Bound for Nirvana

by Kendra Leigh

  We escaped through the club as surreptitiously as we could manage, considering our tousled, rain-drenched state, avoiding the rest of the group entirely. Damon made our excuses and promised to see Natasha home safely while Jackson whisked us off into the night without question, but with a barely contained grin. Ethan held me tightly in his lap, his arms engulfing me protectively for the whole of the journey, insisting on carrying me from the vehicle to the elevator and up to our home in the sky. After filling the tub, we soaked in the hot water until our bones thawed and feeling returned to our limbs. We soaped each other down, all the time exchanging gentle, reassuring words and tender kisses, until our worries and misgivings were finally washed away.

  By the time we finally snuggled up in our huge bed, my back nestled into the comfort of his strong embrace, I was inhumanly tired.

  Ethan inhaled the top of my head and sighed contentedly. “You’re a dirty, dirty girl, Cinderella,” he whispered.

  “I know,” I murmured sleepily. “It’s all because of you.”

  Chapter Eight

  I threw the last bits of my stuff in the weekend bag and dragged the zipper around to secure it. What I really wanted to do was put it all back in the closet and heave in a much needed sigh of relief. The knot of nerves in my stomach was as tight as a fist, and my chest had that heavy, familiar ache of anxiety. I knew it was futile, but I raised a hand to rub at the pain, anyway. It was habit.

  “Ready?” Ethan asked cautiously from the bedroom doorway.

  Ethan’s parents, Richard and Veronica Wilde, had arrived home safely yesterday, and very shortly, I would be on my way to meet them for the very first time.

  “If I said no?” I asked, silently praying he would show some mercy and cancel.

  “I would tell you to hurry up.” His voice was stern, but the soft, gentle look of concern which melted onto his handsome face belied the stringency of his tone. “They’re not going to eat you, baby.” He stalked toward me and took me into his arms, grinning widely. “As you know, that’s my job.”

  Smiling up at him, I gratefully accepted the tender, reassuring kiss he brushed against my lips. Naturally, Ethan was excited to see his parents, and I couldn’t help but feel I was putting a dampener on his enthusiasm by being so anxious.

  “I wouldn’t mind one bit if you wanted to go alone on this occasion, E. You haven’t seen them for such a long time; you must have tons to catch up on. You don’t need me intruding on your family time…”

  The rest of my sentence caught in my throat when his face turned stony with disappointment, his hands releasing me and resting on his hips. “I don’t need you? Is that what you really think? I’d rather not go at all than go without you, Angel. You’re the reason I’m so excited to see them. I’ve waited months to introduce them to the rest of my life.”

  “I know,” I said, quickly regretting my outburst. I prized his hands from his hips, folding them back around my waist. “I’m sorry, E. But what if they’re hoping to see you alone, spend some time with their son? They have no idea to expect me.”

  “You really think Abby’s managed to keep her mouth shut all this time? I’ll put every cent I own on them expecting you.”

  The knot of anxiety in my chest loosened a little. It would definitely take the edge off if they were anticipating my arrival. “Well, I, for one, hope that Abby’s mouth has run away with her on this occasion.”

  “You need to stop worrying,” he said, laughing. “Come on, we’ve just got time to have a bite to eat before we leave. I’ve made us a sandwich.”

  “Oh, I thought you wanted to leave early so we could arrive by two?” I followed him down the hall and through to the kitchen to where our lunch was waiting on the breakfast island.

  “And we will be. It should only take an hour, traffic permitting.”

  “I thought you said your parents lived near Claudia in the Hamptons?”

  He frowned, as if thinking back on bygone conversations while pouring us each a glass of water. “I said my parents had a house there. They also have an apartment here in Manhattan, one in London, and one in Paris, but their main home is in Greenwich County.”

  “Oh,” I said, once again staggered by the reminder of how obscenely wealthy the Wilde family was. “Wait a minute, Greenwich County, Connecticut?”

  “The very same.”

  “Oh, well that’s better. I can’t say I was looking forward to a drive out to the Hamptons, my back is still a little sore.”

  Ethan’s eyes darkened with the bold reminder of our wild, debauched escapade at the Salsa club. The episode had left a little mild bruising on my lower back, and he’d been beating himself up over it ever since.

  “Stop it,” I scolded, knowing exactly what was turning over in his mind.

  “I can’t help it. It’s inexcusable that I allowed my crazy jealousy to get the better of me.”

  “Well, I don’t regret it one bit. And it takes two to tango, E. You didn’t exactly club me over the head and drag me to your lair to have your wicked way with me. I was more than a willing participant. And as far as your jealousy’s concerned, my incendiary behavior didn’t exactly help.”

  “I didn’t say I regretted it. How could I? It has to be the horniest thing I ever did. I just can’t stop thinking about how you could have gotten really sick.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  “You could have badly damaged your back,” he continued to fuss.

  “But I didn’t. So, now who needs to stop worrying? I wouldn’t change a thing about it and neither would you.”

  A sexy smile teetered on the edge of his lips. “You’re a—”

  “Dirty girl. I know,” I interrupted, reaching to wipe off a smattering of mustard-mayo from his lower lip, sucking it seductively from my finger. “If it makes you feel better, maybe you could give my back a little rub on the way over to your parents’. With an hour to kill, we could put the privacy divider in place and have a little fun.”

  Suddenly there was a twinkle in his eye. “Mmm, as tempting as that sounds, it may prove a little difficult while I’m driving.”

  “You’re driving?” I asked incredulously. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen Ethan drive; he had little need to, not with Jackson. “Why, where’s Jackson?”

  “I’ve given him the weekend off.” There it was again, a momentary, gleaming flash of light sparkling in those electric blue irises. He averted his gaze and glancing at his watch, stood to clear our plates. “I’ll take our luggage down to the car and get it ready. Meet me down there in five minutes.”

  After brushing my teeth, I applied lip gloss, then stood looking at myself in the mirror for a few minutes, doing that stupid thing they do in the movies when they practice a smile and a speech to their reflection.

  “Hello, I’m Angelica Lawson. May I say what a pleasure it is to finally meet you.” Too formal—stupid, prissy smile. I tried again. “Hi, I’m Angel. It’s great to meet you, at last.” Too casual and the smile was bordering on smug. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the nauseous wave from rolling around inside my tummy. I shouldn’t have eaten that damn sub.

  When I stepped out of the elevator, my attention was instantly drawn to a dazzling new sports car just off to my left. I noticed it because of the provocative purr of the engine and the way it seemed to be slinking close to the ground like a predator waiting to pounce. Cars didn’t usually do much to impress me, but there was something about this one which made me think immediately of sex.

  Christ, I needed to get sex off my mind. It was a highly inappropriate time to be feeling horny, when I was off to meet the parents. I strode off to the right toward the SUV, which was parked in its regular place, but Ethan was nowhere to be seen.

  Suddenly, a voice from behind startled me. “Hey, sugar, can I give you a ride?”

  I swung around to find a sexy hunk of a man leaning against the open door of the sports car. My sexy hunk of a man. My jaw went slack as I gaped at him in utter wonderment. “Ethan, what th
e…? Whose is…?” My eyes widened in sudden realization. “Oh, hell, it’s yours.” It wasn’t a question, because I already knew the answer from the pure, unreserved joy which was shining from his eyes.

  “She’s perfect isn’t she?” His fingertips grazed gently over the hood as he sauntered around front to cast a fond, almost lustful eye over the sex machine.

  “She?” I asked with a sudden ridiculous pang of illogical jealousy.

  “Now, now, Cinders. You know what happens when you get jealous.” His smirk was wildly sexy as he stood with his fingertips shoved into the pockets of his low slung jeans, head cocked to one side. I wanted to rip off his oversized linen shirt and have him take me right there over the quivering thrum of the engine.

  “Never mind all that,” I said swiftly, needing to eject all thoughts of sex from my mind. “What? How? When, for heaven’s sake?”

  “Come take a closer look.” Grinning from ear to ear, he took my hand to tug me next to him and we began to tour around the perimeter of the car, excitement simply emanating from his pores. “A Rembrandt Bugatti,” he said proudly. “I’ve had her on order for a while. She arrived yesterday. My last car in London was a Bugatti. I’ve been meaning to replace her for a while, but just hadn’t got around to it; I’ve been a little busy since my return to New York.”

  This had been the reason for the glint in his eyes earlier. I followed his sparkling gaze to what was truly a beautifully honed machine. The color of the body of the car was split horizontally, the upper half a timeless, majestic bronze, whilst the lower half was a lighter shade of brown. The taut arcs of the sculpted body were almost athletic in appearance, from the perfectly defined rear haunches to the sensuous curves of the wheel arches. Ethan opened the passenger door and the luxurious smell of leather infused my nostrils.

  “Climb aboard, my lady.” His enthusiasm was contagious, and I found my grin broadening to reflect his.

  The inside could only be described as the elite in ultimate comfort, the sexy curvaceous quality of the exterior form melding perfectly with the lithe interior. The cockpit was a seamless blend of flowing splendor, all supple leather, glass buttons, and soft, intricately braided leather seating the color of cognac and coffee. I settled back into the ergonomic palm of the encompassing seat and smiled the widest smile.

  Ethan nodded in approval. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  I spent the first ten minutes of the journey admiring the opulent quality of every square inch of the sumptuous interior. The wonderful aroma of pristine leather amalgamated perfectly with the raw, heady scent of Ethan. He looked completely at home in this sexy machine, as if it had been made explicitly for him.

  “So?” he asked finally. “What’s the verdict?”

  “Amazing. A real head turner—like you.” He seemed pleased by my genuine appreciation. “Just one thing, though.”

  Wide eyes darted between me and the traffic warily. “Go on.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if she were referred to as it from now on. I refuse to share your devotion with any other female, even if it is a sexy-as-sin machine.”

  “I love it when you’re possessive,” he laughed, running his hands lovingly around the steering wheel, his fingers caressing the gear stick as he worked through the changes.

  “Stop flirting with the car, Ethan,” I warned as we left the city behind.

  Suddenly, as if a curtain had come down, his playful grin disappeared, and instead a frown descended to mar his perfect brow. “Speaking of flirting.” He began to chew his lower lip like he was wondering how to broach something.

  Oh hello, what’s this?

  “Spit it out, E.” His caution was making me nervous.

  “Sloane.”

  I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Do we have to talk about that now?”

  “Yes.” His tone was impatient, but softened as he continued. “I was going to leave it until after the weekend, but something’s been bothering me and I can’t seem to shift it—so no, it won’t wait.”

  I sighed again. “Okay. I suppose now is as good a time as ever.”

  Actually, never suited me better, because I knew for certain as soon as Ethan was in full possession of the facts, Sloane would be history. Not that parting company with Sloane bothered me in the slightest—the whole thing with him was creeping me out—but the business would have benefitted from his contribution greatly, and frankly, I could do without the inevitable drama of Ethan getting involved. Too late now though. “Go ahead. What’s bothering you?”

  “When I approached, he was asking you about red shoes. What the fuck was he talking about?”

  Oh, okay. Well, yes, I could see why walking into that conversation might have bothered him.

  “Okay, before I start, I should point out two things.” Concern rippled his forehead. “I was fully intending to tell you everything, but like you, I was waiting until after the weekend. The second thing—please remember you’re driving your pride and joy and to keep your focus firmly on the road.”

  Concern turned into pure agitation as he shifted in his seat and clenched the steering wheel tighter. “Angel, you’re worrying me. What did that fucker do?”

  “Are you sure you want to do this while you’re driving?”

  His arched brow was warning enough, so I braced myself and began to fill him in on every bizarre detail of the conversations I’d had with Sloane. I told him about the email with its scrupulous dictation and about the conversation on the dance floor, when he’d implied he could psychoanalyze me through my work. I told him it was Sloane’s inference that he and Natasha were more than just friends that had fanned my jealous flames, and about Sloane admitting to purchasing my entire last collection. And finally—to answer his question—I told him about the Yard Sale image.

  When I finished, I watched Ethan seethe silently as he turned it over in his head. His hands gripped the wheel with ferocity, his blazing eyes focusing on the road ahead, his jaw muscles bunching and twitching. It was like waiting for a ticking bomb to blow.

  “You won’t see him again.” It was an order.

  “I didn’t intend to. I was going to let Jia handle the contract from here on in.”

  “No fucking way,” he laughed scornfully.

  I rolled my eyes. “There’s no reason for the gallery to lose out, E. If Sloane’s content to liaise with her, there’s no reason not to see it through.”

  “There’s every reason, and besides, you’re deluded if you think he’ll go for that. He’s obsessed with you, not Jia. He’s a shrewd businessman who won’t stop until he gets what he wants. You said yourself, he thinks his money entitles him to your undivided attention.”

  “Well, he can’t have it.” I metaphorically stamped my foot. “And I know it’s still weirdly obscene, but it’s my mind he’s intent on perving at, not me.”

  “That’s just as bad. In fact, it’s worse. Who does the fucker think he is to suggest he knows what’s going on in your mind when he doesn’t even fucking know you? He’s got some weird fixation about your work and he thinks that gives him carte blanche to examine your naked soul. It’s twisted. Well, only I get to glimpse you naked—mind, body, and soul, so I’ll speak to him on Monday; tell him where to stick his quarter million fucking dollars.”

  “You can’t just go wading in, Ethan. Apart from being an insolent, intrusive asshole, he hasn’t actually done anything wrong.”

  “He’s been inappropriate.”

  “Pillaging someone’s mind may be impolite, but it’s not an offense.”

  “You and I both know it’s more than your mind that fascinates him. You saw how his face caved in when I told him we were getting married.”

  “He wasn’t as shocked as I was.” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood and steer the conversation away from Sloane. “Where the hell did that come from, anyway? Me? Get married?”

  He shot me a look. “What’s so outlandish about you getting married?”

  The seriousness
of his tone surprised me. I’d assumed the marriage quip was nothing but a point scoring comment, a way to piss Sloane off. I shrugged. “I’ve just never envisioned it for myself. All that big white wedding nonsense just isn’t me.”

  “Why ever not?” he snapped incredulously. “I thought that’s what every girl fantasized about—a big white wedding. I know Abby’s dreamt about it for as long as she could talk—which come to think of it, was probably straight from the womb—all the dresses and flowers and horse drawn carriages—”

  “And guests,” I interrupted impatiently. “Who the hell would I invite to a wedding, E?”

  My sudden comment made him wince, his eyes widening as he shrunk back in his seat with realization. “Is that what bothers you?”

  “Nothing bothers me.” My tone was sharper than I intended it to be, so I made an effort to soften it before continuing. “I’m just explaining why I’ve never given it any thought.”

  Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I turned to stare out the passenger window, wondering how the hell I’d managed to get from one car crash of a conversation I wanted to avoid, straight into another. I mentally tossed a coin, trying to decipher which was the better of two evils, quickly concluding that it was easier to concede to his demands about Sloane than to talk hypothetical weddings. I mean, why? “I’ll call Sloane on Monday. I’ll give him some bullshit excuse as to why I can’t see the contract through.”

  When I was met with silence instead of the shower of objections I’d anticipated, I turned back to face him. The cogs of his mind seemed to be turning frantically, and I wondered why it was taking him so long to veto my suggestion. Then he surprised me by disregarding what I’d said altogether, focusing instead on an earlier part of our conversation.

  “Angel?” His tone was cautious, his brows slanted in deep reflection. “What is the deal with the red shoes?”

  The question didn’t surprise me. I’d been expecting it since Abby presented me with the gorgeous pair of Christian Louboutins on my birthday. Only problem was, I still didn’t have an answer.