by Shayne Ford
I scan the document further. He lives in one of the skyscrapers with high-end condos not far from downtown. High worth, tech tycoons set residence in that place. Young, eligible men.
With trembling hands, I plug the memory stick into my laptop. A bunch of photographs pops up, and for a moment I’m unsure if I want to go through with this or not. I take a few deep breaths before I click on the first folder and review the pictures.
Taken with a long lens, the snapshots have captured moments of his life these past ten days. The second his image comes into focus, I find myself gasping.
I slowly trail my fingertips over the photographs as if I want to touch him and feel him. Feel the new him. The man clad in a suit and dress shirts. The man with his hair combed back, his blue-gray eyes holding as much magnetic power as ever.
Some of the close-ups make my heart skip beats. It all comes back to that intense, shackling gaze and his hypnotic eyes, now harboring subdued power. So different than the ‘living on the fringe’ glint he had in his gaze the first time I met him.
This power comes with money.
So, I was right.
It’s right there, in his eyes. I can see it. Feel it. It’s not the same for everybody. In some people it looks like greed, in others it feels like turmoil. Some people fear losing all that power, while others wear it as if it’s natural.
That’s him.
He looks detached and in control.
As I sift through the next pictures, other people show up in the snapshots. And that was the whole point. To find out who he really is. Who he has become.
I wanted raw, unedited information. I wanted facts.
One hard fact is the beautiful brunette who kept him company the first night I met him. It comes as no surprise, but that spurs a turmoil inside me. In all corners of my body, panic grows in spades.
One night he brings her home. A couple of nights later, they have dinner. He drives her home again. She invites him inside. She does not live alone, the report says. In fact, she’s married to an Adam Sanders, a CEO, who happens to run a multi-million dollar corporation and travels quite a bit.
Oh, my God.
The same evening, Adam comes home half an hour later. For two hours, nobody leaves the place. Close to midnight Jade jogs down the stairs, hops in his car and goes home. A different report containing the PI analysis sheds light on the couple’s life.
Happily married, the woman is a trust fund baby, owner of her own business while her husband, Adam, is a self-made millionaire.
A third snapshot captures Jaden and Adam at an exclusive restaurant, downtown. Seated at a table by the window, the men spend time together, drinking, laughing and making conversation before the woman joins them.
The last pictures show Jaden and the woman in front of the restaurant. He’s getting ready to leave. She curls her arms around his neck, looking for his lips. She gives him a soft kiss.
My eyes blur with tears.
Pissed, I blink them back.
There are no more pictures of this woman, but there is a pair of other women visiting his apartment in a couple of instances. One blonde, one brown-haired. Both young and beautiful. Both fashioning high heels and skin-tight dresses.
They come and leave at approximately the same time, spending roughly a couple of hours with him. There are no public pictures with them, simply because they don’t cross paths outside his home, but there is one showing the three of them in the foyer and then outside the building just before the women climb into a limousine.
The PI analysis report indicates that the women are actually a couple and business partners, running a successful lingerie company.
My lips get dry. I gulp water from the bottle, staring vacantly at the lawn for a few good moments.
I slant my eyes back to the report. There are no out of town trips, no other visitors except a maid and a few food deliveries.
He has no debt.
He spent most of his days at his business, and nights at home, except the few instances when he went out with the brunette and her husband or killed a few hours in their home.
His cell phone number is attached to the report along with his home address.
I pick up my phone from the table and call him.
He answers at the second ring. His voice carries a soft rasp that makes me quiver.
“Yes?” he asks.
I stay quiet for a moment, unable to speak.
“Senna?”
I clear my voice.
“How do you know it’s me?”
“How come you have my number?”
I hear the smile in his voice.
“Don’t get cute with me,” I say, beginning to lose the battle.
He stays silent, long enough to let me gather my thoughts and find my voice.
“I hired a private investigator,” I finally say, and pause, waiting for his reaction.
It comes after a few more moments.
“Okay...”
His voice is heavier now than it was moments ago. I can tell it affects him.
“Why did you––?”
“I wanted to now the truth through someone else’s eyes. Someone unbiased,” I say, interrupting him.
“You could’ve asked me. I would’ve given you the truth,” he says.
I sense the sadness in his voice.
And then I feel my tears at the edge of my lashes.
“This is not easy for me, Jaden.”
“I didn’t say it would be.”
“I’m not gonna pretend that I know what I’m doing or that I follow some sort of a plan. I don’t. Right now everything looks messy and conflicted, but this is the best that I can do.”
“Okay,” he says softly.
“I hired him because I wanted to know more before I decide whether I want to talk to you or not.”
Silence comes from the other end.
“I have a few questions...” I say.
“Do you want to meet somewhere?”
I ponder for a moment.
“Yes. Tonight, eight o’clock. The place where you had dinner with Crystal and Adam Sanders last time.”
I pause, expecting a reaction.
“Okay,” he says, his voice unreadable. “Do you want me to pick you up?”
“I’ll meet you there.”
11
SENNA
I spend some time choosing a dress for our meeting.
I don’t want to show up in something frivolous as much as I don’t want to look like I’m decked out for a funeral. Between chiffon dresses, silk frocks and light knit little numbers, I opt for the one shoulder, pencil dress, which closes neatly down my side.
The eggplant color compliments the color of my skin and eyes, the subtle jewelry–– a pair of earrings and a bracelet, adding a bit of spark.
I brush all my hair to the side and let it cascade down my bare shoulder.
A few moments later, I examine my reflection in the mirror. I smile satisfied with the nice touch given by the light makeup.
Close to seven o’clock, I pull the car out of the garage and head downtown.
I’m purposely late.
Half an hour later, I drop my keys in the valet’s hand and enter the restaurant. It’s a spacious place with tall windows, high ceilings, and tucked in booths.
He sits by the window, at a round table set for two. Facing the main door, he catches sight of me as soon as I walk in. He holds my eyes as I strut across the room, his intense gaze making me weak in my knees.
A white shirt outlines the broadness of his shoulders and the hardness of his chest. A silver blue tie and matching cufflinks, give elegance to his outfit.
His hair is all combed back, his eyes narrowing with a smile while delving into mine. I tear my gaze away the moment I reach the table.
He motions to the hostess, rises to his feet, and pulls the chair out for me.
“You okay?” he asks concern threading through his voice.
“Yes,” I say, trying to sound c
asual and relaxed.
Swiveling my head, I take in the beautiful decor.
“You like it?” he murmurs.
“Yes.”
“But that’s not why you picked this place,” he says as he sinks into his seat.
We break eye contact for a moment as the sommelier pours wine into our glasses. The man walks away, and I raise my eyes to meet Jaden’s.
There’s no smile on his face.
“No. That’s not why I chose the place. You said you wanted to talk, and I said I have some questions.”
He nods softly in agreement.
My eyes dip to his lips for a moment as he takes a small sip of wine.
“Let’s start with this,” I say. “We tell each other the truth. No matter how painful, or hurting it is. Would that be okay with you?”
He searches my eyes for a moment, briefly dropping his gaze to my lips, and then my hands before he gives me a slow nod.
“Okay. There’s only one thing. I don’t want the truth to pull us apart. That’s not why we’re here,” he says.
A bitter smile comes to my lips.
“Isn’t it a little too late for that?”
He tilts his chin down and purses his lips, his eyes still rooted to mine.
“Fine,” I say, flicking my hand.
“I’d rather have this conversation somewhere else,” he says calmly, studying me at the same time.
“I’m not gonna throw a fit in the middle of the restaurant.”
He lowers his eyes, suppressing a smile.
“That’s not what I had in mind.”
“This place is as good as any then.”
“Okay,” he finally concedes and brings his glass to his mouth again.
For a moment, I take in the angle of his hands, the line of his jaw, and the contour of his lips. He takes another swig of wine, and I stare blankly at his mouth while tasting my drink as well.
“Are you ready to order?” he asks.
“Yeah, sure.”
The next few minutes we place the order. As the waiter pulls away from our table, I pop the first question.
“So who is Crystal Sanders?”
A thought glints fleetingly through his eyes before he moves his gaze away.
“You’ve done your research,” he finally says, raising his eyes to me again, mixed feelings flashing through them.
He hurts. I can tell. What I can’t tell is whether it’s the memory of that woman that affects him, me asking the question, or this whole setting and conversation.
“Yes I have, but I don’t have eyes in your bedroom. So who is she?”
He slides his elbows onto the table, and for a moment he trains his eyes on his hands. Sorrow courses through his eyes.
“She was a client.”
My heart sinks.
“What kind of client?”
He glances out of the window.
“The old kind.”
I lean back in the chair.
“She’s married.”
“Yeah, she is.”
He shifts his focus back inside and stares vacantly at me.
“He hired me.”
“You spent evenings at their home. He was there.”
“Yeah... We both fucked her,” he says casually, his eyes evading mine.
His posture relaxes as if a weight has lifted off his chest.
“When he was home, we’d fuck at their place, and he’d be part of it. When he wasn’t home I’d fuck her at my place, or in the car... or whatever place would catch her imagination or mine.”
“And he knew?”
“Every fucking thing. That was the whole deal. He wanted her sated and also wanted to have a sense of control over her. He liked me, and I liked him.
“Have you two...?”
“Touch each other?” he offers, the ghost of a smile brushing his lips. “No. But he liked to share her. He got extremely turned on when we double teamed her. And she was fucking hot.”
I clench my teeth, my nails digging into the tablecloth.
“You wanted the truth, Senna,” he says, flashing a cold smile.
“I’m good,” I say, pretending I don’t care.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Them? A couple of months.”
“Like a menage?”
“Hardly. We’re all busy people, but you probably know that.”
“You were with her at that event.”
“She was there because of her business. He couldn’t make it on time, and I kept her company.”
“How could you do that?” I ask, washed with disbelief.
“Keeping her company?” he asks, the dark humor hurting him as much as it hurts me.
“Fucking her for money.”
“It wasn’t the money. I don’t need to do anything for money.”
“Was it fun?”
He slowly shakes his head, his eyes getting hazy while staring blankly at the table.
“It was at the moment, but it never lasted.”
“Why would you do it?”
A sad chuckle almost doesn’t make it to his lips.
I study his handsome face drenched in sadness.
“It was the same old reason?”
The corner of his lips lifts with a bitter smile, his eyes avoiding mine.
“It was.”
“Why?”
“I wasn’t looking for it... And I never thought I’d do it again,” he says, and stops, and my heart starts crying for him. “In a way, it’s like the bad food you’ve got so used to, you’re no longer looking for something else, so I went back to it.”
“I meant nothing to you, didn’t I?” I ask my voice so quiet I wonder if he heard me.
From where I sit, I can see the soft tears lining his lashes.
He keeps his chin down and makes an effort to keep his expression from changing but even so, I can see his pain laying its fingers on his face.
“You meant everything to me,” he says, and my heart starts breaking.
“How can you say that?” I mutter, in utter disbelief.
He lifts his gaze. I slacken in my seat.
The soft light of a smile brushes his lips as he takes in my expression. Surprise, regret and so much ache he must see on my face. I feel bad for him, and me. For us.
“It’s not fair...” I murmur, drowning in his eyes.
“It’s the truth,” he says, and then I see it in his gaze.
The love he never wanted to confess. The love he hid from me. The love he couldn’t let me have.
“Why, Jaden? Why would you do that?”
A rueful smile sparks in his eyes.
He briefly looks away.
“Why?” I ask again, sliding my hand on top of his.
He feels warm beneath my touch.
His eyes shift back to me.
“You know why. I think you knew it even back then.”
Disappointed, I pull my hand away.
He gently stops me and grips my hand, my fingers getting lost in the cushion of his palm.
“Had I not left we would’ve destroyed each other.”
My mouth falls open in surprise.
He slowly nods, his eyes flashing sadness and compassion.
“We would’ve slipped into a different madness and ended up hating each other. That’s one of the reasons why I left.”
My skin gets cold against his touch.
“How is this much better than that?”
He ponders for a moment.
“This is our chance. Had I stayed, we wouldn’t have even that.”
I look at him in silence, no longer caring that tears flood my eyes and some of them drop on the tablecloth.
“You didn’t even ask me,” I say.
“You would’ve said no.”
I flick my eyes at him, my jaw too tense to speak.
He tips his chin down, and for a brief moment, his gaze roams over our hands.
“None of us could control the way we felt back then. We were b
oth still bleeding. Both tormented by the past and loneliness, by the possibility that we had found our match. I knew how you felt. I knew how much you needed me, but I wasn’t stable enough to give you what you wanted.”
He gently strokes my hand as he smiles at a private thought.
“When you started to tell me about your life and the way you were before you met me, you shone a light on that part of me as well. One I never thought I had. Not for a woman anyway. I kept that side only for me and the few things dear to me. Emma, and Sara. My drawings. Sometimes the words I cared to write down. I never imagined I could find a woman I can give that tenderness to. And I never thought I’d found that kind of place in someone else’s heart. But you, like me, were not safe...” he says, and smiles again. “You could sink into darkness at the drop of a hat, and you could pull me down just as fast. I was no different than you.”
He pauses for a moment.
“The few days we spent in that cabin, allowed me to see more of us. The way we could’ve been had we not been damaged. The way we could’ve lived had we not battled monsters, bad memories, and the wrath of our ugly past.”
His lips curve into a soft grin.
“But seeing that sobered me up. It made me aware of the hurdles lying ahead of us. It made me realize that no matter what my heart was whispering to me the reality was different. What seemed within our reach couldn’t be farther away from us.”
“You could’ve talked to me.”
He searches my eyes for a few moments.
“Words couldn’t do what time needed to do.”
We both lift our gazes as the servers bring the plates of food. We’re waiting in silence as they set them on the table.
Jaden and one of the men exchange a few words that I can only remotely register, my mind still processing what he just told me.
He shifts his focus back, but neither of us begin to eat.
He pushes the plate farther away from him, his lack of appetite mirroring my feelings.
I don’t feel like eating either.
“That very last night...” he says softly, resuming his story, “was like a crossroad to me. I didn’t see it coming. It wasn’t planned. No one can plan something like that. Things were not as clear to me back then as they are right now. I knew it would hurt both of us, but I had to do it. When I realized that we were both captives of our past, that time was not on our side, that I was nowhere near being the man who could’ve pulled you up, and you were nowhere near to being the woman who could’ve heal my heart, I saw only one way out. Pull everything to a stop, and smash everything to pieces and perhaps rebuild at a later date. Let the time do its job. Let our hearts find their way. And let myself be the man I wanted for you.”