by Angela Blake
Her mother gasped, and then demanded, “Are you all right? When did this happen –“
“I don’t know,” Danielle told her, “Maybe a few days ago. Maybe this morning. Who knows?”
She smiled, a vicious one, “But who cares, right?”
“Danielle, baby,” Her mother began, but she cut her off.
“Don’t tell me again, mom. I need some time to myself. Away from all of you. All of this.”
She closed the phone, and stared at it for a few moments, before her face twisted and she threw it against the table, not at all caring that it broke.
Oh, God! She wanted to break something! Everything.
She wanted to scream, and hurt someone, let them feel the pain that was coursing through her body right now.
She wasn’t a fucking toy!
She wasn’t there to be used and then discarded!
She wasn’t some thing to be abandoned each and every time.
Maybe this was her own fault. She sank to her knees and stared at her reflection in the glass window.
Maybe this was just the person she was.
Was it that wrong to just want to be wanted? For herself and not what she could offer someone?
The tears never came.
She curled up where she had collapsed and just stared at the window, feeling disgust build up. She hated this.
It was hours later, when she found the strength to sit up, and then stand up.
She walked over to her safe and took out the gun she had bought.
***
It was past midnight.
Sean used the grapple hook for leverage and slid onto the balcony.
Hopefully, Danielle was fast asleep.
His hand went to the window, his lock kit ready, but he stilled when he saw that the window was unlocked.
Had she forgotten to unlock it?
Did the woman not realize that anybody could waltz in?
Fine, she was on the top floor, but he got in, didn’t he?
Hearing a crunch underneath his foot, he looked down and flashed his flashlight onto the broken pieces of a cell phone.
The blue color gave its owner’s identity away.
Why was Danielle’s phone lying smashed on the ground?
His blood ran cold.
Where was she?
There was no soft bedroom light on.
In fact, there was no light on, anywhere.
The silence was almost unnatural.
It made him uneasy.
Quickly, making his way to Danielle’s room, he peeked inside.
Her bed was made, and her safe lay open.
Where the hell was she?
Why wasn’t she here?
A thousand possibilities were running through his head, fear making his heart beat faster.
The light clicked on, and he whirled around to see Danielle sitting in a corner of the room, “Rather late for a visit.”
“Danielle.”
She was okay!
Then he noted the gun in her lap and he eyed her warily.
Her face was blank, stripped of all emotion.
“Imagine my surprise,” she said. “When I found out that somebody had broken into my apartment.”
Her tone was dry, “By the way, stellar job of covering your tracks. Your shoe print was on my balcony edge and my curtain. Somebody who’s been in the business this long should at least wipe after themselves.”
He just watched her, a little unnerved by her relaxed demeanour.
“At first I thought, ‘who would be stupid enough to break into the top floor’? I mean, there are guards stationed on each floor. Then, of course, I was a little scared.” She ran a hand through her hair, removing the strands from her face.
“I mean, somebody broke into my apartment, after all. I live alone. Two plus two and all. And then, I got angry. Because apparently I am some toy that people like to mess around with.”
Sean winced at that.
His eyes moved to the gun that lay in her lap, and he grew wary.
But if she noticed his reaction, she didn’t let on.
“So, I checked everywhere. Nothing was missing. And, I don’t know why.” She shrugged, the movement, seemingly painful. “I just remembered the way you kept staring at the statue on my mantel. I didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t even want to think about it, you know?”
She stood up, and moved slowly towards the statue. Her movement was sluggish and he noted the bruise on her arm. He made to grab her arm, but she moved out of reach.
Her eyes flew to where he was looking and she shrugged, “I fell down. The stairs. I was looking for something.”
They looked painful, Sean thought. And with the way she was limping, she probably also hurt her leg.
“The pain is almost like a relief. It’s helping me think more clearly.” She murmured.
Her tone was wrong.
He couldn’t pinpoint but there was a deep wrongness in her expression and voice that was twisting him up inside.
He took a step forward, “Danielle-“
She put her hand behind the statue on the mantel, and then tipped it over the edge.
It shattered, the sound grating his ears.
He flinched.
She watched him, “Did you think I wouldn’t know the difference between the actual one and a fake?”
She sounded curious, “I mean, I practically grew up hearing the stories about this statue. My grandmother was obsessed with it. All I had to do was touch it and I knew it was a fake.”
She watched him, “What did you say the other day? ‘Trust me, Danielle.’”
Sean’s jaw tensed, as she tapped her chin, mockingly, “You said that all I had to do was trust you.
Was it fun, Sean?” Her voice was low now, a stark vulnerability in her eyes, “Was it fun, toying with me, using me?”
A harsh sound that he realized emitted from her throat, “All you had to do was take the goddamn statue. Was this entire dance with me, necessary? Or did you just get a kick out of it?”
The words were like serrated knives on his heart, “Did you enjoy watching me fall for you, lust for you? Did you get some satisfaction out of checking out whether I was actually a frigid bitch or not?”
He found his voice, “That’s not-“
She fell for him?
His heart swelled with warmth, but she was nowhere done.
She threw her arms open, “Well, surprise. The frigid bitch seems to have a kink as well. At least I know what the next topic of discussion will be now in the next coming events.”
She stared down at her hands, and when she felt the tremble in her chest, she squelched it with a desperate fury. He could have her body, her ego, but he would not have her fucking tears.
“’Trust you’? I should have listened to my instinct and beaten you off with a ten foot pole. But I made a mistake.” She said with an air of finality. “You’ve been doing this for a while now, haven’t you?”
When Sean started, she gave him a humourless smile, “Yeah, I’m not that stupid, you moron. I recognized the picture in your room. At first, I couldn’t place it. But then, tonight, after I realized what you had done, I went online, did some digging.”
She leaned against the couch, “Isn’t it funny that a lot of places that have experienced missing art you’re nearby? At first, I thought that’s probably a coincidence. I mean, you’re rolling in money. Why would you want to go around stealing?”
A dry chuckle, “But there were events, and you attended all of them.”
She clutched the back of the sofa with her hands, and watched him, “Of course, I can’t prove any of it. Not that I intended to, anyway.”
Sean took a step forward, and reached into the dark satchel that was the same colour as the clothes he wore. He took out the statue, “I came to return this.”
Danielle widened her eyes, mockingly, “Oh? Was it worthless? Or did it no
t go well with your collection?”
“I would rather have you,” he told her bluntly. “I came to you for the statue. I stayed because I started developing feelings for you. And then I decided I would rather have you than the statue.”
Danielle smiled at him, “What a great speech. Let me come swoon in your arms.”
For the first time in his life, Sean drew a blank.
This was the singular, most important person in his life right now. And he had just screwed this up.
“Danielle, if you would calm down and listen-“ He took a step forward.
“Calm down?” She asked, sounding surprised. “I am calm. But no, I don’t want to listen. I don’t want to hear an explanation. I don’t want you to sweet talk me. You know why?”
She bared her teeth, “Because I deserve better than that. I’m done. I’m done with you, my parents, this place.”
“What do you mean ‘done’?” Sean asked, his heartbeat echoing in his ears.
“Just what I said,” she said, slowly, pushing herself off the couch and making her way towards him. “I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” He repeated, stupidly.
“I have an inheritance. Time to use it. I’ll travel the world. Get my life back together. Have a few affairs along the way. You know the whole shebang.”
A few affairs?
His blood heated up at that, and he knew reason would not get through to her.
“Fine,” he purred. “Go. Go wherever you please.”
She blinked at that, and he continued, “But wherever you go, I will follow.”
“Excuse me?”
Sean stepped forward, crowding her space, “I collect treasures, Danielle. And I found the most valuable one here. I found you. So, I’ll be damned if I let you leave me.”
Danielle scoffed at him, but he detected the hint of uncertainty in the sound, “Get off your high horse, Sean. You got your statue. I’m not some booty prize that you can claim along the way.”
“You are not a prize. But, if you want to try leaving me, go ahead. I will track you down, wherever you go. And I’ll drag you back.”
He walked towards her, till the distance between them was a matter of mere centimeters, “Whoever lays their hands on you, I’ll break them. Don’t forget my Irish blood, darling. I may look civilized to boot, but I’m Irish. We’re very possessive over our women and you’re my woman. Don’t forget that.”
Danielle’s lips trembled, but her heart was now cocooned deep inside of her. She wasn’t going to let anybody hurt her.
“Keep your fancy words, Sean. In fact, no, why don’t you take them and stick them up your ass, next to the stick that’s lodged there.”
Her insult was so creative that had the situation not been so dire, he would have kissed the sass right out of her.
“Those are not fancy words. That is the truth. You can try it and see.” He shrugged. “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth if I have to. A man doesn’t find something so rare everyday, after all.”
She watched him, her eyes dark and heavy, a bone deep sorrow in them he wished he could erase, “Take the statue and leave, Sean. I don’t want to see your face. I don’t want to hear your voice. You make me sick. I’m done with these lies. Go.”
He took a step forward, and she picked up the glass vase in her hand and threw it, fury lit in her eyes, “Get lost, damnit!”
His jaw hardened.
She didn’t let him say anything, and now he was forced to watch her break, “You told me to trust you! I trusted you! But you don’t deserve it! None of you do! You’re like fucking vultures, just waiting for a sign of weakness to swoop down and take advantage of it! Go to hell, Sean! I’m done with this.”
The next projectile missile, nearly missed his cheek.
Her eyes shone with a broken look, a devastation in them, that sliced his heart.
He had done this.
He had put this look in her eyes.
He wanted to hold her and tell her loved her over and over again till it broke through the barriers she had put up around her heart.
But whatever he said to her right now would be thrown in his face.
His heart ached at what he had put her through, and he took a step back, “I’ll leave. For now, I’ll leave. But I’m not letting you slip through my fingers, Danielle, just because I fucked up.”
A ceramic bowl crashed near his head, making him wince.
He left, but before he did, he picked up the gun and slipped it in his pocket. As the door closed behind him, he heard her whimper, and he slid down to his knees, back against the door, holding his face in his hands.
How could he fix this?
Her broken cries tore at his heart, and he wanted to go back and hold her in his arms, kiss away her pain.
But he couldn’t do that.
But she would repudiate his touch right now.
He took out his phone, and stared at it, before taking out the number of the one person that would get through to Danielle at this moment.
And then with one heavy look at the door, he left.
Chapter Nine
He didn’t go home.
He couldn’t bear to.
He dropped the gun in his car that he had parked a few blocks off, and then put on his trench coat, and leaned against the car.
How could he have ruined this so easily?
His hands clenched in the pockets of his coat.
When he had been younger, making money had been his main focus. He had had sex, visited clubs which offered a BDSM lifestyle, had enjoyed it, but he had never sought out a relationship with a woman.
He and his mother knew what it was to not eat for two days in a row. He had built his whole empire so that they would never know the taste of poverty again. Along the way, he had built shelters for women and children.
His mother had managed them. She had thrown herself into protecting those that needed it. And she had searched for the one who had sired her. But when the cancer caught up to her, he had thrown the best doctors her way. He had tried everything, but she had just gotten worse and worse.
The anger within him at her death had festered and boiled, till he just threw himself into his work. Stealing the treasures had just been something he enjoyed. A hobby, one could say. But the growing fury in his heart, amidst the screaming pain of losing his only family, it had been a loud roaring in his ears.
Danielle’s soft touch had quieted the pain, calmed his heart. She had held his anger and hurt in those soft hands of hers, and eased them out, slowly taking their place.
He hadn’t understood that till it was too late and he had held the statue in his hands.
Sean stared across the street at the two drunk men who were stumbling along, amiably. His eyes were blind as they followed them as they turned the corner.
He needed Danielle.
With a desperation that she would never understand.
He needed her under him, bucking wildly as his hands and mouth tore at her sanity till she was just a whim to his and her needs.
He needed her needling him in that composed voice of hers, sarcasm in every word.
He wanted to see her scowl at him, and laugh at him.
He wanted her happiness, her joy.
He wanted to guard it all like a jealous, possessive lover. Her rare smiles belonged to him. Her anger belonged to him.
Even now, as he watched a grey car move past him, and he recognized the driver, he wanted to tell her to stop, and let him handle his woman.
But the woman he was hopelessly in love with, wanted nothing to do with him.
Growling under his breath, he started walking in the direction of a local bar. Tonight was a night to get drunk.
His mood was dark, his thoughts heavy.
Maybe if he was lucky enough, he could pick a fight or two.
Getting the shit beaten out of him might actually help.
Seeing the lights
in the bar, he made his way towards it.
Nearly everybody was drunk.
He asked for drink, and then sat down, glaring into this drink. Seeing a couple of men sitting next to him, eyeing him, he sneered at them.
They probably thought he was rich and would be a good mark today.
He might not be so overly muscular as they were, but he had probably been in more bar fights than any of them, so he wasn’t particularly bothered.
“Doesn’t look like your kind of place, princess.” One of them called out.
Sean bared his teeth and showed them the middle finger.
The man grew red in the face and got up.
Sean looked him over, and smirked.
The man nudged his friends and the bartender warned them, “I don’t want any trouble in my place tonight, boys. John, sit your ass down, before I shoot it.”
The burlier of them scowled at the older bartender who was fingering his shotgun, threateningly, and sat back down.
However, the three of them eyed Sean and he knew they would attempt to ambush him on his way out.
He wasn’t worried.
No. He was yearning for a good fight.
He took his time to finish his drink, and then got up.
“You best be careful,” the bartender warned him as he pocketed his tip. “The three of them are especially mean. You can leave through the back entrance.”
Sean gave him a grim smile, “They look like panda bears compared to what I’ve had come at me. But thank you for the warning.”
Eyeing him like he was crazy, the man shrugged, and moved towards the other end of the bar.
Sean rolled his shoulders, and started walking towards the entrance, pretending not to notice the three men trailing after him with ugly looks on their faces.
Come on, boyos.
Come at me, you thick headed bastards.
And sure enough, he heard them move quickly towards him as he exited the place and he whirled around and ducked, avoiding the first punch.
His grin was wild, “You throw a punch like a little girl.”
The men growled and leaped towards him, and feeling his own blood boiling at the adrenaline of a fight, Sean lost himself to the Irishman that lay inside of him, and his teeth bared in a snarl.
