Page 38 of Lust
Hope remained that by this time tomorrow, Sara would be at my side. I had made her aware of my feelings; I only wished it had gone down differently. But after the initial shock dwindled, she’d come to the same conclusion I had years ago.
We belonged together.
* * *
“The fundraiser tonight is a black-tie affair.” Steve stared at the notebook. He had the build of Captain America’s body double and looked odd reciting an agenda and working on time management. “I’ve scheduled to have your tux dropped off by seven.”
“Cancel it.”
“Sir,” he protested. “Tonight’s event is very—”
“Cancel it,” I snapped. My leg tapped restlessly against the floor of the presidential suite. The comfortable couch in the living room failed to ease my fidgety limbs. With eyes masking the agitation, I pressed on the only topic that mattered, “Do you have the updates I asked you for?”
Steve’s blue eyes gleamed at the question but gave nothing away. As an ex-Navy SEAL, his credentials could stretch past the responsibilities of my chief staff member and into dubiously legal activities if I so desired.
His best asset? Discretion. Steve didn’t ask many questions or even bat an eye when I had ordered him to follow a police officer or record his communications with Sara.
I gave Sara the night to digest, then anxiously awaited her apology. She saw Tobias behind my back after specifically instructing her against it. Surely, she was never interested in him, merely confused by her emotions for me. She’d apologize for the folly now that I had expressed my feelings.
But Sara never reached out.
Frustrated, I texted her with my hotel details, asking to meet so we could talk. I kept the text vague in case a wary Raguel went through her phone.
More radio silence.
Impatient with the progress, I enlisted Steve’s help. There was no way Sara would communicate with that boy after what transpired between us but… just to be safe.
Heaving a sigh, Steve put down the agenda notebook and grabbed a manila folder instead. He passed it along without a word.
And that’s how I learned of Sara’s betrayal.
That’s how I knew she had planned for the night.
And that’s how I lost my mind.
Sara sent a text to Tobias with instructions and the code to the front door of our house.
Myhouse.
In another text, she expressed her excitement for tonight.
I was wrong. Sara’s misgivings were about me, not Tobias, for she had promised to give herself to him.
My throat closed from suffocation. My eyes blurred with the red I saw. Jealousy, as I had never experienced, clawed my insides. I was fucking choking on it. Coughing, Heimlich, nothing, absolutely nothing could cure me. I was so twisted up from the fit of envy that I blindly stood and headed for the mini-fridge.
Steve watched me from afar. Something resembling pity might have followed me. Fuck. Did he know?
“What do you want me to do?” was all he asked in his professional demeanor that never demanded more than I wanted to share.
I said nothing for several seconds as I threw open the fridge door, searching for mini alcohol bottles.
Two warring voices had guided me all these years. A demonic one pushing me toward giving in to my impulses and Michael’s pacifying voice to rethink those choices. I fought to crank up the volume on Michael because he sounded so very much like the good angel. But he rarely won because the way of the fallen angels was more gratifying.
So, I felt no remorse when saying, “Nip it in the bud. Accident. Brutal enough to incapacitate the boy for a few days. Let’s call it a warning shot.”
He asked no more questions because my insinuation was loud and clear. Other than that, the less I knew, the better.
Once he left, I familiarized myself with the remaining tiny liquor bottles in the fridge. Sara’s betrayal stung like nothing before, and I was buried in self-pity, misery, and defeat.
