Torn (Torn Series, Book 1)

by Melody Anne

  He shakes his head and won’t accept it. “I’m a personal driver for Mr. Alexander. The pay is taken care of,” he says.

  Is it odd he picked me up? Doesn’t he have more important people to take care of? I’m certainly not going to ask Paul. I thank him, grab my bag, and walk inside the private terminal. It’s a beautiful building.

  A woman shows me to the back door and when I walk outside I’m stunned again at what I see. A huge white jet waits, the stairs down, carpet running to them. She’s leading me to it while someone else takes my bag and pushes it to the back of the jet where a loader is waiting.

  “This is what we’re flying in?” I ask, feeling quite intimidated.

  The girl laughs just as Paul did. “Yeah, she’s a beauty. I see a lot of private jets come in and out of here. It’s more fun to work in this area than the main terminal, and this jet is one of the nicer ones. I’ve been inside and you’re in for a real treat. Too bad it’s such a short flight.”

  “How long does it take?” I ask.

  “Only about an hour and a half,” she says as if it was a sin to fly that short distance in this beautiful machine.

  “I’ve never flown on a private jet. I flew first class to Hawaii for my honeymoon what feels like forever ago, but other than that I . . .” My words trail off. I really don’t know what I’m trying to say.

  “I totally get it. I’ve worked here for five years, and I’ve seen the inside of a lot of these jets, but I’ve never gone anywhere on one. Someday . . .” she finishes wistfully. I want to promise I’ll get her a ride, but I might not want to promise things I have no chance of delivering on.

  I thank her for her help then step into the large jet. I hear voices and follow the sound. Dell and Jenny are already on the jet, drinks in their hands, their heads close together as they laugh about something. I approach them, hoping I don’t look as awestruck as I feel.

  The jet is decorated in creams and soft blues. It looks classy yet comfortable. A table and chairs are secured to the floor in the back of the main room. There are also several comfortable chairs and couches with tables beside or in front of them. Work can easily be done while we’re flying.

  “I’m Janice. Go ahead and take any seat,” a young woman wearing a pretty blue dress says. “What can I get you to drink?”

  “I’ll . . . uh . . . have a water I guess,” I answer.

  “No way. It’s not a work night. Get a pink margarita. I promise you they’re to die for,” Dell calls out. He sounds as if he’s had a few of those already.

  “I guess I’ll take that,” I tell the Janice. She smiles and disappears.

  “What are the two of you laughing about?” I ask.

  Jenny giggles. “Oh, Dell was just telling me about how he’d been installing a new stereo in his truck, and his three-year-old son was helping him. Dell didn’t pay attention for maybe five minutes, and when he looked up, his side mirror was gone. His son had figured out how to use the screwdriver and disassembled the thing that quickly. Dell was so proud of him for figuring it out that the boy didn’t get in trouble.” Jenny laughs.

  I join them in laughter. There’s a small tug in my tummy as Dell continues telling stories of his children. I’m beginning to realize I won’t ever be a mother. It wouldn’t be right to bring a child into the world when I’m not sure my marriage will survive. And though I’m far from ancient, I can practically feel my time clock ticking away. Maybe I’m too selfish to have a child. I honestly don’t know.

  The rest of the crew joins us over the next half hour and somehow I manage to drink two of the pink margaritas. I have no idea what’s in them, but Dell’s right, they’re delicious. I’m feeling pretty good when Kaden steps into the jet.

  I look at him and his eyes spark the slightest bit. I must show some of my feelings, because he instantly responds. I set my drink down and decide it might not be the best idea for me to get tipsy when I’m around this man. I can’t afford to let down my defenses.

  “Is everybody ready?” he asks as he tears his gaze from me and looks at the rest of the group.

  “More than ready, Boss,” Dell says.

  “Then let’s get this bird in the air.” He walks to the front of the jet and I let out a sigh of relief. As long as I stay with the pack I’ll be fine. I pick my drink up again. A little liquid courage to get through this flight is just what the doctor ordered.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Then

  Mason and I were finally going to one of those gala nights I once dreamed of. I was excited as I put on a beautiful blue dress that hugged my curves and made me feel sophisticated and sexy at the same time. I took care with my hair and makeup. My husband was the star of the evening and I wanted him to be proud to have me on his arm.

  I didn’t let him see me until I was completely finished. When I walked into the living room to join him he smiled, smoothly walking to me. That familiar tug in my stomach was back after a long absence. I wanted to scrap the entire night and go back into the bedroom and make love like we used to.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, bending and giving me a quick kiss on the lips. He pulled back before I could wrap my arms around him. That tingling instantly evaporated as I felt his rejection. It shouldn’t. He said the right words, even kissed me, but he seemed distracted.

  “Thank you. You look quite devastating in your suit. You’re wearing my favorite tie,” I said as I reached up and adjusted it. Maybe he was just nervous about the show. That made sense. Of course he was. His paintings had gone up in value and this night could be a big night for him.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I waited for him to hold out his arm, but he didn’t, he just turned and walked toward the garage. I followed him, forcing myself to keep the smile on my lips. He had a lot on his mind. It was going to be fine.

  He forgot to hold the car door open for me, but we had been married a long time. Maybe those sort of courtesies eventually died. I didn’t want them to, though. Those are the gestures that made me feel special, desired, loved. I’d always appreciated how much he cared about me, how he anticipated my needs. I didn’t know what was happening to us, but I didn’t like it.

  We remained silent as we drove to the gallery. We were an hour early and only the employees were there, but it was beautifully set up. Mason’s artwork hung everywhere, and I wandered around looking at the pieces. I’d seen most of them, but there were a few I hadn’t seen him working on. He was growing slightly edgier, a little darker in his work.

  I liked it.

  After a while the room’s lighting muted, making the lights on the key paintings really stand out. Tables were set and waiters were ready to carry appetizers and drinks to patrons. The room began to fill.

  I lost sight of Mason as I talked to potential buyers who told me they were impressed with the show. It was interesting that people either loved it or hated it. There wasn’t a lot of in-between. A good two hours passed without me seeing Mason. I was sure he was speaking with clients.

  I began to look for him. I found him in one of the smaller rooms of the gallery speaking with a petite blonde. Jealousy stirred in my gut as she laughed, throwing her head back slightly, giving him an enticing view of her neck. She reached out and placed her perfectly manicured pink fingernails on his dark suit jacket, and he smiled at her.

  Jealousy ripped through me. I didn’t care if he was trying to sell his paintings. That wasn’t appropriate. I wanted to scratch the woman’s eyes out, but I took a few deep breaths, grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter, and took my time approaching them.

  “I’d love to see where you make these incredible creations,” the woman crooned as I walked up.

  “Ah, that’s only for the most special of clients,” Mason told her. My rage rose. His voice was far too flirty. Had I been wrong about him? Had he been cheating on me? That was foolish;
he was simply being a good salesman.

  “Yes, only the most special get to see the studio,” I said, proud of how calm I sounded as I approached.

  The woman turned a dismissive eye to me before focusing on Mason again. I put my arm through his, earning an assessing look from her. Neither of us wore our rings. I don’t know when we stopped wearing them. Strange.

  “I’m Miranda, Mason’s wife.” I held out my free hand.

  To the woman’s credit, she didn’t react to my words. Mason didn’t either. I couldn’t tell if he thought my entry was an intrusion or not, but if he did, he shouldn’t. I was his wife and had the right to be at his side.

  “I’m Bella,” the woman said, giving me the tips of her fingers for only the briefest of seconds. “I was just telling Mason how impressed I am. I have an exclusive clientele that loves original pieces. They love to find up-and-coming artists, buying some of their earlier work before they go viral. It makes them feel as if they can spot true talent, which to be honest, they are very good at.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bella,” I said. It wasn’t a pleasure at all, but if she could help make Mason’s dreams come true then I was more than willing to put on a fake smile and talk to her. I’d just keep my eye on her. There was something I didn’t trust about her.

  “You as well,” she said, before turning from me. She was clearly done communicating with the wife. “I will definitely talk with you more,” she told Mason, her voice softening just enough to make me want to punch her in her perfect cosmetically enhanced nose.

  She held out a card, letting her fingers drag along his palm as she left it with him. I clung more tightly to his arm. Bella walked away. I watched the sway of her hips, too scared to look at Mason to see if he was doing the same. The woman was beautiful. I could see how she was successful at selling expensive pieces of art. She was an art piece herself.

  “Are you having a good time?” he asked.

  The flirtatiousness was out of his tone as he looked at me. He didn’t seem irritated, only incredibly tired.

  “It’s been a beautiful night. How are you doing?” I reached up and ran a finger along his strong jawline, then over his bottom lip. He normally kissed my finger when I did that, but not tonight.

  “I’m tired,” he said. “It’s been a lot of talking.”

  There was no one else in the room with us, so I moved to stand in front of him. I wrapped my arms around him and stood on my toes so I could kiss his lips. He kissed me back, but he seemed too distracted to really enjoy it.

  “How about we go home? The crowd has definitely thinned.” I pressed up against him so he was clear what I wanted.

  He looked at me and I was relieved that a slight sparkle entered his eyes. He wrapped an arm around my back and tugged me closer. This was my husband. This was the man I wanted to be with forever.

  “The gallery did say it was good for me to make a timely exit,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up.

  Excitement began building in my stomach again. I refused to let go of his hand as he found the gallery owner and told her we were leaving. She promised to have numbers to him within a couple of days then said goodbye. We snuck away.

  We made small talk on the way home and he told me about some of the exciting people he met with. He said Bella’s name a few too many times and I had to fight to keep my smile in place. I assured myself he’d forget all about Bella by the time we got home.

  We arrived home and moved into the bedroom and made love. But it wasn’t what I expected. It was slow and sweet, and he was more attentive than he’d been in a while, but he was distracted. It took him a while to get hard. It took him a while to come. I was left feeling very unsatisfied even if I did have an orgasm.

  When we turned over to go to sleep, it felt as if he pulled away from me. Was I pulling away from him as well? I didn’t allow myself to think about it. Maybe ignorance was bliss.

  Our rut seemed to be getting deeper, and I didn’t know how to stop it from turning into a canyon.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Now

  The trip to Vegas passes in a flash. The team’s excited to arrive. Tomorrow is going to be a long day as we want our presentation to go smoothly. There’s nothing for us to do until morning, though. So Dell convinces Kaden to take us out for a night on the town. I think that’s a very bad idea, but the rest of the team is in, so I am too, unless I want to stay behind alone. That’s not an appealing thought.

  A large Hummer SUV picks us up from the airport and takes us to the hotel that’s building the conference center. It’s off the Vegas strip and is stunningly beautiful with a long circular driveway lined with fountains and a giant lagoon. The amount of money coming into this desert town boggles my mind.

  I’m smashed up against Kaden’s side for the thankfully short ride to the hotel and I find myself barely able to breathe. His arm is flung over the back of the seat as he leans over me to speak to Dell, who’s chatting about which of the shows are the best to see. He hasn’t seen the Michael Jackson One show, and everyone agrees it’s a must-see.

  As much as I want to see a show, I’m unable to participate in the conversation because every time I inhale, all the air I take in is full of Kaden’s scent. He doesn’t seem to be distracted by being pressed so close to me; it’s as if his leg touching mine isn’t noticeable. I certainly can feel every inch of his body.

  I practically bolt from the limo when the back door opens. I trample over bodies, but everyone is so gleeful about the trip no one seems to think anything of it. I catch Kaden’s eyes and there’s a knowing awareness in his expression that tells me he noticed more than I realized on our ride.

  It’s best if we stay as far from each other as possible. Too many things can happen late at night when we stay in the same hotel. My only consolation is realizing he’ll most likely be on a different floor from the rest of us.

  “Why don’t we meet back in the lobby in one hour? We’ll have dinner, and I’ll see about show tickets,” Kaden tells our group.

  The team enthusiastically agrees. A hotel host meets us so we don’t have to go through the usual check-in process. We’re simply handed our keys and we all scatter. We aren’t grouped together, and we all have our own rooms which is nice. I ride up the elevator with a few people in the same tower and we part ways.

  The hotel staff split us this way so we get different perspectives from the vast building. We can see how far away the conference center is from different wings. This is all part of the planning process. Which towers will be best to book guests in? What is more important to the attendees? A view? Easy access? Casino access? All of these things are important to work out beforehand. Do they want to build a skybridge from the closest tower so attendees won’t have to go through the lobby? I personally vote yes to that one.

  An hour should be plenty of time to get ready before heading down, but it isn’t. I fuss over what to wear. Should I bring out the only dress I brought or save it if we do something with clients? Should I wear one of my business suits? Is it casual? I don’t know.

  Dell said it isn’t a work night and we shouldn’t run into any clients. But I stare at my hanging clothes for at least ten minutes, trying to decide. I wear business clothes all the time and I don’t want to waste my one dress if it’s a relaxed night, so I settle on a pair of jeans and a comfortable sweater. A T-shirt might be a little too casual. I’m self-conscious as I take the elevator back to the lobby with only a couple of minutes to spare.

  Dell’s already here but no one else has made it yet. I let out a relieved sigh when I see him in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with an alien on it that says “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” I can’t help but laugh.

  “I was agonizing about what to wear. I should’ve asked if it was casual or not. But I only brought so many clothes,” I say as I look at his shirt.

  “Hey, it
’s gonna be a fun time, not a work night, and I plan on losing a few hundred bucks at the blackjack tables so I’m dressed for comfort,” he assures me.

  “I could’ve worn a T-shirt I guess,” I say, hating how much time I spent agonizing over the decision.

  “No way. That sweater is hot on you. I never thought I’d see you in pink, but it’s perfection,” he says.

  “Pink is my favorite color, but I try to keep my work clothes professional and neutral. I’ve noticed some of the girls wear more colors though, so the next time I go shopping I might spice up my wardrobe,” I say, anticipating doing just that.

  “Good for you. I’ve been fighting for casual Fridays for a while, but the boss man is afraid I’ll come to work in something like this,” Dell says with a laugh. “He’s probably right.”

  “I hope we work together forever, Dell. You’re a hoot.” I laugh.

  “Dang straight I am. People don’t laugh enough, and that’s boring. I decided long ago not to take life too seriously. There are too many heart attacks in the world, and though some might say it’s all about food, I disagree. I think stress is the number one killer. Don’t get me wrong, I take pride in my work, and I definitely like being the best at whatever I do, but life’s too short to let stress get to you, or to take yourself so seriously. Work hard and play even harder. That’s my motto.”

  “I’m going to start taking life lessons from you,” I tell him.

  He nods as if that’s the most brilliant thing I’ve ever said.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Kaden says as he approaches.

  “I’m hurt, Boss,” Dell says. Though he’s not at all.

  “Dell might come up with a few brilliant mottos, but he also comes up with ones like what’s on his shirt,” Kaden warns.

  “Hey, baby, it’s Vegas, and we all know the rules here,” Dell says with a waggle of his brows.

  “Just remember nothing is free and the house always wins,” Kaden warns.

  “Yeah, I learned that the minute I put a diamond on my beautiful wife’s finger,” Dell says with another laugh.