by Emerson Rose
When I open my eyes, I roll my head left. Down the row I can see a woman looking at me through the windows of three or four cars. She has crazy eyes, the kind that don’t look like they belong to a human but an animal. Her hair is wild and dirty, sticking up all over the place, and she has something, dirt maybe, smeared across her cheek.
She knows I see her but she doesn’t look away. Her stare is hard and psychotic. She’s freaking me out.
I look behind me to make sure she isn’t glaring at someone else. Nope, it’s definitely me. My imagination starts to work overtime. I’m visualizing her jumping out of her car and running across the hoods of the cars that separate us. When she arrives on the Ferrari’s hood, she smashes the glass of my window and grabs me by the throat and starts to choke me out.
Fucking hyperactive imagination. I look away and search for a way to lock my doors. Why is this damn car so complicated?
I feel faint, tunnel vision blurs my head and my hearing starts to fade. Damn it, I can’t pass out until I find the locks! I fumble with my phone and try to dial Marcus, but my fingers won’t do what I tell them to.
I risk another glance to my left. She’s gone. Or at least she’s not where she was a second ago. I whip around in my seat and look behind me and out both sides again, but she’s nowhere to be found.
I breathe easier knowing she’s gone and my head clears but I’m still not getting out of this car alone. No fucking way. That woman looked insane and angry and it felt directed toward me.
With shaking hands, I find Marcus’s number on my phone and press it successfully. He answers after half a ring.
“What’s wrong, Imani?” he says, alarmed.
“Um, can you send someone out to the parking lot to walk me back inside?” “What… why?”
“I just had a super creepy stare-down with a woman in a car a few down from yours. She’s gone, but I’m a little worked up,” I say, downplaying the scene.
“Lock the doors, the button is on the right. I’ll send someone out. Do not move, stay in the car. Do you understand?” Before he even finishes speaking, a muscle-bound man with a goatee comes barreling out the back door toward the car.
“Marcus, a big man with a goatee is coming toward the car.”
“That’s Nick. I sent him, let him bring you inside.”
“Ok.” I unlock the doors that took me five minutes to lock and cut the engine. Nick opens the door, scanning the parking lot without a word
I wonder how many guys like Nick are on Marcus’s bankroll? He tucks me under his arm and leads me back into the building. Marcus has made his way to the door by now and is waiting just inside for me. He snatches me and pulls me against his chest as soon as I’m within his reach.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, just a little freaked out is all.”
“You’re shaking. Come on.” He leads me back to his office with Nick in tow. Nick magically produces a blanket and a soda. Marcus motions for me to sit on the couch and Nick places the drink on the table and hands me the blanket. I take it gratefully and wrap it around my shoulders. Nick takes Marcus’s crutches so he can sit down on the coffee table facing me between my knees.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
“I was just sitting there talking to Lana. We hung up, and I felt like somebody was watching me. When I looked over, this whacked-out looking woman was sitting in a car three or four down, glaring at me, and she wouldn’t look away. I couldn’t find the locks, I thought I was gonna pass out, I couldn’t dial your number… I… I…”
“Calm down, Imani, breathe. You’re fine, she’s gone, and I am here. Nobody is going to hurt you, baby.” He speaks in a quiet, soothing tone while I take deep breaths in through my nose and blow them out through my mouth until I’m calmer.
“What did she look like? Can you describe her to me?”
“Um, yeah. Brown skin, like yours, black crazy hair, she was dirty, and she had creepy eyes. She was thin, too thin, like her face was sunken in at the cheeks, like a meth head.”
I can’t believe I remember so much about her.
“I’m sorry to have to ask you, but you will remember more right now than if I wait until later. Everything is clearer when the incident is fresh in your mind.”
“It’s ok, I think I’m ok now. It’s just… having someone stare me down in a parking lot… behind a restaurant. It hit a little too close to home.”
“Come here.” He pulls me into his arms. He cradles my face and kisses me softly on the mouth. “You’re alright now. She was probably picking somebody up and saw my stunning lady in my fabulous car, got jealous, and gave you a dirty look.”
“Thanks for the reassurance, but it felt weirder than that. Can we just go home now?”
“Yes. We can go home, but first, drink,” he says, handing me the soda. “I do need to make a stop, though, just one.”
“Shopping?”
“Yes. Shopping.”
“You’re incorrigible, you know that?” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Yeah, and your point is?”
“Never mind.” He’s also a bully, but I’m not going to waste my breath telling him so.
Nick is hovering outside the office door and he follows us outside. I watch as he climbs into a SUV. It sags under the heavy weight of the muscle-bound man.
“Is Nick going home?”
“No, he will be following us for a while, just as a precaution.”
“It’s not necessary; it was probably nothing. I just let my imagination get away with me.”
“No, Imani, he’s our shadow for a while; you might as well get used to it,” he says, with his own particular kind of finality.
“Ok, but you should know I feel guilty having you pay a bodyguard because I freaked out.”
“Nick gets paid anyway. Now he’s getting paid to drive around. Think of it like a promotion; he doesn’t have to be cooped up in the club at Dominus all day.”
“Promotion, huh? Ok, I’ll accept that.” A few minutes later our little caravan pulls out of the parking lot and we are going shopping. Yay.
Twenty-Eight
Marcus has eclectic taste in music. An eerie contemporary piece of music plays as we drive through the misty streets of Seattle.
Marcus eyes me off and on while directing me through traffic. I wonder if he’s evaluating my mood or reading my mind. I’m a firm believer that he is capable of both.
I feel stupid for getting all worked up earlier. It was just a nutty lady looking at me in a parking lot… I hope.
“I wanted to blindfold you and drive you here myself. Fucking cast.”
“Blindfold?”
“Mmhmm, we can still do that later, if you like.”
I do not like.
I don’t think so anyway. I may have to tell Marcus more about what happened during my attack.
Sex with him has been phenomenal, and I trust him, but… a blindfold? Since I met him I’ve conquered every fear about having sex, but the thought of being blindfolded or restrained, that still makes me break out into a cold sweat.
“Turn here.” I make the turn into the Pacific Mall parking lot.
“We’re really going shopping, like at the mall?”
“Yes, ‘like at the mall,’” he answers sarcastically and rolls his eyes.
“You know you should have a handicap hanger on your rearview mirror; we could park right up front.”
He hates the idea of being disabled as much as I hate the idea of going shopping. I risk taking my eyes off the wheel for a split second to see his reaction and I’m damn glad I did, it’s hilarious! I giggle when I see his deep frown and tight-set jaw. The sound of my laughter dissipates some of his irritation because when I peek out of the corner of my eye again he is gazing lovingly at me.
“Imani, you confound me. No one I have ever known has smarted off to me like you do. If I weren’t in this cast, I would punish you.”
I pull the car into a spot, turn it off, and face him i
n my seat. He may complain about my smart mouth, but his eyes are smiling. “You love it; you know you do.”
“I will not dignify that with an answer, Miss Jefferson. Now get out of the car.”
“Where are we going?”
“I didn’t tell you for a reason, it’s called a surprise. Now help me out of the damn car.”
He is so bossy, but that’s just Marcus. I help him out of the car, and we start toward the main entrance of the mall. I can sense Nick following us, just far enough behind to give us privacy but close enough to be of assistance if necessary.
Why won’t he tell me where we are going? Probably because he knows I won’t accept whatever he’s planning on giving to me, that’s why. After a little maneuvering through the mall I spot his destination. Tiffany’s. Oh, no. If that’s where we are going, he was smart to keep it secret; there’s no way I’m taking jewelry from Marcus.
I know him well enough to know it won’t be anything reasonable. Everything he does is big, expensive, and overboard.
“Um, I’m not going into Tiffany’s if that’s what you’re planning,” I say, nodding my head toward the only store in this mall he’d be caught dead in. I stop, and he lets his head drop back on his shoulders and shakes it back and forth.
“Yes, you are. You will not deny me the satisfaction of spoiling you.”
“Wrong. I will most certainly deny you that satisfaction. I’m a nurse; I don’t wear jewelry or fancy things that come from a place like that. It’s just not me. I can’t accept any more gifts from you.”
And the face-off begins. He leans on his crutches, staring at me for what seems like forever, willing to wait however long it takes. A few minutes later he breaks the silence.
“I am going to stand here until you say you will go into that store and you will accept my gift and you will love it.”
“You’re gonna get mighty tired standing there on those crutches then, Castillo.”
“Maybe so, but you have not had the pleasure of experiencing my stamina. I’m not fucking around, Imani. I’ll stand here forever.”
Oh. My. God. He’s serious. He always gets what he wants and he’s always right. How could I have forgotten? It seems he’s forgotten that I’m stubborn too, however.
I’m standing my ground. I glance around and see Nick in the distance, settled on a leather couch scanning the area. I wonder if he knows what’s going on? I’ll bet he took a seat as soon as we got here, anticipating this would be a long wait.
We face each other while people walk around us. A few stare, others whisper, but most just pretend we aren’t there; those are the smart shoppers.
His eyes are trained on me, but I avoid them. If I look at him, I’ll cave. He knows it, and I’m sure that’s why he continues with the stand-off. I think we’ve been standing here for a good thirty minutes, not long really, but I’m in heels and he’s on crutches. I’m sick of this game.
“I want to go home.”
“I want to give you a gift,” he responds, matter-of-factly.
“Marcus.” I stomp my foot. Damn it, I didn’t mean to do that.
“Imani.” He’s getting fed up with me, I can hear it in his tone, just a little longer…
“Come on, I really want to go home,” I whine.
“No, but you can stomp your tiny little foot again. It’s adorable, and hot. You’re getting me hard right here in the middle of the mall.”
He’s pissing me off and turning me on which inadvertently makes me more stubborn. We stand for another fifteen minutes. I’m steaming mad, alternating my weight from foot to foot in my heels, and he’s probably imagining me in nothing but my heels.
Marcus smiles, rocking around in little circles casually on his crutches.
Finally, I humph and turn toward Tiffany’s, submitting to the most pigheaded man on earth. He follows, and when we are near the entrance of the store I see his reflection in the glass. He has a huge smile spread across his smug face.
The second we pass through the doors, a woman dressed impeccably in a white pantsuit approaches us.
“Angela,” he addresses her blandly by her first name.
“Mr. Castillo, so good to see you. I have your package all ready for you.”
“This is Imani Jefferson.” He introduces me, and I politely extend my hand. I’ll play nice, I guess. The poor woman doesn’t know we just had a forty-five-minute stare-off in the middle of the mall.
“So nice to meet you, Imani.”
“You too, Angela, is it?”
“Yes, Marcus has spoken highly of you, Miss Jefferson. You must be very special,” Angela gushes, and Marcus doesn’t like it. I wonder what he’s been saying to her about me?
“We need to sit down, Angela.” Marcus is irritated with Angela for overstepping her boundaries.
“Oh, of course, I’m so sorry. This way.” She steers us to an area in the rear of the store where we take a seat on a plush Tiffany blue couch.
Angela looks nervous. I wonder how long she’s known Marcus. She responds to him like everyone else I’ve met who knew him before his accident. Apprehensive and scared.
“I’ll just get the box,” she says, smoothing the front of her jacket at the waist.
“Good idea. We would like to get home.”
He’s so rude; now I feel even more sorry for her yet at the same time I appreciate his directness, and I know he’s tired after a long night of watching me sleep. I want to go home, too.
Nick stands just inside the door, and I notice no sales person is approaching him.
“Do they know Nick is with us?” I ask.
“Yes, they do. I’m a regular here. He’s been with me here a time or two.”
I’ve never been jealous of anyone or anything in my life until right now and I shoot off my mouth before I think.
“Really? So, this is your hot spot where you buy all of your girlfriends gifts?” Why the hell did I just say that? A deep wrinkle forms between his brows and his lips press into a straight line.
“This is not my hot spot, Imani. They sell a variety of items here. I do wear cuff links and a watch. And, for your information, I have never bought a woman anything here, or anywhere for that matter.”
“Oh.” I'm so embarrassed; what the fuck is wrong with me? I shut my mouth and wait patiently next to him while he looks at me with one brow arched in annoyance.
I can feel the heat of his thigh against mine, even when we drive each other nuts that magnetism hums between us. As ticked off as I am with Marcus for forcing this on me, I still can’t wait to get home and relax with him. Angela sure is taking forever to get one little box.
I survey the store while we wait and notice we’re the only people in here. That’s weird, or maybe not. What do I know? I’ve never shopped in a place like this. Maybe it’s by appointment only?
Angela teeters back on her stilettos with a signature blue Tiffany’s box in her hands. She gives it to Marcus and hustles away.
He turns to me on the couch, and for a moment I am apprehensive. That box isn’t small enough to be… no, it couldn’t be… that would be crazy.
He looks at the box in his hands for a moment, and my pulse starts to whoosh in my ears. He looks up and opens his mouth to speak but closes it once before starting again.
“Imani, before the accident I thought my life was over. I had met every goal I ever set for myself; everything I wanted was mine. I was wrong, though. I didn’t have it all and I had no idea how much I was missing. It took a car accident, a near drowning, and a coma to find you. For the first time in my life I have calm in my heart, and that’s because of you.”
I sit silently, not wanting to break the spell.
“When I told you that you were my savior, I meant it. Not many things make me happy but spoiling you does, so please accept this.”
My stubbornness evaporates and my body melts into the couch. He places the box in my hand and hot tears flood my eyes. I open it and inside there is a wide-cuff bracelet, encrusted
with diamonds and sapphires in a tiny, delicate scallop pattern. It’s exquisite. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s too much, I knew it would be but nothing could have prepared me for this. My head starts to swim for the umpteenth time this month, and Marcus’s voice is warped when he speaks to me.
“Imani, breathe, baby, you’re going to pass out. Damn it, you have the strangest reaction to excitement.” The sound of blood rushing in my ears is a clear warning that I need to take deep breaths. After a few, my head begins to right itself and I can respond.
“Oh my… it’s… it’s amazing. I love it. Thank you, Marcus.”
He takes the cuff and places it on my wrist and then he gathers my hands in his.
“I want you to leave it on… always.”
I launch myself into his lap. Forgetting about the employees who are watching, the cast on his leg, and Nick guarding the door.
As resistant as I am to accept such an extravagant gift from him, his speech has neutralized any opposition I may have had. If this is what makes him happy, then I acquiesce.
His spoiling ways are going to take some getting used to. This man doesn’t do anything small or subtle. It’s the same in all aspects of his personality, including the way he cares for me. I belong to him. Every molecule of me is his.
Twenty-Nine
When we return home, I find an evening gown hanging from the canopy over my bed. Marcus informed me that dinner tonight is black tie formal attire only, which I think is sort of funny since we’re staying home.
At least my bracelet will be appropriate. I don’t know how much things like this cost and, frankly, I’m afraid to wear it in public. Crazy people cut off limbs for expensive jewelry, and I’d like to keep all of my limbs.
Dressing up and staying in is fine with me. I still can’t get over how stunning the cuff is. When the light catches the diamonds, they glimmer like the setting sun on the ocean at dusk.
I sigh, and that niggle of doubt tugs at my happiness like a child pulling at the hem of her mother’s dress for attention. It reminds me of how tenuous this relationship is.
