Love So Dark: Billionaire Romance Duet

by Stasia Black

  “I was just saying good night to Mistress,” Daniel says, a slight tension entering his voice.

  A crease appears between Jackson’s eyebrows. His eyes ping-pong between me and Daniel before he nods. “All right. Good night, Daniel.”

  Daniel hurries out the door and Jackson holds out a water bottle to me. I grab the bottle and head out into the hallway. I have half the bottle drunk before we’re outside. Oh blessed water. Drinking also effectively keeps me from having to talk to Jackson. Bonus. Unfortunately, that only works until the bottle is empty.

  Jackson holds out the second bottle to me, but I shake my head. “I’m good,” I say, gasping a little because I didn’t breathe much while I downed the water.

  A small smile of amusement curls the edges of his mouth. “Next time, just tell me that you’re thirsty.”

  Next time.

  I look at the cobbled stones in front of the building where we stand waiting for the valet to bring the car around. I was already thinking in terms of next time too, though, wasn’t I? Just moments ago, with Daniel. I’d thought I wouldn’t mind being with Daniel again only as long as Jackson arranged it and was present. Because I was wondering when we’d be doing this again.

  Next time. Fuck, what does all this mean? Even as I question it, scenes from tonight flash on repeat. The absolute exhilaration in the moments where I took control of Daniel. Shoving the dildo up his ass and conquering him completely.

  But not just Daniel. Jackson too. By the end, I captured his attention so completely, I’d mastered him as well.

  The heady sense of exhilaration hits me all over again, even while standing on the sidewalk dressed in my completely sensible business attire.

  Next time.

  Yes, there will definitely be a next time.

  Eight

  CALLIE

  My muscles burn and I seriously contemplate murder as I stare at the clock on the wall that slowly counts down to zero. Fifteen seconds to go.

  “Don’t start slacking now,” shouts the CrossFit instructor. “Every second counts. You’re only cheating yourself!”

  “She means you,” my sister Shannon adds oh so helpfully from beside me where she does another squat with a kettlebell.

  I glare at her, groan, then jump onto the knee-high box again. I make it, thank God. My legs feel like jelly after the thirty-minute session. I look to the clock again. Nine. Eight.

  “Get those last reps in. I see those of you trying to wait out the clock.” The instructor’s eyes zero in on me. I’m tired enough that her attempt at shaming only just barely works.

  “Told you she meant you,” Shannon says, straining to get out of the squat. “Mother of the deity, this damn thing weighs a thousand pounds.”

  “This is all your fault,” I whisper back. “You were the one who wanted another way to wake up ever since your boyfriend got you off coffee.” Damn Sunil, her Buddhist boyfriend.

  I jump off the box. The instructor’s still staring at me. Five seconds left on the clock. Her stare turns to a glare. Mother fucking bag of shit pissing—

  I jump up on the box one last time and then the buzzer sounds announcing the end of the session.

  Shannon drops the kettlebell and collapses on the floor. “Don’t blame me,” she huffs, gasping for breath. “I wanted—” she pants, “—the yoga class. CrossFit was your bright idea.” She wipes the sweat off her brow with her forearm.

  I sit my ass down on the box and dangle my feet as I catch my breath. Mother fucking CrossFit. I push some sweaty hair that’s fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear.

  “The whole point was to wake you up. Yoga’s shit. It would put you to sleep.” I take a swig of the water bottle I brought with me. “Besides, this is whipping our asses into amazing shape just like Lydia said it would.”

  She just makes a face at me. “You suck.”

  I grin. “What are sisters for? Come on, get your ass up, lazy. Unlike some people, I have to show up at an office on time.”

  Shannon flips me off and I laugh, then stand and hold my hands down to help her off the ground.

  She takes them and I hike her up till she’s standing beside me. “Ugh, get off of me, you’re all sweaty.” She lets go of my hands and pushes me away.

  Which only makes me try to hug her.

  “You are so gross,” she squeals and holds out both hands to keep me at arm’s length.

  I relent, but only because I’m fucking exhausted. In spite of what I said to Shannon, I agree with her about CrossFit. There are some things that are just wrong to put your body through at six-thirty on a Thursday morning. Especially since I’ve barely been able to sleep since Monday, tossing and turning in my sheets all night.

  I can’t stop thinking about it. Constantly running through every second of what happened with Jackson and Daniel. Jackson. God. I haven’t run into him at work at all. When he dropped me off on Monday, he said the next move was mine to make.

  He’s respected my boundaries since. Which alternately makes me grateful and irrationally pisses me off. The last thing I need right now is Jackson chasing me, but Monday was… just wow. Off the charts intense. I obviously can’t stop thinking about it. Was it not that way for Jackson? How the hell has he not even tried to contact me, boundaries or not?

  I lean my head back and blow out an exhausted breath. Yeah. Way too early in the morning for this shit. Not that I’d ever let my sister know I regret signing us up for the class.

  “Great job, class,” says the instructor, flashing a bright, toothy smile. “I’m so looking forward to working with you all next week while Indira is out visiting family.”

  “Make her stop,” whispers my sister. “I can’t handle that much pep before seven a.m.” She pauses as if thinking, then adds, “Or ever, really. Did you hear how she introduced herself as Brittani with an ‘i’? Like when we’re cursing her in our heads for torturing us, is it really that big a deal that we’re internally misspelling her name?”

  I don’t do a good job of stifling my bark of laughter as I stumble on my jelly legs for the door. For having such a Zen boyfriend, Shannon’s kind of a pessimistic bitch. Which of course makes me love her.

  We’ve never been as close in our whole lives as we have been the past couple months. Well, maybe when we were really, really young. But we were little more than strangers for most of my adolescence and all of my adulthood. Even when she lived with me and was helping raise my son.

  Then we reached our make or break moment when I lost Charlie. To be honest, I thought for sure it would break us. Instead, Shannon’s stuck with me. We’ve talked more in the past few months than in the whole decade before. We don’t talk about a lot of deep shit, but we talk. We’re… sisterly.

  She tells me about her boyfriend, her first really serious relationship. I tell her about my new friends at work and my job. She tries not to judge me so harshly and to let up on telling me what to do. I keep half of what’s going on in my life—aka, my sex life—secret so she doesn’t have shit to lecture me on. I’d say overall she and I are a work in progress.

  “Don’t forget to stretch,” Brittani with an ‘i’ calls out to the class. Shannon and I ignore her. I might stretch a little bit if I have time. Shannon works from home with her graphic design business, but I’ve got to get my ass to work.

  “If you don’t stretch, lactic acid can build up in the muscles and—”

  The door shutting behind me cuts off Brittani’s perky voice. My legs feel shaky.

  “Shit,” I say, putting a hand on the wall for balance. “Would it make me a pussy to hold onto the wall all the way to the locker room?”

  Shannon looks over at me and glowers. “No, it wouldn’t, because that would indicate weakness and pussies—a word I don’t like at all by the way—are incredibly strong. They push human beings into the world.”

  I pause and stand up straighter. “Day-um. I’d high-five you if I could lift my arm. You’re just full of hidden depths.” Then I realize what I j
ust said and start laughing, cracking myself up. “Hidden depths,” I manage through a wheezing laugh. “Pussies—they’re full of hidden depths. Get it?”

  She rolls her eyes and puts a hand on her temple. “You are so juvenile. Are you ever going to grow up?”

  I grin at her as I stumble along. “Not if I can help it. Hey look, we made it to the locker room.”

  She pushes through the locker room door, still shaking her head at me.

  “Callie!”

  I look up when I hear my voice called and see Lydia coming around the corner of the lockers just ahead of me.

  “Oh thank God, Lyd, help me to one of the benches before I collapse!”

  She shakes her head at me and looks to Shannon. “I take it you did CrossFit this morning?”

  “I told her we should have done yoga,” Shannon quips.

  My legs give out as soon as I make it to the bench that runs along one wall of the locker room.

  “It’s your fault,” I accuse Lydia. “You said we should take it.”

  Lydia holds up her hands in a show of innocence. “I said that because Indira’s usually the teacher. I don’t know anything about this new chick.”

  “She’s the devil.” Shannon only barely lowers her voice to relay this bit of information.

  “I thought you were Miss Peace and Sunshine now?” I look at Shannon with an eyebrow raised. “We’re all connected by universal energy that we can tap into through meditation, blah, blah, blah.”

  She shrugs. “My worldview doesn’t have to include evil CrossFit taskmasters. I can leave her in the Judeo-Christian realm. Therefore, hell and devils. Of which she definitely is one.”

  I can only stare at her for a second, then I burst out laughing. “You are such a piece of work.”

  She gives a mocking smile. “All right, I’m off. I’ve got the meeting with Keller today. See you later.”

  She gives Lydia a little wave, then she heads off to grab her bag from her locker. She’s never one for drawn-out goodbyes or chatting just for the sake of catching up. Since she works from home, she just showers from there.

  Lydia sits down beside me and I drop my head onto her shoulder. “Why can’t you just teach all the classes? Then you could give me special treatment and everything would be perfect.”

  Lydia laughs again and pats my knee. “Oh, poor spoiled baby. I’m sorry, are you actually being forced to get in shape? Besides, look at these guns.”

  She pulls back and grabs one of my arms. I put up no resistance and it’s completely floppy under her grasp. She holds it up in a muscle-man pose. Then she narrows her eyebrows at me.

  “It doesn’t work if you don’t flex, bitch.”

  I make a whiny noise but she just slaps at my bicep without a care. I groan but do as she asks. I flex and she feels around the muscle definition. She makes an impressed noise.

  “See? A little torture goes a long way.”

  I pull my arm back out of her grasp and sprawl more on the bench, doing a total man-spread thing. The bench is plenty long and there’s not enough people here for me to be in anyone’s way so I’m not being a dick about it. I just don’t want to hold any part of my body up.

  “Oh my gosh, I have never met anybody more dramatic in my life. Don’t you have to get to work?”

  I close my eyes and groan. “Don’t remind me.”

  Lydia smacks me in the stomach and stands up.

  “Oww,” I whine even though it didn’t hurt. It’s just how Lydia and I are. I sit up straighter as she turns to go. “Wait, I haven’t gotten any updates on you and Red since last weekend. What’s going on with that?”

  Color rises to Lydia’s cheeks and if my muscles didn’t feel like pudding, I would’ve jumped to my feet and demanded answers. I wave a hand instead. “Just imagine me jumping up and down and doing the whole girly squeal thing. Now spill.”

  Lydia’s hands start to fidget and she tips back on her heels a little.

  “Not much to tell,” she hedges. “We’ve just been texting a lot all week. We may have gotten together last night for a coffee that turned into dinner that turned into late-night drinks at her place…” She trails off and averts her eyes. “That turned into breakfast this morning.”

  “Oh my God!” I drag my tired ass to my feet and hug her. When I pull away, she’s smiling even though she still looks embarrassed as hell. “So it’s good?” I search her eyes. “You guys were, you know,” I cajole, “compatible?”

  “God,” she pushes me back. “Don’t ask me things like that!”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “I forget how much of a prude you are.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m not a prude about doing the things in the moment. Just, you know,” she waves a hand, “I don’t want to go through a play-by-play afterward.” She raises her chin. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  I bust out laughing at that. She glares.

  “I thought you were too tired to stand up?”

  I groan. “Don’t remind me.” I let out a dramatic sigh. “Unfortunately, I do have to drag this tired ass to work now. What’s your excuse? Why the hell are you here so early? Especially if you got to wake up in Red’s bed?”

  Lydia glances down at her watch. She’s quaint like that. She still wears an actual honest-to-goodness watch instead of just her phone like the rest of us. She uses it for other things like keeping track of her heartbeat and timing distance when she jogs and things, but still.

  “I’m teaching a spin class in ten minutes. Speaking of, I better go and get ready.”

  “They all abandon me!” I make an exaggerated smooching noise as I kiss my palm and then pat her cheek roughly with it. “All right, hon. See ya later.”

  She squirms away from me and makes a face. Now that I think about it, she and Shannon are a lot alike. They’ve only spent a little bit of time together, but I should fix that soon. I should call for another girls’ night. You know… erm, one that’s actually about the girls instead of hooking up.

  “Remind me again why I’m friends with such a freak?” Lydia asks.

  My grin only widens. “You know you love me!” I call after her as she heads for the locker room door.

  “Yeah, yeah. Text you later,” she calls over her shoulder as she goes.

  As soon as she’s gone, I start feeling the workout all over again. I think it was those box-jumps that really killed me. Ugh, I need a nap, but instead I have to go to work. No fair.

  A quick shower helps loosen up my muscles, but I only feel more like laying down once I’m done. I drag my sorry ass to my locker, turn the combo lock and pull out my gym bag. The locker room is plenty active even though it’s so early. Lots of other people have the same idea as me—get in a workout before they start their days. I strip down without feeling too self-conscious since there are half-naked women all around me.

  My work clothes hang crisply from the bar at the top of my locker. I quickly dress in the modest blouse and loose skirt that hits below my knees. No more sex kitten tight pencil skirts for me.

  I’m just putting up my sweaty gym clothes in the breathable laundry pouch on the side of my bag when I hear the telltale alert tone from my phone that means I just got a text message.

  I grab my purse and scramble around inside for my phone. At last my fingers grab onto the small, smooth flat surface and I pull it out. I touch the screen to wake it up and am surprised to see that I have two unread texts.

  Usually the only one who texts me is Lydia and obviously, I just saw her heading to class. What if Jackson’s self-discipline has finally broken down and the texts are from him?

  I click a little too eagerly on the text icon only to see the most recent is from Bonnie asking if I can pick her up some coffee on my way in this morning. She knows I like to treat myself to a mocha from the coffee shop on the corner on days I go to the gym before heading into work.

  Stupid, stupid to think Jackson would text and get all excited about it. What the hell is wrong with me that I’m
obsessing so much about a boy? I try to shake it off.

  My thumbs go to my phone.

  ME TO BONNIE: Sad u know my workout schedule just b/c it means good coffee for u.

  BONNIE: is that a yes? *insert praying hands*

  I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling.

  ME TO BONNIE: Of course. I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress.

  BONNIE: :)

  I shake my head again as I look to the first text that initially came in before hers. I ignore the second stab of disappointment when I see it’s from an unknown number, not Jackson. It has a video attachment. What the hell? It must be a wrong number. Or some kind of spam.

  But in the little window I see the start of the message.

  UNKNOWN: We need to meet, Calliope.

  My eyebrows furrow. Well, clicking just on the message itself without opening the attachment shouldn’t introduce any viruses to my phone. It seems like it could be from someone I know—though certainly plenty of phishing scams can find people’s first names, so that doesn’t always mean anything. I won’t click the attachment if it’s spam after all. I touch the screen to open the message.

  And then almost drop the phone.

  UNKNOWN: We need to meet. You pick the time & location. Else this video goes viral. – G

  The first frame of the video shows beneath the message. It’s of me on my knees in the Gentry Tech conference room table. Conference Room B. My shirt is open and pulled down to my waist. Men are seated all around the table watching the show.

  Me, on display.

  My hands shake and my knees buckle. I sink to the ground in front of my locker. G. Gentry. My former boss and the organizer of and participant in my gang rape. He sent this.

  Blindly, I reach for my purse. My hand goes inside and I dig around. I’m hardly breathing as I drag out my headphones. My hands tremble so hard I can barely get the cord in the small jack at the top of my phone.

  It takes about four tries before it finally goes in. I bring one of the earbuds up to my ears and jab numbly at the play button with my other hand.