Always Desire

by James, J. P.

  I smile at the memory. “Yes, you did tell me a happy ever after was possible with him,” I say to Carla, picking up the engagement photo from the top of the piano.

  She grins at me like a cat who’s swallowed a whole birdhouse full of canaries. “You’re welcome.”

  Carla pauses near my shoulder to look at the photo with me.

  This is one of my favorites. In it, Neil is on one knee in his dark blue Armani suit. He’s pretending to propose while looking up at me like I’m the most incredible man he’s ever met. Of course, I’m wearing a matching blue Armani suit, and appear overjoyed. He’s proffering an open jewelry box, and he’s got a devilish grin on his face.

  The photo version of me seems to be saying, “Yes to now and forever with you, Neil Woods.” Looking at the photo, it feels like I can actually smell the flowers and feel the happiness of the moment. Warm contentment suffuses my form and I smile once again because I’m certain now in his love for me. The fact that he left an entire day of work just to take photos shows his adoration to the nines.

  I’m such a lucky man, and I smile while gazing at the photo.

  “I’m so glad for you, honey,” Carla sighs. She envelops me in a warm and long hug. “You are actually living your dream, and I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more than you.”

  My friend knows me better than anyone else. She knows that this is the kind of life I’ve always wanted but never dared to ask for. A man who loves me unconditionally. Plus, we’re looking into fertility treatments, so hopefully soon, we’ll have a family. Children who bear his name, and who will always have his protection and love.

  Carla goes back to the soft rug in the center of the room where there’s a tray of snacks and drinks. She flops down on the thick pile of pillows, and picks up a glass of mimosa. After taking a sip, she sets it back down on the silver tray and takes one of the little cucumber sandwiches Neil had delivered for us.

  “I’m getting used to this fabulous lifestyle of yours.” My bestie groans in appreciation around the crustless little sandwich. “Seriously, does life get better than this?”

  Smiling, I lower myself down across from her with my own sandwich in hand. It’s got smoked salmon, little green sprouts, and some sweet and spicy sauce. Perfect. I take out half of the sandwich with one bite.

  “You know you can come over here anytime you want, Carla. You’re part of my family, now and always.” Suddenly, I tear up, thinking about all of the years my best friend has been there for me; all the rescues she’s mounted; and all of the times she’s squeezed my hand to let me know everything was going to be all right. The tears spill over, hot and plentiful, running down my cheeks and staining the front of my t-shirt. “I just love you so much,” I tell her.

  Carla playfully nudges me with her bare toe, an answering tender look on her face.

  “I love you too, honey,” she huffs. “Now, let’s get back to looking through this catalogue of home furnishings. I mean, Neil has some amazing décor around this place, but you should put your imprint on it too. After all, you’re getting married, sweetheart. This is your home too.”

  “Right, right.” With my tears dried on a convenient napkin, I try to get it together. “Okay,” I grab my smartphone that has my own list of favorite items. “Where were we?”

  We spend the next hour going over different palettes and styles, as well as oohing and ahing over some of the designer furniture on various websites. Who knew that one day, I’d be buying expensive pieces like this? Just as we’re thinking about wrapping it up, Carla’s phone alarm goes off, startling us.

  “Oh, joy. School pick-up time!” She closes her notebook and grabs her phone from her giant mom handbag, which I swear she’s been carrying around in one form or another since we were in college. Frowning down at the phone, my friend turns off the alarm.

  “Don’t act like you’re not excited to see those girls after a long day of them being away from you at school.”

  My best friend rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You know my girls are fantastic. Who wouldn’t love those adorable little munchkins? It’s just that some of the other parents are complete nut jobs. The stories I could tell you about the school pick-up and drop-off line…”

  Barely a month ago, Carla decided to permanently change her work schedule so that she could work from home every day except Mondays. That way, she gets to spend more time with her kids and be at her most productive in the morning without having to battle traffic. She’s loving it.

  As my buddy gathers her things to leave and go get her kids, I tidy up the used plates and glassware. “Thanks for taking time out of your busy work day to help me with this, Car. I really appreciate it. You’re the best.”

  She smiles. “Of course, honey. You know I love doing stuff like this. I can’t think of anything better than helping my best friend settle into his amazing new life.” She slings her giant bag over her shoulder and comes in for a hug. “Oh, and don’t forget to pick up that batch of vitamins. I know guys say they have unlimited sperm, but you want to use your best stuff for the baby. I know you’ve been crazy busy, but try not to let this slip your mind.”

  Of course. I’ve been making weekly deposits at the sperm bank, and Neil and I are going to select an egg donor and do IVF. Damnit. I’ve already forgotten to pick up the pills a couple of times this week, but Carla is much too nice to remind me of my screw-ups. These vitamins are important, and she’s right. I need to do better.

  “I’m on it as soon as I put all of this stuff away. The pharmacy is just down the block.”

  “Good.”

  At the elevator leading down to the parking deck, we exchange a cheek kiss and another hug. “I’ll update our online list if I see more stuff,” she says by way of goodbye before the elevator whisks her away to her beautiful daughters.

  I sigh once the doors shut. I can only hope to be as good of a parent one day as she is. For now, I’m trying to be a good fiancé.

  A quick glance at the wall clock tells me the time.

  When is Neil coming home tonight anyway? I chew my bottom lip, thinking about what’s in the fridge for dinner and what my man likes to eat. Then, a smile suddenly takes over my face.

  Having dinner together. Snuggling under the covers before bed. And soon, a baby on the way. All signs that Neil and I truly are past the dating phase. He and I are officially a couple and are so very domestic these days that it’s wonderful.

  Of course, Neil is working just as hard as he did before our engagement, but instead of spending four days out of five in the office until after nine, he’s making the effort to have dinner with me before eight o’clock at least twice during the week. These dinner dates are just a few of the things I treasure about my new life with my handsome fiancé.

  I slip my phone from my pocket and call him at the office.

  “This is a nice surprise,” his rich voice pours over me through the receiver when he answers. “What did I do to deserve such a treat?”

  Neil sounds absolutely focused on me, and deliciously so. No other sounds come to me through the phone. No papers being rustled. No other people in the room with him. The way he loves me with such single-minded devotion and care is incredible. It’s perfect. I can’t get enough of it, and I hope he never gets tired of me.

  “You deserve it because you’re Neil Woods, the man I love.”

  He chuckles softly. “I love those sweet words of yours, my little boy toy. Your confessions of love make me happy every time I hear them.”

  I giggle like a high school kid in love, unable to help myself. “Stop being so perfect, or I’ll have to lock you in this house with me so you can never leave.”

  His voice lowers to a growl. “No problem. I can just start making money from home and do some work in between keeping you satisfied in bed.” He laughs again. I love how he’s ready and willing to play with me, no matter how emotional and needy I get.

  “Speaking of satisfied,” I say, smiling. “What time will you be ho
me? I want to start dinner in time for you to eat as soon as you get back.”

  Neil makes a soft, dismissive sound. “Don’t worry about cooking. We’ll just order takeout. Whatever kind of food you want. Even those weird Vietnamese sandwich things you like.”

  “Nope.” With the phone on speaker, I walk from the main living room and into the kitchen. “Absolutely not. I won’t take no for an answer. I want to cook for the man I love, and that’s that. If you’re not going to answer me, I’ll just start making your favorite dish now and keep it warming in the oven until you get here.” He loves my lobster mac and cheese, and I adore making it for him.

  The billionaire laughs softly, and I find myself smiling even more. He just makes me so happy. “All right, my love. I’ll be home by around six thirty tonight, no later than seven if the project I’m working on right now refuses to cooperate.”

  “Perfect. I don’t—”

  Just then, a high, terrifying screech begins to sound. Even though I’ve never heard it before, I know it’s the apartment’s security alarm going off. My heart jumps into my throat, and my fingers turn into icicles. I gasp Neil’s name.

  He doesn’t hesitate. Suddenly, I hear noise coming from his end of the phone like he’s just dropped something heavy on the floor. “Milo! Run upstairs to the panic room. Now!”

  I can’t believe this. How can anything happen here? The penthouse is supposed to be safe.

  “Milo, baby! Go now! I don’t think you have much time. I’m on my way!”

  His shout shoves me into urgent action. With the phone clutched in my hand, I start running through the kitchen, heading for the spiral stairs and the panic room hidden at the back of the bedroom closet. My heart is racing. My bare feet slap so hard against the cool marble that my toes hurt. I bolt faster.

  A loud noise from the direction of the elevators spins me around.

  No! I can’t look. I don’t have time for this. Strange people are in my home who shouldn’t be here. Heart racing, I reach the stairs in a flurry of feet and, gripping the gleaming steel railing tight, I run hell for leather upstairs toward the panic room.

  Oh god, what’s going on? My lungs burn, and I feel a burst of panic coming on. But I can’t afford a panic attack. Not now, when I’m in a dire situation.

  With a low hiss that sounds as loud to me as a bomb going off, the elevator doors slide open. I don’t stay to look. I keep running as if my life depends on it.

  “There he is!”

  “Target is on the stairs,” a cold voice barks into a walkie-talkie.

  The sound of booted feet chases me up the stairs. I run, panting and gasping, desperately trying to beat my attackers. The phone, my lifeline to Neil, presses into the sweaty palm of my other hand.

  My love is with me. I can’t lose this game. I won’t.

  My vision tunnels down to the remaining distance to the panic room. I’ve got to get through the wide, upstairs hallway, past the linen closet on the right, and then past the spare bedroom on the left.

  Run! a voice screams at me from the back of my mind. Run, and don’t stop until you’re safe.

  My feet slap desperately against the marble floors with every frantic step. The breath burns in my legs. My mouth is dry with fear.

  In the first days of me living in the penthouse apartment, Neil went over the details of the panic room with me. He told me to go there at the least sign of trouble and to not be afraid to use it. The room would keep me safe until help arrived. Just for practice and to make myself feel safer, I went there a couple of times to see.

  Thank goodness for the familiarity because I race toward my salvation now. All I need is to get into it and hide there until Neil comes to the apartment with the cops.

  That’s all I have to do. Easy peasy, right?

  I chant the instructions to myself as I dash through the wide open space of the upper part of the apartment and then finally into our bedroom. Why is the damn apartment so big?

  The sound of heavy boots pounding against the marble floors is terrifying and loud, but I have to make it to safety. I can’t look back at what’s coming for me. The safety of the room is waiting.

  “The target is running fast toward the bedroom!” a loud voice shouts. Whoever the man is, he’s getting closer and closer.

  “Don’t let him reach the closet! There’s a panic room in there!” a new voice crackles with authority over the radio. My heart seizes. How do they know?

  The thunder of boots rushes closer, like a stampede of men.

  “Go, go, go!” the voice over the radio shouts. “He’s only one person, for God’s sake! Don’t let him get away!”

  More shouts come.

  “Stop talking, and get him! I don’t need excuses. Attack and restrain. Go!”

  My palms slap hard against the half-open bedroom door as I run into it, shoving the heavy wood all of the way open. My heart is racing as my feet pump furiously.

  I’m scared. So damn scared. My body is giving out and wants to stop, but I won’t let it. I’m so close.

  There it is! The closet door looms as I run toward it, my hand reaching out in desperation.

  But it’s too late. Hard bands of flesh and bone grab my arms as someone yanks me from behind, their hands snatching at my hair.

  “Gotcha!” a man growls. He pulls me hard against his heaving chest, and I feel the rough gear of some kind of military uniform through my thin shirt and jeans.

  “NO!” Screaming, I try to twist away, but whoever it is holds me tight and shakes me hard. I lose my balance and gasp, feeling myself about to pitch forward onto my stomach. “No! Stop it! Leave me alone!”

  The hard arms yank me upright, and my head jerks like a puppet on a string. The man imprisoning me spins me around, and I see the horror of what’s happening. Four men have broken into the penthouse. They’re all in black and have guns and zip ties strapped to their belts.

  The men in our penthouse are frightening, and their faces are cold. A couple of them are panting hard from chasing me, but the others just look pissed off. Suddenly, the group of three men crowding around the bedroom door parts, and a man in a suit walks through the door and past them.

  Now this man truly looks scary. Despite the fact that the other men are wearing guns and look like they came fully prepared for some sort of military operation, it’s this man, in his fancy suit and snake eyes, who freezes me where I stand.

  He looks dangerous and predatory, like a well-fed shark who is ready to tear into the underbelly of vulnerable prey just because he wants to. The man’s white teeth flash at me.

  “Greetings, Mr. Barnett,” he says silkily, like we’re meeting at a high society party instead of my bedroom that he just broke into. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.” The invisible touch of his gaze feels both slimy and rough. My arms automatically twitch in defense, and I struggle against the man holding me, desperate to get away.

  “I’m Don Hunt, and—” his cold gaze moves once again to my face, “even though you don’t know me, your fiancé is about to pay very dearly for saying no to me.”

  What? Is this some kind of mafia-style revenge? But even as I struggle, the effort is futile. I need Neil, and I need him now.

  26

  Neil

  “Milo. Go now. I don’t think you have much time. I’m on my way.” My shout barely dies out before my fingers fly up to end the call. The alarm is set to automatically alert the police, but I want to call them myself. The screen is only blank for a moment before my phone screeches with a notification that the alarm in the penthouse has been breached.

  Milo. Panic grabs a hold of my gut, but I force myself to keep it together. A bunch of scattered papers, along with my broken laptop are all over the floor, victims of my instant reaction to hearing my lover scream. The alarm I have on the penthouse isn’t meant for play. It doesn’t go off by accident. It only went off because there’s a real threat to Milo, placing him in imminent danger.

  Shoving the cell phone in
to my jacket pocket, I stride quickly toward the door. Getting to Milo is the only thing on my mind.

  Suddenly, my phone goes off. I wrench open the door to my office while glancing down at the phone. Across the room, my startled assistant looks up from her computer, her face a mask of concern.

  “Mr. Woods? Is anything wrong?” Shelly asks just as the name on the phone registers.

  It freezes me in my tracks.

  Victor Lancaster.

  One thing I don’t believe in is coincidence. The other thing I don’t believe in is luck.

  I shoot Shelly a meaningful look and answer the call.

  “This is Woods,” I bark.

  “Hello, Neil. Did I catch you at a bad time?” a sibilant voice sounds. The fear gnawing at my gut also snaps my temper free.

  “I don’t have time for the bullshit, Victor. Get to your point. Now.”

  Lancaster laughs, which makes him sound like a vomiting cat. A growl rises in my throat, and he laughs even harder.

  “You sound agitated, Neil. Is something wrong at home? You not getting enough tail from your pretty boy fiancé?”

  He wants me to lose control. It’s an obvious tactic that I’ve never fallen for in my life, but I’m only a breath away from saying something that could make this call even worse. Later, I’ll make Lancaster pay for his words, but now, I need him to ante up and stop fucking around.

  “I’m waiting, Victor,” I grind out, close to losing all of my patience.

  “Yes, you are waiting,” he says. The joviality is suddenly gone from his voice. “You’re waiting because I’m the one with all the cards. I am the one who decides how this game is going to go and who comes out on top.”

  The fact that he thinks he’s so great makes the blood turn to ice in my veins. My hand trembles around the phone. “What’s going on, Victor?” My voice is as hard as steel.

  “Oh ho!” He goes back to sounding jolly and amused. “I love it when you pay attention to me.”