by Melinda Minx
“Elijah?” I say, my voice trembling.
He drops his towel and begins putting on his clothes piece by piece. His back stays to me even as he tightens his belt.
“Say something,” I say frantically, tears welling up in my eyes.
He finally looks over his shoulder at me, his brows furrowed. “You wait here.”
And with that, he’s out the door. It shuts behind him, and as I realize how painfully alone I am, the tears flow like a waterfall. The sadness cuts deep into my heart and into my bones, and it tears away any trace of afterglow or happiness from last night. He even tore the fucking sheets off my body, and the air conditioning drones on and sends goosebumps across my skin.
I tear at the cuffs and cry until my throat is sore. The cuffs cut red lines across my wrists, and I finally decide he’s not holding me here. I’m not waiting for him to return only to tell me he’s done with me. He doesn’t hold the key for me anymore.
I pull myself up by the cuffs and grasp the wooden posts of the headboard. It has six or seven wooden posts running across its width, all of them topped off by another horizontal piece of wood, forming almost a cage of wood.
I study the posts and where they meet the top bar. I realize that they are two distinct pieces of wood, and I start to pull up on the top piece. I see it gives a centimeter or so as I pull, but it must be held in with wood glue. I wrap the extra slack from the chains beneath the horizontal piece of wood, and I grasp the chains together above, tightening the metal against the horizontal piece. I start to pull up with all my strength. I dig my knees into the headboard for added leverage, and I hear a crack as the glue gives way. I pull harder, and the peg starts to pop out. I pull and pull until my muscles ache, and finally the peg pops out enough so that I can slide the handcuff chains through the gap, freeing my right hand.
Now for the left.
20
Elijah
“This one,” I say, pointing.
The jeweler raises his eyebrow. “Didn’t you say you’re a teacher?”
“Professor,” I say, grinning. “And I’ve saved a lot of money. I can afford it.”
“It’s a fine diamond,” he says. “I’ll need a few hours to set it into the ring you’ve chosen.”
I think of Nicole cuffed to the bed and hungry. I’m going to marry her and be a father to our child, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give up my perversions. After I put the ring on her finger, I’ll take her to a fancy lunch, and then I’ll fuck her raw back at my place with that diamond on her finger.
Even before I knew she was pregnant, I was considering keeping her. I felt as if I was teetering on the edge of a cliff, paralyzed by indecision. Knowing that she’s carrying my child pushed me over the edge. I know what I want and need now. There’s no question.
After almost two full hours, the jeweler puts the ring into a box for me, and I get back on my rented bike and race down the road back toward the hotel.
I almost kick the door down from excitement, but when I get inside I see an empty bed, and the sheets and pillows are strewn on the floor. Both pairs of cuffs are open and on the floor near the drawer where I kept the key.
The cuffs aren’t even there. How did she free herself? I ordered her to wait, and she disobeyed me.
A few hours isn’t unreasonable, though she probably thought given everything I’d told her about our future, she probably had ruled out my decision to stay with her. I could at least have given her a glimmer of hope before walking out on her.
I put a hand on the headboard and pull at the top. I see it’s loose in two places. So she just pulled this top part up and slipped out.
I sigh. I can keep my perversions, but I may have to temper them if I’m to be a married man and a father. Toying with a woman’s emotions and making her wait for hours after she drops news of this magnitude was probably going too far.
Yes. It was definitely going too far.
I take out my phone and call her, and she—of course—does not answer. I call again, and again, and on the fourth call it goes straight to voicemail.
I leave a message and text her. I tell her only that I need to see her and apologize in person.
I get on the bike and ride to her place. When I knock on her door, her roommate greets me with a knowing grin. “She’s not here.”
“I know she told you to say that,” I say. “But—”
“Seriously,” her roommate says. “She told me that you’d work your way in to see her if I tried to lie for her, so she went somewhere else. She’s really not here, you can go inside and look if you don’t believe me.”
I glare at her. “Where did she go?”
“She didn’t even tell me,” she says.
I clench my fists. “If you hear from her, tell her I need to see her. To apologize, and more than that…”
“Nikki and I aren’t exactly close,” her roommate says. “Just leave a message on her voicemail, man. I’m not an answering machine.”
I clench my fists and storm off.
21
Nikki
I go into the cathedral at the last possible moment. I managed to hide out at my parents’ house all weekend and all through Monday. I kept my phone off—I even considered just changing my number.
But there’s not really any avoiding him. I’m not going to give up my career just because he’s an asshole. I have decided I won’t let him be my mentor after this semester. I might lose some time and delay finishing my Ph.D., but I’m not spending however many years with him in control of me to any degree.
I half expect him to be waiting for me at the big wooden doors of the cathedral. When I walk through without incident, I then expect to see him in front of the elevators. I imagine seeing him each step of the way, until I’m safely in the room with all my students around me. If he didn’t show up yet, he’s not going to show up now.
I arrive only a minute or two before class starts, so I simply get my books and papers out, clear my throat, and start teaching.
It’s difficult to teach when it feels like I’m mourning. I’m mourning the loss of many things: but in some ways the hardest thing to lose has been my fantasy. Dr. Leeds had been my fantasy for my entire adult life. Even when that fantasy was buried deep, it was always that one thing I wish I could have had. In some ways it may have been better for the fantasy to stay buried like that. I could always have thought fondly of him, and always wondered “what if.” Now that the fantasy has turned into a baby growing inside me, I realize I’ll never be able to forget the man, and the memories of him will always be painful.
Just as I focus entirely on my lecture and manage to push Dr. Leeds from my mind almost entirely—if even just for the duration of the lecture—the door swings open, and the man himself walks chest first, shoulders back into the room and toward my podium.
My students turn to see who has barged in, and I stop lecturing. I find my hands clenching the podium, my knuckles whitening as I squeeze.
What the hell is he doing here? He’s walking right up to me, as if we were the only two people in the room. This between us are over; the last thing I need now is everyone finding out we were together after it’s already over.
“Nicole,” he says. “Nikki.”
I see my students starting to understand what is happening. They look at each other with wide eyes, and some start to giggle.
“Dr. Leeds,” I hiss. “I’ll talk to you after class.”
“Listen,” he says. “I was coming right back for you, but when I came back, you were gone.”
I feel the blood rush to my head, and adrenaline surges through me. I have no idea how to deal with him right now. My students are staring on in fascination, like they are watching a car crash in slow motion. Should I scream at him for tying me up and leaving me alone? How could I say something like that in front of everyone?”
“Look,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket. “It took me so long, because I was getting this.”
He falls down onto one
knee before me, right in front of the podium, and he holds up an open box. The light hits the diamond, and it glimmers below me.
“Ms. Faria,” he says. “Marry me. That’s an order. I want to raise this kid with you.”
His words seem to suck all sound out of the room. If it was quiet before, now it’s absolutely silent. I hear my own breath rasping up through my throat. I feel my heart beating between my ears, and when I swallow—more like a confounded gulp—it sounds so loud I wonder if the students in the back row can’t hear it.
I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. He’s asking me to marry him?
I expected maybe a half-assed apology. Some waxing poetic about why he can’t be a father. But a proposal? No, not a proposal, an order to marry him?
Before I can think of how to even begin to respond, Greg stands up from somewhere in the middle of the classroom.
“Alright,” he says, “Dr. Leeds, I respect you and shit, but you’re being mad unprofessional. She’s like, your TA, and teachers aren’t supposed to date students or TAs or whatever. And look at her, she’s too afraid to even say ‘no,’ so you best—”
Dr. Leeds thrusts a finger at him. “Sit down, Greg.” His voice is deep and booming.
Greg sits down instantly, as if Dr. Leeds had physically shoved him back into his seat.
Dr. Leeds looks back up at me. “There’s no rule against marriage, Nikki. If we’re married, they can’t put disciplinary action against either of us. Only dating is prohibited.”
Jesus. He’s serious, isn’t he?
I finally find my voice, and I project it as loud and as far as I can. “Everyone out!”
The students look at each other, seeing what everyone else is doing.
“Out!” I shout.
They pop up, grabbing their things and whispering to each other in hushed tones. I hear laughter as well. They start to clear out, and after a minute or so the room is empty save for Elijah and I.
“So,” he says. “Will you obey my order?”
My phone vibrates on the podium, and I see a text message from my mom. “Nikki, you’re getting MARRIED?!?!?! You don’t even have a boyfriend!”
I look down at Dr. Leeds. “You told my mom we’re getting married?”
“The wedding is tomorrow,” he says. “I invited everyone.”
22
Happily Ever After
I never thought Katherine would grow up so fast.
“Mommy,” she says, tugging at my arm, “Come on, let’s go! I’ll be late! I can’t be late!”
I check my watch and see that we’re at least fifteen minutes early. “We won’t be late, sweetie.”
It’s her first day of Kindergarten, and Elijah and I are walking her to school.
“Dad! We’re going to be late!” she says to him, as if I was just ignoring her all along.
“We’re early, Cat,” he says.
That reassures her. She nods, then tugs on my arm. “We’re early, Mom.”
“Oh, really?” I ask, rolling my eyes at Elijah.
He smirks back at me and takes my hand.
A crossing guard gestures for us to keep going, and we cross the street while she blocks traffic. There’s dozens of other kids walking to school, the older ones are mostly going by themselves, while the other kids Katherine’s age all have parents with them as well.
We smile and wave at some of the other families, most of them are people we recognize from around the neighborhood.
“Big day,” one of them says to us.
“You have no idea,” Elijah says, squeezing my hand even tighter.
When we’re out of earshot of him, I whisper to Elijah. “What did that mean?”
“You know,” he says, “With Katherine in school, we finally will have some alone time again.”
He gives me a look that tells me exactly what he means, and my heart pounds.
Katherine didn’t kill our sex life. Far from it. The occasional babysitter and hotel combo managed to keep the flames of our more complicated tastes fueled, while Katherine finally sleeping through the night allowed for some more back-to-basics sex.
Not that Katherine hasn’t been the biggest joy of our life. Watching her grow and raising her together has strengthened our relationship in ways I never could have imagined. I’ve seen sides of Elijah that I never even thought would exist. Seeing him shirtless, holding Kathrine in his arms as a newborn, and singing softly to her in his deep voice was one of the happiest moments of my life.
Still, having a daughter was meant we’re busy. Elijah and I are both professors at Pitt, and even though our schedules are very flexible, Katherina has tended to use up most of that flexibility. Katherine being at school for big chunks of time might finally allow for some less than basic sex at home.
We hadn’t exactly talked about how Kathering going to school would affect our sex life, as I’d mostly been excited to see my baby so grown up, but it seems as if Elijah has been planning something.
“I hope we can do coloring,” Katherine says, “And drawing.”
“I hope you do lots of reading,” Elijah says.
“We always read at home!” she says. “I think we’ve read all the books! All of them!”
“I’m sure there will be more books you haven’t seen at school, sweetie,” I say.
“I wanna color anyway!” she says.
We get to the school, and a lot of parents are taking pictures of their kids with their little backpacks on the lawn in front of the main entrance.
“I guess that’s us,” Elijah says, pulling out his phone.
“Yeah!” Katherine shouts. “Picture! I’m gonna make a funny face!”
I lean in toward Elijah. “Get at least a few of her between funny faces.”
He nods, “I know.”
Katherine gets in front of the sign for the school and the entrance, and Elijah holds up his phone. He snaps dozens of photos, and I’m elated to see that he gets some great ones of Katherine giggling between shots of her tugging at her cheeks, sticking her tongue out, and making weird hand gestures on top of her head.
He flips to one of the best ones, zooms in on her smile, and gives me a thumbs up. “Great faces, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” she says in a high-pitched, almost too-sweet voice.
We ask someone to hold the camera for us, and we get a picture of us all together. One of Katherine standing between us, another of her hoisted up into Elijah’s arms.
“You’ll be too big to hold soon,” he says.
“You’re strong Daddy, you can always hold me.”
I laugh, and I feel a tear streak down my cheek.
“Don’t be sad, Mommy,” she says. “You aren’t strong enough to hold me, but I still love you.”
We both laugh, and soon some teachers come out and show the new Kindergarteners—including Katherine—the way into their classrooms.
We’re left standing outside with the other parents. All of us seem like we’re in shock. The kids are really in school, and we’re really…alone? Free? Maybe a bit of both?
“Come on,” Elijah says, “This way.”
We walk back toward our house, but soon he takes a seemingly random turn.
“Where are we going, Elijah?” I ask.
“Who’s Elijah?” he says, a dark twinkle in his eye.
He pulls me around the next corner, and as we clear a wall covered with vines, a black limousine is parked alongside the road.
“You’re…” I stammer.
“Braddock Lee,” he says, “Billionaire playboy, and you’re…”
I lick my lips, letting my mind wander onto the first thing that comes to me. “I’m Kelsie Sanders, a reporter who is out to get you. I’m writing a hit piece on you, but I’m undercover as your secretary. We’ve been fucking each other for weeks, but you don’t know what I really am after…”
“Shh,” he says, putting a finger to my lips. “I don’t have any meetings today until three, Kelsie, let’s not waste an
other moment.”
He opens the door to the limo, and I slide into the backseat, my heart pounding just as hard as the first day that we met.
Also by Melinda Minx
Single Dad’s Bride
I have one month to find a bride or I lose my daughter.
They say a tattoo artist with a dirty mouth can’t be a kickass father.
Bullsh*t. But my lawyer says I need a wholesome bride to convince the judge.
I know just the perfect girl—hell—I think she might even be a virgin.
Only problem? She’s my sister’s best friend, and she hates my guts.
Buy on Amazon or read free on Kindle Unlimited!
Also by Melinda Minx
Dr. Billionaire’s Virgin
Life isn’t a fairytale, and filthy rich, ruggedly handsome doctors don’t kiss their patients.
And those kisses don’t cure 7-year comas.
But I guess if the doctor is sexy as hell and a billionaire, the rules don’t apply.
Dr. Kaden Prince is everything I could want, but I’m awake now. It’s time to stop dreaming.
Dreaming that he won’t just kiss me and cure my coma—that he’ll cure my terminal virginity too.
Buy on Amazon or read free on Kindle Unlimited!
About the Author
Melinda Minx lives in Pittsburgh with her loyal Corgi. She writes late into the night with a hot cup of Earl Grey. Like her page on Facebook and join her mailing list to stay up to date on new releases, extended epilogues, and free promotions.
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