The Devil's Desire

by Clara Capp

  “I love you,” he murmurs as he lays me on the bed.

  “I love you, too.”

  End Matter

  Continue reading for the first two chapters of my previous novel, Crosstalk. Warning: the heat level is extremely high!

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  NATALIE

  I didn’t want to fall in love with a stranger.

  The goal was to spite my asshole ex-boyfriend and prove that I, Natalie Lane, can be adventurous. Instead, I stumbled upon an off-limits area in a club and met a man in a mask that has turned my plain life upside down. With Major, my life is almost perfect.

  I’m just so sick of the new marketing manager.

  PATRICK

  I never thought a girl could make me feel this way.

  I haven’t kept one around for more than two weeks. When Daisy—literally—stumbles into my life, I never expected I’d be begging her to come back. But I did. I’m nervous about the new feelings this girl in a mask is making me experience. It can’t be love… right?

  Now if only I could get rid of that Ice Queen accounting manager.

  Chapter One

  Natalie

  Finding “The One.” Women start dreaming about it when they are little girls, and it lasts into our adult years. Maybe it’s programmed into our DNA. When we’re children we read fairytales and watch princesses fall in love with Prince Charming. Then come our teenage years, and we are certain we’re going to spend the rest of our lives with the boy we met in homeroom. Adulthood comes around, littered with romance novels to remind you that you haven’t found your “One.”

  But, none of these give a set criteria of if he’s Prince Charming. We observe other women falling in love and hope we notice when the same happens to us. Why isn’t there a scientific study for this?

  Is your heartbeat faster? Check.

  Is he constantly on your mind? Check.

  Are you always tongue-tied when you see him? Check.

  I have found my “One” after twenty-nine years of searching. Nathan is so perfect that sometimes I think I’m dreaming. He’s the full package—model looks, height, and is extremely successful for his age. Nathan is already a partner at one of the Los Angeles’ top law firms. I’m not sure why he chose me, but I thank my lucky stars every day.

  He wants to see me before he leaves on his business trip. I know it’s silly, but I can’t help but think he’s going to make some sort of grand gesture before he departs. Not proposing, but I can dream. We’ve been together for almost two years and I often find myself fantasizing about weddings, which is extremely unlike me.

  I take my time as I pick at each cuticle. We were supposed to meet five minutes ago. After what seems like an eternity, his white Mercedes pulls into the parking lot and he steps out of the car.

  My heart does one of those cliché things where it skips a beat. He had loosened his tie and rolled his sleeves up to three quarters, and I can’t get over how good he looks after a full day of work. Even with how handsome he looks, I can tell he’s stressed from work.

  I wave at him. While he often looks stressed, he relaxes when he sees me. He doesn’t today, which is strange, but I chalk it up to extra work.

  “Hi.” I smile at him as he approaches me.

  “Hey.”

  I outstretch my arms for a hug that’s half-reciprocated, and I can’t help but feel a small bit rejected at the lack of affection. “Work really has you stressed out.”

  “It does,” he says.

  There’s an awkward pause. Normally he starts the conversation, because he’s a talker and I’m a listener, and that is how our relationship has always worked.

  “So,” I start. “Thanks for making time for me before you leave. I’m glad I could see you.”

  “Yeah.” His gaze won’t meet mine and instead falls on the dimming sky.

  The butterflies in my stomach begin to flutter for a different reason. Something is wrong. Nathan is callous—as am I, which is why we get along—so this must be work related and not a personal matter.

  “Will you be gone longer than expected?” I ask.

  “The same amount of time,” he replies.

  I guess I need to ask directly. “What’s wrong?”

  He shifts from one foot to another. “I just…think we should see other people.”

  Everything in the world stops. He’s The One. My Prince Charming. We’re going to live happily ever after—how is it possible he feels this way?

  “What?” It’s all I can say. Nothing makes sense anymore.

  Nathan can’t even look me in the eyes. “It was great, but I don’t think we’re right for each other.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Don’t cry, Natalie.”

  “You know I don’t cry.”

  I took a deep breath and regain my composure. Although we have been together for almost two years, I refuse to let Nathan Flanagan see me upset.

  “Yeah, I do,” he says.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You barely have emotions. And—” He stops himself.

  “And what, Nathan?”

  “You’re not adventurous.”

  Not adventurous. I can’t get over the irony of a lawyer saying that to an accountant.

  My glare could probably freeze hell. “Your point?”

  “It’s boring. I want to do new things.”

  “Then you should have asked me to do new things.” I sound cold, but my insides are burning with a rage I didn’t know existed.

  Not once in our relationship did he indicate he wanted to try something new. If he asked, I would have done it for him.

  “I don’t want to have to ask,” he says.

  “I’m not a mind reader.”

  “Whatever, Natalie. I need to pack for my trip.” He starts towards his car without giving me the chance to say anything else.

  I want to run after him and beg him to stay with me. If he wants me to be more adventurous, I will, he just needs to tell me what to do. I want to tell him everything I never had in our relationship—that I saw us getting married and spending the rest of our lives together. But I’d never do something like that.

  So, I watch him walk away, his suit rippling in the wind.

  * * *

  “I don’t get it. I’m plenty adventurous!” I say.

  “When it comes to creating excel spreadsheets, sure,” Michaela’s voice comes from the other end.

  She’s been my best friend since undergrad. Logically, our friendship shouldn’t have happened. Most of my peers spent their time at frat parties getting trashed—Michaela included—while I had my nose buried in a textbook. Getting into Stanford had been hard, and I wasn’t going to screw it up by letting my grades slip. I somehow ended up at a frat party one night, and Michaela was there. Our friendship started with a keg, shoe, and broken lip gloss. But that’s a story for another day.

  “You’re supposed to be on my side here!” I whine.

  “I am on your side! I’m also telling you it’s not a personality trait you have.”

  “It’s not like he’s adventurous. He’s a lawyer for god’s sake.”

  “I’ve never seen you this angry. All the logic has left your brain. It’s a bit weird, to be honest.”

  “That’s because I’ve only gotten this angry twice before.”

  I can only recall two times that I’ve been mad. The first was during my sophomore year in college, when Michaela had thought it would be hysterical to get me drunk. She fed me jungle juice all night and I was so trashed I tried to fight the biggest guy at the frat house. I don’t talk about the second time.

  “Exactly. Please revert back to logical Natalie.”

  “She’s out right now,” I say. “I’m totally capable of being adventurous.”

  “Prove it.”

  “I will.”

  “Mark and I are going to a club on Friday. It’s a bit,” she pauses. “Different.”

  “Different as in?”
<
br />   “If you’re trying to be adventurous, shouldn’t it be a surprise?” she muses.

  “Fine.”

  “So, we’ll meet up at 9ish?” Michaela says.

  “Sounds good.”

  “See you then.”

  My journey to become adventurous started a few minutes ago but is already proving to be difficult. I approach everything from a logical perspective. Answers are black or white, yes or no, or answered by a real number. There are no ‘grey’ areas.

  Screw Nathan. I’m going out and am going to be the most adventurous person in that club.

  I’d later learn going was a terrible mistake.

  Chapter Two

  Natalie

  Michaela doesn’t even bother filtering her chatter for the Uber driver. “Vertigo is a bit, y’know, freaky,” she says.

  “Weirdos go there?” I say, horrified.

  “Uh, not exactly. I meant freaky as in…a sexual way.”

  “You’re taking me to a sex club?!” I screech.

  Now I understand why she wouldn’t tell me where we are going until I was safely locked in the car. I look down at the handle and consider yanking it open, but we’re going about sixty-five miles per hour. Tuck and roll probably won’t work at this speed.

  “No!” She tries to reassure me. “It just has sexual aspects, y’know?”

  “No. No, I don’t know what you mean.”

  My imagination begins to run wild with possibilities. I’ve—embarrassingly—read a lot of erotica, and I picture getting whipped when I ask for a drink.

  “Like, there are girls on trapezes who are naked. And the waiters and waitresses are pretty much naked.”

  “Oh,” I reply.

  “See? You can handle it.”

  “I really don’t know if she can though.” Mark turns around in the passenger seat.

  Mark and Michaela met senior year of college. To be honest, I thought it was pure lust between them, but I had been wrong. Mark asked Michaela to marry him two years later.

  “Quiet, Mark!” Michaela demands.

  “Just my opinion. Sorry, Natalie.”

  “It’s fine.” I say.

  It’s not like he’s wrong. I should have stayed home. I could have blamed it on work—it’s not uncommon for me to stay past eight.

  “Don’t listen to Mark,” Michaela says. “You want to be more adventurous, right? Well this is your first step. Because fuck Nathan.”

  Fuck Nathan. I’m scared as hell to enter that club, but my desire to spite him burns stronger.

  Michaela runs her hand through her thick strawberry-blonde hair and gives me a smile. “You ready?”

  The saliva in my mouth evaporates and my throat starts to constrict. I shake my head in a circular motion, caught somewhere between a yes and no.

  “I’ll take that as a yes!” She grabs my hand and pulls me out of the car.

  * * *

  My pupils dilate as they search for light in the darkness of the club. A strobe light flashes, and they quickly shrink back to size. The burst of light illuminates the girls suspended from the ceiling, baring everything as they contort their bodies.

  Michaela keeps holding my hand as she leads me through the club, but I’m not sure how she sees anything. My senses were impaired the moment I walked in—my body feels strange. I have a cold sweat pooling on the back of my neck even though the club’s AC is blasting. I reach my free hand to wipe it away. More pools up and replaces it.

  There are an innumerable number of speakers surrounding the DJ. I know the club’s music is blasting, but it’s just a small echo inside my head.

  The only thing I can do is put my trust in Michaela as she leads me through the throng of people. There’s no way I’ll be able to guide myself. We sit down at a booth after what feels like an eternity.

  “Pretty cool, right?”

  “Right…” I echo.

  I think I’ve forgotten how to speak. So far, I don’t find Vertigo “cool” at all. It’s overwhelming my senses and making my heart beat at an abnormally fast pace, and I can’t decide if it’s because of the environment or I chose this moment to have a heart attack.

  Michaela chatters how the club is a hidden gem and doesn’t understand why it’s not the most popular spot in town. I nod, only half absorbing what she’s saying.

  My eyes adjust to the darkness and I start to check out my surroundings. Club goers are flocking around a bar, and I can tell by their body language they are shamelessly flirting with each other. A man has his hand in the open back of a girl’s dress, and it’s inching its way further down.

  I tear my eyes away from them. Perpendicular to the bar is a large dance floor, although what the people are doing on it isn’t dancing. It’s more like sex with their clothes on.

  I try to compose myself by looking upwards and taking a deep breath. My eyes land on one of the naked girls spread eagle on the trapeze.

  “Are you okay?” Michaela’s voice tears me from my thoughts. “You’ve been twitching the entire time we’ve been sitting here.”

  “I’m…going…fine.”

  “Ok,” she responds.

  “I told you it would be too much,” Mark says. “Look at her. She’s about to faint.”

  “She’s fine!” Michaela glares at Mark. “She just needs to adjust to the scenery.”

  Mark raises his eyebrows at Michaela but doesn’t argue.

  I try to remember the last time I had been to a club. Michaela’s bachelorette party? I don’t remember if I had a good time though.

  At twenty-nine years old, being at Vertigo is not a good time.

  “This is different,” I say, forming my first full sentence inside the venue.

  Michaela claps her hands together. “Different! Great way to describe it.”

  I nod in response. My heart is still pumping, but at least it’s slowed down a bit.

  “You still look like you’re about to have a heart attack.” Mark tries to conceal his laughter but fails miserably.

  “I…did you put something in my water bottle earlier?” I wipe another pile of cool sweat that has formed on the back of my neck.

  Mark begins to laugh even harder. “No, that’s just you.”

  “Oh,” I respond.

  “Deep breath in, Natalie.” Michaela says. “Deep breath out.”

  I follow her directions a few times and feel noticeably better.

  “And because fuck Nathan,” she adds.

  Because fuck Nathan. That’s why I’m at Vertigo. And not only to spite him, I also need to step out of my comfort zone. But mostly spite.

  I bring logic into the situation. There’s no reason for me to panic. I’m in a club filled with security guards, and I’m acting like I’m swimming with sharks.

  “You’re right. What am I freaking out about?”

  “See, I knew you were fine.” A devious smile spreads across Michaela’s face. “So, where does your adventurous journey go from here?”

  I bite my lip. All I know is that I want to be more adventurous. I haven’t thought how to implement it.

  “Mmm, no plan?”’ Mark muses.

  “Stop it, Mark! Only I can make fun of Natalie.” She shoots her husband a glare.

  “But what if I have great suggestions?”

  “I suppose you could share those suggestions.”

  “Ok. How about you start by flirting with that”—He points at a man across from us—“guy over there.”

  “Seriously, Mark? You think that’s a great suggestion?” Michaela says.

  “Hey, at least I’m coming up with adventurous ideas. Well, adventurous for Natalie.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” I squeak.

  “Why don’t we get drinks first?” Michaela says.

  This is so embarrassing. Natalie Lane, crusher of the corporate world, take no bullshit from anyone, can’t talk to a random guy at a club. I’ve delivered speeches to rooms of over a hundred people, but the idea of talking to one makes me want to throw up. />
  I nod. Alcohol should help.

  Michaela looks at Mark. “Can you get us drinks?”

  “How many hands do I have, Michaela?”

  “Two, obviously.”

  “How many people are there?”

  She realizes she fell into a trap and scowls at him. “I’ll come with you, my dear husband.”

  I smile to myself as they walk away. They don’t have a dysfunctional relationship with heated fighting. It’s more adorable bickering. Michaela tells me they have great sex after, so I’m sure they’ll be having a good time tonight.

  A bitter taste enters my mouth as I realize I don’t have anyone to do cute things with. Not like Nathan and I did anything like that while we were dating. We went on dinner dates and to charity events.

  Who the fuck does Nathan think he is, saying I’m not adventurous? Tonight will be the time of my life, no matter how much alcohol it takes.

  “Hey.”

  The man who Mark suggested I flirt with is standing in front our table. He’s not bad looking, but not my type. Tattoos run up his muscled biceps and he has a bit of scruff.

  “Um, hi,” I respond.

  “Can I sit with you?”

  I almost say ‘no,’ but recall my silent promise.

  “O-okay.”

  He slides into the booth and sits uncomfortably close to me.

  “How’s your night going?” he asks.

  “It’s…going. What about you?”

  “It’s going well.”

  I nod in response and it creates an awkward pause. I have no idea what to say. It’s like I’ve completely forgotten how to flirt with someone after two years of being in a relationship.

  “They sure look like they’re having fun, eh?” He motions to the orgy going on the dance floor.

  “Oh…yeah.”

  The unnamed man smiles. “I take it you’re not into that.”

  “To put it lightly.”

  “So, what are you into?”

  My stomach twists. The look he’s giving me isn’t flirtatious or friendly. It’s borderline disturbing.

  “What do you mean?” I say.

  “Like BDSM or roleplay. Hopefully nothing illegal, but I can work with it.” He shoots me a smile that makes my skin crawl.