Looking back now, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
When it came to Damon, I’d always been alone.
I woke curled into the fetal position in a corner of a really big bed under about ten layers of blankets. The room I was in was sparse, to say the least. It had stark, tan walls, a single dresser, and the mattress I was on. Nothing else.
My head hurt. My eyes hurt. Hell, it all hurt. I looked around, tried to get my bearings, but I didn’t recognize the bedroom I was in. I peeled the covers back and looked down at the green, four-leaf-clover T-shirt I was wearing, and then I realized where I was—at Gideon’s place. I walked to the window, pushed the curtains aside, and looked out, finding myself on a very high level of a building, possibly a hotel.
I vaguely recalled a conversation I’d had with Rae the night before, sometime after I left Gideon’s house. I couldn’t recall the finer details, but visual images of Hollywood A-list actor Terrence Knight kept running through my mind.
Too afraid to tiptoe out of the bedroom I was in, I tried for answers a simpler way. I removed my cell phone from the bed and texted Rae. She responded within seconds, filling in the details from the previous night.
I tossed my phone to the side and looked around, now noticing a glass of water resting on top of the dresser, along with two pieces of toast. I walked over, tried a piece of the toast, soon realizing my body wasn’t ready for food just yet. From the other side of the bedroom door, I heard something. Breathing.
“I can hear you,” I stated.
“It’s Gideon.” He poked his head in. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you’re up.”
“I need to go home. My kids were having a sleepover last night, but they need to be picked up.”
He was dressed like he was due in court. “Now?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“Rae picked up the kids already. She told me to tell you she’s taking them for a play date today, so there’s no rush.”
She did, did she?
“I’m not sure what happened last night, or how I ended up in what I assume is your shirt, but I’d like to forget it. All of it.”
“Everything? Are you sure?”
He stifled a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Do you even remember coming here last night?”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t, do you?”
“Why does it matter?” I laughed. “It’s not like we had sex or anything.”
I may have spoken too hastily. I considered the facts.
One, my clothes were nowhere in sight.
Two, I was wearing his shirt and nothing else.
One plus one did equal a possible escapade.
I covered my mouth with a hand. “Did we do anything last night?”
“It’s a good thing we didn’t,” he winked. “I might be offended if you didn’t remember.”
“It’s all a bit foggy. I’m not even sure how I got here.”
Gideon gave me the highlights, running down the last twelve hours.
“Why did you come to the club after I left your house?” I asked.
“You were angry when you left. I wanted to talk, clear the air if I could.”
“I don’t remember us talking about anything. Did we?”
“We did not.”
“Do you want to talk now?”
“I have a meeting, or I would.” He walked over, pressed a silver key into the palm of my hand. It dangled from a leather keychain that had the words “Porsche” embossed on it. “There’s a car parked out front. Use it to get home. I’ll arrange to have it picked up later. In the bottom drawer of the dresser, there are some gym shorts. They might drown you, but they’re all I have.”
He backed away.
“You’re leaving?” I asked. “Now?”
“I’m sorry. I’d like to stay. There is one thing you should take advantage of before you go though.”
“What?”
He held out his hand. “I’ll show you.”
We walked down a flight of stairs and into a bathroom tucked at the end of a long hall.
“The best thing about this place is the tub.”
What he called a tub looked to me like a miniature grotto. I reached out, running a hand over the rough, tan exterior. It felt like hardened sand. Gideon leaned down, pressed a button on the wall. Pale-blue light filtered down from the ceiling. “This button controls the lights, the other buttons control the jets. And you’re welcome to stay and soak in it as long as you like.”
I didn’t know exactly what to say, so I said, “Thanks.”
“My chef made your breakfast. It’s in the kitchen.”
“You’re leaving me here with your chef?”
“He came earlier. He’s not here anymore. You have the place to yourself. You won’t be bothered.”
Too bad.
I was breaking into a sweat just looking at Gideon.
“If you’re available tonight, I’d like to take you to dinner,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Six o’clock?”
“Okay.”
My nerves had taken over, making the word “okay” the only audible sound I seemed capable of making. It was time for him to leave, and all I could do was fantasize about how much better the bath would be with him in it.
I raised Gideon’s shirt over my head and dipped a toe into a little slice of piping-hot heaven. Sitting with my knees in a crisscross position in front of me, I submerged myself, remaining there until I was forced to pop my head above the surface to ingest a steamy breath of air.
I floated to the opposite end of the tub. Carved chairs made of stone flanked both sides. I scooted my body onto one and reclined back, finding a series of buttons to play with on the armrest. I pressed each one. The first two ignited jets, shooting water in all directions beneath the surface. The third showered water down from needle-sized holes in the ceiling. I basked in it, feeling like I was under a waterfall in a tropical rainforest.
I glanced down at my scars, and it stirred up a memory I’d forgotten from the night before of me standing before Gideon. Naked. I gasped so loud it echoed throughout the room, and I was grateful no one had been there to hear me. The way I remembered it now, I’d thrown myself at someone who didn’t want me. I offered, and he refused. I imagined my scars repulsed him. He’d probably only been nice to me that morning out of pity for my situation and because he didn’t want to disappoint his pal and my friend’s boyfriend, Richard.
I swam back to my towel, dried my hands, and reached for my phone. I draped my body over the side and feverishly typed him a text message: Sorry, I can’t have dinner with you tonight.
His response was swift, arriving less than a minute later: Why not?
Me: I have some things to do. If you need to talk to me about the house, why don’t you come by my office on Monday?
Him: I didn’t want to take you to dinner to talk about the house. Have I done something to upset you?
Me: I’m starting to remember bits and pieces from last night. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I think it’s best if we maintain a professional relationship. I’m headed back to my place in a minute. I’ll find a ride so you don’t have to worry about getting your car later. Thanks again.
Another text popped up. I didn’t open it. I’d said all I needed to say, so why did I feel like such a jerk? I stood, draped a towel around me, and stepped out. The bathroom door whooshed open. Gideon walked in.
“What the hell?!” I spat. “What are you doing?”
He leaned against the door, closing it. “I’m talking to you. Please. Don’t go. I’m not sure why you’re upset, but hear me out, okay?”
“You can’t just barge in here like this, whether you want to talk to me or not.”
“Why are you upset?”
“I’m not. I just need to go home. I told you. I think we should keep things
professional, and you being in here like this definitely isn’t.”
“Do you want my listing?”
“What?”
“Do you want my listing?” he repeated. “Yes or no?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then tell me what’s bugging you.”
“Are you saying if I don’t, you’ll list with someone else?”
He grinned. “Maybe.”
“All right. Fine. I remember you looking at my scars last night. I mean, I don’t recall why I was naked exactly or how I got that way, but I know I was standing in front of you butt naked, you saw the scars, and I was rejected.”
“What? That’s not what happened at all.”
I pressed a flat hand out in front of me. “It’s okay, Gideon. Truly. I realized you’ve probably only been with slender women with perfect, model bodies. It’s fine. Really.”
Without acknowledging a word I’d just said, he kicked off his shoes and peeled his socks off his feet.
I backed up. “Whoa, what are you doing?”
“There are two ways this can happen—I undress myself, or you do it for me.”
He couldn’t be serious.
“Stop,” I said. “Just stop it right now. Whatever you’re thinking right now isn’t happening. Let me out. I’m leaving.”
He flung his jacket to the floor, unbuttoned his shirt, and yanked it off. His pants came off next. Seemingly incapable of moving or speaking, I stood there in a stiff, nervous haze of denial, and yet, he was naked. Completely.
He walked toward me. Again I stepped back, assuming he was going to grab hold of me and do whatever he was planning next. He didn’t. He brushed by me, stepping into the water like I wasn’t even there.
“You said you wanted to go,” he said. “Well, you’re free to go if you like.”
He scooted around the corner of the tub where I could no longer see him.
“I don’t like,” I replied, miffed I was even playing into his childish game.
“Come here,” he demanded.
“No.”
“Sasha, come here.”
As defiant as I wanted to be, desire coursed through my veins. I was drawn to him. I stepped back into the water but remained standing, the towel still wrapped around my body. Sober Sasha wasn’t quite as outgoing and fearless as Drunk Sasha, and right now, Sober Sasha couldn’t have felt more awkward. Gideon stood, walked toward me, yanked the towel from my body, and tossed it to the side. I shouldn’t have, but I panicked, covering my scars with my hands.
“Look at me,” he said.
I didn’t. I couldn’t.
He cupped my chin in his hands, drawing it upward, toward his face, making me look at him whether I wanted to or not. “You have no reason to feel shame about what that animal put you through. Your scars aren’t flaws. They’re a reminder of your strength. You stood up for yourself and survived. When you allowed me to see you last night, all of you, I was taken aback. You’re a remarkable woman.”
“But you rejected me.”
“Not because I didn’t want you. I did. I just didn’t want it like that—not when I couldn’t be completely sure it was what you wanted too.”
“You wouldn’t even kiss me earlier. I thought it was because—”
“You’re my client. I shouldn’t like you, and I shouldn’t have allowed myself to feel the way I do for you. I denied it at first, but when I saw you again, I had to know if you felt the same way I did.”
In that moment, nothing else mattered anymore.
Only him.
I combed my hands through his hair, and he leaned forward, giving me a sweet, tender kiss. Words were no longer necessary. As I broke from his embrace and he looked at me, he knew I wanted him too.
I woke to a darkened room, felt the space on the bed next to me. Gideon was no longer by my side. I called out to him, but he didn’t reply. I tried to remain calm, not to worry. After a couple minutes went by, I slipped his shirt over my head and went looking for him. The door to his office was slightly ajar. I could hear him talking on the phone. His voice was low, almost muffled. I guessed it was so he wouldn’t wake me.
I stepped inside the room, and he looked up, his face solemn. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“I need to go,” he said to the person on the other end of the line. “I’ll call you later.”
He put the phone down, but didn’t say anything, making me feel uneasy, like I had no right to be there, invading his personal space. He clasped a hand over his mouth, exhaled deeply like he was trying to make a decision.
About me?
About us?
Whatever it was, I had to know.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
Some time passed, then he said, “No.”
“You’re making me nervous.”
He stood, crossed the room, wrapped his arms around me, and planted a kiss on my forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I get the feeling we need to talk.”
“You’re right. We do.”
“About us?”
He shook his head. “About Damon.”
Damon?
“Why?”
He tipped his head toward a loveseat in the corner of the room. “Why don’t we sit down?”
“I’m fine. I don’t want to sit down.”
“Yes, Sasha, you do.”
If it was the only way to get him to talk, I realized I just needed to do it. I walked to the sofa and sat down. “Okay, I’m sitting. What’s going on?”
He sat next to me, folded my hand inside his. “I don’t know any other way to say this, so I’m just going to be straight with you. Damon is dead.”
I heard the words, but didn’t accept them. “What do you mean? No, he can’t be.”
“You mentioned Damon has friends in high places. What you don’t know is how dangerous those men are.”
I sagged into the sofa, tried to accept what he was saying. “Continue.”
“When Damon realized what was at stake with this trial and the loss of his career, I assume he leaned on some of his friends to fix his problems, and they turned on him. When he was denied, my guess is Damon pushed back.”
“Pushed back how?”
“Your ex-husband is known for defending some of Vegas’s most notorious criminals and getting them acquitted for their crimes. Along the way I’m guessing he learned a secret or two, things he knew he could use as ammo if the need ever arose. Now that it has, I believe he threatened to expose those secrets if they refused to help him.”
“And you’re saying he was killed because of it?”
He nodded.
“How?” I asked. “When?”
“A few hours ago, he was found dead in his jail cell. He’d been stabbed several times in the chest. They don’t know who was responsible. Video surveillance on Damon’s block had been momentarily shut off. No murder weapon was found. And of course the other inmates claim they saw nothing.”
Damon had made one last threat to the wrong person and paid the ultimate price.
My face was clammy and wet, stained with tears. “I’m sorry. I have no right to cry over him. Even in death, he doesn’t deserve it—not from me.”
Gideon squeezed my hand. “Don’t be sorry. There are limits to a person’s strength. Even yours. A part of you might hate him now, but another part loved him once. You have every right to feel the way you do.”
My tears were part loss and part relief. There would be no messy trial, no witnesses, no ruling. Court was adjourned. Damon had received his sentence.
I sat in an armchair staring at the view out of my floor-to-ceiling window in my living room. As lives go, I was in complete awe of mine. It had been six months since I’d first rendezvoused with Gideon in the bath, and my life felt a lot different now. I was at peace.
I’d sold Gideon’s home a month before and found him a new one. Correction. I’d found us a new one. I was in no rush to get married, but moving in together
felt good, and the rock the size of my thumb on my engagement-ring finger made things even better.
It was almost surreal to look back at my marriage to Damon and realize I used to think what I felt for him was love. I didn’t know what it was exactly, but it sure wasn’t that. I knew what real love felt like now, and I couldn’t believe I’d waited so long to find it.
“Sasha, did you hear what I just said?” Rae asked.
I turned. “Sorry. What?”
“Feels good, doesn’t it, being in love?”
“I didn’t think I could ever have what you have with Richard. And now look at me. Look at us. You were right.”
She raised a glass, clinking it together with mine. My front door opened and a distressed Callie flew in, her long, blond hair looking like it hadn’t seen a brush today, which wasn’t like her. Usually she was primped to perfection. She hurled a handbag on the couch and plopped down, crossing her arms in front of her.
Wet, black mascara was smeared all around her eyes, dripping down her face.
“Callie, what’s wrong?” Rae asked. “What happened?”
She didn’t respond at first, which wasn’t a surprise. Callie had always been a woman of few words, a quiet introvert waiting to be unleashed. Only, most of the time, she preferred the security of the leash.
“Josh...”
Callie started then stopped.
“Josh what?” I asked. “Is Josh okay? Did something happen?”
“Yes, something happened!”
A moment of silence passed between the three of us.
“Are you going to tell us what it is?” I asked.
“He left,” she cried.
“What do you mean he left?” Rae asked.
“He walked out.”
“Did he say why?” Rae asked.
“He didn’t say anything. He just packed a bag and walked out. Said he was going to Charles’s house.”
“Who’s Charles?” I asked.
“His poker buddy. His single poker buddy. I don’t think he wants to be married to me anymore.”
Shattered Dreams (Vegas Dreams Book 2) Page 6
