Chapter Eight
I’m wrapped in warmth. In stages, I remember everything. “Aren’t I supposed to black out stuff?”
The something warm wrapped around me moves. “How are you?” Roy asks and slides his arm from underneath me and gets out of bed, rolling his injured shoulder to ease the stiffness.
“Mortified.” I peek up as he stretches his arms above his head, the glorious naked expanse of his muscled back open to my view.
He nods as if to himself and goes to the bathroom. “I gave you a little pharmaceutical cocktail to ease the pain.”
He did? I don’t remember.
He flushes the toilet, washes his hands, and comes back in. “I’ll make some breakfast.”
I roll over and cover my face. “Food…no.”
“Ever been drunk before?”
I groan and hide my face in the comforter. “I don’t drink.”
“You put on quite a show.” He chuckles and goes downstairs.
“I’m such an ass,” I mutter, and roll out of bed too fast. The floor shifts under my feet. Reaching out to steady myself with the bedpost, I take a few deep breaths and acclimate to being upright.
I smell bleach and look around to see he’s cleaned up the mess I made on the floor, and the bathroom is sparkling. He took care of me when I was so awful to him. When I teased him and danced naked. Naked. I close my eyes. I’m such an idiot.
The mirror is not my friend this morning. My eyes are puffy. My complexion is splotchy. My curly red hair unruly since I went to bed with it wet. I wash my face and brush my teeth. Colgate and Listerine are no match for my hangover breath. I drag a brush through my tangles, only to give up and braid it down my back. Finally, I pull on a pair of loose shorts, a sports bra, and a t-shirt and make my way to the kitchen.
Any other morning, the aroma of bacon frying and fresh coffee would have me taking the stairs two at a time. Right now, it’s revolting, and I hold my hand over my mouth.
“That will help.” He points toward the table, where a glass of blue liquids sits. “It’s Powerade. You need electrolytes and sodium and carbs.” He must have gone shopping or sent someone because he’s cooking scrambled eggs. I hate eggs except in cookies and cakes and bread. I guess it’s in bread. “Trust me.” He nods to the glass I’m holding like it contains arsenic. “I’ve been where you are.”
No smell. I take a sip. It’s cold and sweet and soothes my throat. While Roy’s busy stirring the eggs and putting bread in the toaster, I finish it. “So you’ve danced naked in front of a man?”
Roy laughs and scrapes the eggs onto a plate. “No, can’t say I have.” He pours another glass of the blue stuff, drops the plate of eggs in front of me, retrieves the toast and sets it on the table. Finally, he pulls a chair out for me and goes to sit facing me. “I enjoyed the show even if you gave me the worst case of blue balls of my life.”
“I’ll never touch alcohol again.”
“Doubtful.” He points to the plates of food. “Eat.”
“Does everyone do what you say?”
“You didn’t listen to me last night.” He takes a sip of coffee. “How’d that work out for you?”
He’s a smartass, but he has a point. “Aren’t you hungry?”
No response. He continues drinking his coffee like he’s waiting for me to do the right thing.
“Thank you.” I push the plate of eggs to the side. I’m nibbling on a slice of toast when I look up and catch him staring at my chest. I roll my shoulders forward, self-conscious and ashamed. “I behaved badly last night. The things I did. My aunts raised me better.”
He takes his time meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry for how I reacted at the restaurant. It was wrong of me, and not your fault. You trusted me to act like a man. I let you down. Can you forgive me?”
“I didn’t believe you’d come back.” I pick out a slice of bacon, not because I want it but needing something to do under his intense gaze. “You don’t have to be afraid I’ll do something to myself if you don’t want to…”
“I’ve never wanted a woman more.” He abruptly stands and goes to lean back against the counter. “You shame me.” He rakes his hands through his hair. “It never occurred to me you were a virgin. The way I spoke to you. Have you done nothing?”
“Other than Charlie.” I shudder and shake my head.
“Right, doesn’t count.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I can’t be the one.”
I wrap my arms around my chest.
“I’m shit at this. I meant you’ll need to initiate, so I don’t pressure you into anything you don’t want.”
“I want you,” I whisper. “I was drunk, but I meant what I said last night.”
He truly is like a large cat as he prowls across the room and kneels on one leg by my chair. “And I you.” He places his hands on either side of my face and lowers his lips to mine.
It’s a chaste kiss, yet manages to make my body tingle with the promise of things to come.
He quickly disengages. “Right, we can talk more about this tonight. I’ve got some research to do about your…condition.”
“My condition.” I wrap my hands around my coffee cup and inhale the heady aroma. “I don’t have a disease.”
“I’m crazy to even consider this.” He stops and faces me. “I mean look at me.” He lifts his large hands up. “I’m a bull, and you’re the china.”
I can’t help but smile at him using my analogy. “I’m not made of china.”
“And I’m too old for this.”
His words hurt. “Surely some of the hundreds of women you’ve seduced were virgins.” His ex-lovers must look like Black Friday shoppers lined up at their favorite store.
I know he’s tasted the sarcasm in my remark by the height of his raised eyebrow. “No, this is a first for me.” He kisses my forehead, my nose, and lightly brushes his lips against mine before releasing me. “I’ll make this right. I’ll call the doctor and sort out the best way to proceed.”
“Doctor? This isn’t some business venture where professionals are needed. People in love muddle through just fine.”
“Hmph.” He takes my coffee cup from me and points toward the stairs. “Go on, take a shower and get ready for work. I spoke with your Aunt Stella earlier and let her know you’d be late.”
I grab my cup back. Apparently, Roy doesn’t understand I function by the grace of the almighty coffee bean. “Thank you for calling them.” But I know they’re going to be merciless with their questions.
He playfully smacks my behind as I walk by. “What am I going to do with you?”
I’m wide-eyed and surprised that I like the sting.
“I need to warn you.” I freeze, afraid of what he’ll say. “I don’t share what is mine. You’ll do well to remember that.”
“Good, because I’d hate to have to fight for your honor.” And run up the stairs as fast as I can without spilling any coffee.
I’m all nerve endings and achy need as I wash my legs, which look like a patchwork quilt of mosquito bites and scratches. I spend a long time on my breasts. They’ve never felt so tender. My nipples are tight and pink and begging to be twisted. At first, I don’t notice the absence of my razor. Not the Lady Bic I shave my legs with, but Reggie’s old straight razor.
I know it was there last night. What the heck did I do with it? It has to be here somewhere, unless… I put on my best underwear set, jeans and a Mangler polo, and rush downstairs to confront Roy about the razor.
“Get the watch.”
Shit. I forgot about the Rolex and how he was forced into it by circumstance. “It’s too expensive,” I protest. “Please, return it. I don’t want you spending so much money on me.” I’m sure it’s worth more than the Buick and delivery van put together.
“Do you like it?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“Get it.”
I run back upstairs, pull the box from the bottom of my sock drawer, and dutifully bring it back to him.
He unlatches the clasp, holding it out to fit on my wrist. “Comfortable?”
“I don’t need a Rolex.”
He ignores my comment. “I’ll get this sized at the jeweler today.”
“Of course you will,” I exhale, and follow him out the door, having to jog to keep up with him.
“Deadbolt locks will be installed this afternoon.”
I halt while he waits by the open car door. “No, they won’t.”
He looks back at my house. “Vincent could easily kick your door in. Hell, you could probably kick it in.”
With determination, I meet his eyes and firmly say, “It’s my house. I appreciate your concern, but the answer is no.”
His face a storm cloud ready to erupt, he waits while I get in, closes the door, and slides in behind the wheel. “You’ll be staying with me anyway.”
I let his comment go. I’ve stood up for myself, and I’m going to keep doing it. I won’t be the little mouse anymore. When we leave my driveway, he reaches across and places his hand on my thigh. I smile and squeeze his hand.
“What time should I pick you up?” he asks, parking in front of the shop.
“We close at four.” I look to see if my aunts are watching from behind the counter and notice workmen doing something with our door.
“When I spoke to your aunt this morning, I broached the subject of a security upgrade. Being the reasonable woman she is, she agreed with my assessment.”
I turn back to him and narrow my eyes. “You’re a crafty one, aren’t you?”
“Oh, Miss Aldridge.” His smile has smug written all over it. “You have no idea how crafty I can be.”
I’m startled by a tap on the window.
“Bobby,” I squeal and launch out of the car. “How are you?”
His beefy arms wrap around me and squeeze me way too tight. He’s always had trouble knowing his own strength. “Dai, Dai.”
“Better let up there a bit, or you’ll crush her.”
“Roy.” Bobby releases me. His face glows as he looks up at Roy.
Right, Roy would know Bobby, Mr. Stanwyck’s brother, since he’s a client of Roy’s company. I still can’t get over Mr. Stanwyck and Roy and Bobby knowing each other.
Roy pats him on the shoulder. “Good to see you.”
“Yes. Yes.” Bobby grabs my hand and leads me past the workmen and right up to the counter.
My chest constricts. There sits a small, white-wrapped box with a plastic daisy on top.
“Foun’ it,” Bobby says.
I smile, though I want to scream. One has to stay calm around Bobby. Years ago, I saw him stand and shriek like a wounded animal while at the post office. An employee having an altercation with an irate customer realized too late he was there. All the locals know of his condition; I’m not exactly sure what you’d call it other than brain damage. He had a horseback-riding accident before I was born. He was once a partner in business with his brother. Now he’s a grown man with the mind of a five-year-old.
He’s still pointing at the odious package, and I know he wants me to open it. He’s known me my whole life and has seen the yearly gift before.
“Where did you find it?”
“They did.” Aunt Mae indicates the workmen. “It was up on the stoop roof. Like someone had tossed it there by mistake when trying to throw it at the door.”
Roy is rolling it over in his hand. I can see the wrapping paper is wet in places, and it does look like it’s been sitting there a while.
“Anything on the cameras?” I know what the answer will be. We’ve never seen anything on the security cameras before. Suddenly, Roy’s insistence of new equipment doesn’t seem overprotective anymore.
“I can have my techs give them a look.” He looks to my aunts. “If you don’t mind.”
Mae and Stella nod at the same time.
Bobby’s huffing. Something he does when excited.
I ready myself for the inevitable. “Do you want me to open it?”
“Yes! Yes!”
“Should I call his brother?” Roy places the gift on the counter.
Is he trying to make the situation worse? “No need.” I grit my teeth and smile. “Let’s see what this is.”
I give the daisy to Bobby, who immediately tucks it behind his ear, smiling like he won the lottery. The white paper all but falls away at my touch to reveal a small red jewelry box with Cartier written in gold letters.
I meet Roy’s eyes. “Should I open it? Fingerprints, maybe?”
“Go ahead. We can quickly discount your prints.”
Bobby’s shifting his weight likes he’s trying to tip over a canoe. It’s what he does when he isn’t happy. As I go to open it, his anxiety, fear—I don’t know which—intensifies.
“No, no, NO.” He grabs the box, throwing it against the wall. “Sol, sol.” And marches around the room and points at Roy.
Bobby communicates in one-syllable words. I know he’s had therapy through the years, but it’s all he can manage. At least he understands when others speak in more than one syllable. Which is something, I guess, but right now it’s damn confusing to know what he’s trying to tell us, other than he’s not happy about something.
My aunts move in tandem around the counter, but Roy cuts them off. “He can get physical,” he warns. “Bobby, let’s go out back and help the installers. I bet they’ll let you use the drill.”
He’s not placated and grabs the gift paper, tearing it to shreds. I’ve never seen him like this. While his attention is diverted, I grab the Cartier box, which slid under the coffee cabinet. I’m afraid he’ll try and destroy it if I don’t rescue it.
Roy stands in front of him with his hands out to the side, looking like he’s going to tackle him at any moment. The techs are in the doorway, ready to assist.
Maybe because he’s cornered by Roy? Or maybe he’s upset at not being able to make himself understood. Whatever the case, one moment he’s stomping and the next, he sinks to the floor, rocking himself.
“I’ll call Travis.” Aunt Mae goes to the wall phone and dials.
Travis is Bobby’s caregiver. I hope he gets here soon, because I don’t know what to do. Should I sit with Bobby? Should I try and talk with him, or leave him?
“I’ve seen him like this a few times. It’s best to let him be.” Roy stretches his neck. “You got a Coke?”
“Yeah, in the back.” I trot past the counter and into the back room. Grab one from the back of the fridge where it’s coldest. “Here.” I hand it to him.
“Bobby.” Roy twists the top so it’s almost off and lightly places his hand on the man’s shoulder, holding the Coke in front of his face. “It’s your favorite.”
Bobby doesn’t look up, but takes the Coke and drinks half of it.
“I think we’re good now.” Roy’s standing to the side of Bobby. “Go ahead.” He nods to the box. “Let’s see what it is.”
I turn the box in my hand. It’s old. Faded at the edges, and the gold script rubbed off in places. The hinge is stiff. Inside rests a square emerald the size of my knuckle, encircled with baguette diamonds that catch the light.
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” Mae makes the sign of the cross on her chest even though she’s not Catholic.
Bobby’s rocking back and forth, but, thankfully, isn’t verbalizing anything.
Not knowing what else to do, I set the opened box on the counter.
The bell above the door rings and we all whirl around, or, in my aunts’ case, look up. Can today get any stranger? Yes, I guess it can, because Mr. Stanwyck is standing in the doorway with a facial expression that would terrify a serial killer.
“Bobby, it’s time to go home.”
“No, no.” He huffs and points toward the ring.
I don’t know why I want to hide it. It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong.
Mr. Stanwyck glares at the ring. I swear I can hear his teeth grind.
Roy goes to Bobby. “Come on.” He helps him up, and, amazingly, Bobby shuffles along beside him. “I’ll help get him out to the car.”
Mr. Stanwyck rouses. His gaze shifts from the ring to me. He’s never been friendly, but right now I think he’d strangle me if he could.
Bobby starts to wail his protest at leaving.
“No need.” Mr. Stanwyck raises his voice above Bobby’s. “You said your piece last night.” He turns and grabs his brother’s arm, dragging him out of Mangler; all the while, Bobby continues to wail.
Roy stands in the doorway, watching. “He’s gotten him in the car.”
“I hope he’s alright.” I sag against the counter, and my aunts flock around me. “What set him off?”
“It’s hard to say.” Roy picks up the box, inspecting the ring. “Maybe he was expecting a toy?”
“Is it real?”
“I’ll get it checked out.”
“Daisy.” Mae clears her throat. “If you want to go home, we’ll understand. There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”
Right. Like I want to sit at home and obsess. I think not. “I need to keep busy.”
“Ladies.” Roy nods to my aunts, and I walk out to the car with him.
“You talked to Mr. Stanwyck last night?”
“I did. Given what you told me, I thought it best to inform him of our relationship. He agreed we should void our contract.”
“Won’t that hurt your company?”
“No.”
“He hates me, blames me for Charlie’s death.”
“Have you ever thought he hates the situation?” He slightly shakes his head as if clearing his thoughts. “You don’t have to be afraid.” He slides his free hand around my neck, and draws me into his chest.
“I’m not. I want answers.” I’m determined to be strong and capable and take this new development in stride and not let it disrupt all the positive things in my life. “So, you still want me to come over…to christen the house?”
“We’ll have dinner.” He nods his head toward the store. I look back, and my aunts are both at the window. “We need to take this slow.”
Mr. Lethal wants to take things slow. Isn’t that supposed to be my position? “Okay,” I respond, “wouldn’t want to rush into anything you aren’t ready for.”
His look is quick and amused. “Go on, I’ll be here at four.”
“You alright, dear?” Aunt Stella’s pouring coffee into her favorite mug when I go back inside. The one bought at Williamsburg when she chaperoned my seventh-grade field trip.
“I thought it wasn’t going to happen this year.”
“We all hoped.” Mae sits behind the counter, pretending to review today’s delivery invoices. “If anyone can solve this, it’a be Roy. He’s a good man. Reminds me of my Reggie, the way he looks at you.”
A high compliment, ’cause there was no better man than Reggie. “We’re dating.” I declare, thinking they need to know.
“We figured.” Stella puts some cream in her coffee. “On the phone this morning, we asked him over to dinner next Tuesday. Thought it would be a good time to have a talk with him about his intentions.”
“We’re dating.” I take a sip to calm down. “His intentions are for us to get to know each other.”
“Right.” Stella takes a sip of coffee. “Roy’s a man, my Daisy, not a boy.”
Okay, I’m not sure what she means. Whatever it is, my aunts are both smiling like lunatics. Seriously, I can’t take anymore weirdness today.
“Are the deliveries ready to go?”
They’re still smiling like they know a secret I don’t.
“Stop it.”
“Here.” Mae hands me the sheets. “We loaded everything in the van this morning.”
“Oh.” Stella hands me a tumbler of coffee. “And Buzzy fixed the AC.”
I don’t think I could get by another day without air conditioning. “We owe him a pecan pie. I know he’s stacked up with work at the garage.”
“On it.” Stella shoos me toward the door. “Now go on.”
Three hours into my deliveries, when I’m loading up some vintage sheets for repair, I get a text from Roy.
Miss You.
I hit back. U 2.
I hear the ping of his reply when I get in the van.
A riding accident.
Random, I text back. IGU.
I’m almost ready to spell it out for him when I receive.
Bobby.
I know where he’s going with this.
His next text. Non-negotiable.
Bobby wasn’t wearing a helmet, which I do, or a safety vest, again something I do, but telling Roy this is going to be impossible, especially via text.
We’ll discuss later.
I picture him shaking his head at the phone, giving it a death glare.
No discussion needed.
Correct, ’cause I’m going to keep riding.
I’ll give you something to ride. Now stop texting me. Some of us have work to do. See you in 2 hours.
Mr. Lethal has a sense of humor mixed with a lot of control issues. Imagine that.
My last three deliveries are of the long-winded variety. Also, they know I have a sweet tooth and take Southern hospitality to heart. So I’ve had three homemade donuts, one slice of cobbler, and way too many glasses of sweet tea by the time I pull into the back parking lot of Mangler. My hangover is a bad memory, and I’m humming like an electrical line with all the sugar running through my system.
When I pull behind Mangler, Vincent has managed to hog two parking spots with his minuscule sports car. I’m half tempted to shift into first gear and nudge him out of the way. I don’t. Instead, I park partially in the grass and hustle up the steps and through the back door. I scope out the front, see no sign of Mr. Lethal, and walk toward the bathroom, fully intending to freshen up a bit before he arrives.
“Oh God.” I slap my hand over my eyes when I rush by the sorting room.
Vincent is wearing the male version of Daisy Duke shorts except, instead of denim, the fabric is a white, clingy material. Satin, I think. Along with a long tail jacket made out of the same material, and a top hat. He’s shimmying around like a go-go dancer until Aunt Stella smacks his thigh as she tries to fit the coat.
“What do you think?”
I peek through my fingers, wishing I could turn around and go back outside. “Why?”
“For the party.” He dutifully turns for Stella so she can pin a seam. “You know, the one I told you about.”
I’d forgotten about his invite from Jason.
“Why are you dressed…” I wave my hand around his ensemble. “Like that?”
Stella takes the pins out of her mouth and stabs them into the cushion. “It’s his homage to Studio 54. He’s pretending to be a busboy.”
“Is this why you insisted we watch Roller Boogie?” His shorts are an exact copy of what Linda Blair wore in the movie, elastic waistband and all.
Vincent wiggles out of the jacket. Now all he’s wearing are the shorts and hat as he twirls around the room, stopping when he hears the front door open.
I’m too late in blocking him, and he’s already skirted by me and is welcoming Roy, who looks like a sex god in an expensive suit.
Vincent lifts his top hat. “Mr. Blackwood, so nice to see you again.”
Roy’s only reaction is an amused grin. Does he ever get frazzled? I have a flashback from last night; I’m part horrified and part proud at how I cracked the controlled demeanor of Mr. Lethal.
Stella comes in with her handbag on her arm. “Welcome to the asylum.” She smiles at Roy and sashays out the front door, leaving us to close up.
“Mmm, I do love a man who works out.” Vincent dramatically ogles Roy.
I love Vincent, but he can be a bit much.
“You're welcome,” Roy replies and gives Vincent’s outfit the once-over. “Grocery shopping?”
“Safeway would be so lucky.”
“Go on, busboy.” I point to the back room. “Get changed. I need to close up.”
Vincent pretends to pout, but obliges.
“Halloween costume?”
I shake my head. “Some party.” I don’t mention Jason will be there, but maybe I don’t need to because I see a flash of recognition. Or maybe I’m projecting my guilt at not telling him. What’s wrong with me? I don’t have to tell him everything.
“Bye, bitches,” Vincent yells, closing the back door.
“Hang on a minute.” I run to the back, grab my purse, and meet Roy at the front door.
“Ready?” He holds the door for me.
It’s the first time I’ve locked up with the new security system. “Do I need to do anything different?”
His eyes narrow for a moment, and he nods and takes me to the back, where a small panel is attached to the back door wall. “I’ll install the app on your phone, but for now, press the green button to arm it.” He does so, and the light flashes. “You have a minute or so to leave.” He takes my hand and walks so fast I have to jog behind him. “Close and lock the door. That’s it.” He points to the new floodlights above where the box was found. “Cameras in the lights. They're all around the perimeter.”
“And the code?”
He opens the car door and waits. “The techs said there was quite a debate about the security password. Eventually, your aunts settled on Twinkie.”
Twinkies put in the freezer for about twenty minutes were our favorite snack when I was a kid. I giggle and slide into the seat.
He closes the door, and I can make out mumbling as he walks around the vehicle. Probably about how even our security codes have to do with sugar.
“You’re bad for me.” Roy slips into the car and takes my chin in his hand. “I haven’t been able to focus on work today.”
His lips are gentle when they meet mine, but after dancing around in front of him and spending the whole day thinking about last night and him naked in my bathroom and the way his eyes blaze when he looks at me with lust—me!—I almost squeal and grab his tie and wrap it around my hand and pull him hard against my lips. His hand cups my face as he kisses me with passion and longing until I’m not sure I remember my own name.
He leans back in his seat. Calm and in control, with his eyebrow cocked. “Eager, Miss Aldridge?”
I blow out a breath. “You have no idea.”
He laughs and puts the car in gear. “I highly doubt that.”
“You missed the turn,” I say as he drives past the road to my home. “I need to change.”
“I have everything you need.”
I find myself squirming in my seat. I’m sure Roy does, in more ways than one. “Did you learn anything about the ring?”
“Nothing yet.” He turns onto Atoka Road. “My people are working on it.”
“My people,” I repeat, thinking he sounds like Charlton Heston in The Ten Commandments.
“You’re in high spirits. And I was worried the gift might have upset you.”
Which reminds me of something. “My razor. I want it back.”
“Oh, you noticed, did you?”
“I did.”
“Only a precaution.”
How does he know the razor is my implement of choice? “Precaution against what? Shaving my legs?”
His glance is quick and sharp. “We’re in a relationship; it’s my duty to protect you.”
“This isn’t the eighteen hundreds. I’m a grown woman.” I didn’t use it last night, and I’m not using it again. “I don’t need you treating me like a child.”
“Are you sure? Cause I think you will, sooner than you think.”
I almost blurt out for Charlie to stay out of this. When will he ever leave my head? “It was Reggie’s,” I whisper. I’ve never connected the three of them together in my head: Charlie; the blade; and Reggie. I remember watching as he’d lather his whiskers and use the razor with such precision. It was magical. He would make me promise not to make him smile but, of course, it was all part of the game, and I always did. “You know what? Keep it safe for me.”
I stiffen, waiting for a barrage of comments from Charlie. Nothing.
Perhaps needing some drama, or hating that maybe it was a good idea for him to take the blade, I blurt out, “Did you talk to the doctor? Tell me it wasn’t Scott.” The medic, as Roy called him, who stitched up his back.
“I have a gynecologist on staff for my female employees.”
“What are you afraid of?” I don’t know much, but I don’t think it’s normal for a man to be this concerned about my inexperience.
He’s turned into the private drive for Chadwick Farm. “Breaking you.”
My knees involuntarily clamp together, and I know he catches my movement. Damn him. “You're overly cautious.” I’m not made of glass. “It’s my sexuality, and if I want to have sex, I’ll have sex.” Which is where I should leave it, but, of course, I don’t. “If it bothers your sensibilities I’m sure it wouldn’t be too difficult to find a man to take care of this matter—”
His arm presses me back against the seat a second before he slams on the brakes and slowly turns to face me. This is a man I don’t know, his face a mask, devoid of emotion other than the laser-like focus of his eyes on mine.
“I’m sure you’re right, Miss Aldridge. It wouldn’t be difficult to find a man to take his pleasure from you and leave you bloodied.”
I inhale sharply as he removes his hand and continues to his home.
Without saying another word, he opens the door and takes my hand, walking me up to the entrance. “Welcome to Chadwick.” He closes the door behind me.
My feet sink into an oriental rug. Before there was only hardware flooring. An ornate foyer table with a floral arrangement of orchids and roses sets off the once empty space. The massive staircase curved up to the second floor gleams with polish. Abstract art hangs down the long hallway.
“The designer made a few changes.” He steps into my personal space.
I step back, and again, until my shoulder blades hit the closed door.
His hands run up my legs, spreading them wide and lifting me as he presses himself against the exact spot in desperate need of his attention.
“Now, what were you saying?” He growls a second before claiming my mouth.
I thought I’d felt the power of Roy’s kiss. I know nothing. I’m held immobile while he ignites my body with his lips, his tongue, his chest pressing against my breasts as I wrap my arms around his shoulders.
He’s pouring all his need into the kiss, and it goes on and on until my hips struggle against his grip to grind against his hardness.
He groans and releases my now-swollen lips to rest his forehead against mine. “The thought of anyone else... Are you alright?”
I’m like dynamite ready for the flame. Yes, I’m way more than alright.
“I didn’t scare you.”
Ah, I see now what he means. I smile and run my fingers through his dark hair and pull his head back. “More.”
He growls and, without breaking the embrace, carries me up the long staircase to the master bedroom, where he sets me on the bed and slides his hands up my arms to disentangle them from around his neck.
“I know what your body needs.” He stands between my legs, making me look up at him. “And I’ll be the man to give it to you.”
He steps back, smooths his tie, and rolls his neck a few times while I’m left on the bed, disheveled inside and out.
“Make yourself at home.” He nods to the left. “There are clothes for you in the closet. Take your time. I have some calls to make.” He lifts his eyebrow and runs his thumb over his bottom lip. “Since a beautiful woman has had my mind preoccupied all day.” He turns and leaves without a look back.
I fall back onto the bed, still reeling from his lips and hands on my body and wanting more, so much more. When my heart rate slips into a normal range, I slide off the sumptuous bed linens and look around.
The curtains are gone, though the wooden blinds are still in place. The carpet looks freshly cleaned. The furniture is new. Modern but not austere, and it suits the room. I inhale the scent of lemon oil and freshly laundered linens. How did he get this done so fast?
I’m not a clotheshorse, but I love good fabric and stitching. Quality lasts, and everything in the closet is well-made and stylish and a bit sexy. My fingers linger on the delicate bras and panties hung on padded hangers. Some are so sheer it would be like wearing nothing at all. Others are lavished with lace and silk in a kaleidoscope of colors.
Who purchased these? Did his assistant pick these out? Is this how he sees me, dressed to perfection like a society lady? Or is he merely providing for me? I know he means well, but I don’t own these clothes, and it reminds me of when I was little and playing dress-up from my aunts’ closets.
I expected something more of the bathroom, which is surprisingly mundane. There is a tub, but it’s no bigger than the one I have. The shower seems like an afterthought and not built for a man well over six feet tall. Of course, everything is clean and polished, but I’m sure Roy has this on his list to upgrade. The bones of the room are good. The ceiling is high, and a balcony looks out onto the gardens below. Lavender and honeysuckle vines should be planted onto a trellis. It would be blissful to soak in the tub and take in the aroma as it drifts up into the room.
Turning away from the spectacular view, I’m startled when I catch my reflection in the long mirror over the double sinks. The woman gazing back at me has red, swollen lips. Her washed-out blue eyes sparkle like she knows a wonderful secret. I touch my cheek to make sure the reflection does the same.
“What am I doing here?” My reflection doesn’t answer, but Charlie’s ghost does.
“All men love a challenge. He’ll find out soon enough you’re a frigid, little cunt.”
I shudder and bite my lip, hard, needing the pain. When I’m in Roy’s arms, there is no doubt. Perhaps I should listen to his voice instead of Charlie. I shake my head. It’s not Charlie, it’s me.
I need Roy, his touch, his voice, to be the focus of his ice-green eyes. Taking the steps two at a time, my hand sliding over the smooth banister, I hear Roy’s voice drift up from the foyer. I follow the sound to the library.
He’s on the phone, pacing, as he does so often with me when something displeases him. I should go in straightaway. Instead, I linger, not sure if the call is private. Not sure how I fit into his life yet.
“I can’t leave now,” he growls into the phone. “I know what’s in the bloody contract. Yes, it’s fucking because of her.” From his reflection in the glass, I see him rake his hand through his hair. “Don’t you think I know? Don’t you think I tried to stay away?”
Are they talking about me? Why would Roy want to stay away from me?
“She looks younger than she is.” He slams his fist on the table, causing the books laid out on top to tremble as if an earthquake had struck. “I’m not a fucking monster; she’s old enough to drink.”
He’s pacing again and moves out of my view.
“I need her protected while I’m gone. You’re the only one I trust.” Roy walks back to the window. “I don’t care. Do whatever it takes. This is personal now. Break his fucking legs if you have to.”
I back away, bash into a side table. The lamp teeters dangerously close to toppling over. His eyes register my movement. For an instant, I see the rage in them.
“Get on the damned plane.” He tosses the cell phone on the table. “Daisy.”
I run down the hallway, my hand on the front doorknob by the time he reaches me.
“Daisy.” His hand lights on my shoulder.
I flinch away and face him. “Don’t.”
Hands lifted, he backs up giving me space. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to go. I don’t belong here.”
“You overheard the call…It’s not what you think.”
“I don’t know who you are.”
A deep inhalation of breath doubles the size of his chest. “It’s business.”
“Breaking someone’s legs.” I lift my eyebrows. “Is that one of your services? Tell me, do you charge per leg or is it a package deal?”
“I was making a point.” He doesn’t look away and fixes me with his gaze, holding me in place, demanding I accept him for who he is. “I have to leave you. The contract I was on.” He lifts his injured shoulder. “They need us to come back. I was talking to an associate about your safety.”
My eyelids narrow into slits. “I thought you were a security company for the movies.” Even as I say this, I remember the Titan website. His company provides security and private military. Why didn’t I make the connection earlier? “You’re a mercenary.”
“Not even close. Our military services are only contracted out to the U.S. Government.”
I look him over. Everything about him, from the hard, angular bone structure of his face to his hawkish green eyes, his thick and heavily muscled torso, legs like tree trunks, is the personification of a warrior. He’s spent his entire life fighting and protecting. He will never change. Either I take him as he is, or I walk away because pretending he’s only a businessman will lead to both of us being miserable.
“Whose legs are you going to break?”
“I can’t bear for you to be afraid of me.”
I know what his answer will be, but need to hear the name. “Tell me.”
“I’d cleared my schedule to be here while Jason is shooting.”
“And now you have to go.”
“No one threatens what is mine.”
“I’m not a thing, I’m a person. You don’t own me. And I don’t even understand why you care for me. You could have anyone.”
He paces in front of me and rakes his hands through his hair. Wary, like he’s afraid I’ll run away, he inches closer until we’re almost touching. “I don’t want to own you. I want to keep you safe. Give you everything you need. To know you’re happy. I’ve never felt that for a woman before, never.” He lightly brushes his finger over my cheekbone. “Asking why I care for you is like asking why I love music or art. It’s not something I can explain. You make my heart beat.” He drops his hand and steps to the side. “I did what was right and stayed away. I fought this, but it’s too hard, too dark away from you.” He reaches around me and opens the door. “But if you don’t want me, I won’t stop you from leaving.”
“Seeing you angry. Knowing it’s because of me. Knowing what you’re capable of… It scares me.”
He goes still, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. “What do you mean, capable of?”
“Killing people.”
“You killed me,” Charlie whines.
For the first time, I mentally answer back with a no. I didn’t kill Charlie.
Roy stretches his neck until it cracks. “I’m not some mad dog.”
I’ve hurt him. My eyes run over his large hands. How much pain have they caused? And I remember his scars. How much pain has he endured?
“We all have secrets in our scars, Miss Aldridge.”
It’s like he picked the words out of my mind, but he’s right, we do. And I know Roy is a good man. I’m looking for excuses to pretend I don’t want him. “Don’t hurt Jason. He’s not worth it.”
“Fuck Jason. It’s you I’m worried about. Are you afraid of me, Daisy? Do I scare you?”
“Not the Roy I know. It’s the other Roy, the one I don’t know…”
“There’s only me, and I’m incapable of harming you.”
Cautious, like he’s afraid I’ll run, he shuts the door, and I let him wrap his arms around me. My soft curves press against the hard planes of his chest. “I know.”
He places soft, sweet kisses on my forehead, my cheeks, and my lips as he carries me upstairs.
“When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow evening.” He places me back on my feet, takes my hand, and walks into the bedroom. “I’ll be gone at least a week.”
“We need more time.” What if he’s hurt again? I won’t let myself think about what it would be like if he didn’t come back. “Can’t you send someone else?”
He shakes his head. “I need your body against mine.” He tosses his jacket over the back of a chair. “It’s weak, I know.” He pulls his tie free and lets it fall where it may. “I can’t read you. Are you ready to bolt? Do you want to stay?” The top button is released and each subsequent one until he yanks his shirt free and rolls his shoulders out of the garment.
Eyes are the gateways to the soul, and they seek out what attracts them. Right now, Roy is all I see, all I want. I’m not sure what wanting him fully means, but my body has no time to wait for my mind to catch up.
“Tell me you aren’t afraid.”
“I’m not,” I whisper. With Roy’s bare chest and his desire clearly displayed by the hardened outline stressing the seams of his pants, I find it difficult to think of anything but the Technicolor memory of him naked in my bathroom. “Oh!” Muscles I didn’t know I had, clench deep inside as he runs his thumb over his lower lip. Yes, I want those on my body.
He moves with muscled grace, like he’s stalking me. “Did you mean it,” his voice husky, “what you said last night?”
There’s no doubt what he’s referring to. When I don’t answer, he moves to the bed, standing so close I have to lean back on my arms to see his face. “You made me promise to make you come.” His tongue lightly skims over his lip. “You remember?”
Yes, I remember, and squeeze my thighs together.
His eyes catch the movement.
“I was drunk and…”
“Quite.” His hands press into the mattress on either side of my hips, our lips almost touching. “You know what I think?” He lightly kisses my neck. “I believe you're aroused by me. And it scares you.”
My head falls to the side, giving him full access to my neck. His hand, warmer than my skin, slides between my knees, coaxing them open until he kneels between them.
My legs, stretched wide by the width of his massive shoulders, shake. My fingers timidly trace over his thick shoulders. His hand slides around the back of my neck, pulling my mouth to his, and immediately his tongue presses between my lips. I welcome the strange sensation of having him inside me. His hand glides underneath my shirt, the slight roughness of his fingers marking me as he moves up to my sore breasts and I press into his palm like an offering.
With the snap of a hypnotist’s fingers, the desire I’ve long repressed roars to the forefront and refuses to be denied. I’m frantic with the need to rub my skin against his. My shirt tangles in my grasp. Roy rips it down the middle, and it hangs in shreds along my sides.
“So beautiful,” he growls, his hands encircling my waist, his eyes branding me.
I’m wanton and needy, and my fingers fumble at the clasp of my bra.
“Here.” His hand runs around my back and releases the catch, freeing the straps until only his eyes cover me. He groans. “Your breasts, your fucking breasts.” And he descends on them, drawing the tender flesh between his lips. Sucking each nipple, teasing and pinching until my back bows and my fingers pull his hair, drawing him closer to me. I need more, so much more.
With a groan, Roy releases my breasts, now swollen and deliciously sore, and runs his hands over my calves, under my knees, and to the top of my inner thighs. “I want to lick and suck and taste you.” His eyes travel over my body as he cups his hand over my core. “Here.”
There’s no thought process, only stimuli and response, and immediately I’m backing away from him, not because I’m afraid, but to give myself room to get out of my jeans.
At first, he rests back on his heels—until he realizes what I’m doing and efficiently frees my legs until my jeans go flying. My serviceable, cotton panties follow seconds later.
With his hands around my waist, he yanks my ass to the edge of the bed, bringing us face-to-face. “Promise me,” he growls. “You’ll tell me if you don’t want something. Anything that triggers bad memories.”
“What?” I’m an amnesiac unable to remember what he’s referring to. “Please,” I beg, “don’t stop.”
“Lay back, baby.” Lightly, his hand rests on my stomach, urging me to relax. “I’ll take care of you.” Running hands up my leg, he rests my thighs on his shoulders.
It’s deeply intimate, and my newfound confidence falters as I think of his mouth, there.
“So sweet,” he murmurs, reassuring me, kissing the tender flesh of my inner thighs.
“Please, Roy, not there.” Not the scars I carved after Charlie.
“Stop him,” he hisses.
Go away, go away, GO AWAY, I inwardly scream.
“Shh,” he murmurs. With his tongue, he traces each scar. “So beautiful.” His warm hand rests flat upon my abdomen. His tongue, thick and flat, glides over my opening and up to my clitoris.
My back arches off the bed.
“Fuck, Daisy.” He licks me again. “So fucking sweet.” He goes back to devouring me. “I’ll never get enough of you.” He groans and continues the delicious torture.
I throw my head back in frustration. His tongue doesn’t stay long enough where I need it. “I’m dying.” I lift my hips to his mouth when he hits exactly the right spot. It’s like trying to swim ashore only to be swept away again and again.
“You want this?” I jolt as he focuses all his attention on my clitoris.
I whimper and buck against him. Each stroke of his tongue sends liquid fire through my body. My legs open wide as his hands cup my ass and gently lift me up to his mouth.
He brushes his mouth against my inner thigh. “Fucking nirvana.”
Without shame, I tilt my pelvis to lure him back to my core. When he resumes, I grab the sheets, balling them up into my fists. “Please,” I urge, not truly knowing what it is I’m begging for.
“Look at me, baby.” Drunken with desire, I lift my head and meet his smoldering green eyes as he stands and looms over me. “I’m going to watch you come.”
Boldly, I size up his erection. “I want you inside me.” I reach out my hand, but he grabs my wrist inches away from him.
“No, baby. I can’t let myself go, not yet.”
I want to argue, but he lies on the bed and pulls me against his body.
“You’ve never masturbated? Never had an orgasm?”
I still. “Once, I tried, but nothing… What if I can’t—”
He leans in and kisses me like I might break into a million pieces. “We have all night.” His hand slides over my breasts, my flat belly, and between my legs. “Open them,” he commands. With one finger, he circles around my wetness and up to my clitoris. “When I’m gone, I want you to do this to yourself.”
He’s talking, but I’m not listening because what he’s doing to my body is so fucking amazing.
“I want to see your eyes.” His finger stills and he waits for my full attention “Your eyes, I need to see them.”
I watch, fascinated and almost detached, as he sucks on my hard nipple, lightly rolling it between his teeth. “Bite…oh…yes…harder,” I beg. He releases it but continues to slide his fingers over me. “Please,” I plead.
His brow furrows, and his eyes narrow slightly. His leg traps mine underneath, spreading me wide.
I’m incoherent, my head turning from side to side as his fingers resume with more pressure and speed. “Yes, yes.” If I were in my right mind, I’d be mortified by the way my hips grind against his fingers.
“That’s it, baby,” he urges.
I want to scream. I need more. Why can’t he understand? “I can’t…”
Roy kisses a line from my neck to my ear.
I’ll lose my sanity if this keeps up much longer. I reach out and press my hand against the headboard. The pleasure is too much. I need a release. I need the quick sharpness of pain. It’s how I’ve always achieved relief and why should this be any different, and I’m more desperate than ever. “Nipple…please,” I cry.
He sucks it between his lips while his slick fingers are unrelenting as they glide back and forth over the needy and torturous spot between my legs.
I could spend an eternity like this, and at the same time, I can’t bear another second of it. Suddenly, my body tenses and I think my bones will break and the earth’s rotation ceases. I inhale, and I’m soaring on a wave of pure bliss rolling through me, lifting me ever higher, until I’m spent and boneless.