Requiem

by London Saint James

  “That would be nice, thank you.”

  He reached for the bottle, picked up my glass, and poured the crimson liquid into the tall clear-stemmed goblet. The bouquet was rich, decadent. He watched me take a sip. His face broke into amusement again. I felt fingers move my hair gently over my right shoulder, exposing my face. The fingers twined within my hair then traced a line down my exposed shoulder blade. The unexpected gesture not only took me by surprise but sent another wave of memories washing over me.

  Without meaning to, my shoulders stiffened. Chill bumps raced, danced over the surface of my skin. I gazed over toward Cayden who seemed content to watch me. I became self-conscious and adjusted myself in the chair. Cayden traced over the goose flesh of my right arm with his index finger.

  “Sorry,” Cayden said, softly. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I had to see your face.”

  From my left, I thought I heard Chandler sigh.

  “Oh,” I said. I did not know what to say. I had no response for that.

  I tried to focus on my salad, spearing a baby tomato with my fork before placing the round red temptress into my mouth. I kept my eyes down and studied the table while Cayden kept his eyes on me. His finger moved over my arm in erotic rhythm, slow strokes, tempting me.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  I shook my head. My body was going to give me away. Like my mind and my heart, my body reacted to Cayden. My body screamed, “YES!” My mind said, “YOU CAN’T,” but without question my body liked what it felt. It had been a long time, and my body knew what my mind fought against.

  “Winter.” Cayden’s voice stopped my earnest concentration. I was busy learning the pattern of the wood-grains in the table, trying to concentrate on anything, any other thing other than Cayden.

  “Hum?” I mumbled and brought my eyes back to his face hesitantly.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I glanced over his shoulder, away from his eyes. It was hard to hide, hard to lie when he looked at me. “I am fine.” I fibbed before taking a much larger sip of my wine.

  Cayden leaned over, his breath warm against my neck. I felt his fingers skip over my bare shoulder blade. “Your skin is beautiful. It looks like fine porcelain.”

  I turned my head to find his face inches from mine. “Thank you,” I replied while gazing into his eyes.

  “Winter,” he said softly.

  I moved my mouth to his ear. “Cayden,” I whispered, “I can’t.”

  “You can’t what?” he whispered back.

  “Do this.” I gestured, sweeping my hand between our two almost touching bodies.

  He stared at me, his mouth almost touching mine. “You can,” he said with a crooked smile. “You want to.”

  I dropped my gaze to the table. My pulse raced. I did want to. I wanted Cayden beyond words, but I should not want him. There were a thousand reasons for why I should not want him.

  “Winter, more wine?” Chandler asked.

  I glanced up. “Sure,” I said quietly. A large bulbous man took the stage rather loudly, but this is a good thing I decided. I had a reason to look at something other than the table or the wall. The man grabbed the microphone and introduced the band. I heard people whistling, yelling, clapping…. I was unable to see the crowd, only hear their ruckus. It sounded like a lot of people were in the room beyond us.

  I leaned forward in my chair when the band took the stage. A moment later, they began to play. I heard Chandler and Cayden laugh. Clearly, they were both amused. I turned to look at Cayden then Chandler.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Um, you might want to move your salad,” Chandler suggested, and I realized he continued to laugh.

  I glanced down to find a piece of blackened silk from my plunging neck line had fallen into the salad dressing. “Great,” I said under my breath.

  I guess I should be relieved it wasn’t my breast which plunged out of the dress. That would have been horrifying, to have a bare nipple covered in Ranch dressing.

  Chandler’s expression, reminiscent of smug superiority, bugged the heck out of me. One eyebrow arched as he looked down his nose. “Would you like me to help you?” he offered. His napkin in hand, poised for trouble.

  “I don’t think so,” Cayden responded tersely, glaring at his brother.

  “I think I am capable.” I took my napkin and wiped the creamy white dressing from the edge of the black too low cut piece of material. “I really cannot believe I agreed to wear this. I’m not real sure this dress is sensible,” I said, embarrassed.

  “Yes, that is exactly why I like it.” Chandler chimed in. “Why be sensible?”

  I felt my cheeks turn hot. My bottom lip jetted out into a pout. “The dress is—”

  “Perfection,” Cayden interjected. His face, beatific. His finger began outlining the pout of my bottom lip and lingered there. “I knew you would pout.” He mumbled under his breath.

  What?

  “What did you say?” I asked.

  “Please, do not be upset with me.” Cayden’s voice was soft and pleading. “I saw the dress and thought of you.”

  This, Cayden’s words, sent my mind into a swirling compilation of questions.

  “You bought this dress?”

  “Yes. Didn’t Melissa tell you?” Cayden replied.

  “Well….” I turned to look at Chandler who was non-apologetic. He shrugged and turned his attention back toward the stage. It wasn’t like Chandler had actually told me he bought the dress, but he did not tell me his brother bought it for me either. When Melissa said Mr. Cain, I assumed she referred to Chandler. I started to explain my confusion. “I guess—”

  A clicking sound started to echo through the room, rapid, repetitive, and nonstop. I stopped talking. Chandler stiffened. Placing his arm around my shoulders, he stood abruptly. He looked down at me as though he had been caught. His expression morphed into something quite strange, almost pleading.

  “Mr. Cain,” Jayden called out and moved to Cayden’s side.

  “Move her now!” Langdon ordered with authority from somewhere behind.

  I looked over toward Cayden with what had to be shock playing across my features. There standing in the darkened hallway were two photographers. Cayden’s face, his expression turned livid. Cayden turned to look at me. His eyes flashed. His lips were together in a hard line. He pressed his thumb and his index finger to the bridge of his nose, pinching them together hard. Cayden closed his blue-gray eyes, closing himself off from me.

  “Take her out of here,” Cayden commanded low through clenched jaw.

  Jayden reached out, took me by the arm, and helped me up from the chair, flinging my coat over my shoulders. He pulled me to the back section of the room. Langdon was on his feet and moving toward the paparazzi. His hands held up in an attempt to obscure their view.

  “Please move back,” Langdon told the two men who snapped pictures wildly.

  “Who’s the woman?” One of the men shouted out in a rasp. “Come on Cayden, tell us.” He continued to snap pictures.

  “Yeah, Cayden, she looks like a real sweet piece of ass. Who is she?” the other photographer yelled out, obviously trying hard to bait Cayden.

  “Bastards,” Chandler grumbled under his breath.

  Jayden wrapped his arm around the top of my shoulder while Chandler placed his hand firmly to the small of my back. We practically jogged past the kitchen, through the back hallway and finally busted through the back door. A large crowd of people all armed with cameras, cell phones, and screaming voices were gathered in the alley. It was total pandemonium, a free for all. The flashing of bright lights took over. Rapid clicking sounds seemed to fill in the temporary lulls of the screaming women. Chandler maneuvered himself in front of the flashing lights in an obvious attempt to shield me from full view.

  The SUV pulled around the side of the building. It came in our direction like a dark savior, parting and br
eaking through a large press of people. Jayden moved to my front, opened the back door of the vehicle, allowing escape as he helped me in. Chandler entered the SUV after me.

  “Cayden?” I questioned. Concerned we were leaving him in this crazy mangle of people and screaming out of control women.

  “He will be here in just a moment. Do not worry,” Chandler assured me. His voice and his face were beyond serious. “Sorry you had to hear how rude the photographers can be.”

  For some reason Chandler felt the need to apologize for the sweet piece of ass comment.

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it isn’t,” he returned.

  The back door to the club opened again. Langdon appeared first. He said something but it was difficult to make out. He shifted to Cayden’s right followed by Jayden who quickly moved to Cayden’s left. People started to yell out Cayden’s name. Screeching which sounded more like demons ascending from the pits of hell rather than human women started to pierce through the night. The crowd swayed. It became evident the shouting crowd was starting to overtake Langdon and Jayden. The periodic hand broke through the two men, swiping down Cayden’s back, his arm, his hair. Cayden moved swiftly, tucked his head, and in one quick maneuver he lunged inside of the SUV with Langdon and Jayden behind him, slamming the door shut.

  “Go,” Jayden instructed the driver.

  Cayden looked at his brother for a brief moment before he turned his attention toward me. Complete and total grief overtook his demeanor. He closed his eyes for what seemed forever. “I am so very sorry, Winter,” he said. His tone was complete defeat. “I should have never put you into this situation, brought you here. It was very….” He paused as though to gather his composure. “It was unwise of me.”

  He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. However, I understood the underlying meanings.

  “Cayden, it will be okay,” Chandler said.

  “No Chandler, it won’t be okay!” Cayden snapped, enunciating each and every word with venom. “You know what they will do now.”

  I was actually startled. Cayden, while still stunningly beautiful, was beyond angry. His expression, fierce. A kind of remorse tapped danced over me. A slow leak seemed to invade my system, allowing all the air to leave my body, causing a flat feeling deep inside. The remorse changed to self-defamation, insulting myself as well as my intelligence before the systematic beating, followed by the methodical torture of myself began. I hit every chink in my protective armor until I broke it open and bled.

  This had been a mistake and not only tonight. I should not have come, and I knew it. In fact, coming to New York, agreeing to meet Cayden, it was all an error in judgment. And I definitely experienced a lapse in reasoning if I ever hoped for anything more than complete devastation. I knew this would end badly. To believe otherwise was a total denial of the truth. The return of the twisted nightmares lurked in the coming darkness. The blame lied upon me for any harm which would fill my mind tonight. After all I walked full force ahead within the denial. Brutal, the only word to describe this realization. I allowed myself the briefest of glimpse into what I lost in an attempt to live what could have been.

  You are so stupid, Winter.

  “This was a mistake,” Cayden said, his voice hard. “I should have known better than to do this.” Cayden seemed to be talking to no one, staring down toward his hands. His words twisted in my stomach and stabbed me like a sharp edged knife.

  “We will need to take an alternative route back to the hotel,” Langdon said. He glanced at Cayden for confirmation.

  “Do it,” Cayden instructed. He pulled out his cell phone from his pant pocket.

  My eyes seemed to flicker to the faces of everyone. I observed Chandler who sat quiet, almost stoic. Jayden and Langdon looked like they were in strategic planning mode, and Cayden who maintained his fierce expression while he held a phone to his ear.

  “Zander,” Cayden said, his voice firm. “Make arrangements to move again.”

  A long pause. Cayden pressed his left hand to his temple, rubbing it in irritation while he glanced down at the floor of the SUV.

  “Yes, the sooner the better,” he said. He closed his eyes.

  I could hear a buzzing on the other end of the phone.

  Cayden opened his eyes, glanced at me briefly then said into his phone, “We will need to do some damage control. They have pictures.”

  Cayden paused again so I knew Zander was talking.

  “No, Zander, they have pictures of Winter.” Cayden’s brow furrowed deep. “Just get it done.” Another long pause. “Yes,” Cayden said before he flipped his phone shut, evidently still angry.

  The words from earlier tonight skipped through my mind as though a taunt. Chandler had told me, I doubt we will see any photographers but if we do, you are here with me. Do you understand? Of course, I understood. It made sense. While I did not want attention and chose to live a fairly obscure life, even protecting my life, protecting my writing career, I did so due to being uncomfortable with who I was, and who I should be. The loss of Austin changed me so much that I did not care for people to know me. And really, how could they know me? I did not know myself.

  Things were different for Cayden, though. He could not afford attention, or at least not the type of attention which might harm his career, his image. He lived a very public life. A life which played out in front of the cameras. It was a different type of protection which Cayden sought. Cayden would not want to be seen with me. Of course he needed to do some damage control. This was a mistake. His words should not have stabbed at me, because I knew I could not be part of his world. It was never meant for me. So while I may have wanted to pretend, clearly I wouldn’t be good for Cayden’s image. And he wasn’t good for my heart.

  At least it would end. I could try to recover. I had my way out, my easy exit, my graceful escape. I found a reason to stay away from Cayden Cain. If I allowed myself to continue with this lie it would rip the remaining portion of my tattered heart apart. Perhaps I should look at Cayden’s anger and disgust as a blessing in disguise. Cayden did not want anyone to see me out with him. I understood. After all why would he? He was young, rich, beautiful, famous, and shooting across the horizon of Hollywood bright and luminous. In contrast, I maintained a broken existence. Unsure, no longer in my youth with no hint of luminosity remaining in me. Heck, the age difference alone should be embarrassing for him. I, Winter Perri, no one of any consequence and closer to forty than to thirty, already knew the truth. Cayden Cain was unattainable for someone like me.

  In fact, let’s be honest. I needed to be brutally honest with myself. No one knew Winter Perri any longer. Cayden didn’t even know Winter Perri. He thought he knew Winter Wells, the woman who hid from the world behind her romance novels. The woman who created an alternative universe through the written word so she didn’t have to live within this one. I could never hope to be more than what I was. What was I anyway? Worn, busted, damaged goods. I could not relive a life which never happened. I knew this. It had to be more than unintelligent to even try. My Austin was gone, never to come back. I would not find him in Cayden’s life.

  I allowed myself to see, to look into Cayden’s face. I observed the sheer youth of him and basked in his beauty which was otherworldly, knowing my thoughts were right. I could never survive him. Pretending on my part would only bring me pain. This knowledge would set me free from the haunting presence of Cayden Cain, and if not set me fully free, at least it would give me reason to set myself free.

  Yes, I told myself. Walk away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  DAZE

  The SUV came to a stop at the back of the hotel. Jayden nodded to Cayden and exited the vehicle.

  Jayden called to me, extending out his hand. “Winter.”

  I took Jayden’s hand and briefly glanced at Cayden’s face which held a pained expression. Cayden’s dark brows were pushed together, creating a deep furrowed crease upon his forehead. His eyes flashed, but not with a sense of
life. They sparked with a sense of sorrow, regret. I reached out to touch him. He diverted his eyes from me. I pulled my hand back. Pain struck me as thought I had been bashed in the stomach.

  Jayden helped me out of the black monstrosity of a vehicle. Within a moment, Jayden had his arm around my shoulders. He moved me forward, away from Cayden. I turned my head to glance over my right shoulder. I watched with a sense of finality as the SUV pulled away.

  “Where are they going?” I asked. I could hear the sadness in my own voice.

  Jayden’s demeanor was stiff. “Cayden can no longer stay here. It is no longer wise.”

  I heard Zander call out, “Winter!” as if he were worried.

  We entered into the hotel, Jayden with his arm wrapped firmly around my shoulders. He guarded me from no one. It was finally quiet. I saw Zander. He stood inside the doors of the hotel, waiting for me. I observed a sense of relief overtake his face.

  “We are leaving,” he said rather abruptly.

  “All right, where are we going?”

  Zander’s voice was filled with authority, his demeanor rigid and business like as he explained. “I have leased us a home outside of the city. We will be going there. I have your luggage; it is in the car. You need not worry about going back to your suite. Everything has been arranged so try not to panic. I will keep my promise to you and try to keep you out of all of this mess.”

  Jayden continued to walk me forward, through the main foyer of the hotel then out the front doors into the waiting Cadillac. Zander led the way. A strange silence filled the car. Richard never said a word. No hello, no greeting, he just drove. I pulled my gaze back to my hands which were folded in my lap and wondered where Cayden was, where had they taken him? But then I reprimanded myself. I had to let him go. Maybe my quick exit and Cayden’s leaving was a good thing. I knew I needed to get on with the job at hand, finish the script so I could get back to Colorado. I kept reminding myself Cayden’s not good for me, allowing myself to see the anger on his face, hear the tone in his voice. We will need to do some damage control, he had said.