Page 33 of Selfish Desires

“Because the last time, you fucked me to get rid of me.”

Vincent clenched his jaw in response and jolted back to life when I twisted the brass doorknob to open it. “When can I see you next?” He stepped closer.

“You’ll figure it out. You’re a smart boy.” I yanked the door open.

“Let me walk you out, at least.” Vincent grabbed his pants, dressing and wasting zero seconds.

“Not necessary. Have a good night, Vincent.”

And then I was gone.

If Wendy believed this little stunt she pulled at the hotel room last night would deter me from winning her back, she was dead wrong. After Wendy left, I jumped into the shower, turning the water to boiling, wanting to melt my skin down to the bone. Once the water had turned from scalding to tepid, I climbed out, skin raw, nerves frayed, but resolve hardened. As I dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt, I stared at my reflection in the steam-clouded mirror. The man staring back was a hardened version of the one who had left Wendy. More worry lines on my forehead, deeper clefts around my mouth, and shadows under my eyes that hadn't been there before. My hair, which used to be thick and black, was now peppered with strands of grey.

As I buttoned up my shirt, I thought about the mess I had gotten myself into. Three years ago, the threats were becoming too big, too large, too out of control. They had started about a year before I decided to leave Wendy that night. It began with strange, silent calls to my work phone and soon personal cell. Then, there were pictures. And not just any pictures. Images that hauled me back to a time I wanted to forget. A time when I was not the man Wendy fell in love with but a man who would do anything to get ahead, no matter the cost. With Each threat, there was an anonymous note warning Wendy would be next if I didn't comply. But comply with what? I had no idea what that maniac had meant. I knew the person behind the threats but hadn’t a clue where he lived at the time.

The world of dirty deals and shady characters, a life I had left behind, only to be caught up in it again. But it wasn't self-pity that gripped me; it was determination—a fierce resolve to set things right. What would Wendy even think when she learned I returned to my old ways?

My phone rang, snapping me out of my daze, and I reached for it, seeing Zachary’s name appear.

Fuck.

I answered on the fourth ring, noting it was almost ten at night. “Hey, Zach.”

“Did you see Wendy?”

“Yes, I did.” There was no point in lying, not that I’d lie to Zachary about this anyway.

“How did it go?”

“It went.” I walked over to the cold glass, leaning against it, watching the dark ocean crash against the shore. “She left me. I think she was trying to teach me a lesson.”

“She left you? Like for good?” Zachary’s voice kicked up an octave.

“No, Romeo. Sorry to break it to you.” I rolled my eyes. “She needs time to think.”

“And you gave it to her?”

“I didn't have much of a choice.” I ran a hand through my damp hair, pressing the phone harder against my ear. “I’m willing to do anything to make this right. After how I fucked everything up? I mean, she is safe. So, there’s that. I guess what I did was worth it because here we are now. Alive.” And semi-miserable, I wanted to add.

There was a pause and then a sigh on the other end of the line. “You know you're crazy, right? This... whatever this is... it's not healthy.”

“You don’t think I fucking know that? And who are you to give me relationship advice?” I clenched my jaw, banging my head against the glass.

“What was that sound?”

“I’m trying to crack my head open.” I closed my eyes, only seeing Wendy and the final look she threw me over her shoulder before she walked out for the night. What the hell did I put her through? I was a fucking monster.

“Don’t bother. You won’t find anything in there.”

“Very funny.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, regretting taking this call. “So, did you just call to gossip or…”

“Can you meet me in Boston tomorrow morning at eight?”

“Boston?” I echoed, turning my back to the ocean view. “What's in Boston?”

“A business.” Zachary's voice was cryptic and full of weight. “It’s a gutted restaurant, renovations abandoned. I don’t know if it’s a sound investment.”

“And you want me to go with you?”

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