“Architect,” I corrected, drawing hard circles on a Post-it. “And I can’t bring him.”
“Why the fuck is it not like that with him? Shit. Change your world, or better yet, let him change it for you. Four days in New York, you can have hot monkey sex anytime you’re not needed. Win-win, honey.”
“It’s complicated.” I stalled, trying to think of a way out of this, but I couldn’t. I had negotiated that clause in my contract. “I’ll talk to Annie.”
A long sigh on Leigh’s side preceded my sentencing. “Gotta make it happen, sweetie.”
No way out. I glanced at Chris and Kyle, who both lifted their heads at the same time. “I have to go, Leigh. I’m late. I’ll call you tonight. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t, sweetheart. And look, I know—”
“No. You don’t. It’s okay. You’re right, and I’m sorry. It’s your job to keep me in line. I get it. I agreed to this when you took me under your wing.”
“Sorry, hon. And I love having you under my wing—I only work with the best.”
“Thanks, Leigh.” I hung up the phone and walked back to my bedroom with my boys at my heels. Crawling up on my bed, I laid down in the center with Chris and Kyle on either side of me and stared up at the ceiling. I closed my eyes for just a second, trying get myself under control when I drifted off.
“You!” Mom screamed at him. “They work out three times a day, but it’s never enough for you, is it? Saturdays! They had to run on Saturdays too. In those damn backwoods. If it wasn’t for you—if it wasn’t for those runs, this would never have happened! That . . . that thing wouldn’t have been out there, waiting for my baby!”
“Mom,” I mumbled through cracked lips, trying to get her attention. But my throat was so swollen, nothing out of my mouth was understandable.
“Do you know what he did to her? What he did to my daughter, my little girl?” Her voice rang throughout my room, down the hallway, bringing in the nurses and my dad.
“Vi,” my coach pleaded. “I never intended—I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry? You’re fucking sorry? Tell that to her. Tell that to the grandchildren I’ll never have because of that monster! If not for that amazing man, that blessed officer and his team, she’d have bled out. Keep your sorry, Ed. Get the hell out of here.”
“Mom!” I grumbled. “Not . . . his. Not his—fault.” Their blurred forms stood at the foot of my bed.
My dad grabbed my mom by the shoulders and hugged her to him. “Enough, Vi. Enough! You’re upsetting Valentina. Ed, we don’t blame you. But it’s a good idea if you leave right now. Come back when she’s stronger.”
“Coach . . . ” They couldn’t make out anything I said. It wasn’t his fault. It had just happened, and I’d been weak.
I jolted up on a gasp when Kyle started barking. I shook my head to clear it never feeling so helpless in my entire life as an adult. Weak . . .
Never again. I’d never be weak again. I jumped off the bed, and marched down my hallway to grab my gym bag.
Poor Ed. It hadn’t been his fault, of course. He trained champions—Olympic champions—and champions train 24/7. Nobody could have known who would be out there that day, and it could have been any of us girls. I was glad it wasn’t my friends.
Unwelcomed, my mom’s mantra played on rewind through my mind: don’t put yourself in a position to be a victim again, to be exposed—and being up on a stage at conference, not knowing who was out there in the audience was exposure. Predators were an epidemic. They were out there . . . always watching, always waiting. I believed that to my very soul. I knew mine was dead, but what about the others out there? What about the victims who couldn’t defend themselves? I could. With my parts of my past coming back to me now though, reliving it as if it had recently happened, I knew I was borderline paranoid, in which case, mom’s hyper-vigilance didn’t help. But I couldn’t let this fear own me forever.
“Fuck you, prick.” I hissed into an empty room. “You don’t win this time. New York it is. By my goddamn self.”
I hiked my gym bag over my head, grabbed my keys, and rushed out the front door. A resounding boom rang out across the early morning sky as my front door slammed behind me. I’d never been so determined to do something so far out of my comfort zone before and yet, I dreaded the thought of it with every ounce of self-preservation I possessed.
20
Jaxxon
Where the hell was she? Late was not Valentina’s style. I’d never gotten here before her. She only lived ten minutes away—less, even—and she’d texted she was on her way over thirty minutes ago.
Before I went caveman and actually called to make sure she was all right, I caught the swing of her long hair as she trudged through the front of the weight room like some kind of drill sergeant. She dropped her bag on the bench without looking up. That stung a bit—she always looked for me in her awkward, subtle way. But not today.
I staked more plates on the leg press and watched her through the mirrors.
She flung shit left and right, looking for God only knew what. Miss OCD, who had a place for every damn thing, slinging shit around and mumbling to herself? That couldn’t be good.
She stood up to twist and yank her hair back in a sexy, messy half-bun, yet kept her eyes on the ground. Something was definitely up. And I didn’t do flight—she’d tell me what the hell was goin’ on one way or another, because that mindset was an injury waiting to happen.
Her demeanor may have had nothing to do with me, because she’d been amazing all week, but on the off chance it did, I needed to know what was up. We’d crossed a boundary the night of her work party. One I wasn’t one hundred percent sure she was cool with and if that was the case, she needed to own it. My problem—I’d had a taste of her. Jesus Christ, for the past week I’d get a flash of her coming for me and fuck me . . . if it wasn’t the most sensual, gorgeous sight I’d ever seen. I wanted her moans as my fucking ringtone. Locked up tight under all that armor was a loving, sexual woman dying to be unleashed. Since I damn well planned to be the one to let her loose, I had to know where her head was at.
I whistled loud, turning most of the heads in the gym.
Valentina immediately looked up and turned to me with a grimace.
I raised a hand and motioned her over to me with a finger.
She narrowed her eyes and marched over. Fucking marched!
“What’s up, baby. Everything all right?” I put two more forty-five pound plates on top of the leg press.
“No.” She bit out, then looked at the rack. “Twenty-eight plates?”
“What? You see me do this all the time.”
“And it makes me nervous every time you do it. That’s over twelve hundred pounds.”
Dodge. Nice try, though. “So . . . what happened?”
She shrugged and fiddled with her wrist straps. “I was rearranging the office and lost track of time.”
“Stop messing with your office, babe. I have the kids this weekend and I’ll start next Monday. You said you wanted to get everything tomorrow, right? You won’t have room to do shit once I get it all in there. Don’t waste your time.”
Ignoring me, she jerked the straps over her hands, looked between them, huffed, and ripped them off again, leaving red scratch marks on her porcelain skin. “Damn things! Three fucking advanced degrees and I can’t figure out how to thread a shitty strap.”
Wow. Fucking and shitty. Oh yeah, not a good day.
I took her wrists in mine to pull off the straps and she jerked away, locking her fingers around the material so I couldn’t remove them.
“What’s wrong, hon?”
“Nothing, other than I’m late.” Her hands trembled and she kept her eyes on the floor.
I held onto the straps, keeping her with me. “Not buyin’ it. Try again.”
She looked up at me with steel behind those gorgeous green eyes that dominated my fucking fantasies. Granted, in the fantasies they were usually gazing up
at me while she was on her knees with my cock in her mouth, but a saint I was not. Something inside me wanted to push her past the tough, put-together exterior she clung to. Maybe because now, I’d experienced the sensual woman hiding underneath . . . all in good time. Right now, she was lying to me. “What happened?”
“Jaxx, you question me all the damn time! I’m late. I’m grouchy because I’m late,” she snapped, glancing back down at her hands.
I gently pulled her closer to me and her eyes darted around the gym to see if anyone was looking at us.
I didn’t give a fuck—let ‘em look. “If I didn’t give a shit, I wouldn’t ask. If it’s a bad day, say it. I’ll leave it, but don’t lie to me. What’s wrong?”
She yanked on her wrists so hard I let them go afraid I’d hurt her. “I—it’s not a good day.” She spun around, head shaking back and forth, intending to walk away.
I leaned against the rack and dropped my voice. “Hey, stop for a second.”
Her head dropped and she whirled back around, hands on her hips. “What now?”
Oh, fuck no. “Get over here, Sparky.” Goddamned feisty woman, but she was not lifting with that attitude. She didn’t have to tell me what’s up, but she did need to calm the hell down.
“What? Speak?!” She stood there, glaring up at me. When she was vulnerable, there was something heartbreaking about it to me, so I usually loved when she got riled, but right now, something deeper was going on. Valentina wasn’t moody or argumentative. There wasn’t a bitchy bone in her smokin’ hot body. She wasn’t one of those women who started fights just to start them. I knew her well enough by now to at least know that.
“If you don’t get over here, I’ll throw your fine ass over my shoulder and walk out of the gym until you calm the fuck down. You’re gonna pull something with the mindset you got goin’. Decide.” I didn’t move, but she sure as shit did. So she clearly knew not to call my bluff.
When she stood about two feet from me, I reached out to her. After a few seconds of staring at me, she put her hand in mine and I led her closer. “You’re not the arguing type, babe, so you’re doin’ distance.” I dropped my voice so only she could hear. “Is there something else going on I’m not aware of, or did I fuck up last Saturday? You can tell me. I can take it.”
A small frown marred her lips as her free hand flew to the top of her chest. She moved a step closer to me. Her eyes met mine, and all the angst bled right out of her. In its place was a worried look I hated to see. She was a people-pleaser at heart, to everyone except herself. “It’s not you, Jaxx. I’m sorry. It’s not you or last Saturday at all.”
“Don’t apologize. I can handle grumpy, but you feel like letting me in on what the hell happened between your text and you walking in here like a goddamned special ops soldier, all direct action and shit?” I ran soft circles over the pulse in her wrist with my thumb.
A small grin tugged at her mouth. “Work call right after I texted you.”
“And?”
She let out a long breath. “And . . . they want me to fly to New York for our annual conference. They green lighted the line I pitched at the party, but they want me to present it.”
It was then I noticed the hand on her chest shaking. This was good news, but fuck all if she wasn’t Casper-the-motherfucking-Ghost white, and strung tight as a goddamn top. “Jesus, that was fast. Congratulations. So what’s the problem?” Because I was fuckin’ lost.
Her eyes opened wide and her voice came out at least an octave higher than normal. “I have to fly to New York in June. Alexis, Annie’s daughter, my goddaughter, is turning sixteen, so Annie can’t go. Annie always goes. I can’t take Chris and Kyle. I can’t—I don’t . . . fly well.”
Lots of people didn’t fly well, but they also didn’t have physical reactions to it. Her hand shook in mine, and I finally caught the fuck on. Fear—she was scared. But this was work-related. Something she’d worked hard to make happen.
“I’m sure Annie and Alexis will understand. She can take video or Facetime you. Something this big work-wise trumps birthdays. I don’t know Annie, but I’d think she’d agree. Or is it something else?”
She glanced up at me, and a hint of pink stained her cheeks. “You don’t get it. I haven’t missed anything for those kids since they’ve been born.”
“Babe, I do get it. I’ve got kids, remember, but this is fuckin’ career changing. Annie will understand. Trust me on this one. I’m sure Alexis loves you and all, but teenagers ..? Friends come before family in the party department. Get her a bitchin’ gift, she’ll be solid.”
“Again, that’s not the point. I know Annie will make me go.”
Make me? The fuck . . .
“Then what’s the point?”
She shook her head hard and backed up a step. “You saw me on Saturday. And that was here, with coworkers I mostly know. Multiply that times a hundred and put me in front of a sea full of people—strangers. I don’t do public forums. I don’t know who’s watch—I—”
“Have you had to speak in front of an audience for work before?” She must be afraid of public speaking. But this had to be the worst fuckin’ case I’d ever seen . . . she was breaking my heart here. Shit.
“I have, but on a much smaller scale. Nothing of this magnitude. Not something where I don’t know who’s— Not this big.”
I studied her face, and with my thumb on her pulse, noticed it had double-timed. “Is it a fear of crowds? Public speaking?”
“You could say that.” Her eyes darted everywhere but at me.
“I did say that. What would you say?”
“Jaxx . . . ” She took another step back, but kept a tight grip on my hand. She seemed to think about what to say, which pissed me off, but if I wanted her to be comfortable with me, I had to give her space.
Finally, she met my eyes. “You said if it I didn’t want to talk about something, you’d respect it as long as I didn’t lie to you. No, I don’t like to fly, but most people I know don’t either—it’s not that. It’s more a fear of crowds’ . . . thing. That’s the truth, but I can’t go into it.”
“Fair enough.” I pulled her closer again and let go of her hand to pull off her wrist straps. “I understand, but you still have almost five months. Let it go for now.” I switched the straps. “You had them on the opposite wrists. Focus in here, hon, because I have to bail out after this. I don’t need you hyperextending shit when I’m not here to play superhero.” I began lacing the straps over her wrist.
“I know. That’s all I need, right?” A sad smile graced her mouth.
I squeezed her hand before letting go and sitting down on the stool to wrap my knees. I held the wraps out to her. “You all right now?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She took the bands.
I pulled out my phone and cued up the music. “Switch.” I handed her the phone and began wrapping one knee. “Concentrate, babe. I’m serious.” I glanced up at her and the expression on her face . . . I bit back the laugh.
She stared down at my phone, mouth agape, and flipped the screen toward me. Her head swiveled back and forth between the phone, the leg press and at last on me. “Taylor Swift? Taylor Swift! When you’re about to put up over 1200 pounds?! This is not your lifting music.”
I took the phone from her and stood up. “Don’t hate on Swifty.”
“Swifty?!” Her head jerked back and a ridiculous smile slashed across her face. “Oh. My. God. We need to have a serious conversation about your workout music,” she scoffed.
“Don’t hate. Jessa knows her shit. Now go away and let me get goin’ here. You’ve already made me late.” I winked at her.
She dropped her head back to look up at the ceiling, grunted, and turned to walk back to her station. “You’re a total nut-job. Get some real music,” she threw over her shoulder.
“I heard that,” I said, as I got settled under the leg press.
“Good!” She pivoted back to me and nodded at the press. “Be careful, Superman. Yo
u get in trouble with that load, and I don’t think little Miss Swift has the power to help you out.”
“Ah, love you too, sweetness. Thanks for caring. Call you tonight?”
“Dinner with my parents. Call me after eight.” She spun back around, waved a hand over her head, and chuckled back to her bench.
At least she’d got her head straight and was ready to get down to business. Job done.
21
Valentina
For once, dear God, let me get through a meal without my mother all over me about something.
Dinners with Mom and Dad were always an emotional rollercoaster. Mom, bless her heart, grated on my nerves at times like no other, and Dad was just . . . awesome. Mom hadn’t taken my news about the New York trip well, which I was sure would get top billing tonight.
My parents led the brigade of my security circle, and that created a strange paradox for me. I could be nervous and have my issues about my life and what I dealt with, but mom couldn’t. Unfair of me? No question, but it was the sad truth. Hopefully, Dad wasn’t too far off. He was the only one capable of reining in the ever-protective Violet Durare.
I found the soft bubbling of the chicken and potatoes in the oven oddly soothing. I washed the vegetables for salad, and sautéed asparagus I’d bought before arriving. Mom was a diabetic with a wicked sweet tooth, so I tried to make her eat clean when I visited.
The hair on my nape raised and a chill ran down my spine—so much for soothing. Although I’d become hyper aware about being watched, when it came to Mom, she did it like a sniper zeroed in.
“Just say it.” I separated the lettuce and cleaned the leaves without turning to her. Mom was much easier to deal with when I wasn’t looking at her. That way I wasn’t the insensitive daughter when she got nostalgic, which she pretty much always did.
“Valentina Antoinette Durare, honestly.”
Anytime the full name came out—bad deal. The clank of silverware on the glass table rattled through my skull.
Phoenix (Flames & Ashes Book 1) Page 17
