The Essence of Fate

by Alison E. Steuart

  “Charlotte. I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stir this up for you,” Jackson says with heartwarming sincerity.

  “Thank you, Jackson. It’s okay. Sadly, the story only gets worse. You see…my father wasn’t alone.” Jackson raises a brow at that twist in the story but doesn’t say anything. “There was another woman with him, obviously his girlfriend. She didn’t survive the crash, either.” My head is starting to hurt as I relive the most screwed-up thing I’ve ever had to deal with in my life. Losing my father that I loved so dearly and finding out a truth that tore apart everything I had ever believed him to be, all at the same time. It was unbearable, and I’m still not sure I’ve ever come to terms with it.

  “Good Lord. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like. I’m so sorry. Please…you don’t have to go on. I’m sorry, Charlotte.”

  I get up and walk over to the window so I don’t have to see that look on Jackson’s face anymore, because it’s about to make me bawl my eyes out, and finish the tragic tale that was my family. “As you probably can imagine, my mother was devastated in a way that words cannot describe. She never recovered. Two years later she finally succumbed to the addiction that she latched onto trying to dull the pain.” I stay facing the window so I don’t have to see the sympathy in his eyes. It will make me break and I’ve worked hard to not break anymore. Thankfully, he gives me the time that I need to regain my composure. When I turn back to him, I can’t help but apologize for unloading so much on him. “I’m sorry, Jackson. That was a lot to take in.”

  Jackson stands and walks over to me. “Charlotte, stop. Do not apologize to me. You don’t need to. I am honored to know that you trusted me enough to tell me what happened to your parents. I know that wasn’t easy. But I’m glad you did. I understand now why Ian overwhelms you the way he does. It makes sense. Yet, I can’t help but offer you some advice.” His voice sounds so fatherly right now, the lump in my throat is starting to swell again.

  “Uh-oh! Am I in trouble?” I ask with humor, trying once again to divert myself from crying.

  His laugh echoes around the room. “No…no. You’re not in trouble. However, you may not want to hear what I’ve got to say.” He raises one brow and tips his head. “Ian isn’t your father. Furthermore, it isn’t wise to go through life making other people pay for someone else’s mistakes. Not only is it unfair to them, but it is especially unfair to you.” His features soften as he finishes, “You may think you are protecting yourself from a similar fate, but in reality, you are creating unnecessary obstacles that get in the way of living your life to its fullest potential. Your parents wouldn’t want you to do that, Charlotte.”

  Smiling up at him as I wipe away the one tear I let escape, I tell him, “I think I might ask Ian if I can borrow you as my best friend for a while. Do you think he’d be okay with that?” We both laugh at my silliness. “Keep it a secret. My other best friend, Erika, would be devastated to hear me say that!”

  “You don’t need to borrow my friendship. It is yours from now on, no questions asked.” He reaches over to give me a much-needed hug. “You are a very special young lady, Charlotte LeFay. I can see why Ian is so drawn to you.” He lets go and pauses, those green eyes so caring and wise. “You may not want to hear this, either, and I completely understand, but believe me when I tell you…you and Ian McAlistair were made for each other.”

  Eight

  Ian

  Driving up I-95 at 110mph is a bad idea. And I don’t give a fuck. I have to burn off this energy, this…anger, this…I don’t fucking know what! “Dammit!” I hit the steering wheel on another outburst.

  I wish someone could explain to me what the hell just happened back there. Even though Charlotte initially tried to act like I was some random person with that goddamn Mr. McAlistair bullshit, she seemed to be coming around after I gave her my peace offering. One I know she wasn’t expecting and one that sure as hell had more meaning than a fucking bouquet of flowers.

  I should have known it was going to blow up in my face as soon as I walked up and saw her gorgeous body tucked into that dress that was made for her, the curve of her ass so enticing, it made my hands clench. Or maybe it was because she was hugging my asshole best friend that she apparently has a crush on.

  “Fuck!”

  Seeing her in another man’s arms, even a man I know and trust with my life, tightens my body from the inside out, making me want to destroy something. That may have been a better option than flying up the highway where I’m likely going to get arrested or killed.

  Letting a trace of what’s left of my sanity rectify the fried circuits of my brain, I take the next exit, only to realize I’m already past Fort Lauderdale, even though I swear I just got on the damn highway.

  I’m fucking losing it! Driving like a maniac, wanting to destroy anything that gets in my way, I’m ready to beat the shit out of Jackson for the first time in thirty goddamn years. She did cast a spell on me, an evil one! She’s a bloody witch, not a goddamn faerie.

  That frustrating thought brings an image of Charlotte’s portrait and the beautiful look on her face when I gave it to her. I didn’t really want to part with it. I’d become somewhat attached to that image. But something in my gut told me I needed to give it to her, that she would know I wasn’t the asshole she felt compelled to slap in the face last Saturday. That I thought of her as more than some roadside hookup I could command at will. It seemed like a good decision. She was obviously happy about it, emotional even. When her eyes welled up with tears, my first instinct was to take her in my arms and cover her mouth with mine, feel her relax, submit…just like she did the first time we met. Then she would know that her pleasure is my utmost priority… That in my arms, she is safe to let go, to give in to her carnal instincts, and know the true meaning of ecstasy. “Jesus Christ, I want her so badly!” I exclaim, hitting the steering wheel for the tenth time.

  Regardless of how much she appreciated the gift, she shut me out, anyway. Completely. I don’t know what happened, but I swear she was about to pass out. It scared the hell out of me and all I wanted to do was protect her, take her somewhere safe where I knew she would be okay. Instead, she wouldn’t even look at me, wouldn’t let me touch her…asked for Jackson to come in and save her…from me.

  “Does she fucking hate me?” I yell again, confused by every move she makes. I should never have let her goad me last Friday. I should have kept driving and never put the damn car in reverse. She weakened my resolve and I snapped, evidently making such a monumental fuck-up, I may never have a chance to make it up to her. I cannot let that happen.

  If I could only get her to let down the walls she’s built—to keep me the hell out—I could make up for the mistakes I’ve made, or anybody else has made, for that matter. I could take away any of life’s pain and disappointment, and she could just…be. Unencumbered by obligations, expectations, or insecurities and bring forth her true self, her true power. Exactly how I imagined and put down on paper. Charlotte—raw, pure, and naturally magnificent.

  A horn blasts from the car behind me, snapping me out of my daydream. God, this sucks. I can’t fucking stand what’s happening to me. She has me on edge, out of control, and it’s so unfamiliar to me I’m at a loss as to what to do. I am never at a loss…ever.

  Continuing through the intersection, I’m on A1A not far from the office, but far enough to give me time to cool down and get my head screwed back on straight. Maybe by the time I get there, Jackson will have finished his private meeting with Charlotte and he can tell me what the fuck is going on.

  Finally back at my desk, I’m faced with a mountain of work that needs to be completed today. Apparently, I’ll be working late, since I spent half the day with my head up my ass. I start prioritizing, creating a pile that I can delegate to my assistants, when Jackson knocks before entering. A familiar tension forms in my gut as I picture Charlotte in his arms. Even knowing he would never cheat on Becca and he would never screw me over, the agitation is
still there.

  He grabs a water then sits across from me, pretending to be at ease. I see through it; I can tell something is definitely bothering him. Either way, I have zero patience for beating around the bush. I need to know what the hell is going on, now. “Spit it out, Jackson. I don’t know how to read this bullshit, and I sure as fuck have no interest in playing games. Why did she need you to get rid of me so she could talk privately when, as far as I know, she barely fucking knows you?” Not wanting to speculate further, I let him answer.

  “Yeah, I wasn’t really sure about that myself when you came and got me. I know how much that had to bother you, and I’m sorry.” He’s sincere, but that was weak.

  I can’t even bring myself to laugh. I just look him dead in the eye and sternly respond with, “Bothered isn’t even in the same universe as what I felt.” I raise an eyebrow and tip my head communicating a clear, don’t fucking downplay this.

  “Yeah…I get it, man. I really do.” Shaking his head, he rubs the back of his neck. “This is not going to be easy. You really stepped outside the box when you decided to pursue Charlotte. You’re going to have to work at it, no doubt, but when that work finally pays off, I guarantee it will be worth it.” He seems pretty satisfied with that encrypted code bullshit. I’m not.

  “Jackson? What the hell is that supposed to mean? How am I supposed to interpret that vague nonsense? Tell me what the hell is going on, dammit!” It’s a good thing I went for that drive to cool down. As pissed off as I am right now, I would have exploded an hour and a half ago if he fed me that simple bullshit.

  He stands up and paces around my office, raising his voice when he says, “Cut me some slack here, Ian! I’m stuck between a rock and a goddamn hard place. I’ve got you on one side, and you know I’ve got your back, then I’ve got her on the other, and for whatever reason, she trusts me, so I can’t betray that trust. It kinda sucks, man. I’m never involved in your life like this!”

  “She trusts you because she’s got good instincts. Which is one other thing I can pile onto the stack of reasons I find her so damn attractive.” Sitting back in my chair, I rub my hands over my face. “Can you just give me enough information so I can at least work on a strategy that has a better chance at success than what I’ve done so far? I can’t do this fucking guessing game, and I’m about to kidnap her and take her to my place in the Bahamas where she doesn’t have a goddamn choice but to be with me twenty-four seven.” An idea that seriously has a tremendous amount of appeal.

  Jackson laughs at my sarcasm, probably concerned I might actually do it. Coming back to my desk, he sits down and says, “Listen, Ian. She’s a really smart, driven, and successful woman, as I’m sure you know. She’s a good person, I know that for sure. But she’s had to deal with some things that would cause any normal person to put up walls as protection. Charlotte has built a fortress, and it won’t be easy to get through. If you think she’s worth it, be prepared to put in the time and effort it’s gonna take to prove to her you’re worth it. You’ll need to be patient with her, man.”

  At least that was something I can chew on; however, I’m concerned about this event that has caused her to be so insecure. I can’t help but ask, “Has she been abused somehow?” The idea of someone physically hurting her makes me sick. If that’s the case, when I find out who it is, it will be easy to make them pay.

  “No, it’s nothing like that, thankfully.” The look in his eyes validates his next request— “Please don’t try to get me to tell you, Ian. You know I would if I could, but it’s not my place.” He hates being in this position, and I have no choice but to respect him.

  “All right, man. I won’t, and I respect where you’re coming from. Can you at least answer a few other questions that don’t pertain to that? Like…is she attracted to me?” I feel like a fucking girl even asking that question. There has never been a time that females were not attracted to me, and considering Charlotte’s reaction to my touch, I would be shocked to find out she is not.

  “That’s a first! You having to ask, I mean.” Jackson laughs at my question—I guess that’s a good sign. “I think you can rest easy on that front. Her finding you attractive is honestly part of the problem.”

  Ah, another clue. I’ll tuck that piece away for later. “Did she like the drawing I did of her?” I nervously rub my hands together under my desk. Fucking twat that I am.

  “She loved the drawing, very much. I think it was an excellent choice, since you opted not to go the traditional route. Very well done, Ian. Personally, I was happy to see you’d picked up your pencils again. I think you should continue. It’s an outlet you’ve neglected to use for far too long. It’s wasted talent, my friend.”

  Here he goes again. Guess I set myself up for that one.

  “Yeah, we’ll see.” Brushing past that so he doesn’t start badgering me, I continue. “I want to know what she said about it.” The insecure artist in me comes out, but I don’t care. I need to hear what she thought, what it meant to her.

  He gives a knowing look at my deflection, but answers anyway, “Let’s see, I think it was something like, ‘On top of his many other talents and otherworldly abilities, he’s a gifted artist that should be world famous for his unique skills.’”

  God, that makes me happy, for several reasons. Now I want to draw more for her. Just to see her reaction, to make her see she doesn’t need to be afraid of me, and perhaps to make her smile.

  Jackson chimes in, “From the look on your face, it appears you’ve finally found your muse.” I can tell he’s pleased. He’s been at me for years about getting back into my art. And here I am, ready to fill a gallery with images of Charlotte. What an unbelievable turn-on. Christ, this woman has taken over every part of me!

  “My muse. Is that another word for obsession? Because I’m starting to think I’m fucking obsessed with her.” Getting up from my desk, I walk over to the window, staring out over the city. I think about how to word the thoughts shuffling through my head without sounding like some love-struck teenage girl. “She’s been in my head since last Friday. Shifting back and forth through different scenarios. Of course, a lot of them are mind-numbing visuals of what I plan to do to her sexually, but a lot of them aren’t. A lot of them are your everyday, mundane shit like enjoying dinner together, hanging out on the boat, maybe fishing or diving, chilling on the balcony watching the sunrise.” I look at Jackson, whose expression is like…yeah, and? “I’m sure that would sound totally normal to most people. But, it’s not for me. No one has piqued my interests beyond something physical, ever.” Holding up my hand as if to stop Jackson from commenting even though he’s just attentively listening to me babble, I say, “I know it’s shallow, and I used to feel guilty about it. But eventually I came to terms with my reality. That’s just how it was. I didn’t choose for it to be that way, and it didn’t seem right to try to force something to be there that naturally was not.”

  I walk back to my desk, take a swig of water, then chuckle, “I think it may have been easier that way. I can’t say I’m particularly fond of the turn my life has taken in the last five days. I have only been in Charlotte’s presence three times, none of which consisted of us being naked and sated. Although, the day I unofficially met her, I got a small taste of what that would be like.”

  I stand up straight. That’s it! “Maybe that’s my problem! It’s unfinished business. Maybe I need to finish what I started, bring it to its natural conclusion, and I’ll be good. No more obsession, no more distraction, no more of this gnawing need to have her.” I’m kind of excited about this epiphany.

  Jackson clearly is not. “Ian. Shut the hell up. That is the stupidest, most narcissistic bullshit I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. And now that I personally know who you are talking about and consider her my friend, I suggest you watch what you say. I’m on your team because I’d actually like to see things work out between the two of you. But if you’re going to take the low road and only be concerned with yourself,
I’ll make sure she wants nothing to do with you.”

  He’s pissed and rightfully so. Charlotte didn’t deserve that, and it’s more proof that I am functioning outside my comfort zone.

  I drop into my chair in defeat. “You’re right. I’m acting like a little bitch. Feel free to kick my ass anytime. It sounded good in the moment, but it would never work out that way. Something tells me when I finally scale the walls of her fortress, it will be hard to find my way out…if I ever do.”

  Jackson stands up, looking me square in the eye. “Ian, my friend, the thing you need to understand is that when you finally get there, you won’t ever want to leave.”

  It was a late night in the office making up for lost time. Now I’m home and it’s a relief to be here, in quiet solitude. Just me, a scotch, and the moon sparkling over the ocean. Here, I am less edgy about my failures where Charlotte is concerned. It still bothers me, but right now I’m free to contemplate how I should go about overcoming the obstacles she keeps throwing in my path. Every time we are face to face, the situation deteriorates so quickly I lose my footing. Literally every time I am around her nothing goes the way it is supposed to and I am left feeling like someone put me in a fucking straightjacket, which inevitably pushes me to the point of throwing caution to the wind and just taking what I want…her.

  Thankfully, my self-control is honed enough to prevent me from making that mistake, where I would be destined to the graveyard of overbearing, maniacal dickheads. I’m already standing at the bloody gate, I don’t need to push it.

  In the calm energy of my sanctuary, I can replay everything—from my interactions with Charlotte to the fatherly advice and reprimanding I’ve received from Jackson. Here, it is easy to see that my judgment was clouded by my overblown ego that has been molded and diligently refined by the women in my past. Each of them spoon-feeding it with everything I asked for and expected of them, never questioning me, never denying me, never challenging me. At thirty-six, I have zero experience dealing with a woman that stirs a desire so deep within me that when I am near her, when I see her and smell her and sense her energy coursing through her body, the need to touch her is almost painful. Yet, she won’t let me, and I’m forced into even more unfamiliar territory.