Page 7 of Treble

“Guilty.” I smack her ass, making her yelp. “Come on. Let’s go, and if he’s already left, I’ll be finishing what I started.”

6

KERI

Victor insists on driving and the ride to my apartment is by far one of the most awkward I’ve experienced. While the orgasm was fun, I hope he doesn’t think it was an epic, earth-shattering experience for me. To make matters worse, the silence is deafening, but I’m afraid to break it. What would I say? Thanks for the subpar tongue lashing?

We pull into my assigned parking space and Paul’s car is still here. I’m the biggest asshole for leaving him, but even more so for chasing after Victor and grinding against his face when I should’ve been checking on Paul. He was in such a hurry to leave when I rejected him, why is he still here?

Afraid he could be passed out on my bathroom floor, I rush out of the car, keys in hand, and don’t glance back to see if Victor is behind me. I unlock my door; he’s still inside. As I walk in, the windows are still open, and I’m surprised a neighbor didn’t report anything suspicious. I check the bathroom but he isn’t there, leaving only my closed bedroom to investigate.

“Fuck, did something die in here?” Victor coughs, and my worst fear creeps in. Is Paul dead in my apartment somewhere?

“C-can you check my room?”

Victor moves past me and opens my door. “What the fuck?” He shuts it quickly and pivots to face me. “We should go.”

“Why?” I reach around him to open the door but he blocks me. “Come on, what is it?”

“We should go,” he repeats more forcefully. “Trust me.”

“Shit! Is he dead? He’s dead, isn’t he? Fuck! What am I going to do? Am I going to jail? Areyougoing to jail? It was an accident! He drank the almond?—”

“Shh, no. He’s not dead. Far from it. But I have a sneaking suspicion he went shopping at the same place you did yesterday.”

“What?” I search my memory, wondering what he could be talking about. Is Paul also lactose intolerant and ate the ice cream? “Victor, talk to me. What’s going on in there? Did he shit himself on my bed? Do I need to eat my rental deposit and move?”

“He’s asleep.” He rubs the back of his neck. “But I think he was waiting for you.”

Victor steps aside, and I carefully open the door. It’s dark but the streetlight outside illuminates the room like a spotlight from my window to my bed. Just as Victor did, I quickly close it. I can’t unsee it—Paul naked, bound and gagged on my bed. What did he think was going to happen when I returned? He’s slick with lube as if he wanted to be my own personal Slip-N-Slide.

Is that my new edible underwear?

“Victor,” I breathe, barely able to speak. “Get me out of here.” As much as I love the idea of a lubed up wrestling session on my bed, this is too much.

He wraps his arm around my shoulder to guide me away from the room. “I need to make sure he’s all right, but I don’t want you to be here for it. You’re staying with me until after I’ve hired someone to sanitize every inch of your apartment.”

Victor leads me out to his SUV and doesn’t return for over ten minutes. As I’m about to check on him, the front door opens and he slams it behind him, putting on his sunglasses as he approaches the car. He gets into the driver’s seat and before we back out, I ask, “Everything okay in there?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, keeping his gaze forward. “He won’t bother you again.”

“What did you do? I know you’re behind why every man ghosted me after a single date. Please tell me you didn’t hurt Paul.”

Reaching behind my headrest, he glances at the rear window as he backs out—despite having back-up cameras with an LED screen. His jaw is tight and there’s a very real possibility Paul isn’t alive. As he rights his posture, his expression softens and he admits, “Paul will be at rehearsal tomorrow. Though he may need concealer or some sort of cover up, unless he wants people asking questions.”

“So, you didn’t kill him?”

He drives for a few seconds, stopping at the end of the aisle of carports. Turning to face me a small smile appears as he shakes his head. “No. I may be obsessed with you, but I’m not a killer. If you don’t believe me, hop out of the car and find out for yourself.”

“Do I have to?” I wince. “There was so much lube.”

Cradling my chin with his thumb and forefinger, he brings my lips to his. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this gentle kiss. I can’t help melting into him.

In books and movies, I root for the men who never give up on their love interest, regardless if they are the hero or the villain. I’m unsure which one Victor is, but there’s no excuse for Paul’s actions. Sure, I feel a hint of remorse for the almond milk debacle, but to assume I would be up for a hook up of those proportions is the thing nightmares are made of.

I’m brought to the present when a car honks behind us. Victor and I break apart, and he drives me to his apartment with his hand in mine. My pulse hasn’t stopped racing since we left his house, spiked by seeing Paul in my bed. Though part of me is intrigued by the lengths he went to.

There’s a very good chance Paul will still perform next to me, and despite Victor’s reassurances, it doesn’t settle me any. All of Paul’s antics could be a ruse to steal my position or embarrass me before my audition. He could even be auditioning with the same company. I’ve become too comfortable, too trusting. Even though Victor isn’t in the same section as me, he could easily shift to cello if he wanted to. Everything I’ve worked so hard for could go up in smoke. I need to keep my wits about me with these men.

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