Blyssful Lies

by J. C. Cliff

  Psychology was always one of those subjects I was never interested in studying while at college. I found it to be boring, especially when I could be using every spare minute I had to create art. But Nick has to have some form of delusional obsession that lies within his psyche. It’s the only explanation I can come up with. He’s stalked me for God knows how long and had planned for my very capture, down to the day. I still can’t help but think there is something familiar about him though. Someone of his prestige surely knows my father. I wrack my brain, only to come up empty-handed.

  For some reason, my mind turns to thoughts of Travis, maybe because I’m feeling highly insecure and unstable at the moment. I think back over the way he would always pick up the broken pieces, putting me back together after having a nervous breakdown. The majority of the time, he always made me feel protected, special, and desired—unless, of course, I stepped out of line, and then he would show me just how brutal he could be.

  I miss happy Travis, and I truly thought I had him figured out. I wish I had been given the opportunity to know him without all of the complexities surrounding us; on the other hand, I would never have given him the time of day, because my sights would’ve been set on Adam.

  Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, my mind wanders, and I can’t help thinking I meant more to Travis than he let on. I would imagine him taking pity on me and helping me escape this hell, so I could go back to my old life. It’s stupid of me to think of such things, knowing I’m the low man on the totem pole, especially since he made it clear where his loyalties lie, which is with the success of this business.

  Speaking of escaping from this place, I wish I knew where my father is and what he’s doing to get me out of this mess. I can’t lose hope. I have to believe he will find me, and if he does by chance know where I am, I’m sure he’s only biding his time, waiting to find a way in with guns a’ blazing. God only knows what Adam must be going through. My father has power, prestige, and the ability to hire an army on my behalf, but Adam is simply helpless. He’s just a sweet, simple young man with no resources and wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for me. Heck, he’s never even handled a firearm.

  The music picks up in the background, bringing me back to the present. Some people are getting up to dance, and as they do, I recognize a few of them from my birthday party last week. Everyone here seems to have dates of their own this evening. It simply baffles my brain thinking about these women, who actually want to be drugged and want to be puppets on a string. I’m astounded as to why anyone would want to give up their freedom and be unquestionably subservient and passive slaves to morally corrupt men. If you love someone, why the hell would you want to drug them?

  “Darling, you’ve been silent for a bit. Is that first glass of wine catching up with you, making you sleepy?” Nick asks, interrupting my thoughts.

  I shake my head and turn toward Nick. “No, I was just noticing I recognized some of the women here tonight. How did they get dates?”

  “They’re not dates, love. Those are their owners.” Oh, yes, of course, silly me, how did I overlook the obvious? This is a merchandising store, after all.

  The look on my face must be all-telling, because Nick begins to chuckle. “Don’t look so shocked, Princess. These women are loved and wanted. They were bought at a high price and will be well taken care of. Some of these men not only paid top dollar, but they’ve uprooted their entire lives in order to make their dreams come true.”

  What about the dreams of these women? This facility should be called the Fatal Attraction Country Club. “Did they ever hear of traditional dating?” I retort. Shit, I need to calm back down and let this go for now. I steal a deep breath while grabbing my wine glass and imbibe.

  “You still have a little hell-cat in you, don’t you?” he asks amused, his lips twisting into a little smirk. “Let me ask you this. Would you have dated me when you didn’t know me?”

  I shrug. “Truthfully? If I was single, most likely.” It’s the simple truth. I watch his index finger tap against his lips in thought.

  “Once again, my love, you surprise me.”

  I watch as Nick takes one last drink of his liquor, swallowing it in one gulp. As he sets the empty glass down on the table, he expels a gust of air from between his clenched teeth and makes a face as if the liquor has burned his throat. He then holds out his well-manicured hand, indicating for me to take it. “Come, let’s dance,” he gently demands.

  I slip my hand in his and get up to follow him onto the dance floor. As I look around the large ballroom, everyone gives the impression they are truly enjoying themselves. The closer we get to the dance floor, the louder the music gets, but it’s not obnoxious. The volume still allows for quiet, intimate conversation at the surrounding tables.

  I’m transfixed on a particular couple, who are gliding across the dance floor. They’ve got moves like they belong on “Dancing with the Stars.” She’s elegantly dressed, her sequins shimmering and sparkling under the lights. The consummate vision the couple created was breathtaking.

  “Talented couple, aren’t they?” Nick asks softly into my ear with a deep, gravelly voice.

  “Yes, very enchanting,” I agree. “I could just sit here and watch them dance all evening; they’re so elegant.”

  “Not as elegant as you are,” he says in a husky whisper. Nick’s rich cologne surrounds me as he pulls me in close, wrapping his hands around my waist. Reflexively, my hands move to his chest, and my heart begins to speed up from his close proximity. His strong muscles flex under my palms, and the sensation has me confused. Why do I feel this way? Is it his prestige, power, and masculine GQ looks, which have me the envy of every female here tonight? No, I’m not that shallow. Maybe it’s the wine, in combination with him putting me on a pedestal, letting me out of my cage for the evening, and treating me like a princess.

  He leads me into a slow dance, making his own heated rhythm flow between our bodies. He tilts his head to the side in question. “Do you know how to waltz?”

  I grin; perhaps it is the wine loosening my inhibitions and making me feel giddy. Lord knows I have zero tolerance for alcohol, and I threw back two glasses of wine in less than twenty minutes. “Yes, my father made sure I learned a little bit of everything life had to offer, including dance lessons.”

  With the wine doing a damn fine job of relaxing me, I’m comfortable enough in his presence to lay my head on his shoulder and snuggle into the warmth of his hard body. He groans into the crook of my neck, and as he begins moving his hips into mine, I realize my mistake a tad too late. I can feel his powerful thighs as he works one leg between mine. My pulse rate spikes as I fight against the alcohol coursing through my body, which seems to have had an effect on my state of arousal.

  His hands press into my lower back, and his muscles flex as he forces my body to fit tightly against his. When he begins nipping at the sensitive skin below my ear, I gasp and grow dizzy. Oh, hell, I’m in trouble. My eyes flutter closed and butterflies take flight in my belly. I have never in my life experienced such a wide range of emotions within such a short timeframe. I seem to have gone from scared and angry, to lustful in less than an hour.

  As we slowly sway to the music, he murmurs against my ear, “You are absolutely exquisite tonight. I just want to hold you like this all night, dancing to our own beat.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see other people are waltzing to the Kenny Chesney song “Angel Loved the Devil” that’s playing, and I have to stifle a laugh, because really, what are the odds?

  Nick pulls his upper body back, forcing me to lift my gaze to his. I bite my lower lip, not knowing what to do. The wine is making me feel like I have not a care in the world. I watch as his eyes linger on my lips, then move down to the low cut bodice of my dress, which is exposing cleavage. He gazes there for a moment, his eyes beginning to dilate with heated lust.

  Suddenly, I’m being pushed away as he holds one of my hands, and he whirls me around. I squeal out loud from the su
rprising, impulsive movement. It makes me feel free and whimsical, and a light, airy laugh escapes me while I’m being twirled around. Nick looks radiant, buoyant, and carefree as he gives me a roguish smile. His broad smile disarms me as I think about how I prefer a happy Nick over an asshole Nick any day.

  A few more beats of waltzing, I ask breathlessly with a smile, “How am I doing?”

  He gives me one more twirl, then pulls me back into his embrace, leaving no gap between us as he whispers, “You are no less than perfect, my angel.” With Nick’s handsome, stark features, the smell of his cologne, and my buzz from the wine: the deadly combination has my panties growing wet. “It’s good to see you smile.”

  My hands come to rest on Nick’s powerful, broad shoulders and I can’t help but gaze into his sparkling eyes as he moves in time with the music; he’s so happy.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” Nick asks.

  I nod. “I am, but I’m still a little on edge. I’m scared I’m going to make a mistake and disappoint you.”

  He moves his hips into mine, and I think I feel the beginnings of his arousal as he presses himself against my stomach. “Julianna, you are doing perfectly,” he huskily replies with a deep voice. “Relax, sweetheart. Stop overanalyzing our evening.”

  His hips sensually move against me, and I feel the flutter low in my groin when he grabs the globes of my ass, squeezing me through my thin gown. He lifts me just enough by my bottom so he can press my center against the tip of his hardness, and he begins to grind inconspicuously between my legs. My mouth dries instantly as my grip tightens on his shoulders. We are no longer waltzing, and I realize I am definitely no longer sober. He strategically places hot kisses around my ear and down my neck, making my eyes flutter closed of their own accord.

  He’s shrewdly and masterfully worn down my defenses. When he breathes hot air against my ear, I moan aloud and shivers race down my spine. I’m so dizzy with alcohol and lust that if he weren’t holding me so tightly, I’d be flat on the floor by now.

  I’m left wondering if something was slipped into my drink, because he feels so good, too good. Either that or I’m wasted. I quit trying to figure it out and arch my neck, exposing more skin for his lips to sear as my traitorous body begins to demand more. I feel his low growl reverberate off my neck.

  The man definitely has moves and a lot of experience in seduction. “Your little whimpers and moans are music to my ears, love,” he whispers against my sensitive flesh. “I love how you’re responding to me.” I exhale a shaky breath. Unfortunately, I love the sensations he’s bombarding me with at the moment too.

  “Kiss me, Princess, and you will see stars.” His lips hover over mine, and his eyes are sultry and intense. “Love me, and I will give them to you.” He whispers the last words just before he brings his soft lips down on mine. I press my hard nipples into his solid chest and close my eyes as he takes over in a dominating kiss. My hands glide over his shoulders, finding their way to the nape of his neck as I thread my fingers through his hair.

  When his tongue darts out to taste my lips, I respond by opening my mouth to him, needing more. He’s such an incredible kisser; the self-indulgent feelings have me whimpering into his mouth. “Oh, God, Princess, you’re killing me.” I can’t think straight as the warmth of his tongue slides over mine. His kiss tastes like liquor spritzed over mint, and I can’t get enough of him. His fiery tongue melts the savory goodness into mine, allowing the flavor to meld into my taste buds, becoming a part of me. I’m already drunk, I know it, but I’m getting plastered from his kiss.

  Our breathing grows heavy together, and I wonder if we’re going to make it off the dance floor in one piece. “I need a break before I take you right here on this dance floor,” he breathes heavily over my lips with a husky voice. I glance up into his lust-filled eyes and a seductive smile spreads across my lips. I love seeing Nick out of control; it lets me know he’s human.

  “Let’s see where your dinner is so we can eat, because I’m all too ready to pick up where we’re leaving off, but in private quarters.” He guides me from the dance floor with his hand possessively placed on the small of my back. This is the perfect opportunity to ask to visit the ladies room so I can have a serious conversation with my libido.

  Once we step off the dance floor, I turn to Nick and demurely ask, “May I please go to the ladies room? I don’t know where it is.”

  He leans down and gives me a chaste kiss on the lips. “Of course, it’s just past this dance floor on the right.” He gestures with his hand while turning my body around, pointing me in the general direction. “I’ll be waiting for you at the table,” he whispers into my ear as he leans over my shoulder, his voice sending goose bumps down my arms.

  I give him a slight nod and reply softly, “Thank you, I won’t be long.” I walk away as his hand trails off my shoulder and down my arm, as if he doesn’t want to let me go.

  I find my way to the bathroom without a hitch and take care of business. The alcohol has made me feel warm and fuzzy inside, and I’m thankful for it. While I’m washing my hands in the warm water, I take a moment to reflect in the mirror before me. I hardly recognize myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten this dressed up. I feel extra fancy, especially since I’ve never had a professional stylist do my hair and makeup before. I always told my dad I could do it myself for the events I attended with him. The shimmering sequins and how they lay across the front of my bodice accentuate my breasts, and the color of the dress compliments my fair skin. I look older, more sophisticated, and yet at the same time my eyes reveal a jaded and wearisome knowledge.

  Nick has destroyed my life, and it’s this very thought that begins to cool off my libido, despite my inebriation. My fists clench under the running water in frustration as I realize how foolish I was to think I could go without at least one dose of Blyss. I need its mind-altering attributes right now in order to successfully follow through with making love with him. I close my eyes against my reflection and shake my head. It wouldn’t be considered making love; we would be having corrupted, licentious sex. Maybe if I have one more glass of wine it will get me through the rest of this evening unscathed. I have to follow through, especially if I’m to ever earn his trust. Then, perhaps, I can acquire a little freedom as I create a well thought out plan to finally escape. I steal a deep breath for courage, turn off the water, and dry my hands. I stand tall with determination, sway, and then stifle a giggle. The state of mind I’m currently in ought to make things a little more interesting.

  I turn to open the door, and as I step out into the hallway to exit the bathroom, a beautiful woman happens to catch me off-guard as she stops directly in front me. She even goes so far as to prevent me from skirting around her when I think she just wants into the bathroom. I tilt my head in confusion, studying her to see what she wants with me; I don’t know anyone here. After a heartbeat, it dawns on me who this woman is. She’s the one from last week’s party who was giving me a hard time about not being thankful enough for living here in the lap of luxury. Tweedledee or Tweedledum, I can’t remember which.

  “Well, hello again, Princess. I see they’ve let you out of your cage.”

  I feel a lump forming in my throat; I don’t need this shit right now. I can plainly see her plans are evil, and she wants nothing more than to cause divisive hostility. It’s just inevitable, a force of nature really, because there always has to be somebody somewhere who is demented enough to think their life is incomplete if they don’t cause drama for others. Women like this one thrive and feed off controversy as if they are starved piranhas.

  She taps a forefinger on her lower lip as if she’s thinking, but she’s not; it’s all for show. “I’m curious. After you ruined that expensive birthday cake Nick had custom-made for you, what was your punishment?”

  It’s none of her damn business, and I’m not going to play into whatever game she’s playing. I watch her eyes narrow into little slits like an alley cat when I don’t answe
r her, and my defenses go up as I prepare for a nail-scratching, hair-pulling catfight.

  “Let me take a wild guess. I bet you didn’t even get your hand slapped, because you’re such a spoiled little rich bitch who grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth.” She eyes me hatefully. “You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, don’t you? I bet—”

  “You know nothing about me,” I retort, interrupting her. I turn to sidestep her and leave, but she grabs my arm in a tight vise, her French-manicured nails of steel digging into the bare skin of my forearm. I look from my arm to her eyes in disbelief. “I suggest you let go of me,” I say menacingly and give her a snarl, which makes a flash of fear cross over her eyes, but then it quickly disappears.

  “Oh, but I do know your kind,” she spits out. “You’re the kind to look down and judge people like me, because you’re such a self-righteous prig.”

  The little hairs on the back of my neck prickle. The bitch wants a knock-down, drag-out fight in formal attire, and I’m ready to make her dreams come true. “Let go of me, you whore,” I growl in a low tone. I yank my arm out of her hold, her nails scratching across my arm, leaving angry red marks in their wake.

  “Do you know how many women would give their right arm just to catch the attention of Nick Palcini? You don’t deserve him!”

  I give her an evil smirk and say with calm ire, “What’s the matter? Are you jealous? You don’t have what it takes to catch the attention of a man like Nick, and I do.” I couldn’t give a shit less about Nick, but I need to rub something in.

  “Ha! Let me tell you something, you little shit. I’ve already had him, and I’m here to personally tell you you’re only a fling to him.” Her eyes trail over my body with intense, scrutinizing disdain. “You are nothing special, and I don’t believe you actually have what it takes to keep a man like him satisfied.” She pauses in her haughty tirade before delivering the final blow, shaking her head all-knowingly. “This happens every month. He’s become so predictable; it’s like clockwork. Every girl he’s ever had only lasts about a month or so before he gets bored of them. After he’s had his fill, its then they wind up getting sold into the trade, every one of them,” she emphasizes, “and you’re no different. That’s why I’m still here. I have what it takes to keep a man like him fulfilled. He always comes back to me,” she says with a smug smile.