Unlocking Love

by Anya Sharpe

  I pause to consider what he’s told me.

  “Two questions. First, if she’s so good, why didn’t she stay with her former firm? And, second, “my team?” Currently, that’s a team of me plus a part-time paralegal.” I chuckle at the thought of a real “team” for this case, considering its importance to the firm.

  “She’s from New York and was living out of state for a few years. Wanted to return to the city. Got her blessings from the home team, I guess. Now you have a staff of two and a half. Don’t go crazy.”

  “Fine, fine. Where is this wunderkind? Hiding around the corner?”

  “Ladies’ room powdering her nose or something. I’ll introduce you as soon as she returns. I think you two will get along famously.” Jamie is pleased as punch with this new hire. I certainly hope she’s all he thinks he is.

  “Ah, here she is now.” He waves someone over.

  “Morgan Banner, meet Derrick Sommers.”

  My heart stops beating as the woman from my past strolls into my office, wearing the sexy grin I know too well.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Mr. Sommers, pleased to meet you,” She extends a perfectly manicured hand in my direction.

  So, that’s how we’re handling this? Fine with me.

  “Ms. Banner, right?” I play dumb. I really want to play dead. Or hide-and-not-go-seek. This is a very bad idea.

  “Yes. I’ve heard marvelous things about you from Mr. Reed. He says you’re quite…talented.” The knowing glint in her eyes scares the shit out of me. I sure as hell hope Jamie doesn’t notice.

  Shoot. Me. Now.

  ****

  Someone knocks on my door. Ice runs through me, because I’m certain I know who’s on the other side.

  Morgan’s been on board three days. I’ve gone out of my way to avoid both speaking and running in to her by staying closeted in my office. I still haven’t figured out how to deal with this. I only hope she’s willing to keep things strictly professional.

  Somehow, I’m doubtful. Morgan was always a little on the devious side. I put nothing past her.

  She taps again. I can’t avoid her forever.

  “Yeah, come in.” I shout, trying to sound surly.

  She enters, closing the door behind her.

  God in heaven. The woman is dressed to fucking kill. Me.

  A snug red dress hugs every goddamned one of her curves. Each is devastatingly potent and a definite reminder of the body it’s covering and I remember all too well.

  “Derrick.” She strolls in and sits, crossing her legs. The hem skims up her thigh just enough to reveal a hint of black garter where it’s attached to silk stockings. The move was intentional. “How’ve you been?”

  “Married.” I choke out the words, praying the growing hardness in my pants comes to the realization it’s getting pumped up over the wrong woman.

  Her eyebrows raise in surprise. “You’re married?” She laughs. “How on earth did that happen?” I catch a flash of disappointment she masks with a forced smile.

  This is ridiculous. Which one of us was the dominant? Take charge, Derrick, I tell myself. I adjust the package in my lap, sit up taller, lean forward onto my desk, and grill her with a steely expression.

  “Well, Ms. Banner, if you must know, I met someone. We fell in love. I proposed. We married. Happily ever after ensues.” I stop talking, but continue staring.

  She shifts her gaze to the hands she’s clasped together in her lap. Good. Nice and submissive. She raises her eyes again.

  “I guess that means you’re out of circulation, then, Master?”

  What the…

  Time to lay down the law, so to speak.

  “Yes. I am not your Master. Derrick will do. This will be strictly professional. You will not make any references to the past. Ever. That is not on the table here. We’re only working together as much as this case requires. No touching. No innuendo. No nothing. Got it?”

  I’m being harsher than I need to be, but no lines will be crossed. I can’t go there. I won’t go there.

  “Yes, sir.” She gives me a sly look that says “we’ll see about that.”

  “No, ‘yes, sirs’ either. Just Derrick. Just the case.” After a pause, I ask what’s been on my mind. “How did you end up here, anyway? Out of all the firms in the city? I have a hard time believing this was a coincidence, Morgan.”

  She stands and leans over the desk, providing a bountiful view of her luscious cleavage. She whispers, “Of course it was a coincidence, Derrick.” A few tense seconds later, she walks to the door with a purposeful sway to her hips, designed to entice.

  “I’m available tomorrow. For work, of course.”

  Oh hell. The writing is on the wall, and it’s not good.

  ****

  Morgan rolls over on to her back, the red satin sheets barely covering her ample breasts. Her arms stretch above her head, and she yawns. She’s the textbook definition of a sex kitten, reminding me of the character Joan on the series “Mad Men.”

  “Hey.” She smiles.

  “Good morning.” I’m suffocating. I need to get out of this apartment. We shouldn’t have stayed the night. My hands slide to her hip, and unconsciously I tug her warm body close to mine. My lips find hers, exploring for a few seconds before I pull away and sit up. This whole situation is wrong.

  “I’ve gotta go. I need to be somewhere in thirty minutes.” A total lie.

  She pouts. “After that kiss, I’m not ready to go.”

  I stand and put on my pants. “Sorry, kitten. I can’t be late. I have to run home and change first. C’mon. Get up.”

  Home. Hah.

  I no longer have a home. Erynne kicked me out. Rightfully so. Home is the Hilton these days.

  ****

  Emerging from a hot shower, a knock on the hotel room door reminds me of the breakfast I ordered.

  Room service rolls in a cart laden with eggs, bacon, toast, and a whole carafe of coffee.

  I pour a cup, and stroll onto the small balcony where I sit, overlooking the New York skyline, and think about how I’ve fucked up my life.

  Erynne served me with divorce papers. She found the apartment I was stupid enough to keep. Worse, she saw the video with Morgan. I hurt her and can’t blame her.

  But Christ, I miss her like crazy.

  So, what the hell was I doing with Morgan again? Why do I keep going back to her, when she’s the reason everything is in the shitter?

  I’m still married, and I’m fucking around with another woman.

  I have no idea how to salvage any of this mess, which pisses me off. I love Erynne, but, nights like last night with Morgan fill a dark hole I’d buried for years.

  I want both. I can’t have both. I don’t even have the right to make a decision about it anymore. The two women in my life made the decisions for me. I hate that. I hate it with a passion.

  I need to talk to Erynne and explain things to her. She won’t speak to me, though. Not surprising, since I ripped her heart out, which kills me.

  If I hadn’t been such a coward, I would have told her about Morgan from the start. If I’d told her and Jamie everything, Morgan wouldn’t have been able to snare me again. I was so afraid of what the two closest people to me would say when they learned about my past. Now, I’ve lost my wife. Jamie’s disgusted with me and angry at my treatment of Erynne.

  Thank God, the Martin case wraps up this week. Once the trial is off my plate, I’ve got a lot of decisions to make.

  Thoughts about this mess tumble through my mind at a rapid pace. Could I talk Erynne into going away with me? To the Caribbean or something? Is it possible to salvage this? Yeah, great idea.

  Fat chance.

  What about Morgan? I’m a sick bastard for thinking Erynne would go away with me, mere hours after playing hardball with Morgan in the sex pad. My dick stirs at the memory of Morgan strapped down and taking the whipping I gave her last night. Not to mention the orgasms. Jesus, that woman…

 
Stop.

  Without thinking, I pick up the phone.

  “Good morning, Derrick.”

  “Jamie. I need help. Please?”

  Momentary silence.

  “Where do you want to meet?”

  ****

  “I fucked up so bad, Jamie. I don’t even know what I want anymore.” I’m on my third or fourth cup of coffee. Wired is an understatement.

  “Yes, you have, my friend. Only you can decide what to do, how you’d like this to play out. Personally, I think no matter what happens with your wife, you need to stop seeing Morgan. I can move her to the other office after the Martin trial ends.”

  “Yeah. Will you?” It’s a shitty thing to ask.

  “Calvin and I agree it isn’t good for you two to stay so close.”

  “Jesus. You and Calvin discussed this?”

  “Of course.” Jamie’s angry now. “Did you think we were going to turn a blind eye to this mess? If you’d come to me when we hired Morgan, the work environment could have been immediately altered. I take some blame in this.”

  “No, Jamie, don’t.” My guilt includes Jamie now. Great. “So. Erynne. I love her, Jamie. This is killing me.”

  “Then why are you still sleeping with Morgan? If I were you, I’d have been trying to make repairs long before it came to this.”

  “How do you know whether I’m sleeping with Morgan or not?”

  “Of course you are.” He shakes his head sadly. “You can’t keep your eyes off her ass in the office. Everyone’s noticed.” He scoffs. “Yesterday, I heard you tell her to meet you at ‘the apartment’—or should I call it a den of iniquity?”

  “Fuck.”

  “Derrick. I’m your friend. I hate to say this. I had lunch with Erynne recently, and…”

  “You what?” I’m shocked.

  “Yes. I was worried about you…both of you. Anyway, after talking to her, I’m not sure she’ll give you another chance. You devastated her. In my opinion, the most you’re going to get in the way of making amends is to talk to her, explain everything—and I mean everything. Apologize. Try to make things as amicable as possible. Don’t hurt her any more than you already have.” He sips his coffee. “And, if, by some teensy-tiny miracle, she takes you back? You’d better spend every single minute of your life devoted to that woman. And only that woman.”

  Hell. He’s right.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Erynne

  Derrick invited me to dinner. Pleaded is a better word. I tried to decline, but he insisted he owes me many explanations. So, against my better judgment, I agreed. I hope I don’t regret it.

  Standing in the reception area of Nonna Gracie’s Italian, I have second thoughts. Big, hairy, serious second thoughts. Derrick is a good ten minutes late, and I am about to go catch a cab when he blows through the door with a gust of wind.

  “Sorry, babe. I couldn’t get a taxi. Traffic is miserable today.”

  I hate when he calls me “babe” anymore, but chalk it up to habit. This time.

  “It’s fine, Derrick,” I assure him, although I wish I’d left five minutes ago and avoided this whole thing.

  Once seated, he orders a bottle of wine. My stomach churns. This feels like before. Except we both know it’s not.

  “Derrick, this is really hard for me. Would you mind getting to whatever you need to tell me?” I’m agitated and nervous, ready to crawl right out of my skin.

  The wine arrives, and the server pours us each a glass. If I’m lucky, a few sips will calm my nerves.

  “Jesus, Erynne. I don’t even know where to begin.” He glances around the room as if he’ll find a script painted on the wall for him. I’m glad to know he’s as nervous as I am. Perhaps more so.

  “Why not start at the beginning.” My stomach plummets as I brace myself for his tale.

  “Yeah. The thing is, I’m not even sure where the beginning is.” It’s obvious that he’s very uncomfortable.

  The server takes our orders, allowing him time to collect his thoughts.

  Derrick fidgets with the flatware, then forces himself to face me. “First, I want to apologize. For everything. The lying, the cheating, the apartment. Hurting you both emotionally and physically. All of it. I am truly so sorry, Erynne. Never in a million years did I expect this could happen. You probably can’t forgive me, at least not yet. That’s eating me up inside.” His sad expression punches me in the gut. Maybe dinner wasn’t the best choice for a meeting, after all.

  “I know.”

  “I love you. Honestly, I really do. If I could erase this whole mess, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  I can’t speak. I don’t what to say, so I stay quiet and listen. He clears his throat before continuing. Here it comes…

  “Before I met you, Morgan and I had a relationship. A sexual relationship centered on BDSM. I assume you know what that is?”

  Nausea rolls through me as I nod yes. Derrick’s misery is evident as he tells me the story about this secret side of him. I’m almost sympathetic.

  “After Morgan moved to Baltimore, I met you. I fell so fucking hard for you, babe. So fucking hard. I decided to take a chance on a ‘normal’ relationship—for you. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought I’d be able to bring you into my world. Maybe not fully, but even a little bit. That’s why I kept the apartment, at first. Then, I didn’t know what to do with it.”

  He pauses to sip his wine. Our food arrives. My appetite has left the building. I rearrange the pasta on my plate, taking a bite here and there, and continue to listen to Derrick’s story.

  “Being married to you has been the best part of my life.” He studies me, taking a bite of food.

  “Jamie hired Morgan. I had no clue until the day he brought her to my office and introduced us. He had no idea we knew each other. Morgan greeted me as if I were a stranger, so I played along. I figured it was best that way. Then, Jamie drops the bombshell that we’re both on the Martin case together. From the get-go, I told Morgan I was married and this would be strictly professional.”

  I wait for the other shoe to drop. A cold, clammy sweat forms on my neck, and my temple pounds.

  “Long nights on the case. A couple of drinks here and there. I can’t even… I’m so, so sorry. So sorry.” His voice cracks, and I think he’s going to cry. I want to be sick. “She threatened to tell you, so I played along. Stupid. Things went further and further. The cravings for my old lifestyle were creeping back. They took over…”

  “Stop! I can’t listen to anymore.” Tears are pooling, and my stomach is revolting. An icy chill hits my body, and I start shaking. “I can’t do this, Derrick. I know you’re sorry. I believe you. But, I…I have to go. Please.”

  Grabbing my purse, I dash out of the restaurant. I’m so close to vomiting, I pray I can make it out outside first. Cool, fresh night air smacks me in the face as I shove open the heavy doors. I suck it down in huge lungs-full as I lean against the aged brick exterior of the building. Tears slide down my cheeks like a waterfall, and I don’t give a shit. I only want my stomach to stop heaving long enough for me to hail a cab and get home.

  “Erynne? Are you all right?” Derrick appears next to me, touching my back with great care.

  “Not really.” I stuttering and gripping my stomach. “Call me a cab please?”

  “Sure. Listen, I’m…”

  “Please. Just the cab.”

  The taxi door slams closed and we take off, leaving Derrick standing on the sidewalk. Once I manage to calm down, I text Maya. I need my friend. Right now.

  “Hey, Erynne…how did dinner go?” The noise of the group happy hour rumbles in the background.

  “Not well. Awful, in fact. I’m headed home.” It occurs to me that going home sounds miserable. Nothing but a reminder of my ruined marriage.

  “Don’t go home. Come here and join us.”

  “I think I will.”

  I lean over the front seat of the cab.

  “Change of plans. Take me to Fieldi
ng’s please.”

  I might as well have a few drinks to drown the pain.

  ****

  I repair my makeup as much as possible while in the cab. My reflection in the little clutch mirror shows I’ve been crying, but I can’t find it in me to give a damn. On the sidewalk in front of the bar, I take a deep breath, gathering the courage to face everyone, and yank open the door.

  Inside, a small group from work is clustered at several tables they’ve pushed together. Thankfully, Evan’s involved in a conversation with his new buddy Gary, so I scoot in next to Maya and rest my aching head on her shoulder for a few seconds.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “I’ve been better. Derrick tried to explain and apologize. It was horrible. I couldn’t stay and listen any longer. When he started talking about Morgan and their BDSM past, and how he began to crave it again when she came back…the sickening video of him…whipping her…started playing in my head again. I lost it.”

  The tears won’t seem to cease no matter how hard I try. “He said…oh, God, he said he kept the apartment, because he hoped to pull me into that lifestyle.”

  “You’re kidding?” Maya is as shocked as I was.

  “Nope. Dead serious.”

  “Oh, sweetie…” Maya hugs me, allowing my gaze to travel across the table, where Evan is staring at me. Gary has disappeared to the bar or something. Anger rolls off Evan in waves. He’s stiff in his chair, clenching and unclenching his fists as if he wants to hit someone. I’m pretty sure it’s not me, so I’m guessing he overheard the last part of our conversation.

  My heart begins to pound as Evan rises from his chair and comes around to my side of the table.

  “Let me buy you a drink. Come on.” Not giving me a choice, he takes my hand and nearly drags me to the bar.

  “I could have waited for a server, Evan.” He ignores my meek protest, pins me between his massive body and the bar, and snags the bartender’s attention. “Two of your best bourbons. Neat.”

  Seconds later, two tumblers of bourbon are set directly in front of me.

  “Drink.” He pushes one glass into my hand and takes the other. I sip hesitantly, watching as he finishes half in a single swallow.