Chapter 2

2

L iz

Knocking on the door, I peer inside.

A smell of freshly brewed coffee drifts from nearby, yet no one comes to the door, which is positively locked.

Glancing to the side, I notice a small lit room with a basket of goodies––pastries, donuts, and fruit––and empty mugs and clean glasses on a food table inside.

The woman slides a pitcher of orange juice next to the food as I knock on the door.

She glances at me and slides the door open, a glint of surprise in her eyes.

"Something happened?" she says before I have the chance to talk.

"Uh… No. I'd like to check out."

"Oh…"

Her eyes dip to my hand.

"You can leave the key in the box."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. What else?"

"Do you want to check the room?"

She peels her eyes away from me and goes back to arranging the food and drinks on the table.

"I'm sure it's fine."

She glances at me again.

"You can have breakfast while you're here," she suggests.

I ponder the idea before walking in.

I wish I had worn something different. My whole eighties vixen look no longer cuts it.

I doubt the woman is into role playing, but she must've seen a lot in her life, so nothing seems to faze her.

"Do you take cash?" I ask, reaching inside my pocket.

She stops me with a faint gesture.

"Don't worry. It's been paid for."

My hand stays in my pocket while my lips pull apart.

"It's included in the room price?"

"Something like that," she says, her back turned to me.

It's probably not, but I pull my hand out and shift my focus to the food.

It looks delicious, the smell of pastries and coffee filling the room.

She heads out before I grab a small plate and pile a couple of donuts and fruit on it.

I pour myself a cup of coffee, take a sip, and get a much needed energy boost from the caffeine.

It would be nice to be able to call Chloe, but this is not the place to make a video call, so I silently munch on my food before the woman returns and a couple of men enter the room, chatting about their business.

I finish quickly, say goodbye to the woman, and make myself scarce, eager to return to my new ride.

A long sigh leaves my lungs when I slide in, lean back, and relax in the driver's seat.

It's so damn early, and I brim with energy.

Glancing at myself in the rearview mirror while absently brushing my hair with my fingers, I still wonder where David is.

Is he asleep?

Or is he thinking about me like I'm thinking about him?

Maybe none of the above?

Perhaps he's already shifted his focus to something else. Business. Travel plans. Something like that.

I wonder what time he had left last night.

The question sat on my lips, and I almost asked that woman. Luckily, we couldn't talk.It would've been so embarrassing.

The engine is still running, and the sky is getting bluer by the minute as I let my fingers brush over the phone.

I can't call him.

‘Don't you dare to call him,' the stubborn voice inside my head barks at me.

‘That's what I just said,' I reply, not in the mood to argue with her.

Calling him and thanking him for everything would make me look like a puppy learning her first trick and trying to please her owner.

A puppy can get away with it. In fact, her behavior would only increase the owner's affection toward her.

That's not the case with men and women.

I'm not planning to play hard to get––that train has already sailed––but I won't make the mistake of expressing warm, candid feelings when it's not the case.

Let's not forget that hooking up with David Moore is like playing Russian Roulette.

It can get you killed. Although in my case, only metaphorically.

So… Who can I call?

Not my mother.

She's probably asleep.

Not a local friend.

I don't have that many, and it's Saturday morning, after all.

Not him. Evidently. He's not my husband.

Chloe?

No. No.

I set my phone in the cup holder and steer the car away, abandoning the idea and focusing on my ride.

It feels like a dream.

I've never been a car aficionado.Other than admitting that having a car was a necessity––although I've struggled with that lately––I couldn't tell one brand from another.

But man, have I been wrong?

You don't know what you don't know. This is an entirely different experience.I enjoy it tremendously before thinking about Chloe again.

I should call her and start lying to her instead of anyone else.

It's easier, I think, than facing my mother and telling her about my new car.

So, what will I tell Chloe?

I check the rearview mirror and change lanes, gaining speed. The silence is brutal inside the car and in my head.

The interior smells nice, a mix of newness, a hint of him, freshly brewed coffee, and the product I put in my hair.

‘Don't look at me,' the voice in my head grumps. ‘And, yes. I know it smells nice. Knock it off.'

I shake my head slowly.

‘You're such a sorehead,' I toss at her.

‘You'd be too if you were me and had to deal with your nonsense.'

I laugh.

And then I make an effort to figure out a story about my car. Something people can actually buy.

‘You're a writer. Make something up,' she says.

‘That's what I'm trying to do. If you could only keep your mouth shut.'

A few moments pass.

I roll the window down, and the smell of trees sneaks inside.

‘You won't be able to get away with your lie,' she mutters, and my attention goes back to her.

"No? And what should I do? Tell them the truth? No fucking way," I mumble before continuing in my head. ‘This is the craziest thing I've ever heard. I can't tell them that David Moore had gifted me the car. Or that he'd given me money. I'd rather hide everything from them than come clean about it.'

‘Sure. And ride the bus in the meantime?'

‘Yeah. Why not?'

I think about it for a moment.

‘I might have an argument with David at some point and return his gifts. And then what? What am I supposed to say then? That we were lovers? That he was my client?'

Client.

Mmm. That sounds dirty and delicious.

It brings Rain's book to the front of my mind, pushing a quiver of naughty pleasure through me.

‘An argument about what? The color of your butt plug?' she retorts, and I crack a smile.

‘You didn't just say that. Why do you have to eavesdrop all the time.'

‘Sorry. I'm in your head. That's what I do.' Her hands go up. ‘I know, I know. I need to mind my own business… Anyway…' She sounds tired. ‘Keep it a secret as much as you want. You'll only make your life more difficult than it already is.'

"That's all right," I drawl. ‘I can live with that. I'll park my new ride down the block and buy a safe box for the money.'

‘Ahem… You don't have money to buy a safe box for the money that you don't want to spend.'

I bite my lip.

‘Noted.'

‘She used a shoe box. Rain Morgan, that is. Morgan before she became a Sexton,' the voice inside my head reminds me.

‘Yeah, yeah. I remember.'

‘Then you must also remember that you don't have any shoe boxes left. You tossed them out because they occupied too much space.'

I inhale slowly.

"Thank you for reminding me that too," I mutter, steering the car right and entering my neighborhood.

‘Cool. I'm glad I can help.'

"Sure, asshole…" I say under my breath, taking another right and surveilling the neighborhood.

Everybody's asleep.

‘I heard that.'

‘I had no doubt. Now get lost.'

‘Sure. That's how you thank me, bitter call girl wannabe.'

I laugh, gripping the steering wheel and pulling the car a little farther away from my home but not too far.

‘Okay. Bye,' I toss at her.

‘Peace out. And don't do something stupid.'

With that, I'm home, and she's gone, but I'm not so sure I can follow her advice.

DAVID

"The wedding was great," James says, making a beeline for his desk.

"It sure was," I reply, sliding into one of the massive armchairs facing the wall of windows overlooking the valley.

Slowly, I unbutton my suit jacket while running my eyes over his clothes.

He looks fresh, like someone who slept in their bed.

Freshly shaved, a pressed dress shirt hugging his muscular body, suit pants outlining his athletic legs.

He shoots a glance in my direction, and something tells me he's picked up on the fact that I didn't sleep at all.

The wedding seems like an old event.

So many things have happened since I left Ed and Thea's place.

James' eyes rove over me briefly, yet he says nothing.

"Thank you for meeting me so early," he says. "I got word last night that we would sign the contract."

He claims his seat behind his desk and tips his gaze to his phone.

"Lex should be here in a few minutes."

This is what I like about this man.

He's driven and always on top of things.

He can talk and do business at any hour, and running a business empire doesn't stop him from having a life.

On the same note, enjoying his life and spending time with his family and friends have never negatively impacted his business affairs.

I'm glad our New York business deal has come through, but I was ready to travel either way.

We'll discuss a few things with Lex Harrington as he is about to take over some of my work here while I'm spending time in New York.

James' phone rings, and he picks up the call at once. It's one of our lawyers.

He puts him on speaker, and we chat for a few minutes before Lex enters James' office.

The sun shines above the horizon when we're wrapping it up, ready to leave.

I finish talking to them and walk out of James' office alone before taking the elevator down, toying with an idea.

I'll be gone for some time.

Initially, I thought I'd be back in a week, but setting up this new business endeavor might require more than a few days.

Suddenly, a trickle of uneasiness creeps up my spine.

I reach inside my pocket and scoop out my phone.

It's probably not my best idea, but I wait to exit the elevator and pull slightly to the side before making the phone call.

She doesn't answer right away.

I call the motel, and the woman at the front desk answers quickly.

She knows exactly who I am.

"She left about an hour ago," she says.

"You sure?"

"I talked to her."

"Okay. Was everything all right?"

"Couldn't be better," she says with a smile in her voice.

"Great. Thanks."

"Thank you," she says, and we end our conversation.

I call Elizabeth again.

This time I video call her.

She answers my call, but I only get a glimpse of her cheek and then her shoulder and red hair.

"Hi," she says, her phone bouncing around while she moves her hand. "Give me a second. I just got home."

My heart races a little as she wrestles with her phone.

"Need some help?"

"No, no. I'm fine. I just need to lock the car."

I'm on speaker while she slams the door shut, and I glimpse a part of her street.

"Why did you park the car so far from your place?" I ask.

"What?" she asks in the voice of someone who pretends not to know what I'm talking about.

The camera moves at a dizzying speed before she brings it up and flashes a smile at me, a cute twinkle in her eyes.

The camera is too high––I notice––and her face is tipped up to me while my stare slides over her smooth neck, sexy cleavage, and the tips of her shoes.

The woman is on fire as the camera gives me a sultry image captured from above.

She's full of life and lust for me. And the way she looks at me makes me want to go to her place and spend the weekend there, which I fully know is not possible.

I'll be flying to New York in a couple of hours.

Giddiness beams in her gaze, and I find myself smiling.

"The car, Elizabeth. Why didn't you park it in front of your place?"

"Problems," she says, looking down to hide her grin.

"Care to share?"

"I can't tell you. It's my business," she says with an alluring lightness in her voice, and since she refuses eye contact, I watch her breasts jiggle every time her fuck me heels hit the pavement.

"You want to keep it a secret," I say.

She looks up and gives me a crooked smile.

"Isn't that the whole purpose?"

I nod.

"Yes, it is. I hope you'll use it, though. I don't want you on the streets or riding the bus."

I add a hint of humor to my voice, and she laughs, carefree. I don't remember a time when I was so enthralled with a woman.

A time when I would find every facet of her existence mesmerizing.

A piece of life I would love to hold on to.

For a second there, I dive deep into my memory, searching for a moment like this.

The kind of interest a woman stirred up in me was usually limited to the physical pleasure we conjured up in bed.

Curves and lines and planes. Eyes and lips. Bodies rubbing against each other.

I was never mystified to the point where I'd gape at someone, feeding myself on each and every one of their words.

Her hair tips brush her nipples, and I'd love to have my fingers on them as well, cupping and kneading. See the wonder in her eyes and listen to the gasps and moans rolling off her lips.

I'd love to remove her jacket, peel off her dress, and bury my face between her legs.

The thought makes me grow hard, and I furtively adjust myself.

"That must be a hell of a phone call so early in the morning," a husky voice beaming with amusement says, inches away from me.

I instantly tap the End button and slide my phone into my pocket.

James' steps must've trailed the corridor for a while, yet I didn't hear a fucking thing.

I shoot my eyes to the side and watch James nearing me, his suit jacket draped over his broad shoulders, his hands tucked in his pockets.

The flames of embarrassment lick my cheeks despite looking at him with a straight face.

It's not even that he had caught me––did he see her anyway?Did he see her? Or did I give myself away by adjusting myself?

Did he hear her voice?

"Sometimes they can't help themselves," I toss at him in the most believable player voice I can muster.

"Tell me about it," he says, a grin curving his lips. "You need a ride?" he asks, and I freeze like a teenager.

He stops.

"David?"

"Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about something else."

"What time is your flight?"

"Two hours from now. No, I don't. I need to grab some things and get ready."

I tilt my head in the direction of the Casino, fully aware I make no sense.

If I was supposed to go to my hotel suite, why am I here? What am I doing here?

His stare lingers on me for a moment before he pivots to move away.

"All right. Call me if you need me," he says, and with that, he turns his back to me and walks away.

What the fuck am I doing, still standing here?

Not moving.

My eyes are trained on him until he vanishes inside the private garage and later rolls out a black Bentley before heading home.

He must go home.

The question still is… What am I doing?

I slide my hand into my pocket and retrieve my phone.

She hasn't called back. I call her, but she doesn't answer.

I'm not surprised.

Although, I am.

No, I'm not.

If I expect this girl to slobber over me, I'm in for a nasty surprise.

Yes, I see how she looks at me. I know how she feels when I bury myself in her. I know how lustful she is and full of needs and how easily I can give her pleasure.

But let's not forget what this is, and more importantly, that my reputation has become a deterrent for anyone wanting to get close to me.

What the fuck am I saying?

I stall for a few more seconds before I push my phone into my pocket, aggravated yet finally knowing what I want to do.