Chapter 9

9

L IZ

Moments earlier

What is that woman doing here?

As much as I'd love to flick my eyes over my shoulder and get a glimpse of them again, I know it's a bad idea, so I'm not doing it.

Why? Why is she here? Was she supposed to meet him here?

From what I've seen, that doesn't seem to be the case.My gut tells me he didn't know she was here.

Is he happy about it?Annoyed?I can't answer that without looking back.And I won't do it.

What a stupid turn of events.

"Have a good night, Miss," the doorman says, sliding the door open and holding it for me.

I give him a smile, fearing my voice would give me away if I uttered words.

A gust of wind slides up my legs, making me shiver.

Without stopping, I glance around the area and catch the eye of the man who helped me before.

The cute valet.

He's hesitant, and I figure it's because he thinks I've met a client. He's not that far from the truth, although a client is not what David is to me.

I wonder if I would consider him a client if he had paid me for our meetups.

I'd lie if I said I wasn't curious about how he would proceed about that.

But he wouldn't truthfully be my client, right?

We'd be doing it for fun.

He'd only be a real client if I had a list of men like him and met them for sex.

The voice giggles in my head, holding her head in her hands and looking at me reprovingly.

She's having fun, and I smile at her, although my lips don't move.

The thought makes me forget about the woman talking to David inside.

He's maybe telling her he had enough for the night.

Hopefully, he does that.

Maybe he's rescheduling her for a daytime meetup.

He said to me he would see other people as long as we weren't officially together.

‘Never assume anything, stupid girl. Never assume anything,' the voice chants in my head, and for once, I fully agree with her.

So, how does he envision this…?

Him paying for my company?An à la carte sex menu? What exactly does he have in mind?

Kinks and stuff? Toys?

Stuff I'd normally be reluctant to but perhaps say yes to if the money was right and managed to remove my guilt?

He jabs at my boundaries––this man––and wants them broken down, and then what?

He and I need to talk about this ‘I'm seeing other people' thing. And if I need to, I'll put my conditions in writing, and he needs to sign off on them for this to work for both of us.

For now, there's not much I can do other than vanish into the night, my body still warm and needy. Still wanting his touch, my hunger barely quenched.

I look at the valet intently, and the closer I get to him, the more his eyes come to life.

He straightens and looks directly at me.

A tailored waistcoat, a starched white shirt, and black pants and shoes set off his muscular frame. He might not work out but surely likes sports or outdoor activities.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asks, a bit stiff, and I can't miss the fact that he checks the lobby as if trying to get a clue about what's going on.

I use the opportunity to check the lobby myself, and a pang of jealousy hits me like a lightning bolt.

David and that woman, let's call her Pam––I don't know her real name––talk to each other not far from the reception desk.

I may not be an expert in body language, but I can spot David's tension from afar.

She, on the other hand, seems detached.

I peel my eyes away from them as the man in front of me still awaits an answer.

"I need a cab," I say.

"Oh, sure," he says. "A friend of mine will take you home."

He quickly realizes he's presumptuous.

"Oh, sorry. I should've asked you first."

I smile.

"Don't be sorry. Yes. I am going home," I say mellowly, and the shift in my tone makes him pay attention to me.

His eyes dip to my mouth, longing to slide farther down.

"How was your evening?" he asks in a different tone while showing me to one of the cabs waiting at the curb.

"It was all right. As expected."

My cryptic answer says more than a three-page essay.

He can't suppress a knowing smile, and I get all warm from his reaction.

"Well, if you happen to come back and you need a car or anything else…" he adds, pausing for a moment, "just ask for me. My name is Vale. Valentin."

"Oh, good to know," I say, smiling.

Are we flirting now?

We positively are, which somehow annihilates the edge of frustration created by the woman in the lobby.

Valentin studies me for a second.

"I'll surely think of you," I say as he opens the door for me, and I get ready to slip in. "If I happen to come back," I add, touching his forearm.

"I'm sure you will," he says and winks at me.

I breathe a chuckle, and he laughs as well.

"You know a lot about this," I say, amused, sliding into my seat. And then I'm thinking... He's probably seen a lot.

He may have even seen David.

Maybe he knows David's ways and is just being nice to one of David's women. Right?

My creative muse is going crazy now with her assumptions.

Still, it doesn't affect my mood.

He closes the door while I greet the driver and roll the window down.

Valentin looks at me and places his hand on the door.

"It was nice meeting you," he says, flashing a charming smile.

"Same here, Vale. My name is Elizabeth," I say, offering my hand.

He pushes his hand inside the car and holds mine for a moment.

"Whatever you do, take care of yourself," he says.

"I will. Thank you so much for your help."

I wish I could ask him to keep an eye on the man in the lobby, but that is not how I want to do this thing.

Still…

"Can I get your phone number?" I say, pulling mine out of my pocket. "In case I need to call you next time."

"Sure."

He puts his number in my phone.

I will never ask him to spy on David for me, but I like to have his phone number under the name I type myself.

Vale.

"Okay… All right," he says, reluctantly straightening up. "I'll see you next time."

"For sure," I murmur and almost blow him a kiss.

The moment is hard for both of us and while he steps back, I let the window slide up, my head filled with conflicting thoughts.

LIZ

How weird life can be sometimes.

You get nothing for months and lose yourself so easily in the routines of daily life. And then your sanity is tested by bad people. And the moment you feel attracted to someone, life says… ‘But look who we have over here.'

Seriously?

I smile to myself.

And if tomorrow, David goes poof, and I call this guy, Vale, to just hang out, do you know what will happen?

I'll find out he has a girlfriend or an ex who'd like to get back together with him.

I laugh.

Life has a way of screwing things up, permanently testing your patience and resilience while baiting you incessantly.

Even if I had both men and none of that crap happened, they'd still not be ‘My Man' in the end.

It's better to write about this stuff, then think about it in real life terms.

At least he took my mind off David and his lady friend tonight.

Life is complicated with these men, and getting their attention even for a second is so addictive.

"You can drop me off over there," I say as the driver veers into my neighborhood.

He pulls his car to a stop, and I pay with my phone and walk out before he moves away.

The night air kisses my face, and I'm stuck in a moment of reflection as I try to envision how my life would look if I started from scratch.

If there were no memories.

No David.

No failed relationships in the past.

What if life was good, and Chloe was here?And my book was half-written?

What if my book was complete and had half of Rain's book's success?

For a moment, the clicking of my heels against the sidewalk fades as I slow down and think about it.

Yeah… What would my life look like?

How would it be?

Would I finish school?

Take a gap year?

Move out of Colorado?

Try to live in a quaint beach town?

Will I still meet David in secret?

Or would I be single again?

Would I look for someone like Vale to hang out with, spend time at the beach, watch the sunset from the porch, and drink margaritas and ice tea before making love in a room littered with fairy lights, not getting enough of him?

I stop completely.

What am I saying?

Would having success with my book allow me to think seriously about my life?

Would it allow me to no longer wing it and feel stuck in a swamp of indecisiveness.

Has the money been the problem all along?

Is that what it is?

Is that the hurdle?

And did I need this mental exercise to reach a rather simple conclusion?

It's not that Thea's life is intimidating or making me feel inadequate.

Things are simpler than that.

I'd love a simple, satisfying life with a man equally invested in living that kind of soft, nurturing, peaceful existence.

Frankly, I don't want to be Rain or Thea. Not even Chloe.

If Chloe were a car, she'd come with a six-speed manual transmission and go from zero to one hundred in two seconds.

I am not wired like that, hence my struggle. Things have gotten so confusing these past few months.

So much chasing shiny objects.

So many options popped up, although none of them were real answers to my existential doom and gloom.

And now, this trivial exercise gives me a better insight into my life than anything else.

But there's a problem.

Money.

Money is still a problem.

I don't have a finished book.

And there are no guarantees a finished book would be as successful as hers was.

I take a deep breath of air.

Maybe living in a beach town has never been my dream.

It was Rain's, and she exchanged it for a life in Colorado as the uncrowned queen of this town.

I bet she doesn't regret it for a second. She has a wonderful husband and a beautiful daughter. She seems so grateful for what she's gotten, and I've never seen her upset, not once since I met her.

My dream was more modest, but even so, something was missing. How amazing my life would be if a slight change happened.

I shift in the middle of the sidewalk and look at my place.

Sunk in darkness, it has no say in this.

I go farther with my imagination, much farther, and come up with a makeover of this place.

I imagine it being mine, adorned with lights, the front lawn littered with Halloween decorations. Goblins, pumpkins, giant spiders, skeletons, and ghosts.

The kitchen window would give me a glimpse into a warm, cozy space. Someone would be home. Or I would be home, waiting for someone.

And then we'd be together, chatting around the table and drinking wine, tea, or coffee.

We'd eat cookies or some freshly cooked food.

We'd have a dog, a cat, or a bunny.

Or maybe nothing just yet.

Maybe he'd hold my hand and invite me into the bedroom, and some old music would play in the house, and he'd light candles while I would fuss over some minor thing, like what lingerie to wear.

His kisses would be warm and trustful, and I'd get quickly in the mood. And when he had me, there would be no second guessing, and no tension or unresolved issues.

We'd go from that to maybe dancing and kissing again, unstoppable, still thirsty.

And later, we'd go to sleep and do it without worry, knowing that our life together has continuity.

I look up and down the street, biting my lip and trying to push down the lump in my throat.

This can be such a rollercoaster.

Throughout the evening, my emotions swayed from giddiness to satisfaction to letdown to amusement, and now this?

Suddenly shivering with cold, I step in the direction of my house.

It's still dark, not warm or cozy, and not ready for a story like that.

It speaks of loneliness and dullness. The least I could do about it is decorate this space for Halloween.

I unlock the door and push inside.

Moments later, I close and lock the door, slide off my heels, clean them, and take them to the closet before shrugging off my jacket and glancing in the mirror.

Red patches mar my skin.

The traces of his touch are the only proof this evening happened.

Mechanically I pick up my robe and move to the bathroom.I shower, step out, and pat myself dry before tossing my fluffy, oversized robe on.

That hotel was nice, I muse, heading to the kitchen.

My place is cold. but I don't bother to adjust the thermostat.

I make myself a cup of tea and scour the fridge for cold cuts and cheese to make a sandwich.

I eat, standing, my sandwich clutched in one hand, and my phone gripped in the other.

I run a quick search online to learn more about the Blue Candlelight hotel.

One thing leads to another, and more information surfaces.

"What?" I murmur around my food. "What the fuck?"

I put the sandwich down and read the information.

The hotel is part of the Sexton Business Empire.

Should I be surprised? No.

But didn't he say he'd take me someplace else? Anything but his hotel?

This is his hotel. He is James' business partner.

And that suite is his hotel suite.

How much anonymity can that place offer? Not much.

Everybody knows him in that hotel.

He's their boss, for fuck's sake.

I can't believe it.

How many other hotel suites where he meets women are there?

And how much longer can this be a secret if he doesn't put much effort into keeping it a secret?

No wonder that woman was roaming around, looking for him. And who knows how many others are after him.

And then, Vale.

Oh, my… I can't believe it.

David is Vale's Boss.

Vale must know so much about David and his private life.

I finally swallow my food, put the rest on a plate, and slide it into the refrigerator before taking a long breath.

Why am I so worked up anyway?

We know what this is. We're having fun. That's it.

We have decided to keep it a secret precisely because of so many unforeseeable consequences.

Which is the right thing to do.

Will we see other people on the side?

I, for one, do not intend to sleep with two men at the same time. It messes with my head. And I won't accept that from him either. Sleeping with another woman.

He can go out, whatever. Have someone as a fake date, but the moment we are in a triangle of any sort, I'm out because, again, it screws with my head.

This will be some short fun. That's it. And we will remain friends.

Hopefully.