by Turner, Lori
Words broke free without a second consideration.
“No.”
She said, and it didn’t dawn on her that her response had been vague and he didn’t know which of his remarks had been shot down. They could have played this game several ways, tiptoeing around the crux of the matter. Well, he wouldn’t do that.
Lucien’s question hit her like a bull barreling head first to hit its target.
“Ona—I have to ask…is there some form of an arrangement that involves you marrying Geff?”
There—he’d said it; and this time his hope was to bury the topic for good.
Ona’s eyes popped wide when she blurted out
“No! I would never.”
She didn’t hesitate in her answer, and neither did he when he said…
“Then that puts us back at square one. I respect your religious beliefs, and I understand if you can’t tell me where your project will place you at the beginning of the New Year but you’ve got to tell me something because the uncertainty is killing me.”
They were standing toe to toe now, and lines streaked across his forehead. This was a serious moment, yet her emotions didn’t fit the situation. Lucien had an all consuming presence, and when he crossed the threshold of personal space, she’d been sucked in. She couldn’t see or think straight. His overpowering magnetism nuzzled her up and if she could sleeve herself in his warmth, she would have. She mentally prayed, asking God for strength to withstand this temptation, and when Lucien spoke, her imaginary fortress shattered, then crumbled at her feet.
Lucien couldn’t refrain his passion any longer but he spoke low when he said…
“Ona.”
She sensed a tangible comfort in his voice and the sensation swelled when he continued to talk.
“I may not be a Samaritan but I am a Christian and I believe that the God we serve is a God of love. I will not accept that God would stand in the way, preventing two people from being together.”
Her chest tightened and she agreed, but she couldn’t find the words to say it. Lucien said…
“I know that your faith practices something that prohibits marriages to people outside of your faith—and I’m not debating that. However, I want you to understand what I believe. If two people love each other, and they agree to keep their vows; in that instance, I believe that God would honor that union. And in our case; since I am not a member of your faith; I don’t believe that God would frown on the idea of us pondering the possibilities of a lifelong future, being together…and I suspect that you share my opinion.”
He’d told her what she believed, and she should have recited one of the creeds, negating his opinion but she didn’t. Ona couldn’t summon the words because her heart wouldn’t let her. In the Creed, every verse that spoke about separation, was followed by a reason and she knew them all, but her faith had never been tested in this way; not until she’d met Lucien. Nothing in all her learning had ever prepared her to face the pain of loving and knowing that her love for a person was considered wrong in the eyes of her Sect.
Ona’s eyes had lowered to the floor because she wasn’t strong enough to face looking at him. She watched his feet as he took one step, closing off the distance that had separated them. On the top of her head, she could feel the warmth of his even deep breaths and her body screamed for more of him. Like a period that ends a sentence; Lucien found a way to put a perfect ending on this confusing and difficult problem. She felt large hands enveloping her shoulders, and she rocked forward, drawn by an invisible force. His arms slid lower, resting across the smooth curve of her back. She searched her brain, looking for a set of directions; anything that would tell her what to do or say in a situation such as this. He was so close, and when their bodies touched, she could feel and sense his excitement. She couldn’t help herself, and she began counting the beats of his drumming heart. All reason seeped away because his lubdub was racing just as fast as her beating heart. When she inhaled; within that breath clarity consumed her. Ona faced the honest truth. She’d fallen in love months ago, but she hadn’t known the signs and if she had, she pondered if she would have done anything to avert catastrophe. But truth be told, she doubted it, because she didn’t regret anything that had happened.
Lucien filled his lungs, then he drew her closer. What the fuck had he done?! He was clueless but the web had been spun and he didn’t have much time to weave the outcome that he wanted.
He said…
“Ona—do you trust me?”
She didn’t know what action of hers had summoned the thought but she didn’t let a second pass to consider it. Her voice was low but the tone carried a sense of strength when she said…
“Yes. I trust you.
“I need you to do something and this request will require a great deal of trust on your end. So, I’ll ask you one more time—do you trust me.”
Her face was sideways, laying on his chest. She wanted to angle her head to see his expression but if she did that, then she would lose her position; and if it were within her power, she would remain this way until the end of days.
Ona said…
“I trust you”
“I don’t want you to count me out of the running—and I know what I’m about to say won’t be easy; but I believe we can manage it.”
Lucien loosened his hold, and the distance made is easier for her to see his face. When she looked at him, she had to will her heart to beat. Every fiber of her being screamed with a renewed excitement.
Lucien fixed his gaze with hers when he said…
“Date me—exclusively.”
When her lips parted but the sound remained caught somewhere in the well of her throat; Lucien said…
“Ona—hear me out. Your mom and dad are in Africa. And your brother Caleb is with them. Noah is building a bridge and he isn’t even in this state. Now…I know that you said that the people in your commune are like an extended family, but they aren’t watching you like your actual family would.”
Lucien knew this firsthand, because he’d done the sneaking to prove it. When she didn’t answer, he said…
“Ona…this thing between you and I; it just feels so right—and I think that we’re worth the risk. We have to see where these feelings will take us.”
He waited and he couldn’t discern the expression on her face. He said…
“Do you feel it Ona—or am I wrong.”
Ona shook her head when she said…
“No…you aren’t wrong. I feel it too.”
One of her creeds spoke about idle statements and the dangers of thoughtless words. She’d always been careful to say only what she meant because once said, words couldn’t be retracted. She studied Lucien’s eyes and she could see how much her declaration had meant to him. He wasn’t just pleased; he was relieved. He looked like he’d just been freed from carrying a heavy load. Ona felt the same sense of relief and she was certain that the members in her commune wouldn’t present her with any problems. She knew what to say and how to deal with them. Yes; the word popped in her brain, because she was persuaded to believe that the idea stood a chance of succeeding. She didn’t know how it would end, but she did know when it would end.
Ona said…
“Are you sure about this? I mean—I cannot make any promises. I…I…”
She was getting flustered considering outcomes. Lucien hushed her, when he lowered his mouth to her forehead. He pressed a kiss there, then he paid equal homage on both sides of her face. The kisses were soft and gentle, yet each conveyed a fervent longing for her. When he raised his head, he lowered his lips close to her mouth. He was so close, it wouldn’t take much to kiss her.
Lucien said…
“We don’t have to figure everything out today. I love you Ona. We can do this—and I promise you; you won’t regret this.”
Her mouth hovered nearer to his, when she said…
“No…I won’t”
He smiled, then he closed the gap, sealing their agreement with a kiss.
**********
Chapter 16
What I wouldn’t do for love
“Bolden…”
Eliza screamed out his name, then her teeth bit near his collar bone. His orgasm had been so intense, he didn’t register the pain. His hold around her waist was so tight, one would think that he was hanging on for dear life, while dangling over a chasm. Whenever they made love, every act consumed an extreme amount of energy and this time was no different from the others. In public, Eliza appeared calm on the outside, but in the bedroom her persona swung in the opposite direction. She was making a humming noise and her body trembled, then she collapsed laying flat on his chest. She was lifting to disengage them, but Bolden squealed out a plea because every nerve in his body buzzed like a jar filled with bumblebees.
His jaw clenched down, distorting the sound of his words.
“Please—please—please, don’t move baby.”
Eliza was a brilliant crisis management consultant and in her business, she was one of the best. Her list of clients read like a who’s who, of wealthy powerful people, and some of those clients included the Delors and Morpheus Gustafson. Currently, her primary client was the governor of Wyoming, Andrew Wilcox. He was a political savvy man, and his aspirations went as high as the oval office. She’d had her fair-share of politicians as clients, and it came as no surprise to her, that those people had concealed embarrassing secrets. She was a professional, and nothing shocked her, but Andrew Wilcox was something entirely different. From day one, her first assignment involved years and years worth of skeletons and all of his troubles couldn’t be concealed in a closet. With a client like that, Eliza had no other choice. She’d finally confided in Bolden, but her openness wasn’t the type of revelation that nourished relationships. In fact, the line that separated their personal and professional lives didn’t seem all that clear anymore, and this unhealthy melding had created a series of complications.
Eliza waited until Bolden’s body relaxed. She rolled over, then she reached for a glass of water on the nightstand. He sat up, adjusting his eyes to read the clock. It was late, but not to late to finish the report he’d started before Eliza lured him into her bed. He was nearly out of the bed, when he felt her hand pulling on his arm.
“No…don’t go.” She said…
“I need to draft that report. You’ll want to talk to Wilcox first thing in the morning.”
“We’ll see him tomorrow night—so the report can wait.”
Bolden shifted in the bed to stare at her, and he appeared to be confused. He said…
“We just saw him this morning. Then we jumped on the plane to fly to Texas—now you’re telling me that we’re going back to Wyoming in the morning?”
Eliza nodded when she said…
“Yes. I want to see his face when I show him those emails. That man is a fool if he thinks he can continue this affair and not have the information leak out before or during an election.”
“But…is that the only reason that we’re going back? The emails?”
“No.” Her face held no expression and he’d seen this before. She would make a fortune in poker.
Bolden said…
“There’s another problem isn’t there.”
Bolden reflected on this morning, and his time spent at Andrew Wilcox’s house. He’d sat in the library while Eliza had a private conversation with her client. One of his cooks had offered Bolden a fresh danish and a cup of coffee while he waited. She also told him that she would take him to a room with a view. He’d appreciated the large windows with picturesque views but he didn’t realize that the room was right next to the area where Wilcox and Eliza had been talking. At first, the conversation didn’t interest him, until he heard a name that sounded familiar. Amy Randolph. The name had been repeated a few more times, then the conversation became heated because Eliza was blaming someone for being dangerous and impulsive. At this point, Bolden had begun to eavesdrop. He had not fully understand and now he wanted to be clear.
He said…
“Eliza…I should have said something earlier, but I didn’t…”
Eliza turned to him, and she raised one brow.
“What should you have told me?”
He didn’t like the sound of her voice, and he was beginning to think that perhaps now wasn’t a good time to discuss this.
He continued.
“Today at Wilcox’s house…I overheard parts of your conversation.”
Eliza’s face wore no expression but her eyes were like tacks, nailing him to the wall. He didn’t let her annoyance stop him.
“There’s a case that’s been getting a lot of play on the TV News. Marisela Pettier’s has filed a series of lawsuits against the city of New York. She claims that her brother, Tollin Pettier did not commit suicide, like the medical examiners report states.”
At this point, Bolden had expected Eliza to stop him and when she didn’t, he continued.
“I heard you and the governor talking about Tollin and a little girl by the name of Amy Randolph.”
He waited several seconds, because after saying the names, he was certain that she would have said something—but Eliza remained quiet, and her eyes shot a few more tacks his way. He felt the hit of each sharply pointed object, but there was something to this, and he was certain, that this had something to do with their quick turn around trip.
Bolden said…
“Eliza…if I’m going to work with you; you have to be honest and tell me…”
She shut him down when she said…
“You work for me Bolden. I thought we established that in the beginning. You work for me…and you don’t get to tell me what I should or will tell you.”
His brows furrowed but he wouldn’t be bullied, even if she was his boss.
“I checked the internet. That name…Amy Randolph—she was Andrew Wilcox’s niece. And Tollin Pettier was involved in an accident that was blamed for her death. But according to the News Reports, except for a pat on the hand…basically he walked. Then for some unknown reason, before the end of the year, Gloria Wilcox-Randolph threatened to file a civil lawsuit.”
Eliza raised her hand, and she faulted her strong feelings for him, as part of the problem. She shouldn’t have allowed him to continue. She should have ended the conversation, no matter what he believed he’d heard. There were bigger issues involved and she had to stay on top of this.
She said…
“There are some things that you know—and more that you don’t know. The first thing that you must learn in this line of work is that, when you think that you know something, more than likely, you’re completely off base. In this case—you heard a part of a conversation that I am not privy to repeat. And you also must remember—Governor Andrew Wilcox is our client. It is our job to clean up his alley—and not to judge his trash. So, whatever you think you might know—flush it down the toilet and act as if you never heard a thing.”
There were times that she could sound like a cold hearted bitch, then in the next second she would say something to overshadow her bluntness
“Bolden…lay down. Andrew doesn’t need to read emails to prove that his sloppy affairs can be easily discovered. He knows this.”
“Then why the report? Why do you have me creating files and…”
Eliza cupped that back of his head with her hand. She forcefully kissed him, and in her urging, he kissed her back. In their exchange, their tongues stroked the inner surfaces of their mouths. She moaned because in each kiss, she was falling in love and that had never been a part of the plan.
Eliza drew back, she inhaled to catch her breath. She spoke, truly meaning her words…
“I didn’t give you busy work. We will need those reports—for a number of reasons. But for now—let’s just say, that Andrew knows about the affairs, and I won’t have to force him to admit to anything.”
“And the little girl—and Tollin; what about them?”
She sighed, when she said…
&nb
sp; “It isn’t what you think Bolden. Besides…we have bigger fish to fry and we have to be done with Andrew by the end of the year.”
“Why? Why the end of the year? Already we’re working around the clock to clean up a lifetimes worth of foulups. What’s going to happen if he slips and gets in trouble during an election campaign?”
“Sweetie…we can talk about that later. Hold me.”
This was the side of her that he liked. Eliza was a powerful woman, but she wasn’t afraid to show her feminine side. He pulled her into his arms, inhaling the smell of her shampoo. When he wrapped his arms around her, she raised his hand to her lips, then she kissed his fingers. She said…
“I love your eyes.”
This wasn’t the first time that he’d heard this and he supplied his stock response.
“You’ll have to thank my mother when you meet her. Her eyes are hazel and my eyes tend to swing between green and grey. Kind of like a mood ring.”
She laughed, then she said…
“You said that your mother was at your father’s New Year’s Day party.”
“Yes” he said, and he wanted to set a date for her to meet his mother; but as usual, his wants would have to wait. Their conversation ended when her phone rang. At first he’d expected her to ignore it; given that moments earlier she’d persuaded him to stay in bed with her, instead of finishing the draft of his report. Eliza pulled free, reaching for her nightstand.
He said…
“Let it ring.”
“I can’t. Only a few people have this number and it could be important.”
Bolden turned on his side, shifting his weight to lay at an angle. He tugged the sheet to cover himself, and this gesture demonstrated his annoyance. She was whispering into the phone, and by her hush-hush tone he assumed that this was another one of her bullshit calls. More than likely another tip, that would necessitate a change in plans. For months now, he’d had his hands in some pretty underhanded shit. Unimaginable things involving, underaged girls, and secret families.
Eliza’s voiced sounded composed and clear, but when you sleep with a person, they are easier to read. Parts of their armor lay loose, or cracked, partially exposing them. He’d heard one of her cracks in her voice. It had been ever so subtle, but Bolden had heard it.
