by C. C. Piper
A single drop cascaded down her face and I wiped it away with my thumb. I didn’t know what to say to her, so I let my touch do my talking for me. Another tear fell. This time I raised up high enough to kiss it.
It was nothing more than the softest brush of my lips against the delicate skin of her cheek, but it was enough to change everything. The atmosphere of the room changed. Charged.
She twisted to line up her mouth with mine then leaned in all at once, as if she were deprived of oxygen and I was the only tank. Her kiss was searing, so all-consuming that I pulled her out of her chair and up against me as I deepened it.
She opened up for me, rolling out a red-carpet welcome as she threaded her fingers through my hair. I banded my arms around her, loving the feeling of having her body so close. Her breasts were squished against my chest, her hair tickled my neck, and the feel of her in my grasp felt so good I wanted to do a Wayne’s World tribute of “I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy.”
But I didn’t.
Instead, I breathed in her citrusy sweet fragrance and hoped she’d never let me go.
12
Emma
Like the last time this happened, kissing James transformed me into another version of myself. A version lost in lips, tongues, heat, and whirlpools of sensation. This happened on the crazy night we met, but at that time we’d both been somewhere between tipsy and three sheets to the wind.
We were nowhere near three sheets to the wind now.
But I didn’t quite feel like myself either.
There was just something about the way this man used his mouth that sent me spiraling up into the stratosphere. He made me forget about everything else. I forgot what a struggle it was to run my own business. I forgot what had happened with my brother since our parents died. I forgot what I’ve done to James and the fact that he was the last person on Earth to deserve it. I forgot our deal.
The only thing I knew was the rough softness of James’ beard rubbing deliciously along my chin and the intoxicating taste of his beer mixed with the marinara sauce I’d made lingering on his bottom lip. One of his hands that had been curtaining my face and laced its way into my hair as he brought me even closer, plundering my mouth with his tongue.
As if my hands had a mind of their own, they sought out the planes of his wide back and shoulders. His torso was lean but muscular beneath his clothing. As good as he looked with the sleeves of his button-down rolled up, I bet he’d look even better without it entirely. I leaned in and instantly recognized the sizable bulge of his desire poking me in the hip. The juncture between my legs began to ache.
For the first time, I comprehended that I wanted James. I wanted him to strip me naked right there in his opulent dining room, brush our dinner aside, sit me on the table, and take my body to the lands of spine-tingling bliss. I wanted him to relieve me from the hollowness ravaging my heart and to lift the sorrow infiltrating my soul—even though I knew that relief couldn’t be permanent.
It was that craving, that almost painful need, that yanked me back into the present.
I jerked myself free from him, doing my best to regulate my rapid breathing. James stood there, his chest rising and falling as swiftly as mine. His brilliant blue eyes were dark with lust and longing, his hands still outstretched as if to tug me back into his embrace.
I recognized that he was offering, not taking, and that made me move all the faster to get away. I couldn’t let him give me more, to put myself even further into his debt.
Though it felt a little bit mean to deny him, I pivoted on my feet and tore my gaze from his, filling one hand with his empty plate and the other with my nearly full one. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment I knew would be written on his features if I hazarded even the most fleeting of glances of him. So I kept my head down.
“Well, I’m glad you liked my spaghetti,” I said in a rush, hurrying into the kitchen to clean up. “Let me know if you ever want me to make you something else.”
“Emma…” His voice was a plea I couldn’t answer. Though I felt tempted. So fucking tempted.
I dumped the leftovers into a ceramic bowl and placed plastic wrap over the top, then jammed all the dirty pots, pans, plates, and silverware into his immaculate dishwasher. I sensed more than saw that he stayed in the dining room, but the open floor plan meant he was still within eyeshot of me. I wiped down his stove and countertops with lightning-fast speed, then hightailed it toward the stairs.
“Night,” I called to him, my voice high with the effort of not jumping back into his arms. I couldn’t and I wouldn’t.
While I’d never be willing to do certain things—like prostitute myself—I couldn’t deny that I owed him so much more than I could ever repay. The deceit I’d subjected him to was unforgivable. He’d trusted me, he’d even married me for God’s sake, with a smiling face and a willing heart.
James Carter might be a savvy business mogul, but he was also the most unsuspecting man I’d ever met. And I didn’t mean that as a criticism. I meant that as a compliment. As high praise. I’d never known a man like him before and, instead of respecting that decency, his rare and admirable character, I’d used it to rob him.
I paused on the second floor, closing my eyes as I clung to the banister. No matter my reasons for doing it, the ends didn’t justify the means. I should’ve found some other method to help Evan. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of such a good-natured man like James.
And the fact that I hadn’t must mean I was a horrible person; there was no getting around it.
Feeling shittier than ever, I went into my lavish new bedroom and shut the door.
The next weeks flew by. Neither James or I mentioned what had transpired between us the evening of the spaghetti dinner, and I went out of my way to keep all our interactions cordial but as shallow as I could. When that proved difficult—he might be a nice guy, but he was as tenacious as hell, too—I always angled the subject of our conversations back toward him.
“So you went to Harvard, huh? What was that like?” I asked, unable to quell my tone of awe.
Even if I’d been smart enough to get into an Ivy League school like that, I never could have afforded it. I’d made a hearty meal of hamburgers and chips that evening, but he munched away at it, uncomplaining. Cooking for him made me feel like I was contributing. It wasn’t enough to assuage my guilt, but it was something.
“A lot of work,” he admitted, blowing out a breath before smiling. He had such an easy-going manner about him. “I went to one party my freshman year, but when I failed a test the next day, I realized I couldn’t jeopardize my education like that. My parents sacrificed a great deal to send me there and I couldn’t let them down.”
“They sacrificed?” My question slipped out before I could catch it. James was a billionaire, so I just assumed at least a portion of those funds must come from his family.
“Yeah. My parents are both physicians—Mom’s a pediatric surgeon and Dad’s a general practitioner—but they didn’t come from money. When I was born, they were both practicing, but they had to take out these massive student loans to get through school. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that they finally managed to be free and clear of those loans. Then, they made just enough that I didn’t qualify for any financial aid when it was my turn to get an education. They paid as much of it as they could upfront, but it was a challenge for them.”
“I had no idea.”
He shrugged. “My friend Mauricio and I had similar backgrounds. Hard-working folks with high ambitions for themselves and their kids. I worked a couple of part-time jobs through culinary school, and then again throughout my time at Harvard getting my MBA. Fortunately for me, I don’t need much sleep.”
James did seem to have more energy than the average human. I’d often hear him on the top floor, the sounds of his weight machines or treadmill reverberating down to me as I worked or laid in bed. But even with his go-go-go attitude, I knew he must’ve burned the candle at both ends to accompli
sh such a major feat. “Bet you were glad to have school over with.”
“Yes and no. I had a fun time when I was cramming for midterms and finals. And if I hadn’t gone to Harvard, I never would’ve met my buddy, Richard. He and my parents are kind of my inspirations.”
“For success in business?” It sounded like he’d already attained that goal and then some.
“Business and life in general. They’re both happily married, Richard just recently. I want that, too.”
The base of my spine tensed upon hearing that. While we’d discussed our “marriage” and the need for an annulment early on, it wasn’t a topic that I wanted to rehash.
“That’s nice,” I said, kind of inanely. Ugh. “What did you do after Harvard? Is that when you started your restaurant?”
“Yep. But then Sofia came into the picture…” he trailed off, staring off into the distance. He’d never mentioned anyone named Sofia before. “She was my girlfriend. We didn’t work out, though.”
His expression became bleak, and the tenseness I’d felt turned into a stab of something else. Something boiling, like a steamy hot poker had been thrust into my back. It took me a second to realize what the feeling was.
Jealousy.
Well, crap.
“Crap?” James sent me a funny look, scrunching his brows as he tossed the last bite of his burger into his mouth.
Shit! Must’ve said that out loud.
“Sorry, I was just thinking of something going on with my current project.” Which was rude since it sounded as if I was thinking about work rather than paying attention to him.
Still, I didn’t know how else to reply. I didn’t have the right to be jealous of anyone else in James’ life, former girlfriends included. Thus, my next sentence must’ve meant I was utterly Looney Tunes. “Why didn’t it work out?”
James sat back in his chair, coming across as uncharacteristically grave. “With my old flame, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
He paused and I saw a myriad of emotions cross his features. “Sofia was… Well, at the time I thought she was the love of my life.” He blew out a breath, and maybe to demonstrate just how bad a person I am, I found this made me want to know more rather than relent and let him off the hook.
“At first, we were happy,” he explained, quietly. “But then I noticed a few peculiarities with her. We were together during college, so we had this wide group of mutual friends. She’d tell them about some date we’d gone on, but she’d embellish things. Add extra elements to it that didn’t occur.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Like, we went to a bed and breakfast one weekend, and she said another couple was having sex so loud in the adjacent room that she had to file a complaint. But that wasn’t true. I had no idea why she’d tell a whopper like that, but it didn’t seem that significant in the grand scheme of things. The trouble was things kept escalating with her. Anytime she told our friends about our time together, the story would have these add-ons like that. And then, we had an argument.”
He sighed as if the gravity had just doubled in the room. “It was over something minor, like that I wouldn’t go with her on some adventure. I think I had a paper due or something. It shouldn’t have posed such a problem, but she went around crying to our friends and telling them that we’d broken up. I denied it and went to her for an explanation. I even thought maybe she’d misinterpreted my intentions, so I told her I didn’t want to break up. She seemed to calm down and I thought everything was fine.”
“It wasn’t fine, though. Was it?” This was going to be awful, I could tell.
“No. We started to have more spats. Eventually, they grew into full-blown shouting matches, mostly about her lying about me. I didn’t appreciate her going to our friends and painting me as the bad guy when all I was doing was focusing on my classes. Maybe I didn’t make as much time for her as she thought I should, I don’t know. But one day I told her it was over.”
James went to his wet bar and filled a shot glass with Scotch, knocking it back in one go. I knew whatever he was about to say must be a doozy.
“I believed that would be the end of it. It was upsetting, but I knew it was for the best. Then, three of our mutual male friends dropped by where I lived. They looked pissed off, and I let them in, wondering what was wrong. As soon as I shut the door, one of them hauled back and punched me right on the nose.”
I gasped, and James touched the bridge of his nose with a finger. I looked more closely at it and saw a tiny irregular bump there I hadn’t noticed before.
He shook his head. “Broke it outright. It bled like a motherfucker. Hurt like one too. I said something intelligent like ‘What the fuck, dude,’ and he ordered me to keep my hands off Sofia. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about and said so.”
“He told me that she’d let all of them know about the abuse I’d subjected her to. How I’d beaten her black and blue. How I’d threatened her with her life and even strangled her at one point. I was flabbergasted. I’d never once touched Sofia like that. Not ever. I told them so, but they didn’t believe me. I asked if she had any bruises, and they said that I always hit her where it wouldn’t be visible. They ordered me to stay away from her and stormed out.”
“My God, James. Did someone else hurt her and she accused you?”
“See, I wondered that too. I wracked my brain to come up with reasons for her to say such things. Finally, I went to a girl who’d been my friend first and asked her to go check on Sofia. She agreed and reported back to me. But Sofia was fine. The girl even snapped a few shots of Sofia with her phone. There was no damage. No bruises, no cuts or abrasions, no strangulation marks. Yet most of the people we’d hung out with believed her.”
“Why?” I asked, shocked to my core.
“It took me a while to figure it out, but I think it’s because it’s such an extreme idea, you know? I mean, why would anyone lie about a thing like that? Those guys didn’t think to question her about proof of it, and since she said I’d supposedly hit her where it wouldn’t show, it sounded plausible.”
“But her neck would display marks if she was strangled, wouldn’t they? Did she report you to the police or try to get a restraining order?” I said, my head reeling. Those were such severe allegations to make falsely.
“No,” he huffed out a mirthless laugh. “That’s the thing. She had no evidence because I’d never hurt her. But the damage to my reputation wasn’t repairable. Three-quarters of our friends took her side. My last year at Harvard was miserable because I’d become a pariah amongst a lot of the people I shared classes with. Except for a handful of friends who knew better, my social life ground to a halt.”
“But what bothered me the most was how so many considered me to be guilty without hearing my side of the story at all,” he went on. “The tires on my car were even slashed. And not only would those friends who believed her shoot me nasty looks, but so would others who I assume were acquaintances of hers. It was… uncomfortable.”
It didn’t sound uncomfortable to me; it sounded like a goddamn nightmare. I stayed silent, thinking. If a woman were to make unfounded allegations about physical abuse, many people would believe her just based on human history. So many women had suffered horrific abuse in their relationships—and still did—that some people would automatically go with Sofia’s side of the events.
But I knew quite a bit about James now, enough to know that he’d never harm anyone in that way, much less a woman he cared about. He didn’t have a violent bone in his body.
If he did, I could’ve been in danger, but I wasn’t. Hell, he hadn’t even pressed charges against me and he would’ve been perfectly within his rights to do so.
I didn’t want to go there, though. “What did you do?”
“Basically, I kept my head down until I graduated. I kept waiting to get called into an administrator’s office or for security or campus police to throw me in the back of their vehicle or something, but it never happened
.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “I moved here to Vegas after that. I kept my nose to the grindstone and built my business with Mauricio. He was there throughout the whole debacle and never doubted me.”
“That’s just so malicious. Vindictive,” I said, still horrified at the concept of it. “Did this Sofia girl ever fess up to what she did?”
For a moment, his vivid blue eyes blazed into mine. “No. It’s been… shit, like seven years ago now. The sad thing is she did it to another guy a couple of years back.”
“No way…”
“Yeah. The only reason I heard about it was because someone reached out to me on Facebook Messenger. This girl was on Sofia’s side back in the day, but when she heard about this second incident, she got suspicious. This girl and I haven’t renewed our friendship or anything—she’s on the East Coast anyway—but she did apologize. At least that’s something, right?”
“I’m sorry too.” I didn’t just say it to commiserate. What an appalling situation to endure.
“Not your fault,” he said. “It was a long time ago. I just hope Sofia stops. Victims get blamed too often in our society as it is, and her crying wolf certainly isn’t helping those who really have been victimized in that way.”
I agreed. Yet, I couldn’t escape my own negative association with James. As abhorrent as Sofia had been, I was guilty of my own sins toward him.
An alert went off on my phone. I couldn’t decide whether it was divine providence or just ill-timed luck. I’d programmed my cell to remind me to text Evan around his schedule. His shifts at the blackjack table at the casino were never the same hours twice, so I had to plan ahead to be able to contact him.
James waved his hand at me. “You go on and answer that. I’ll clean up our dinner.”
“But it’s my mess—” I objected.
“My house, my prerogative. Go do whatever you need to. You’ve been dealing with most of the meal prep lately anyway. Least I can do is wash a few dishes. Not to mention Nella will take care of anything I might miss tomorrow.”