BIRTHDAY
JAMES - BETWEEN BOOKS 1&2
I checked my phone again, feeling pathetic. It was my birthday today, and all I was hoping for was a text, and even that wasn't likely. My mouth twisted bitterly when I saw that she hadn't responded to my latest inquiry about her welfare. She usually didn't.
I checked my computer. I had an entire network keeping tabs on her—sending me every photo and scrap of information that they found. I was basically torturing myself, because most of it was taking the form of petty tabloid gossip. Still, I looked.
The first picture I saw made my jaw clench. I gritted my teeth hard enough that the sound of it filled my office. I had the childish urge to throw my computer across the room in a fit, but I tamped it down. It wouldn't make me feel better to break something. Nothing would make me feel better, aside from hearing from her.
In the picture, Bianca was lying on a pool lounger, wearing a see-through black cover-up with a little bikini under it. Her face was peaceful. She could have been sleeping, in fact. It was his face that bothered me. Damien was sitting on a lounger beside her, and he was staring at her breasts. Even in a picture, I could read his filthy thoughts.
Mine, I thought savagely.
I clicked to the next picture rather violently. It was no better. Worse, in fact.
I studied the picture for a long time. I rubbed at my chest. It hurt. The picture troubled me on a number of levels. She was with Damien again in the picture. They were walking on the beach. Even the lighting was romantic.
They walked side by side, barefoot in the sand. They looked like a fucking Hallmark card, and he was touching her.
Mine, I thought again.
Her expression was hard to read. She was wearing dark shades, but I could tell that she was blushing. I didn't know what to think of the look on her face. Again, it was his face that made me want to break things. Namely, his face.
I was well aware that the man was infatuated with her. I'd known it from the first time I'd met him. It actually pissed me off even more that he'd been nothing but polite to me, as though I was her passing fancy, and he was content to wait me out.
And that was my fear.
When I looked at her, some part of me thought I'd walked into the most beautiful love story. Looking into her eyes, I imagined that there was someone for everyone, and that I had finally found my someone. It made me feel optimistic—and I began to dream that even the severely damaged could have happy endings.
But when I looked at him, or them together, I felt my gut churn and doubt fill me. Perhaps this was their love story, and I was just the passing fancy. I could see Bianca thinking of our tempestuous affair as a brief passionate interlude before she set her feet firmly back on the ground again and found a normal guy. Would that be her happy ending? Is that what would be best for her, in the end? I didn't know the answer. All I knew was that I wasn't unselfish enough to let it happen without a fight.
I spent too long looking at that damned picture—that hand touching her. Abruptly, I picked the computer up and threw it as hard as I could across the room. It hit the wall with a satisfying crash.
I'd been wrong. I did feel a little better after breaking something.
Clark burst in the door, looking a little ruffled, though he quickly shook it off when he saw the mess that used to be my computer. He looked between me and the iMac, raising his brows. "Time for another workout?" he asked mildly. He was always happy to hit the gym.
I nodded.
"I'll have that taken care of," he added, nodding towards the mess that used to be my computer.
I just nodded again.
We were nearly to the elevator when my phone beeped at me. I checked it way too eagerly.
Bianca: I'm doing fine. Please stop worrying about me.
It had taken her over six hours to text me back, but I was messaging within five seconds of reading hers.
James: Thank you. I miss you desperately, Love.
As sad as it was, it made my day when she responded right away.
Bianca: I miss u 2.
I was smiling as we boarded the elevator.