CHAPTER SEVEN
IT HAD BEEN nearly a month of nothing but boredom, pain, and vividly strange dreams. I spent the first two weeks moping around my home.
During that time, I found out my bank account and my trust account were untouched. I thought maybe Executive Suites gave me a refund and ended me as a client. Maybe I was on a trial basis. Like anything else, you’re only charged if the trial is a success.
On the fifteenth day of Calind’s deadline, no one saw me. I was jonesing for a fix. I had night sweats, crazy headaches, and even crazier dreams featuring desert lands during brutal, ancient wars. My body ached, and every day exacerbated the pain. My meds didn’t work. Nothing worked.
When the thirtieth day came, the seizures were unending; my brain became my worst enemy. When I had control again, I couldn’t stop vomiting. It was an endless cycle. The shakes, the fever. I thought I was dying, that this was the end.
I lost track of time, forgetting what I’d done the day or the week before, or unable to remember how I wound up in parts of my house. At one point, I thought there was a brigade of a hundred men inside my bedroom.
I convinced myself I had days left on my timeline instead of months.
The phone calls and the knocks at my door were relentless. Sounds amplified my migraines. Usually, I would’ve ignored it. Today was different.
I propped my elbows up on the lid of the toilet seat and clutched my forehead, hoping if I pressed hard enough, it would stop the pain. My fingertips were too numb to do much of anything.
After a few moments, I peeled myself off the bathroom floor and struggled with my weak limbs to travel to the entryway. I fell a few times and was so sick with vertigo I didn’t think I’d make it. Gathering my strength, I lurched forward and leaned against the door, struggling to stand. “Who is it?”
“It’s Emile. Can I see you?”
I slipped the hood of my sweatshirt over my matted hair. “No. You can’t. Go away, Emile. Go…away.”
“If you don’t let me inside, I’ll kick in the door.”
I looked through the peephole to find out if he was serious—he was. I cracked the door open and turned my back to him. I crawled to the couch, pulling a blanket over my feverish body. My hood fell over my face, casting a shadow over it and prevented him from seeing the way my sickness took over my face.
Emile touched my face with tenderness. “Why didn’t you tell me about your father a month ago? What can I do for you?”
Unable to speak, I shook my head and tried to look beyond him. No matter how much I hated having to compete for my father’s attention and love, I’d never permitted myself to feel grief when he died. Calls from my stepsister and stepmother went unanswered. I convinced myself that if I didn’t attend his funeral or deal with the poor excuse for what I had left to call a family, I’d never have to face the fact that he had died.
Emile sat next to me. “What’s going on? Why are you avoiding me? I could’ve been here for you.”
“I want to be alone,” I replied. “I’m not paying for this time, so go.”
He sat on the coffee table and pulled my legs around until I faced him. “I’m off the clock right now. I’m always off the clock with you. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you think you were ever a client.”
“You have to be pretending to care. There’s no reason I’ve ever given you to care about me. No one ever does.”
He reached for my hands, cupping them. “I do care, and I’m worried about what’s going on. Not only with your father’s death, but with your health.”
“Why?”
“Regan?” he pressed with impatience. “You did this last time. I’ve spent the last month out of my mind with worry over you.”
“Really?” I perked up, lifting my eyes to him. Remembering I looked like shit, I averted my eyes. “I’m dying,” I confessed. “As in, I was given a death sentence at the appointment you kept asking me about. Now, it feels like my expiration date is approaching faster than I was told it would be.”
“Why did you wait to tell me?”
“If you’d found out sooner, would you have taken me up on my offer to buy you?”
He released a long, exhaustive sigh and palmed his face. “Why are you making light of this? This is so far from the fucking realm of funny.”
“What do you want me to do? Cry? What’s the fucking point? Nothing will change.”
He reached across, bringing my hand to his lips for a soft kiss. The sensation of his lips on my fingers failed register. “What can I do?”
“It’ll pass. Just a bad day.”
“I will be here until it does.”
“Emile—”
“Don’t argue with me. Bath, bed, and then…” He looked at the liquid nutrition cans on the coffee table. The ones I struggled to finish and keep inside my stomach. “A meal better than the toxic shit you’ve been putting in your body.”
“Why are you doing this? You don’t have to.”
“Do you have someone else who will?”
Solemn, I shook my head.
“I guess that’s good on my end because I want to be the one to do this for you.” He scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the bathroom.
I twisted my cheek against Emile’s chest as we both laid in bed. For the past few hours, I watched him text someone. I wished I could’ve read the texts. The pace of his heartbeat picked up when he read them.
“Someone’s feeling better,” he said, sliding his phone over to the bedside table.
I curled up between his legs and glanced at Emile’s phone lighting up with alerts and illuminating my dark bedroom. “Don’t you know the code? You’re not supposed to let me screw up your money. I feel better. You can go.”
“Stop brushing me off.”
“You need to stop seeing me. It’s crucial this stays on the level it was. I think if you stay and we keep doing this, it won’t.”
“You’re not helping it stay that way, Regan.”
“What am I doing?” I threw up my hands in defeat and questioned him with my stare.
His features firmed for a while. “There’s nothing stopping us from remaining friends.”
“Friends?” I almost choked.
He swallowed hard. “If I couldn’t handle seeing you like this, I wouldn’t be here.”
“I feel well enough for you to go. I want to get some rest.”
He grabbed me by the waist and tossed me back, straddling my lower body.
I lifted my head to kiss him. A pain so sharp, it made me whimper, rang throughout my head.
“Better, huh?”
I scrunched up my face, rubbing my temples. “I don’t know what the fuck happened.”
When I felt level headed again, I opened my eyes. “Why do you look so good right now?”
His bright smile enticed me more. “You mean I don’t look that way on a normal basis?” He groaned and rolled his eyes. “I can’t, Regan. If we—think it would send you over the edge. When you’re better…” His eyes landed on me and were full of innuendo. “I’ll eat your pussy for hours.”
I bit into the corner of my grin. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“I’ll check up on you tomorrow.” He gave me a sweet and brief goodbye kiss.
Ten minutes after Emile left, I called Calind.
“Calind. I think I’m ready. No, I know I’m ready.” I calmed myself, taking deep inhalations. “Goddamn it, I’m fucking ready.”
“A car will be there in one hour. Be on time.”
A BLACK SPORTS coupe had parked curbside within fifty-five minutes. I had been waiting on the curb for at least half an hour. I’d never gotten myself together so fast. It was like I was running a race to get away from my life, and I only cared about my present appearance.
It was a long drive to the outskirts north of the city of Las Vegas. The house I arrived at had an open floor plan with vaulted ceilings. Heavy light-blocking drapes covered the paned windows. The walls were a cool-toned gray and black. Patterned wallpaper adorned accent walls. Any semblance of technology was missing, not even so much as a microwave.
I wandered to the painting affixed to the south wall. In the painting, the Seven World Wonders were sketched onto micro-thin sheets of parchment paper and placed on top of one another. The wonder at the top was the only one Aroux painted.
“It’s Never Seven Places by—”
“Fouté Aroux,” I finished, reeling from Calind’s words as they vibrated through me, announcing his presence. “I went to two of his shows in Paris. I traveled to a lot of the cities where these wonders are. I couldn’t see any of them. I thought by making time to see his show, it would be the same as actually seeing them. It wasn’t. As an adult, I had screwed-up priorities. When I was young, my father was so protective of me, he did this…” I lifted my hair and flashed the tracking device embedded underneath the skin on the back of my neck.
Calind’s eyes lifted at me in astonishment.
“Yep, experimental tech that never took off in the mass market. Hmm…I wonder why? You microchip your dog, not your kid. That was my father for you. Maybe he thought someone would kidnap me for a ransom. It’s the only reason that made him seem human.”
I strode into the living room with my attention trained to the vaulted ceiling. “You’re more than a part-time glorified escort. The way people respond to you? The way I feel around you? It’s unreal. How do you do it? What or who are you to have so much power over people?”
With his body pressed against my back, he gripped my hips, turning me back to the painting. “Tell me, Regan.” He whispered words that tickled the delicate skin on my neck, setting it on fire. “When you look at the painting, do you wonder about Aroux’s background? What his personal life was like?”
“No.”
“And do you know why? Coming between the art and the artist eliminates the mystery and diminishes your connection to the art and the fantasy. You needn’t know anything about me.” Calind took his heat away from me and sat in the middle of his black leather couch in the living room.
“Okay, no getting to know you. Understood. When are we going to get started?” I walked around the coffee table and plopped myself on the couch to sit as close to Calind as possible.
His open palm clasped the side of my face as his thumb rubbed my lips. “Give me one thing, then we’ll begin.” He closed his eyes, and when he looked at me again, a sudden ache erupted inside of my pussy
I pulled my legs together. It didn’t help. “W-what one thing?”
“You. I want all of you.” The intensity in his eyes increased tenfold, trapping me inside his gaze. It was as though my clit was being manipulated by deft fingers.
What…in…the…world? I gasped, on the verge of coming. He bit his lip, closing his eyes for a moment. When he did, the feeling between my legs immediately stopped.
Left between panting for more and freaked out, I couldn’t form a coherent thought. “The marriage thing? You mea—”
“Yes,” he whispered. “If it’s what you want.”
Was he fucking kidding? I was getting the experience I wanted, and it was starting with my most lofty request. This bodes very well.
“It really is,” I beamed.
OUR FIRST VISIT was to the county clerk to apply for a marriage license. Although it was way past the close of business hours, the clerk met us to approve the paperwork and expedite the process.
After, we traveled to another hotel where I received access to the penthouse suite. When I reached my new room, I met with a hair stylist, makeup artist, a jeweler, and a sales clerk from a dress shop with a fine selection of wedding dresses.
The day of people moving mountains for Calind didn’t stop. At four o’clock in the morning, the chapel in my hotel was still open. It wasn’t a cheesy one with an Elvis-impersonator, either. It was an elegant, white-on-white chapel with cloth-covered chairs, marble floors, and a silk runway. Fresh cut white roses lined the walkway and the altar. Candles were lit and placed along the runner, providing the only source of light and making it feel romantic.
I think Calind said it best when he saw my apprehension. “I want to give you everything you fantasized about,” he said. “The life you lead when death is at a short bend around the corner is not for the cautious.”
He was right. It didn’t matter that we were at the altar, or that I was wearing a beautiful, cream wedding dress. It didn’t matter that he looked insane in a tuxedo. It didn’t matter that the vows we exchanged were said with a passion that rivaled two people madly in love with each other. What mattered was that he was giving me a taste of what I thought I would never have been able to experience before I died.
CHAMPAGNE COOLED IN a bucket. White rose petals decorated the floor and the top of the bed in our master suite.
Looking at the bed, I was undeniably nervous. A crowbar couldn’t have pried the bouquet of gardenias from my grip. My trembling hands continuously caught the light, reflecting sparkles from my gorgeous eight-carat cathedral diamond ring.
Calind came behind me, slipping his hand across my torso, and moved my hair from my shoulder. “Relax,” he breathed against my neck. “We’re not fucking tonight.” He spun me around to face him and gripped my chin. “Moving forward, I will expect things in return.”
“I’m game.”
He pried the bouquet from my death grip. “Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“I can’t promise it’ll be easy the first time. You’ll beg for a reprieve, and you won’t receive it.”
“You’re talking about the pain?”
“Regan,” he whispered with a mischievous look in his eye, “I’m referring to both the pain and the pleasure.”
My knees knocked, and I felt faint.
He took my hand with fragility and kissed the top of it. “There are things I need from you. Things I must have. Make a promise and keep it, no matter what happens.”
I chewed on my lip for a few moments. “What do you want from me?”
“You will see things, hear things. I need you to promise that no matter what you’ll never run, you’ll never fear me, and you’ll never question my loyalty. Nothing I do to you would cause permanent pain. Trust me above anyone else.”
“Okay.” I swallowed hard. “I promise.” I put on my business face. “With my promise, you have to swear to adhere to one rule.”
A brow angled over his inquisitive, pretty brown eyes.
“No one else gets your pain or pleasure. And because I’m fair, the threesome I want won’t happen without you, and no other man gets a piece of this unless we agree to it first. Got it?”
“Without question.” Releasing me, he headed to the safe and pulled out the familiar case with what I knew to have eleven vials. “As I previously stated, you will have to take the injections every month. Do you have any objections?”
As he readied the needle and approached me, I stalled. I was already uneasy over the things I felt and saw, but he downright scared me. I didn’t know if it was a part of the act, or if he was being real.
Although I had trepidations, my head shook from left to right and I extended my arm to him before I could stop it.
I was being rash and bold. I was being the woman I always wanted to be—reckless and adventurous.
I looked at Calind, my husband, who was too gorgeous for words.
Oh yeah, I was going to enjoy this.