Relinquish

by M. N. Forgy

  “I’m not sure where my mother is,” I answer honestly. Landon slows his lead, causing us to stop dancing. He slides his hand behind my head and pulls gently on my hair, making me look upward.

  “You really don’t have anybody, do you?” he mumbles, little wrinkles etching his handsome face. I slide my tongue over my bottom lip, the feel of his hand in my hair clouding the reminder of my abandonment.

  Landon sighs, his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he looks at me with longing. That scar right above his lip stands out along his tanned skin. In one swift motion, he slams his lips onto mine, his hand tangling itself deeper into my hair.

  His tongue caresses my bottom lip before sweeping between them. My senses are lost, and the music is drawn out. I reach one hand behind his neck, the other caressing the scruff on his cheeks. The whiskers rubbing along the pads of my fingers feel divine. I want Landon like this every day.

  He slowly pulls his lips away, allowing me to catch my breath as he trails his nose down my jawline. His hands slide from my hair down my chest, greedily grabbing my clothed breasts before continuing their journey to my hips.

  “If you were mine, you would never feel alone again, Charlie,” he whispers against the skin of my neck, giving it a slight nip. His fingers bunch the material of my dress in his palm, hiking it up my thighs. He grabs behind my knees and lifts one leg, wrapping it around his waist and leaving my bare hip exposed. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows heavily, looking between our bodies.

  “Pretend?” I pant, knowing this is where we pretend to be normal, act as if we’re not obligated to hate each other. That we’re ordinary people who want to be together. He slides his palm over my thigh, the feeling of his hand so close to my pussy causing my core to throb.

  He nods, his breath heavy as his hand travels between my legs, a finger trailing up my inner thigh. My body breaks out in a sea of goose bumps as a shiver spreads through my limbs.

  I moan, arching myself into him, so desperately ready for him to take me. His fingers find my panties, my pussy throbbing so hard I can feel it pulsing through my lower half. He pulls the fabric to the side and deftly slides a finger through my wetness. I buck against him, so wound up I can’t contain my reaction. An uncontrollable moan leaves my lips from his touch.

  “I could watch you come undone by my touch every day, Charlie,” he growls, resting his forehead against mine, his finger giving another quick swipe against my heat.

  “Yes, please. Don’t let go,” I whimper, not wanting him to stop. I never want him to leave my side, the fear of losing his warmth an isolation I can’t bear anymore.

  The doors to the ballroom creak, causing Landon to pull from me quickly. My world spinning with lust, I nearly fall on my face from his sudden departure.

  “Landon, Father is waiting for our scheduled meeting.” I glance over and see Roman leaning against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets and a wolfish grin across his face. His shirt is untucked and his hair is messed up like the last time I saw him. He’s the opposite of Landon, that’s for sure.

  “Yeah, I’ll be there,” Landon bellows, his voice sounding on the edge of angry.

  “Right,” Roman remarks, eyeing me and then Landon before leaving.

  “You need to keep tension in your arms.” Landon reaches behind my back and pushes my posture upright with force. “Keep it locked,” he demands, his tone taking more of an edge. I sigh. Here comes the mask to Landon’s emotions. The reminder of my reality. I’m just the whore. I feel like I’m nothing to him, and that makes my heart combust with rage.

  “Keep practicing,” Landon mumbles, walking away. A whimper falls from my lips as that worthlessness creeps back into my limbs.

  “Landon!” I yell, stopping him just before he reaches the doors. He turns his head, looking at me from the corner of his eyes.

  “I-” I stammer. “Don’t go.”

  Landon looks at the doors, then slowly turns.

  “It’s not real, Charlie. It can only last for a few minutes before the reality of what we are, who we are, and what we stand for in this world comes into focus.”

  I let out a sob, his words taking a direct hit to my heart. I’ve felt alone in my life; not having a family or friends caused that. But I never feel more alone than I do after Landon pins his mask of darkness over his emotions and leaves me in a heaping mess of hopelessness.

  I close my eyes and sigh. “I’m done,” I whisper, looking down at the floor. The words leaving my lips cause my stomach to sink.

  “What?” Landon growls.

  I whip my gaze from the floor to him and glare.

  “I’m. Done.” I grit, anger fueling my temper. “Find another one of your whores to play make-believe with.”

  Landon’s face goes pale and falls lax with my words.

  “I can’t do this anymore. You know, you once told me I deserved so much better. Remember? The night it was just us in the hotel?” I straighten my spine and lift my chin. “You’re right, Landon. I do deserve better. I deserve better than you.”

  Landon’s face turns red, his brows clenching inward as he stomps toward me. My heart panics with a racing beat.

  The double doors swing open and Roman returns.

  “Landon, everyone is still waiting,” Roman informs in annoyance. Landon doesn’t stop his strides toward me, and my knees tremble with the need to buckle in fear from the furious look on his face.

  He grabs my forearm, pulling me toward him with haste, not caring that Roman is watching.

  “What did you just say to me?” he seethes.

  “You heard me,” I hiss, my words holding more courage than I actually have at the moment.

  “You. Belong. To. Me,” Landon grits, his fingers digging into my flesh. My eyes go wide and my mouth parts. I’m not a toy. I’m a human, and I have feelings and wants in life, regardless of what some pimp may think.

  “My body might belong to you, but my heart never will,” I whimper, my tone giving away my cracking emotions.

  “Landon!” Roman hollers.

  Landon looks over his shoulder. “I said I’ll be there!” Landon barks. Roman throws his hands up in surrender and backs out of the room.

  Landon looks at me, his face slowly turning into a sly smile. “You don’t actually believe that, do you? That your heart doesn’t belong to me?”

  My eyes widen as my mouth parts, self-doubt filling my chest. Does my heart belong to Landon? Do I care about him, about us? Is this love that I’m feeling or just lust? I mask my emotions, glare back at him and scoff, making him dig his fingers into my arm harder.

  Landon flings my arm back at me and strides toward the doors, picking his jacket up off the floor as he does so.

  “Why?” I scream, causing Landon to stop just before pushing the doors open. “Why do you act like you care about me? That you want to run away with me in our own world one second, but in a blink of an eye you act as if you can’t look at me? That you hate me?” I sob, tears filling my eyes.

  Landon shakes his head, not even looking at me.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” he mumbles under his breath. With all the emotions swirling through me, I almost didn’t hear it.

  As soon as Landon leaves and the double doors close, I clench my fists and scream. Angry because Landon just made me realize I do care about him, about us. And he only cares about himself.

  The ache in my chest creeps through my body, making a violent sob escape my lips. I’m alone. I was before, I am now, and I will be tomorrow. I used to think I could take the little bits of care Landon gave me before, but now that I’ve had a taste of what it feels like to be in the warmth of his arms, I can’t take those scraps anymore. I can’t bear the cold feeling I get when I’m not with him. I need all of him, or nothing at all.

  SEVENTEEN

  LANDON

  “Landon, where is the new girl’s paperwork?” my father asks, shifting through some papers sitting in front of him. A couple of times a week, we meet to
discuss business, usually in a room that adjoins my office. It’s simple with just a large table and chairs. I sit here, tapping my fingers along the top of the table, lost in thought as my father rambles on.

  Nobody tells me no, and no woman walks away from me – especially Charlie. I close my eyes, the darkness behind my lids vibrating with Charlie. Her long, brown hair and small frame. Her attitude is feisty, but her shaky hands give away she’s petrified.

  Charlie is different. She’s not like any woman I’ve come across before. The taste of her is sweet, her smell an aphrodisiac. My cold exterior with her is failing miserably. I lose myself around her. I can’t keep my mind set on what I need to do, and what’s expected of me. All I can think about is… Charlie. I clench my eyes hard and inhale a deep breath. It makes me feel sick that I would even think it, but Charlie is worth breaking my commitment to my mother.

  “Landon!”

  I promised her I would bring back the family name. I told her I would see to it that the Blackwell name become one of respect and power again. That I would make this estate rise from the shame my father placed upon it. But how can I do that if I break the first step in making this place strong again? I took Charlie to make a statement to the thugs of Vegas, that the Blackwells were back. That—

  “Landon!”

  I open my eyes, finding my father, Roman, and Veronica staring at me, my father and Veronica in annoyance and Roman with concern.

  “I’ll get it to you,” I mutter, sitting up in my chair.

  “Where did you say you picked her up from again?” my father questions, tilting his head to the side and narrowing his eyes.

  “Mick. She was one of Mick’s girls,” I inform him, exhaling a tired breath. I’ve told them this before. Them asking me over and over again, and them not calling her by her first name even though I’ve told them it before, it’s them telling me they don’t approve. Which means I’m probably doing something right.

  “I’m not so sure of this one. She’s…” Veronica trails off, flipping her hair over her shoulder. I straighten my tie and smirk. Veronica doesn’t like her because she smells competition. Call it what you will, but Veronica and I have played a game of back and forth behind our parents’ back since my father and Tara got together.

  I don’t care about Veronica, not at all. In fact, I haven’t even slept with her. I just like to watch her become so desperate for what lies in my pants. The woman is pathetic. I’ve seen escorts with more self-respect.

  “Nobody really cares what you think, Veronica. In fact, why in the hell are you even in here?” I tilt my head to the side, eyeing her. She gasps, her eyes wide as she looks at my father in shock.

  “Landon!” my father scolds.

  “Do I need to remind you, Father, that I am in charge now? Not you, and surely not Veronica. You signed everything over to me, remember? And Charlie is mine, and she’ll be our finest girl yet.” I smile wolfishly at them, making Veronica scoff.

  “Get me the paperwork. In charge or not, this is a family business and we are family,” Father insists.

  “You’ll get it when I get it to you, Miller.” Venom laces my every word. I’m not sure why he’s taking interest. He’s never cared before.

  “Don’t you use my first name. I am your father, and you will call me as so!” he roars, slamming his poor excuse of a fist on the table. I detest calling him my flesh and blood, but it’s easier than listening to him ramble on about how family sticks together. It’s bullshit. Where was he when my mother was dying?

  “Yeah, sure. Are we done here?” I push my chair out and stand, fastening the button of my jacket.

  My father gives me a cynical eye and quietly nods.

  CHARLIE

  Heading toward the kitchen, after changing out of my dress and into something more comfortable, I find Tara leaving the dining room with a tray of food.

  “Oh, are you hungry?” she asks, her tone friendly. I smile and nod. Her blonde, silky hair reaches her breasts, and she’s wearing a short robe, revealing the tops of her thighs down to her bare feet.

  “Yeah, I’m just heading to the kitchen to get something,” I reply, running my hand along the dining room table.

  “They just kicked me out. They’re getting ready for the party tonight. You can come to my room and watch a movie, help me finish off these chicken strips,” Tara offers with a friendly smile. “There’s no way I can finish them all.” She giggles and scrunches her shoulders up.

  “Nobody wants to run off to your room and be buddy-buddy, Tara,” a tall, black-haired woman insults, walking out of the kitchen. Tara swallows and looks the other way, her expression sheepish.

  “And you are?” I ask, glaring at the woman. She has long hair with a gold band wrapped around her head, with a long, flowered golden dress to match. Her eyes are wide and colored green, her lips blood-red to match her nails.

  “I’m Tabatha, the number one escort of the estate,” she sneers, popping her hip out proudly and crossing her arms.

  I scoff. This woman seriously has her priorities messed up.

  “Tara, I would love to hang out,” I state, my eyes never leaving Tabatha’s. She snorts and smacks her lips together in a ‘go figure’ manner.

  “Veronica was right,” Tabatha smarts.

  I furrow my brows in confusion. “About what?”

  Tabatha gives a tight-lipped smile, and walks past Tara and me. “Nothing. Enjoy your loser party,” she remarks. “Don’t forget to throw up afterwards, Tara,” Tabatha mocks.

  After she leaves, I look over and find Tara looking down at her tray of food sadly.

  “Does Miller know she talks to you like that?” I scoff. Tara frowns. “No, I can take care of myself,” she snaps.

  “I didn’t mean-“

  “You don’t have to join me. I’m sure you can get some cookies or something.”

  “No, let’s go,” I insist. I am very intrigued by Tara.

  She looks up, her face bright and cheery.

  “Really?” she whispers. I nod and grab a chicken strip from the tray.

  “Follow me,” she instructs. “With the party tonight, the girls are going to be wandering around the estate. They aren’t all that bitchy, though,” she continues.

  I follow her up the stairs, and instead of going toward the left or right wings of the house, we go straight, passing a bunch of windows that display the setting sun. She presses her back against a door, juggling the food tray, and pushes it open.

  “This is where Miller and I stay. Make yourself comfy,” Tara remarks, setting the tray on the bed. I look around, noticing fancy clothes all over the floor and an unmade bed with gray blankets and sheets. The floor is made up of white carpet, and the wall in front of the bed is nothing but shelves of books and movies. A large TV displays a movie tucked between the bookcases, but I can’t tell what’s playing.

  “I’m going to use the restroom and change,” she tells me, prancing off toward a closed door. My eyes catch another doorway next to the bathroom that’s open. I glance in, finding a desk and more books and files along the wall behind it. My breath takes a sudden absence. This is Miller’s office. If I’m going to find anything, I bet it’s in that desk or in one of those files.

  I look back at the bathroom door and notice it’s still closed and Tara is singing. I quickly head into the office and pull open some drawers of the desk. My heart races that Miller might catch me rummaging through his desk. I find a few empty bottles of booze in the first drawer. I sigh, pulling open another. My eyes dart toward the door nervously before shuffling through the remains. I find some paperwork from other escorts and their earnings, but it’s not what I’m looking for. Shit! I throw it back in its place, ready to give up, when my eyes catch a divider in the back of the drawer.

  I purse my lips in curiosity and slide the drawer out more, finding some folders with dust on them. I open one, dust falling on my lap, and find some older photos of women, like they’re at a party or something. My eyes trail acr
oss Landon in one of the pictures, just as serious in the photo as he is now. I close the tan folder and thumb through the other files that lay under it until I find bright red lettering printed on one. I pull it out and my head spins, my stomach falls, and I feel like I may vomit. It says Evans across it. Evans, like my last name? What could Miller have on me?

  “Charlie?” My heart beats quickly, and I shove the folder in the back of my shorts, pulling my shirt down over it – or trying to, at least. My shirt’s too small, not covering much.

  “There you are.” She smiles, walking into the office.

  “I love this desk, and the view is amazing,” I respond, my voice cracking nervously as I point at the windows. My hands are trembling and my heart is sputtering. I never was any good at keeping secrets.

  “Yeah, Miller loves it.” She puts her hands on her hips and leans against the doorframe. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  I cock my head to the side, confused.

  “You think I’m some gold digger, and that I’m only with Miller for his money and power.”

  “I—” I’m not sure what to say, because that very thought has crossed my mind.

  “You’d be wrong. Just like the rest of the people at this estate. I love Miller.” She smiles, and her eyes fill with tears. The reaction confuses me. “I hate this estate. When he talks about it, or gets involved with it, it makes him a monster. He’s not a monster, though. He’s so sweet and he’s…” She stops and wipes her face.

  “He’s different with me. One day… one day, I will get him away from this fucking place.” She levels me with a serious look. “I’ll do anything to make sure that happens.”

  I swallow hard, not sure what to say. The only vibe I get with Miller is evil. But as far as Miller being a monster when it comes to the estate, I’d say his son Landon is just like him.

  “You wanna eat? It’s probably getting cold.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. This woman is so left and right with her emotions, I can’t keep up.

  “Actually, Tara, I’m getting kind of tired. I think I’m going to go lie down before the gala,” I lie, standing up from the desk. I watch my steps, trying to make sure the folder doesn’t fall out of my shorts.