Body (Trinity Trilogy Book 1)

by Audrey Carlan

He brings his hand to smooth down the length of my back. The simple caress is relaxing and I’m still no closer to telling him I can’t see him. My mind races to come up with a way to manage both my job and him. Is it possible?

  “Your turn. Where did you grow up?” His hand trails along my spine in flourishing sweeps, almost as if he’s coating my lust like an artist with a paintbrush.

  “I grew up in Northern California. Sacramento and the surrounding cities, mostly. Went to Sacramento State, got my degree in Business Administration with a focus in Marketing a little over two years ago. Moved to the Bay Area just out of college and was hired on by the Foundation right away. Been in fundraising ever since.”

  “Wow, that was the abridged version. Do you have the spiel memorized?” He laughs.

  “I don’t like talking about myself. Where did you grow up?”

  His smile fades. “I lived most of my life with my Uncle and four cousins in Beverly Hills. I lived in Boston during my days at Harvard.”

  I’m certain my eyebrows are reaching for the sky. He’s an Ivy League boy. What the hell is he doing here with me?

  “Before I finished at Harvard, I’d amassed my own small fortune investing in broken, bankrupt firms that cost me next to nothing. My uncle helped, bankrolling my first acquisition. Then I built each company up from the ashes and made them profitable again. After doing that a dozen times, I built my own company and slowly my empire.” He’s proud of his achievements but doesn’t come off too smug.

  “A Phoenix rising from the ashes.”

  His surprised eyes meet mine. He’s clearly delighted and wickedly handsome when he’s happy.

  “Exactly.” He nods and smiles.

  “Why did you create the Safe Haven Foundation?” It makes no sense why he would create a foundation when it’s obvious he’s in the business of making money, not giving it away.

  “I saw a need. I had the capital, and it was important to me.” He shrugs and looks away for the first time this evening. He swirls his wine, then refills his glass and mine with the remaining crimson liquid. I can tell he doesn’t want to go into additional detail. “Tell me about your family, your parents?”

  I go cold. The hairs on my forearms rise. “My Mother passed away from cancer a few years back. I don’t really know much about my Father. He was never around. Once in a while he’d send Mom money to help out, but I’ve only seen him a handful of times. Last I heard, he was working construction for a company that traveled from site to site around the nation. I’m an only child. My parents didn’t have siblings, so I don’t have extended family either.”

  He looks at me to gauge my emotions. “I’m sorry.” His hand covers mine and he brings it to his lips and kisses it. It’s an old fashioned gesture for a man so young. It almost lets me forget why I’m here. A deep ache settles into my gut and sets it churning the wine there. I pull my hand away and prepare to stop this pseudo date right here. I have to tell him that we can’t continue to see each other.

  Behind me, a sultry voice calls Chase’s name. “Mr. Davis! Fancy seeing you here.” The woman has a thick Puerto Rican accent. She circles around me, insinuating herself between Chase and I. She slides one small hand up Chase’s forearm to his shoulder. Miss Puerto Rico is long, lean, and all mocha colored, satiny looking skin. She’s wearing a slinky swath of a dress that barely covers her ass. It’s fuchsia with little glittering beads all over it. Two diamond strings run around her neck, holding the tiny garment up. With little effort, she brings her body to Chase’s and boldly, hangs both arms over his shoulders, grasping his neck. “Where have you been all my life?” Chase looks shocked to see her, but doesn’t immediately pull away. Even if this is a casual date or drinks, the woman is rude. Fawning all over a man I was sitting intimately close to is disgusting and pisses me off!

  “Tatiana? I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I thought you were in Peru?” He puts his hands around her waist, maybe to move her, maybe to bring her closer. I don’t know, and right now, I don’t care. I watch with sick fascination as the woman practically rubs her body along the juncture between his thighs. He grips her hips, and I want to vomit. Getting the hell out of here is the only thing I can think of. Moving from the opposite side of my chair, I try not to jostle the tanned bimbo rubbing his lap.

  I’ve had enough when her hand slides down his chest several times in a very lover-esque manner. Quickly, I turn my chair to the side and slip off. I pull my purse onto my shoulder and take a few steps away from the scene unfolding in front of me.

  “I have to go, Chase.” His head snaps up. “I was just going to tell you that this thing between us…” I flip my hand at him as his eyes shoot from the girl hanging all over him to me. Ms. Puerto Rico grins and winks at me. “…it won’t work out. You’re my boss. End of story.” He looks shocked, and his jaw drops.

  The leggy brunette sidles in closer and kisses his neck. That’s it. I’ve had enough. I turn on a heel and beat feet out of the bar.

  “Gillian, wait!” he calls.

  I chance a glance back and find the brunette is kissing him. Ridiculous. Invite me out on a date and kiss and rub all over another woman? Good riddance. I don’t need him or his distracting beautiful body trying to sway me into being another one of his bimbos. I dart from the bar and to the elevators as quick as my heels will take me. I hear Chase yell my name as the elevator doors close.

  In what world does a sex kitten climb her way up a man who is clearly on a date with another woman? A world I’m not meant for. One that involves incredibly good looking, rich men, who own swanky bars, limousines, and have linebackers as drivers. Before the bimbo broke the trance, I was actually having a really nice time. Even started to believe that he was genuinely interested in getting to know me. So stupid! It’s for the best. So why do I feel like my heart was ripped out and served to me on a platter? That’s insanity or maybe lust talking. The door of the elevator opens and I step out and collide with Jack.

  “Get the hell out of my way,” I grate through my teeth and rush toward the buildings doors.

  “Miss Callahan. Mr. Davis has asked me to detain you.” He grabs my arm but I yank it out of his grasp so fast he steps back.

  “Don’t fucking touch me!” I run out the door and down the street. My strides are long, my skirt bunches up with each step. After several minutes of running, my lungs are on fire, heart jackhammering in my chest. A piercing ache throbs just under my ribs. Coming to a screeching halt, I suck down precious air and try to calm down. Large heaping breaths rack me as I try to gain back control. Stupid men. I should go back there and thank the slut for saving me from heartache down the road. The phone in my blazer’s pocket buzzes angrily. It’s Chase. I hit the “talk” button and bring it to my ear, not waiting for him to speak.

  “You don’t have to apologize or answer for anything. Enjoy your real date!” The shrill tone surprises even me as I hang up on him. Immediately the phone rings again and I ignore it. It keeps ringing and ringing until I smash the power button and turn the damn thing off.

  In my desire to bolt, I wasn’t paying attention, just following the need to get away. To escape. The darkened section of the city I’ve found myself in isn’t exactly appealing. Why the hell do I always get myself in these situations? Did I do something to someone in a past life to have such crummy karma? Glancing around the dark street, I realize I’m lost. Running blindly in varying directions so that I wouldn’t be followed seemed like a great plan at the time. Now, not so much.

  Ahead, a streetlamp illuminates a small area and looks like the best place to stop and call a cab. Pressing zero on the phone, I get the operator. The woman is helpful, and I look up at the street sign to tell her where I’m stranded. She connects me to a cab company that assures me they will pick me up in fifteen minutes.

  This night went from good, to bad, to worse in what seemed like a nanosecond. The thought of having to sit in the same room with Chase tomorrow at the meeting, knowing what he and Tatiana are going to
do all night makes me want to hurl. I place my phone in my pocket and lean against the chain link fence behind me to rifle through my purse. Maybe I can find a loose hair-tie and get the sweaty hair off my neck. Crazy ending to what started out to be an amazing day.

  Crunching leaves and the sound of footsteps behind me makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. Without warning, a large hand comes around my neck and pulls me against the fence. The metal digs into my back as my feet flail and kick out. Reflexively, I use both hands to yank at the hand restricting my breath, but it won’t budge.

  “You fucking scream, bitch, and I’ll kill you,” says a man’s voice next to my ear. The stench of sweat mixed with cigarettes is revolting. My body stiffens and trembles. Instantly, I’m taken back to a memory of when Justin would hold me down. I remember the glazed faraway look in his eyes right before he’d strike. Panic rips through my chest and fear takes over my defenses. The attacker’s voice rips through all thoughts, “You listen to me, you little cunt. Hand me your purse now, and I won’t kill you.”

  The cold, hard steel of a gun presses against my skull as his other hand squeezes the tender skin at my neck, cutting off all air. I gag and choke at the vice-like grip around my throat. Oh God, please no!

  “Okay, okay. Whatever you want,” I’m barely able to get out through his snake like constriction on my neck, preventing much sound.

  His hand grips my neck like a steel claw, nails digging in, piercing the flesh. I feel blood pool and drip down my neck in small little streams like the legs of red wine, dancing along a swirled glass. Pain sears through my neck and chest, black and white stars pop in my peripheral vision like flashes of a camera lens. I’m going to die. I remember the feeling all too well when Justin left me on the cold hard floor of our apartment a few years ago to bleed out.

  “You can have whatever you want, please!” A choked, raspy sob spills from my lungs. I hold up my purse and the man squeezes the tender flesh of my neck so tight I can’t breathe. “Good bitch!” he says from over my shoulder. He snatches the purse from my hand.

  He lets my neck go long enough for a blood curdling scream to roar through the empty street just as his hand strikes my face with the hard metal of his gun. The world goes black.

  ***

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Someone turn off the alarm. The beeping continues like Chinese water torture against the frayed edges of consciousness. My eyelashes are heavy and hard to open. It’s as if the lashes are weighed down by tiny manacles holding onto each strand. The sickening smell of bleach and antiseptic fills the air. A hammer knocks against my forehead. Bam. Bam. Bam

  The pressure above my eye feels like someone hit me with a baseball bat. With shaking fingers, I feel my face. A large bandage covers the tender spot above my eye. My cheek bone is twice its normal size.

  The memory of what happened slams me into the here and now. Oh God. Bile rises in my throat leaving a sour taste. I was robbed. At gunpoint. I had been waiting for the taxi. Opening my eyes, the haze and cloudiness slowly fades. When I get my eyes open and blink rapidly, I’m able to look around. The white room is dimly lit from behind my bed. As I make my visual trek around the room, my gaze settles onto the very pissed off face of one Chase Davis. Anger pumps off his large form in waves, and I start to shake. I’ve seen anger like that in the eyes of another man. I don’t care to ever experience it again. He stands and pulls the blanket over me more tightly, tucking the sides around me. I have to hold my breath, trying desperately not to flinch. Panic rises like a high tide at sundown. “How did I get here?” I croak, voice thickened by drugs. He grabs the pink plastic water cup sitting on the side table and brings the straw to my lips. I sip. Pure heaven. He sets down the cup and takes a seat next to the bed, arms crossed defensively.

  “You were mugged. The taxi driver found you and called 911.” Chase’s eyes narrow, and he holds his chin tight, teeth clenched. The man is really upset.

  The evening’s events come back to me. Tears well and I grip the blanket tightly. “You could have been killed, Gillian.” His voice is horrified, perhaps even emotional. “You were accosted, roughed up, and left in a very tough neighborhood. I am so angry with you.”

  Tears slide down my cheeks, and he wipes them away with both of his thumbs. His touch is so light against my skin I can barely feel it.

  “Why are you here?”

  He winces at my question.

  “The nurses searched your clothing. My business card was in the pocket of your blazer with your cell phone. My call was the last you received.” He gets up and paces the small space like a caged animal. “You have no idea what it was like being told that you had been attacked,” He takes a harrowed breath and shoves his fingers though his hair roughly. “Then, I come to the hospital and see you like…like this! You could have died!” His gaze holds mine with a questioning look. I have no answer.

  “I’m sorry you had to leave Tatiana for me.” I grumble and look away. I wish he’d just leave.

  He grips my chin and lightly tugs it back so he can look me in the eyes. “Tatiana means nothing to me. You on the other hand…” He sighs heavily and slumps back into the chair next to me. He’s too far away to reach.

  “Tell me…” I urge, desperate to find out what he was going to say.

  The nurse walks in, destroying the moment. “Welcome to the world of the living, Mrs. Davis.” I’m certain the look on my face is one of complete confusion. Chase leans forward and clasps my hand. It’s warm and comforting. I latch on to his lifeline as it if will disappear at any moment.

  “When can I take my wife home?” Maybe that blow to the head was worse than I thought?

  “Once the doctor looks her over, checks the stitches, and gives you the okay. Then you can take her home.” She smiles at Chase, but he’s staring at me. “You gave this man quite a scare, young lady.” The nurse gestures to Chase. He shrugs and looks away. “You should have seen the way he burst into the ER, roaring, demanding access to you immediately. Like he was a real life Superman.” She clucks her tongue and the image makes me snicker a little. He is a real life Superman. Chase squeezes my hand and the nurse leaves.

  “Your wife?” I ask.

  “They asked if I was next of kin. I told them we were married.”

  “I thought you never lied. That dishonesty was weakness?” I stare deeply into his eyes.

  He looks away. “It is. I had a moment.” He won’t look me in the eye. The doctor comes in and explains that I have a concussion, a bruised cheekbone, five crescent shaped cuts in my neck, and a few stitches above my right eye where the gunman hit me with the butt of the weapon.

  Chase grips my hand so tightly I almost cry out as the doctor revisits each wound. I clasp Chase’s hand in both of mine and pet the top one. His thumb traces an infinity symbol over my wrist while the doctor explains that a concussion is a traumatic brain injury that alters the way your brain functions. The effects are usually temporary, but can include problems with headache, concentration, memory, judgment, balance and coordination. He tells us that I will need to be awakened every two hours, asked to remember three items, and then to repeat them at the next waking. He also informs us that the police want to take a statement.

  “Not tonight,” Chase interrupts. “I’m taking her home. She’s had a traumatic evening.” He pulls me against his side and I snuggle in.

  The nurse brings me some scrubs and hospital slippers and I slip into the little bathroom, changing out of my hospital gown. When I return, she hands Chase the bag with my soiled bloody clothes in it. Might as well toss the entire lot in the trash. I’ll never wear that outfit again.

  “Gillian, I have my people on this. That fucker won’t get away with hurting you.” He embraces me, his strong arms enveloping me. Warm and safe. In his arms, I lean my head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. It should calm and soothe, but it does the exact opposite. The tidal wave of emotions, remembering the night’s activities, rips
through me. Tears form and spill unchecked onto his shirt. Deep gut wrenching sobs roar from my scratchy throat as the realization of what happened truly invades my being. Chase’s arms hold me tight, gifting me his protection and solace as I weep.

  “Baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Chase coos as he pets my hair. “I’m taking you back to the hotel.” I nod into his chest, not capable of speech.

  We leave the hospital and he ushers me into his limo. I don’t see the scenery on the way back. The pain medication they filled me with starts to take effect, and I lean heavily into Chase’s solid form. I must have dozed off because we’re at the hotel and Chase is lifting me from the limo. I lull against his chest as he carries me through the hotel. I can only imagine what we look like. Hopefully, people don’t notice much at this time of night. Really though, I’m too far gone to care.

  “Mr. Davis, Sir, do you need a wheelchair?” A man asks in the background.

  “No. I’m not letting her go.”

  His comment makes me feel warm and snuggly. I hear the ding of the elevator and soon we’re rising. Moments later, I’m on a big, soft bed. Chase pulls off my scrub pants and tucks my legs under the silky soft, cool linen sheets. He goes to the dresser and pulls out a white V-neck t-shirt. I watch in a daze, unable to do much other than stare. He drags the scrub top over my head, careful of my swollen face.

  I wait in my black lacey bra for him to put the shirt on me. “Jesus Christ, Gillian. What did that fucker do to you?” His tone is strained. His fingertips are feather light on my neck. Moving my hair to the side, he turns me toward the lamp light. He’s seeing the marks left by my attackers nails embossed into the tender skin of my neck. Chase surprises me by bringing his face close, then trailing soft kisses along the entire surface. The gesture is incredibly sweet. He’s such a dichotomy. One minute he’s challenging and demanding, the next, gentle and tender.

  “Never again will you be hurt, Gillian. I’ll make certain of it,” he promises between the soothing pecks of his lips against my flesh. I shiver from the feel of his mouth on me, more than from the trauma I experienced. A traitorous tear escapes and drips onto his face.