Page 9 of The Last Call
My eyes fly open from the memory Julius’ assertion invokes and the tightness in my chest contracts harder. That’s what he said too. Acrid beer breath wafting against my cheek as his impatient fingertips clawed at my thighs. Sliding under my panties. I wanted to kick and hit and scream. But I couldn’t. Then or now.
Swiping at the wetness burning my cheeks, I hop up from the tub and grab my favorite towel. I need to be dry and covered and strong. Stop being so stupid. I haven’t cried since college. Not since that bastard destroyed what I thought was mine.
He lied and he hurt me. Permanently scaring me even if the damage is no longer visible. I thought I was over it. I thought I was healed. I thought I was whole.
Until tonight. Julius unwittingly ripping the wounds open again. Yet, this time it was me who lied about him hurting me. Not physically at least. No, the damage he causes is way worse. Breaking me all over again mentally and emotionally.
My skin burns from rubbing the terrycloth against myself so vigorously, and I force a deep breath and calm cadence. I don’t have time for this. I need to get some sleep. Mack will be here sooner than I’d like to take me to David’s penthouse, and I’m sure as hell not going to let Julius ruin my date or my business.
I don’t give a damn what he thinks or says. He’s just some rich arrogant asshole who broke into my house and thinks he knows everything. Well, fuck him. Fuck him and his money and his righteousness. Julius Sabatini can kiss my ass.
Iwink at Mack before pushing open the opaque glass interior doors to David’s suite. Attempting, with the light-hearted gesture, to reassure him that I’m fine despite what happened to me last night. Convince him I’m all right regardless of his seething fury over the break-in to my apartment after he left me for the evening.
As scary as Mack is, we both know he can’t battle Julius any more than I can. So we agreed business as usual. I keep my appointment with David today and fly out tonight to spend the week with Sergei. Just like planned. Just like normal. Just like expected.
Although we are both very well aware none of this is planned or normal or expected. Not with Julius storming into our lives.
With nothing else we can do, I leave my friend to wait as usual in the foyer. Maybe ease his mind a little with his newest book. The Lincoln biography interesting enough to pass the time but not enough to engross him too deeply if I need him. Surprising to everyone what a history buff he is. Except to me. I know how intelligent he is under the thick layer of beefy brawn.
The weekend hideaway is as tidy as always. The living room bereft of clutter or personal items. As if no one lives here. Which is accurate Monday through Friday. And the Saturdays when he volunteers at the Boys and Girls Club, following up with his good son persona on the Sundays when he takes his mother to church. Yet every other weekend he makes the three-hour drive to fuck me here without anyone’s knowledge. Way too much money to spend for such an extravagant home with such little use. But the penthouse keeps his naughty secret safe.
David stands on the balcony. Enjoying the unobstructed river view framed on each side by mid-size skyscrapers in the growing city. Between us, a gorgeous breakfast covers the surface of the round table and chairs set. Once again spoiling me with my favorite food at the peak of the season. Cherries, sliced and pitted, heaped in the bisque bowl sitting in the middle of a gold edged place setting. Mimosas fill the sparkling flutes. Cinnamon scones nestle on each layer of a three-tiered stand serving as the centerpiece.
My heels click on the hardwood, and he spins around from the clatter in the otherwise quiet apartment. Pleasure brightens his face to see me, and he holds open his arms, welcoming me. I run to him as gracefully as I can in stilettos and launch myself at him. Squeezing him tight with my arms coiled around his neck and my legs wrapped around his waist. My lips brush his ear in a breathy insistence. “I’ve missed you.”
“God Syd, I’ve missed you too.”
Only an act on my part but in this moment there’s a rare kernel of truth. At least to the ritual of our greeting. Normalcy compared to last night. Reassured from the familiarity of our relationship. Of the easiness between us from the roles we’ve played so many times before.
“I don’t ever want to let you go.”
His fingertips burrow deeper into my back. “Then don’t.”
A complete improvise from our regular conversation. More emotional than I probably should be. But for some reason I find comfort in his touch and his words. Unfair to him to make this about me, I need to dial this performance back. Giggling as I slide down his thick body. A former college defensive end he’s broad and sturdy despite his rounding stomach. “But we shouldn’t let all of this to go to waste.”
He gestures toward the indulgent spread he’s laid out. A hopeful expression pinching his already drawn face. So sweet to try and please me. “You like it?”
“I love it.” I give him an innocent peck on his cheek, nuzzling against his morning scruff. Playful and relaxed to ease the transition from my overwrought reaction to our reunion. I select the seat right next to his. Keeping my thigh pressed against his leg to build our connection again after being apart. “Especially the cherries.”
An almost childlike grin lights up his face. Giddy that I’m delighted with his offering. Which is pitiful for a man of his prominence and position. Always seeking the approval that he never received as a child from the people he cared about. The thought stirring emotions in me I try to tap down. This is business. A client. A job. Friendly but not friends. Sex but not love. Together but not permanent.
I don’t like thinking about him like that when I’m with him. I’m his well-read companion until I morph into his bad girl. I moan over a large bite of the decadent fruit to confirm I really do love his treat and nod toward the file lying on the end table right inside the French doors. “I read the brief on the Rosewood case. Quite unexpected that he chose that argument to lead with, don’t you think?”
His knife stops in mid-air and the pat of golden whipped margarine slides off, landing two inches from the pastry he intended to butter. Another impressed expression brightens his eyes. “Caught me by surprise too.”
Perfect. He launches into the granular details. Kind of interesting, kind of not. I don’t get the luxury of deciding one way or the other. His interests are my interests. At least for the rest of the afternoon.
Once he winds down from his dissertation, I show my concern to reflect the same worry I know he carries. “I hope the visibility will be helpful toward your retention election.”
“I hope so too. That gives me the most likely chance to be appointed and not have to deal with the damn partisanship bullshit anymore. At least for ten years anyway.”
I curl my fingers over his, squeezing with a genuine encouragement I hope I convey. “Well, I’ll be here to support you either way. You know that right?”
My sincerity must be welcomed. He lifts our coupled hands and kisses the back of mine. “I do know. Thank you.”
His smile lingers, studying my face for a few seconds. “Did you enjoy your brunch, baby girl?”
His cue. The change is unmistakable in his expression and his tone behind his mischievous term of endearment. He’s ready to play. I lower my gaze to my plate, empty except for a few crumb flakes from my croissant scattered across the middle. Feigning a bashful modesty he loves with only a quick glance up at him as I flutter my lashes. “Very much. Thank you.”
