by S. Valentine
Before she climbed in, she paused to glance over her shoulder. She felt someone watching her. Were they? Or was she being paranoid again? She contemplated telling Darion about her suspicions of being followed, but didn’t want to worry him, or for him to think she was crazy. She had no concrete evidence either. She’d seen a silver Toyota twice. That was it.
Entering the car, she made herself comfortable in the leather seat. She focused her attention to Darion, knowing something was also worrying him. She opened her mouth to speak. She was blocked out by the sound of rock music as he switched the stereo on. Hastily turning to face the window, she linked her fingers together. He was shutting her out, trying to avoid her questions.
“I know you’re not okay. I wish you’d talk to me,” Gabi said softly when they were eventually lying in bed, a gentle light sweeping over the room from the street lamps.
“There’s nothing to say, Gabi.” He hooked his hands together behind his head.
Gabi rolled onto her side, her back facing him. She didn’t want him to see the disappointment on her face.
“Gabi.” He let out a frustrated groan. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Just some minor issues at the club. Eva and the girls aren’t seeing eye to eye, that’s all.” He shifted toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I don’t wanna drag you down with my problems.”
She turned to face him. “Darion, I want to be here for you.”
“I know you do, darlin’,” he soothed, and half smiled. “But there’s nothing you can do. Only I can rectify this.”
Gabi closed her eyes for a moment, thinking, gearing herself up to find out what she needed to know—whether they had a future together, whether Darion believed in them, or whether she was wasting her time. “Do you think you’ll come to the christening with me?”
“Gabi.” Darion stroked her cheek. “It’s a long way off. Let’s talk about it then.”
“It’s a simple question, Darion.” She hadn’t meant for her tone to sound so tight with agitation.
“Okay.” His features softened. “If you want me there, then I’m there.”
Before she could respond, he silenced her with a kiss. Gabi reciprocated, opening her mouth to allow his tongue access. She tasted the liquor he’d sipped. His lips crashed against hers urgently, desperately, possessing her. She heard the sound of his muffled grunts, and then his hands were exploring her body.
She reluctantly pulled back. “I need to ask you something.”
She saw a flash of concern cross his face. “What is it?”
“Do I make you happy?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “You do.”
Gabi wasn’t sure whether to feel comforted by his answer. How could he be happy when she wasn’t fulfilling his every need?
“Do I make you happy?” His voice tremoured with obvious nerves, uncertainty showed on his face. She noticed he was studying her expression. Gabi felt a little relieved to know that Darion could sometimes be unsure of her feelings, as she could of his.
I’ve never been happier with a man in my life, she thought, on the good days, anyway. “Most of the time,” she teased instead.
“Is that so?” He tickled her ribs, causing her to wriggle and laugh.
“Stop,” she cried out. “I hate being tickled.”
“Am I making you happy now?”
Involuntary giggles continued to escape her mouth as she tried to push him away. He kneeled on top of her, his body weight pressing her against the mattress. His fingers began to tickle under her arms.
“Get off,” she pleaded, writhing around. “Stop! Please.”
“On one condition.” A playful smile teased his face.
“What is it?” She grabbed his arms, trying to remove them from her body.
He stopped tickling her as he leant in to her ear to whisper, “You let me fuck you…all night.” His voice was smooth sounding, so sexy it was almost enough alone to persuade her. Grabbing the bottom of his top, he then lifted it from his head, and tossed it to the floor. Gabi hungrily studied him, taking in every inch of his firm, smooth body. As he raked a hand through his hair, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, Gabi felt her heart skip a beat. Darion Milano. With the white sheets wrapped around his legs, his fitness-model-like physique, and slow mischievous smile, Gabi knew he wouldn’t be out of place in GQ magazine. Women worldwide would lust over him, and that was a fact.
She grinned in delight and answered, “I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem.”
***
Darion
Darion tightened his hold on her fingers. Eva looked sensational in her wedding dress. It looked like it had been made especially for her, to accentuate every inch of her perfect body. The white bodice lifted her bosom. The flowing white skirt clung to her hips, and the tail flowed behind her beautifully. Her eyes peeked out from under her veil, twinkling mischievously. She had whispered that underneath her dress, she was wearing a black bra with slits in, and a crotchless G-string, complete with a garter on her leg. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.
“I love you, Mr. Milano. Here’s to the rest of our crazy life.” She giggled in his ear. “May every year get better and dirtier.”
“It will,” he’d promised. “We’re gonna live the high-life, baby.”
As they wove through the crowd, he felt his ego swell. He noticed that others openly admired his girl. As they stood next to their boring wives and girlfriends, he had something they didn’t—a prize. Eva was everything men wished for, lusted after from afar―probably someone they pictured as they got intimate with their partners.
All of those years of having nothing, he now had everything. People were actually jealous of him. They wanted to be him. It made a change from being the lonely, insecure boy. The one that watched the world go by, wishing for a better life, desperate to be loved, to be wanted. With his shabby clothes, two-year-old trainers, and not even a pot to piss in, he had enviously watched the older boys on his street. They had fancy cars, clothes, and different beautiful women every week. He remembered the words like he’d heard them only yesterday, ‘Dream on!’ One of the boys had caught him admiring a stunning blonde climbing into their car.
It was a dream, all right. If his own parents didn’t love him, then how could anybody else? He had begged them to say they loved him. ‘Mom, do you love me?’ ‘Dad, I passed my GCSE’s.’ ‘Mom, I’m gonna make something of myself when I’m older, I promise.’ ‘Dad, I’ll open my own bar, and you can come there every single night.’
And nothing.
The feeling of rejection had usually hit him at night. He’d sit on the windowsill watching families and couples stroll by, laughing, hand in hand, and wonder what it felt like to be loved, and to give love. He knew how it felt to be lavished with attention. At the gentlemen’s clubs’ with his dad, even as young as the age of seven, the dancers had fussed over him. As they ruffled his hair and pinched his cheeks, they were forever telling him how cute he was, how one day he would be a heart-breaker.
And so in his late teens, he made his time at the clubs valuable. He questioned the bosses constantly, wanting to know how the business ran. He listened to the dancers whining about things they hated about the club, and bragging about things they loved. He bugged the customers to see what they felt was lacking in the club, and how it could be improved.
At eighteen, Darion moved away from the rough parts of London. He stayed with his aunt in Westhaven. At first it took a while to get used to. Whilst Westhaven was beautiful to look at with its historical churches, grassy parks, and quaint shops, it was boring. There was only one nightclub in the whole town, Sky Bar. It needed livening up. Darion made it his mission to become an entrepreneur. He’d make his parents proud, make them love him. What better way than to open a gentlemen’s club? He could be surrounded by stunning women every day, and his dad would like visiting.
He ensured he got a job in a call centre where he saved every single penny. He’d had his eye on a buil
ding down a backstreet. There was something about it that drew him in. It had character. He knew he’d own it one day. He knew that it’d be popular with people queuing in the street to get inside. Men could enjoy private dances, whilst women could have a nice cocktail with their friends without getting hit on and harassed by men all the time.
When he’d visited the empty space of the upstairs, he’d spotted a door to another section of the club. The door looked lonely, wasted. The room was bare, cold, the walls crumbling, and the one window that looked out onto the street took his breath away. It was arched; the dark wood surrounding it looked expensive. It seemed out of place, like the view of the street wasn’t enough. One would expect to open that huge window and look out onto the cerulean Mediterranean Sea. As Darion ran his fingers along the glass, he didn’t know how, but he would make certain that the window was remembered, that when people saw it, they knew that beyond it was something special. The same went for the door. The walls even. And if they could talk he wanted to ensure they had secrets and stories beyond anyone’s wildest imagination.
As he left the room, he glanced at the door for the final time. The Black Door.
“Dream on!”
No thanks. I’d rather make it a reality.
Darion’s breathing accelerated. He kicked the covers off and jolted into a sitting position, gasping for air. Digging his fingers in his hair, he cursed under his breath. Eva! Her laugh, her smile, her body, her eyes haunted his mind. Ever since he and Eva had split, he hated sleeping alone. It was then when flashbacks seemed to force their way into his brain. The comfort of Gabi sleeping next to him hadn’t stopped the nightmares. Shit. He had assumed that he’d stop obsessing over Eva now that she had returned. He rubbed his palms up and down his face. Maybe he still needed closure after all. Maybe he needed the questions swimming around his head answered. Why she cheated. Why she ruined his whole fucking life. Calm down, Darion. He couldn’t ask her yet. He didn’t want to dredge up the past. He shouldn’t. Couldn’t.
He shifted around to watch Gabi sleeping. Her blonde waves were splayed out across the pillow. Her lips were parted with her soft breathing. Her olive complexion was free of make-up. She looked pretty. So natural. So opposite to Eva.
He felt an urge to stroke her cheek, but decided against it, not wanting to wake her. Lying back down, he closed his eyes again and silently prayed that he could sleep.
After a few minutes of tossing and turning, he made his way to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he took out a bottle of vodka. Adding it to some orange juice, he swigged half of it back, before settling in the living room, taking the bottle with him. He switched the television on, pleased to find an episode of Dexter playing. Taking another large gulp of his drink, he placed it on the table and shuffled down on the sofa. He needed to find another way to de-stress that didn’t involve alcohol and gambling.
Hearing Gabi enter the room, he looked up. Her wide, seemingly worried eyes fell on him.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly.
“Got a bit of a headache, that’s all.”
He noticed her take in the bottle of vodka. “Well, drinking that won’t help.” She walked toward him and sat down, placing her hand on his. “You want me to watch some television with you?”
“If you want.”
She lay down, hooking one arm and leg over him, her head resting on his chest. He stroked her hair gently until his arm began to ache, and his eyelids were too heavy to keep open. Soon they were both in a deep sleep.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Gabi
“One, two, three, four…that’s right…get those muscles really working.”
Gabi stretched her arms above her head until she felt the pulling ache on her muscles. A hip-hop song was blaring from the stereo. Gabi’s forehead was slicked with sweat from the brutal exercising and the lack of air in the stuffy room. Her heart was racing a million miles per hour, and her breathing was sharp and heavy. Grabbing her towel from the floor, she dabbed at her face, and resumed to dancing.
“Okay…watch what I’m doing here, and then copy me.”
Her attention was focused on the tutor as she moved her feet in intricate patterns. Gabi then mirrored her actions, as did the other people in the room.
“I’m exhausted.” The pretty brunette next to her giggled. It was Kalli, a girl that Gabi had met at her very first dance class.
“Me too.” Gabi licked her dry lips, desperately needing a drink. She didn’t want to reach for her bottled water and break her dance imitations.
“How’s things with you?” Kalli asked whilst jogging on the spot.
“Great.” Gabi beamed. “You?”
“Yeah. I enjoy these classes. It’s nice to get some peace away from the kids and hubby.”
“How old are they?”
“Five and eight.” Kalli spun around, her hair flying out behind her. “Do you have children?”
“No,” she responded, not intending for her tone to come out as glum as it did. “Maybe some day,” she added cheerily.
“Ah, you’ve got plenty of time.” Kalli waved her hand in the air, dismissively. “You’re a brilliant dancer, Gabi.”
Gabi ducked her head with a soft laugh. “Thank you.” Was she? The compliment made her feel as if she would burst with joy. So I am good at something, she thought. She realised how sad that sounded. Apart from her job being a brilliant editor, with a fine eye for detail, Gabi hadn’t really found a hobby in which she excelled. Lawrence would have been happy having her stay at home, raising children, and washing dishes. Gabi didn’t agree with that. Motherhood didn’t mean that any hobbies or interests should be abandoned. A happy wife makes for a happy life, she had read once. Maybe if she ever did have children, that she would find other things she was good at. Would she be a good mother? If her own mom was anything to go by, she had no reason to doubt her abilities. Her childhood had been nothing but good memories to reflect back on. Her heart twisted in her chest as sadness overcame her at Darion’s childhood. For adults to steal that away from you was cruel. It was a time to play, to be silly, to make mistakes, and most of all, to be cared for and loved by the most important people in your life—parents. She swallowed the lump that had lodged in her throat. Some people didn’t have a close relationship with their parents. She was pleased that at least Darion had Dion.
“Gabi?” A yell broke her thoughts.
“Yes?” She blinked rapidly, not realising she had stopped in her tracks.
“Everything okay?”
She nodded. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I was in my own little world there.”
“Glad to have you back.” The tutor grinned. “That’s all for today, folks. You all did brilliantly. I am immensely proud.”
Gabi grinned.
“I’ll see you all next lesson. Have a nice evening.” The tutor strolled toward the stereo, which she switched off.
“See you next lesson.” Kalli slung her bag over her shoulder and waved at Gabi.
“Bye.” She waved.
Gabi grabbed her water and drained half of it in several gulps. Taking her bag of clean clothes, she headed toward the shower rooms. Once inside, she was relieved to see that it was empty. Setting her bag on the sink, she stripped off her leggings, crop top, and underwear. Not wanting anyone to catch her in the nude, she quickly tied her hair into a top knot and scurried into the shower.
When she was under the showerhead, she switched on the water. Her tense muscles relaxed from the warmth. Tearing open a packet of shower gel, she began lathering it over her body, making it foam. She closed her lids, luxuriating in the silence and heat of the room.
It was 8:30 p.m. when Gabi got home. It didn’t take her long to prepare some pasta. She took it with a book to the living room, and made herself comfortable on the couch. She ate whilst she flipped through the pages, reading. It was a romance novel, her favourite genre. Like most girls, Gabi had been brought up watching and reading fairytales. Wasn’t eve
ryone after the happy ending? She laughed to herself, thinking of her prince. He was a far cry from the knight in shining armour she thought she’d end up with. Maybe Darion wasn’t the prince. Maybe he was the beast yet to turn into the prince. She tucked her legs under the cushions for warmth. A self-congratulatory smile appeared on her face. Yes, that was definitely it. She had to peel back Darion’s layers to find the sweet, romantic prince.
But how to tame the beast was the question that spun around in her head. Damn Disney. Can’t a Belle, Cinderella, Ariel, and Jasmine come with man management instructions? How much easier life would be.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Darion
It was mid-week and Darion was perched at the bar, keeping Marnie company. Glancing down at his watch, it displayed that it was 11 p.m. The girls had informed him that Eva hadn’t arrived yet. It wasn’t like there was much for her to do anyway. The staff was more than capable of doing their jobs just fine without being under her watchful eye. However, Eva said she would ensure the club made more money. He’d wait to see the day.
He tapped his fingers anxiously on the bar surface and surveyed the room, landing on the entrance door. He couldn’t sit still. He was agitated, fidgety. Lately, he ensured that he got to the club early enough to get everything done, and was able to leave before Eva arrived. Alternatively he locked himself away in his office. He hated feeling on edge all the time.
“It’s busy in here tonight.” Marnie jerked her head toward the tables, most of which were occupied.
He nodded in agreement. He was about to reach for his cigars when he noticed Marnie’s eyes widen before she scampered off. Darion licked his dry lips to moisten them, knowing exactly who was standing behind him. Slowly twisting around on his stool, there she was. Eva. Dressed in a white vest and black leather skirt, hair curling down her back. He noticed the murderous expression on her face.
