Protecting What's Mine

by Jennifer Sucevic

  By the time I get a second glass, I’m laughing and have loosened up. I watch as Dominic charms all of his guests, drawing the more reserved people out of their shells by reminding them of stories about my parents that leave everyone laughing and remembering them with fondness.

  Midway through the party, Dominic glances behind me, and his eyes light up. Before I can turn around to see what-or who-has captured his attention, his hands go to my bare shoulders, locking me in place.

  “I have one last surprise for you.”

  My head spins with the announcement. What more could he give me? This party is already over the top. Waiters in tuxedos circulate the room with trays of fancy little canapes and glasses of Veuve Clicquot. There are at least a hundred and twenty friends and associates in attendance. For a hastily thrown together affair, everything is perfect.

  Not to mention my dress, shoes, and necklace.

  It’s very possible that I’m in a fairy tale right now.

  All at Dominic’s orchestration.

  Although most of the people surrounding me are strangers, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself this evening. True to his word, Dominic hasn’t left my side. His arm has been casually draped around my waist most of the time. I’ve notice a few speculative looks aimed in our direction.

  “You couldn’t possibly.”

  Without any warning, he quickly turns me around. I’m hit with a wave of dizziness for a moment. The warmth of his hands burn into my shoulders, grounding me and squashing the nausea. For the second time this evening, I gasp. My hands fly to my mouth in surprise.

  “Chloe?”

  A huge grin spreads across her face before she gives a little squeal and flies toward me. I do the same. Colliding midway, we wrap our arms around each other, jumping up and down as we hug.

  “What are you doing here?” I’m still shrieking and reeling at the unexpectedness of seeing her.

  “Dominic invited me! Surprise!”

  I can only imagine the sheer joy written across every inch of my face as I glance over at him and mouth, thank you. He grins and gives me a modest little shrug.

  Bringing Chloe back into my life means more than just about anything.

  And he knows it.

  “Why don’t you two head out to the terrace so you can catch up. I’ll have some champagne and appetizers brought out for you to enjoy.”

  Unable to believe that she’s standing next to me, I squeeze Chloe again, unwilling to let her go for even a minute. She looks amazing. Her strawberry blonde hair lays against her shoulders in thick, shiny waves. You’d think she would have a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose since her complexion is so fair, but there aren’t any. Her skin is like porcelain. The short, forest green dress she’s wearing skims her toned thighs and matches her eyes. Where I’m short and curvy, Chloe is tall and willowy.

  “Thanks, Mr. Grimaldi.” Her eyes flash and sparkle with barely suppressed mischief. We may not have been in contact for almost two years, but I know that look all too well.

  Again, happiness bursts within me like an overinflated balloon.

  Grabbing her hand, I tow my childhood best friend toward the French doors that lead to the terrace. The night is perfect for sitting and enjoying the lake breeze. The fire pit has been lit. It blazes, emitting warmth.

  There’s just so much I want to say, that I’m actually at a loss as to where to begin. An apology is poised on the tip of my tongue when Chloe leans into me and says in a sly tone, “Well, I see Uncle Dominic is still as handsome as ever.” Throwing a sultry glance over her slender shoulder, she makes a little purring noise deep in her throat.

  The apology brimming on my lips falls by the wayside as I burst into laughter. Same old Chloe. God, but I love it. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed her friendship. Even though we’ve barely begun to talk, it already feels as if the two years separating us is slipping away.

  Maybe that’s because I moved during middle school, and we were forced to stay in touch for eight years. In a way, we were used to the separation, the yawning expanse of time that continually sat between us. Then we would get together and fall right back into the old patterns of our friendship.

  As soon as I close the French door behind us, silencing the party inside, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her in for another warm hug. My apology immediately bubbles up to the surface again. “I’m so sorry, Chloe, for not staying in touch. For pushing you away.”

  When I’d needed my best friend the most, to hold my hand and tell me that everything was going to be all right, I retreated inside myself, refusing all offers of comfort. For a while, it had felt too painful to live and breathe. For my own sanity, I’d cut everything and everyone out except for Dominic. I regret losing touch with my friends now, but it was a save-yourself kind of situation back then.

  Chloe tightens her arms around me until the very breath is pressed out of my lungs. Painful as it is, I don’t want her to stop. “Listen, I can only imagine just how crappy everything was for you. I wish there had been something I could have done to help. Evelyn and Edward were like parents to me. I loved them. Maybe if we had lived closer to one another, it would have turned out differently.”

  Our colleges had been far apart- mine in Seattle, and hers in Chicago. There had been no easy way to visit for a weekend. It was too long of a drive, and plane tickets were expensive.

  In all honesty, I hadn’t been up to it. Even though I don’t say the words, I’m not sure if us being closer would have changed the outcome. After my parents’ deaths, I had been left reeling. Grief-stricken. And then depression set in. It’s an emotional concoction I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

  Dominic had been the only one capable of penetrating my despair. In a way, it was like we had been drowning together. We were the only two people who truly understood the grief the other one was feeling. When my roommate grew concerned because I was no longer getting out of bed in the morning, Dominic was who she reached out to. He dropped everything and immediately flew to Seattle.

  He picked me up at school and brought me back to my parents’ house until I was able to function like a normal human being. We lived there for about three months. He flew back to the office when necessary. Otherwise, he worked from the house, making conference calls and Skyping. He took care of all the nitty-gritty details I couldn’t bring myself to tackle.

  A fresh wave of grief washes over me as I remember the first few months after my parents died. Though there is still heartache, the pain isn’t as sharp and piercing as it used to be. Don’t get me wrong, it hurts. Losing them will always be painful, but it doesn’t feel as though it’s going to bring me to my knees the way it once could.

  Sitting on chairs near the fire, Chloe gets right down to business. “So, Dominic mentioned that you’ve moved back permanently. He said you’re now attending Northwestern.” She looks impressed.

  Pushing all those dark, heavy thoughts from my mind, I focus my attention on Chloe. On getting reacquainted with her. “Yes, I bought a place downtown. A few blocks from Lakeshore Drive.”

  She grins. “I’m so jealous! I work about a mile from there. Maybe we can grab lunch or dinner during the week.”

  My heart continues to expand. “I would love that.”

  Another impish look fills her eyes as she leans toward me. “So, tell me all about Dominic. Has some lucky lady finally tied his fine ass down?”

  I burst out laughing at her question because Chloe has always had the hots for Dominic. Truth be told, when we were both fourteen, the pair of us would watch him with big cow eyes. He was either oblivious to our crushes, or he just pretended to be.

  Either way, hearing her moon over him again makes me feel lighter. Younger. Freer. It’s a great feeling, one I want more of.

  Reaching over, I grasp her hand. “It’s really good to see you, Chloe. I’m glad you were able to make it tonight.”

  Her eyes soften. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. We have so much to cat
ch up on.”

  Yes, we certainly do. And I’m looking forward to finding out every single detail regarding what she’s been up to for the last two years.

  Chapter Five

  Dominic wanted me to spend the night at his place, but I decided to head home after the party. My ears still ring with laughter, chatter, and music. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Everyone was so warm and welcoming. Not only was it nice to reconnect with Chloe, but with others who’d also known my family before we moved to Seattle.

  At one point, after many glasses of alcohol had been consumed, someone cranked up the sound system, and everyone started dancing.

  To music from the eighties.

  It’s never good when people of a certain age start busting a move.

  What am I saying? It was hilarious.

  Even Dominic was out there shaking his moneymaker. Unable to resist, Chloe had dragged me out onto the makeshift dance floor as well. Chloe has never been able to resist the lure of dance music.

  Everyone seemed to have a fantastic time.

  Me, included.

  Feeling tired, I stare out the window of the Range Rover as it moves through the city. I can’t help but be enthralled by the lit-up buildings as we travel south. It’s a captivating sight.

  Listening to so many stories about my parents makes me feel nostalgic. I can’t deny that my feelings are tinged at the edges with sadness. It’s difficult to think about them without feeling sorrow. I enjoyed hearing every single memory their old friends and colleagues shared with me, but it’s difficult because I know I won’t ever see them again.

  I’m finally ready to embark on a new phase of my life. One without them. They were there when I started college, but they didn’t get to see me walk across the stage and graduate. Nor will they be there to celebrate any other milestone life has in store for me.

  For that reason, there will always be something missing.

  Before I realize it, we’re pulling up to the front of Lexington Place. My new home. It doesn’t feel like home yet, but it will with enough time. I scoot out of the SUV as Henry opens the door and head toward the building. George works the day shift. Someone else mans the door during the evenings. He’s tall and gaunt-looking. With a smile in place, he tips his hat before allowing me inside. I call for the elevator, thinking about how good it will feel to take off all this finery and slide beneath the comfy cotton sheets I just purchased.

  As I unlock the door to my condo, silence greets me. It’s both a relief after the party, as well as a reminder that I’m on my own. No longer do I live with my parents. Nor do I share a dorm with a roommate. After two years of slogging uphill, trying to move past what happened, I’m finally moving forward again.

  Slipping off the gorgeous silver heels, I hold them in my hand as I pad into the immense, open space of the living room. My sleek gray couch and two tufted chairs, along with a stylish glass coffee table, rest on a plush area rug. The long expanse of floor to ceiling windows remain unadorned. The glass is tinted. I’m able to see out, but no one can see in. It seems like a crime to cover such a gorgeous sight.

  People pay millions for this kind of view.

  The condo is over three thousand square feet, with three generously-sized bedrooms, a large, mahogany-paneled study, a huge gourmet kitchen with white cabinets and gray marble, a formal dining room with pillars and a coffered ceiling, and a living room with a tall, soaring ceiling. An ocean of dark, glossy hardwoods flow throughout the entire place and the ornate crown molding matches it.

  I love it.

  I can imagine myself being happy here someday.

  As much as Dominic tried to cajole me into staying with him, he didn’t have anything negative to say after touring this building. I think the heated swimming pool on the rooftop and gym on one of the lower floors impressed him. I feel incredibly lucky to have snagged this place.

  I don’t bother flicking on the lights. The illumination from the city shines through the windows. The view, even at night, is completely breathtaking. Every evening, around seven o’clock or so, I find myself gravitating to the terrace with a glass of wine.

  It may be almost two in the morning, but I find myself drawn to the private patio. There’s just something about the bustle of the city below. It never seems to sleep, no matter what time it is. I may be alone, but when I’m out there, watching the world unfold, I don’t feel quite so lonely. I feel like I’m part of the irrepressible energy that is Chicago.

  Even though I should be exhausted, I’m oddly restless.

  Perhaps sipping a glass of wine on the terrace while enjoying the city is exactly what I need. I don’t bother changing out of my gown. My hair is still piled on my head. The sapphire and diamond necklace shimmers against the paleness of my collarbone. Going to the butler’s pantry, I pour myself a small glass of white. The need to feel the wind brushing over my cheeks pounds through me like a steady drumbeat.

  Tonight feels like a turning point of sorts.

  I moved in over a week ago and have done little things to make this place homier, but the party makes me feel like I really am moving on with my life. I think my parents would be proud of me. For graduating college, getting accepted at Northwestern, and pursuing my dreams of working for a museum.

  Settling onto one of two chaise loungers I’ve recently acquired, I gaze out into the vast darkness. Although I’m right across from the lake, a long stretch of greenery separates me from Lakeshore Drive. Closing my eyes, I hear the churning of water over the sounds of traffic that never seem to stop.

  There’s something soothing about it.

  Taking a sip of wine, I can’t help but dwell on how far I’ve come in the past two years. There were times, especially during the first six months, when I didn’t think I would make it. Times when I had wished I were dead and not struggling just to make it through another day.

  Being on the other side, on the cusp of starting a brand-new life in a city that I’ve always considered to be my home and reconnecting with my best friend feels like a victory.

  Life, I muse silently, goes on. No matter what happens, no matter how horrific the aftermath, it continues to unfold. That, I suppose, is the only thing that can be counted on.

  As I sit, contemplating what the future holds and all of the infinite opportunities that suddenly feel exciting and possible, I hear the French door from the condo next to me open before closing with a resounding thud.

  For just a heartbeat or so, my ears are met with silence.

  I suspect that my neighbor, the attractive man I couldn’t stop staring at in the elevator, has come out to enjoy the balmy evening as well. Summer will soon be over. Within a matter of weeks, the weather will begin to turn cooler. The cold crispness of autumn will be ushered in.

  I can’t say that I’m not looking forward to down jackets, Ugg boots, cashmere gloves, and colorful scarfs. Believe it or not, I’ve missed Midwestern winters. Seattle is more temperate. It has rain and gray skies rather than brilliant sunshine and glittering snow on bare tree branches.

  I haven’t seen Mr. Tall, Dark, and Ridiculously Handsome since making a fool out of myself by ogling him like a lovesick teenager. Trust me, I’ve been on the lookout. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I’ve loitered in the lobby. Naturally I couldn’t just come out and ask George about my sexy new neighbor. Privacy is of utmost importance here at Lexington Place. But that doesn’t mean my eyes didn’t dart to the thick glass door every time George opened it.

  Nevertheless, it was a fruitless endeavor.

  There were no sightings of my neighbor.

  Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep, calming breath. As the sound of the lake and the traffic continue washing over me, I hear the long, keening moan of a woman.

  My eyes widen as my mouth opens to form a small, round O. Every muscle in my body tenses. I sit completely still, wondering if I really heard what I think I just heard. But now, as I listen harder, all that meets my pricked ears are the sounds of the city be
neath me. Just as I begin to relax on the thickly padded teak lounger I’m sprawled out on, I hear it again.

  Only louder. Deeper. Throatier.

  Feeling slightly amused, I press my lips tightly together to stifle my laughter.

  Yep.

  That is most definitely the sound of a woman being pleasured. I bite my lower lip, wondering if I should sneak back inside to give them a bit of privacy. Although, if they had wanted privacy, they wouldn’t be out here where their closest neighbors could overhear them.

  Her moans, soft and breathy at first, grow increasingly more guttural. More vocal. More frenzied. As if she’s deeply aroused by whatever is going on over there. I hate to admit it, because it makes me feel like a huge perv, but I’d be lying through my teeth if I didn’t confess that I was getting turned on just listening to her. I can’t imagine what the attractive man next door is doing to elicit such a response.

  Well, that’s not altogether true.

  It’s not like I haven’t had sex before. I have. The caveat is that I don’t remember ever sounding like that. Which, if I’m being perfectly honest with myself, seems like a real shame.

  Somehow, I just knew that the man in the elevator would be an amazing lover. I don’t know what made me think that. Maybe it’s his dark, swarthy good looks. Or the width of his palms. Or the full sexiness of his mouth. Perhaps it has more to do with his commanding presence. There was just this undeniable… vibe emanating from him. The simple act of staring at him had my belly prickling with wave after wave of sexual tension.

  Then I hear him.

  The slightest hint of an accent in his deep, gravelly voice arrows straight through me, hitting my clit. I shiver with need, which is a reaction I’ve never experienced before.

  You like that, baby?

  Oh God…

  I stifle the whimper of desire that tries to fall from my lips before shifting my body ever so slightly on the lounger. I clench my thighs, but it does little to alleviate the ache. My entire body feels strung tight with thick, sexual tension as desire blooms within me like a flower. Closing my eyes, I lift my arms high above my head, stretching as her breathy moans continue washing over me.