The Essence of Fate

by Alison E. Steuart

  “You know Nana. Nobody reads between the lines like she does. She knew something was up and believes she figured it out.”

  Jackson’s concern is visibly noticeable as his entire face melted, leaving his mouth slightly open. I can practically hear the, Oh Shit, that just echoed through his head.

  “She found an obituary for Charlotte’s father, Michael, which led her to an article about the accident that took his life. He wasn’t alone. She made an assumption that the woman with him was his mistress.”

  Now Jackson’s face has transformed to more of a holy shit expression. Nana must have been on the right path. “Adding to that tragedy, two years later her mother passes away, but there’s no information as to why. Yet Charlotte consistently donates to charities that revolve around drug addiction and rehabilitation…in her mother’s name.”

  Gobsmacked would be a good description of him now. “From the look on your face, Nana hit the nail on the head.”

  “Damn. It never dawned on me that’s what Nana was up to, let alone that the information would be out there. I’m impressed, but I also feel guilty because Charlotte trusted me not to say anything.”

  “You didn’t say anything. So don’t beat yourself up. If I had any insight and stopped long enough to see past the hard-on I had, I could’ve easily found the same information. Nana knew what she was doing. All she needed was a name, and Charlotte didn’t ask you not to tell anyone that.” I give him a look that says, you know I’m right, so chill.

  “I guess it’s better this way. At least now you know what you’re dealing with. It’s heavy, man. I think she keeps it bottled up inside because when she told me what happened, I could tell she was trying hard not to cry. It was even getting me choked up.”

  It felt like someone kicked me in the stomach. The idea of her hurting like that messes with my head. Who does she turn to? Does she even have anyone to turn to? I would help her if she would simply let me.

  “That bothers me more than I care to admit.” I can see the sympathy in Jackson’s eyes, not only for Charlotte, but for me, as well. That’s my cue to change the subject. “Have you reviewed all the contracts with Novas Alturas? I’ve been through them twice, and it looks good to me.”

  “Yep. Looks good. T’s and i’s all properly crossed and dotted. Now comes the fun part,” Jackson states sarcastically. He hates dealing with the city, county, and state and all the hoops they make us jump through more than I do. It’s a long process before we can get to the actual fun part of putting up an amazing building, then adding the finishing touches.

  On a chuckle I say, “Let the schmoozing begin.”

  To that, I get a deadpan stare that clearly means, don’t remind me. Neither Jackson nor I are very good at kissing ass. Thankfully, having to do so is a rare occasion, since everyone we deal with has a boss that is a close friend of ours. Regardless, the process is still tedious, and it will likely be a year, if not more, until we can even break ground.

  My phone pings. Not wanting to appear overly anxious, I let it sit a minute before checking the message.

  Charlotte: Hi Ian. I won’t be able to join you for dinner tonight. I forgot I made plans with a friend of mine. Thank you for the invite and thank you, again, for lunch yesterday. Enjoy your weekend

  The tension that text has triggered throughout my body is causing a slight headache. It’s complete bullshit and generic on a level that’s insulting. Enjoy my weekend? How the hell am I supposed to do that when I’m not spending it with her? Dammit!

  Jackson knows what the text says without seeing it. “A no-go for tonight, eh?”

  “Jackson, I kid you not, I am about to get in my car, drive over to her goddamn office, and kidnap her!” I raise my voice in frustration. “I know she wants to be with me. I can see it…I can fucking feel it! God, if she would just give it a chance, she would know it was meant to be.” I slam my phone down, probably cracking the screen. Rubbing my hand across my face, I blow out a breath to relieve some of the tension and see Jackson staring at me, somewhat in shock. “What? Go on…spit it out. I know you think it’s funny.”

  “No. It’s not that I think it’s funny. I’m just surprised you’re in this deep. Hell, you’ve only known of her existence for a week and you’ve had pretty limited contact with her, yesterday being your most extensive. The crazy thing is, I honestly don’t think it’s because she’s not letting you have what you want. You’ve got feelings for her, man. And if you want to get anywhere with her, you better start being honest…with her and yourself.”

  He’s completely serious and probably right. But that kind of reality is so foreign to me, I don’t even know where to begin.

  “Unfortunately, I feel like a lumberjack performing brain surgery and my patient is about to bleed out.” I stare at her text again, wondering what the hell I’m going to say back to her. Maybe something along the lines of, I’ll be there in ten minutes, be naked and ready, would be good.

  “I don’t know, Jackson. I don’t do clumsy very well. I’m used to being steady on my feet with everything I do. This is the first time in my life I’ve had to tiptoe around, watching everything I say and do. I respect why I have to do it, I’m just not good at it and I’m paranoid as hell that I’m going to make another mistake.”

  Afraid like I’m starting to whine, I cut the conversation short. “I’ll figure it out, Jackson. Thanks for listening.” With that, I start going through papers on my desk.

  “It’s all good, man. And don’t worry, like I said, she’ll come around. Whatever it is that’s going on between the two of you is pretty fucking heavy. Seems inevitable to me. Be patient, my friend.” He gets up and heads to the door, stopping before he exits. “If you don’t end up convincing her to go out with you tonight, come on by my place. Becca and Braden would love to see you.”

  “Thanks, Jackson. That sounds great. I’ll let you know,” I answer in a low tone and give a small nod as he walks out the door.

  Once I’m alone, I can think about my response. I told you not to lie to me, is the first one that comes to mind. I’ll let you off the hook tonight, but tomorrow you’re mine, has a nice ring to it. Or I could ignore her altogether and say, I’ll pick you up at 7. In the end, I go with my gut.

  Me: I would tell you to enjoy your evening and tell your friend I said hello, but I know you are lying to me, again. That’s okay, for now.

  * * *

  Do me a favor though. When you’re alone tonight, I want you to lie comfortably on your bed, naked, relaxed, eyes closed. Focus on your body, the surface of your skin chilled and exposed. Be with that sensation for a moment. Feel the cool air tighten your nipples and raise the hair on your skin. Then I want you to think about what you feel when we’re together, what sensations go through your body when I touch you. The heat that starts low and spreads throughout every cell until it reaches all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. The vibration that starts at the point of contact, the electricity that lights up inside you, stealing your breath and making your heart beat faster. Be with it, let it expand.

  * * *

  Then I want you to think about what it is you want most in that moment. Be honest with yourself, Charlotte.

  * * *

  I’ll be honest with you. What I wanted most in that moment was to have the warmth of your naked body surrounding me, your soft skin like a blanket smothering the chill that has clung to me for what feels like an eternity. Your scent drugging my mind so that all it knows is you, your touch, the kiss of your exquisite mouth, the wetness between your legs guiding me to where I belong. Then, after I make you scream my name as your body writhes and pulsates around me, I do it again and again and again until you have reached the point of pure ecstasy. And when you have enough energy to open your eyes, the first thing you see is me and you finally understand that you are mine.

  Seventeen

  Charlotte

  When I get in bed after what seems like an extremely long day, I continue to repeat Ian’s tex
t in my head. I must have read the damn thing fifty times, so I’ve got it memorized.

  I should have known it wouldn’t be a normal it’s okay, I understand. No, he has to melt the skin off my body with his sensual meditation exercise that was enough to have me rushing home to do exactly what he said, then break out some toys and thoroughly enjoy myself while imagining what he wanted most.

  When I read it to Erika, she told me if I didn’t put my parent issues aside and “just fucking go get me some of that,” she would personally take matters into her own hands by drugging me, tying me up, then calling Ian and telling him to come get me and keep me for a week. Oh…and to fuck some sense into me. Which made me laugh, until I realized she was serious.

  The truth is, I didn’t even need to go through with his exercise to know the answer. It’s right there, clear as day, and it’s been there since the moment I laid eyes on him. I want him, badly. I just don’t know if I can trust him, which is a deal-breaker for me. Maybe if he hadn’t left me humiliated in the parking lot the day we met, after making me feel more alive than I had in over a decade, I would have felt more at ease about his intentions. He said he’ll explain it to me someday, but I don’t really see how that would make a difference. I was beyond humiliated, I was hurt by what he did, and I’m not sure I can get past it.

  To his credit, he has surprised me with his efforts to change my mind. The portrait he drew of me is so special, so meaningful that I probably would have forgiven him if I didn’t have parent issues. Then yesterday’s lunch date was enough to make me at least want to try—until I started to get that falling sensation and I panicked.

  Lying between my soft sheets, I adjust to the darkness that turns blue as it mixes with the moonlight. I pull off the sheet that’s protecting me from the chill Ian wants me to feel. I don’t want to be cold, exposed, vulnerable. But I can’t ignore his request. He is an enigma. Everything about him is everything I swore I’d never want, but I cannot deny that something else is there. Something that intrigues not only my curiosity, but very deep emotions I’m not prepared to acknowledge. He stirs something to life inside me that scares me and leaves me yearning, all at once. I need to go through the motions of his exercise to see where it takes me.

  My nipples harden and the hair stands on my skin, exactly as he said it would. I don’t like the cold, but I stay with it, regardless. I’m surprised to feel movement in the air I thought was still, subtle shifts and waves gliding across my body. I hesitate before letting my mind go to him, still insecure about opening that door. It doesn’t matter—he’s relentless, even in my mind.

  There he is, the masculine beauty of his face stopping my heart, those eyes drawing me in, hypnotizing me, evaporating my armor as a slow smile softens his bold features. Almost instantly, a wave of heat runs through me. It starts in the center of my body and spreads to the extremities. My fingertips are hot, and the back of my neck feels like it would be wet if I touched it. I don’t, though; I keep still, amazed at what is happening to me, simply imagining Ian.

  I stay with it, like he said to. I’m not afraid. There is no sensation of falling. I don’t want to run. I feel alive as my blood pumps through my heart and rushes out to every limb. It’s exhilarating, and in it there is joy, like an explosion through my chest. As I imagine him touching me, his hand on the side of my face, that familiar tickle of electricity flashes through my body, expanding in my core. When his hand glides down my neck, then my chest, and firmly takes hold of my breast…thumb swirling against my hard nipple, my back arches in wanton invitation.

  On a startled inhale, my eyes pop open. My God! What happened to me? I lie there staring at the ceiling, my breathing heavy, body suddenly cooling in the shifting air. He did it again. He grabbed hold of my mind, my body, my soul, and this time he wasn’t even near me. He was able to drive his point home through written words he sent to my phone, words he knew I would obey and he knew what the outcome would be.

  Because right now, in this moment, the thing that I want most—so much it almost hurts—is him. I want him touching me, kissing me, bringing me pleasure I know only he can provide. I want to hear his voice vibrating through my chest. I want to smell him, not from a distance, but up close while my mouth is on his skin. I want to wrap my legs tightly around him and hold him close, deep inside me while I release around him.

  I wish I was confident enough to call him and tell him that I did his exercise, that I want him as much as he wants me. If I did, I know he would come over. He would be here with me, tonight. The reality of that thought flips the switch from an exciting joy and desire, to the frightening sensation of falling with no chance of survival. Inevitably, that brings to mind a picture of my mother, the last time I saw her, a shell of her former self. The next day she was gone, suffering no more.

  I get up and put on my robe, no longer able to handle the cold air on my skin. I go to the kitchen to fix some tea to help me relax and hopefully fall asleep. Halfway through the cup, I’m calmed down enough to let my thoughts go back to Ian. Nothing as drastic as potentially calling him and enticing him to come over—clearly I wasn’t ready for that—but maybe I could slowly get to know him, establish a kind of friendship and see where it takes us. That seems safe and responsible, where I’ll have more control. Where I’m not diving in head first. Satisfied with my decision, I get up and put my empty mug in the sink and head back to bed. No more sensual meditation exercises to mess with my mind.

  I turn off the light and snuggle into my blankets. Tomorrow I will hit the refresh button with Ian. I won’t purposefully avoid him, and I’ll approach him with a friendlier attitude. I still have to get through my dinner date with Gabriel tomorrow night, but I’ll keep it neutral and not give him any signals there might be a chance for more.

  I really wish I had never accepted his invitation. I was overwhelmed and not thinking clearly. Gabriel is a very nice and extremely attractive man, but I feel nothing when I’m around him. Unlike the avalanche of emotions I feel whenever Ian is around. Nothing compares to that.

  After finally dozing off and sleeping soundly through the night, I’m awakened by an incoming text. I’m surprised how late it is and disappointed that I missed the sunrise, again. I must have needed the rest. Grabbing my phone, I’m even more surprised to see the text is from Ian. It’s barely 7:00 in the morning. What the hell?

  Ian: Good morning, Charlotte. Did you do what I told you to do?

  If I were close enough to the edge of the bed, I think I would have fallen onto the floor. I cannot believe he just texted me that…direct…demanding…

  “Ugh!”

  I sit up, flip my hair out of my face, and stare at my phone. “Well, good morning to you, too. Jerk!” I am not responding to that. Here I was, all happy about trying to start over with a new attitude, giving him a chance, and he throws ice water on it with his controlling bullshit that makes me crazy. I knew I shouldn’t have given him my number.

  Getting out of bed, I head to the kitchen for coffee. I don’t even want to deal with him until I’ve had at least one cup. Getting the brew started, I’m back in the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I think I may have stomped from the kitchen to the bathroom and back, I’m so annoyed. Once I’m on the balcony, I sit down, breathe in that rich aroma, and take a fortifying sip. It’s as if it flows directly through my veins and up to my brain where it starts connecting neurons, giving me some clarity.

  “Did I do what you told me to do? Really? As a matter of fact, yes. I did! But you won’t be hearing about that any time soon. I’ll be keeping that whole event to myself and you can sit there wondering,” I say out loud.

  I pretend to occupy myself with my phone, going through news feeds and emails. I honestly have no idea what I looked at, because I’m too busy thinking about Ian and the fact that I did do what he told me to do and very easily confirmed what I want is him.

  Making matters worse, I have an intense need to tell him so. Maybe I’m misreading his text. Maybe the
tone is more sweet and pleasant, not the demanding, control-freak tone I’m imagining. What if he’s just excited about the idea that I did it and wants to know what happened?

  Another bucket of cold water gets dumped on my optimism with his next text.

  Ian: Charlotte? Stop avoiding my question.

  Oh my God! “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I slam my phone down on the table. Is he watching me or something? I stand and look around, but there’s no way he could be. I’m up too high, and nothing close enough is facing me. Presumptuous egomaniac.

  Of course, it pisses me off that he’s right. He’s probably always right, and if I start seeing him, he’ll destroy my self-esteem with his need to prove it. On that note, Sibel opens one sleepy eye, thinks about it for a second, and crawls out from under the covers. She’s not too keen on the idea of anyone messing with my self-esteem. She’s also not too keen about sitting here saying nothing in a volcano of frustration…that hasn’t erupted yet. So she kicks the top off and lets the lava flow.

  Me: I’m not avoiding you. I was attempting to enjoy a cup of coffee on my balcony. You’re interrupting me.

  * * *

  Ian: Then we’re even. You’re always interrupting me and you don’t even know it. Tell me about the exercise.

  * * *

  Me: What exercise?

  * * *

  Ian: Charlotte. I know where you live.

  * * *

  Me: So you’re just going to show up here? Then what? You can’t get in.