Lust & Leverage

by Kaye Blue

  When that subject had proven far too exhausting, my mind had shifted to the other, the memories of him touching me, how that time together had lacked any of the awkwardness that I usually associated with sex.

  No, there had been none of the usual nerves that I felt.

  There had been nerves, of course, but those had been because of who Alex was, the situation, and not some insecurity about my body, wonder if the encounter would get back to my father, questions about why I was even bothering anyway.

  All those common fears had been gone.

  I didn’t know if that was good or not.

  I certainly didn’t enjoy feeling that way, didn’t enjoy never being able to let loose, but I also didn’t enjoy the feelings that Alex had stirred in me.

  Neediness and shame.

  Lust and anger.

  It was all too much.

  He was too much.

  That must have been the thought that pushed me to sleep, because I didn’t remember any after it. And it was the very first thing I thought when I opened my eyes, finally knowing that more sleep was not to be had.

  Too much.

  That was this entire situation. It was too much, Alex was too much, and I wasn’t equipped to deal with it.

  I heard my stomach rumble, probably because I had been so distracted last night I hadn’t had a proper dinner.

  I looked around the hotel room, figured they must have excellent room service and decided to splurge.

  I flipped through the menu, noting that it didn’t even have prices, but then deciding I didn’t care.

  Alex’s problem, and at the very least he could spring for my breakfast.

  After I ate, I felt almost human, and though I was no closer to unraveling all the emotion I found myself swept up in, at least I was feeling better.

  Good enough to shower and dress and head out for another day of sightseeing.

  I thought about leaving, had known that that wasn’t a possibility, but at least there was something I could do to distract myself. I would be here for a while, or at least I thought so, so why not enjoy it while I could?

  There was no good reason not to, so I packed up my purse and headed for the door.

  Screamed when I opened it and saw a figure standing on the other side.

  “Shit, Alex!” I said, throwing my hand over my heart.

  He lifted one corner of his mouth, his smirk lighting his green eyes.

  “You’re still not looking where you’re going,” he said.

  My heart was pounding wildly, but I ignored it, and ignored him.

  “You’re going somewhere?” he asked, looking me over from head to toe and back again.

  “Yes,” I said as Alex walked inside the room and closed the door.

  “Where?” he asked.

  “Sightseeing,” I said, my voice tight.

  He had looked at the room, but at my answer turned to look at me.

  “You’re not here to sightsee,” he said.

  The words were delivered with no emotion, which only made them hurt that much more.

  I wanted to sigh, wanted to scream, but instead I went to an old trick.

  I let my purse slide down my shoulder and fall to the floor. Then I stood, my hands hanging at my sides, waiting.

  Alex was waiting too, just looking at me without speaking.

  I did the same, looked at him without speaking, promising myself that I wouldn’t utter a single word until he did.

  The seconds ticked by, each feeling longer than the last. Still, I didn’t speak, and Alex didn’t either. I almost lost sight of what I was doing this for, but then remembered that I had my reasons. Yes, this was his game, and I was—to a degree that made me incredibly uncomfortable—at his mercy.

  But that didn’t mean I would relinquish all of my pride, at least not willingly.

  “I was expecting a snappy comeback,” he finally said.

  I wanted to cheer, but found the strength to keep my expression neutral.

  Still, I felt an amazing sense of victory, knowing that I had won this battle. It was small, meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but I had proven to him, and to myself, that I was more than a puppet who would bend to his whim.

  Or at least I hoped I was.

  “A snappy comeback wasn’t necessary,” I finally responded.

  “I agree. I hope you keep that same attitude,” he said.

  The words had definitely been designed to irritate me, but in the wake of my victory in our mini-staredown, they didn’t.

  “I’ll have someone gather your things. Let’s go,” he said.

  “Go where?” I asked.

  “You’ll have to see,” he responded as he walked back to the door.

  He was still dressed business professional this morning, his loafers gleaming, his navy slacks fit to his long and lean muscular frame.

  He didn’t wear a jacket, but the buttoned blue-and-white pinstripe shirt he wore showed off his physique, and I couldn’t deny that he was an amazing package.

  “You’re really going to do this? Just barge in and not tell me where we’re going?”

  “Yes,” he responded.

  “You didn’t even ask if I’d had breakfast,” I said.

  “That’s because I don’t care if you had breakfast. Let’s go.”

  He walked toward the door and opened it, and after pausing long enough to glare murderous daggers at his back, I picked up my purse and followed.

  “The elevator is this way,” I said when Alex turned left instead of heading right.

  He ignored me, didn’t even break his stride, and after another moment and a deep sigh I followed. Fine, let him go his way and get lost and—

  “Oh,” I said when we turned the corner and came to another elevator.

  “It’s private,” he said.

  He stepped in and I followed, looking at him skeptically.

  “Who needs a private elevator?” I asked.

  “Prying eyes, remember,” he said.

  I did, and remembered how insistent he was that I not be seen with him.

  Another indignity, but then I considered something else.

  It was clear that this little setup wasn’t something he had made just for me. He made a habit of using this elevator, bringing his conquests here out of sight of prying eyes.

  My stomach twisted at that thought, though I had no reason for it to. So what if I was just another in Alex’s long line of bed partners?

  “I didn’t see your doctor’s note,” I blurted.

  Alex’s eyes widened, but he didn’t respond.

  I didn’t say anything else, and instead we rode in silence to the basement.

  I followed him out of the elevator shaft and walked toward his car. Sleek, hundred thousand dollar minimum. Flashy.

  “Get in,” he said, walking around to the driver’s side.

  Great manners, I thought, though I didn’t dare say it out loud.

  Instead I got into the car, and then watched as Alex did the same.

  He looked good behind the wheel, but as he pulled off I noticed that he seemed rather cramped. I glanced toward the backseat, saw he had the driver’s seat pushed as far back as it could go.

  “Do you like driving this?” I asked as we exited the garage.

  He paused, then looked over at me, giving me a real smile, one that almost took my breath away.

  “I hate it. It’s too fucking cramped in here.”

  “So why did you buy it?” I asked.

  “It looks nice, creates a certain image,” he said.

  “Oh,” I responded.

  I didn’t know what else to say.

  Alex didn’t care about his image, but yet again I reminded myself that that was the Alex I had known then, not who he was now.

  “I see you’re still observant,” he said as he guided us through the city streets, his command of the vehicle impressive even though he didn’t look comfortable at all.

  “I mean it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes
to see that you don’t exactly look comfortable,” I said.

  “Perhaps, but no one else has ever mentioned it,” he said.

  I was quiet for a moment, imagining the beautiful socialite that had probably ridden in this passenger seat last. She would have looked perfect, been perfect, not at all like me. I tried to take some solace in the fact that she wouldn’t know Alex, the real Alex, like I did, but also couldn’t forget that the real Alex wouldn’t have hated her like he did me. I shrugged, deciding to keep myself from going further down that road.

  “Maybe they think they would offend you if they said something?”

  “But you’re not worried about that? Offending me,” he said.

  “If you can’t take the heat…” I said.

  Alex smirked this time, but I could see his genuine amusement. And yet again, I felt that strange closeness to him.

  I remembered this, remembered how he always seemed so serious, so weighted down by a life that was unfair, but at the same time he had such a wonderful sense of humor, the ability to laugh at himself, not take himself too seriously.

  He might not show it, but at least that wasn’t completely gone. That he had retained even that small piece of his old self made me happy.

  We were silent for the remainder of the ride, but it was a comfortable, companionable silence. There was still tension, of course, at least for me, but I was able to enjoy the sights in a way that I hadn’t been able to last night.

  So I watched, the streets abuzz with activity, so much life that it seemed impossible that one city could contain it all.

  “This is a far cry from home,” I said.

  I hadn’t meant to speak the words out loud, and when I looked over at Alex I could see that he had stiffened.

  “Your home, not mine, and that’s why I’m here.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked. I sensed that I was treading into dangerous territory, ruining those few moments of relative calm that we had found, but I was unable to resist asking the question.

  “This place is nothing like that place,” he said, putting particular emphasis on that, leaving me no doubt as to what he was talking about. “Which is why I’m here. No reminders.”

  “Was it really all bad?” I asked. My voice had dropped, and I could hear the tremor in it, the need for some confirmation that he’d had some good times, something worth remembering that was more than pain.

  Alex tightened his grip on the wheel, and then looked over at me when he stopped at a stoplight. His gaze made me feel exposed, vulnerable, and at the same time made me want to kiss him.

  “Not all of it,” he finally said.

  Then he pulled off.

  Fourteen

  Alex

  *

  The first few moments we’d spent at the hotel had been fraught, but to my surprise, we had managed to find some common ground.

  Common ground that was washed away in the space of one question.

  I knew that Mia hadn’t meant anything by the question, but that lack of malice had done nothing to alleviate my anger, nor change my reaction to it.

  Even if she hadn’t intended anything by it, she should have known that asking me about that town, wondering if there had been anything good about it was a very bad idea.

  And I should have been able to tell her no definitively, without the hedge at the end.

  It didn’t matter that it was true. Didn’t matter that as horrible as that town had been, Mia had been the one ray of light I had found, not just there but in my whole life. There was no reason for me to tell her that, no reason for me to even acknowledge it myself.

  I wouldn’t make that mistake again. And I hoped, for her sake, Mia wouldn’t tread into those waters again.

  I turned into the underground garage, and then parked in the spot that I owned, and headed for the private elevator.

  Mia followed, seeming to understand now that I wouldn’t be catering to her.

  But, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit nervous about how this would unfold. Her question about my car had been amusing.

  I cared nothing for the car, the several others that I owned. They were all designed for a specific purpose, accessories to help me get to whatever place I wanted to go next.

  I wondered why I had chosen the flashiest to pick up Mia.

  It certainly wasn’t because I was trying to impress her.

  I wasn’t, didn’t care at all what she thought. Still, it was a little surprising, and even more impressive, that she had been able to brush off the expense of the car, settle in on the issue of my discomfort. But then, that was her way. Of course, I was intrigued to see how she would respond to the penthouse.

  We rode the elevator up in silence, Mia having taken a quick look around and then settled, waiting, seeming almost serene.

  I was anything but.

  I kept my eyes straight ahead, but couldn’t help but look at her from the corner of my eye.

  She looked like herself, or at least the her I had known, her ankle-length jeans and nice tank top both exactly what I would imagine she wore on a regular basis, the perfect outfit for sightseeing.

  Unbidden, an image of Mia and me seeing the sights instantly came into my mind, but I ruthlessly pushed it away.

  I had lived here for years now, but had never taken the time to do any of the touristy stuff, and I wouldn’t start now. Maybe Mia would have time to, assuming I wasn’t monopolizing all of it, but for now I had more important things to handle.

  The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. I waited, then nodded at Mia to exit ahead of me.

  She did, and I followed, watching her as she looked left, then right, then toward the door directly across from the elevator.

  I owned this entire floor, but that wasn’t apparent from the foyer.

  I watched Mia a second longer and then unlocked the door by punching in a key code.

  Mia looked at me, one of her brows lifted in question, but she didn’t speak.

  I pushed the door open and walked in, holding it to allow her to enter.

  She did, and as she looked at the place, I tried to imagine how she would respond to it.

  The floor-to-ceiling windows brightened every corner of the large space. The view was the thing that had made it impossible for me to leave, and though I held no particular fondness for this place, or any other, I had to confess that this property had the nicest outside view.

  Mia looked at it for a moment, not letting her gaze linger before she turned to the polished concrete floor, the ultramodern kitchen.

  The entire place was laid out in an open floor plan, and at first glance it looked almost empty. That was intentional, and something I appreciated. I also appreciated the little conveniences that were throughout, the television that lowered down into a disappearing console, the stovetop that did the same, the refrigerator hidden by wood panels, as were the dishwasher and other appliances.

  “Take a look around,” I said.

  She looked at me, then nodded, and began walking through the open space.

  She ran her fingers along the Italian leather sectional, looked at the handcrafted crystal chandelier. Traced her fingers along the teak dining table that was large enough to seat sixteen.

  My gaze stuck on her fingers as I watched her caress the table almost lovingly, imagined her doing the same to me.

  I ignored that image and instead looked at her.

  She turned one final circle and stopped when she was facing me. “It’s nice,” she said.

  I frowned, but quickly wiped the expression away, making my face as blank as possible. Still, I was somewhat surprised. Really surprised, actually.

  Nice?

  A seventy-degree day was nice, a well-cooked steak was nice, this multimillion-dollar penthouse was more than nice.

  I looked at Mia, searching her expression for any sign of amusement, some hint that she was attempting to irritate me, but I saw none.

  Instead, her expression looked exactly as her words
sounded. She thought the place was nice, nothing more.

  The blow to my ego was far more intense than it should have been. In the end, I didn’t care what she thought about me, certainly didn’t care what she thought about my place, or at least that was what I told myself.

  Still, I could confess that I had hoped for some kind of reaction, more than a tossed-off “nice.”

  I shouldn’t have wanted to impress her, but some part of me did, felt compelled to show her yet again that I had made something of myself.

  When I’d show off my trinkets and toys, very expensive ones, I usually got a fawning, over-the-top reaction.

  Not from her.

  I wondered if there was anything I could do that ever would get that kind of reaction from her. Stopped myself from following that train of thought as quickly as I could.

  Her reactions weren’t something I should be concerned about, something I should allow to haunt me. Because the truth was, she was here, and therein lay my victory.

  “I’m glad you think it’s nice,” I said, forcing myself to push the words out, though they felt awkward.

  “Is this your house?” she asked.

  “What do you think?” I responded.

  Her eyes flashed, irritation at my question, probably, but she quickly recovered. Shrugged.

  “I don’t know, Alex. It’s rather…barren, but I don’t know how you like to have your space,” she said.

  The place didn’t seem barren to me. It looked like it functioned exactly as it was designed to, but I decided not to pursue that argument with Mia. Instead I said, “It’s one of the properties I own.”

  She tilted her head slightly, watched me as I approached her.

  “That’s not really an answer,” she said.

  “It’s my answer. But if you’re looking for more detail, no, I don’t stay here very often,” I said.

  Her eyes flashed again, and this time I didn’t think it was directed at my response.

  “Then what do you use it for?” she asked a moment later.

  It seemed I had been correct in my initial thoughts about her response.

  “I’ll repeat my previous question. What do you think I use it for?” I asked.

  I was close to her again, the scent of soap and Mia filling my nostrils, making me almost dizzy, but not dizzy enough to let this go.