Mirage

by Alice Tribue

  “Why is it so crazy, Vic? He saved your ass. He was supposed to put you away, and instead, he let you go. If it weren’t for him, you’d be in jail right now. We’d probably both be in jail.”

  She’s right. He saved me and I owe him for that, but he also lied. He made me fall in love with him knowing the whole time that he was only going to break my heart. He knew we were living a lie, and he said nothing. I know I’m guilty of the same thing, but the difference is that I never set out to hurt him. In fact, I took steps to make things better, to free myself of the things that would have damaged our relationship.

  “I have to tell you something.”

  I pause and brace myself because when Ivy has to tell me something, it’s rarely good news.

  “What? I don’t think I can handle any more surprises, Ivy. Please don’t piss me off.”

  “I think that the reason I wasn’t brought in for questioning is because Rick and I became kind of friendly.”

  “The fake security guard?” I probe, furrowing my brow. “Oh, that’s just great. How friendly?”

  “As friendly as you can get with a man.”

  “Ivy!” I yell in disbelief.

  “What? I didn’t know he was a cop.”

  “Well, has he been in touch with you since yesterday?”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “He won’t answer my calls.”

  “I guess we both got played.”

  “Sucks… he was really good in bed.”

  “I’ve heard enough. You don’t even know the guy’s real name. Just chalk it up to another one-night stand.”

  “Only it wasn’t one night, it was more like five or six nights.”

  “Slut,” I chastise, thinking that it’s just par for the course. We both were mixed up with the wrong man; it wasn’t the first time, just the worst time.

  ***

  I told my father to go home, told him that it was over, and that he had nothing to worry about. I know it wasn’t easy for him to comply, but he did. The look of disappointment on his face broke my heart, but only time can fix things between us now. Tonight, when I cry, I want to cry in peace. I want to be free to cry as ugly and as loudly as I want. That’s exactly what I do; I lay in my bed and give myself permission to cry for everything that went wrong and for losing the dream that had started to take shape in my head and my heart. My eyes are swollen and sore by the time I finally fall asleep.

  I’m laying low because even though I’ve been told no charges will be filed against me, I’m understandably a little paranoid. For this reason, I’ve decided to work from home for the next few days. This also allows me to have as little human contact as possible right now. I just can’t handle social encounters right now so when my doorbell rings, I instantly go on alert. What the fuck do I have a doorman for, I think to myself as I answer the door.

  “Miss Powell.” A young woman no older than twenty or so stands there with a bright smile on her face.

  “Yes,” I answer hesitantly.

  “I have a delivery for you,” she says handing me a paper bag and a cardboard cup holder filled with coffee and tea.

  “What is this?”

  “Breakfast, ma’am.”

  “I know what it is. I mean, who sent it?”

  “Oh, there’s a card inside the bag.”

  “Hang on. I’ll get you a tip.”

  “It’s already been taken care of, ma’am, have a nice day.”

  “Thank you.” I close the door, walking over to my kitchen and placing everything on the countertop. I dig through the bag and find a folded notecard inside.

  If I can’t take you to work anymore, I can still buy you breakfast.

  Call me,

  Nathan.

  I shake my head, thinking back to the beginning. How he would bring me pastries and coffee every morning, or take me to the bakery before work, when he was trying to woo me. Now, I know he was just trying to gather information about me. I tell myself that this is just another technique he’s using to manipulate me. Another tactic to break me down so that he can hurt me again. Well, this time I’m not falling for it. This time my defenses are mounted too high because, in this war, one more blow from him could be fatal for me.

  I sit in my office with my coffee and pastries and fire up my computer. Technically, this is the first day of my new life. No rich, entitled clients, no girls to keep in line, and I actually feel relieved. I feel lighter because finally, finally after all of these years, a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

  Breakfast comes like clockwork every day for the next five days though no more notes have arrived. By the time Sunday rolls around, I’m almost disappointed that I haven’t heard from Nathan again. I remind myself that I don’t want to hear from him again. I remind myself that our relationship is over and that we’ll never be together again. I’m good with that because it’s the way things have to be. So why have I cried myself to sleep every single night?

  ***

  “You never called me,” a familiar voice in my ear wakes me. I gasp in both fear and astonishment, moving to jump out of the bed but I’m pulled back down.

  “Relax, it’s just me.”

  I do the exact opposite, my entire body tensing up at the sight of him. “Nathan, what the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Did you get my note?”

  “What note?”

  “With breakfast,” he sighs. “I told you to call me.”

  “Are you serious? How did you even get in here?”

  His lips tip up in a smile. “Your doorman just lets me up now. He thinks we’re dating, remember?”

  “Great. How’d you get inside the apartment?”

  “You need a new hiding place for your key.”

  “Get off me.” I put my hands on his chest and push, but he just grabs them, using his strength to pin me down. “What are you doing? Let me go.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “We already went over everything. There’s nothing left to talk about.”

  “There’s a lot left to talk about.”

  “Like what?” I ask with a roll of my eyes.

  “Like the fact that I love you and you love me.”

  Pettiness gets the best of me as I amend his statement. “Loved.”

  “I see you’re still lying to yourself.”

  “You’re the liar here.”

  “Right. Because you’re a fucking pillar of honesty and morality.”

  “Get. Out,” I yell, lifting my head to get in his face, but he doesn’t take the bait. My invitation for an argument goes unanswered. He stares at me and asks quietly.

  “What are we going to do, Tori? What are we going to do with all this shit between us?”

  The sincerity in his eyes hits me hard. It makes me want to wrap my arms around him and hold on for as long as I can, but nothing has changed. I’m still too hurt to get past what’s happened; it’s all too fresh, the wounds unhealed.

  “We’re doing it. We’re moving on.”

  “That’s what you’re doing, but not me. I understand that you felt blindsided, I get that I hurt you, baby, but I did what I had to do and I risked everything to protect you.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then why can’t you let us move forward?”

  “I don’t know; I just can’t. There’s too much hurt, too many lies, yours and mine, and it’s just too messy.”

  “Life is messy. It gets ugly; you know that more than anybody does. But, babe, wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t have to go through that shit alone?”

  “Not if the person you’re with is the reason it’s messy,” I counter.

  “Your shit was messy before I ever walked in your life.” I open my mouth in rebuttal, but he cuts me off. “We could do this all night. We could battle about this all night, but I don’t want to fight with you.”

  His lips graze my ear and a flick of his tongue sends my pulse into overdrive.

  “I’d rather love you,” he says, kissing a trail do
wn my neck. He knows me, knows how to use my body against me, and once he gets me started, it’s so hard to stop.

  “Nathan.”

  He ignores me, continuing to kiss my neck to my collarbone. He releases my wrists, trusting that I won’t push him away. I don’t. A finger grazes the strap of my top, gently pushing it down, replacing it with his lips. God, that feels good, I think to myself as I unwillingly let a whimper escape from my lips. He takes that as my willingness for him to continue, and if I'm totally honest, I don’t want him to stop. I want him to make me feel good again after days of feeling nothing but miserable.

  His hands grip my waist, and I scream when he flips me over onto my stomach, pulling me back so that my ass is up, and my face is down in the mattress. The crack of his hand on my backside breaks into the quiet of the night.

  “Yes,” I cry, unable to deny how good it feels. Shit, this is so bad. I should stop him, I know, but his hands on me are just too good.

  “Every time you try to push me away, when you try to convince yourself that you don’t love me, remember the way I make you feel,” he says, pushing my underwear to the side and slipping a finger inside me.

  “Nathan,” I call for him again, hating him and loving him at the same time as his finger starts to move inside of me. His other hand on my back holds me in place, exactly where he wants me to be.

  “You want me to slide my finger out of you? Push my cock in instead? Would that make you feel better, baby?”

  I moan my response, pushing my hips back in order to get him in deeper. Only his finger is gone and I’m rewarded with another slap on the ass.

  “Answer me.”

  “Yes,” I cry, not caring anymore if it goes against everything I’ve said. If it makes me a hypocrite, I just don’t care.

  He grinds his crotch against my backside, and I love it. I enjoy the delicious pleasure that the feel of him gives me, even if there is a layer of clothing separating us.

  “God, Nathan, please. Please.”

  “Please, what?”

  “Please, fuck me,” I beg.

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.” He lets me go, reaching over to my nightstand for something. When he finds whatever it is, he tosses it with a thud onto the bed and climbs off.

  “What are you doing?” I push myself up into a sitting position, eyeing the vibrator that he just threw on my bed.

  “You don’t need me, remember? You don’t need anyone. Maybe that can finish the job I started,” he snickers, pointing to the vibrator.

  “I hate you,” I spit out, grateful for the cloud of darkness in the room so he can’t see the embarrassment creeping up my cheeks.

  “Keep telling yourself that,” he calls as he slams the door to my bedroom, leaving me alone with a vibrator and a bruised ego.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  It’s been three days since Nathan/Eric left me in a state of frustration, and I haven’t been able to get any relief. My vibrator broke when I hurled it at the door after he left. And my hand? It’s just not as good as anything he could do to me. I had Ivy book me a massage at the spa in hopes of relieving some of this God-awful tension. I lay here facedown, having been instructed to undress and get under the blanket, waiting for my masseuse. My eyes struggle to stay open, the light from the flickering candles acting as a hypnotic of sorts.

  The clicking sound of the door opening brings me back into the moment. The blanket that’s covering me is folded and lowered so that my entire back is now uncovered. I inhale a long breath when I feel the warm oil hit my back, and as the masseuse’s hands start to work it into my shoulders, I swear I must’ve died and gone to heaven. The pressure he applies to my back is perfect; I can feel my muscles loosening and my body starting to relax with every gentle stroke of his hands.

  A moan escapes from my mouth when he moves to my legs, focusing on each of my calves then moving up to my thighs. I’m relishing the moment, enjoying how the touch of his hands feel on me when his hands travel up higher massaging my buttocks. My eyes go wide, and I’m becoming weary, trying to recall if I’ve ever had a massage where this part of my body gets attention. I mean his hands are dangerously close to the no-go zone…dangerously.

  I gasp when his fingers dip between my folds. I try to get up, thinking about the asshole who’s about to get fired, but I’m held in place by a hand pressed against the center of my spine. Years of self-defense classes run through my head as a gentle kiss is placed on my shoulder blade.

  “Do you need a happy ending, baby?”

  “Nathan,” I say, relieved that it’s him, and at the same time, angry that he’s here. “What the fuck are you doing here and where is my masseuse?”

  “Shh, you’re too tense. You need to relax.” He alternates slipping his finger inside of me with removing it and running the tip of it along the rim of my vagina.

  “Nathan, you have to stop doing th…” The words get lost in my throat when his finger begins to massage my clit. I grip the sides of the table as my traitorous body begins to react to his touch. Whore. I mentally yell at myself for succumbing so easily to his evil ways. Shit, I’m supposed to hate him, I’m supposed to not want him, and even though my mind has made up its mind, my body is having a hard time catching up.

  I watch as Nathan reaches for the massage oil, pouring a generous amount into the palm of his hand and massaging me with it, making my pussy extremely slippery and very wet. I feel it coming on; he’s taking me to the brink, taking me closer with every stroke of his hand. Just as I’m about to reach the finish line, Nathan pulls his hand away.

  “Oh, my God, don’t stop,” I cry, panting as he leaves my body hanging with uncoiled tension.

  “Shit. I’m sorry, babe, I thought I heard someone coming,” he apologizes before placing a kiss on my hipbone. “You want me to try that again?”

  He’s got me right where he wants, using my body as a tool to bring me to the point of insanity. He wants me to beg him, and I’ll be damned if I give him the satisfaction.

  “I think you’ve done enough.” The blanket that was barely covering me before is now acting as a robe.

  “Suit yourself.” He grins, wiping his hands down on a towel.

  “You need to stop doing this.”

  He furrows his brow feigning a look of innocence. “What’s that?”

  “Showing up to places uninvited. I made it clear that I didn’t want to see you again, yet here you are.” I toss out a hand in exasperation.

  “After the other night, I wasn’t sure if you meant that.”

  “I did mean it; I’ve meant it every time I’ve said it.”

  He smirks then looks down at the ground. “Then why do you keep letting me touch you?”

  “Like you ask for my permission, you just do it.”

  “You don’t stop me.”

  “Please, Nathan. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

  “I’m just trying to remind you of how you feel about me because it doesn’t matter how many times your brain denies it, your body wants me. Your body knows me.”

  I stare at him, considering his words, knowing that a certain amount of truth is behind them, but I’m still too stubborn to accept what’s right in front of me.

  “I can’t, I’m sorry.” The familiar feeling of sadness creeps up and takes hold of me, settling in. The look of hurt on his face is not lost on me.

  “I’ll let you get dressed,” he says with a jut of his chin, and as quickly as he came, he’s gone.

  ***

  I haven't been able to forget the look on Nathan’s face when I’d told him I didn’t want to be with him last week. It’s not the first time I’ve told him that, but he looked genuinely hurt this time, or maybe it’s the first time I’ve actually taken the time to notice. The truth of the matter is that I haven’t been able to get him out of my head at all. Some days, I wonder whether I’m keeping him at arms’ length because I’m still upset, or if I'm just stubborn. Sometimes, I think it’s easier to be alone
than to deal with all of the drama that comes with love because love is rarely just as simple as two people living happily ever after.

  A couple of days ago, I called Jackson to see if he and Sage would like to have dinner with me. We’ve made plans to see each other several times in the last few weeks, but since finding out that they were expecting twins, Sage has been battling bouts of morning sickness. She’s finally feeling well enough to come out, and I’m grateful for it. I’ve found that filling my evenings with work and friends is the best way to curb the urge to call Nathan. God, I’m so weak.

  I let the hostess know I’m meeting someone and she kindly escorts me to the table. As I follow her, the table comes into view, a table that holds not two but three other people. I freeze, literally freeze, unable to move at the sight of Nathan sitting with Jackson and Sage sharing a drink and a laugh. What the fuck?

  “Ma’am, are you okay?”

  The seating hostess is in front of me, probably wondering why I’m looking like I’ve just seen a ghost. I cut my gaze back to her and force myself to move.

  “Yes, sorry, my heel must have gotten stuck in something,” I tell her with a smile. “I see my party; I’ve got it from here, thank you.”

  I walk past her with a steely determination, ready to send Nathan right back to where he came from. I’m through playing these silly games. I’m never going to move on, never going to really be able to get over him, if he doesn’t leave me alone. But that’s the thing about Nathan, he always seems to be one step ahead of me, anticipating my next move, ready to disarm me. He catches me off guard, giving me a brilliant smile when he catches sight of me.

  “Hey, baby,” he calls, standing from his chair. Reaching me before I have a chance to respond, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me hard. Christ, I hate him for constantly doing this to me, turning my body against me. Mostly, I hate myself for not putting up a fight, not even a tiny one. I just stand there becoming a willing participant in his stupid game of seduction.

  “I missed you,” he says, when he finally lets me go, the wicked gleam in his eyes that I’m becoming all too accustomed to lately is there, taunting me as he smiles down at me.