by Anna del Mar
I launched a blistering glare in his direction. Excuses? He might as well have slapped me in the face. He didn’t know a thing about me or my life. I’d thought about quitting the foundation a million times. Deep down, I knew it was the pivotal step. But talk and action involved different skill sets and I’d faltered when it came to the latter. Walking away from the only life I knew was much harder than he knew.
“I can’t just up and leave.” I swallowed a gulp of irritation and struggled to regulate the sharpness in my tone. “There are a lot of people who depend on me.”
“True.” He clasped his large hands together over the railing. “But I also know that you are miserable working for your mother and you are at the end of your rope. The way I see it, you are fucking brilliant, Clara, and there are all kinds of ways in which you can still make a difference in the world, without selling yourself short.”
Selling yourself short. My stomach vaulted. Coming from his lips, the expression made me nauseated. I gazed at his interlaced fingers, those long, blunt-tipped, strong digits that had given me so much joy and pleasure over the last few days. I was whole when I was with Noah. I was happy. As long as he didn’t know, we had a chance.
“You have lots of options,” Noah was saying. “Why not give the blog a full-time go?”
“But...” I stole another look at him. “I thought you didn’t want me to write that article for RelevantSex.com.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” he said. “But I think you should consider giving the blog a go on your own. You don’t need Annette Collins to make it a success. Look at your numbers. The blog is a financially viable project.”
My irritation ramped up to a flicker of anger. “You looked at my numbers?”
“It was only a quick financial analysis.”
The flicker grew hotter. “Without my permission?”
“You were busy with the foundation,” he said. “I made the time and ran some numbers.”
I squeezed the railing until my fingers ached. My emotions scattered every which way. I didn’t even know where to begin. Was he right? Could the blog really be viable without RelevantSex.com’s backing? Overwhelmed as I was, I’d never even considered the possibility. A little hope sparkled in the back of my mind, but that flicker of anger officially turned into a surge of outrage and ate up all the hope. If there was one thing that drove me insane, it was somebody acting just like my mother, taking over my life and telling me what to do. I’d had enough condescension for three lifetimes and he had no right to tell me what to do.
“Back off, Noah,” I said. “I can handle my stuff.”
“Clara...” His tone strained, but with a huge effort, he managed the words. “I’m in your corner. If you decide you want to leave the foundation, I want you to know you’re always welcome with me. What I have is yours and if you need a place to stay...”
A place to stay. Not move in with me. Not throw your life away and be with me because I love you. Not share my house and my heart forever. Until that moment I didn’t realize how bad I’d needed to hear those words. It hit me in the gut. Despite my designer DNA, I wasn’t any better or any different from every other girl out there who craved a home and a partner for life. Instead, Noah had just offered me a place to stay.
My teeth clamped down my lips. The old grief smashed down on me like an avalanche of sorrow. The pain of that day long ago burned. He wanted to talk me into making all of these changes: challenge Mother, leave the foundation, grow the blog and abandon my life as I knew it. But what would happen when he got well? Would he leave me behind in search of his next big challenge?
“I have a house right down the road and an apartment in Georgetown.” My voice rang decibels higher than before. “And I don’t see any point in pitching my life out the window so that you can abandon me again.”
“Clara...” Noah’s jaw clamped down in anger that matched mine. “We’re talking ancient history here. I didn’t abandon you, I never wanted to leave you. Your cousin swore you never wanted to see me again and your mother had me thrown out of the island and threatened to prosecute me if I ever showed my face around...”
“My mother is a fucking bitch.” There. I’d said it aloud. “But even if I hate her methods, she’s a constant in my life. Whereas you, you gave up on me. You left me and never looked back.”
The vitriol in my voice startled even me. Fifteen years of suppressed pain and frustration popped out of me by the force of a nightmare and I had no clue if I could put the cork back on it.
“Fine, I get it. I fucked up. Sorry.” Noah scrubbed his hand over his face, eyes dimmed and loaded with sadness, mouth straight, looking weary but also supremely irritated. “But you didn’t exactly come looking for me either.”
“Stop it.” I slapped my hands over my ears. “Don’t you think I know all that shit?” Didn’t he know how deeply I regretted my own stupidity?
“Jesus Christ, Clara,” he spat between his teeth. “You make me so goddamn mad, I can’t fucking think clearly.” He took a calming breath, raked his fingers through his hair and began to pace the balcony. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you.”
“And you think I do?”
“You want to blame me for what happened?” he said. “Go ahead. But that was fifteen fucking years ago. I’m trying really hard right now and I don’t know what else to do. So just tell me, Clara, how do I fix the past? What the hell do want me to do?”
Honestly? I had no idea. My heart ached, for him, for me. A horn tooted outside, startling both of us. I jumped three feet in the air. Martha and her cab had arrived.
“Who...what?” Noah glared at me as if I’d somehow betrayed him. “You called Martha while you were locked in the bathroom?”
“I needed a ride.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just...” Escape. I needed to leave. Right now. I straightened my back and gulped down an urge to explain the unexplainable. “I’m leaving on the seven o’clock ferry.”
“I could’ve driven you on my motorcycle.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
His face paled. I regretted my choice of words instantly, but it was too late. The damage was done. Noah’s eyes turned obsidian black. His jaw set at a straight angle and a muscle flinched on his face.
“I...um... I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You meant it exactly like that,” he spat. “And it’s the fucking truth.”
“Noah, I—”
“Wait.” Realization dawned on his face. “Are you mad at me because I can’t go with you to the foundation’s gala?”
“No way.” I felt caught like a deer in the headlights. “I didn’t say that.”
A bitter smirk distorted his features. “So this is all about me, my inability to get the hell out of this house and be there for you.”
“No,” I stammered, “I didn’t say any of that.”
“Tell me the truth, Clara, come on. A date for your fucking gala. Isn’t that what you want from me right now?”
I opened my mouth to deny it, but no words came out. He made me sound so brainless and shallow. I reeled from the accusation. But I reeled even harder because it was a direct hit. Durant’s face flashed in my mind. This time around, I’m going to get my money’s worth.
Oh my God. Noah was right. Deep in my heart, in that corrupted little corner where all my junk piled up, I wanted him to come to the gala—no—I needed him to come with me. I was afraid of Durant, or more specifically, I was terrified of what I’d do if I faced Durant on my own.
Absurd. Needy. Sad. When had I become such a pathetic human being?
Leave. Now. I had to get out of here. If I stayed, I’d have to explain and I couldn’t. None of this was Noah’s fault. It was my fault. But he didn’t have to know. I stomped to the bedroom and, gathering my things, s
tuffed them in my bag.
Noah fought to regain a measure of control and followed me into the bedroom. “I’m trying, okay?” he muttered. “I swear, if it was in my power, I’d be at your stoop every day of the week. But I can’t do that right now, and dwelling on it only adds to the pressure.”
My head swiveled in his direction. “You think I’m pressuring you?”
“I can’t fucking do it.” His hands fisted at his sides. “Maybe next month I’ll be able to get off this fucking island. Maybe it’ll be next year, or in ten years, or maybe never. Hell, there’s a high probability that all that fucking therapy shit is for nothing. So what you want from me—the only thing you’ve ever asked of me—that’s the one fucking thing I can’t do, no matter how hard I try.”
He winced and I hated myself for causing him such great pain. I couldn’t watch him hurting like that. I had to leave. Period. I fished my boots from under the bed and sat on the mattress to put them on.
“Talk to me, Clara,” Noah said. “This is no time to run.”
“I’m going to go now,” I said in the voice of a pleasant robot. I didn’t feel as if I had any options. I was tired, emotionally exhausted, and straining to hang on to the last vestiges of my self-control. I wasn’t ready to face my truths.
He let out a bluster of angry breath. “Maybe before you go, you can do me a favor, help me sort through the bullshit.”
I snapped my head up. “Excuse me?”
“What’s with the yellow?” he said.
“What yellow?”
“The yellow you pulled on me, last weekend, when you were on the bench.”
Oh, that yellow.
Terror coalesced in my belly and twisted my guts like a bad case of the runs. He was close, so close to discovering me. There was no way I could tell him about Durant. About what happened. About how and why it happened. I couldn’t explain, not right now, maybe never. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Clara Luz doesn’t talk about her yellows.” His tone was as sour as vinegar. “Let’s talk about her reds then. Why were you calling out red when you woke up today?”
The fact that I’d woken up calling out “red” hurt him in ways I couldn’t begin to understand. I recognized the pain in his eyes. I couldn’t stand it.
I picked up my stuff and marched out the door. Out. Fast. Before I broke down, before he realized the kind of weak, crappy excuse for a human being he’d once taken for a lover.
He caught me by the arm and stopped me in the hallway. “I don’t want you to leave.”
My glower fell on his hand. “Let me go.”
“What the fuck do you want from me?”
Deep inside I knew what I wanted from him, but he hadn’t offered and I wouldn’t beg. I also knew that there were things he couldn’t give me, not right now. I hated myself for wanting those things. And suddenly I was beyond mad, incensed, at myself but also at him. A surge of raw anger powered my resolve.
“I don’t want a single thing from you.”
I snatched my elbow free and wheeled on my heels. I didn’t want a life with him, or a promise of forever, or a pair of strong arms to hold me when my nightmares came back. I didn’t need him to run my numbers, or prop me up, or shelter me when all hell broke loose. Least of all, I didn’t need his protection to help me uphold my dignity if it came to that. I had myself and that would have to do. My boots thumped on the wood as I trotted down the steps.
“Clara.” He called out from the top of the stairs.
I looked up. He loomed above me like the God of the last judgment, black eyes flashing with fire and brimstone.
“Was I in that scene when you called out red?” he asked. “Was I part of your nightmare last night?”
I was beyond furious, lost in a red tide of fear and rage. I’d been dug out of all my burrows, surrounded and trapped. I sank my nails in my palms and lashed out like a cornered rat.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I fished the cell he’d given me out of my purse and dropped it on the foyer table. And with that, I walked out the door and fled from the only man I’d ever loved.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Noah
How the hell had things gotten so far out of control? We’d been fine when we went to sleep, enjoying each other and the best sex two people could have. Well, okay, maybe not fine. I’d been worried about Clara leaving and she’d been on the quiet side, but I’d estimated I had plenty of time to get through to her. Fatal miscalculation. One nightmare and we’d exploded like a doomed rocket on ignition.
I knew the moment she left that we were hanging in the balance, although I didn’t understand why. Sure, there was junk in our past, but I expected we’d get over that in time. What was I missing?
Standing at the top of the stairs, the world turned dark. Fury blinded me. How dare she come into my life, disrupt my carefully designed existence, give me hope and then walk out when she knew I couldn’t go after her?
Maybe that was her point. I couldn’t go after her when she somehow needed exactly that. But she’d known my limits all along. I’d never lied to her about my capabilities and I’d tried supremely hard to become, not just the best Dom I could be, but also the supportive, caring partner I’d always wanted to be for her.
Clearly I’d missed the mark on several fronts. I’d failed to see how profoundly things affected her, how deep her scars were. Maybe I’d moved too fast on the sex stuff, but she denied that and she’d given me all the right signals at every turn. I’d put in the work.
I stalked down the steps and grabbed the cell she’d left behind. It was her way of saying we were done. I had a flashback, her cousin Felix warning me that if I ever tried to contact her again, she’d sic security on me and press charges.
My chest hurt as if I’d been hit by a high-caliber bullet all over again. My fingers whitened around the cell. She was done with me. Maybe she’d lost hope that I could get better. Maybe she was out of patience.
I slammed the cell on the floor. It shattered, scattering plastic and glass all over the foyer. Fuck. I had to do something, but what, I wasn’t sure. I jammed my feet in my boots, grabbed my jacket and tore apart the drawers, looking for the motorcycle’s keys. Could I do this? I marched downstairs, ripped the cover off the motorcycle and hit the garage door opener. The gate lifted. Every molecule in my body screamed. Go after her. I wanted to prove to her that I could do that. Hell, I wanted to prove it to myself.
The gray morning beyond the doorway taunted me with a drizzle and a parade of old fears. The motorcycle mocked me with flashes of metallic glint. An invisible wall stood between me and the outside. I gagged. I threw up in my mouth.
I stood at the threshold and stared at the sky where the sun struggled to light a bleak gray sky. The helplessness squashed me like a roach. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go after her. I couldn’t go out of the house, even if my life depended on it, which it did.
My chest ached so hard I felt as if my rib cage was going to explode. I wanted to spit fire and burn the whole island to hell. What kind of life was this? What kind of long, lingering death was my life going to become without Clara in it? I felt hopeless, devastated, done, as if all of my progress had been wiped out with Clara’s exit, as if all of my efforts had been for naught.
The alarm on my cell went off. I ignored it. I couldn’t deal with any more shit right now. Clara was gone. What the fuck was I going to do now?
The cell went crazy, buzzing, vibrating, pinging, chiming. Every alert came on at the same time. I blinked away the tears burning in my eyes and glanced at the screen. RAT activated. Josephus had swallowed my lure. He was live on the net. If I found him, I could take him out. I squeezed the keys in my hand. The metal bit into my palm and drew blood. The fury spiked.
“Fuck this.” With an elbow-rattling pitch, I hurled
the motorcycle keys out the door. Fuck the treatment program. The hell with all of that. Clara and I, we were never meant to be. She’d always been a reach, a temporary delusion of my feeble mind. Freedom? It had never been in the cards.
I stared at my cell through a liquid haze. Clara lived in a world inaccessible to me, but Josephus? He wasn’t so goddamn fortunate.
Chapter Thirty
Clara
The anger drained from me as soon as I walked out of the cottage. I cried the entire cab ride to the pier. Martha had the decency to stay quiet. I cried on the ferry ride to the mainland too. I cried because I’d been discovered and, even though Noah didn’t know the facts, he must suspect by now that I was a highly defective human being. I cried because I didn’t like the truths I’d learned about myself—how cowardly, needy and pathetic I was—and because I feared the actions those truths required. I cried because it was time for change and I wasn’t ready.
Once I got to my Georgetown apartment, I spent Sunday in bed, something I hadn’t done since all those years ago, when Noah left Avalon. I burrowed beneath my duvet like a wounded beast in her cave. I felt sorry for myself, weak, helpless and pitiful. I slept on and off, surrounded by little mounds of crumpled tissues. I was emotionally exhausted but also physically spent. Maybe Noah had made a good point when he cautioned me about the risks of sexual overload. Had I been in such a rush to try as much kink as I could because part of me knew that it could all end in a blink?
My eyes welled up again. Damn tears, when would they stop? I should bottle up the water and send it across the country to end the drought. I dabbed my eyes and blew my nose. I’d driven the pace of our sexual frenzy the entire time, but maybe it was time to admit I’d gone overboard. My muscles were tender and my pussy needed a break.
Note to blog: top-notch kink requires physical and emotional fitness.
I scolded myself. Why was I still making mental notes when it was over?
Over? The fighter in me threw a punch. Says who? The ninny who’s scared of her nightmares? Was I willing to give up Noah and the joys I’d discovered in his arms without a fight?