CHAPTER EIGHT
AFTER I FINISHED packing, I meandered around my house. There were many things to miss: the killer marble floor. The veranda with the outdoor grill and the fireplace that hosted many of my networking events disguised as parties. My bedroom—I’d miss the dirty things that happened inside and outside of my bed, too.
After I died, my house would go on the market.
After I died.
It didn’t seem real.
It was hard to wrap my head around the fact that a man I barely knew would be the beneficiary of my life insurance policy, by default. It wasn’t as though Calind needed the money. He mentioned taking his private jet when we traveled. My father hadn’t had one, and it wasn’t an issue of affordability; he thought it was a waste of money.
While getting my affairs in order, I noticed that none of my money had been removed from any of my accounts. It might’ve been possible that Executive Suites held off on taking the money until after I died, but I wasn’t convinced.
I had a few hours left until the driver arrived at the expected time to take me to the airport. While on the veranda, having one last cigarette at my house, I received a text from Emile:
5 minutes from your place. You there?
I scrolled back and forth, scanning through our earlier texts to one another. They pertained to the dirty things we wanted to do to each other. It served a purpose before, now it felt pointless.
It took several minutes before I sent him a text in response:
Yes.
Seven minutes after his last text, Emile knocked on my door. He stood in my doorframe, wearing a dark suit, hugging his cut body. His ultra-dark shades hid his eyes.
He stepped inside and planted my body against the door, kissing me with so much fervor it screwed with my head. Emile was a reminder of the reality I wanted to forget, and I remembered what I was trying to suppress. It was a truth I’d barely kept hidden when I was with Calind. My pending death and my father’s death both became real again.
He kissed my forehead and held my head. “Are you all right?”
I shrugged and removed his sunglasses.
Emile searched the room with an awed expression. He stared at my luggage for the longest time. I don’t think he blinked more than once or twice.
“Where?” he asked in a hoarse tone. “For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
His eyes pierced straight through me, making an arctic chill brush over my bare shoulders. “You’re going with someone?”
“I am.” I fidgeted like a teenage girl during her first time in the principal’s office.
“Who…is he?” Sharpened with a cutting edge, his question sliced right through me.
“You don’t know him.”
“Say his name anyway.”
“Calind Glace.”
Emile took a few steps away from me, contemplating the floor.
“My ride will be here soon. You should go.”
He rushed forward to hold me and slipped my left hand up into the air. “You. Are. Fucking. Kidding. Me.”
I yanked my hand away and crossed my arms, attempting to hide my gargantuan ring. “Executive Suites agreed to fulfill my fantasy, since you wouldn’t.”
“That’s kind of sudden, don’t you think?”
I shrugged again. “Time isn’t my friend right now.”
His intense eyes shot up to meet mine. “It’s not too late to back out.”
“Can’t talk about it anymore.”
“I know about Executive Suites. A former friend works for the company we can’t talk about.”
I asked with a lifted brow, “Why did you end the friendship with him or her?”
He pursed his lips together as though he wanted to say something and forced himself to stay quiet.
“Okay, I get it. You think I’ll get hurt. News-fucking-flash, I’ll die no matter what.”
“There are worse things.”
“Than death? Says the person who isn’t dying. Anyway, I’m not paying you for this time. I’m not paying for you at all anymore. Go.”
“Why do you do that?” he asked, annoyed. “You’ve never paid me. Does it make you feel better about having feelings for me?”
“It might not have been money, doesn’t mean it wasn’t paid for with something.” Feeling weak, I settled on the couch.
“Regan? No. I’ll remind you of what you never paid for. Hope it keeps you from making a huge mistake on top of the one you’ve already made. Remember the night you found out your father was sick?”
Visions of the memory he induced hit me hard. It was the crazy night I decided to keep him around. It was the night the line moved.
He kneeled in front of me, intertwining his fingers with mine. “Do you remember?”
“Of course I do,” I asserted.
“Is it enough?”
I shook my head.
“You don’t know what you signed up for. What you’re giving up. The life Executive Suites will give you?” He shook his head. “Stay. No other clients. Nothing else but you and me. I’ll be with you until the end. The ring? None of it matters, okay?” He cupped my face.
“Why didn’t you offer me this before?” Sadness transformed into anger.
“Is that the problem? You thought I was emotionally unavailable? Regan, I—”
“You’re too fucking late,” I snapped, jolting upright. “You’re too late,” I said again in a quieter tone after seeing his crestfallen expression. I touched his face and gave him a gentle kiss. “Go. Okay? Go before I—”
He returned my kiss with a ferocious intensity. I pulled away from him, pressing my fingers against his lips to stop him.
He closed his eyes for a moment and grimaced. “I made a mistake. Wish I could take it back.”
I couldn’t change my mind. No matter what Emile said or did, Calind and I were a married couple, jetting off to fuck our way through the world.
The doorbell rang. My ride was here. Three hours had gone by way too fast.
Emile stood, pulled himself together, and threw his arms around me. He held me like he couldn’t let me go and kissed me like he could never let me leave.
Tearing away from him, I pressed my palm against his chest to prevent him from kissing me again.
I answered the door, letting the driver inside my home. He took my luggage and headed out the door without acknowledging Emile.
I took one last look at Emile. His heavy eyelashes were the only things I could see.
“Goodbye, Emile.”