by Melissa Jane
“Not that way,” I blush. Although, that could also be true. “Why would he say such a thing?”
“Is Shawn a good man?” he asks, stabbing a green olive with a toothpick before sliding it off into his wicked mouth.
“As far as I know.” Or… at least I thought I knew.
“Do you think you know everything there is to do with your husband?”
He never told me about leaving his job... a year ago.
Or that he secretively drained our joint bank account.
So, yeah, that will be a big fat no.
“I like to think I do,” I lie to save the scrutiny.
“But you don’t know with a hundred percent certainty that you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be sitting here with me right now. Beware of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Blythe, because he will pack one hell of a bite.”
What’s that supposed to mean?
That’s an extremely bold statement to make.
So, I question their relationship. “How well do you know Shawn?”
Surprisingly, Kane doesn’t shy away from answering. “I’ve known Shawn Cooper for a very long time. Since senior year in high school. And in that same amount of time, we’ve always been competitive… some would call us rivals even.”
“Why?”
“Because I have everything Shawn wants but can never get.”
I’m conflicted. I want to defend my estranged husband, but there’s a reason he’s estranged. Because he isn’t happy with what he has and wants what I can’t give him.
“And you?” I ask with a lump in my throat.
He leans forward once more, face hardening, causing my heart to race at a painful speed.
“I have everything I need, but he has the one thing I want.”
I feel a headiness take over, heat rising from within. His eyes fall to my chest, milky skin now blushed with pink. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip before he leans back, a tattooed finger nonchalantly tapping his lips.
My cell chimes a muffled tune from my clutch. I ignore it, but I’m grateful it’s pulled my focus from Kane’s penetrating stare. I sip my champagne but end up draining three-quarters of the glass. My cell chimes again and then twice more.
Kane’s stare falls to my clutch, and I move to silence my cell. Before I do, I see Amanda has sent me a string of messages.
“I’m sorry, it’s work. I—”
“Answer it, it’s fine,” Kane says, taking the time to watch me.
I open her messages and a shiver courses through my body.
AMANDA: Oh, gurl. You in big trouble.
AMANDA: The good kind of trouble.
AMANDA: At least, I hope so anyway, otherwise not even I can save you.
AMANDA: Original Red Riding Hood—The Big Bad Wolf orders Red to strip NAKED and climb into bed with him. He then EATS her alive!!
AMANDA: That’s some kinky shit right there.
HOLY SHIT.
I make the mistake of meeting Kane’s piercing stare, a fleeting moment which is already too long.
“Everything okay?” his low voice rumbles.
Ah… nope. No, things are definitely not okay.
“Fine,” I lie once more. For someone who hates liars, I’m becoming incredibly skilled at it. Silencing my cell, I slip it back into my clutch and take a deep, steadying breath. “No more interruptions, promise.”
“Your hands are shaking.”
A nervous giggle takes me by surprise and the corners of his lips turn the slightest degree. He seems amused by me, although I can’t think why. Firstly, I’m stalling on giving him an answer to his project because I simply don’t know if I can meet his expectations given the restraints, and he has the luxury of choosing any interior designer money can buy. Secondly, I’m clearly not his type. This man belongs with glamorous supermodels who are as otherworldly beautiful as he is.
So, why is he so persistent?
“So, what were we talking about?” I ask, aiming to take the focus off me, only to have it put straight back on me.
“Indulgence. Wanting something that isn’t yours… yet.”
Damn it. He is the original sin. Every damn bit of him.
I inhale sharply. “What’s to say that the particular something wants the same thing.”
This time his smile reaches his eyes, his index finger tapping his cheek in a well-timed beat. “Are you telling me otherwise?”
Am I?
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“I never shy away from a challenge, Blythe.”
I swallow hard as his eyes ravage me. They’re all sex—passionate, explosive, powerful sex. The kind which would have me on my hands and knees unable to stand for days. The kind that would have me whimpering no more, but begging for him not to stop. The kind I so desperately need after a year’s drought. The kind Kane Alexander is so willing to give.
“THANK YOU,” I start, the street lamp coating us both in a golden glow. “Dinner was wonderful. And that restaurant is mind-blowingly beautiful. I had no idea it even existed, and I know this city pretty well.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Blythe. And I agree. Some of the best places are the best-kept secrets.”
“Speaking of secrets,” I say, walking to the building entry. My palms grow sweaty, and I hope the exquisite champagne isn’t influencing my decision.
“Evening, Mr. Alexander. Ms. Blakely.” Gerry, the doorman tips his hat, and I greet him in turn before turning my full attention to Kane who’s expertly feigning indifference.
“You are shameless!” I state, unable to hide my amusement. “You now have Gerry using my maiden name?”
He shrugs as we enter the lift, dark, devious eyes meeting mine. “I told you, Cooper doesn’t suit you.” His eyes linger on mine too long, those same salacious thoughts passing between us.
The man is like a fucking wizard. A sexy one. One whose main spell is to have you open your legs and be screaming his name.
“As you were saying about secrets?” he prompts.
“Um… yes… well, I’ve given it some thought, and while I’m still apprehensive about the whole approach, I’ve decided to take on the project but on one condition.”
The elevator doors open and he follows me down the hall to my apartment. I pull out my swipe card but don’t scan it. I face Kane who towers at least a foot above me.
“And what would that be?”
“You can’t leave me floundering. I’m going in blind with this, and it’s a big gamble for my business to take on something so large-scale yet so mysterious. My business in my baby, so if you see I’m heading in the wrong direction, don’t let me flounder. You may have to guide me through, and perhaps even reveal a little more about your mystery establishment and trust me.”
He considers my words, not once breaking his hold. I can see he’s happy with my response. After all, the man’s gotten his way, just as he said he would.
“Blythe, you’re not capable of floundering… over anything. But I promise your gamble will pay off.”
While a heavy weight lifts off my shoulders, I still have a fleeting thought that I hope I won’t live to regret my decision.
Kane holds out his large hand. “So, we have a deal?”
If this is what it feels like to make a deal with the devil.
I take his hand which engulfs mine, and I feel the spark pass between us. I know he feels it too, the need to explore my body the same way I want to his. “Deal,” I murmur because that’s all I can manage.
Kane turns my hand, lifts it to his lips and gently kisses while locking eyes to mine. A shiver of delight courses through my body, the same feeling I imagine his lips would give when trailing kisses.
Lowering my hand, Kane steps away, his eyes hooded with a lust I too share for him.
“Welcome to my world, Blythe Blakley.”
“WELL, he didn’t eat you alive,” Amanda states, rather disappointed. She leans against the doorframe with her arms folded.
I glance from my laptop. “I don’t
know what you mean by that. And I’m not sure I want to know.”
She scoffs and makes her way in, taking a seat on the sofa. “Don’t play little miss innocent with me. You’re missing the morning-after glow I expected you to have.”
Taking off my glasses, I laugh at her presumption. “Amanda, I went to a business dinner, not a Tinder hook-up.”
Despite her evident disappointment, there’s a glimmer of hope. “Well, was there any flirting?”
“Maybe.”
She leans forward expectantly. “Who did the flirting?”
“Him, of course.” She raises a perfectly shaped brow. “And maybe a little bit me.”
“So, no sex?”
“No, not even a kiss. Kane was the perfect gentleman.”
She sighs, resigned to the fact that today there will be no juicy details. “Okay, so… what did you discuss about his project?”
I lean back in my chair and cross one leg over the other. “We’re going to do it.”
Her eyes widen. “Did he reveal more about it or tell you why he’s keeping it so secret?”
I shake my head, wishing my answer could be different. “He didn’t give me an inch. But I’m going to need you to set up a meeting with a…” I look to the circled name on the paperwork, “… with Kane’s second in charge, Joseph.”
“Consider it done. But wait one sec… so, you agreed to the project based on the same conditions set at the beginning?”
“That’s right.”
She laughs. “He must have worked you over real good.”
THE CLOCK on the dash turns 6:10, and as expected, Samantha exits the gym after her habitual HIIT session. With her gym bag slung over one shoulder, she’s busy texting and unaware I’m watching from across the road.
“Always glued to your cell but can’t spare a second to call your sister back,” I grumble.
Samantha crosses the parking lot, unlocks her BMW—a car well beyond her budget—and in a matter of seconds, she’s starting the engine and pulling out of the lot.
“Shit,” I mutter, accidentally hitting the high beam instead of the indicator. The light flashes Samantha in the eyes as she looks up the road checking for traffic. She squints against the glare, but I sink far enough down in my seat that she won’t see me.
“Damn German-made cars,” I curse, having to remember the indicators and lights are on the opposite sides. Peering over the dash, I see the tail end of Samantha’s car as she cruises down the street. Quickly pulling out, to the disapproval of the motorist next to me, I follow Samantha through the busy peak-hour streets. She drives in typical Samantha fashion, unnecessarily weaving in and out of traffic.
“You’re a mad woman, sister,” I murmur, then sigh in relief as she turns down a quiet suburban street. Pressing the brakes, I allow Samantha to put some distance between us. Although it’s dark, I can’t have her catching me. She slows and eventually pulls into a drive, turns off the engine and runs up the porch steps, disappearing inside. I park two houses away and take in my surroundings.
This is an affluent street, a far cry from where she last resided.
“What the hell do you do, Sammy?” I ask nobody.
Climbing out of the car, I remind myself to not look so purposefully stalkerish. No lights shine from the house next door, telling me the occupants aren’t yet home from work. A tall, wooden fence separates the properties, and I sidle up against it, sinking down beside the living room window where I see Samantha organizing her handbag for the night.
Unlocking my cell, I go to recents and hit Samantha’s name. Pressing the volume control to quieten the ringing on my end, so I hear it through the window, I watch as Samantha retrieves her cell, looks at the screen, carefully reads my name before placing it on the side table, happily resuming her packing.
“What the actual fuck, Samantha?”
Her behavior is growing more irritating, however, I know this isn’t her. Something’s going on where she doesn’t feel comfortable with confiding in me.
But what could have her so distant that she can’t even speak to her own sister?
I quickly type a message.
ME: Are you ignoring me on purpose?
AGAIN, she picks up the cell, reads the message and places it back on the table without replying. It takes all the strength I have not to stand up and yell through the window, ‘Answer your fucking phone,’ because her behavior is causing me to now be doing things I’m not proud of, like becoming a peeping Tom.
My skin prickles with a sense of being watched. Scanning down the dark front yard, I’d be lucky to be seen by neighbors from across the road, yet without a doubt, there’s a pair of eyes watching my every move. I decide there’s nothing I can do about it if I can’t see them, and I’m unlikely to blow my cover just to catch them out.
Samantha pulls her top up and over her head and disappears down the hall. Knowing she’s heading for the shower, I lean against the fence, contemplating my next move. I can’t likely wait for her to leave without already being in my car. I need to be prepared and leave unseen, ready to pull out as she drives past.
There’s a strange rustle behind me, followed by a snuffling-type snort. Shifting to the right, I turn and look through a gap in the fence. Nothing unusual stands out. There are still no lights on in the neighbor’s residence, but I’m shaken when a giant black-and-brown snout pokes through the gap of a dislodged panel. The beast of a dog has its teeth bared, saliva drooling in thick curtains.
“Shit!” I scoot away quickly as it disappears for a heartbeat and then comes back at full force, now able to squeeze up to its ears through the gap. It looks wonky, skewed on a strange angle, one large judgmental eye staring curiously up at me. “What are you looking at? Go back to your own side, you nosey mutt,” I hiss, wishing it would allow me to resume my stalking in peace. Surprisingly, the beast listens, the panel grinding back in place with a clunk. When my heart rate settles, and the dog seems to have disappeared somewhere within its own yard, I resume my stakeout peering through the window.
There’s still no sign of Samantha.
Lost in thought, I wonder what this all means.
Why Sam feels the need to be so secretive.
Why my husband’s become a distant ghost in our relationship.
Are the two connected in some way?
How could the two people I love the most become strangers?
My thoughts are brutally interrupted when I’m catapulted forward in fear, colliding with the weatherboard house. The satanic dog behind the fence releases a booming bark that seems to echo throughout the entire, otherwise peaceful neighborhood. An unrelenting bark that screams ‘intruder!’ With my heart painfully pounding against my ribcage, I consider fleeing.
“Sshh!” I whisper harshly. “Shut up.”
The beast is unrelenting and goes between noisy ruckus to trying to squeeze its snarling face back through the fence.
“For fuck’s sake…” I curse while searching through my handbag. If I don’t want the police called on my sorry, snooping ass, I need to make nice with the beast. I struggle seeing the contents of my bag, but once my fingers feel the metallic wrapper, I know I’m in luck. Unwrapping a peanut butter protein bar, I toss it toward the beast, whose large eye looks from it to me before practically inhaling the treat. The bribe works and the beast seems somewhat sold on the idea of letting me stay.
“What?” I ask quietly, when it remains wedged in the fence. While now quiet, the beast’s stare is unwavering, and I detect a threat his tantrum will resume any second if I don’t do something. “Fine,” I concede, digging through my bag once more. “This is all I have left.” Unwrapping a second peanut butter protein bar, I swear I see the beast smiling seconds before I toss it over.
Again, he inhales it, and for a fleeting moment I worry that by not chewing its food, the mutt will become constipated. Appeased and happy, the beast remains wedged in the fence but seems to lie down.
“You just gonna stay there and watch
like a creeper, too?” He glances up at me before sighing, content in remaining where he is. “Fine, but we have a deal, so I hope you’re a dog of your word.”
I resume my spot against the fence, the beast’s face happily by my side as I watch for Samantha.
“What’s going on, Beast?” I ask, knowing full well I must be losing the plot. “What’s she up to?”
Another twenty minutes pass before Sam finally re-enters the living room, heels in hand. She’s wearing a striking deep-red mini dress with thick strands of jewels around her neck. Her hair is elegantly curled and makeup applied to perfection.
“That’s what she wears to work?” I ask Beast, surprised at how amazing my sister looks for a night of work. When she sits on the sofa to put on her heels, it’s my cue to leave. “It’s show time,” I say to my new four-legged accomplice in a goodbye. I bribed him with peanut butter protein bars to keep his tattle-tale mouth shut, and now that I’m leaving, he looks at me as if I’m ripping out his poor heart.
Patting his nose quickly, I stick to the shadows like a well-trained ninja and run to the car. I’m already inside when I see Samantha on the porch locking the door behind her. A Mercedes, identical to the one we’d both ridden in only days earlier, pulls to the curb. She saunters down the steps, and seconds later, she’s closing the car door as it pulls away. Once Samantha’s far enough away, I start Amanda’s car and follow my sister back through to the city.
Twenty-five minutes later, the Mercedes pulls down a main street lined with lavish buildings of sandstone and columns. It’s outside the business district and more a playground for the rich and famous prepared to spend in just a few hours what it could take the average person half a year to make. I’m not surprised Sam is dressed as a runway model—glamorous and sexy—any different and she’d be the odd one out in such a street… like me. I glance down at my pantsuit, and while it’s designer it simply won’t cut it.
There are many things Samantha could be employed as in this particular street. She’s a strikingly beautiful girl and can host any front of house well. But front of house never typically comes with such perks.
The Merc slows and indicates before turning in to the curb.
