Prison Break

by Jade Onyx

  He backed out of her arms, repeating, “Good-bye, Mrs. Varela.”

  That's what you think, Jeremy.

  He could be as cool and composed as he wanted to be, but his body told her more. She knew better, and she was going to tap into that.

  You're going to want me back.

  “We aren't over, Jeremy.” She swung her purse over her shoulder and left. She had a plan.

  8. The Fling

  Seduce him.

  That was what Natalia needed to do. If there was even a miniscule chance to win him back and have the life that she should have had over two years ago, then she needed to find out for sure. And she knew just the thing she needed.

  Eye candy. He liked eye candy.

  She set out shopping for the attire she had in mind. According to U.S. dress sizes, she had to look for three sizes smaller than her Argentinian dress size. And the specific clothes she wanted to get were hard to find in her size. Nevertheless, she found them. By that time, the early afternoon sun had set in.

  She rented a car, went back to Jeremy's office, waited for him to leave and tailed him to his gated luxury apartment complex. From a short distance, she watched him drive into his apartment building parking, timed the gate closure to about two back-to-back cars per key card entry, and left for her hotel.

  She snuck in to Jeremy's complex the next afternoon. The place looked good with tennis courts, swimming pool, fitness center and all. She parked the rental car outside Jeremy's building and checked the listing of residents, but Jeremy's was not listed.

  To help her pass the time, she bought and read an e-book on her phone. Although she got through the novella, the periodic interruption from every car passing by (which snapped her to attention) made for a distracting read. However, none of the cars were Jeremy's.

  She waited until ten-thirty. Still no sighting yet. Was he seeing someone? Was she too late?

  If he was seeing someone, I would know about it in a heartbeat. Jessica's words echoed in Natalia's mind.

  Natalia flushed from the memory of Jeremy's physical reaction to her hug in the morning.

  I like pressing you to the wall. Jeremy was so passionate, so direct. Uncomplicated when it came to sex. God, she missed that.

  You can't run. You can't hide. The memory of his hot breath on her ear spurred a familiar warmth deep in her belly. Made her want to stay pinned to the wall then—and now.

  No, she wasn't too late. She could still get him back.

  Tired, she returned to her hotel.

  She came back in the morning to check for rental openings in Jeremy's building. A couple of suites were open, one of them furnished. She waited in the lounge to be shown there.

  “Delivery for Jeremy Wyatt.”

  Natalia looked up at the delivery man. She couldn't believe her luck.

  The man had to wait in the lobby, because the elevators did not work without a key card. Perhaps she would be seeing Jeremy again sooner than she thought. Anticipation made her heart beat faster.

  When the elevator doors opened, a brunette with dark brown eyes who looked a lot like Natalia tipped the man and received the order. Natalia heard her Spanish accent.

  So Jeremy liked Latinas, and this was his latest conquest. Maybe he couldn't get enough of the Latin blood after he had a taste of Natalia. She was his first—and the only one he proposed to, at that. This woman was obviously a replacement, a play thing, a substitute for the real thing. Poor girl. Natalia smirked.

  She could have some fun with this one and make a bold statement to this woman to steer clear away from Jeremy. No way was Natalia going to quit now that she was so close to getting Jeremy back.

  “So you are Jeremy's latest fling.” She got up from the couch and approached her. “Of course, another Latina. If you can't be near the real thing, an imitation would do.”

  The brunette paled.

  “You know,” Natalia continued, “he never broke off our engagement.” She walked slowly around her, taking a good look at her. The black stretch jeans showed off the brunette's shapely rear and legs. Her hips were slightly wider than Natalia's. Not bad, actually, if this was the piece of ass Jeremy had around for now. The girl's charcoal boatneck silk top looked elegant yet causal enough for Natalia to notice the plump peaks. She had a little bit more flesh there than Natalia.

  God, he's getting some good fuck. This was war. Natalia narrowed her eyes as she faced the brunette again. “So technically,” she said, “we're still engaged.”

  The Latina's eyes looked like they were deer caught in headlights. Good.

  Emboldened, Natalia continued, “And that means, you amount to nothing but an affair. A boy toy. A play thing. A slut.”

  She looked ready to cry. Another good sign.

  “A step up...from a battery-operated girlfriend,” Natalia smirked. “But still used, nonetheless. Poor girl.” She wanted to incite this woman, get her to react, get her out of the building, or at least plant a deep seed of dissension between her and Jeremy.

  The brunette stood to attention, jaw set. “I don't believe we've been introduced, Ms....?”

  So she speaks.

  “That would be Wyatt, of course.” Natalia smiled. “And you are?”

  “None of your business.” The brunette brushed past her and stormed off to the elevators.

  Natalia watched the elevator stop at the top floor. Of course, Jeremy would rent the top floor suites. Good, that made finding his actual suite even easier.

  9. Eye Candy

  After signing the contract for a furnished suite on the second floor, Natalia transferred her luggage to the suite. She returned the rental car and had a complimentary drop-off back to her complex.

  When she was back in her suite, she got dressed. Smiling at her reflection in the mirror, she was ready for the next step of her plan to win Jeremy back. She grabbed her key card and made her way up to Jeremy's floor.

  What if he wasn't there? Then, she'd come back again.

  What if the slut was there? Then it would be Round Two.

  What if he was there? Good. Then she can proceed with her eye candy plan.

  One suite after another, she interrupted until he answered the next one in his white polo shirt and denim khaki pants. God, he made everything look in style.

  “M—” His warm smile turned cold.

  The slut must be gone. Maybe Natalia's earlier tirade had sent the girl packing. Jeremy must have been expecting her to be back.

  He started to close the door.

  She slipped in quickly before the door banged shut.

  “You aren't welcome here.”

  “What a warm welcome for a fiancé,” Natalia purred, getting herself in the mood.

  “We aren't engaged. We never were.”

  “Yes, I'm sure we can find something more engaging.” She slipped out of her trench coat and let it drop to the floor. She started to unzip the front of her corset.

  “You need to leave before I call security to escort you off the premises.”

  “Oh? So I can go back to my suite?” She walked towards him and draped her arms around his neck.

  He backed away, the guest closet not far behind him. If he didn't want to touch her, he had no more room to back out if she kept advancing. “You're telling me you're a resident now? You're stalking me!”

  “Oh, I settled in quite nicely this morning.” She grinned. “What a nice surprise to meet the slut. She led me straight to your floor. I would have found you sooner or later. How could I possibly stay away from what's mine?” She brushed the skin along his arm, watching the flesh prickle with goosebumps.

  He shrank away. Oh, this game of cat and mouse was getting exciting. “I was never yours. You made sure of that. And you even sealed it, getting rid of the ring yourself.”

  She advanced further, set to spring upon him.

  The doorbell rang.

  Must be the slut.

  Natalia flung her back to the door, threw her head back and screamed, “Oh, yes! J
eremy, fuck me hard.” She crashed her elbow against the door. “Oh, god, yes!” She crashed the door again and again. “Oh, oh, oh. Oooohh!”

  “Damn you to hell, Natalia!” he yelled. He pushed her out of the way and opened the door. He looked out into the corridor. The slut must be gone, because he probably would have chased after her if she was still there. Good, Natalia's plan had worked. Now she had Jeremy to herself.

  Jeremy turned back towards Natalia, grabbed her arm and led her into the hallway. Entering his suite again, he retrieved her trench coat and threw it at her. “Get the fuck out of here.”

  Slam!

  She stared at the closed door, feeling naked in the hallway.

  “If I can't have you, neither can she,” Natalia spat through gritted teeth. “And I'll make you realize all you can have is me.”

  Hell. That was what he said. He wanted her to go to hell.

  She banged the door with her fist. “And if I go to hell, you're coming with me.”

  Hot tears trickled down her cheeks. She put her trench coat on and hastily returned to her suite on wobbly heels. Nothing was going according to plan, but she liked how alive she felt. Every cell in her body was charged. She was getting her juice back from years of nodding, masking and faking smiles at political events.

  She was ready to fight, fight back, fight for what she wanted. If he wanted hell, she could give him hell. He grabbed her after all. Maybe she could use that against him somehow. She fished out her cell phone and called the police.

  10. The Trail

  Diez minutos. Ten minutes.

  The prison guard had told him that he had ten minutes to talk to Councilman Mateo Varela. Jeremy intended to keep the rest of the call in English, on his turf.

  “Varela,” a gruff voice answered.

  “Councilman,” Jeremy greeted.

  “Are you mocking me?” he grunted. He probably did not expect an English speaker.

  “Prison walls cannot strip you of your rightful title, especially for trumped-up charges.”

  He muttered under his breath a grudging acceptance of the title.

  “I'm calling about your wife.”

  “Where is she? How much do you want for her?”

  “I don't have her. She's here of her own free will.”

  “We tracked her last call to Seattle. My men have been looking for her.”

  “They're looking in the wrong city. Send them to San Francisco.”

  “What's she doing there?”

  “There's no easy way to say this, Councilman.” Jeremy paused.

  “Tell me. Now.”

  “Your wife showed up at my door in clothes only a husband should see her in.”

  “Son of a bitch. You are Jeremy! Fuck you, asshole!” He continued cussing, breathing hard into the phone.

  “I left Argentina over two years ago,” Jeremy said quietly, when Varela settled down. “I have not stepped onto that continent since.”

  He waited for the comment to sink in for Varela.

  “Your aggravation mystifies me,” Jeremy continued. “And for your information, she got none. I threw her out.”

  Varela sobered, probably debating about what to say next. “She would turn away or have her eyes shut, even those early days. A few times she said your name in her sleep.”

  No wonder Natalia showed up at his door. The two never got going in the first place. That poor couple probably didn't orgasm in over two years.

  “Councilman, I know you come from a family of distinguished service, and I have no doubt you are a gentleman.”

  “I'm not a fool. Just say it.”

  Jeremy stifled a groan. “I don't think Natalia wants you to be a gentleman in bed. In my limited experience...” Sure Varela told him he could tell it straight, but from experience he knew that a man still had an ego. “...and this is over two years ago, please remember, she likes it when a man commands the bedroom. She's submissive and wants a man to exert dominance.”

  “I'm not that kind of man,” Varela said brusquely. “Machismo is trash.”

  “This isn't about machismo,” Jeremy said. “Tell her what you want her to do in bed. If she obeys you, please her. If she disobeys you, punish her by forcing pleasure on her even when she doesn't want it. So the choice is still hers—to obey or disobey. However, you get to determine how the consequences are met.”

  “How?”

  “Use sex toys, if you have to.” A vibrator would surely help, for starters. “Find out what pleasures her. Keep it interesting. Keep her guessing, so that she wants to obey you in bed, so she can get her next fix—the gentle way.”

  “I have one minute left. Make it quick.”

  “Have your men track the cell of one of my men to get the GPS coordinates.” No way was Jeremy going to give his own cell number, in case it somehow got into Natalia's hands. “She's in suite 210. Have them hand her a cell phone and a vibrating dildo. Fuck her on the phone. She should be on the next flight back, pounding on your prison door, and showing up in that outfit you should have seen her in.”

  “I'll try it.” Varela gave him the cell number of one of his men. “If it works, what do you want?”

  “Her, off my continent.”

  “Done.”

  The line went dead. Good. At least, they established a mutual understanding.

  He picked up the phone again. “Hughes.”

  “Mr. Wyatt.”

  “Text a message to this cell number.” He gave Hughes the cell number Varela gave him. “Inform the man to track your cell for the GPS coordinates here to suite 210.”

  “Yes, Mr. Wyatt.”

  Jeremy hung up the phone and sighed.

  Now all he had to do was wait for Natalia to get some and drop the charges or wait for her to leave the country without testifying for the charges to be dismissed. Meanwhile, he had to figure out how to win Maggie back.

  11. The Call

  Natalia groaned into her pillow the next day. So much for jumping continents to seduce an old flame. She had already been rejected twice. Although her latest attempt to win back an ex-fiancé failed, she did not regret leaving her stiff-neck, stuffy politician of a husband who was serving time on spurious charges that would take awhile to clear. She didn't want that life, but she wasn't liking the start of her new life either.

  She drifted through the rest of the day as if sleepwalking. She was angry before. When the rage subsided, though, she felt something else. Was she depressed? Not a good sign. She was supposed to be enjoying her new life, a life of freedom—with Jeremy.

  God, she had no chance with Jeremy now. Nor did she have a chance with Mateo. She needed to start all over again. At twenty-five, she could still be quite a catch. Heck, some women didn't even get married until their thirties. Fuck, why couldn't she have great sex and a great marriage all in one?

  I SO need to get laid.

  The outfit she wore yesterday looked sadly neglected, crumpled on the couch where she left it. She grimaced.

  What a waste. Might as well make the most of it by wearing the outfit around the suite for the rest of the evening. She took the attire into the bathroom and dressed up, checking herself in the mirror.

  Not bad. Not bad at all, if her plan had worked. Maybe she should add a mini-skirt and go clubbing.

  Ding dong.

  She jumped, startled. Should she pretend no one was in at the moment?

  Ding dong.

  Her heart skipped a beat. It could be management. No, they would call.

  She quickly ran down the list of possibilities in her mind. No, Jeremy could not have found her suite. She left it unlisted. It couldn't be Mateo either. There was no way he could have tracked her to Jeremy's. Could it be the police? No, they would have followed up on the phone.

  She quickly slipped into her trench coat and secured the sash before opening the door. Two imposing men in suits stood before her, side by side. She took an unconscious step backward.

  Private security guards, she surmised.

>   One man handed a discreet paper bag with handles to her. The other man handed her the cell phone. “Answer it,” he instructed in accented English.

  God, could it be...?

  Puzzled, she took the call. “H-Hello?” her voice shook.

  “I've got ten minutes to fuck you on the phone.” The gruff but familiar voice made her breath hitch.

  Oh, god. She didn't need to go out for a fuck. Fuck was being delivered!

  “Shut the door.” His tone threw her so off kilter that she complied. Her world spun as her legs grew weak. Where was the gentleman she thought she knew?

  “Now kneel.” God, he sounded sexy. She liked it when men took charge in the bedroom. She didn't have to think, just act.

  She kneeled.

  “You've been a naughty girl,” he sneered.

  She winced. She had never heard that tone from him before.

  “Crawl on your elbows and knees to the bedroom. Use your teeth to take the bag with you.”

  She kept the phone at her ear. The paper bag rumpled in the shuffle to the bedroom.

  God, she was wet.

  “What are you wearing?”

  “A trench coat.”

  “Take it off and fling it to the floor.”

  She undid the sash at the waist, took off her coat and flung it to the floor.

  “What else are you wearing?”

  She didn't want to tell him, because she didn't buy the outfit for him.

  “Well?” he prodded.

  “A zip front strapless corset, garters, thigh high fishnet pantyhose, a thong and high heels.”

  “Bend over onto the bed. Keep your ass up and slap yourself. Hard.”

  She did.

  “Ten times. One for each day my bed stayed cold.”

  She slapped herself again.

  “Count.”

  “Two,” she croaked.

  “That's better.”

  “Three.”

  “I want your ass warm.”

  “Four.”

  “Harder.”

  Whack!

  “Five,” she said through gritted teeth.