by Lisa Eugene
“I need that to be clear. You are mine. Your body is mine, for my pleasure only. Do you understand, Danielle?”
His harsh tone annoyed me, made me bristle, but deciding it wasn’t worth fighting over, I rolled onto my side and replied with a gruff, “Fine!” After a minute, I couldn’t help but ask, “And what about you?”
“I’m not sleeping with anyone. You’re the only woman I’m involved with.”
I returned his quiet stare, surprised by the response. I would’ve expected a man with his looks and status to court a harem of women. The thought had always skirted the fringes of my brain, but given our “arrangement” I’d never allowed myself to fully contemplate it, told myself it didn’t matter. What we had was this, nothing more.
He took measured sips of his scotch, eyes hooded as he stared moodily. I didn’t understand this puzzling man. He seemed to eagerly look forward to our appointments, to the point where he fumed if I was even one minute late.
He trusted me with secrets that could decimate him, seemed to value my opinion and even sought my counsel, yet he never shared anything remotely personal. He wanted no more than to watch me pleasure myself, yet was unreasonably possessive. As my eyes drifted shut, I wondered if I would ever understand Chase Rutherford.
I awoke in the darkened room, disoriented. Shadows played around me, sneaking into the corners of my vision. It took a moment to realize I’d fallen asleep on the black leather couch.
“Chase?” I called out.
“I’m here, Dani.” The soft tenor came from next to me and I turned, realizing he was still seated on the recliner.
He was so still that he blended into the shadows, his large form painted in broad brushstrokes of black and gray. He watched me as he always did, his stare as tangible as a physical touch. And strangely, I felt protected. Safe. Calmer than I’d been all week.
Scoffing at my foolishness, I sat up.
“What time is it?”
“Almost ten.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You needed to rest.”
I swung my legs to the floor, sitting up. “It’s late. I have to get home.”
Chase stood, stretched his tall frame as he approached his desk, and turned on a light. I blinked hard as the brightness stung my eyes, but got to my feet. Standing in socks, I looked around for my sneakers, frowning. I couldn’t remember taking them off.
“Behind the recliner,” Chase called from across the room. He was bent over his desk, writing.
I found my sneakers and pushed in my feet, realizing he must’ve taken them off. I snorted wryly. He’d finally touched me and I’d been asleep. Figures.
Scanning the area for my purse, my gaze landed on a small coffee table off to the side. What I saw there ran a cold shiver up my back. The small pamphlet about new research at the Mayo Clinic had me frowning. I tried to shake off the uneasy feeling, chastising myself for my worry. My mind, of course, conjured the worst.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Chase had an interest in the hospital, or the research had something to do with his charities. I wanted to snatch up the pamphlet and confront him. I remembered seeing him on TV coming out of Beth Israel, running from the reporter.
Is Chase ill? Was that the reason he held himself back from having sex? Was he receiving treatment of some sort? He always looked tired, but then again, between his campaign and the problems at Flex-Steel, he was handling a great load.
Finding my purse, I turned to him, trying to vanquish the worry I could feel on my face.
None of my business. None of my business. None of my business.
Instead, I let my gaze caress the man across the room, filled my thoughts with his physical beauty. His slacks hugged his narrow hips. His white shirt was wrinkled, sleeves rolled up thick forearms. The fabric molded to the smooth curves of his muscular shoulders and his strong back. Whatever was going on with him, it certainly didn’t effect his physique. He looked athletic and fit.
He’d unbuttoned a few of the top buttons of his shirt, teasing me with a tempting view of tanned skin. Despite their fatigue, his blue eyes were bright, discerning, his lips full and softly inviting. I couldn’t help wondering how they’d taste, how they’d feel pressed against mine. He was a beautiful man, sexy even with the weariness crinkling the corners of his eyes.
He straightened from his desk and our eyes met and held for a few rapid heartbeats. Something kicked hard in my chest and I looked away, horrified, realizing I’d been staring like a devoted puppy. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.
He held out his business card and I huffed an incredulous sigh as I ambled toward him.
“Don’t you think that’s unnecessary?” I chided with a smile. “Next Tuesday. six p.m. I’ve got you penciled in.” I tapped a finger to my temple, indicating it was imbedded in my brain. It was. I’d been coming every week for more than two months now.
“You need to take it,” he answered, his expression intensely serious. “It’s important. It’s a contract between you and me. A commitment that we’ll be here.”
Surprised by the gravity of his tone, my brows slid up as I took the card. I was perplexed, a feeling that was becoming all too familiar around him. I remembered Wanda calling him eccentric, and I couldn’t agree more. Suddenly, I felt guilty I’d fallen asleep, that we hadn’t indulged in our usual sensual play. Around him, my body always simmered with arousal and anticipation.
“I’m sorry we didn’t . . .” I looked away, feeling foolish my cheeks were heating.
He took a step closer and my breath hitched at his nearness. His scent surrounded me, caressing my skin like a soft, persuasive touch. My body responded instantly, nipples growing unbearably tight. His face was very close to mine, his breath warm strokes on my cheeks, my hair, and his eyes dangerously seductive. Nervous tingles fluttered in my belly as my skin warmed by degrees.
Desire settled between my legs, hot, wet, and needy. Energy surged between us, and I looked down to see Chase curl his fists so tight his knuckles streaked white. He was trying hard not to touch me. Time seemed to stop as we just stood there, reaching out with everything except our physical form. His body swayed toward mine, muscles bunching with restraint. With an oath, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
“Christ, Dani . . . I want you so badly . . .” His needy whisper tore through me as he struggled to gather control, to battle his obvious desire. “Dani, I just wish . . .”
My brows pulled together. “Wish what?”
With a shake of his head, he sucked in a deep breath, suddenly quiet. He looked so tortured my heart ached like an old wound. God, I wanted him too. I wanted to grab him, kiss him, wrap my body around him until we were both lost in each other. Instead, I stared with confusion, trying to smother my own rampant desire.
A soft, raspy chuckle rang in my ears as he stole a comfortable step back.
And the moment was gone.
He tried to lighten the mood. “You’ll have to make it up to me at our next appointment, maybe do something adventurous. I’ll have my desk reinforced to make sure it’s sturdy.”
“Thanks for thinking of me,” I responded dryly, playing along now that I could breathe again.
“I’ll even have it checked for splinters,” he teased just as dryly, a smile tilting his lips.
“Aren’t you too kind.”
I bowed my head, hiding my own emerging smile as I tucked the card away.
“I’ll have my driver take you home,” he said, picking up the phone.
Shaking my head, I took a step toward the door. “No, I can take the subway. I’ll be home in no time.”
“Dani,” he cautioned firmly. “This is not one of those times to be disagreeable.”
“I really don’t need—”
“This is not up for discussion. It’s late, and I want to ensure that you get home safely.”
I opened my mouth to voice further protest, but the stern look he gave me told me it would be futile. Rolling my eyes, I
fumed.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” I grumbled beneath my breath.
He grinned, placing the phone to his ear.
Actually grinned.
And it was devastating. Feigning unprecedented annoyance, I groaned and forced myself to look away, forced my foolish heart to resume beating.
***
I wasn’t surprised the S class Mercedes that dropped me off in front of my building turned heads and set my neighbors’ tongues wagging. This neighborhood didn’t see many luxury vehicles. At the end of my street was the shell of an abandoned car that had been cleanly picked apart, and a few others splattered with cheerful graffiti. My ancient, second-hand Nissan was parked not far away with the For Sale sign still in the window.
Shriveling from the attention, I hunched down in the backseat and quickly hopped out when the driver came around and opened my door. I cursed under my breath when I saw Stanley sitting with a few of the tenants drinking malt liquor from a paper bag on the front stoop. Hurrying past them, I ignored the leers and jeers, knowing whatever Stanley had planned on charging me for fixing my ceiling had just doubled.
As much as Chase drove me crazy, he also had the uncanny ability to make the noise in my life recede into the background, replacing it with a blanket of inner calm. I felt renewed when I was with him, a fulfillment that surpassed the physical pleasure. Our “relationship,” or whatever this was, had evolved, grown into an unusual companionship.
I smiled as I opened my door, remembering his irreverent grin. Just the thought of it drugged me, had pleasure spreading through me like the heady effects of a sweet wine. It was often so hard to know what was going on in his head, but I was starting to get wonderful peeks through his emerging personality. Tonight he’d confessed that he wanted me, and I could see desire crystal clear in his eyes. It was only a matter of time.
I stepped into my apartment, surprised to see the lights on and my mother sitting on the couch wearing a deep frown.
“Where have you been, girl?”
I drew up short, stammering my words, then I calmly closed the door and secured each lock, remembering I wasn’t a teen sneaking into my house after curfew.
Another thought sprouted, had me turning with my eyes wide. “Is Emmy okay?” They were supposed to be at Mom’s tonight.
“Yes, Emmy’s fine. She’s sleeping.”
“What are you doing here?” I dropped my keys and purse on the table.
“Doris has a cold and was coughing all over the place. I didn’t want us to catch it.”
“Is Auntie okay?” I asked, glad to take the focus off me.
Mom’s sharp gaze followed me across the room. “She’ll be fine.” She waved casually, then pursed her lips. “What’s going on with you and Chase Rutherford?”
My feet froze. I stared dumbfounded at my mother, wondering how she could possibly know about Chase.
“I don’t . . .” I started a lame denial, but my stomach plummeted when mom held up one of his business cards with an appointment scrawled on the back.
The box where I kept Chase’s cards sat out of place on the couch. I kept it hidden in the kitchen, tucked safely into the back of a drawer. Mom must’ve somehow found it. I wondered if she’d been snooping.
“Is this where you’ve been going every Tuesday?” She asked, disbelief widening her brown eyes. Not waiting for an answer, she continued, her voice openly scolding as she waved Chase’s card in the air. “Is this the Chase Rutherford? The one they say might be our next mayor? Who’s been all over the news?”
I issued an agitated groan, walking over to seize the box of cards. Having something so personal in someone else’s hands was viscerally distressing. It was an unwelcome invasion of my privacy. My mother could sometimes hold very strong opinions, and didn’t often refrain from sharing them.
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I said, turning away.
“What the hell are you thinking, Danielle? What do you know about him? Some say he’s corrupt and dishonest! He’s a wealthy businessman, and all over the news like a damn celebrity!”
My mother sneered the title like it was a dirty word. She obviously shared my initial prejudice. Living off her meager paycheck, and struggling to get decent health care for herself and my aunt, she’d never had any love for politicians with empty promises, or our country’s wealthiest percent.
I wielded on my mother, anger piloting the words flying out of my mouth. “What, you think I’m not good enough for him?”
Immediately, I regretted my outburst. I knew I was being unfair, she hadn’t meant that at all, but I was feeling raw, foolish for the way I was starting to feel about Chase.
“Jesus Christ!” Mom cried, her lips pinched. “You know I’d never think that!”
“Mother—”
“Are you involved with him?” She scoffed, her voice shaking. Answering her own question, she continued, ignoring me. “What I mean is, a man like that will only want one thing from you, Danielle. You can’t trust him, or anything he says. You’re from two different worlds. There is no future with him. He will only use you and throw you away when he’s done. This won’t go anywhere! These relationships don’t work out!”
I turned on my mother, anger rolling through my chest like thunder. Deep down I knew where this was coming from.
“Why? Because I’m black and he’s white? Because it didn’t work out for you and my dad you think it won’t for me and Chase?”
Mom’s face burned bright as she sneered. “I know how the world is, Danielle! You can’t go through life fooling yourself and hoping for things that can never be. All you’ll ever be is his plaything.”
Her words were distressing, not because they were cutting, but for their quiet ring of truth. I knew my father’s family had never accepted her because of her race. Societal pressures had been the reason their relationship finally ended, leaving my mom alone and with a child to care for.
I wasn’t blind to ongoing prejudices. I’d experienced plenty of it even in my own marriage. Chase and I were from two different worlds, but what we had was different. There were no emotional entanglements, no expectations. I went into this with my eyes wide open.
“It’s not like that.” I heard myself reply, only to swallow the bile rising in my throat.
“I only say this because I love you and I don’t want to see you get hurt. When it comes to relationships, you don’t have the best track record. I don’t want you to make the same mistake you did with Steven.”
My stomach bottomed out. I ground my teeth to contain the deluge of bitterness swamping me. My mother was always quick to throw Steven in my face. Even though she’d had reservations about the wedding, she’d encouraged me to get married. I reminded her of this.
Mom’s eyes grew wide, her cheeks swelling. “You were pregnant! Eighteen years old! What the hell was I supposed to do?”
I made an impatient noise, my body growing still as my fight snuffed out. I’d had a wonderful evening with Chase and didn’t welcome this unavoidable reality. I was well aware of our differences, not just in our races, but the difference in our lifestyles. I honestly had no expectations. Men always left. Relationships always ended. I had no intention of going through the hell of heartbreak again.
Mom’s voice quietly reached me. “Don’t waste your time. Find someone who you can realistically build a life with, who’ll be good to Emmy. You have a daughter to think of. You’ve been through so much and I only want you to be happy.” Her eyes misted and her voice lost some of its censure.
Determined to put this conversation to rest, and flagging from the verbal punches, I stared at my mother. I’d make no progress in this argument. It only served to highlight the regrettable truth.
“I appreciate your concern, Mom, but I can handle my own life. I’m not going to talk about Chase. Good night.”
With those words, I stepped into my bedroom, firmly closing the door before my back melted against the cold wood. My shoulders sagged, and my eyes sq
ueezed shut.
Yes, I could handle my own life—and right now things were pretty shitty.
Mom’s harsh words resonated like an echo in a canyon, widening the crater in my chest. I knew there was no future with Chase. We lived in a suspended moment every Tuesday at 6:00 p.m.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
On Friday, I arrived to pick Emmy up from school. She was just finishing up her music class when I slowly pushed open the classroom door. I could already hear music floating from inside. Emmy sat at the giant piano in front of the room, her surprisingly acrobatic fingers leaping over the keys. I slowly approached, my skin prickling with goose bumps at the soft, delicate sway of the musical notes. It was a dreamy piece, torpid with emotion and lush with poignancy. Mrs. Nancy stood next to the piano. We exchanged a smile just as Emmy finished up.
I beamed and planted a kiss on Emmy’s forehead, infinitely proud of my daughter.
“That was just beautiful, Em!”
Emmy’s face remained impassive, but she slipped her small hand into mine.
“She was amazing.” The words came from behind me, and the familiar timbre had the hair all over my body standing at attention. “Mrs. Nancy hadn’t exaggerated. She’s truly gifted.”
I turned to see Chase and another man approaching from the back of the classroom and had to concentrate on pushing air in and out of my lungs.
Mrs. Nancy hustled toward me. “Mr. Rutherford was in the building and I couldn’t help bragging about Emmy. I hope you don’t mind him sitting in on her lesson.”
I shook my head, falling mute as the two men stopped in front of me. Chase was finely attired in a pin-striped blue suit, looking more handsome than any man had a right to be. He looked dignified, refined, his presence exuding power. I wore ratty blue jeans, a faded tee shirt, and battered sneakers. Thinking back on my mother’s warnings, I felt a giant chasm slide between our worlds.
“Mr. Rutherford, this is Danielle Carmichael, Emmy’s mother,” Mrs. Nancy introduced.
