CHAPTER SIXTEEN
With great force of will, I manage not to relive the kiss for the rest of the morning as I open boxes and analyze book data.
My body remembers, though. My nipples tingle, and my pussy is slick, my labia rubbing together with every step. When I’m seated at the desk, I squeeze my thighs together to try and ease the lingering ache in my clit, suppressing the temptation to slide my skirt up and reach between my legs. It would take no effort at all—just a little tickle on the outside of my panties, and I’d come.
It wouldn’t be against the rules, exactly. It’s not like he put a “no masturbation while at work” clause in the stupid contract.
I give a little snort of laughter and type in a book’s publication date. I mutter a curse and correct it. Despite my efforts, I’m making stupid mistakes today, typos and transposing letters and numbers.
Because Flynn Alverton kissed me. No, he claimed me in a deep possessive kiss that shook the ground beneath my feet. Why couldn’t I have reacted that way to Jeremy’s kiss? Why am I completely uninspired to fantasize about him, while images of Flynn fucking me appear in my mind with unbidden spontaneity?
I push away from the desk and try to work off my physical frustration by opening boxes and shelving books. After my rocky start in Castille, I’ve been happy with the way things are going—the job, learning my newfound fix-it skills, rediscovering myself, experiencing a pleasant date, bonding with a dog named Ghost.
Now hot-but-strange Flynn has thrown a wrench into my growing self-assurance. And instead of nursing my righteous anger over his dictate about Jeremy, I’m obsessing about my reaction to his kiss.
Stop it.
Over on the desk, my phone buzzes with a call. I swipe the screen to reveal an unfamiliar number bearing a Los Angeles area code. Though I’ve lost touch with almost everyone I used to know in LA, maybe a former friend is now calling to reconnect.
I answer the call. “Hello?”
“Eve.”
Ice floods my veins. I can’t speak. His voice is a nightmare of old memories—clipped and harsh, husky with lust, infused with a tenderness that turned out to be a lie. Everything was a lie.
“What…” I pull a breath into my tight lungs. “What do you want?”
“You did a good thing by moving as far away as you could get,” David says. “But if you think you can still do some damage, you’re wrong.”
“What are you talking about?” I fumble to sit in my desk chair, my legs weakening.
“You keeping your mouth shut,” he snaps.
Fear, jagged and sharp, sinks into my skin. I know all too well how powerful this man is. He defeated me, stripped away all my defenses. I’d tried telling people the truth, but no one had believed me over him.
Why would I do anything now except keep my mouth shut?
“I’m…” My breath hitches, panic rising. “I haven’t said anything to anyone.”
“You’d better not,” he says. “No one believed you then. They sure as hell won’t now. But if you come forward again and tell people I slandered you and lied, I will destroy you worse than I already have. Got it?”
I can’t push any words past my constricted throat. How did he get my number?
“You were nothing more than a passable fuck,” he continues. “Unless you want more pictures of your tits and cunt made public, you stay in your little mousehole and keep quiet. If I hear anything out of you, you’re done.”
The call ends. I drop the phone. Every part of me is shaking.
He’s supposed to be out of my life for good. I paid a catastrophic price for getting involved with him. Why would he suddenly think I’m going to say anything now, of all times? Especially right when I’m finally seeing some light again?
“What’s wrong?”
I jerk my head up in surprise at the sound of Flynn’s voice—deep and edged with contained wariness, a polar opposite to David’s caustic tone. He’s standing in front of the desk, his eyebrows pulled together and his dark gaze on me.
I get quickly to my feet, trying to suppress my shivering. “I… nothing. I was just about to get back to work.”
I hurry around the desk and busy myself opening another box.
“Eve.”
Oh, how he says my name, like he’s wrapping his voice around it, like he’s wrapping his arms around me. I fight back tears and pull two fairy tale criticism books from the box.
“Just an unexpected call. Everything’s fine.”
He steps closer. His delicious scent, the presence of his strong body, make me want to crack wide open and confess everything. To give him my secrets so I won’t have to bear their weight alone.
But I can’t.
Pain stabs my heart. Not until now—right after our kiss—do I realize how horrified I am by the thought of Flynn knowing all the sordid details about me and David. What if he goes on to the internet and reads the news reports? He’ll look at me differently then. Everyone does. I couldn’t bear it if his hot glances change to disgust.
I hold up my hand. A tremor ripples through me. “You said I couldn’t ask you any questions. Fine. You can’t ask me any either.”
He tightens his mouth, flexing his hands at his sides. “Something upset you. I want to know what it is.”
I steel my spine, hating the thought of David encroaching on my work here, polluting the strange and fragile friendship I’m developing with Flynn.
“Well, you can’t, all right?” I force an abrupt note into my voice. “It’s my business, like whatever you do in the tower is your business. Now is there something else you wanted or can I get back to work?”
“Tell me, dammit.”
“No.” I whirl around to face him, sick to death of being told what to do. I’m tired of having every single element of my life wrenched out of my control. I’m tired of being threatened, of being afraid and alone. “You’re not allowed to regret our kiss and then try and be there for me. You don’t get involved, remember? Ever.”
“I will get fucking involved if someone is scaring you.” He stalks to the windows, his body leashed with tension. “What happened?”
“Go away, Flynn.” I stride back to the desk. “There’s nothing you can do anyway.”
Nothing anyone can do.
Silence fills the space behind me, broken only by what sounds like his teeth grinding together.
“I don’t…” He pauses and pulls in a breath. “I don’t regret our kiss. I regret not being able to stay away from you.”
My heart thumps. Much as I’ve secretly longed for him, the menacing call has slammed me with the knowledge that my past will never die. What if it somehow ends up hurting Flynn?
“Go away,” I repeat dully.
“I’m not dropping this, Eve,” he says through a clenched jaw. “No fucking way.”
The door slams shut.
I press my hands to my eyes. Shame floods me alongside the fear I thought I’d finally conquered. A thirty-second call from David has revived it all—the sinking dread, the black fog suffocating my lungs, the icy cold terror of what else he could do.
Does he really have more explicit pictures of me?
Does he know where I am?
Though I’d had my phone number changed, it’s easy enough to find that kind of information these days. It also wouldn’t be a challenge for anyone to find out I’ve moved to Castille, but I’ve been counting on the fact that no one, least of all David, cares where I am now.
My only small consolation is that I’m no threat to him. I fully intend to stay in my “mousehole” and keep quiet. Yes, I want to jumpstart my career again, but David and his colleagues could give a shit about art history. Our paths will never cross again.
So what was that call about? It must have something to do with the two students now accusing him of sexual harassment, but I don’t know any details of that situation. I don’t want to know.
Or maybe someone said something to him about me. Maybe his wife received a call or a message. During the public blowout, she’d apparently been subjected to pranks by people pretending to be me.
I pick up my phone and call Graham. “Have you heard anything else about what’s going on with David?”
“Only what I sent you.” Concern laces his voice. “Why?”
“He called me.”
“Oh, Eve.” He sighs heavily. “I’m sorry. What did he say?”
“He told me to keep quiet, though it’s not like I haven’t told people everything already. I wanted to tell you since you’re the only person who knows where I am.”
“I haven’t told anyone.”
“I didn’t think you had,” I assure him quickly. “I just don’t want you to take any more heat because of me.”
“I’ll let you know if I hear anything else, but try not to worry.”
“I’ll be fine. Give my love to Mary.”
I end the call and sit back at the desk. Trying to put David’s call behind me, I input book data into the computer database.
Threats aside, David has zero evidence I’ve tried to contact him or do anything else in the past year. All I’ve done is run away and hide.
Though I’m at work, I spend a bit of time trying to regain my balance by editing my Maria Wood Red Riding Hood paper. Even objectively, I know it’s an excellent, sharp critical analysis, including both scholarly perceptiveness and a personal tone of both anger and empathy.
After all, no one knows better than me what it feels like to be the girl confronting a terrifying wolf.