The Taste of Redemption

by I. A. Dice

Not so good for Ethan who drank his whiskey, eyeing Nadia as if I weren’t there. I grabbed my cigarettes and stormed out of the dining room to stop from getting in his face. I wouldn’t hold back if Sarah wasn’t there, but I didn’t want to embarrass her. On the other hand, she should know that her boyfriend would leave her high and dry if Nadia showed any interest in him.

  He wanted a chance with her long before we met, but once she was mine, he should have labelled her as untouchable.

  Charles joined me outside, an electronic cigarette in hand. “I’ve noticed you’ve been watching Chase all evening. What did he do?”

  I rested my back on the wall, standing the collar on my coat.

  “Nothing yet. He’s closer to Nadia than I’d like him to be, and I want to make sure that he can be trusted. Don’t worry; he’s good.”

  Charles nodded, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “I think he just wants her friendship, but you can never be sure with Chase. He likes a challenge and going against you definitely is a challenge.”

  I wasn’t worried. People were quite easy to read if you paid enough attention. I watched Chase closely, but nothing about his behaviour sparked my possessiveness, which was more than I could say about my good friend The Jerk. Ethan still eyed my girl as if she were a piece of candy that he couldn’t wait to sink his Hollywood teeth in, and if he wouldn’t stop soon, he would end up picking those teeth up from the floor.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “It’s not like he’s any competition to you,” Charles continued, “but he’s a charmer. He’s got a way with girls.”

  I scoffed, my annoyance growing by the second. Charles had one major flaw—he rambled on until he made a fool out of himself and pissed off everyone around. Unintentionally, granted, but still.

  “It almost sounds as if you think Nadia could fall for his shit.”

  “No, of course not. She’s clever, and she loves you, but…”

  The patio door slid open, saving Charles from digging the hole deeper. Nadia came out, an embarrassed tint to her cheeks. She crossed the lawn, pushed her bum onto my laps, forcing me to move my hands to let her sit.

  “What is it, baby doll?”

  She draped one hand over my shoulders. “This game is so stupid,” she muttered, waiting for me to light her cigarette. “It seems I’m almost a virgin around here. I only drank like twice all evening.”

  Charles threw his cigarette into the ashtray and left us alone, either sensing an uncomfortable conversation, or feeling uncomfortable with the way my hands caressed Nadia’s smooth legs. I couldn’t keep my hands to myself if I tried.

  “What was it this time?”

  She huffed some more. “Never have I ever had sex in a public place.”

  Thank God. I loved that she was so inexperienced. She wasn’t a virgin when we met, but she hadn’t even dominated by that point, and that was pretty close to virginity if you asked me. She was adventurous, letting me try different positions and tricks, but at the same time she was so goddamn innocent in comparison to what the blondes got me used to. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “That’s a good thing.” I pushed my hand under her dress to cup her round bum. “Not everyone has to be wild. I like that you’re not. You belong in my warm bed, on satin sheets, not in a restroom of some club with your skirt up, gripping the sink.”

  “Too much information.” She pressed a kiss to my temple. “I’ll pretend I hadn’t just visualised fifty different blondes in that position.”

  “The guy who liked blondes is gone. Don’t mistake him for me. In fact…” I reached to the inside pocket of my coat.

  This was supposed to wait until tomorrow, but I wasn’t a patient man. Besides, tonight felt like the right moment. I fished out a white box with green ribbon tied around the lid.

  “My bed is yours,” I muttered in her ear, placing the box in the palm of her hand. “And so is this.”

  Nadia’s heartbeat accelerated. I could feel it underneath my fingertips that caressed her ribs. She turned to the side to get a better look at me, her eyes wide.

  “Take it back,” she uttered. “This is crazy, Thomas. Give it a few more months until you’re certain, okay?”

  I frowned. She hadn’t opened the box, but she already shot me down. Was I missing something?

  Oh…

  The box was small, and similar to the one that housed Nick’s and Mel’s wedding rings.

  “What do you think is inside?” I chuckled, relaxing.

  Yeah, it was too soon for an engagement. Just a little, though.

  Nadia blushed, biting on her lip, then took the lid off, gawking at the silver key inside.

  “Is this...” she stuttered, looking up. “Is this for emergencies?”

  “I want you to move in with me. And before you start protesting…”

  “Okay,” she cut in, pressing her lips to mine. “I’ll move in with you. It makes sense, doesn’t it? I hardly use my apartment anyway, and I can’t say I wouldn’t enjoy monopolising all of your free time.” She kissed me again, then frowned. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Because you’re being reasonable. I had an answer to every one of your possible arguments at the ready to convince you.”

  She smiled, getting up from my knees, lacing our fingers and dragging me toward the house. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who needed to touch her all the time as if she could disappear if I stopped.

  “You don’t have to convince me that I want you forever. I just want you to be sure before you go down on one knee. Moving in together might just fast-forward it a couple of months.”

  I stopped in my tracks, pulling on her hand. Damn, Christmas. The shops were closed until Boxing day. I could have gotten a ring on her tonight.

  Nadia slammed into my chest, her eyes gleeful, cheeks rosy.

  “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

  CHAPTER 23

  THOMAS

  At your service

  My mother had a slight, excited fit when I arrived at my parents’ house with Nadia by my side. I didn’t bother to let them know that I wouldn’t be coming alone.

  The delight on my mother’s face proved it was a good choice. She loved surprises, and I could imagine that meeting my girlfriend, the first one ever, was better than any gift I could buy.

  My father had a different outlook on the situation. He saw me at my lowest point when Nadia left. Now, I regretted arriving at his office in the heart of London in a disgraceful, drunken state. I wasn’t even sure why of all people, I chose to manifest my heartache to my father, but I did. There was no erasing the words I spoke.

  It would take Dad a while to accept that I loved Nadia despite her tearing my heart out. A cold, stiff greeting was all he offered. Her shoulders sagged; her confidence evaporated.

  “Mum, I’m sure Nadia would love a tour of your library.”

  She was a quick-witted person and caught the suggestive note in the tone of my voice. She smiled, hooking her arm with Nadia’s.

  “Of course. We’ll be back in just a moment. I’ll send Annabel your way with a coffee.”

  “Thank you.” I turned to my Father. “We need to talk.”

  “It looks like we do, son.”

  He strolled across the hallway and down a wide corridor toward the office, his shoes tapping on the polished marble floor. I used to ride a bike down that corridor some twenty years ago, marking the white marble whenever I braked too hard.

  Dad pushed the door to his office open, standing aside to let me in first. A small coffee table in between the two sofas was overflowing with files and folders. To the left, behind his old-fashioned mahogany desk stood a row of floor to ceiling high bookcases filled with law books.

  I plopped down on the Chesterfield sofa by the floor to ceiling high French window that overlooked the garden.

  My father sat opposite from me, his lips sealed, but eyes calculating.

  “Do go on,” he urged, impatient.


  “I know what you think about me and Nadia getting back together.”

  “Do you?” He crossed his legs. “And what would that be?”

  “I have your teachings etched into my brain, Dad. I know you’re not a fan of second chances, but…”

  He chuckled, stopping me mid-sentence. “I’m not, but this is your life we’re talking about. Your choices.”

  Annabel, the house maid, knocked on the door, then entered the room. Her lips curled into an affectionate smile.

  “Coffee,” she explained, raising the tray up a little. “You should visit more often. I had trouble remembering how you like your coffee.”

  “Black, no sugar. I’m sweet enough.”

  “That I can believe.” She put the tray down and backed out of the office, shutting the door closed.

  My father sighed, raising his eyes to the celling. “I won’t try to change your mind. There must be something extraordinary in that girl for you to fall for her in the first place. Ever since Adam died, I thought you were never going to settle down.”

  I cocked an eyebrow, not understanding where this was coming from. Granted, I steered clear of relationships, but my lifestyle wasn’t something I bragged about to my parents.

  “You think I don’t know what you did for the past three years? Please, who do you have me for?”

  A fool, apparently.

  “That’s in the past now,” I said, fidgeting.

  There was nothing more mortifying than talking to your parents about your sex life.

  Kill me now.

  “Did Nadia at least explain why she left?” he asked.

  I bobbed my head, my hands balling into fists at the reminder.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Yes, I figured that much.” He put two spoons of sugar into his coffee. “If you tell me you trust her not to disappoint you again, I’ll believe you. I trust your judgement, Thomas.”

  “She won’t make the same mistake again. Can I count on you not to make her feel unwanted around here?”

  Nadia was nervous about meeting my parents, and my father acting cold and distant wouldn’t make things easier. This time next year, she was supposed to come here as my wife, so my father had little time to rid the grudge.

  “Of course, you can. Not just because she’s the first girl you brought home, and I can imagine how important she is to you, but also because your mother would most likely divorce me if I tried to get in your way.”

  “She’s the first and the last, Dad.”

  A soft knock tapped on the door, and my mother peeked inside.

  “We’re just about ready to eat,” she said, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think Nadia’s out of her comfort zone without you around.”

  It wasn’t normal that my immediate reaction was rising to my feet to check up on her as if she were a tiny lost kitten.

  “She’s just tired of your babbling,” Dad smirked, gesturing for me to stay put. “Give the girl a glass of wine and stop asking questions. We’ll be out in a minute.”

  Mum pulled a face, then closed the door, and reluctantly, I sat down. Dad’s smirk changed into his signature business face. He let out a long sigh, straightening his back—a clear sign he was on a mission.

  “Now ask me whatever it is you want to ask,” he said. “I can tell there’s something else on your mind. Something heavy.”

  After years of working as an attorney he must have developed a sixth sense. Maybe his ability to read people so well was the reason why he was one of the best lawyers in the country.

  I did have a question, but I was afraid of his reaction, and afraid of the answer. Not knowing allowed me to live in a fantasy land, but I needed facts to decide what my next move should be.

  “This stays between us. Mum can’t find out.”

  “Attorney-client privilege, son.”

  I rested my elbows on my knees, watching his face as I spoke. “What’s the realistic jail time for a domestic abuse offender?”

  Silence rang in the room. Dad’s eyes looked straight into mine, searching for answers to his unspoken questions. I counted thirteen ticks of the old clock before my father swallowed hard and opened his mouth.

  “Are we talking physical violence?”

  I nodded. It was one of those rare moments, when Alistair Calix struggled to keep his composure, to act the part.

  “Depending on severity and whether it was an isolated incident…”

  “It went on for six months. He broke her ribs. Tell me where that lands on the severity scale.”

  Dad fell silent again, as if he needed time to process the information and come to terms with what had only been implied—that we were talking about his future daughter-in-law.

  “He would be looking at two to four years depending on the circumstances, previous convictions, remorse, and many other factors.”

  “Two to four years?” I mouthed, pulling on my hair. “Is that it? What is the point?! The trial will take half that long, and he’ll get out early for good behaviour.”

  Dad mimicked my position, leaning forward. “Did she report it?”

  “No. I can imagine it will be a nightmare since it all took place in New York, and the guy is an American citizen.”

  There, the confirmation he needed to speak more directly.

  “That it will be. Leave this with me. I’ll check what steps we would need to take to bring this to court,” he rose to his feet, buttoning his smart jacket. “In the meantime, get Nadia some professional help. Don’t try to take matters in your own hands.”

  “She already has daily therapy sessions. I won’t go looking for him.” But if he ever shows up...

  Let’s just say it’s good that my Dad is a lawyer.

  He patted my back and walked out of the office. Nadia sat by the table in the dining room, clutching a glass of wine, listening to my mother tell her about her plans to redecorate the house for the twentieth time since I was born. I kissed Nadia’s head and slipped into the seat beside her when Annabel began serving Christmas dinner.

  ***

  It was just past nine o’clock in the evening when Nadia emerged from the bathroom wearing my t-shirt, her hair wet. She owned a lot of sexy nightdresses, but she favoured my white t-shirts more than anything.

  “What do you think about my parents?”

  “Well, your Dad is a little scary, and your mum asked some odd questions, but overall, they seem nice.”

  I laid on the bed, propping my head on my hand, enjoying the view. Whenever she raised her hands high enough, the t-shirt rolled up, showing just an inch of her round ass.

  “Odd? Expect inappropriate next time. She took it easy on you today. Give it a month or two, and she’ll be asking about grandkids.”

  Nadia chuckled, combing her hair, glancing at me in the reflection of the mirror. She looked around the bedroom and left the brush on the nightstand, then changed her mind and took it back to the bathroom.

  “You’ll need space for all your make-up things,” I said. “How about we join the Boxing Day shopping madness tomorrow? You can redecorate the house to suit you.”

  She climbed onto the bed, laid on her side and bent her knees, the curve of her waist and hip melting my brain.

  “I don’t want to change anything. I like it here. A dressing table would be nice, though. And some plants. Maybe a rug for underneath the sofa downstairs so that my feet aren’t cold. Oh, and…”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “Right now?” She pushed me onto my back and climbed on top of me, her lips on my neck. “You.”

  She draped her hair over one shoulder, devouring my lips, pushing her hands under my t-shirt. Warm fingertips traced each muscle, lips battled with mine in a slow, erotic rhythm. She arched back, nesting her bum on my zipper, grinding in circular motion as she pulled her t-shirt over her head, then gripped mine, forcing me to sit.

  “My turn to tease,” she whispered, interlocking our fingers when I tried to touch her. “N
ah-ah. No touching. You better have more patience than last time.”

  Nadia took my t-shirt off and pressed my hands to the mattress, urging me to keep them there. She brushed her lips against mine but inched away when I tried to steal a kiss. Her mouth sucked and nibbled on my neck, her boobs pressing against my chest.

  Yes, please.

  She moved away, took my pants and boxer shorts off, then slid her white panties down her slim legs, and threw them onto the floor. I clenched my fists when she sat on me astride, pressing her wetness against my length, moving up and down, but not letting me inside.

  “Patience, baby,” she breathed against my mouth, resting her hands on my chest.

  She was soaking wet, intensifying my arousal, making it that much fucking harder not to touch her, not to grip her hips and push inside. I threw my head back, eyes closed, hoping it would be easier if I didn’t watch her naked body.

  It wasn’t.

  My imagination ran wild, pushing the images I just saw to the front while sharpening my sense of touch and amplifying the pleasure. I was doomed, racing toward an orgasm faster than ever before.

  Without a warning, without reaching for a foil packet out of the drawer, Nadia eased herself on top of me. A loaded moan left her lips.

  And oh, my fucking God.

  She started moving. I couldn’t take the excruciatingly slow rhythm, especially when she scooted a little forward to let me in deeper. I gripped the sheets, adamant not to touch her, to fight my own instincts, to let her dominate in every way she wanted because she was doing a great fucking job of bringing me to the verge of a release with nothing but a few moves and barely audible moans.

  I was winning, and winning big time, watching her rise and fall, but it all went to shit when she cupped her breast and her hand travelled south. She reached ground zero, her fingers sliding from left to right, the pace of her moves quicker, gasps more audible, cheeks pink with the effort, boobs bouncing.

  There was no restrain left in me. There was no way in heaven I could sit and watch when all I wanted to do was make her squirm and spasm because of my efforts. I gripped her hip with one hand and draped the other across her back, pulling her closer so I could drink those sweet moans straight from her lips.