Page 73 of Defiled Innocence

“Oh. So, he had been so busy with work.” She pauses to air quote the word. “That he hadn’t seen you, so he uses the little spare time he has to watch reality TV with you. But it’s not because he likes you.”

“You’re making it sound different than it is.”

“You two are sleeping together, right?” I’m suddenly aware I share too much with Sarah during our working lunches.

She’s one of the few people at the center that’s relatively close to me in age, and we’ve often swapped stories about the men coming and going from our lives.

“It’s just not like that,” I argue my point with absolutely no evidence to back up my claim. And by the sly grin she has while she sips her beer, she knows it.

“Okay. I mean you’re full of it, you know, but fine. I’ll let you live in your delusion a little longer.” She shakes her beer bottle. “I’m going to get another, you want another?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” I finish the last bit of my drink and hand her the empty bottle.

It’s been a long week. Between the usual chaos I deal with on any given day, the carnival planning has taken up even more time.

The company we used last year is booked for the weekend we’ve picked and gotten permits for, so it was a scramble to find another.

When my calendar flashed Friday this morning, it made waking up at six in the morning a little easier. Finding Dmitri still in the shower made it even better.

Just remembering the way he beckoned me into the shower with a crooked finger makes my body crave him. A memory of his tongue on my clit flashes in my mind and my pussy is wet for him again.

Casually, I cross my legs, trying to stamp out the fire building in my panties. The memory alone of the mind-blowing orgasm he gave me before we finally got down to washing ourselves is enough to make me crave him.

It’s a story I won’t be relaying to Sarah, or she’ll never believe that our marriage is more like friends living together. I mean there is such a thing as friends with benefits. But I’m not sure that extends to sending a bodyguard with me everywhere I go or watching shitty TV.

Is it possible that this situation has turned on me when I wasn’t paying attention?

Since I agreed not to go digging into the embezzlement issue, I’ve been more relaxed. He had my back. He took care of it so I wouldn’t lose the center.

His determination to keep me from remembering Lucas as any sort of criminal didn’t just come from some loyalty he had to an ex-business partner. He seemed genuinely concerned that my memory of Lucas be only of the great brother he was.

By the time Sarah gets back with the drinks, I’m more than ready to have mine. These thoughts are getting me all muddled up in my mind. They’re dangerous.

My dad lulled my mom into a sense of love and safety too, and look what happened. She was unloved and uncared for so long that she turned to drugs. If he had shown her any compassion, any sort of caring, maybe she wouldn’t have overdosed.

“Whoa, you okay?” She laughs after I chug half the bottle.

“Yeah. Just thirsty.” I nod, covering my mouth as a burp threatens.

“Lia, you’re vibrating.” She pokes my pocket where my phone is nestled.

“I am!” I take a few more sips, then dig it out. “Oh, it’s Christian.”

“Hmm.” She raises her brows while drinking. “I think he has a thing for you; he’s been calling the center trying to get a hold of you for a few days.”

“Has he?”

“He never leaves a message, just checks to see if you’re there and if you have a second.”

“Oh. That’s weird.” I swipe my screen to life.

Hey, Lia. Just checking in to see how you’re doing. Look, I have a great opportunity that I think you’d be really interested in. Could mean a good amount of money for the foundation.

I read it a second time because it doesn’t sound like Christian. It sounds like a sales pitch, and that’s not the guy I know.

What is it?

I have no clue when it comes to investments.

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