Pain Lived, Love Found 2

by Thalia Lake

  “I’m the last person to judge anyone, and I’m definitely not judging you. I think you’re smart, beautiful, and very, very sexy. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much, and it’s because of you.”

  I gave a short, bitter laugh as I stepped out of his arms and took some tissue out of my clutch to wipe my tears and my nose. “That’s because I’m a damn good actress, Roman. I learned at an early age how to pretend like everything is okay when it’s not. What am I saying…is…oh, never mind. You didn’t sign up to hear your escort’s personal problems. Why don’t we call it a night? Feel free to deduct whatever you want from my pay.”

  He deserves someone who has their life together, who won’t weigh a relationship down with their emotional baggage, and it pains me to say this, but I’m not the woman he needs. The faster he realizes this, the better off he’ll be.

  I wasn’t surprised when I saw his angry eyes zero in on me. Instead of arguing with me further, he reached inside the breast pocket of his tuxedo and pulled out his cell phone and pressed a number. He then told the limo driver to get ready to take us home. Without another word, he stepped aside and extended his arm for me to walk off of the balcony so we could leave. Thankfully, we were able to make a quiet exit from the party.

  The ride back to Sandy’s place was quiet. We were both lost in our own thoughts, but the tension between us hung heavy in the air like a thick fog. When the driver pulled up in front of Sandy’s house, Roman helped me out of the limo and walked me to the front door. I unlocked the door with my key and then turned around to face him. I didn’t know what to say next other than, “Thank you. Despite how our date started and ended, I did have a good time with you, Roman.”

  “I had a good time too.”

  He then handed me his business card. “If you change your mind. Good night, Sarah.”

  He gave me one last penetrating look before he turned around and walked away. I looked at the card and then at him as he got inside of the limo. Slowly I turned around and walked inside of the house. I felt lost and empty inside, and an overwhelming sense of sadness came over me. For the first time in my adult life I got a taste of what it would be like to be with a real man who respected me and treated me like a woman. That night Roman Mancini showed me that happiness was a possibility for me, no matter how much I try to fight it, no matter how unworthy of it I felt I was.

  Tears that I didn’t realize were there began to fall down my cheeks. Sandy ran out of the living room where she was watching TV and into the foyer where I was standing, excited that I was home and no doubt expecting to hear a wonderful story. I had already taken off my heels and was holding them as I continued to cry.

  “Sweetie! What’s wrong?”

  “Everything, Sandy...everything,” I whispered, through sobs.

  Sandy took me into her arms and hugged me while I cried silent tears.

  Chapter Eight - Roman

  I hate those damn monkey-suit functions with a passion, but they’re a necessary networking evil when you’re a businessman like myself. Being new to Detroit is another reason I need to attend these parties. It’s like being the new kid to a school in the middle of the school year. Everybody has their friends, cliques are already established, and you have to go in and feel things out to see where you fit in - if you fit in at all. First and foremost, you must figure out who you can trust, and that is sometimes the trickiest thing to do. While figuring out who you can trust, you also figured out who the snitches are. Most importantly, you needed to know who the movers and shakers are. Who are the people that could make things happen?

  Being invited to the Smith’s annual ball was a huge start. I had been living in Detroit for six months, and before that I had been making regular business trips from New York, where I’m originally from, for the past three years. I already knew a lot of people here and had formed some great friendships and partnerships, but there were still a few elusive people that I hadn’t been able to make contact with. When I was told that they would be at the ball, I seized the opportunity.

  Finding a date was never a problem for me, but it also wasn’t on the top of my priority list. I was tempted to go to the ball by myself, but my cousin Ace, who is more like a brother, and my personal assistant Lola, advised me against it.

  “Ro, do you really want to go there alone and have to deal with the cougars and gold diggers trying to become Mrs. Mancini? You’d spend the majority of your time beating them off of you instead of getting business done,” Ace said in his heavy New York accent.

  “He’s right, boss. Besides, it’ll look better to have a date on your arm. No one will question your sexuality, or your relationship status.”

  I looked at Lola with a raised eyebrow and she simply shrugged her slim shoulders. “You pay me to stay in the know. I keep up with the social elite papers and articles, and this is the kind of stuff they write about in those gossip rags. We need to keep the focus on you and your business and the good you’re trying to bring to the city of Detroit.”

  “Lo is right,” Ace chimed in.

  Ace is thirty-five years old, about my height, muscular, and is the spitting image of his father. His jet-black hair is always combed back, and his naturally-tanned skin didn’t have a scratch on it. He was always called a pretty boy because that’s exactly what he is, but he always hated it because he wanted to be a tough guy like our fathers. He fell in love with boxing at the age of eight and pursued that professionally from the age of eighteen until his late twenties when a shoulder injury ended his career. The shoulder injury he endured was from a street fight, and it was vicious because he was jumped by a gang of dudes – over a girl he was banging. His dream of being the middleweight champion of the world remained exactly that - a dream. His career ended over a girl he banged once or twice and never saw again. But because she had a jealous, stalker ex-boyfriend, Ace paid the ultimate price when he was ambushed one night.

  I took care of that idiot and his buddies while Ace was laid up, but it was still a pretty fucked-up way to have your dream and passion end. Ace went into a depression, got mixed up with some bad people, and almost landed himself in jail. I made him my right-hand man in my company, an advisor of sorts, and he’s been by my side ever since. Through the ups and downs I’ve always been able to depend on my cousin. It was Ace that convinced me to move to Detroit, and he came with me without a second thought. Like myself, he doesn’t have a wife or kids, so there was nothing to hold him back from packing up his life and moving with me.

  Lola is twenty-eight years old, and she answered the ad I placed with a professional recruiter for a personal assistant. Her résumé was very impressive to me, and when I interviewed her, I liked her “go-get-‘em” attitude. Lola is a mixture of several races, which resulted in her having beautiful exotic features with skin the color of mocha. Her father is Black Foot Indian and her mother is half-black and half-Japanese. She has high, defined cheekbones, a small but slightly wide nose, full lips, and slanted brown eyes. Her hair is long and curly and hangs almost to her butt. She rarely wears it down; it’s always in some kind of bun or pinned up on top of her head. Her boyfriend keeps telling her to cut it shorter, but Lola is too afraid to. Ace is secretly pining over Lola, but his feelings towards her are so obvious to me. The old Ace would have swooped in and taken Lola from her boyfriend, but he wants to go about this the right way because he really likes her. The three of us, along with eight other staff members, make up Mancini Developers. Business was going so well that I needed to hire at least five more people to help with the workload.

  “You both make it sound like I’m running for political office. I’m just trying to help rebuild the poorest areas of the city.”

  I rolled my eyes at both of them before I took a sip of my steaming hot coffee.

  Ace erupted into uncontrollable laughter. I wanted to punch him in the face because I know why he’s laughing so hard. My past life of being a street thug with family mob ties is a total contradiction to what a po
litical candidate should be. Don’t get me wrong, I know 99 percent of politicians are crooked, but if they knew my past, they’d run far and fast...or ask me for my help. I’m not proud of my past because I hurt a lot of people, including my family, but I’m not ashamed of it either because going through those tough times woke me up before I lost my life. It made me appreciate life and those who truly love me and it molded me into the man I am today. I worked hard to change my life and image, and I distanced myself from my father, uncle, and grandfather’s illegal activities. I will never forget the person I used to be. I need to remember what I don’t want to go back to: shaking down businesses, beating people up, money laundering, and dabbling in drug trafficking. And yes, even killing. I’ve been an honest businessman for twenty years now and I plan on keeping it that way.

  “I mean mugged my cousin. “It wasn’t that funny, Ace,” I responded dryly.

  “If you both feel I must have a date, where do you suggest I find one on such short notice?” I asked as I sat in my leather chair inside of my downtown office. There were several women I knew that I could call to fill the need, but then I’d run the risk of them wanting or expecting more of me, and I’m not interested.

  A few moments ticked by as Lola and Ace thought about my question.

  “Hire an escort,” Ace suggested nonchalantly.

  I looked at my cousin as if he had grown another head out of his neck.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Lola asked with a frown on her face.

  “He’d better be,” I responded, mirroring her frown.

  “Not the cheap escorts you can get on the corner. I’m talking about high-end classy escorts. They have those for events like this. No one would ever be the wiser.”

  Lola and I looked at each other and then back at Ace.

  “Why am I not surprised that you even know about this stuff? Who should I call? I doubt I could open up the yellow pages and find an escort.” I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms, curious to hear what my cousin was going to say next.

  “Umm, actually you can find escorts in the yellow pages. You just gotta read between the lines,” Ace winked. “And no, we don’t need to discuss how I know these things. I know somebody; she’s a friend of a friend. She’s really good and her girls are top notch. Whatever your taste may be, she has girls on her roster to fit your needs,” Ace replied.

  “Give me her number. I want to talk to her myself.”

  “I could’ve set it all up for you, but okay,” Ace mumbled, as he dug a business card out of his wallet and handed it to me.

  I called Sandy Miller later that day. She was very nice, and our conversation lasted no more than five minutes as she easily answered all of my questions and put all of my concerns to rest. When she asked if I had a race preference, I told her no. I’ve never limited myself to one race, color or creed. And I informed her that I liked my women shapely with meat on their bones. She then sent me a text with a picture attached of the escort she had in mind for me, and I was blown away. She was beyond beautiful. She said her name was Sarah. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was her real name.

  Sandy reassured me strict confidentiality. We met in person the next day to sign the contract agreement which included a confidentiality clause. Ace was right, she was very professional and crossed every ‘T’ and dotted every ‘I’. I found myself anxious for the ball so I could meet Sarah in person.

  On Saturday night I rode in the limo to pick up Sarah. I was more anxious than nervous. I had a lot of things on my mental to-do list. For instance, making sure I talked to all the people I wanted to make contact with, and of course meeting Sarah and hoping she and I clicked so our night would go smoothly. I got out of the limo and walked up to the beautiful, yet modest colonial-style home and rang the doorbell. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until the door opened and I was greeted by big beautiful eyes and a beautiful smile. Sarah looked to be in her early thirties with beautiful, honey-colored skin, sexy wavy hair, and a body that wouldn’t quit. I was too mesmerized by her beauty and how she looked in that dress to care that she didn’t wear black like I asked her to.

  Once we were inside of the limo, all I could smell was Sarah and her light yet seductive perfume. She avoided my eyes as I scanned her from head to toe, and each time my eyes lingered on her full, pouty lips. I’ll be honest, I wanted to taste them. Badly. When I finally got around to asking her why she hadn’t worn black as I’d asked her to, her answer both surprised and pleased me; but I couldn’t overlook the fact that she disobeyed my wishes.

  Yes, I’m a control freak; there, I said it. What I wasn’t counting on was the spitfire that Sarah turned out to be after I reminded her of what I paid for and what I expected from her as the customer. I expected her to cuss my ass out, but instead she bit that pretty pink tongue of hers and turned cold as ice. She scooted over to the other side of the limo and ignored me, and that pissed me off. If there’s one thing you don’t do to me, it’s ignore me. I had to take several deep breaths to get my anger under control and remember the big picture. I attempted to apologize and start over but she wasn’t having it. She remained the ice queen with an acid tongue.

  Not only did she continue to ignore me, but she also insinuated that I was racist. That’s when I lost it. I saw Sarah jump when I yelled “Enough” and I hoped that she would then take me seriously. I knew then that I would have to use other tactics with her; subtle tactics that when done carefully, a woman doesn’t realize that they’ve fallen under your spell. I may be a former brute with the scars and broken nose to prove it, but I also know how to seduce and romance a woman, and I’m damn good at it. Sarah said that she was going to give me my money’s worth and give the performance of a lifetime. What she didn’t know was that I planned on doing the same.

  I made sure that Sarah stayed close by my side or where I could see her at all times. I had rationalized with myself that I was doing this to sell the illusion that we were a couple, when in reality I knew that wasn’t the reason. I was very attracted to Sarah; smart mouth and all. We worked well together, and suddenly she didn’t feel like a stranger to me anymore. We acted as though we were long-time lovers. I couldn’t keep my hands off of her, and I liked the way she followed my lead by snuggling into me whenever I pulled her close. My hands itched to grab a handful of her beautifully-shaped ass.

  When I saw her across the room from me surrounded by a bunch of men vying for her attention, I was pissed. I ended my conversation with Benjamin Jacobs, one of the top business developers in the nation, to get Sarah away from those assholes. I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t know whether it was anger, jealousy, or the need to stake my claim on the most beautiful woman in the room. It was perhaps all of the above. Either way, a strong need to make it blatantly clear that Sarah was all mine came over me as I stalked towards her and took her away and led her to a place where we could talk privately.

  I found an empty hallway where I let my displeasure be known, and in typical Sarah fashion she rolled her eyes at me and tried to walk away. Pissed off, I grabbed her and kissed her. I wanted to taste those lips all night long, and once again, she needed to know who was calling the shots. Kissing her may not have been the smartest thing to do because after that first explosive taste, I couldn’t get enough, and it scared me. I felt like a lion that hadn’t eaten in days and was having his first hearty, satisfying meal. To have Sarah kissing me back with equal passion made me want to skip out on the rest of the ball and spend the rest of the night drowning in her softness, listening to her purrs and moans. The longer I kissed her, the stronger the urge became to leave the ball and take her home to my place. Shit. Having feelings for her wasn’t part of the plan.

  I had been on plenty of dates with all kinds of beautiful women, but none of them had an aura about them that called out to me like Sarah. She was different, and I liked that about her. She was tough, smart, but there was a softness about her as well. She was very feminine and ladylike and I loved that abo
ut her. I’m always a gentleman, but I found myself going out of my way to dote on her and touch her even though she felt as though I was keeping a leash on her. I loved how Sarah’s eyes sparkled every time she smiled, but behind that sparkle I saw an underlying sadness in them as well. It struck a chord with me because for many years my eyes carried that same sadness. Something was tormenting her, and I couldn’t help wondering what it was. Throughout the night I had to keep reminding myself that this isn’t real, that this is for one night only and our paths would never cross again. But after our kiss, I knew things had changed between us. That kiss was a huge mistake on my part because it caused me to feel things that I didn’t want to feel. It caused me to care about this woman and feel even more possessive of her. Lastly, that kiss made me want to see her again, which compelled me to ask her to be my date for the charity event I was attending on Saturday. Sarah’s reaction confirmed the pain she was suffering through, pain she insisted on enduring alone, and I wasn’t about to fight her on it. Taking Sarah into my arms while she wept was instinct. It tore at my heart to see her hurting that way, but when she asked to go home I wasn’t going to stand in her way. Sarah gave me what I asked for and more as my date tonight. We clicked, even if it was all an act. Actually, that’s the part that bothered me the most. Our night didn’t feel like an act, that’s how well we clicked. I think Sarah and I have a lot more in common than we realize, but unfortunately we may never find out just how much. I gave her my personal business card with all of my personal contact information on it. If she changes her mind, she knows how to contact me. I hope she changes her mind, but I doubt she will.

  Chapter Nine - Breaking Down (Sarah)