“Alexander,” I say softly. I wonder if they call him Alex.
I drop my head down to my folded arms on the desk. Shit, what am I doing? That’s Marvy’s life, not mine. And certainly this Alexander is not in my future.
Bitterly, I vault myself away from the computer and roll my chair back to the worktable. The vacuum is my nemesis so I grab the nearest broken item from the metal shelf and pry the damn blender base apart. Idle hands and all that.
Yet throughout the day, I catch myself reminiscing. The feel of his lips and the tingle of his hands on my body, curls my toes every damn time. I can’t get it out of my head how he went from savage kisses to gentle ones. As if he knew I wasn’t Marvy.
Despondently sitting in front of the scattered vacuum parts, I lift my head and stare at the ceiling.
“Bullshit! Stop it. Focus,” I half-convincingly say to myself.
With a whooshing exhale, I pick up the screw driver and start on the broken vacuum again feeling guilt about giving Mr. P. my workload; moreover, guilt for wishing.
AFTER DINNER, I’M in the thick of my math computations again. Since I’d already done my assignments for my other classes and erased Marvy’s stupid comment, this is the last challenge. I haven’t thought about the guy, Alexander Rush, since I left the shop. My thoughts wander as the math solutions become harder. My mind drifts thinking of Marvy. How easily she worked the problems. I tap my pencil on #7 and my eyes float to the bruises on my arm. Alex’s words pull from my memory, “I told you he was dangerous.” With a few clicks, I pull up the video playback of the previous night and go to the scene where I left off earlier.
I fast forward through the black screen for the next fifty-two minutes of the playback. My irritation festering with each change of second to minute. Then a light flicks on, Marvy is in Alex’s bathroom. She rakes her fingers through her hair, fixes her dress, and runs her tongue across her teeth removing residual reapplied lipstick. Once satisfied, she turns and over her shoulder gives her reflection a wink and a kiss before turning off the light.
Rolling my eyes, I internally vomit. GAWD! Such a narcissist!
Marvy navigates the penthouse with ease in the dark, her familiarity of the layout is obvious. A stab of jealousy pierces me.
Forget him. He’s hers and doesn’t know dick about you. I drop my eyes and purse my lips knowing I covet Marvy’s relationship.
Bitterly, I watch Marvy reenter the club. In the back, another bouncer holds a velvet rope open for her. Marvy passes through the thick curtains to what must be some kind of VIP lounge. Floor to ceiling etched mirrored walls emulate a tripling of its actual size. The seating consists of big, over-stuffed, fluffy royal blue sofas which line the walls around the room. In a matching color, leather upholstered ottoman-like tables with wrought iron legs sit between servers milling amongst the selected guests. People are even smoking.
Marvy saunters to the bar and through the mirrored back wall, I see her wink at the bartender. When did she get so winkey? She hands her clutch to him as he places what I guess is a rock salted Margarita in front of her.
Accepting the drink, she lifts it and tips it back to take a sip. The glass hovers in place, but the view begins to waiver back and forth. I look into one of the mirrors and see Marvy’s eyes close as she sways to an unheard beat. Her head smoothly leans side-to-side as her body moves opposite. Slowly, she opens her eyes half-way and that stupid smirky smile threatens.
The unwanted drink is left at the bar as she slinks her hips to the beat, moving onto the dance floor. Synced to the music, the lights flashed, radiating Marvy through the darkness. Circling her head, she brings her shoulders up as her body pulsates. Eyes closed, Marvy lets the music take over. She swings her head making her hair fall to her face. When she angles up, it falls away uncovering Marvy's slightly open mouth in mid-sigh. She raises her hand, drawing it up past her moving hips, then past her breast. The brown tresses caress her face then swoop in a wave of long curls. Tilting her head to the sky, her hand goes down the thick locks then descends the front of her body. Marvy arches her head back as her hand slowly moves down to her navel and continues to go farther below. Rolling her head to the side, her hips begin to gain momentum following the beat. Including me, she has the room hypnotized. She is a snake-charmer’s pungi with the elegance of her movements, though she’s adrift in her own world of pleasure.
With her hands moving down the side of her face, Marvy’s fingers impetuously touch the sides of her body meeting at her pelvis, pushing down to her thighs. Slowly she moves them to grace around her thighs, again moving them up the sides of her body. One by one, her hands reach and dip as if to touch stars, pulling them down to earth one at a time. Then one hand gracefully lowers in front of her face to touch her opposite shoulder, the other falls behind her. She stands there, eyes still closed, wrapped in her own embrace, and the dance floor lights dim to dark.
A faint breath frees itself from my burdened chest. “Fuck,” seeps between my dry lips.
SITTING IN ONE OF the big fluffy royal blue sofas, Marvy drapes an arm over the arm rest. One of the servers must have recognized her as he offers a cigarette, and then lights it for her. He nods his head and twitches a grin.
Marvy seems to be idly people watching, or perhaps waiting for someone. Otherwise, she is just sitting there smoking.
Puzzled, my brow furrows. What are you waiting for?
The server brings her a drink and then leaves. After a few minutes, she extinguishes the cigarette and stands, abandoning the mostly full drink on the table. She starts for the exit when the view pans down to a hand on Marvy’s mid-section. A rose gifts itself from behind with the other hand. Marvy turns to face her rose-bearing presenter.
My chair is getting a lot of abuse over the last few hours. I almost fall out of it at the sight of this one. I’d guesstimate he’s in his early-thirties with salt and pepper hair, mostly salt. But holy hell, he’s gorgeous! His face is young, vibrant, and sharply handsome with ice blue eyes that squint when he smiles. A wide, muscular body that make my hands itch to explore is molded nicely in his V-neck shirt, dark sport coat, and jeans.
My eyes bulge between exaggerated blinks. Holy shit, Marvy! You be a play–ah, girl! He’s HOT too!
This one leads her to an open, half-oval booth. Most likely reserved, as all the other tables brim to capacity with people. Two mammoth looking men stand at both sides with their hands clasped in front of them.
I cock my head to the side. Bodyguards?
They talk for a bit and then he gets out of the booth, extending his hand to Marvy. Arm-in-arm they exit the club and walk to a restaurant. Volta la Terrea in a beautiful font was etched on the glass door the man held open for Marvy.
Picking up the mint, I roll it between my fingers. That’s where this came from. Odd that this place is still open though.
Volta la Terrea has the air of affluence, to the point of idiocy; the kind of grandiose décor that screams excessiveness. By the look of this guy, he could afford anything on the menu and then some. They must be having a good time as he is laughing and holding Marvy’s hand, stroking it with his thumb. She didn’t seem to notice that they are the only patrons, but I do. After a meal of small plate appetizers, he stands to escort her from the restaurant. Outside, he draws her close and kisses her. It looks welcomed at first, but then I see his eyes. They are open and calculating, with wild flashes in them. My breath catches and I gulp down hard. Marvy tries to separate, but he snares her forearm and yanks her back for another kiss. My heart clenches with the merciless brutality of it.
Brushing my arm, I stroke the bruises. He’s the one that gave me these.
Walking back to the club, they head back into the VIP lounge when the view becomes erratic, repeatedly scanning the room. In the corner of the monitor, I see a shadow of Alex’s slightly disheveled form in the white dress shirt. Even in the dimness of the room, I can see his eyes glowing fire within them. Marvy must be nervous, the view pans right pas
t him. When the man motions for him to join them, Alex threads through the crowd, clearly peeved. He slides into the booth next to Marvy, handing her the sparkled clutch she left with the bartender. The conversation between them appears cordial, but I get an unnerving feeling about the older man. There’s something wrong about the way he moves his hands. His facial expressions are laced with veiled malice. A sticky, prickling sensation spreads over my skin and my stomach constricts. There is something unstable behind his eyes. A deception hidden under a thick mask of convention. My pulse and breath quicken, but for all the wrong reasons.
The man’s tight lipped smile turns into a sneer. Perhaps it’s with a delivered insult because the next thing I know, Alex lunges at the man from across the table. Marvy, caught between them and the security guards, jostles the view and then it goes black. The recording ends a few seconds later.
“This is like a bad movie, except I’m in it. I’m the freaking main character,” I say, heaving a breath and leaning back into my chair. “Marvy, you need to be careful with my body.”
I pull the ear cuff camera off my ear and look at it. Thankfully, the damage I didn’t notice before is repairable. Taking my tools out from the bottom desk drawer, I start to work on it. If she goes out tonight, Marvy will need it. I’ll need it. Before going to bed, I make a recording for Marvy with a note on the desk telling her to play it and leave the video file open.
FLIPPING MY HAIR OVER, I swiftly begin to braid the long black locks. I love my long curly hair loose, but based on last night I think it’s better to keep it contained. When I straighten, I check myself out, admiring the high neck and crimson beaded cocktail dress. My nails look like shit so I sit at the desk to redo them quickly. It’s a crap job, but I don’t have time to perfect them. When dry, I pull up my black stockings and clasp it to the garter belt. I’m grateful Trista has a thing for running, which I don’t get, but it does give me great stems. I love the feeling of the silk sliding over my smooth legs. Slow, inspecting strokes on each leg check for any snags, but I don’t stop at the garter clasp. Mmmmmmm…
Only then, does Trista’s note catch my attention. With an acerbic grimace and a side glance at the monitor, I realize it’s still on. I cock my head perplexed. Trista wants to talk to me?
“Hey Marvy,” Trista’s image says on the screen. “I figure you’re going out again tonight if you’re watching this. That said, I fixed the ear cuff cam and added a mic so we can have audio. Last night was pretty intense, but you got out with only a few bruises on your arm so I guess it wasn’t so bad.”
I scoff at her assessment of the situation.
She continues to yammer, “I got the car back this morning, please don’t do that again. Besides, you used all my cash until payday. I’m saying this because despite how stupidly dangerous your actions were, I was impressed by the way you handled yourself. I hope I’m right when I say, I trust you to not get me killed. You probably don’t want to hear this, but I’m gonna say it anyway. I think you should stay away from that older guy, the one that took you to Volta la Terrea. I have a bad feeling about him. He’s dangerous. You may already know that and don’t care, but I do. I care about what happens to my body when you’re using it. I have plans for my–our future–so please don’t mess it up. Oh! And before you go, can you help me with #7 and #12? You seemed to know what you were doing last night with those too. Please don’t shred my work this time. I don’t want to redo everything tomorrow. Thanks!”
Jeering, I roll my eyes. “It wouldn’t have been shredded if you got it right. Are we going to have to do all your math homework for the rest of our lives? Yeesh!”
I smile though, knowing Trista knew what happened last night and is doing things for me, not fighting against me for a change. Sauntering over to the closet, I put my red stiletto heels on, and turn off the light before leaving the room.
A few seconds go by and I turn the light back on, go to the desk and finish off #7 and #12.
THE MORNING LIGHT is unusually glaring in my room. Disoriented, I squint my eyes to adjust and shield them with my hand until they focus. My breath speeds up and cold needles stab through my entire body. I’m not going to freak out. My eyes snap back and forth at an unnerving speed. I’m not in my own bed. Not in my own pajamas. Not in my own house.
“What…the…fu…?” I take in my new surroundings. “What did you do to me now, Marvy?”
Puzzled, I run my hand across the sheets in the gigantic super king-sized bed. They’re the most luxurious sheets, with the softest pillows I’ve ever laid upon. I angle my head to look up. The wall behind the headboard is sculpted like waves in a rough ocean. On the nightstand is a picture of a beautiful girl in the arms of a handsome familiar face that smiles back at me. My eyes burn with the image.
I rotate my head to view the room with the floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding me. I’m in a corner bedroom with an amazing city-scape view. Hung opposite from each other on the hallway walls are beautiful pictures of places I’ve only seen in commercials, books, or in my dreams.
Trying to sit up, I push with my elbows until a searing pain scorches my body making my eyes roll back with a gasping inhale.
The door swings open and Alex rushes into the room, almost dropping a breakfast tray when he sees me. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Not so fast!”
I sink my body back into the feathery mass of pillows. Ache after ache seeps into the bed, draining me.
“Alex?” I mutter, pulling the covers up to my neck. A tickle in my stomach causes a diminutive smile to twitch my lips.
A divot forms between his eyebrows as he looks at me strangely. “Alex? You’ve never called me that. I didn’t even know you knew my real name.”
I chomp down on my tongue. Ah, shit. Way to go, stupid!
Quickly changing the subject, I blurt, “Where am I?” Another stupid thing to ask based on the photos in the room.
He smirks, seemingly amused by my question. “Um…you’re in my bed.”
“Why?”
I’m not sure I want to know. Without a doubt, this is Marvy’s doing.
Maybe too drunk and she fell down some stairs or something stupid like that. Alex probably brought her here since he has no idea where we live.
“You don’t remember?” he asks with an eyebrow quirked.
Instinctively, I reach for my ear, searching for my cuff.
“Looking for your ear cuff? I tried to wash the blood out of your hair, so I put it on the dresser,” he says pointing to my left.
“Blood in my hair? You gave me a bath?” Incredulously, I peek under the covers. I hadn’t realized I’m mostly naked wearing only a flimsy, silk thong. Perhaps I am going to freak out a little since Marvy always gets me home. Waking in a stranger’s bed can do that to a girl I guess. I fist the covers, knuckling them under my chin. Attempting to roll over to get my ear cuff, the pain shoots through me causing a groan to release all the air from my chest.
He walks over, retrieving the silver jeweled ear cuff and hands it to me. “Here.”
I try to smile, but my face hurts and is tight. “Ow.” Gingerly touching my face, my cheek is puffy and swollen. There is also a small cut on my lower lip. “Blood? What happened?”
Warily, Alex sits on the bed next to me and concern takes over his tone. “You shouldn’t have come back last night. Bryson was on a real tear I heard.”
I stiffen and push back deeper into the pillows.
Marvy, if you can hear me, I got my ass kicked last night thanks to you. I’m never going to help you again! I’m going to start handcuffing myself at night.
Without warning, tears begin to flow. I don’t know why, but fat drops slide down my face.
Alex climbs onto the bed, lying next to me and pulls me into his arms. “Shhh…it’s all right now. You’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you.” The warmth of his body and his concern for me causes a shudder.
Sniffling, I realize I’m frustrated and angry at Marvy. I haven’t transitioned out disoriented in a long ti
me, let alone in someone else’s bed. Pushing him away, I wipe my tears with my palms. The aggravation laces my tone, “Just tell me what happened. Don’t ask me any questions; just tell me what you know and how I got here. And where are my clothes?”
A bit nonplussed, he pulls away with my off–putting change in demeanor. “You came to the club last night. Dillon said you were looking for me, but you went in the VIP room when he said Bryson was looking for you. He told you that Bryson was in a mood, but you didn’t listen and went back there anyway. Dillon said you were dressed to kill, so he called me.
“By the time I got downstairs, I saw Bryson dragging you into his car. I followed you to a house in The Hills. Armed guards were everywhere so it took me a while to get into the house. By the time I found you in the bathroom, you were pretty beat up. I was going to take you to the hospital, but you were very insistent you didn’t want to go.”
Marvy hates hospitals. Ever since…
“I didn’t know what to do, so I brought you here. You never told me where you lived. But then again, I guess I really don’t know you that well.”
Rubbing my eyes with my thumb and index finger, I don’t bother to meet his cautious eyes. “No, you really don’t. Trust me.” It hurts to breathe, I’m in a stranger’s bed, and I was kidnapped last night. I release a solid sigh of frustration. “I don’t even know me that well.”
“What does that mean?” he asks, moving off the bed.
“How long have I been out?” I ask looking around for a clock. Apparently, Marvy doesn’t wear watches and I have no idea where my phone is.
Pieces Of One, Part 1 (The Dark Life Collection) Page 4
