."

  "So now a complete stranger knows where you live, and that you live alone. I see your point. Why is that any reason to worry?"

  His words made me want to crawl into a hole. He had no right to treat me like a fool.

  Be mad at him for a lot of things, but not when he's right. Fool.

  His familiar gaze seemed to melt my outrageous clothes right from my body.

  "So this hero drove you home, gifted you with his expensive coat, then rode off into the sunset? I guess hostage stand-offs make strange bedfellows."

  The obvious double meaning pissed me off even more. Did he really think I'd sleep with a stranger, just like that? Didn't he know me at all?

  He knows. That's the green-eyed monster growling.

  Jealousy wasn't really Hex's style. Overprotective and arrogant, absolutely. Not to mention an utter lack of respect for rules or privacy.

  "He helped get me out of there when the cops didn't," I pointed out. "What was I supposed to do? End up all over the news? Every freak in town would be at my door."

  "You're right. It was impossible for you to call your best friend, or a co-worker, or a taxi. A stranger was your only option."

  "Well, I sure couldn't call you." Even to my own ears, I sounded like a snippy bitch.

  Good.

  "Besides, he doesn't know I live here," I added, trying to guild myself with a faint halo of common sense.

  "Did he ask you out?" Hex asked, his mouth set in a grim line.

  "N-no," I stammered, but it felt almost like a lie. I knew that given an inch of encouragement from me, Del might not have driven off into the afternoon.

  "Then he's an idiot, but that's better than dangerous. Maybe you got lucky."

  "That would be a first. One stranger has already done a number on me this year."

/>   That sexy, well-remembered rumble of laughter deep in his chest only made me more angry. You couldn't even insult him.

  "By the way," I pressed on, "I'm moving out as soon as I find a safe place. Keep your guilt offering. You still come and go as you please anyway. Don't you ever just knock?"

  "Really. So you'd have just let me in if I asked?"

  A fantasy had been filling my mind lately, one with many pleasant variations. All of them starred Hex, banging on the closed door and begging for another chance. Sometimes he was on his knees, sometimes sobbing. All of them ended with me laughing and refusing to take him back.

  Ah yes, the Groveling Special. Not that you'll be serving him any. You can't stop staring, much less throw him out.

  My mouth was still open to protest. I closed it with a snap.

  "That's what I thought," Hex said. "You get points for having the locks changed, but I get in wherever I want."

  Something about the way he said that made my knees go weak. Probably that was exactly what he intended. I narrowed my eyes into mean slits.

  "Here's some advice," I said. "Don't plan on 'getting in' anywhere with me ever again."

  Hex rubbed Roxy as if he had all day. Only her faint purr and the faraway sounds of Atlanta traffic tinged the electric silence.

  "Why haven't you been out with anyone yet?" he asked. "It's not for lack of offers."

  Once again, he'd come out of left field with something unexpected. And once again, he was right.

  Before Hex had kidnapped me, doors were allowed to shut right in my face. Servers screwed up my orders or never returned to refill my drinks. In that world, I smiled at passing guys who looked past me to wink at the girl behind me.

  It didn't feel like malice, just a million tiny confirmations that I was invisible. Sometimes it was comforting, but other times when I really thought about it, it bothered me a lot.

  Since returning from what everyone thought was an extended job assignment in Miami, the difference in how I was treated was startling. Guys quickened their steps to open doors for me. Elevators were held for ridiculously long amounts of time. Construction workers yelled barnyard suggestions when I passed.

  Instead of emailing me, male co-workers now visited my office and lingered to chat. Several times, it seemed they were leading up to after-work plans. I found reasons to cut those conversations short.

  Was this how it was for most girls, and I was just now catching up? Flattering or not, it made me uneasy. They were impressed with the new Eva, sporting her designer wardrobe in single-digit sizes.

  Like the infamous naked emperor, I was a fraud.

  "Well?" Hex's voice prodded into my thoughts.

  "I've had a lot going on."

  He leaned back in the chair, some of the tension leaving him.

  "Take off the coat," he said. "Show me this vixen who's all over the news."

  He doesn’t tell you when to dress and undress. Don't you dare unbutton that coat. Are you listening to me?

  Fine. Let him see what he wouldn't have again.

  With one slow movement, I shrugged Del's coat into the floor. My black leather outfit had seemed daring when I put it on this morning, tough and confident. I didn't feel that way now.

  "Sexy as hell, but not exactly your style," he said. "Out of everything you have, why did you pick that? It's not you."

  "This is the new me," I said, pulling myself up as tall as possible. "I'm changing the rules. And if you didn't think it was me, why did you put it in the closet?"

  A faint smile curled his lips.

  "I had something else in mind for those boots besides exciting criminals," he said, "but if you want to dress up early for Halloween, be my guest."

  "I don't need you telling me what to wear, and I can take care of myself," I said. "So why don't you get the hell out, since you keep saying this place is mine?"

  A real grin appeared as he stood up, ushering Roxy into the floor with a final stroke. His eyes warmed to that molten silver that still haunted my dreams. Neither of us moved.

  Sudden, ridiculous tears made the room blur around the edges of my vision. I forced them back with a few hard blinks.

  What was wrong with me? He was leaving. Wasn't that a good thing? A victory for the new and improved Eva?

  I love you. Please don't leave me again.

  Those words had to remain unsaid at all costs. My teeth bit into the inside of my cheek until I tasted faint, coppery blood.

  "You don't fool me, tough girl," Hex said, "no matter what disguise you use. Hiding has always been your specialty, Eva."

  He went to the door, pausing in the foyer. My eyes couldn't stay away from his lips. Had they really been all over me? The time at Walden, the cabin in the woods, the steamy night in this very penthouse – it was all starting to feel like a dream.

  "By the way, nice move by your new friend to erase those pictures," he said. "The trouble is that everything lives on the cloud now, ready to be downloaded again."

  How could Del and I have both missed that? I felt like a world-class idiot.

  "They're gone," Hex said, "and the asshole who took them has a few thousand dollars in data overage charges on his bill. Just to give him something to think about."

  No need to ask how he knew about the pictures, or how he had gotten into a supposedly secure network to delete them and then fake charges. Some things never changed.

  Neither had my feelings. Everything had been so much easier online, or even when we were alone at Walden. Hex had been right: nothing was the same after fantasy and real life collided.

  "I'll make sure to lock the door behind me," he said.

  For a raw moment we stood looking at each other across the large room. Then he opened the door and was gone, closing it without a sound behind him.

  Part of me wanted to run to the door and throw it open, calling for him to come back. Instead I went to the chair and sat down. The leather was warm from his body, his scent caressing me.

  Roxy made low, unhappy noises in her throat as she curled around my legs. She sounded as if everything good had just walked out of her life. I knew exactly how she felt.

  What a bloody mess.

  It was a good thing that Wade and his phone camera weren't around to catch any more unscripted moments. Lady in Leather or not, I was a total hot mess when I cried.

  Chapter Five

  "So tell me something," Natalie said. "What do you know about this leather girl on the news?"

  We were tucked into a small corner table at Souper Jenny over bowls of butternut squash soup. Our cell phones were off, per restaurant rules. Yesterday's clouds had fulfilled their gray promise and dissolved into a soggy Monday.

  "What do you mean?" I asked, picking at a piece of toasted ciabatta. Jenny's was one of my favorite places, but today nothing had any taste.

  Natalie was the youngest attorney at St. Clair and Associates, but she was also the sharpest. God help the opposing counsel once she started trying cases in court. If her fast track was any indication, that day wasn't far off.

  "That's what I thought," she said around the rim of her cappuccino. "What happened? This ought to be good."

  "It's too long of a story for lunch," I said, "and not much to tell."

  "That's a first," she said with a smirk. "A story that's too long to tell because it says nothing."

  The look she gave me brought an instant wave of guilt. I was holding out on my best friend, and we both knew it.

  On the morning I woke up to find Hex gone, Natalie had been my rock. She'd comforted my alternate bouts of weeping and silence, supportive and solid. She didn't ask for details, and I was too upset to offer any.

  It wasn't about trust because I trusted her with my life. My secret life had just become so complicated that I didn't know how to unravel it, even with Natalie.

  "I'm coming over tonight," she announced, "and we're going to talk. Something happened in Miami, if that's where you really were. Whatever it is, it's eating you alive.
"

  "I'm not good company right now."

  "No shit. Seven o'clock. Don't even think about locking me out."

  "It will be fun," I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  Natalie snorted. "Right."

  "I'm okay." I grabbed our checks and signaled our server. He sauntered over and gave me a hundred-watt grin.

  "Everything okay?" he asked.

  "It was great, thanks. We're ready for the check."

  "Can I get you anything else? A free dessert? An iced tea to go?"

  "I'm good, but thank you," I said, putting my card in the folder. He dropped me a wink as he left.

  Natalie smirked again.

  "What?" I asked.

  "He's going to give you his phone number."

  "Nah, he's only angling for a tip."

  "I bet you our next lunch. By the way," she went on, "I did some checking on Mr. Squeaky-Clean Stephen D'Amitri."

  Hearing that name on her lips made me pause. Stephen D'Amitri was the alias Hex had given my employer when he supposedly hired me for a special project.

  "You did?"

  "C'mon, you knew I would."

  My heart began to thump. "And?"

  "He was as pure as the driven snow. That tells me he has a lot of secrets. Everybody has dirt under their digital fingernails."

  Our server returned and put the check down in front of me.

  "Thanks, Eva. Hey, you doing anything Friday night? Maybe we could hang out together, hit the club, just chill, whatever."

  It might have been funny if I wasn't feeling so blue. He seemed like a nice guy, but…

  "I, uh, my fiancé and I are going to be busy," I blurted, dipping my head and pretending to study the check.

  A phone number was scribbled next to his name, along with a huge smiley face,

  "Thanks, Connor," I said, signing in a hurry.

  "No, thank you," he said, glancing at my hand. "Tell that fiancé of yours to put a ring on it so guys like me stay away."

  He walked off grinning. Two girls at a nearby table stopped talking and watched him with obvious approval.

  "You're horrible at this," Natalie said, "and you owe me lunch."