Empowered

by Cynthia Dane

  I should have guessed. No man can be trusted with my vulnerability. Sarah broke off the kiss before she became smitten again.

  “You’re welcome to do some digging yourself.”

  Sarah finished putting on her clothes and left the bedroom. Lucas followed at a respectful distance.

  “We’re not dating,” she announced at his front door. “As far as I’m concerned, you can leave me the fuck alone at work. And in private.”

  He lowered his arms. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “You think it’s going to change?”

  “I think you’ll calm down eventually.”

  “Fuck off and die,” she spat. Sarah did not wait for him to come after her. She slammed the front door shut and hurried home as quickly as possible.

  ***

  Lucas only sent her one text that night. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave the ball in your court.”

  Yeah, well, he could still fuck off and die.

  Nigel was in the living room when Sarah stormed through the door and went straight to her bedroom. It took him exactly two minutes to knock on her door.

  “Go away!” she was already half undressed and determined to take yet another shower. She needed to wash the stain of Lucas Blackbourne away.

  Too bad she forgot to lock her door. Nigel entered, his demeanor implicating that he didn’t care if his sister pushed him back out or not. “Things didn’t go well on your date, huh?”

  She flopped onto her bed, pants off, not giving a fuck. Nothing Nigel hadn’t seen before. “How did you know it was a date?”

  He sat near her, the bed slightly giving way to his weight. “The less details you give me, the more I assume it’s a date.”

  “Maybe I like having some secrets.”

  “Last time you kept secrets from me, bad shit happened.”

  Don’t remind me. Don’t be like him and remind me. “Leave me alone.”

  He let her stew in silence. That was Nigel’s way: offer his presence, his unwavering support, but not say a word unless prompted. Sarah was not going to prompt him.

  I can’t believe I was so stupid. I should have known men like that can’t keep their noses out of shit.

  “What happened?”

  Sarah rolled over and silently told her brother to mind his own damn business.

  “All right. Who gets punched next? That’s the manly thing I’m supposed to say, right?”

  “Don’t need you punching anyone. I handled it.”

  Again, silence.

  “You know…” Nigel lay back, his head landing two inches away from her stomach. “It hurts me too. What happened to you.”

  “Oh my God, don’t even.”

  The men in Sarah’s life, unfortunately, did not know how to shut the fuck up. “I think about it every day.”

  “Trust me when I say it sucked more for me.”

  “I know, but what hurts you hurts me too.” Sarah knew from the way his words caught in his throat that there was something else he wanted to say. “I think of it as our baby that was stolen from us.”

  “That’s the most incestuous thing you’ve ever said. No wonder people think we’re fucked up.”

  “I’m serious. I was going to help you raise it.”

  “Him.”

  “Yeah, him.”

  Sarah rolled back over away from her brother. “You would’ve been an awesome uncle.”

  “Crazy, huh? Never was sure if I wanted kids. But when you told me you were pregnant, one of the first things I thought was that I couldn’t wait to be an uncle.”

  Now that’s never going to happen. Unless her doctors were wrong about the infertility foisted upon her. And if I ever do miraculously get pregnant, we’ll probably both die. Where was she in this decision? Who got to decide this on her behalf? Some old shit who stroked himself into a wheelchair?

  What the fuck did Lucas really know?

  “If you knock your girlfriend up,” Sarah said, “you’re on your own, buddy.”

  Nigel reached back and awkwardly patted her arm. “I knew you had my back.”

  “Shut up and make us some popcorn. I wanna get fat before work tomorrow.”

  “Okay, but put some pants on. And you say I’m the reason people think we’re incestual…”

  Sarah waited until she heard the microwave in the kitchen before slipping off her bed and looking for a pair of yoga pants. She hoped there was good enough late night TV on, because she intended to eat popcorn, drink more wine, and fall asleep on her brother’s shoulder. But as she nodded off to the sounds of Stephen Colbert interviewing Hollywood’s latest it-girl, she wondered if Lucas was in his penthouse wishing she were there with him.

  She then wondered why she cared at all.

  Chapter 12

  Sarah psyched herself up before heading into work Friday morning. Lucas would be there, and if he were up to his usual tricks, he’d do everything he could to get her attention. He loved attention of any kind, didn’t he? Even giving him negative attention would make his day.

  She would be professional. That was it.

  However, Lucas was not already at the office by the time Sarah arrived. Nor did he show up a few minutes late. At first, Sarah went into panic mode, not because she wanted to see the prying bastard, but because he and Mr. Monroe were due in a meeting at 9:30.

  Yet Mr. Monroe was perfectly calm as he prepared for the meeting in his office. Alisha popped in to confirm she would head to the manor that afternoon to check in on Russell Monroe before leaving the room again. Mrs. Alice Monroe hustled by with a request to see Sarah as soon as the meeting was over. Nobody mentioned Mr. Blackbourne.

  Damnit. Sarah was going to have to do it, wasn’t she?

  “May I ask where Mr. Blackbourne is?” she asked her boss. “I thought I’d be taking notes for the both of you this morning.”

  “You’re in luck. He called in this morning.”

  “Called… in?”

  Mr. Monroe didn’t often look at her when they spoke, but that morning he made a point of glaring at her through the corners of his eyes. “Personal matters. Nothing that concerns us.”

  That was the polite way of saying nothing that concerns you.

  Alice Monroe hovered around her husband’s door an hour later. Sarah emerged first, tablet filled with notes her boss expected her to compile into readable sentences. Rather hard to accomplish when the boss’s wife came straight for her the moment she had a breath to herself.

  “I have an errand for you.” She directed Sarah toward her desk. Sarah didn’t bother to sit down. “Since Alisha is… out… you’re the only other one who can help me this morning.”

  “What is it, Mrs. Monroe?”

  “I need you to stop by Mr. Lowenstein’s home and pick up some files he has prepared for me. The man threw his back out and will be on his couch for a while. Either his housekeeper or one of his assistants will pass off the files to you. You can take my car. Does that sound okay?”

  “I’ll leave in a few minutes.” She could type up some notes in the car. Perhaps that would spare her some time before lunch. I haven’t been to the gym in forever. Her bosses rarely gave her time to enjoy her free access.

  “Thank you, Sarah.”

  Sometimes it threw Sarah off that her female boss called her by her first name. Was it a sign of friendliness between them? Or did it mean that Alice thought so lowly of the help that they didn’t even deserve formalities?

  Sarah grabbed her things a few minutes later and took the elevator down. Mrs. Monroe’s car and driver awaited her by the curb. She looked at her phone, and was somewhat disappointed that Lucas hadn’t tried to contact her. Only somewhat, though.

  ***

  “Thank you. Tell your employer that I hope he feels better soon.” Sarah stepped down the steep stoop of the townhouse as soon as the manila folders were in her hand. Mrs. Monroe’s black sedan idled by the curb on a street that was barely big enough for two-way traffic.

  It was an old neighborhoo
d. An old but affluent neighborhood, where at least three generations could claim to be doctors, lawyers, professors, vice presidents of large companies… basically, not rich enough to own their own penthouses or manors, but rich enough to claim this historical part of town for their families. The brick townhouses were some of the first luxury single-family homes built in the city hundreds of years ago. The ex-wives of billionaires lived here on nothing but alimony. There she goes now. Caroline Grant-Mathers hustled down her stone walkway and ducked into a taxi without a single regard for anyone around her.

  Sarah opened the back door to Mrs. Monroe’s sedan and slipped in. As soon as she closed the door behind her, another black car slowly passed by on the street.

  She didn’t think much of it as the driver recalibrated his GPS. Sarah buckled up and happened to glance out the tinted window as the other car came to a stop in front of a different townhouse. What fantastic timing! Because that was Lucas Blackbourne emerging from the back before his driver or bodyguard could open the door for him. And the bodyguard stood very close as the two men approached the door of someone else’s home.

  “Wait,” Sarah said to the driver before he could pull out onto the street again. “Mr. Monroe might want to know about this.” She turned on the camera to her cell phone and held it up to the window, flash on.

  Let’s see what skeletons you have in your closet, Luke. Sarah wouldn’t feel guilty even under normal circumstances. After last night? It was a miracle she didn’t get out and make a spectacle of spying on him.

  Who lived here? Another booty call? The wife he claimed to have divorced?

  Lucas stood in the middle of the front yard, his bodyguard right behind him, alert. The black townhouse door opened. A much older woman with gray hair and a matronly sense of style stepped out before calling into the house.

  A little boy who couldn’t be old enough for kindergarten bounded out and ran right into Lucas’s waiting arms.

  The way the man picked the boy up and hugged him, their hair color identical, their smiles that same boisterous blasphemy… Sarah put her phone down, shocked.

  She was in for a greater shock when a woman closer to their age stepped out of the house, in the midst of putting on an earring. Her fresh-off-the-runway dress instantly marked her as a woman used to having means.

  She also had familiarity with Lucas, for she said something to him before kissing the boy on the head and continuing her way… to Lucas’s car.

  The driver made sure she was situated before heading down the street. As soon as the black car rounded the next corner, Lucas put the boy down, their hands clasped and voices ringing toward the older woman still standing in the doorway.

  Sarah could barely hear them.

  “I hear your housekeeper makes the best grilled cheese around, Sonia.”

  “That’s what I hear too.” She put her hand on the boy’s head. “What do we say, Victor?”

  “Can Daddy come in?”

  “May Daddy come in.”

  “And June and July and August.”

  Lucas shrugged. “He’s bright about what matters most.”

  The woman stepped out of the way so father and son could enter. Sarah had seen enough. She told the driver to head back to the office.

  You lying sack of shit. Sarah almost hoped he would see her on the way by, but the windows were too dark. Besides, Lucas only had eyes for the little boy leading him into the townhouse. Sarah would know the look of a doting parent anywhere.

  Personal matters. Personal. Fucking. Matters.

  Sarah was too disgusted to even send him hate-texts. Perhaps he had never lied about being divorced. But having a kid? That seemed rather important. And wasn’t it curious that it hadn’t been in any of his public profiles?

  An illegitimate son. That had to be it. The woman rushing by was the kid’s mother. The reason for the divorce? Cheating bastard scum!

  What did that make Sarah?

  No longer giving a fuck about his shit, that’s what.

  ***

  “You gonna answer that?”

  Sarah’s phone continued to ring on the kitchen counter, where she had left it while preparing and eating dinner. Nigel stood in front of the sink doing the dishes. Did he have a problem with her ringtone or something?

  She glanced at the caller. “Nope.”

  “Block it, then.”

  “Nah.” Almost amusing to see how persistent Lucas was. This was his third call of the evening. What? Was he finished playing with his little boy for the day? Sitting at home feeling lonely? Wanted his booty-call Sarah Clayborn to show up and give him a great hummer? What is this? His shower? To be fair, he had given as well as he had taken from her. Damnit, don’t think about him going down on you in the shower. Sitting on that bench, water spraying on them… “Nah,” she said again.

  Nigel grabbed his earbuds and plugged them into his phone. That was one way to ignore his sister’s incessantly ringing phone.

  She was busy, anyway. Busy packing for a trip to New York to stop by her favorite club. She’d have to take the train instead of flying this last-minute, but she didn’t care. That gave her more time to get into the headspace of the persona lurking in the back of her closet.

  Angel had been dormant for too long. If anyone could help get Lucas out of Sarah’s system, it was that trashy, slutty blonde. She was the one who got them into this mess, anyway. The least Angel could do was pull Sarah back out of it.

  This time tomorrow, she fully intended to be up to her chin in hot, eligible men who were ready to give her exactly what she wanted. None of those silly mind games Lucas liked to play. Maybe they were also cheating bastards, but they wouldn’t lie about it – for long. Angel had no morals. Sarah was starting to think her persona had the right idea. The less she cared about the men she fucked, the better. Here was hoping the next guy (guys? Was it gangbang night at the club yet?) didn’t show up at her damn office Monday morning.

  “What are you thinking about over there?” Nigel asked as soon as the dishes were finished. “You look like a supervillain plotting the demise of the city.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Nigel shrugged. “Yeah?”

  Her poor baby brother (by five minutes, but who was really counting?) wouldn’t be able to handle the answer. Sarah grabbed her phone, turned it off, and went into her room to pack.

  Chapter 13

  While Sarah didn’t have anyone she would call a “friend” in New York, she saw a plethora of familiar faces when she stepped into the club Saturday night. Staff, like the bartender who knew exactly what she liked and the bouncers who always kept an eye on her, nodded their heads or heaved a sigh of relief that some sort of party had arrived. A few locals who frequented the place as often as she did waved before going back to their cocktail conversations. A Spanish shipping magnate gave her a knowing look as she walked by to pick up her drink. The man did not touch or speak to her, but his presence was instantly discernable. Thinking about the good times, Pedro? Eh, he was an all right lover. Self-absorbed, involved, not about to put his mouth where he put his dick…

  “Anything wild happening tonight?” Sarah asked the bartender. Her blond wig threatened to get into her drink, and considering the amount of grenadine in it? Gross. Sarah tossed the fake blond locks over her shoulder, enticing Pedro even more.

  “There’s some business meeting going on in the back. They’ll let you in, I’m sure. Just don’t hold your breath regarding the pickings. A lot of women here tonight.”

  Maybe that’s what I need to not think about Lucas for a night. Sarah did not consider herself bisexual, but she was not above fooling around with a woman if that’s what Angel fancied. Perhaps tonight would be an excellent night for finding a frisky couple looking to spice up their marriage. When was the last time she got involved in a threesome? Five months ago?

  Or maybe it was a lesbian convention for all she knew. Whatever. As long as Mr. Blackbourne was out of her brain by the end of the
night, she didn’t care who she fucked.

  Well, maybe I’ll pass on Pedro tonight. He had stopped paying attention to her, anyway.

  “Thanks.” Sarah grabbed her drink and headed deeper into the club.

  She found some prime real estate within twenty seconds. Three young, handsome and well-dressed men crowded around a table and laughed at some end-of-the-week joke. At least one of them had to be game for some fun with a strange woman that night. Maybe two of them.

  “Gentlemen,” she interrupted with a slight sway of her hips. “Can I interest any of you in another drink? I’ll be more than happy to go get it for you and bring it back. Maybe with one less article of clothing, if I think you’re cute.”

  The three men were more than happy to accept a beautiful woman into their midst. At first. But, as Sarah discovered, they soon declined her offer to get them drinks and join them in their after-business celebrations. The leader of the group politely brushed her off by suggesting another group of young rabble-rousers might enjoy her company instead.

  Except the next pair likewise took one look at her and turned around again. A man and his younger wife looked her up and down before passing on her as well. Sarah huffed her way deeper into the club, where the men might be more likely to give up some time.

  They certainly took longer to turn her down. Some of them would engage in conversation long enough to catch her face in the light, only to pale in sickly shock and find some excuse to get away from her. Others pretended to be interested in her only to disappear into the bathroom, never to be seen again. One woman flat out told Sarah to stay away from her, because “she didn’t want any trouble.”

  Did Sarah have some undesirable sign hung around her neck? Had she developed a pox on the train? Was she bleeding from her eye sockets? Did the Angel of Death haunt her steps?

  She didn’t get an answer until she went back to the front of the club, where the well-lit bar welcomed her to sit down and have a drink.