by Shayne Ford
“Go to hell, Jaden.”
His response comes swiftly in the form of a forceful thrust that pushes me into the wall and almost splits me inside.
His fist pulls my hair back, forcing me to arch my neck. His lips slide onto my skin and then the sharp edge of his teeth.
“That’s what you hate about me. You got hooked on me a year ago, and I became your addiction. Your flesh doesn’t lie.”
I shift. He blocks me with his torso while clicking his tongue.
“Nah-uh. You will go when I let you go.”
His breath is strained and heavy. He cups my mounds and rocks his hips harder and faster. My back is glued to his chest, his arms locked around me.
I lean on him, panting, my heart racing as fast as his. Whatever words we had between us, they’re long gone.
Silent, I let him enter me. Regret may come to me later on, but right I can’t be bothered. I drink the pleasure to the last drop, getting drunk, confused, and torn.
He fucks me as if nothing happened between us. As if there was no lapse of time. As if he didn’t put his fist into my heart. As if there is no woman waiting for him outside.
He fucks me, wild, and lifts me to another peak and once I have it, then he comes, grunting and shuddering behind me.
Sadness comes to me as everything begins to settle. The high is gone, the words are futile.
He pulls out of me, tosses the condom in the trash, and slides his back against the wall, his hand still stroking his cock. His chest still pumping extra air. A fiery smile flickers across his lips as he observes me through his lashes.
“So much for someone who’s dead inside...” he mutters.
I let the gown down, reach back to keep the dress together and stick the purse under my arm.
“Fuck you, Jaden.”
Without another word, I spin away and slip out the door.
8
SENNA
I’m amazed I can still walk. I’m surprised I can put one foot in front of the other and pull away from him.
I run a trembling hand through my hair while holding my dress with the other. Dazed, I slide my gaze over the wall of glass that stretches on the left, checking my reflection.
I look like hell.
My phone vibrates with a message. I slant my eyes down. Shit. The car’s been waiting for some time. I text my driver back and rush down the stairs just when the place begins to get animated. The doors to the event room are wide open, people flooding the first floor.
Taking a sharp left, I dash out of the building as quickly as I can. The last thing I want right now is to run into Evelyne.
Fresh air rolls over me as I walk outside. The evening has already set in, streetlights casting a soft glow over the sidewalk.
“Good evening, Miss.”
The driver holds the door open for me and softly nods as I slip inside.
He closes the door and hurries to his seat while I roll the window down. A soft breeze fans over my lips.
I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.
“Are we going home, Miss?” the driver asks, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“Yes, please.”
He starts the ignition and steers left, pulling away from the building when my gaze gets snagged by the beautiful woman Jaden has had slung over his arm.
It’s her dress that draws my attention again. The fiery red gown fashioning a revealing cleavage at the front as well. As the car passes by, I get a glimpse of her face. She’s as beautiful as I expected. Symmetrical features, big eyes, pouty lips. She’s about my age. Perhaps older.
She raises her eyes from her phone a couple of times and looks toward the entrance. Searching for him, I imagine. Her gaze shifts to the screen as she starts typing. She leans against a high-end, silver sports car. His ride, most likely.
Numb, I turn my eyes away from her and pull my mind away from him, this building, the evening and our past together.
Fuck him.
The car glides away, putting much-needed distance between us.
One hour later, I enter my home.
I turn a lamp on, and walk across the lobby, floating like a ghost. Struggling, I drag my feet up the stairs and to the master bedroom, extra effort going in every step. I walk into the room, toss the clutch on the bed, and dash to the shower.
I take one step in and freeze in the middle of the bathroom, my eyes pinned on the mirror.
What happened to me?
I take a step toward the mirror and bring my hands to my face, studying myself, puzzled by my reflection.
A stranger gazes back at me.
Is this she?
My hair is a complete mess, my makeup almost gone, my skin pale and lips bloodless, and yet, my eyes... They tell a different story. My eyes have never burned like this––molten amber lined by raven lashes.
I lean forward as I inspect my face. There’s something different about me. I tip my face to the side and run my gaze and fingers on my jawline.
My face looks leaner, my cheeks hollower... And my eyes even deeper. There's a softness buried in their whiskey color, reminding me of the past.
My mouth drops open with surprise.
Oh, my God.
The woman looking back at me... She is the girl I used to be. My features are softer, and my lips curve into a different kind of smile. Warmer. Tender.
I run my fingers through my hair before I trace my cheeks.
It can’t be.
Slowly, I slide my gown off and step out of my heels.
I glance in the mirror again. The curtain of dark hair splits over my shoulders, waves tumbling down, touching my nipples. I tilt my head and comb my hair to the side as well.
With tenderness, I touch my skin. I can see the imprint of his teeth. The lines are red and swollen and so sensitive to the touch. Lower, I find a reddish patch of skin. Those were his lips.
My gaze slides even lower.
A few red lines on my breasts bring back the memory of him again. Despite the signs and marks––his branding, my body celebrates his touch.
“Jaden...” I murmur, baffled.
How is that possible? How can he do that?
I feel so good inside, and yet I’m so conflicted.
How can he possibly bring her back?
He’s not good news. He never was. And yet, a good feeling grows in me. I’m no longer empty inside.
“Do you leave early?”
Harper pops into my office at the same time as her words.
Her face beams with a smile.
“No... Why? What’s going on?” I ask, giving her a quick once-over.
The blue cobalt dress features a stylish bateau neckline and a silver metallic belt.
“Are you going on a date or something?”
She stays quiet.
“Are you ?” I toss at her casually.
Her cheeks turn crimson.
I push back in my chair, grinning.
“No...” I mutter. “Don’t tell me,” I say washed with disbelief.
She gets busy with the vase sitting on my desk, making sure that the tulips are spread out uniformly, and the colors match.
Her eyes flipped at me.
Smiling like a fox, she gives me a soft nod.
“It’s the second date,” she says, nodding a couple more times.
“Harper?”
“Yes?”
She seems a bit startled.
“You and Abel?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“How was it?”
She looks at me, her eyes gleaming with a smile.
“It’s even better than I thought.”
“I told you,” I say. “I’m so happy for you.”
Her eyebrows tilt up.
“Are you?” she asks incredulously.
“Yes, I am.”
“He’s a nice man,” she says.
“That’s why I’m so happy. For both of you actually.”
She searches my eyes for a moment, grappling with
disbelief.
“I truly am,” I say with a softer voice. “He was never my man. We met in special circumstances, and I could never be the woman for him. He’s still a good friend of mine, but everything there was between us is in the past now. He knows it, and you know it too now. All you need to do is to be your usual sweet self with him, and everything else will take care of itself. Anyway...” I say with a different voice. “Why were you asking me if I’m leaving early?”
“It’s Tony’s birthday, and we want to order something special for lunch.”
“Perfect,” I say, suddenly in a great disposition. “I’ll place the order.” I check the time on my phone. “I better do it now, before they get swamped,” I murmur to myself.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” I say.
I call the Italian restaurant located not far from us.
The trays of food arrive around one o’clock.
Harper and one of the girls set the conference room for a surprise gathering. I watch them through the wall of glass. Harper moves around coordinating everyone. I’m glad she ditched her sad clothes for stylish outfits.
Max and Tony, our two software engineers, walk into the office half an hour later. They take seats around the table, cheers drifting through the air.
I push out of my chair, heading their way when a messenger shows up in the doorway. I sign for a package, glancing briefly at the shipping label. It’s addressed to me personally, which is unusual since I almost never receive personal mail here. It’s a handwritten label, the return address unfamiliar to me. I’ve never heard of that company name.
Without giving it a second thought, I toss the parcel on the desk and spin away. It’s only after I take a couple of steps toward the door when I stop. I spin around and dash to the table, nagged by a crazy thought.
I pick up the package and tear the lid open. There’s a box inside bearing the name of a posh boutique. I slash it open with a cutter and work my way through the swishy paper.
A long, black gown almost identical to the one I wore the other evening comes into view. I pull the dress up by the straps and let it unfold. It’s sleeveless, backless, beaded from the top to the bottom. I check the label. It’s my size and the same designer. In fact, it’s part of the same runway collection.
I fish out a small envelope and pull out a handwritten note.
I’m sorry. Give me a chance to explain.
Jaden
I suck in a sharp breath, having a hard time to suppress the impulse to run the box cutter through the delicate chiffon. I let the gown drop back in the box, slide the top back on, snatch the note, my car keys and my phone, and storm out of the office.
I locate the sender’s address not far from us.
It’s a new, modern building with five levels, walls of dark blue glass, and frames of steel. Several tech start-ups set up shop here. It was one of the places I had on my list as well when I was looking for space.
The price per square feet was attractive enough, and the amenities are par to none. I opted against it in the end, mainly because it’s located downtown and the traffic is hectic. It was a big step to move my business out of my house, and I didn’t want to deal with the hustle and bustle of the city on top of that.
I check the address again before I slide my gaze to the rearview mirror briefly examining my face.
Tense, I pull the car to a stop, turn the engine off, step out, and stride across the parking lot.
A woman greets me in the lobby. She points to the concierge desk where I have to sign in and then directs me to the top floor.
I catch the elevator, a ball of jitters. Two men keep me company all the way to the last floor, their eyes dipping smoothly as I turn my back to them. The doors slide open with a hiss as we reach our destination. They let me walk out first.
A large space sprawls in front of me. Couches line the walls, pots of plants sitting on the window sills. Men and women work on their laptops, tablets or even their phones. It all looks like an organized, creative mess. Some of them sit on the couches, others straight on the floor. There is no dress code–– not that my firm has one, most of them wearing jeans and T-shirts while a few women fashion maxi dresses.
There’s no one running this mayhem. A guy who takes a break from fiddling with his tablet cares to ask me if I needed help.
I make up a quick story about a parcel received by mistake that needed to be returned. I insist on leaving it with the person called JT, the initials posted on the shipping label.
Reluctantly, he pushes out of his chair and drags his feet to the other side of the vast room, where a few cubicles are carved into the wall. He motions to a girl who rises to her feet and walks around her desk, heading in my direction.
The man is quicker, making it back to me before her.
“Miss...?”
His eyebrows lift with a questioning look.
“Lloyd. Senna Lloyd.”
A smile lights up the man’s face.
“Oh... You must be S. Lloyd. The owner of Stripped.”
“Yeah. That’s me,” I say, stifling a grin.
He stretches his hand out to meet mine.
“Sean. I’ve read everything about your company,” he says as we shake hands. “She’s looking for JT,” he tosses to the girl to stops near us.
“It was nice meeting you,” he says, still glancing over his shoulder in my direction as he smoothly pulls away.
The woman doesn’t seem impressed with me. She gives me a quick once over, expertly taking inventory of my caramel dress and black heels. Eyes rooted on my handbag, she touches her phone screen and speaks softly in her earpiece.
“You have a visitor,” she says, her eyes not leaving me for a second.
“Who is it?”
His voice lifts from the speaker, making me twice as nervous.
“Senna Lloyd. She’s returning a package.”
A pause ensues.
The woman flicks her eyes up, looking at me, intrigued.
“Let her in,” he says evenly.
Expressionless, she motions to me to follow her.
A few strides later, we take a turn, walk a few steps on a corridor and stop in front of a wooden door.
She glances at me one last time before she pushes the door open and gestures me to step in.
Feet on his desk, laptop on his knees, Jaden shoots his gaze straight to me. The few moments I hold his eyes feel like an eternity before he flicks his hand and dismisses the woman who’s waiting in the doorway.
“Close the door, Gabrielle.”
The woman shuts the door behind me.
I take a couple of strides, stop across from him, and drop the box on his desk. It lands open, the top sliding off, the gown spilling out.
“You can do better than this. I don’t need an apology. And sure enough, I don’t need a new dress.”
He slides the laptop onto his desk and pushes to his feet. The moment he straightens, the whole room fills with his presence, making my pulse spike. I do my best to look unaffected while he searches my eyes, craving some answers.
He saunters in my direction, closing the distance between us. I take a step back.
He shoots his hand up.
“I’m not touching you,” he says.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
His eyes shift to the box.
“You didn’t need to return the dress. I ruined it. I wanted to replace it. That’s all,” he says.
“I don’t need anything from you.”
“I know...” he says with a softer voice and a trace of remorse in his tone.
“I’m sure there are women who can benefit from your attention. And your gifts. And whatever else you have to offer,” I say, throwing a casual glance at his suit pants, designer shoes, and slim fit, dress shirt, molded smoothly to his arms, chest, and shoulders.
He casts a glance at me as well, his focus shifting to my hands.
&nbs
p; “There are no women,” he says with a low voice, flicking his eyes up again.
The blue-gray gaze sinks into me.
I tilt my head to the side, my mouth open in surprise.
“Do you expect me to believe you?”
He shrugs.
“It’s the truth. Would you rather hear a lie?”
“Whatever,” I say, flicking my hand. “It’s none of my business,” I say, shifting toward the door.
He takes another step and blocks my exit.
“We’re not doing that again,” I say, arching an eyebrow.
“All I want is a chance to talk,” he says as if he hasn’t heard me.
I bring my hand to his chest.
His eyes stay locked with mine as I finger his chest.
“I don’t think I want to hear you talking, Jaden. We wouldn’t be here had you not left a year ago.”
His jaw tenses.
“I––”
My hand shoots up, cutting him off.
“No. I don’t want to hear it again. You had your reasons. Fine. You left. It broke me. No problem. I glued myself back together. But don’t ask me to listen to you now. No matter how valid your reasons were, there is nothing you can say to make me feel better.”
His eyes slice through me.
“What are you afraid of?”
I breathe out a chuckle.
“Me? Afraid? I’m not afraid of anything, baby. Why would I be afraid? What can possibly scare me, Jaden?” I ask mockingly. “I lost everything that mattered to me a long time ago. I lived empty for a while until I met you. I liked you. And I trusted you. You were good to me in your twisted, dark way, but you couldn’t help it, could you? You took everything I’d given you and smashed it. Turned it into nothing. You warned me so many times, and yet I didn’t want to listen to you. I couldn’t believe that you’d do that to me. More so because you knew my pain. You knew how vulnerable I was. It was your pain as well. Strangely, I found comfort in that thought. Somehow, I hoped that all that fucked up past could give us a better future. But I was wrong. So fucking wrong.”
The silver-gray of his eyes glistens with emotion.
A rueful smile tilts his lips. I stop him again as he tries to say something.