ONE To Watch Me (The ONE Series, Part 1, Book 1)

by Alicia Maxwell

  By the time I get to the office it’s past five. Everyone has left, the lights are dimmed all over the floor—just my father’s office is lit up.

  I head right in, stopping briefly to knock on the door. He answers immediately, and I walk in.

  He is at his monstrosity of a desk, intended to instill respect and fear at the mere sight of him. I ignore it completely and step right up to him.

  “Good evening!” He does not even dignify me with a look, keeping his head down, studying a thick binder of documents.

  “You’ve asked to see me. What’s the urgency?”

  I make an effort to keep my voice leveled and avoid riling him on. His irritation is palpable in the air, but I refuse to be affected. Still not looking up at me, he tosses a yellow manila envelope in my direction. With no other words or gestures from him, I take hold of it. What’s inside? I’m anxious to know, but I won’t show it. Instead, I take my time settling down in one of the guest chairs on my side of the table. Once I’m comfortable, I slowly open the envelope and let its contents slide out onto the spotless surface of his polished, redwood table.

  The air leaves my lungs and I visibly cave in. The table is littered with glossy images of me in Miami with none other than Alex. We are laughing, kissing, holding hands, getting out of the water, relaxing on the beach. It seems like every minute of our time together in public has been documented. I am stunned and speechless. Then I remember feeling eyes on me all the time and realize I wasn’t paranoid, I really was being watched. All my resolve is gone, my head spinning with questions. Why? Who? What now?

  This is the time my father chooses to raise his eyes and give me the filthiest look he can muster. I think I might have shrunk under his glare. His voice comes as a thunderstorm.

  “Care to explain what this is? Did you forget who you are? Did you forget your status in the family and in this company?”

  I gather my wits and can’t think of anything other than to ask why.

  “Why were you spying on me? How dare you?”

  “Don’t you dare question me!” His eyes are blazing with anger, lips pressed in a thin, straight line. I don’t recall ever seeing him this mad.

  “I got these from an anonymous source this morning. Along with a note.” I lower my gaze back to the table in search of something other than photos of me and Alex. The images are spread around, and I spread them out more in search of the note. It is there, white paper, small print in the middle stating simply: Fix this before it becomes public. I repeat it in my mind, trying to decipher what they mean.

  “I’m assuming Matthew has not been enlightened as to your latest escapades. If you’re smart, you will keep your family and your reputation intact.”

  I lift my eyes from the note to look at my father. He has no idea what is going on. Not a clue as to why I went to Miami, or what’s going on between me and Matthew. I take a deep breath and brace myself for the reaction I may get once I share my private life with him.

  “I left Matthew. Before I went to Miami. He has not been faithful to me and I can’t live with that. I have no pictures to show you, but it’s true. Besides, I now realize how empty and unhappy I’ve been these past years. So, there really is nothing to fix.” I finish my monologue and look my father straight in the eye. His face contorts with disgust. He puts his elbows on the table and towers his hands up, connecting the very tips of his fingers one to one, in perfect symmetry. His eyes narrow to further show his displeasure with me.

  “I want to hear none of that nonsense. You have not been faithful yourself, and what’s worse, with the first stranger you met. So now you’re even. Fix this, or you will lose everything. I will not tolerate this in my family, or my company. Your choice. Think wisely, and set your priorities straight. And take this filth out of my sight.”

  I am floored by his reaction. I didn’t expect caring, fatherly concern, but this is outrageous. He cares for no one and nothing but himself and his company. My life, happiness, future do not matter to him, not one bit.

  With shaky hands, I gather all the images and slide them back into the envelope, along with the threatening note. I get up and head to the door. There’s nothing for me to say. It’ll fall on deaf ears anyway. His voice booms from behind my back.

  “Two days, Emily! I will see you back here on Friday, and we’ll take it from there.”

  A tremor runs through my body and I make a hasty retreat. I can’t stay in his presence, breathe the same air any longer. I’m suffocating, both figuratively and literally. Tears are burning the backs of my eyes and a lump forms in my throat. I will not cry here, with the cameras covering every corner of this damn office. I will not grant my father the pleasure of seeing me in tears. My head is up, back straight, pace even as I pass through the hallways of the massive office and head closer to the front door.

  I push the heavy double doors open and quickly descend the front steps, turning right and disappearing around the corner, away from the ever-watchful eye of the security cameras. Only once I’m outside the range do I let out a loud gasp and take a few ragged breaths. I was barely breathing, and I can’t get enough oxygen. The tears roll down my cheeks, and I feel the freezing wind burning my wet skin. I wipe at my cheeks and shiver in the cold. The weather changed drastically while I was inside. The sun has set completely, and a chill took over the city with the help of the infamous Chicago wind. November in its full glory. Thankfully it’s not raining, or even worse, snowing.

  I’m still clutching the envelope in my hands, my fingers freezing in the wind. I tuck it in my bag and call a ride back to the airport. I don’t intend to stay in this city a minute longer.

  On the way to the airport, I call the airline to see if I can switch to an earlier flight. They offer standby on a flight set to leave in just over an hour. If I can make it to the airport fast enough, I still have a chance to be in Miami around midnight.

  I make it to the airport, through security, and to the gate right on time. The poor soul who got stuck somewhere amid the crazy Chicago construction and traffic-ridden streets has afforded me the opportunity for a quick retreat back to the warm paradise of Miami.

  As I get onboard and settle in, my anxiety comes back, but with noticeably less intensity. I remember my last flight to Miami, and realize it wasn’t too bad either. My subconscious must be keeping the anxiety at bay, knowing that better things are ahead.

  As the plane accelerates and takes off, I count my breaths. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four … until we reach altitude. This time there is no serene view to calm my nerves. I am exhausted, mentally and physically. For once, I break my own rules and order a glass of cheap white wine—something to take the edge off. As I’m sipping the cold, sour liquid, I take out the yellow envelope and slowly drag out the photos. My eyes are met by Alex’s crooked smile as he looks at my face in the picture. We are so locked in the moment, so completely oblivious to our surroundings that the freak following us could have snapped a picture right in front of our faces and we wouldn’t have noticed. I flip through a couple more pictures and every time, I’m met with Alex’s eyes, eyes that are completely enthralled by me. That look can’t be faked. It is a pure thing. No pretenses. I study every picture, looking at myself and Alex, analyzing us, our body language, eye contact, smiles, postures. I come to the conclusion we are equally captivated by each other. There is something there, a spark that burns brighter with every more recent picture. The images show simple playfulness slowly evolving into fondness, tenderness, affection… love? Can that really be? Am I in love with Alex? Do I know him well enough to be in love? What about him? Isn’t it too early? Then again, what about love at first sight? I put these thoughts aside. One step at a time.

  What I do realize for certain is that we have something special. Something worth exploring, worth giving a chance to grow bigger, more beautiful. My father and his ultimatums can go to hell. I’m never going back to Matthew. I wish I’d had this resolve when I was in his office today; it would ha
ve saved me a trip on Friday. Anyway, I’ll fly to Chicago again and end this discussion once and for all. We’ll cross the t’s and dot the i’s. I’m suspecting I will leave the meeting a free, unburdened woman, with no home or job. But isn’t that what I wanted all along? Whoever decided to follow me had done me a favor, really…

  As I down the rest of my wine, I feel warm and buzzed. I realize I haven’t eaten all day.

  The descent is smooth, or so it seems, with wine flowing in my blood. I step out of the plane and move unsteadily toward the exit signs. Good job Emmeline! You’re tipsy after a single glass of wine. Lightweight!

  I’m smiling to myself, my mood drastically better after the flight and setting foot on Floridian soil. I request a ride home and exit the terminal gates. Such a blessing to travel without luggage.

  As promised, a silver Volvo shows up in minutes. I climb in and relax against soft leather seats that still smell new. Such a difference from the yellow cabs. The driver is a quiet, older gentleman, and I appreciate the silence.

  We arrive at the building I’ve been calling home for almost a week in less than half an hour. I’m still a little tipsy and totally beat. It’s been a long day.

  Upstairs, I open the door with my card, finding the place exactly as I left it in the morning. I’m hungry but have no energy to eat. I drop my bag in the closet, grab a newly purchased lacy night gown and head straight to the shower. Five minutes later my face meets the pillows. I can still smell a hint of Alex on my sheets. Nuzzling my face into them, I inhale deeply. His scent invades me and I blissfully fall asleep.

  Fifteen

  I dream of Alex, his gentle hands, soft lips, blue eyes, half-smile. The pictures I was looking at on the plane mix with real memories of the times when they were taken. The walk down memory lane is filled with such utter happiness I think I even smile in my sleep, wrapped in sheets that have Alex’s unmistakable scent all over them.

  I am at the beach, picking shells, finding myself in the dark, looking for my way home. It’s too dark, and I lose my sense of direction, lose the trail I was following. It’s too dark, even the moon is gone. Panic settles over me, and my breathing becomes erratic. I start running ahead, but there’s nothing, nowhere to go. I strain my eyes to try and see the streetlights, or the moon, or anything at all. Suddenly, I’m face-to-face with my attacker, his eyes raging with hatred, his hot breath on my face. I’m numb, frozen by fear. I can’t break eye contact with him. Those eyes—predatory, familiar eyes. Are they my father’s? As I focus, I realize they belong to Matthew. They’re filled with the same contempt and disgust my father’s were.

  “Now be a good little girl and show me how you love me.”

  I’m still paralyzed by fear when he orders sharply, “Get on your knees! Now!”

  I hear the sound of a zipper opening; he must be working his fly. Tears flow down my face, I’m shaking vigorously in refusal, still not able to speak.

  “Get on your knees and suck my dick, now! Show me what I’ve taught you.”

  His heavy hands push down on my shoulders, and I can’t withstand the weight. I’m pushed down, lower, until I’m eye-level with his waist, on my knees, crying and shaking my head no. He grabs the back of my head as he works to release himself from the confines of his trousers. I push back, straining to scream. Silence. His hand pushes down the underwear and finally, it comes out: a loud, hysterical, soul-tearing scream that wakes me up.

  I gasp in the air, still feeling hands pulling me. My body thrashes, and I scream again and again. A weight is settled over my body. I need to break free. I cry and jerk violently, energy leaving me, defeat all too close and familiar.

  “It’s a dream, just a bad dream, wake up Angel.”

  Gentle hands hold my head, soft lips sprinkle feathery kisses over my tear-streaked cheeks, and a familiar voice whispers softly in my ear.

  I stop fighting his hold, peel my eyes open, and attempt to focus on his pain-stricken face. Alex is here, rescuing me from my nightmares, yet again.

  He must see the change in my expression, and his hold on me loosens, the weight of his body lifted from mine. I hug his back and push him back onto me. I need to feel his weight, to keep our bodies in contact. It chases the nightmare away. I hold onto him tight, breathing him in, unable to say anything, feeling so ashamed he saw me having a nightmare again.

  Alex is quiet, letting me calm down from my hysterical state. As if sensing I need the silence, he says nothing. He just holds me. His face is tucked in the crook of my neck. He is breathing into my skin, suckling lightly at the pulsating vein at my throat. My hands start moving on their own accord, running slow circles over his back, pulling at his T-shirt and sliding under it to get to his skin.

  Lifting up just barely, Alex gives me enough room to pull his T-shirt over his head, his hot, naked body settling right back into place.

  I still feel disturbed by my dream. I need to erase those images from my mind, replace them with something solid, emotionally strong, pleasant.

  I act on instinct. I shift under Alex’s steel-hard body and he lifts up slightly, giving me room to breathe. I push him off me and climb on top of him. We switch places, so now I lay on top. His hands slide slowly from my shoulders down to my butt, circling the round globes and going back up on their journey to my neck.

  I nuzzle into Alex’s neck and cover it with wet kisses, running my tongue over his skin. He inhales deeply, and I feel the pace of his heartbeat quicken. My lips begin a slow trip down the familiar, chiseled body, paying attention to every crevice and committing it to memory. I move painfully slowly down his torso, on my mission to get lower and lower until I’m finally at the threshold of his underwear. Alex’s cock is barely restrained by the soft material. I run my hand over it, feeling the thick, ridged surface.

  Alex exhales a shaky breath, taking a few more ragged ones. He is affected. In fact, he can barely contain himself. Giving me all the power is pushing him to the limit. Once again, I wonder how he knows I need this so desperately.

  I pull his boxers down, effectively removing all restraints from his raging erection. Once freed, his cock is up in all of its beautiful glory. I take it in my hand and push down to reveal the glistening head. Alex grunts, and I continue my assault on his flesh. Sliding down between his knees, I wrap two hands around his length and start working him up and down. He grunts and tries to push away my hands.

  "Easy there, Angel."

  I smile devilishly and lower my lips to his swollen head. I don't take it all in, just kissing the tip and running my tongue around the mushroom top. He pushes his arms into the pillow and I see his muscle bulging. I blow some air on his wet head, and he bucks his hips up to reach my lips. I pull away, just out of reach.

  Having mercy on him, I lower my lips and take his head into my mouth. A loud, animalistic sound comes out, and I marvel at the effect I have on him.

  My hands work his length while my mouth is sucking on his head. Then I take his cock in, pushing his head all the way into my throat. He’s so huge I have to fight tears gathering in my eyes.

  I take his balls in my palm and knead them lightly. Finding the perfect sensitive spot under his scrotum, I run one finger along it, back and forth. That does it. Alex's cock becomes rock hard in my mouth, and I know he’s so close. I apply more pressure with both my mouth and my fingers.

  "Oh Angel, Emmeline, my Eline!"

  His hips buck up and push harder into my mouth as he comes violently, hot liquid running down my throat, pump after pump, relieving himself. His hips jerk up each time. I take every last drop of his juice and let go when he is completely exhausted and has nothing left.

  I lift my head to see him splayed on the bed, eyes rolled back, limbs powerless. I smile at what I’ve done to him.

  Crawling up his body, I straddle him once again and kiss his lips. He kisses me lazily, as if trying to find strength within himself.

  “Thank you for letting me do this. I really needed it,” I whisper in his ear
, settling on top of him.

  My fingertips trace lines along his jawline and neck, going up into his wavy hair. Long lashes cover half-open eyes, and his smile calls the Cheshire Cat to mind.

  "Wow, this was unreal."

  That’s all the confirmation I need. I’m at peace. My eyelids are heavy and I close them knowing I am in strong hands, safe and protected.

  Sleep takes me in minutes. As I drift off, I hear Alex’s breathing evening out, sleep taking him right along with me.

  Sixteen

  I wake up with a start, cold and shaking. The room is dark. The blanket is bunched up next to me in an otherwise empty bed. Reluctantly, I get up to search for Alex. My feet meet the icy cold, marble-tiled floor and another shiver runs through my body. I hope he just couldn't sleep and needed some water. Thinking he might have left me in the middle of the night is just painful. The question is nagging in the back of mind. What if it was too much? The nightmares are a repulsive beast.

  I move through the condo without turning on the lights. The glow filtering in from the building across provides enough illumination. The bathroom is empty, as are the kitchen and living room. I feel a pang of disappointment stabbing at my heart. As I’m turning back to the bedroom, I see Alex's silhouette on the balcony, leaning over the rails, clutching his head with both hands. He looks crushed, like he’s holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. I hate to be responsible for this. Last time, my nightmare stirred up some nasty old memories in him. Is he in that place again? Reliving the terror of being kidnapped?