by CM Deveraux
“That s’posed to be some kinda joke, man?” Short Stack Two asked. “We said outside.”
“No, I said outside.”
In unison, both Short Stack’s turned their heads, anxious to see who had joined the conversation. Their jaws dropped as they recognized the man in the black suit standing before them.
“Terrence Knight?” Short Stack One said. “I can’t believe it. I flippin’ love you, man! I’ve seen like every movie you’ve ever made.”
Terrence looked at Gideon. “Something going on here?”
“These two boys have been harassing the ladies,” Gideon replied.
“What?” Short Stack One said. “We ain’t do nothin’ wrong, just havin’ a little fun is all.”
“Get out,” Terrence replied.
“Say what?”
“This is my club, and I just asked you boys to leave.”
Both Short Stacks stood there like they were waiting to hear the punch line of the joke.
“What do you say we take them outside and teach them both a lesson?” Gideon suggested.
“Oh, come on man,” Short Stack One said. “We were just messin’ around. We didn’t mean anything.”
“Apologize to the ladies,” Gideon said. “Now.”
A half-hearted apology was offered. Terrence rejected it, made them do it again. The second time was part sincere, part terrified. Apology delivered, they left the club, permanently banned from ever returning again.
As it turned out, Terrence Knight was also one of Gideon’s clients. To make up for the boys’ wrongdoings, he gave us unlimited rounds on the house. Jess, Kenna, and Callie decided they’d seen enough action and called it a night.
“Sorry to steal her from you,” Jess said. “But it’s time for this one to go home too.”
“I don’t mind giving her a ride,” Gideon said.
They turned to me for a final verdict, but I’d only been half-listening. “Go ahead. He can take me home.”
“Are you sure?” Jess asked.
“Yes, go. I’m fine.”
Jess whispered in Gideon’s ear and called herself a cab, leaving the two of us to cap off the night alone. I partook of one drink, a concoction Terrence suggested, and had started on another before I realized something—Gideon said he wanted to talk and we hadn’t. Not yet.
“You talkin’ to me or what?” I rubbed my hands together, reclined back on one of the clubs plush sofas. “Let’s do this.”
The room whizzed around me like a merry-go-round set to warp speed.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Yep,” I said. “Yes I am, and I’m ready to talk. Ready Freddie.”
He slung an arm around my shoulders. “How many drinks have you had tonight?”
I uttered the word “five,” but realized I was only holding up three fingers. Perhaps I’d had my fill for the night.
“Why don’t I take you home?” he suggested.
“I don’t want to go home yet.”
“What would you like to do then?”
I pressed a finger into his chest. “You. I want to go to your house.”
“How about this—I’ll take you home, and you can come to my house tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow,” I said. “Right. Now.”
CHAPTER 15
“This isn’t your house,” I blurted.
The house we stood in wasn’t a house at all—it was a condo, or a town house, or something.
“Remember earlier when I told you I was staying at a place by my office?” Gideon spread his hands. “This is it.”
I didn’t remember. I nodded anyway.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked.
“What are my options?”
“I was thinking water.”
I laughed. Was he kidding?
He wasn’t kidding.
“Why would I want that?”
“You’ll thank me in the morning,” he said.
“I’ll thank you now.”
I couldn’t look at him without remembering how good it had felt to be in his arms, his hands feeling, exploring, his mouth desperate for my kiss. I unzipped the side of my dress, watched it slink to the ground. I kicked it to the side and tiptoed over to him. My naked body was on full display, and soon, his would be too, if I had anything to say about it.
“Why don’t you finish what you started earlier?” I teased.
I grabbed for his shirt, planning to tear it from his body the moment I had it in my hands. It slipped through my fingers, like it had been coated in butter.
Gideon stepped back. “Sasha...”
What was he doing? Didn’t he want this? I was stark naked, and he was rejecting me. No...no...no...this wasn’t happening.
“Don’t you want me?” I asked.
His eyes said he did, so why had he stiffened in all the wrong places?
“You’re all I want, all I think about.”
“Then...what’s the problem?”
His eyes shifted downward, focused on my chest, except my breasts weren’t the main attraction—my wounds were—the permanent scars Damon had carved out with his knife. Gideon had seen them before. Not in the flesh, in the pictures we’d planned to use in court. Seeing them now probably made all the difference. I felt embarrassed, like a refurbished computer no one wanted when they could by a new one instead. A better one.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted.
“No, Sasha. You don’t ever need to apologize to me.”
Too late.
I pressed the tips of my fingers onto the side of my face. “My head is...I don’t feel so good.”
A glass of water appeared in his hand like he’d pulled it out of thin air. He set it down on the dresser behind him, took a shirt out of a drawer. He bunched it up and slipped it over my head. “Here, put this on.”
I was too tired to argue. He handed me a white pill. I didn’t bother asking what it was. I took it, swallowed several gulps of water, and resisted the urge to throw up. My feet were dangling in the air, and it occurred to me I was no longer standing on the ground. Gideon was carrying me in his arms like a bride about to be taken across the threshold. I’d never experienced the tradition before. The moment Damon and I had returned from our honeymoon, he ditched me to shoot hoops with his buddies. I’d moved into our new house alone, walked my own damn self across the threshold.
Looking back, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
When it came to Damon, I’d always been alone.
CHAPTER 16
I woke curled into the fetal position in a corner of a really big bed under about ten layers of blankets. The room I was in was sparse to say the least. It had stark, tan walls, two nightstands and a mattress sitting on railings and nothing else.
My head hurt, my eyes hurt—hell—it all hurt. I looked around, tried to get my bearings, but I didn’t recognize the bedroom I was in. I peeled the covers back and caught a glimpse of the green four-leaf-clover T-shirt I had on. The way it hung off my body made it seem obvious the shirt belonged to a man. It was too large to be a woman’s and had an intoxicating smell I’d caught a whiff of the night before, at Gideon’s place.
I jogged my memory, desperate to recall the last time I saw him. It was at his house the night before, the one he was selling. I remembered leaving, speeding out of the driveway. If that was the last I saw of him, how did I end up in what I assumed to be his shirt? I walked to the window, pushed the curtains aside, looked out—or down, I should say. It became apparent I was on a very high level of a building, possibly a hotel. Definitely not the neighborhood Gideon’s house had been in.
I vaguely recalled a conversation I’d had with Jess the night before, sometime after I left Gideon’s house. I couldn’t extract the finer details, but my brain kept manufacturing visual images of Hollywood A-list actor Terrence Knight handing me a shot glass of a drink he referred to as a Copper Camel. Weird. I hadn’t seen one of his movies in ages. So much of the night before was a blur, it had me
worried.
Too afraid to tiptoe out of the bedroom I was in, I tried for answers a simpler way. I texted Jess. She responded within seconds. The short version: Gideon showed up at Rapture, and at some point, offered to drive me home. He’d texted her when I ended up at his house instead, saying I was safe and staying there overnight. The ridiculous amount of exclamation points that followed meant she believed a bit of night magic had transpired. I hadn’t been in my right mind. I hoped she was wrong.
I tossed my phone to the side, stood, then lost my footing and sat again. It must have been one hell of a night. A glass of water rested on the nightstand next to me along with two pieces of toast. No note. Nothing to explain how they got there, and obviously they hadn’t made themselves. I nibbled on a piece, quickly realizing my body wasn’t ready for food just yet.
I heard something, breathing, coming from behind the cracked-but-not-fully-closed bedroom door.
“I can hear you,” I stated.
“It’s Gideon. Can I come in?”
At this point he’d already poked his head in and was ogling me. What choice did I have?
“Morning,” I said.
At least, I assumed it was still morning.
He sent his signature smile my direction. “I’m glad you’re up.”
“I’d like to go home.”
He was dressed like he was due in court. “Now?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“Jess said she doesn’t need you at the office today, so there’s no rush.”
She did, did she?
I made a mental note to speak with her later about her incessant need to overshare.
“I’m not sure what happened last night, but I’d like to forget it,” I said. “All of it.”
“Everything? Are you sure?”
He stifled a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Do you even remember coming here last night?”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t, do you?”
“Why does it matter—it’s not like we had sex or anything.”
I may have spoken too hastily. Considering the facts: One, my clothes were nowhere to be found, and Two, I was wearing his shirt and nothing else. One plus one did equal a possible escapade. I slapped a hand over my mouth. “Did we do anything last night?”
“It’s a good thing we didn’t,” he winked. “I might be offended if you didn’t remember.”
“It’s all a bit foggy. What happened? Why am I here?”
Gideon gave me the highlights, mentioned some kid hitting on me at Rapture. He witnessed me have one drink and two shots, but couldn’t account for how many I’d imbibed before he got there. My friends left me in his care, and he brought me back to his place, where he swore I was too exhausted to carry on a conversation, let alone light his fire. He said he gave me one of his shirts and sent me to the guest bedroom to sleep it off. The story sounded basic—too basic—like there was a big chunk missing. Too bad I’d never know.
“Why did you come to the club after I left your house?” I asked.
“You were angry. I wanted to talk, clear the air if I could.”
“And did we?”
“We did not.”
He’d put me up for the night—I could at least hear him out. “Do you want to talk now?”
“I have a meeting, or I would.” He walked over, pressed a silver key into the palm of my hand. It dangled from a leather key chain that had the words Porsche embossed on it. “There’s a car parked out front. Use it to get home. I’ll arrange to have it picked up later. In the bottom drawer of the dresser, there are some gym shorts. They might drown you, but they’re all I have.”
He backed away.
“You’re leaving...now?”
Of course he was. He’d just made it perfectly clear.
“There is one other thing before I go.” He held out his hand. “Come with me.”
I followed him down a flight of stairs and into a bathroom tucked at the end of a long hall. Before me was a tub that looked like a miniature grotto. It spanned at least ten feet in length and was almost deep enough to swim in. I reached out, touched the tan exterior. It felt like hardened sand, the gritty texture crumbling into tiny grains inside my hand. Gideon pressed a button on the wall. Pale, blue light filtered down from the ceiling. Mood lighting. Kinky. He pressed another button. The blue light faded. A string of candles illuminated, circling the tub, creating a dim, enticing ambience.
“Stay as long as you like.” He bent down, yanked the knob to the left. Water streamed through a long, rectangular spout, pouring into the tub like a waterfall. “It will take about forty-five minutes to fill up. I’ve had my assistant prepare breakfast.”
“Your...assistant?”
“Brian. Yes. He cooks, he organizes my day, does whatever I need him to do.”
“Is he...”
“Here? No. He’s gone. You have the place to yourself. You won’t be bothered.”
Too bad. I was building up a sweat just looking at Gideon.
“If you’re available tonight, I’d like to take you to dinner.”
“Okay.”
“Six o’clock?”
“Okay.”
My nerves had taken over, making “okay” the only audible sound I was capable of making. It was time for him to leave, and all I could do was fantasize about him bending me over the counter and sealing the deal, finishing what he started the night before. I wondered how he would leave things—head nod, a simple goodbye, a passionate kiss? I didn’t wait long for an answer. He leaned in and my eyes fluttered closed, prepared for the incoming lip lock. It wasn’t meant to be. He brushed his lips across my cheek. It lasted a second or two, no more, and when my eyes reopened again he was already out of sight, leaving me aching, lusting, wanting more.
CHAPTER 17
When the clock struck bath-time some forty-five minutes later, I raised Gideon’s shirt over my head and dipped a toe into a little slice of piping-hot heaven. Sitting with my knees in a crisscross position in front of me, I submerged myself, remaining there until I was forced to pop my head above the surface to ingest a steamy breath of air.
I floated to the opposite end of the tub. Carved chairs made of stone flanked both sides. I scooted my body onto one and reclined back, finding a series of buttons to play with on the armrest. I pressed each one. The first two ignited jets, shooting water in all directions beneath the surface. The third showered water down from needle-sized holes in the ceiling. I basked in it, feeling like I was under a waterfall in a tropical rainforest.
I trailed my hands down my body and back up my sides, felt the dimpled, healing flesh made from the knife that pierced my skin. It stirred up a memory I’d forgotten of me standing before Gideon. Naked. I trembled at the thought of it, heard my gasp echo throughout the room. I’d thrown myself at someone who didn’t want me. I’d offered, and he’d refused. The last thing I remembered was him looking at my scars and backing away.
My scars repulsed him. But if that were true, why had he been so nice this morning, his tone dripping with sweet, heartfelt concern? He probably didn’t want to disappoint his best pal Richard. Disappointing Richard meant disappointing Jess. Why risk a mess if you can keep things clean, friendly?
I didn’t want it to be true, but it was. He’d kissed me on the cheek before he left, not on the lips. Proof he didn’t want me. I started to wonder if he ever had. I swam back to my towel, dried my hands, reached for my phone. I draped my body over the side as I feverishly typed the text message I was preparing to send to him: I can’t have dinner with you tonight.
His response was swift, arriving less than a minute later: Why not?
Me: You know why. I remember what happened last night. I don’t need you to take me to dinner so you can let me down gently. I’m a big girl, I get it. I’ll still sell your house if that’s what you want, and you can represent me until my case is over. This doesn’t need to be anything more than what it i
s—business. I don’t want your pity.
Another text popped up. I didn’t open it. I was too busy hurling my phone across the room to care. Any chance we had at being together was over before it even began. I’d been right all along, and Jess had been wrong. She usually excelled at this, even matching two coworkers over the last six months. Not this time.
I was furious with myself, with him. I needed to leave, get out of here. Now. He could keep his friggin’ Porsche. I’d call a cab. Anything to save me from seeing him again. I stood, half-wrapped a towel around me, and stepped out. The door whooshed open. Gideon walked in.
“What the hell?!” I spat. “Get out!”
He leaned against the door, closing it. “No.”
“I don’t care if this is your house. You can’t barge in here.”
He heard me—he just didn’t give a damn. Without acknowledging a word I’d said, he kicked off his shoes, peeled his socks from his feet.
“Whoa—what are you doing?” I asked.
“There are two ways this can happen—I undress myself, or you do it for me.”
Was this some kind of joke?
“Stop,” I said. “Let me out. I’m leaving.”
This comment he found amusing.
“No, you’re not.”
He flung his jacket to the floor, fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. When he couldn’t get them undone fast enough, he took hold of the button-up with both hands and yanked it to the side. Buttons burst through the air, flying everywhere. The shirt was off, and, like it or not, I was on. Turned on.
He loosened his belt, unzipping his pants with far more patience than he’d shown his shirt. He knew I was watching. Unable to move, my eyes remained glued to the bulge growing inside his tight, black briefs. He looked into my eyes while he pulled them down and stood there, fully exposed, allowing me the same spectacle he’d received the night before from me.
He walked toward me. I stepped back. He brushed by me and stepped into the water like I wasn’t even there.
“You’re free to go,” he said. “If you like.”