The Sound of Salvation (Deliverance Book 1)

by I. A. Dice

  I could relate. Nadia was hiding something. It bothered me too, but I had no right to ask. Besides, if she didn’t let Nick in, I had no chance.

  “I haven’t talked to Nadia about Ethan, and Mel’s being weird.”

  “Weird how?”

  Nick shrugged, pulling his lips into a thin line. “I don’t know. I told her I don’t like it that Nadia and Ethan are going out, and she lectured me for ten minutes on how I should be happy it’s Ethan and not, for example, you.” He walked to the window, his shoulders sagging. “Why would she even mention you?”

  My question exactly. “Mel’s been trying to set them up since Nadia said she’s no longer with Adrian. I guess she brought out the big guns to convince you he’s good for your little sister.”

  He so wasn’t. This once, Nick was one hundred percent right. Ethan was a pussy, and Nadia … Nadia wasn’t a low maintenance kind of creature. She was irritating and irrational … Fucking irresistible.

  “Maybe.” He was looking out the window and although I couldn’t see his face, the sound of his voice hinted that he wasn’t convinced. “But there must be something there. Mel wouldn’t mention you out of the blue.” He turned toward me. “Is there something I should know about?” A hot sweat washed over me, and I shook my head. “She’s my sister, Thomas. She’s off-limits to you.”

  The speech. Well, a condensed version, but still. He should have thought of it sooner.

  “I know. She’s not the type to nail and run.” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “She’s the type to fall for.”

  “Damn straight she is.”

  A moment later he closed the door, leaving my office a little calmer. Unlike me. I spent the afternoon working my ass off to stay distracted.

  Nick stopped by to say goodbye a few minutes before five. He avoided me all afternoon, sensing my pissed-off mood, and an even worse attitude. He had no idea what my problem was, but knew from experience that when I was banging doors and snapping at everyone, it was a good call to steer clear.

  Marie didn’t bother knocking two minutes after Nick left. She propped her back against the door, her blue eyes roaming over my chest. She pulled her dress up, showing off her long, ivory legs.

  “You wanted to see me,” she muttered crossing her legs at the ankles while tracing the curve of her hip with a pen, giving me permission to take whatever the fuck I deemed fit.

  I crossed the room not daring to slow down or—God forbid—stop to think. I knew my mind well. It would change.

  “It won’t take long.”

  The smile on her lips told me she thought I was kidding. Nah-ah. Five minutes were all I needed to spin her around, pull her dress up her back, do my thing, and then fire her ass as soon as I readjusted my pants. But before I grabbed her waist, she rocked on her heels pushing away from the wall, and rested against me, pushing her tongue in my mouth.

  Not how I planned this, but whatever. I could spare thirty seconds for a warm-up.

  Marie pressed her back flat against the wall, tugging on my shirt. I didn’t like the way she caressed my arms, so I caught her wrists locking them in a tight grip. She moaned, biting my lip. I didn’t like that, either. It was different, and not at all a good different compared to the way Nadia nibbled on my lips. The sounds Marie made were annoying the hell out of me too, because they were nothing like Nadia’s sweet gasps.

  Focus, Thomas! Marie spreading her legs.

  Nadia’s smile. The sweet orchid and citrus smell of her perfume. Long, dark-brown hair blown away from her face by the wind.

  Marie spreading her legs.

  Nadia’s petite, delicate body. Her laughter. The way her hand fit into mine with our fingers interlocked.

  Marie spreading her legs.

  Nadia’s full lips. Her taste. Her trembling beneath me. Brown eyes, looking at me with nothing short of serenity.

  “Get out,” I seethed, breaking away from the blonde bimbo.

  I clenched my fists, chest heaving. Anger and frustration hung over me like storm clouds, threatening to unleash.

  Marie watched me, flustered, shocked and panting. She opened her mouth to talk, but I only had enough self-restrain left to wait another twenty-seven seconds before I would toss the first thing I could get my hands on; I stopped her from wording a less-than-bright question.

  “Get the fuck out of my office, or I’ll fire you before you say what.”

  She stood frozen, as if expecting me to drop the act and get back to making out, but as much as I wanted it to be an act, it wasn’t. Cold-blooded fury consumed me whole, my mind like a ticking bomb.

  Marie reconsidered, and then shot me a you’re fucking nuts kind of look before retreating out of my office.

  For fifteen seconds, I listened to the rhythmical clanking of her heels on the marble floor as she hurried down the corridor. When I could no longer hear anything other than my rapid heartbeat and the sound of my blood boiling, I allowed the emotions to take over.

  Trashing my office took three minutes.

  I stood in the centre of the room looking at the mess. My desk was upside down; documents littered the floor. A painting I had put my fist through no longer hung on the wall, and the screen on my laptop was cracked in four places. To top it off, I probably broke my hand smashing it against the wall.

  Good job, Thomas. Way to stay cool.

  I walked over to the window, my breathing erratic as if I had just run a marathon. That was a close enough description of how I felt after destroying my office.

  Jesus, I was losing it. Losing it over a girl. A girl who wasn’t any prettier than the herds of blondes willing to spread their legs at my sight. A girl who wasn’t even my type. Her hair wasn’t blonde, her boobs were too small, and she was short, to put it nicely. Yet, she was the most beautiful girl I ever saw. Flawless, delicate, hypnotising.

  I rested my hands on the windowsill looking out to London’s city centre. Thousands of people lived through their problems right before my eyes. They looked like ants from where I stood, but each one of those ants had a mind of its own, a life of its own, and a problem of its own. Whether it was a love-related drama, work-related drama or some other kind of drama, they all had issues that kept their minds occupied.

  I used to pity the fools who dwelled on one thing. It was neither a healthy nor a smart thing to do. I was done pitying since I had been the one to dwell on a petite brunette for the past five ridiculously long days.

  Like hell I’ll be the guy who loses his shit over some chick.

  For the next ten minutes I coached myself to not lose it over Nadia ever again. Just as her name entered my mind, her face flashed up, and those huge brown eyes of hers stared at me, ripping my soul open. A face that belonged to a girl who wasn’t mine and would never be mine. A face of a girl able to bring out the best of me with one fucking touch.

  A girl who didn’t want me.

  My eyes fell shut as a wave of blinding frustration took over.

  Yeah, excuse me while I lose my shit again.

  CHAPTER 10

  NADIA

  Guilty as charged

  I hoped never to get married. Watching Amelia panic every step of the way scarred me for life. If that was what brides turned into while planning their weddings, then I wanted nothing to do with it. She wasn’t far off from turning grey, worrying about the tiniest details and weeping whenever things didn’t go according to plan.

  A meeting with the band closed the schedule of week one. Week one. There were six more to go, and I wasn’t sure if I could handle Amelia’s craziness that long.

  After a few failures earlier in the week, i.e. the florist struggled to locate the roses in a specific shade of pink Amelia chose; the bridesmaid dresses required a lot of work, and the handmade invitations had the wrong coloured bows attached, we hit a jackpot with the band. The lead singer was more than accommodating, agreeing with everything Mel said before she finished her sentence. He knew who the groom was, and he probably hoped for a
record deal if things went well.

  Whatever the reason, I was grateful as it put her in a good mood, which meant I didn’t have to listen to her whining while we shopped around for furniture to put in my apartment.

  The painters finished the night before, and I convinced Nick to help me move my things there. He wasn’t too happy to let me go, especially since I didn’t even have a bed, but after much convincing, he caved.

  “Look at this!” Mel ran further into the furniture store, stopping in front of a chair that hung from the ceiling on a silver chain. “Buy it! Imagine reading a book in this!” She clapped once, but her smile slipped when I shot her a sceptical look.

  “Buzzkill,” she muttered, moving toward the dining room section. “You need a table. And speaking of tables … housewarming party tomorrow?”

  “No, the place is empty, I need to furnish it first, and even if we could pull it off in twenty-four hours, tomorrow is Saturday, and Ethan is supposed to take me out. We’ll have the party next weekend.”

  “Buzzkill!” she twirled louder this time. “Again, while we’re on the subject … What’s up with you and Thomas? You guys had a fight?”

  She just had to remind me. All this time I was doing so well ignoring his existence. It helped that he wasn’t around.

  I pulled my eyebrows together. “How is that on the subject? And we didn’t fight. Why?”

  She shrugged, pretending to examine canary-yellow, plastic chairs. “He hasn’t been around. Usually not a day goes by without him coming over. He’s avoiding you, and I want to know why.”

  “Ask him.”

  I moved away, noting down the pick-up locations for the table and chairs. Amelia followed, careful not to step on any toes, or push over kids that were running among the shoppers.

  “I’m asking you.”

  “No, we didn’t fight.” I lowered my voice. “But I told him I won’t sleep with him again.”

  “He wanted to sleep with you again?!” she exclaimed, and heads turned our way. “Sorry,” she added, her cheeks pink.

  If looks could kill, she would have bled out on the cream sofa that stood next to us. I moved along, glancing right and left, looking for something that would catch my eye, while Amelia trailed behind me.

  “How about this one?” She pointed to a dark green corner sofa, then took my arm and steered me to the least crowded space. “Why didn’t you tell me he wants you again?”

  “I don’t know; I didn’t consider it headline news.”

  “It is! He never sleeps with any girl twice, Nadia. Not only are you the complete opposite of his type, but he also still wants you when he already had you! He’s breaking all his rules.”

  She acted as if Thomas grew a second head. Her excitement took me aback. No longer than five days earlier she wanted me to stay away from him, and now she looked ready to shut the door behind us.

  “So? What are you going to do? I can tell you regret saying no. You’ve been daydreaming all week.”

  I crossed my hands glaring at a white wing chair. I must have looked pathetic through her eyes since she had no idea that sex wasn’t what I wanted from Thomas most. It was just a bonus. All she knew was that we had sex, and I wanted more.

  Yeah, pathetic.

  “If you don’t mind that it’s just sex, why don’t you do it again? I mean, I would rather see you in a relationship with a decent guy, but if Thomas’s bad boy charm is what you want, then go for it.”

  That was the problem, his bad boy charm was all I needed. I missed his lips, his touch and how normal he made me feel.

  The pills still worked the same, but comparing the calmness they provided to the calmness I felt when I was with Thomas did, it was clear I wasn’t taking enough diazepam. I couldn’t take more, either. Stopping the meds was my goal, but it looked like instead I was ready to dive head-first into a different addiction.

  “You’re trying to heal a broken heart, so I’ll forgive you,” Mel said, touching my arm.

  “You’re wrong. This has nothing to do with Adrian.”

  Liar, liar.

  It did, but not in the way Amelia thought. I wasn’t trying to heal a broken heart. I was trying to regain my peace, move forward and forget about the past. And Thomas was making it so much easier.

  Mel raised her eyebrow as if to say yeah, right. “So? Round two with Mr. Calix, is it? What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “Nick can find out. I can’t do it. I don’t want to dig myself into a deeper hole. I’m already head deep, anyway."

  “Ethan it is. I guess he’ll get friend-zoned tomorrow big time.”

  I nodded, then moved along, noting down the pick-up location for the white wing chair.

  ***

  Ethan got friend-zoned before we left my apartment. He acted understanding, but I knew he was as disappointed as he was annoyed. Still, he agreed not to treat the evening like a date.

  There was nothing wrong with him—intelligent, handsome, polite. Sugar, spice and everything nice … But he lacked chemical X.

  We spent the evening in his favourite bar, playing pool, drinking Coronas and not really talking. It seemed that he lost all interest in me.

  I kicked his ass, winning eight out of the ten games we played. Pool was my game. Nick and I had a table at home when we were growing up, and we used to play every day. Whenever he won, Nick had me serve him food. I made him stay up all night with me watching movies.

  “I hope you had fun and that we can do it again sometime,” Ethan said, stopping the car outside of my apartment past nine o’clock.

  It sounded forced, and I couldn’t help the disappointment gnawing at me. We were friends for a long time, and now it looked like he was nice because he wanted to get in my pants.

  “Sure,” I said, although we both knew it wouldn't happen. “I’m throwing a housewarming party next Saturday, and you’re invited.”

  He smiled, watching me for a moment with parted lips. I waited for whatever was to come. An uncomfortable silence that settled around us, then magnified ten times when Ethan’s gaze dropped to my lips. A cold shiver ran down my spine. I found myself glued to the spot, too surprised to form a coherent sentence. I guess he took it as consent, because he started closing the distance. His warm breath fanned my face, and I jerked back, forcing him to retreat.

  “I’m sorry.” He dropped his gaze to the steering wheel. There was nothing apologetic about that sorry. “You said no dates. I just… I like you, cutie. I have been waiting for a chance with you for a long time.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can ignore what I said earlier. I was honest with you, Ethan. I’m not ready to date and considering how long we’ve known each other I thought–”

  “The problem is,” he cut in, “that I don’t want to be just your friend. I never did, but there was always something or someone. Now we’re both on the same page. You agreed to go out with me.”

  I couldn’t believe him. Did he think he could force a date on me? Or better yet, guilt me into kissing him? Good luck.

  “We’re not on the same page. I’m sorry if I mislead you. Goodnight.”

  Great. Just great. As if I weren’t dealing with enough shit, Ethan had to add a little more to the pile. I watched him drive away, until he turned right at the end of the street, disappearing out of view.

  I took my phone out to tell Mel, as promised, how the evening went.

  “Don’t tell me you’re done already,” she said. “What happened? Oh, wait. Can I put you on speaker phone? Nick wants to know too.”

  Of course. Why wouldn’t he? Every sane, mentally stable brother wants to know every detail about his sister’s life. Not.

  “There’s nothing to tell, but sure, put me on speaker.”

  At least like this he would hear it all from me and not get a twisted version from Mel.

  “Okay, fire away,” Mel said. “Why are you back home so early? Because you are, aren’t you? He didn’t just leave you alone at the bar, right?”

  I
entered the building, the sound of my heels echoing in the empty corridor. “No, he didn’t. And I’m home early because Ethan’s not happy with me. He’s pissed off, but so am I. I guess we’re even.”

  “What did he do?” Nick growled.

  “Nothing that should upset me. He’s a guy who waited five years for tonight.”

  I entered the apartment and sighed, seeing the mess. Cardboard boxes, bags filled with shopping and general mayhem. I was so not in the mood for unpacking, but with zero plans for the rest of the evening, I left my bag in the kitchen, ready to work.

  “That doesn’t tell us much. Was he pushy? Did he offend you? What happened, Nadia?” Mel sounded impatient, and I could imagine Nick wasn’t any better.

  “Did he offend me?” I chuckled, balancing on one leg to take my shoes off in front of the mirror. “It’s not great to find out that a guy I have known for so long acted nice just because he wanted to sleep with me, but I wouldn’t say I’m offended. Annoyed? Yes. Maybe even upset, but only because I got all dressed up and I’m back home already.”

  “Should I be concerned? You don’t sound good,” Nick whined, getting closer to the phone as he spoke. “Do you want me to come over?”

  “No, I’m fine, but you’re welcome here tomorrow. I could use some help to get this place in shape.”

  If there was one thing Nick hated with a passion, then DIY stuff was it, but Mel agreed to pop in sometime in the afternoon, and I knew she would drag Nick along despite his protests.

  I cut the call and changed my mind about unpacking. It could wait. Instead, I plugged in a large Bluetooth speaker, then searched my playlists for something that would lift my mood.

  For the last few months music was ever present in my life, filling up the silence or drowning out my screaming mind. Since singing took my mind off problems, the speaker was the first thing I bought.

  Take Shelter by Years and Years filled the silence twenty minutes later, when I got the speaker to pair with my phone. Standing by the kitchen island, I sang along and swayed to the music, lining the evening dose of pills on the countertop starting from the smallest, only to pass time before the chorus started so I could dance across the kitchen to the sink. But when I swirled around, I froze.