by F. G. Adams
10
Sage
Sometimes it’s not the people who change, it’s the mask that falls off, a new Sage-ism. For the last day or so, a painful inner turmoil has developed and festered much like an untreated splinter on the bottom of your foot. You need to remove it and treat it for infection, but the damn thing is wedged so deep the pain it will cause removing it is gonna hurt like a bitch.
You attempt to reason with yourself about sticking a needle in your foot. If you do this, you will solve the dilemma, because well, it’s a means to the end, but try as you might, the pain caused by the solution bears too much weight to attempt removal. So, you decide to deal with the pain from the splinter and not remedy the problem immediately. Instead, you patiently wait and your foot hurts when you walk, a constant reminder of the tiny sliver of wood under your skin. It becomes extremely unbearable to wear your cherished pair of heels. Persistent little bugger. Frustration overcomes the painful notion, and you grab the needle and tweezers, ready to bite the bullet and remove it. You take a deep breath and exhale. Ten painless seconds later, you’re staring at a millimeter of a thorn on the very small tip of the needle.
The needle represents Lukas, the solution I’m afraid is gonna hurt like a bitch. I can’t help fighting him every chance I get. For the simple fact I cannot seem to wrap my head around the growing intense emotions I feel for him. I don’t want to deal with the fear of losing myself, so I ignore what my heart desires most. Turn away from what he represents.
Being confined in the house even as large as it is, I’ve constantly been aware of Lukas’ close proximity. The quick looks of desire we’ve exchanged from across the room while we watched a movie or when we played a board game with Harper. Mornings, afternoons, evenings, take your pick, he’s everywhere. I go to the office and remember the pleasure I gave him. I watch it snowing and remember the night of pure ecstasy in the cabin in the woods. His scent lingers in the media room and down the hallways. I’ve been surrounded by him, and all I keep thinking about is, ‘What kind of future do I have without him?’ Have I truly changed my stance about a relationship with Lukas? Did the mask I’ve been wearing my adult life shatter into a million fragments, and do I really care if it’s gone for good? Hope as fragile as the wings on a butterfly blooms inside me.
I received a call from Fallyn earlier; she and Ollie were able to hitch a ride back to the States on a Trident jet. They should arrive sometime early in the morning. She sounded so un-Fallyn like I had to check the caller ID a few times. She was blissful and giddy almost to an extreme, going on about the places Ollie had taken her to visit in Greece. I’m so thankful she has finally found her happiness.
My time here will be over and I’ll be going home to Lakeview. The reprieve I seriously needed will end. It’ll be back to the grind and the mess I so abruptly left. Unanswered questions to problems I brushed under the rug. Things at home need to be dealt with, and then Lukas and I seriously need to talk. The back and forth, indecisiveness I’ve been throwing at him since he returned stateside isn’t fair to either of us. It’s unhealthy. He wants more than a fuck buddy, and I’m on the verge of agreeing. I don’t want to want him, but I do.
Shortly after talking to Fallyn, Grandma called to chat.
“Hey, Grandma. What’s up?”
“Lord help me, peanut, so much is going on I’ve got poor Carl in a tizzy trying to keep up with my schedule. Between you, me, and the fence post, the older he gets, the crankier he acts. Goodness gracious. Thought for sure he was gonna pop a gut when I told him the jet needed to be fueled and ready for a flight to Arkansas in the morning. He went into a rant explanation about alerting the captain and crew, and a bunch of other things. I stopped listening to him when he mentioned a flight plan. I’m not the captain, why should I be concerned about that?”
I chuckle. She’s been driving poor Carl nuts for years. Try as he does, he can’t seem to keep my grandma on the straight and narrow path. He’s been her butler turned assistant since before I was born. They act more like siblings than employee and employer.
“He gave you a hard time, did he? Shame on him. Hasn’t he learned you’re gonna win the argument every time?”
“He sure did, but it was worth it. I think I got under his thick skin. He fussed enough, worried I might be flying out there.”
“Why would that concern him? You’re a fly-by-the-edge-of-the-seat kinda gal. Are you doing okay?”
“Of course, I am, dear. I had a small mishap yesterday and tripped over the last stair not watching what I was doing. You know how that is. Nothing to fret about, but Carl doesn’t seem to agree. Hmph. Just twisted my ankle a bit; I should be up and running again in no time flat. I won’t be lounging around when there’s work that needs to be done.”
“Are you sure? You would tell me, right? You know I will worry about you.”
“I’m fine. Doc Peaden checked it out and prescribed bed rest for a couple of days. He told me to keep it elevated and I’d be good as new. Truth of the matter, I’m enjoying a little R and R. I’m catching up on my reading.”
“Just the same, I’ll come by and see you tomorrow. Be expecting a visit.”
“Sounds lovely. It will give us a chance to discuss the Charity Ball. We need to decide on the dinner seating chart for the event. I will let Carl know and he can grab us a pizza from The Hideaway. I’ve been craving one for a while now.”
“Delicious. Make sure to add jalapeños to my half.”
“You gals have cast iron stomachs.” She laughs. “Consider it done. The jet should be there around noon.”
“Noon? Could you possibly arrange it to be here sooner? Like eight or earlier?”
“I…Why, Sage? What’s going on? Did the problems you’ve been running from follow you to Arkansas?”
“No. I mean, I’m not running. Nothing like that. Just wanting to get home so I can deal with some things at the clinic. That’s all.”
“Mm Hmm, I’ll let Carl know you want to get back sooner. If there’s a problem, he’ll give you a call.”
“Thanks, Grandma. Love you. See you tomorrow.”
“Love you, too, peanut. See ya soon.”
That was hours ago. Carl called and confirmed a seven-o’clock departure time. I said my good-byes to Harper as well. I have an early morning. I’ll need to leave here before dawn thirty to make it to the airport. I’m exhausted from the emotional good-bye with Harper. I’m really going to miss her. I just hope she’s careful and heeds my warning. She’s searching for something out of her reach and needs to be patient. Good things come to those who wait.
While I lie in bed staring at the stars, my mind begins to drift, a lost and wandering ship carrying my worries slowly out to sea. I’ve been avoiding Lukas all afternoon. The moment I decided I was leaving, I have treated him like the Bubonic plaque. Facing him one more time when I know I’m running doesn’t seem right after the time we’ve spent together. I’m also debating on if I should tell him my thoughts about the vandalism and break-ins. As much as I don’t want to believe it, there’s possibly a connection to the events in Dubai. Am I crazy? If it weren’t the same message each time, I might believe I was. But the message is clear. Whoever is behind the threats is the same person who threatened me overseas, and that same person has tracked me down in Lakeview, Florida.
Grandma’s aware of the threat, which means you can bet your bottom dollar she will be involving Trident Security. As much as I want to avoid their involvement, I am aware it’s the wise choice considering the escalation of the situation. Until recently, the threats had been minimal and random. The locker at my gym. Little yellow message notes on my car. Emails from an anonymous, untraceable user. Roses delivered monthly, again with no way to trace the buyer because it was paid with a disposable card.
Breaking into my office and home is a brand-new level of danger. The game has become dangerous—upped the ante. The unknown stalker has raised the stakes by trashing my belongings. I’m officially scared and antsy about what the next
move will be. Silly me. I freed my imagination, and it’s conjured up so many different scary things that could possibly occur. What if I’m ambushed in the parking garage while walking to my car late at night, or someone hides in my house waiting for me to return? They’ve broken in once without Trident Security being aware. The possibilities are endless. My shoulders hunch up to my ears from the mounting stress, and counting little lost sheep isn’t helping me fall asleep.
I should check my messages, but after the last phone call from Billy, I’m not in a hurry for an update. I get out of bed to find my backpack and crawl back on the bed. Rummaging around, I locate the phone and power it up. Please, no more bad news. The light blinks and seconds later, a message pops up from an unknown telephone number.
I shiver at the mounting fear and tug the comforter closer, cocooning myself in the comfort it provides. I’m getting the heebie-jeebies, the hair on my nape stands and goose bumps pimple my skin. I select the message.
Traitorous whore! Poisonous rose! By my thorn, you will perish.
I throw the phone. How in the fuck did someone get my cell phone number? It’s privately listed. What did I ever do to deserve such hatred and animosity from another human being? Concentrate, Sage. You’ve got to figure out what you are missing. I’m livid instead of cowering, which I’m pretty sure was the intent of the scare tactic. Time to put this puzzle together and move the fuck on.
I’m not a whore. Actually, popular belief around Lakeview is the complete opposite. I’m not easy, especially after I returned home from Dubai. Whether I acknowledged it or not to myself, I was ruined for other men after Lukas.
Nicholas is the only guy-friend who comes to mind. I occasionally accompany him to different charity events. He tried the more-than-friends routine, and I shut him down faster than a bottle rocket launching on the fourth of July. After that, we’ve remained good friends and colleagues.
I’m drawing a blank trying to list other suspects. My woman’s intuition urges me in the direction of Dubai. All signs point to Malik. I just don’t know understand why someone would go to so much trouble. The actions are simplistic but the meaning complex.
I’m almost to lala-land when the bed shifts and someone’s covering me, looming over me.
“Shh, princess. It’s just me.”
“Lukas,” I sternly hiss, pummeling him with both fists. “What in the blue blazes are you doing sneaking into my bedroom this late at night? You scared the holy shit out of me. You big ass!”
He chuckles and grabs my flailing wrists. Gently, he restrains both in one hand above my head.
“That’s gonna cost you, princess,” he teases.
“I’ll show you! Let me go or I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Talk me to death? I don’t think so. I’ve got plans for you that include those luscious lips wrapped around my dick, not nagging me. Now, I’ve got you where I want you, at my mercy begging for release.”
“Never gonna happen, sweetness. I don’t beg,” I swear.
“You will by the end of tonight,” he promises.
“Whatever, Lukas. You keep thinking that. Better yet, make me. I dare you.” I throw down the gauntlet; another game we play.
“I’m about to feast on a juicy sweet little morsel à la carte, princess, while your lips are wrapped around me.”
I start panting at the idea. Warm air caresses along my nape as he makes a path to the sweet spot behind my ear. My hips rise and fall against his legs, searching for relief. He nips the lobe, coaxing a moan of pleasure from me. He’s good. All my posturing is fading quickly. Damn, he’s good enough to have me begging soon.
“When I’m finished with you, we’re going to have a serious talk, princess. You’re going to tell me everything I want to know about the crimes to your office and home, but for now, I’m gonna enjoy you.”
I still as the excitement builds.
Problems all but forgotten.
11
Lukas
Just because people hear me laugh doesn’t mean my life is easy. Just because I have a smile on my face every day doesn’t mean something is not bothering me. I choose to move on with the negatives in my life and keep my head up instead of dwelling in the past.
Been there, done that. Wrote a book all about that shit.
Here lately, though, my mood has become septic. If the guys were around, they’d be all over this dark Lukas. Buttoning it down and tamping it out. For now, I can stew in peace. The only reprieve from the darkness is Sage.
As the starry night filters through the slightly opened drapes of the window, the haze off the moonlight reaches in like fingers, caressing, comforting me in my passionate state. It reminds me not to be unhappy because the latest round of sexual pleasure is over. At the present, my sated expression sends a shiver through my pleasured body, reminding me of the satisfaction that it happened. Again.
The old saying ‘Nobody said the road to heaven would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it’ comes to mind. It’s the truth. Sage Blackwood is worth every single torture I endure on a daily basis.
My breathing’s still moderately erratic, as sweat drips from my temples due to the blazing pinnacle release. I roll over onto my side; the memory foam mattress dips and molds to my substantial form, and a smaller arm collapses nonchalantly across my waist.
I prop up my head against my fist and ogle the naked body of my princess. Her breath is even and steady, red swollen lips slightly parted. Sated. Dark thick hair fans out in stark contrast to the white pillow beneath her perfect head.
As Sage sleeps, the movement in her chest captures me. I’m enthralled by the sight of her dark pink nipples, pebbling up from the cold. For shits and giggles, I pluck one taunt peek, and extract a slight squirm along with a rumpled headshake. It’s followed by a few nonsensical words tumbling from her lips, along with one of the cutest snort-snores my ears have ever heard.
Shock and awe thunder inside, while Sage peacefully sleeps beside me. For the very first time in the history of our non-relationship, I’m not being tossed out of the bed. For the first time, Sage has fallen asleep right alongside me.
For a time, I lie beside Sage and listen to the musical sounds of her soft snores. I hook a few stray locks fallen across her face and twist them around my finger. The soft silky-smooth hair slips from my fingers. Surprisingly, she doesn’t stir. Fascinating.
I gently crawl out of bed, careful not to make a sound, adjusting my prosthetic before I stand. Finding my pants where I tossed them to the floor, I collect my crack pipe.
The moonlight streaming through the window entices the senses, and I marvel at the beauty of the illuminated night. Concentrating on the view from here, I adjust the curtain, which allows more light into the room. Millions of diamond-shaped effervescent orbs cover the velvet darkness.
In the glow of the light enveloping the room, I’m absorbed by the sensation of standing in the middle of the universe, powerful, full of knowledge. Yet at the same time I acknowledge the insignificance of being a small spec in a vast cosmos.
Warmth spreads through my body, soliciting a soul-deep need to cherish the sleeping beauty lying in the bed. A primitive necessity to protect for safekeeping.
Automatically, the e-cig extends to my mouth, and I siphon a deep, long inhale. On exhale, the shroud of smoke briefly covers the pane of glass, leaving behind moisture in its wake.
Blindly, I reach out and draw an S&L in the condensation. What the fuck, Luc? I smudge the window and draw another long puff on my crack pipe.
Hearts and flowers, mushy shit. It’s a ball tamer. I’ve never been a hearts-and-flowers kind of guy. Nope, just not me. Respect for the women in my life? Of course. But invariably, I love and leave. Any woman who made it to my bed never left unsatisfied. Not only that, I dabbled in the sexual arts with many different kinds of women. A rainbow of colors: red, yellow, black, or white, I have no prejudice when ladies are concerned. I love them all. Loved them all. Until Sage.
My
gaze travels back to her. What have you done to me, minx?
Unhooking my leg and propping it on the wall beside me, I crawl back into bed. The bed moderately sags from my weight, and an unconscious Sage snuggles closer to my chest. Guiding her head into the crook of my arm, I gather her pliable body until she’s so close, her breath tickles the skin of my chest.
I snuggle with Sage, my weary soul on the verge of seducing sleep. My thoughts roam, spawning a tingling pleasure pulsing in my heart.
Protect.
Peace.
Home.
Sage.
Presently, I’m standing in front of the coffee pot, pouring a cup of coffee, and I’m trying to wake my ass up. I’m pissed beyond reason; white dots blur my vision, and I grind my teeth so hard my jaw aches.
I woke up to an empty bed. I woke up and Sage was gone. And not just gone to the bathroom or the kitchen. That would be too easy. Her suitcase was gone, and all her belongings with it.
Sage checked out. Fuck!
“What’s up, brother bear?”
A familiar voice interrupts my unpleasant brooding. I welcome the sight-for-sore-eyes, Oliver Bishop lumbering into the room. A goofy, sloppy, happy-as-fuck grin plastering his face.
“Hey, Ols. You made it back,” I grumble, but mosey over for a man-hug shake.
“Yeah. We got in about three hours ago. Didn’t wanna wake anyone up. How’s everythin’ around here? I see you survived.”
His presence lifts my crappy mood.
“That I did. But I’m zonked, man. It’s been a rough week,” I grunt before realizing I may need to revise. “Not any trouble here, per se, Ollie. But there’s trouble brewing elsewhere. I hate to say this, you’re here just in time for the meeting in about twenty minutes. Conference call with the teams.”
“C’mon, Luc. I jus’ got here. Can’t it wait for a little while? Maybe ’til tonight? I haven’t had much sleep. And jet lag is a bitch.”
