by Shayne Ford
It takes me a while before I realize that his wife's name is never connected to his name, and they are almost never, together, or the headline of the same story.
I spot her on a couple of occasions. Every time I see her, I grapple with a sickening feeling. My reaction is inexplicable as much as is unjustified.
Turmoil marks the end of the year.
As much as I love winter and the holiday season, Christmas turns out o be an uneventful day, and New Year’s Eve slips by in a blink of an eye.
My workload increases by mid-January, my days becoming busier, yet at the same time emptier, gray and dark like the weather outside.
It’s close to four o’clock on a Monday afternoon when I leave Luna curled up in her comfy bed, pull on a coat and sneak outside.
Harsh weather greets me. Foggy streets, dark sky, and wet sidewalks. Freshly sifted snow dusts the pavement. Walking briskly, I cross the park, once in a while running into a neighbor.
I welcome the sight of the small shops and the coffeehouse on the other side of the park. Cheeks bitten by the cold air, and lips quivering, I swing the door open and enter the coffeehouse.
The warmth greeting me is a nice change.
I order a caffe latte to go and walk out the shop. Once on the street, I take a sip, enjoying for a moment the perfect balance between the aromatic espresso and the warm steamed milk. I ponder which way to go before I make a beeline for the bookstore.
It’s a medium-sized space packed with books of all genres. A small section brims with vintage pieces. I browse the titles while drinking coffee, not looking for anything in particular, just enjoying the feel of hardcovers beneath my fingertips, the scent of old paper filling my nostrils.
Casually, I glance around.
Aside from me, there are two other customers in the store when the doorbell chimes and someone else walks in.
The place becomes quiet again, only the hum of a conversation carried over the counter between a client and the store clerk echoing in the background.
I’m too far from the front to get a glimpse of the new client, already cruising into an adjacent room where I get lost between the book racks.
For the next moments, the silence becomes my only company.
The aroma of another swig of coffee rolls over my taste buds.
“Hey,” says a soft voice behind my back.
I slowly turn around, my hand trembling slightly. My heart pounding in my ears.
Our eyes lock the moment I fill my gaze with him.
“Hey...” I breathe out, my voice soft and shaky.
Without breaking our stare, I set my cup of coffee on a shelf and hide my trembling fingers.
He has no coat on, only a dark business suit, similar to the one he fashioned that night at the restaurant. The neckline of his shirt is open, revealing his sculpted neck and part of his collarbones.
He watches me in silence as I study him.
Caught between the book racks, graced only by the soft light coming from the ceiling, we read each other eyes, my mind hungrily absorbing his handsome features.
“What are you doing here?” I ask the sensible question.
My words float in the air for a moment.
He seems in no hurry to answer my question, and I’m in no rush to hear his explanation. All I want right is to learn his face.
Slowly my eyes trace his high cheekbones, and the masculine line of his jaw, the smooth silk of his lips, and his penetrating eyes. His dark hair combed back.
Dark jade light pours from his eyes.
“I wanted to see you,” he says softly, so naturally.
He sounds sincere. Despite the circumstances.
Our eyes stay linked for a moment as I gather my thoughts and push back the lump forming in my throat.
“I’m sorry... But I can’t see you,” I mutter, with only a few words denying myself everything that I want.
“Why?”
His voice beams with genuine wonder.
Smiling, I looked down briefly.
“I can’t afford to feel for you the way I feel.”
One step erases the gap between us completely.
Tenderly he grips my chin and tips it up, his eyes boring into mine.
“How do you feel, Tess?”
Our eyes dance together for a moment. His glimmering with a knowing smile. Mine widening, filled with panic.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” I ask with a strained voice.
His grin widens a little.
“Doing what, Tess?”
“Messing with a woman’s mind?”
“What makes you say that?” he asks.
The grin tilting his lips, I’d like to respond, but I lose that thought as he tenderly cups my face, the warmth of his palm seeping into my skin.
A different thought makes me suddenly jerk back, jamming myself into the rack. His fingers fall from my face, shot.
“Please leave,” I say sternly.
The warmth of his smile gets wiped away from his face, a shadow lining his gaze.
A different man looks at me. Dark, cold, and calculated.
A different grin slides to his lips as well. Twisted and bitter.
It frightens me a little.
“You won’t be able to fight me,” he says with a quiet, deep voice, his words sounding implacable like a verdict.
A smirk tilts his lips when he notices my hesitation, making my blood boil.
“I am, and I have,” I say, pushing angry words through gritted teeth.
“That’s because you don’t know much,” he says, pulling closer to me again.
“What do you mean?” I ask, irritated and puzzled at the same time.
It’s hard to tell whether it’s arrogance that talks in him, or he’s just bluffing.
My back hits the book rack again as I lean back, in retreat. His hands come to my neck, his fingers snaking around my flesh, crushing the blood pulsing beneath my skin.
He tilts his head down and brings his lips closer to mine, his nostrils flaring with pleasure as he senses the tension of my body, and the ongoing battle inside me.
His touch scares me, and gives me pleasure at the same time, making me question my sanity.
“Everything you see is nothing but a lie,” he says, a dark grin sitting his lips.
“And that includes you,” I toss back at him, holding his eyes defiantly.
His hands tense around my neck, threatening my air supply. I part my lips and gasp. And then he does the unthinkable.
The most unexpected thing.
He lets his lips meet mine, crushing them quickly as his thumbs sink into my neck.
The pain ignited by his touch cannot diminish all the pleasure spurred in me.
His tongue touches mine, giving it a hot, sensual stroke.
Right then and there, the time freezes and the reality warps.
I’m no longer the woman who lives in the beautiful home across the park, sunk in a different world every day, playing words and images in my head, and stretching my imagination, but the woman who wants to have her legs wrapped around this man’s hips.
My lips part instinctively, giving him more access. We instantly connect into a silent, deep kiss, that speaks of so much hunger on both sides. Invisible paths of pleasure get fired up, drawing our bodies closer together.
A moan bounces against the ceiling of my mouth as I desperately grab his arms to keep myself from falling.
He props me with his hips as well, pouring more fire into me. My soft knit dress and the smooth wool of his pants cannot conceal that growing feeling between us.
Rock-hard, he presses into me, making no secret of what he’d like to do to me. Any trace of common sense removed, I slide my hand down and feel him up, cupping his bulge.
His kiss deepens as I stroke him through his pants, his tongue thrusting into my mouth, sliding against mine, arousing me so quickly. I want to rip the clothes off him.
My grip hardens on his shaft, just as the
doorbell rings again, and another customer walks into the store.
The sound jolts me out of the trance.
Horrified, I realize what we were doing.
He watches me with heavy eyes, his lips swollen bearing my taste still, his breath rolling fast.
I don’t need words to understand. I don’t need to see his eyes to feel the hunger in him. I don’t need to even be with him to learn that my body cries for him. The same way his body is barely holding back from taking me.
If this weren’t a store, a public space, he would’ve had me and broken me under his body.
The thought itself, the fact that I have such an effect on him, feeds the wild need barreling through me.
It takes an extraordinary effort to push him away. I step to the side when he grabs my wrist and spins me back to him.
His mouth crashes on mine, melting my lips, firing up my body.
“Sebastien!” I growl in his mouth, his hunger growing unstoppable.
I bite his lip and push him back for the second time, the taste of his blood staying with me as I break away from him, and run out of the store, dazed.
6
TESS
“Tess?”
The woman I’ve stumbled into as I was running down the street, turns around and looks at me surprised.
The back of my hand sweeps my mouth, wiping away any trace of blood from my lips.
“Anna?”
She looks at me baffled.
I am as puzzled as she is.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“I’m tutoring a kid in that building,” she says pointing across the street. “I told you that I’d started this new thing on the side. Don’t you remember?”
I suck in a short breath.
“Yeah, yeah. I remember. I’m sorry. I was just... Never mind,” I mutter, smiling at the same time, hoping to erase the impression I have left on her.
“What happened to you?” she asks, running her eyes down on me.
My cheeks burn. My hair must be in disarray.
I comb it back with trembling fingers and take another sharp breath.
“Where were you?”
Spinning awkwardly, I gesture to the street.
“The bookstore. I was looking for a rare edition of a book, and then I got caught up in reading, and I remembered that I was late.”
Lying has become my second nature lately.
“Is everything okay? Your face is flushed.”
“I’m hot,” I say jokingly.
She smiles.
“I don’t know how you can be hot when I’m freezing my butt off,” she says, stomping the ground with her boots.
“Would you like to come over to my house?” I ask.
“Are you sure?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Where’s Allan?”
“Working.”
“Is he still having that crazy traveling schedule?”
“Yup.”
I loop my arm through hers and spin with her toward the intersection.
“Money is good?” she asks as we cross the street.
“Yes, it is, but he doesn’t do it only for the money. He’s eyeing a promotion this year.”
“Mmm... He’s climbing the ladder.”
“Yeah, you can say that. He likes his work.”
She shoots me a side glance.
“I’m okay either way,” I say as we enter the park.
“You don’t mind him being gone for so long?”
“I have my own stuff to do,” I say, smiling. “Besides, even when he’s home, he’s stuck in his office. We don’t do much stuff together.”
A gust of wind whips our faces.
She snuggles into me.
“By stuff you mean...?”
My lips curve into a mysterious grin.
“Everything.”
She starts chuckling.
I laugh as well.
“I guess, you can’t have everything,” I mutter.
“Yes you can,” she says.
I flick my hand up.
“Trust me. I don’t spend much time thinking about it.”
I stay quiet, no longer in the mood to talk about him.
A few minutes later, we enter my home.
“Are you hungry? I have soup. It’s really good,” I say as I peel off my coat.
She sheds off her muffler.
“I can have a bowl of soup. I’m still cold,” she says shivering as she shrugs out of her coat.
I bring her a sweater before I change my clothes. Dressed in sweatpants and a long sleeve T-shirt, I re-enter the kitchen. I warm up the soup, fill two bowls, and lead her to the living room. She takes a seat on the couch while I turn on the TV, set the sound low and shift my eyes back to her.
“This is really good,” she says, a dash of color finally rolling onto her cheeks.
“I’m glad you like it.”
She takes another mouthful of creamy potatoes soup when her eyes shift to the TV.
Her chin tips in that direction too.
“Your guy is on TV again,” she says.
“What guy?” I ask, intrigued, my lips creasing into a grin.
I pivot slightly and turn my eyes to the TV.
My mouth drops open.
The man on screen pivots to someone at his right, the camera missing his face.
“Where exactly is he?” Anna asks.
“Some business conference...?” I murmur as my gaze sweeps the crowd.
But how can he be?
I toss my bowl on the table and spring out of the couch, looking for the remote control. The air vibrates with the speaker’s voice.
“Sebastien Rockford and Jacqueline Monroe, the heiress to her late father’s empire met today with leaders to discuss important aspects of the new business climate...”
The anchor’s voice becomes a hum as I take Sebastien in with wide, incredulous eyes.
“When was that?” I murmur, the blood drawing from my body.
“It’s Live,” says Anna, not registering my shock. “It say’s right there on the screen. It started at 5 PM.”
“How can that be...?” I mumble, voicing the pestering thought.
He was in that bookstore with me half an hour ago.
I move closer to the screen, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, yet all the camera reveals is his profile and the back of his neck.
Craving the spotlight, Jacqueline ensures that she gets all the video coverage. Clad in a dark skirt business suit and a frothy white shirt, she flicks her hair over her shoulder, flashing a magnetic smile.
The cameraman loves the show she puts up for everybody else and doesn’t move the spotlight away from her.
This must’ve streamed online as well.
I toss the remote on the sofa and head to my office. I come back, my laptop in my hand.
“What are you searching for?” she asks as I flip the laptop open and set it on the table.
I lower myself on the couch.
“I want to check something.”
I find the video stream on one of the media social accounts and give it a replay, searching specifically for that time window when we met.
The clock on the screen indicates the very moment when he walked into that store. I study the image streaming from the conference closely.
The camera does a couple of long shots, missing the corner where he sat, and then it focuses on the speaker, the owner of a steel factory.
“Fuck...” I mutter, disappointed.
I fast forward to the moment when I met Anna, and we started to walk back home.
“How far is the Business Center?” I ask, spinning my mind for an answer.
“Not far,” she says, as she finishes eating. “A five, ten-minute car ride.”
Incredulously, I look at the clip playing on my screen.
How could he possibly know that I was in that store?
My attention shifts back to the live event streaming on my TV. A round
of applause signals the end, the camera focusing on Sebastien.
I recognize his suit jacket and his shirt, only this time the neckline is buttoned up, a dark green tie closing it, and matching his eyes.
Stunned, I watch him as he rises to his feet and utters a few words at the conclusion of the meeting.
His white shirt sets a perfect contrast to his dark jacket, a mysterious smile veiling his lips. His grin reaches his eyes, coloring his gaze.
I jerk out of my seat and move closer to the TV as I notice the small dark mark on his lip.
“I’ll be damned,” I murmur while trying to make sense of things.
“What happened?” Anna asks.
“Um... nothing,” I say evading her eyes. “The man just drives me crazy,” I say, slipping a shred of humor in my voice and trying to distract her. “Do you want some tea?” I ask as I collect the bowls.
“Yes, sure. Tea would be good.”
“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” I say, taking a few steps toward the door.
The image on TV shifts again, offering a close up of his wife. Standing by his side, she grins from ear to ear, the sight of her putting a knife in my heart.
There is a distance between them, not only physical, her smile and the attention he pretends to give her trying to conceal it.
A dark, twisted feeling courses through me as I watch their little dog and pony show.
Tormented, I exit the room still grappling with that nagging thought.
How did he know that I was in that bookstore?
Private number: Watch.
I do a double take before I slide my phone into my purse, and shift my gaze back to the speaker.
The networking event is well underway.
My phone vibrates again.
Private number: Watch. You need to see it.
I tuck the phone under the table and secretly type.
Me: I’m not home.
I wait for a few moments before I send another message.
Me: I’m sure you already know that. You always know where I am.
The phone stays dead for the rest of the morning. I power it off and on, suspecting a glitch of sorts, but no more messages pop up.
The event ends with a business lunch that I graciously skip. I put my coat on, collect my purse, and head home.
