by Cecilia Tan
Before Vanette could answer, the woman turned to me and hissed, “I’m Ferrara LeStrange. Who are you?”
Vanette put an arm around me protectively. “She’s a club trainee,” she said. “Nice to see you, Ferrara. I didn’t realize that you and James had actually married.”
James, married?
“Last year,” the woman said, waving her hand as if throwing away a piece of trash. “In the States. He’s been dodging me for months though.”
“Oh, truly? He has visited our London location a few times recently.”
“I didn’t think he did that sort of thing anymore,” the woman said. She snapped her fingers, and a man standing behind her handed her a clutch purse. She took a business card out of it and handed it to Vanette. “I would appreciate it if you would let me know if he returns. I can’t believe the bastard slipped through my fingers!”
“I’ll be certain to let you know,” Vanette said to her, then to me, “Come. It’s time we were going.”
“Yes, Vanette,” I said automatically, trying to keep my expression as blank as possible as she led me away from the scene.
The anger that made me bolt from the car was still boiling. James had a lot more explaining to do than I’d even guessed. He sent Damon to test me? And then got bent out of shape about it? He was the one who needed a fucking test: he needed his head examined. And now I find out I’m not the only woman he’s hiding from?
“Who the fuck is Ferrara LeStrange?” I burst out, as Vanette turned a corner.
“She is the very definition of trouble.” Vanette looked behind us, as if checking that the woman was no longer in sight. “More than that, I cannot say. I cannot break the confidence of a club member.”
“Oh come on, Vanette!” I had to suck in a breath to keep angry tears from spilling over my face. “I spend the entire summer trying to find the bastard and then she shows up and…poof! He’s gone! Who is she? What’s her problem? For that matter, what’s his problem? No one’s giving me any answers! He’s married?”
“Well, so she claims.”
“Claims? What’s her story?”
But it was no use. Vanette just shook her head and clammed up again.
She didn’t deserve the brunt of my anger, but I couldn’t stop it. “I thought you would help me!”
She was very calm and didn’t answer with words. Instead, she gently steered me back toward the gallery, where it appeared Ferrara and her accomplice had left. I resisted for a moment but then went.
I repeated more weakly, now that I had vented some, “I really thought you would help me.”
She stopped us outside the door to the gallery. “I don’t know if I can help, Karina. There’s only so much I can do. Here.” She handed me her card and emphasized once more, “I can’t violate the privacy of society members. But for anything else…”
I took the card and went inside.
Epilogue
I lugged my carry-on bag through the crowded duty-free area, looking for a seat. I was exhausted. I had barely slept last night, crying over tea to Paul and Misha, who were very sympathetic but who couldn’t help me any more than Vanette did, really. I was too upset to really absorb the fine details or wild speculations they had about the woman they called Ferrara Huntington. They were just telling me they knew her as the wife of a record company executive when my phone had rung again. Jill had arrived in Ohio to find my mom’s house robbed. Normally my sister is pretty hard to shake, but the thought that it might have been my mom’s supposed boyfriend who robbed the place while she was in the hospital was a scary one. And while Jill went to stay with a neighbor, I immediately searched for the next flight I could get there, which was first thing in the morning. I woke up poor Reginald Martindale to tell him the news, and he graciously agreed to pay for the astronomically expensive last-minute ticket. I told him he should charge James for it. Now that I think about it, maybe he planned to anyway.
So here I was, underslept, exhausted, still aching from the sex I’d had with James last night and feeling bruised in soul and heart over the turn of events. My bag was crammed full of gifts from Paul and Misha—some for Becky—and what souvenirs I could manage to pick up on my way to Heathrow, and I dragged it behind me tiredly. I found a place to settle at last, in front of a shop offering free scotch tasting. That was something you’d never see in an American airport, that was for sure. The whole duty-free area was like a huge shopping mall with a big central court that served as the waiting lounge, ringed with shops selling cosmetics, booze, souvenirs, and more. Passengers stayed in that central lounge until their flight number and gate were announced for boarding.
Maybe a free shot of whiskey wasn’t such a bad idea. I couldn’t stop the thoughts running around and around in my head. I’d never been so anxious in my life. My mother was in the hospital, her house in disarray, and it might have been her own boyfriend who did it. Was love worth it? Were men worth this much pain?
Ferrara certainly believed so, I thought, if she was fighting that hard to get him back.
A little voice of doubt nagged at me. Vanette had acted skeptical of Ferrara’s claims, and Paul and Misha seemed to think she was married to someone else. But if there was no marriage, then why was James hiding from her? Was she just a crazy fan? And if the marriage was real, why keep it a secret?
For that matter, why was everything with James a secret? I felt angry and disgusted all over again. I still loved him, and my body ached for him, but I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t live a life where everything was about hiding and keeping things from people. How many times had he asked me what I really wanted in life? Who was the real Karina? Now it struck me as terribly ironic that he’d asked me those things. What about you, James? Is there a real you under there, or am I in love with a phantom? Am I in love with the man you wish you could be, but aren’t?
I was angry with him, and I was angry with myself for being so hung up on him.
I was so deep in my turmoil of thoughts that I nearly missed it when they called my flight. I finally heard it on the last call. The distance to the gate was so hugely long, it felt like I was walking forever, and I finally broke into a run, fearing I was going to miss it. When I got there, though, they didn’t act like it was at all odd that a flustered American was the last one to board the plane. Thank goodness. If they’d been snarky or judgmental I think I would have lost it.
I made it to my seat. I took out my phone to turn it off and then jumped as it rang in my hand.
The caller ID showed it was James. I silenced the ringer. A flight attendant was coming down the row, checking that we were ready for takeoff. I turned it off and stowed it before she could scold me about it. I could not answer the phone now, even if I had wanted to.
And you know what? I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Yes, I was full of questions, but I was done with chasing and digging and piecing things together. When he couldn’t reach me he’d call Paul and Misha and find out I was on an emergency trip back to the States, but right then I wanted him to stew in it. It was his turn to wonder what was going through my head for a change. It was his turn to wonder what he did wrong to drive me away. If he really loved me, if he was sorry, he wouldn’t let a little thing like the Atlantic Ocean get in his way. After all, I hadn’t.
If he wanted to give me some big explanation about why he ran away and why he was hiding, if he felt I deserved that much, he’d follow me.
It was his turn to prove there was something there. It was his turn to chase me.
Karina and James’s steamy adventure continues…
Please see the next page for a preview of
Slow Satisfaction.
A Preview of Slow Satisfaction
Dearest Karina,
I have no idea if you’ll read this. I hope you will. I decided to sit down and write it because it seems whenever I try to explain myself to you in person, either my passions get the most of me, or my fears do. Perhaps sitting down in a quiet place to compose this, without the distrac
tion of your presence, I can put my feelings into words.
First, an apology. I regret many things, but none more than how much I hurt you. I have no excuse. My past is my past. My baggage is heavy, and perhaps now you can see why I wanted a fresh start with you, as if I had no past, no attachments, no burdens. You gave me the freedom to be myself and to love you without reservations. I wish I had been able to keep my past and my demons at bay for one more day back in April, and I wish it again now. I’m sorry. I let my fears get the better of me that night at the ball, my suspicions and my paranoias blinding me to what I had right in front of me.
The love of my life.
I’m a fool. Maybe that means I don’t deserve you. Stefan, who has never said a word out of line in all the time he has worked for me, even told me I had made a mistake that night.
I hope you will let me apologize in person. I have so much more to tell you, so much that I dare not put in a letter. I want to tell you everything. Everything you want to know, anyway. It might take years. But I want to spend years with you. I want to share my life with you. Whatever life I’m going to have going forward from this moment, I can’t imagine it without you.
That life is about to get very complicated again.
I thought I had put a whole chapter of my life behind me when we met. I thought my contractual obligations to my record company had been fulfilled and I thought various other obligations had been invalidated, but I see now that the book is not closed as I had thought. I cannot say more in a letter, but please let me tell you in person.
I do not know what will happen from this point. I would disappear completely, into anonymity in some distant country, perhaps, except for you. There is no other woman like you in the world, and I was a fool not to love you as you deserve.
Please let me try.
Yours, heart, body, and soul,
James Byron LeStrange
About the Author
Cecilia Tan is a writer, editor, and sexuality activist. She is the author of Mind Games, The Hot Streak, White Flames, Edge Plays, Black Feathers, The Velderet, and Telepaths Don’t Need Safewords, as well as the Magic University series of paranormal erotic romances. She has the distinction of being perhaps the only writer to have erotic fiction published in both Penthouse and Ms. magazine, as well as in scores of other magazines and anthologies including Asimov’s, Best American Erotica, and Nerve. She is the founder and editor of Circlet Press, publishers of erotic science fiction and fantasy. She is also the media relations director for the New England Leather Alliance (NELA).
You can learn more at:
CeciliaTan.com
Twitter @ceciliatan
Facebook.com/thececiliatan
Also by Cecilia Tan
Slow Surrender
Slow Satisfaction (coming in 2014)
Black Feathers
Daron’s Guitar Chronicles
The Incubus and the Angel
Mind Games
The Poet and the Prophecy
The Prince’s Boy
The Siren and the Sword
Telepaths Don’t Need Safewords
The Tower and the Tears
The Velderet
White Flames
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Contents
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Epigraph
Acknowledgments
One: Break the Sky in Two
Two: You Wouldn’t Believe What I’ve Been Through
Three: Too Cool to Fool
Four: This Girl Is Made of Loneliness
Five: Boys Always Work it Out
Six: The Stars Look Very Different Today
Seven: Camouflaged Face
Eight: Strange Doors That We Never Close Again
Nine: Breathe For a Long Time
Ten: Driven by the Night
Eleven: Run for the Shadows
Twelve: Images of Broken Light
Thirteen: Love Is My Bet
Fourteen: Love Dares You to Care
Fifteen: I’ll Place the Moon Within Your Heart
Epilogue
A Preview of Slow Satisfaction
About the Author
Also by Cecilia Tan
Newsletters
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Cecilia Tan
Excerpt from Slow Satisfaction copyright © 2013 by Cecilia Tan
Cover design by Brigid Pearson
Cover photo by Alberto Incrocci/Getty Images
Cover copyright © 2013 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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First Edition: January 2014
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ISBN: 978-1-4555-2924-7
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