by Maya DeLeina
“Not many,” Vaughn said, confirming Ryan’s assessment.
“I can’t get this living anywhere else but here. I want recognition. I want status. I want Ambrose Heights.”
“Well-crafted response, well crafted,” said Vaughn as he nodded. He started the engine and maneuvered the cart leisurely along the cobblestone street.
“So, why is the owner entertaining my proposal?” Ryan asked, his gaze fixated on the homes.
“For the right price, anything is negotiable.” Vaughn slowed the cart to a stop and turned to Ryan. “And, for the right individual, Ambrose Heights is negotiable, too.”
Vaughn’s last line echoed in Ryan’s head as a smile slowly materialized.
For the first time, becoming a resident of Ambrose Heights felt promising.
Ryan slid back in his seat and absorbed his surroundings. He remained silent as Vaughn steered his way back to the gated entrance.
Every visit to Ambrose Heights renewed Ryan’s desire to live there. Every detail—the entry gates, the AH-monogrammed sign, the personnel uniforms and landscaping—was always pristine and immaculate.
And the streets were always quiet.
No activity. No noise.
Perfect setting for my retreat, Ryan thought as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the tang and sensation of the crisp mountain air.
* * * *
“Ryan, I hope are you are sitting down. Vaughn called. The offer is being accepted.”
“Alan White, my attorney extraordinaire, I knew you could do it!” Ryan said with enthusiasm.
“There are conditions.”
Ryan stood up slowly from his desk and paced his office, anxious expectancy coiling throughout his body. He treaded lightly across the black concrete floors, his movement reflecting in the high, polished sheen. The walls were black, the leather furniture supple. An old-world globe cabinet tilted open, displaying a collection of glasses and expensive liquors. The intricate details etched in its antiqued shell paired nicely with the rich cherrywood. René Magritte’s The Son of the Man painting sat prominently above the granite fireplace as the orange flames radiated from the graphite and alpine fireplace crystals.
He’d spared no expense. The office was posh, the essence of masculine extravagance.
“What are the conditions?” Ryan asked, his eagerness firing little bits of lightning in the room as he engaged the speaker phone.
“First, the house is to be sold as is. No inspections,” Alan responded, a slight wavering ringing in his words.
“And let me guess…there is a second condition, right?”
“Yes. They also rejected our proposal option to buy the land. Apparently the Matthews family owns title to all the land and they intend on keeping it that way. This means the property would be sold as a leasehold. The bright side is they are willing to set a lease contract for twenty years.”
Ryan settled at the window and gazed at the mountain range where Ambrose Heights stood. “Meaning I just have to wait twenty years before they can fuck me over with inflated lease payments. Doesn’t get brighter than that, I guess.”
Alan sighed. Ryan could hear him shuffle through the papers on the other side of the line.
“Well, there is one more thing…a third condition.”
“What is it, Alan?”
“They want to complete the deal within forty-eight hours.”
A long pause sounded on the line, airy and unsettling. “Since you are not securing a mortgage on the property, technically, the inspection counter is not a problem. But Ryan, I would strongly advise against the deal. I know the owner is thought to be an eccentric, but this stipulation is absurd! It’s Ambrose Heights, yes, but to give up your right to an inspection? Ridiculous!” Alan waited a second before continuing. “And closing within forty-eight hours—”
Interrupting Alan, Ryan snapped in response, “Alan, do you not see that this is my moment? That I can have Ambrose Heights? I’m not going to pass on this! I have been beyond hopeful, beyond prepared for this very news! All of these months of moving money here, transferring assets there—all of the painstaking efforts, and now the funds are successfully in place. You know this, yet you are advising against it? I pay you a lot of money to take care of the legal issues, not for your opinion.”
“Actually, I make a good living for exactly that…my opinion,” Alan said bluntly.
Ryan took a deep breath in, reining in his outburst as he leaned against the window. He closed his eyes tightly as he spoke, “Look, you said the guy is eccentric. True. But most of all, he is a control fiend.” Ryan paused and opened his eyes. “Don’t you see his game? These drawn-out negotiations, numerous changes to the contract, days without calls, calls in the middle of the night? They’re all methodically crafted to fulfill his need for dominance. This closing stipulation of two days and no inspection…it is just his last effort, a means to dangle me by his strings one last time. I’ll play his game if it means my ass will be perched on top of the mountain, in that house, sipping champagne and looking down at all of the fucking people in town. They will envy me!”
“You realize that we would have to close by Thursday?” Alan replied, making a last effort to sound his opinion carefully in the matter.
“Accept the deal with the conditions, Alan. I want Ambrose Heights.” Ryan firmly accentuated his last line. “Make the necessary arrangements to the property title as we planned. I’ll work on her over the weekend to sign the quitclaim deed.”
“And, as for the remaining matter?’
“What about it?”
“Well, have you changed your mind, or are we to proceed as planned after the title transfer is complete?” Alan questioned.
Ryan sighed. “Anya. Yes, proceed. All I want is Anise.”
Chapter Two
The Mercedes G550 maneuvered through the switchbacks of the mountain pass that led to Ambrose Heights. Ryan was a little on edge as he’d never made the trip at dusk and the light snow flurry that had started earlier in the evening was now heavier and sticking to the road. A sense of relief washed over him as he finally came upon the only straightaway in the journey.
This was his perfect opportunity.
He rolled his shoulders, slid back into the seat warmers, and allowed his hands to loosen their grip on the wheel. Slowly, he glided his hands around the steering wheel, enjoying the sensation the texture created on his palms.
Ryan was consumed with absolute contentment as he reflected in the silence.
The house. The Mercedes. They are mine.
He pictured what the house would look like at night, how he would tower above the sparkle and shimmer of the city below. He wondered about the exact number of people he could pack in the house when he was ready to throw himself a housewarming party. The guest list would be long and obviously take some methodical planning. He would be strategic, inviting the right people who could spread the word about his extravagant purchase. In the right hands, the invitation could lead to more opportunities, maybe even land a feature story in the architectural magazine.
But this time, he would be on the cover.
Fulfillment washed over him as he took a deep breath. His nostrils immediately filled with the scent of leather, but through the air of masculinity, a spice-laced perfume delicately surfaced.
His gaze traveled to the passenger seat. He soaked in her beautiful features as she slept. Her olive-tone skin, her long, silky, black hair, her slender legs, he loved everything about her. He softly caressed her cheek with the back of his hand and edited his previous thought.
The house. The Mercedes. The beauty by my side. They are mine.
She was his latest acquisition.
Like a trophy on display, she glistened. Her attractiveness radiated a discernible vibrancy. He shook his head in adoration. It was the newness of her and the ability to parade her around in his new social circle for which he held a categorical anticipation. Surely the wealthy men of Ambrose Heights would be envious of
his ownership. Without a doubt, they would have the most exquisite taste, a real eye for a stunning beauty.
And Anise DeVera was nothing less than stunning.
She was adventurous, animated, and so full of life. Every day was filled with anticipation, every evening sparked with passion. She made him feel fresh, young, and wild. Being with her reignited his passion and possibilities in his life.
Anise caught his hand in hers, planting a loving kiss with her full lips. Her almond-shaped eyes opened, and she looked up at him. Instantly, thoughts of the house were now replaced with random images of their passionate lovemaking. Things he wanted to do to her. Things he would do for her. They would work at christening every part of the house. A deep sense of hunger burned through him.
How much longer is the drive?
She placed his hand on the steering wheel and let her hand travel to his knee.
He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled in response to her touch.
She rubbed his knee with one hand.
Sensing her intention, Ryan parted his legs and slid forward in his seat, allowing his crotch to rise slightly. He immediately reached for a control button that sent the steering column in a receding motion, affording her more accessibility.
With some reach, he maintained control of the wheel.
Slowly, her hand glided up along his inner thigh.
Ryan’s eyes darted between the road and Anise’s exploratory hands. She moved with precision, leaving a trail of tormenting sparks to pierce down to his bones. With every touch, he responded with a tremble and his breath grew deeper. He parted his lips, rimming his tongue along his bottom lip.
On her last swipe up his thigh, she angled her hand so her fingers were pointing upward and delicately cupped his crotch. She ran her thumb and middle finger up and down each side of his hardness that was clearly outlined beneath the material.
He throbbed under his trousers in anticipation of what she was planning on doing next.
Adjusting herself on the seat, Anise leaned into Ryan. Pulling on his zipper, her craving-filled eyes were focused and targeted. She found her way to his briefs and methodically tucked her fingers in the opening of the material in search for his cock. The tip was already glistening with a bead of excitement.
Ryan put his hand on the back of her head and motioned her down. Her mouth took him with authority and excitement.
Ryan let out a moan.
She moved up and down, allowing her tongue to trace every vein and contour in a wet exploration. His fingers splayed the width of her skull. Desire mounted and soon, Ryan’s hands were demanding, dictating the moment and directing her pace.
Ryan tilted his head back, savoring the feeling of her warm mouth taking him in.
Suddenly, a thunderous strike echoed through the vehicle and shattered the moment. She immediately responded to the violent jerk, quickly releasing Ryan and returned to the safety of her seat. From Ryan’s estimation, he had hit a deep pothole in the road. He looked in the rearview mirror instinctively but could only see darkness. Ryan nervously tucked himself back into the trousers and steadied both hands on the wheel.
“A little help with the zipper?” he asked as he tried to regain concentration on the road.
She leaned forward to help him.
The polished, red jasper that hung from the rearview mirror swiftly sparked his attention. From the impact, the stone swayed back and forth in a rhythmic pendulum swing. He gazed at the stone, the movement hypnotic, conjuring up memories.
Memories he did not want to evoke.
At once, a sharp pain suspended in the hollow of his chest as the image of his wife flooded his mind, recalling their exchange earlier that day.
“This is for your car, honey,” Anya’s sultry voice echoed in his head.
She’d stood in their driveway, dangling a package in front of him as he turned over the engine. A shawl rested on her shoulders, outlining her low-cut white embroidered tunic. Her long bohemian skirt blew gracefully in the light wind. She pulled her hair behind her ear on one side, exposing her exuberant smile as she walked to the passenger door. Anya’s shapely body stirred something in him as he watched her walk in front of the SUV. She opened the door and leaned in through the passenger seat to hang her present on his rearview mirror, creating the most advantageous view of her cleavage. Ryan closed his eyes tightly and shook his head, reminding himself of the decision he had already made.
By that evening, he would be gone.
“It’s red jasper. It is said to protect against harm, especially against hazards that come at night.” Anya looked up at Ryan with a smile and reached to cup his jawline in her hand. “Perfect for you, Mr. Workaholic. I would feel a lot better if this was with you. ”
“And, I suppose I have Michelle to thank for this as well?”
She shrugged innocently before giving him a quick peck on the lips. “My last lesson cancelled for this evening, so I can be home early. Call me when you’re about to leave the office and we can hurry and start the weekend.”
Ryan nodded in response, watching her make her way to her car.
From the moment he first saw Anya, he was captivated. He watched her command attention, dominate all focus in a room. He saw the way men would stop and stare, clamor for her attention. More than just an exotic beauty, she was a treasure, an indispensable asset that could solidify a man’s worth. Without a second thought, he knew right then and there, he had to have her. When she’d taken his name, he soaked in all of the covetous eyes, relishing his possession. But he soon realized deep in his core he craved variety, novelty in the unfamiliar and adventure in the unexpected.
All things a marriage could not easily afford.
He’d waited, watching her car disappear around the bend from his rearview mirror. Ryan cut the Mercedes engine and stepped out of the vehicle, back onto the driveway. He hurried, entering their home, and retrieved the suitcase he had concealed in the coat closet. He’d worked all week to inconspicuously pack for his getaway. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a square envelope. He ran his fingers over the envelope one last time as he balanced the letter against a vase that sat on the foyer’s entry table.
Ryan’s thoughts drifted back to the present, concentrating on the last few miles of his drive. The red jasper’s hypnotic swing was now reduced to a simple sway, breaking any hold it once had on him.
He glanced at the time.
Anya should be making her way home.
His plan was moving along like clockwork. Everything spilled into that letter, waiting to be revealed.
After five years of marriage, his love for her diminished. Life became too predictable, too routine, and too ordinary. There was no fire, no passion. He wished to start a new life, a life with someone new. He looked over at the passenger seat and gazed at Anise. The woman had stolen his heart. She was the unique fire that rekindled everything he’d lost.
In that moment, he settled his thoughts, confident in his decision.
The straightway ended and the last set of sharp turns in the road before reaching the gates of Ambrose Heights were coming up.
The stretch of road that had no guardrails, he mentally noted.
The snow was now heavier, quickly diminishing visibility in the darkness. Ryan readjusted himself in the seat as his foot lightened its demand on the gas pedal.
Anise reached for her seat belt. She tugged and pulled, but all she could capture was the smoothness of the fabric. Somewhere behind the seat, the belt’s metal fitting had gotten tangled. She turned around in her seat, pressing her cheek against the cold window and reached behind to untangle the belt.
“What are you doing?” Ryan asked.
“My seat belt is stuck and I’m trying to…” she said.
“Do it gently!” Ryan barked. “The leather…I’d like to keep it looking new. Your long nails can do some real damage. Have you seen my back lately? I had to work at hiding it from her all week.”
“All right,” s
he said with a slight agitation in her tone. She fumbled around a little more then exclaimed, “Got it!”
* * * *
Anise lifted her cheek from the cold glass and exposed the metal fitting of the belt. As she adjusted, allowing her hand to pull the belt up and around her, she glanced out the window.
Two red orbs met her eyes.
She frowned.
Blinking curiously, she leaned in closer to see what the red objects were.
The red, fiery orbs disappeared for a brief second and reappeared again.
She closed her eyes tight and rubbed her eyelids, one with her thumb and the other with her forefinger. With fresh eyes, she settled into her stare. The window was speckled with snowflakes, some dense in their formation and some just delicate traces across the glass. Her eyes were playing tricks on her, moving in and out of focus, marring her ability to clearly see what lay beyond in the darkness. She sank deep into her gaze, relaxing her eyes as if looking at a piece of 3-D art. The bright-white patterning of the snow blurred, receding into the background, allowing the darkness to become the forefront.
Suddenly, the image was fully revealed.
In an instant, she pulled back. The harsh realization that the objects were two eyes blinking back at her was crushing. Anise froze in fear, focusing in on the eyes. They were sinister and chilling. She evaluated further, her eyes now fine-tuned, rendering defined features one by one. Gray-toned skin, an eerie chalkiness in its texture, deep-seated wrinkles, and sharp, elongated teeth came into focus.
It wasn’t human. It wasn’t an animal. She couldn’t say for sure what she was looking at. It was a creature. The eyes were familiar in their penetration, exuding wickedness and reveling in malicious intent.