by Melissa Jane
“This is beautiful,” I say, admiring the high ceilings with elaborate cornices. The natural city light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and it has the added benefit of privacy. I can rest assured that leaving the blinds open at night won’t invite prying eyes.
“This place won’t be on the market long, so a quick decision would be ideal,” Janet, my realtor says. I’m sure she says that to seal all deals, but this one will definitely be snapped up if I don’t stick my foot in the door.
“Lucky you rang me, and even luckier I answered. This is so different to the ones we looked at last week. Are you sure it’s in my price range?”
“Quite positive.”
I’m unsure how it could possibly be the case. Perhaps the owners are in urgent need of funds and are happy to drop the rental price.
Opening the French bi-folds, I step onto the balcony, the cool winter’s breeze caressing my face. It would be quite a change going from a suburban house to an inner-city apartment on the twentieth floor, but a place like this could surely have me settling in quickly so I can focus on buying again when the divorce is finalized.
“Should we make a time for your husband to view the property?” Janet asks.
I shake my head. “No need, we’re separated, hence why I’m here with you.”
I wonder how many times I can say ‘separated’ until it won’t hurt anymore.
Fear flashes across her amber eyes before she quickly perks up. “Well then, you’re in the right spot. There are plenty of bars in Manhattan, so one thing’s for sure, you won’t be shy of a good time.”
“Thanks, but—”
I’m cut off when my cell beeps, its sound bouncing off the walls in the empty room.
“Hmm,” I mutter, forgetting I’m not alone.
Shawn’s ears must be burning.
Opening the text, I read the four words he should have said a year ago.
WE NEED TO TALK.
I LEAVE Janet so she can organize the paperwork and drive back to the house where Shawn waits in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, arms folded tightly across his chest.
“You’re home,” I say, weakly pointing out the obvious.
His jaw twitches, and I feel his icy demeanor. “Why are there boxes full of your belongings lining the hall?”
Is he serious?
“Shawn, what part of me saying I’m leaving do you not understand? I pleaded with you not to go on the business trip and you treated me like an insolent child. I told you we needed to work this out and you walked out on us. That’s why there are boxes full of my belongings lining the hall.”
“And I told you we’d work it out when I got home.”
“I’m sick of waiting, Shawn. You checked out of this marriage a year ago, so don’t imply I’m walking out on us, because we both know that’s not the case.”
“I need you to be patient, Blythe. I needed—”
“Patient about what? You’ve never once even hinted about why I need to be patient.”
Shawn’s nostrils flare, his own patience running thin.
“Are you having an affair, Shawn?” I ask with a force that surprises me. When he doesn’t answer straight away, I continue, “Is this what it’s all about? Have you been fucking someone else this whole time and you’re simply waiting to see if it works out between you two before you finally send me packing?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scolds, looking disgusted at the mere mention of the word.
“It’s an easy conclusion to come to when you haven’t so much as looked at me in three hundred and sixty-five days. We went from having crazy sex every day to not even kissing. It happened literally overnight, Shawn, so you tell me again why I shouldn’t jump to those natural conclusions.”
“Because you’re my wife,” he seethes.
“That means shit. You’ve proven that much already.”
“Says my wife who’s seen at a club getting extremely personal with Kane Alexander.”
I recoil like he’s slapped me. “I don’t even care how you came to find that out, but it certainly wasn’t done in secret or to deceive. Samantha actually took me there as a way to cheer me up because, if you haven’t noticed, our marriage has reached crisis point, and Kane just happened to be there later on.”
“You danced with him?”
“Yeah, I did, while we discussed work.”
“You let him put his hands on you?”
“Jesus, Shawn, why are you being so petty?” I snap. “Why are you making it sound like I’ve done something illicit? I’ve danced with plenty of guys before, while you watched, and it was never a problem. So why now? Or is this a way to deflect off you and what you’ve done?”
He steps forward until his warm breath hits my face. “Unlike you, I can actually say with a hundred percent certainty that I have not cheated on our marriage.”
I inch that much closer, refusing to back down. “How dare you insinuate that I have. And for the record, neither have I.”
When his eyes narrow and a small smirk plays on his lips, I swivel on my heel and take to the stairs. I hear Shawn following me, and when I reach the top, I turn on him, but not before he has me against the wall, his broad shoulders engulfing me. With his body against mine, groin against groin, familiar feelings of desire flood back. I see it in his eyes too, as they become hooded, watching my chest rise and fall heavily. He pins my hands above my head, and the harder I pull against him, the firmer his grip becomes.
“You may think this is all a joke, Blythe. A way of getting back at me for whatever you think it is I’ve done, but when I say stay away from Kane Alexander, I fucking well mean it.”
I turn my head because if I look at him a second longer, my knee will meet his dick. Having none of it, he grips my chin and holds me still, one hand now wrapped around both wrists.
“You’re entering a very cruel, twisted game, Blythe. And the further you fall, the harder it will be for me to pull you out.”
“Firstly, I don’t understand what the hell you’re going on about with words like cruel and twisted. Secondly, I’m not entering anything. Kane simply wants to use me for business, nothing else.”
“Bullshit.”
“And thirdly, I don’t need you to save me from anything. You’ve already proven to be unreliable in that department, so save your obnoxious warnings because they mean shit to me.”
He squeezes his fingers tighter causing me to wince in pain. “If you let that man in your life, he will fuck you over and spit you out. He’ll humiliate you. He’ll crush you. And he’ll do it with a smile. You are my wife, and you will listen to me.”
“Don’t try that macho bullshit on me, Shawn. I’m not going to be a pawn in whatever game either of you have going on. And as far as being your wife goes, I actually need a husband for me to be considered a wife.”
A low growl reverberates in his throat, his rock-hard cock pressing against me.
“Is that because you want to fuck your wife, or does getting heavy-handed simply turn you on?”
Shawn pulls away, releasing me from his hold. “I’d never hit you.”
I rub my wrists and step away from the wall. “We’re done, Shawn,” I say evenly, although it feels like someone is taking an ax to my heart.
“Stay away from him, Blythe,” he warns once more.
“I’m not interested in your jealousy. So, stay out of my business.”
“Remember what I said,” he reiterates, ensuring I hear him loud and clear. “The further you fall, the harder it will be for me to pull you out.”
7
I drop the first of many boxes on the hardwood floors to keep the door open to my new apartment. It’s a bittersweet moment as I walk across the empty living room to the French doors. Staring out at the river view, a single tear slips down my cheek. This apartment represents a door slamming closed on my most important relationship to date, and opening to a new-found independence where I get to call all the shots.
I look
over the balcony, the cool breeze tingling my skin. The delivery truck lost me in the traffic and still has yet to find its way. I’ve canceled all meetings for two days while I move everything I can from the house to the apartment. Shawn left our marital home the same night after our argument. His silence speaks volumes, and if or when he returns home, he will finally see I’m no longer willing to play his games.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a familiar voice sounds from behind, and I turn, startled at the unexpected intrusion.
“Kane… Jesus, you scared me,” I say, clutching the railing to steady my nerves.
The corners of his lips turn slightly, his eyes alight as they travel over my body, following every curve my black gym tights have to offer. He’s a lion preparing for a feast, and I feel a heat between my legs at the thought of being ravaged by him.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, but the door was open.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. My mind was elsewhere.”
For a moment, I study him, then wonder why he’s standing in front of me. “How did you find me, Kane?” I haven’t given out this address to anyone, not even to Amanda or Samantha.
“The building’s manifest of new tenants updated, and needless to say I was surprised when your name appeared.”
I’m confused. “The buildings manifest?”
“Yeah… it’s a list of names who—”
“I know what a manifest is. I’m more interested in how you came about it. Are you on the HOA?”
His eyes dart to the side then back to me. “In a manner of speaking.” When I wait for further explanation, he continues, his smile reaching his dark eyes, “I um…” he moves his index finger in a circle, “this is my building.”
I choke, breaking composure. “What do you mean, this is your building? As in, you live here, too?” While this is a beautiful apartment building, I always imaged Kane Alexander living somewhere way more grandiose.
He laughs lightly and it does things to me, things which aren’t completely unwelcome. “As in, I own this building.”
Of course, he does.
Overwhelmed and slightly intimidated, I want to shrink away but can’t unless I fancy jumping off the balcony and landing on the roof of his Lamborghini.
What the fuck have I done?
What. The. Fuck.
“Shit…” is all I manage. “Because, of course, you would own a high-rise building. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”
He laughs and it’s the sexiest, thigh-clenching sound I’ve heard in a very long time.
Kane pulls his hand from behind his back revealing a bottle of champagne. “For you,” he says, handing me a bottle of Dom Perignon. “Consider it a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.” He pauses a moment, eyes penetrating mine, tongue moistening his lips. “Perhaps you and Shawn can enjoy it later tonight.”
My blood runs cold. I suppose this is the first of many occasions I’ll be announcing our separation. Not that it’s anyone’s business. “Or just me,” I reply with a nervous laugh. “Shawn isn’t moving in.”
Kane raises his brows for a fleeting moment, and I see a glimpse of something I don’t recognize, before he chooses his words carefully. “I’m sorry to hear that, Blythe.” While his tone sounds sincere, his eyes tell a different story.
“Are you?” I challenge.
“Of course. A strong woman like you needs a strong man next to her… or behind her… depending on your preference.” There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes, and heat blushes my cheeks at the thought of Kane Alexander behind me in the throes of action.
“I know I certainly don’t mind a woman in front of me.”
Oh, sweet Jesus.
“I’m sure you have plenty of women wanting to be in that… position.”
“Plenty doesn’t equal quality, Blythe.”
Kane’s smile is disarming. He’s getting to me and he knows it.
“Are we still talking about in life, or… other things?”
“Both, but I know my prerogative.”
“Ma’am,” an unfamiliar voice calls, breaking the spell. “Where do you want these?”
Reluctantly, I turn to the removalist standing in the living room holding two boxes, his face red and beading with sweat.
“Um… just… anywhere… just there is fine,” I stammer, still feeling Kane’s intensity. He chuckles, amused at how his words have affected me. With a huff, the removalist lowers the boxes to the floor and leaves for his next load. Kane steps backward to the door, his gaze still trained intently on mine.
“A triple threat, that’s what you are.”
What does he mean by that?
“I’m sorry to disappoint but singing and acting aren’t my thing.”
Kane laughs revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. “Intelligent, witty, and sexy as all fuck.”
My body and mouth are rendered useless. Kane Alexander is playing all the right chords and I’m letting him. Why? Because his words are what make my body hum. His tone is what sends shivers of delight through to my soul. And his midnight-sky eyes strip me bare, failing to disguise his deliciously wicked thoughts.
He stands in the threshold and says one last thing, “We’d make a good team, Blythe. In and outside the bedroom,” before he disappears as quick as he came.
“HE SAID WHAT?” Amanda’s eyes bulge as we walk through the warehouse compiling ideas for a hotel bar and restaurant. I pick up a swatch bundle and flick through the fabric choices.
“He said it so easily, completely unfazed and so sure of the situation. He’s so… confident.”
Amanda raises her brows in question. “Do you think he’s a player?”
“It certainly wouldn’t surprise me. How could a man like that not be?”
“Well…” she says, holding two patterns next to each other for comparison, “the man barely looks at me when he comes in. Not typical player behavior, who have eyes everywhere.”
She’s right. Amanda is stunning. If the man is a player, he would surely go for her… or at least flirt, but since he doesn’t, it leads me to believe perhaps he’s as genuine as he says he is.
My cell chimes with an incoming email.
“His ears must be burning,” Amanda says, eyeing my screen.
“The man’s intuition is second to none.”
My heart skips a few beats when I read his invitation, or should I say, demand.
BLYTHE,
Dinner with me, tomorrow night. Don’t overanalyze it. Be like Little Red.
Yours,
Kane
I BITE my lip to stop the smile. My stomach fills with butterflies, nervous and full of trepidation.
Am I in the right frame of mind to be having dinner with him?
Is this business or pleasure?
My fingers start typing before I can gauge whether I’m making the right decision.
DEAR KANE,
Which version of Red?
Regards,
Blythe
A HEARTBEAT PASSES before I get my reply.
THE ORIGINAL.
NOW I’M LEFT to wonder if original Red is an ideal role model. Or if her poor, naïve decisions saw her eaten alive.
“PICK UP THE PHONE, SAM,” I chant, mentally channeling my sister who appears to be MIA.
“You’ve reached Samantha, leave a message if you can be bothered.”
“Sam, can you just call me so I know you’re okay? I’ve called a few times now. And hey, I’ll text you my new address. Come over after work.” I end the call and tap the cell against my palm, lost in thought. It’s unlike Sam not to have her cell at the ready. It’s often my biggest complaint that she always has her nose glued to the screen and isn’t paying attention to the now. Yet, since starting her new job, she’s almost impossible to get a hold of.
I sit back in my chair, my eyes moving between my computer screen with Kane’s mystery plans still awaiting a response, to the photo frame sitting on a shelf across the room with Shawn’s face staring back
at me. It’s of our wedding day, the sun shining brightly behind us, the genuine smiles on our faces failing to disguise the excitement we felt for our future together. In all honesty, with everything that’s gone on, I’d totally forgotten it’s there. Tears brim, and I can’t determine if it’s because of the deep sadness I’ve become an expert at compartmentalizing, or whether that’s given way to anger and frustration.
I twist my wedding and engagement ring around my finger, rings I know I shouldn’t still be wearing. Removing them feels so… final. I haven’t taken them off since the days he put them on, and now here I sit, chiding myself about removing them.
Why? We’re over.
Is there even anything to save?
I pull off the wedding ring, smiling as I remember his vows.
“You are the Cher to my Sonny, Priscilla to my Elvis, and Bonnie to my Clyde.” He’d said it referencing our favorite musicians and movie characters. Back when we didn’t have a care in the world, before the world would show us just how tough it could be. Young and stupid. Stupidly in love. “I promise to continue making your friends jealous of our amazing relationship.” And they were, to the point where they always knew where there was one, the other would be close behind, if not already by their side. But now the joke’s on us.
I slide my beautiful engagement ring off, a perfect marquise-cut pink diamond, and recall the exact moment he fell to bended knee and proposed.
IT WAS at basement comedy night. Gary, our close friend, frequented the stage there because as long as we could remember, he was always coming up with new twisted tales he could spin into a comedy routine. He was hilarious and gifted, yet content to stick it out at the local basement comedy club. One afternoon during a barbecue in our backyard, Gary and Shawn drunkenly joked about Shawn taking to the stage, my boyfriend pretending he could do it better than the professional and that he was loaded with ‘arsenal’ he could use. When Gary laughed and said Shawn could succeed in putting the ass in arsenal, the deal had been sealed with a handshake. Shawn would have a week to prepare his routine.
During the lead-up, I teased Shawn that deals made under the influence of alcohol, don’t stand up in court and that he could back out of it to save the humiliation. I loved my boyfriend, and he was many fine things and could have me laughing at his jokes, but he wasn’t a comedian who could pull off a routine in front of a hundred-deep expectant audience. But he maintained his position. A dare is a dare, Blythe, and I’m a man of my word.
