by Shayne Ford
“Don’t you find it odd that all of a sudden he breaks up with her?”
I tear my gaze away from his, afraid that I might tip him off.
“You don’t know him,” I say in a rush, leaning forward and picking the glass from the table.
I soak my lips in the drink before I sweep them with the tip of my tongue, trying to buy some time.
The glass goes back onto the table.
“He’s always been like that. One minute, you think he’s in love with you. Next, he turns a cold heart to you. That’s why things never worked out between us,” I say, averting my eyes.
Staring blankly at my skirt, I remove minute lint from the fabric, my mind feverishly looking for ways to shift the conversation.
“And yet he wants you to break up with me,” he says.
I raise my eyes, my breath stuck in my throat.
“It’s not going to happen, Stephan. Relax,” I say with a strained voice. “He can say whatever he wants to. Things will not change between us. I’m not really getting back with him. The only reason we’ve had that conversation was to stop him from seeing that woman. And also to remind him that he needs to respect his father’s will.”
His eyebrows flick up, his face washed with disbelief.
I feel as if I just stepped on a landmine.
“Why are you so affected by that woman if you don’t care about him?” he asks, not buying my explanation.
I take a long breath, my eyes holding his gaze with great effort.
It’s so obvious that I’m walking such a thin line. I’m seconds away from a disaster if the wrong words fall from my mouth.
“I don’t trust his judgment, Stephan,” I say firmly, trying to remove any shred of suspicion. “These things can easily spin out of control.”
“Are you afraid that he would ask for a divorce?” he asks, puzzled.
I slowly tip my chin down.
“No... I mean yes,” I say, drawling the word. “Divorce would be a disaster,” I say, spotting an opportunity to get out of this mess unscathed. “But I’m not talking emotions here. It’s all about money, our estates and the lives of the people who would be affected by this. That’s what I swore to protect. That is what his father and mine tasked me with. Sebastien and I have known each other since we were kids. Our parents were friends. His mom died when we were young, but his father remained very close to my family. We always knew that Sebastien and I would get married one day, and one of the reasons for that was the fact that both families wanted to protect their wealth. Sebastien played the field quite a bit before he settled with me, so his father knew a thing or two about him. He didn’t want the Rockford estate to get in the hands of a woman who came from a different walk of life than him or his son. He liked me a lot, perhaps even more than his own son, and that's why he wanted to make sure that our marriage would survive. His father knew that cheating would be the likely circumstance to lead to the dissolution of our marriage, so he did whatever he could to prevent it from happening. He thought that this way he’d protect me and also the money. What he didn’t foresee was the fact that Sebastien would disregard his wisdom. What I didn’t know was the fact that his son was cold as ice and ruthless. I didn’t start this. He did.”
I pause and flick my hand, irritated.
“Anyway... It’s not even worth talking about him. All I know is that dissolving our marriage would create chaos and so much collateral damage. It would be unfair to so many people to be affected by some stupid affair.”
The shadow darkening his eyes suggests that I just ruined the progress that I made.
“It’s different with us, Stephan. You understand the circumstances, and you know how I feel for you, but that woman is something different. I can’t have that kind of complications because of her.”
He seems to look relieved for a moment.
At least, that’s what I want to believe.
“Trust me. I don’t want him in my bed,” I state as I sense him swaying my way.
“What if he has a change of heart?”
“He won’t. And even if he would, the end will be the same. I want him to realize that he has no choice. He can’t leave this marriage without losing his money. And if he wants to leave, he better get used to the idea. Also, I want him to acknowledge that she’s not worth much to him. I want her gone, and that’s the end of it.”
“Why is she so important to you?”
“She’s not. Well, I don’t like her much... “ I say, smiling, “But the feeling is mutual, anyway. The reason I wanted him to break up with her was to make our reconciliation look real. Poor thing,” I say, shifting in my seat. “Turns out he doesn’t give a shit about her.”
I pause and breathe out a chuckle.
“He had me fooled for a moment. I really thought that he has something for her, but all it took was a little nudge, and his real feelings have surfaced.”
I look down for a moment, musing over the situation before I lift my gaze up and look at him.
He studies me in silence, his brow furrowed.
“What if your plan doesn’t pan out?” he asks
I push up to my feet, straighten my back and erase the space between us. His eyes fall on me as I teasingly sway my hips. I stop in front of him and wind my arms around his neck.
My chin tips up as I start to speak.
“You know me, Steph. I always get what I want,” I mutter sultrily against his lips, pressing my body into his.
I feel him hard against my body.
His arms are still folded on his chest.
“You have to trust me,” I say slowly grinding against him, rubbing the ridge of his erection with the softness of my body.
My fingers slowly trace his neck, my breath fanning over his lips.
“One day I will be a free woman. And this... What we have right now... Will be out in the open. But it has to happen my way, not his. That day, we will not have to hide. But before then, we will spend many more moments like these.
Secret moments. Delicious moments.
My hand slowly trails below his waist, rubbing and squeezing his erection through his pants.
“Trust me,” I murmur in his ear.
I pull back a little to get a glimpse of his face. His expression changes, his eyes getting softer as I run my hand up and down on him.
“You make me very happy, Stephan Leon. I will never trade you for my husband.”
His cheeks get flushed as I slide down the zipper, and slip my hand down his pants. He rolls hot against my fingers. Finally, he uncrosses his arms, his hands coming to my hair.
He clutches my neck and brings his mouth closer to me as I slide my fist up and down on him.
“You better be right, Jacqueline...” he says quietly against my lips. “If he as much as lays a finger on you, I’m gonna rip you apart,” he says dead serious, his words sending a spike of panic through me.
I push my angst back a much as I can.
“Mmmm... I like when you talk like that,” I purr, sweeping the wet tip of his cock with my thumb. “We’re so good together. Steph. Why wouldn’t I be right?”
I toss him a small smile before I slide down to my knees. I pull his fly open all the way and curl my hand around his girth. He pushes off the table, his cock bouncing as he straightens.
His hands come to my head when his erection pushes into my mouth. I moan, swept away by pleasure, enthralled by the expression growing on his face.
With cloudy eyes, he follows my moves, his lips parting as he draws quick breaths. I’ve never had a man so subjugated by me.
He might be the best for me.
5
TESS
The days slip away, empty of him.
It’s not the first time he’s done this to me–– ceasing any communication, keeping me in the dark and making me run scenarios in my mind as I toss and turn without getting a wink of sleep at night, but this is different.
His house hasn’t served me any clues this past week either.
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Curtains block the windows, and the door seems locked at all times. I called his office pretending that I was someone else and asked to talk with him. They said he was out of town.
Maybe he was or maybe he wasn't.
One thing is clear to me. I’m slowly losing my mind.
The hole he carves inside me every time he goes away threatens to suck in my entire life.
My work becomes a chore, my mind pulling out of the moment completely while squirming to find an explanation, whipping up a storm of thoughts.
I tried to pull away from him a thousand times, to protect myself if nothing else and preserve my sanity.
It never worked.
I’m perfectly aware that something in our story has shifted, changed somehow. The cold stare he gave me a week ago spelled it out for me.
But still, I can’t let go of him.
I need an explanation.
I sweep a blank gaze over his windows, a sigh rolling off my lips. When have I traded the anxiety-filled days of my marriage with the days brimming with panic?
I slide my eyes down the building sitting mournfully across the street and stubbornly look for a sign. A hidden message etched in the light gray of the concrete walls.
His silence is killing me.
All these days, I’ve done my best to distance myself from him and his life drama. I’ve told myself, again and again, that our story had the signs of failure all over it. That it was never love, and it will never be.
It can’t be.
But no matter how much I tried, my heart would not give up.
It pounded furiously, refusing the evidence. I tried to reason with it, but I lost that battle, and now it’s crying in my chest.
Slowly, I splay my fingers on the window and root my eyes to the patch of glass across the street, now looking dark and dull like a piece of burlap.
My tears start falling.
It takes a few long, silent minutes before I spin around and drag my feet into the kitchen.
My phone rings a couple of times. I let the calls go straight into the voicemail, and glance at my cell a moment later.
It’s Anna, and then mom.
I make a mental note to call them later on and pivot to the stove.
Absently, I prepare a tea.
Minutes later, I wrap my fingers around the cup, and carefully not to spill the hot drink, I stroll back to the window. I set the mug on a side table and pick a book from a shelve before I sink into a chair.
My eyes fly to the rooftops of the building, my gaze skimming the ragged skyline all the way to downtown.
Too bad, I need to vacate this place earlier than I have planned. Ironically, I love this apartment more than my old home.
I turn on the reading lamp and start sifting through the book unable to still my mind and focus on the words. My eyes shift to the window constantly.
His house is draped in darkness, a stark reminder that it’s been like that the entire week.
I tip my gaze down, and for an hour or so I manage to read a few chapters.
It’s 7 PM when the lights turn on in his home. I shift in my chair and crane my neck to get a better view, but all I see is staff members getting busy around the house.
Preparations for a party are underway from what I can tell. Men and women walk up and down the stairs, and soon enough, an oval table gets set with white linens on the second floor.
Flowers, sparkling cutlery and the glow of the candles steal the show. Music drifts through the air as a window gets open.
A few cars roll past the main entrance and smoothly vanish around the corner, bringing in more help, or perhaps the catering crew delivering food.
It’s eight o’clock when limousines start pulling in front of the building. Within minutes, the house becomes royally lit, the curtains getting drawn to the sides, and the view of the large table sitting in the middle of the dining room streams through the windows.
I wish I could pull away from the spectacle, take a shower, dress up and go out. That would be the wisest thing to do.
I can’t find a good enough reason to put myself through this hell, and yet, that’s exactly what I do.
I turn off the light in the kitchen before I go back to the window, eager to soak in the view. Men and women dressed for a party enter his place.
Despite my effort, I can’t locate him, but I’m sure he’s there.
She must be there too.
It’s almost nine o’clock when cheers waft through the air.
Standing, I crane my neck out to get a better view. I notice the small crowd in the dining room, but it’s hard to tell who is who.
Filled with angst, I turn around, snatch my phone off the table, and dash back. I crack the window open before I prop myself against the sill, bring the phone to my eye level, turn on the camera and peer through the lens.
My arm begins to hurt after a few moments, but my heart aches even harder.
The light flowing through the rooms makes the women’s diamonds sparkle. Red and white flowers sit on the table, golden champagne filling the tall, slim glasses.
A pain burns slowly through my body as I register the details.
The long shimmering dresses, the silk ties, and the suit pants and jackets. The sound of classical music floating in the air as laughter echoes in the house.
A cake surfaces at about 10 PM, confirming my suspicion that it’s a birthday party.
Within moments, the people start singing to the person who is celebrated.
Dressed in a bias cut, silver dress with open back, and bejeweled straps reminiscent of the thirties era, Jacqueline Monroe steals the spotlight.
At her side, clad in a tuxedo, looking ravishing, the man who stole my heart and ruined my life.
If looks could kill, he’d drop dead from my glare.
He holds her hand and smiles brightly while I feel like throwing up.
Spellbound, she tips her head to the side and looks at him, her eyes brimming with adoration.
Conflicting thoughts slam into each other in my head.
What is she doing?
The realization hits me with an iron fist straight into my chest.
A trembling hand goes to my mouth.
No… She’s not doing this.
She lied.
She lied to that man... Stephan. Yes, she did. She made it look as if it was nothing when in fact, all she wanted was to get back with her husband.
She has feelings for him. I can see it now. She never stopped… loving him?
Why would she lie to Stephan?
The thought comes on the crest of hope. Hope that I’d love to crush if I could.
Hoping something that can never happen makes everything so much worse.
“What is this?” I mutter in disbelief, my eyes trained on them.
My head starts spinning, and then the room.
It makes no sense.
“It makes no sense,” I murmur.
I jerk back, away from the window, afraid that someone might’ve seen me.
No chance in hell. The party keeps unfolding with smiles and promises I no longer have access to.
She turns to him and brings his hand to his face. He tips his chin down... He tips his chin down??
Indeed, he does, and she plants a soft kiss on his cheek, thanking him for something.
The surprise party?
A soft grin creases his lips–– the grin I thought was mine forever. Bile creeps up my throat.
I feel as if I’m falling through a black hole.
Shaking, I lean against the wall, my heart beating waywardly. My eyes hurting as much as my skin, my lips, and my fingers. Every part of me that soaked in the memory of his touch, his skin and lips, his hands and his mouth.
Everything is right there in front of my eyes, and still, I can’t believe it. The sight of them together, so happy, so in tune with one another and so far removed from me, makes me sick to my stomach.
My insides cry in utter pain.
&
nbsp; Who is she in love with?
The answer to my question is so evident. And brutal.
He is the man she is in love with. He is the man she’s always loved. Everything else was nothing but a bunch of lies. Smoke in the mirror. Traps she planted here and there. People she used to get to him. Men like Stephan, Allan, and who knows who else, and how many others. Women like me who she moved to the side so she could follow her plans.
It worked.
The thought is cold and grim. As is my heart now.
“It worked...” I mutter to myself, my pulse throbbing in my ears. “The oldest trick in the book...” I murmur again, my eyes rooted to the golden couple.
My gaze sweeps his face, his lips, the point where their hands connect as he slowly twirls with her in a smooth dance.
In the end, he wasn’t that smart after all, I muse, as I work on disentangling myself from him.
Yeah... He has the brain and the looks, and he certainly has the passion. But he is not the man I thought he was. He lied to me and likely to himself, thinking that he could just ignore her.
But how could he?
Really.
My eyes linger on her for a moment.
A cascade of dark hair rolls down her bare back, almost touching her waist. A seductive smile gleams across her lips while she temptingly sways her hips.
Her dress falls smoothly over her skin, outlining the contour of her body, emphasizing the swell of her chest, her narrow waist, and lean legs. She burns for him as if she’s never been with him before. She’s drunk on him, ready to subjugate him again. Eager to bring him back to her again.
She’s already done it, suggests his smile and tender grip on her.
How could I possibly fall for his lies?
And how could I possibly believe that she’d no longer have a chance at him?
How foolish of me to believe that crap.
Is this final? Would he be back?
It’s not as if he hasn’t done it before. He broke away from me not once, and then he shifted his position and turned me around somehow, with a word or a gesture, but this time... How could he possibly do that?
It’s seconds later when I sense the warm trail of tears falling from my lashes. I wipe them away as I dive deep into my sorrow.