CHAPTER TWENTY-
SEVEN
DANIKA
I tried to make my expression less unpleasant than I felt when a decked out Mona came striding into my gallery just a few minutes before closing time the next day.
There goes my day, I thought, my face so stiff it would have cracked if I’d tried to fake a smile, which I didn’t.
Her gown was short, gold, and heavily sequined. I’d have bet good money it was one of the many dresses she wore in Tristan’s show.
She gave me a warm smile as she approached me directly.
Like we were old friends.
We were not. I nodded at her, setting my jaw, bracing myself, as she drew close.
My eyes were drawn to her enormous chest. I’d forgotten it was quite so huge. It looked extra ridiculous in her tight dress. It had a round neckline that she practically spilled out of. She had the kind of rack that should have lost at least one plastic surgeon his license, because seriously, who would agree to do that to a person? She was more than a little in danger of tipping over on the spot.
I felt sick to my stomach, and she hadn’t even opened her mouth. I really didn’t like dealing with this woman, or looking at her, or remembering that she existed.
“Danika! How are you?” Her voice was filled to brimming with what honestly sounded like genuine affection.
I just couldn’t credit it.
I didn’t buy it, not for a second, but I had strong doubts that that had anything to do with her. More likely, I just didn’t like her, and I was looking for things to back up that dislike.
Things other than the fact that she’d been intimate with my own personal lifetime obsession.
“Hello, Mona,” I kept my voice civil, if nothing else. “What can I do for you?” She beamed. “I just came to see if you wanted to go and grab a bite to eat, since your shift is ending, and mine doesn’t start for a few more hours.” Her tone was engaging and personable, as though this was the most reasonable of requests.
I didn’t hesitate.
“Sorry, I have
plans.”
“We can be quick. I actually wanted to talk to you about a few things, sensitive things that I’m sure you don’t want to discuss in front of your co-workers.” She glanced around, her eyes finding Kate, who was likely not even out of earshot.
It was a threat, though nothing but her words were communicating that, her tone as warm as ever.
I took a few deep breaths. It was immature, but I wanted to call Tristan and chew him out for having to deal with this. “I’ll meet you in ten minutes,” I told her, voice deceptively calm.
“Perfect! Bistro near the theatre?”
“That’s fine.”
She left, and I glared at her back.
It took me longer than ten minutes to get there, more like thirty, while I closed up I took my sweet time, because really, what was my motivation for rushing into this mess?
I honestly thought about ditching out completely, but I didn’t want her to feel she’d gotten the better of me, so I went, my mood black.
She was eating when I approached, but I didn’t order anything. I was leaving as soon as my pride would allow.
She set down the fork she’d been using to eat her salad, opened her mouth to speak, but we were interrupted by a couple that had seen her in the show the night before and wanted her autograph.
She smiled sheepishly after they’d left.
“That almost never happens. Bizarre timing.”
I just nodded. “What did you want to talk about?”
She looked vaguely uncomfortable for a moment.
Finally, some understandable reaction to something. Everything else about her was just so off to me.
“It’s about Tristan.”
Of course, it is, I thought.
“I’m sure you know he and I are very close. I assume he’s told you about our longstanding friendship.”
I smiled thinly. “Strangely enough, no.
You haven’t come up. Though I do recall you telling me that you two were the best of friends, last time we met.” She blinked. “Yes, I remember that.
That same meeting where you told me there was nothing rekindled between you and him. Let me ask you something, is that still the case?”
I gave her a level stare. “I really don’t like to talk about my personal life with people I barely know. If you have a question about this, perhaps you should ask your very close friend, Tristan.” She was unfazed, as friendly as ever, not even a hint of temper evident in response to my words. “He’s been very close-lipped lately. He’s been different, edgy, less happy, for the last few weeks. This worries me very much, you see, because I’ve been there for him for so many years, and I know he counts on our friendship to help him through rough spots. Tell me, did you and he have a similar relationship? Did you help him through rough spots, Danika?”
I was shaking, but my voice was firm.
“If that’s all, I’ll be going.” My
composure was hanging on by a very thin thread.
“Wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come across so pushy, but something happened yesterday that worried me.
You see, Tristan is trying to get me hired on for a different act, for a different magician, when my contract is up in two months. I don’t understand this. Do you have any clue where this might be coming from? Did you tell him that you didn’t want me working with him?” The scarred, raw, burned organ in my chest got just a tiny bit less sore. He was getting Mona out of his life. I wanted to celebrate, then smash my own head into the wall for being so happy about it.
“I’ve come to you, woman to woman, because I think that us women handle things like this better than men do.” She smiled.
I prayed for the strength not to throw something at her.
“Well, that’s an
interesting way to look at it, but I don’t share the view. Here’s what I think: You should be taking this issue to the person who it involves, the man you say is your very close friend, instead of a woman you barely know who has nothing to do with your friendship with this man.”
She was still unfazed. “That’s fair. I don’t blame you there. So are you two back together, or is this a casual type of situation?
I stood. “We’re talking in circles.
Take this to Tristan, please.”
I left, feeling like an uncivil bitch, because even as I’d left rudely, I hadn’t rattled her pleasant air.
I called Tristan when I got to my car. It was the first time I’d actually called him since this crazy train had started up again. We’d been communicating mostly through messages, but if we did talk on the phone, it had always been him calling me.
He answered on the first ring, his low voice sounding delighted and surprised.
“Danika, sweetheart. I was just thinking of you.”
I paused. I hadn’t been prepared to start like that. I had to get my bearings for a long moment. “I just spoke to Mona,” I began.
Long pause. “Was she bothering you?
What happened?”
“I think she wants to be buddies. I think she’d like us to hang out and talk about you, because we’re all such very good friends.”
Another long pause. “I’ll talk to her.
I’m very sorry about that.”
I tried to leave it at that, but… ”How would you like it if Andrew went out of his way to corner you, to talk to you about me?”
He cursed, long and low. “I’m very sorry. I’ll handle her. Are you okay?” I shut my eyes, letting his concerned voice wash over me. “I have a weird question for you. Last time I met her, she told me something…was she…is she your best friend?”
This thought, more than anything, was getting the best of me.
Longest pause of all. “In my whole life, there are only two people that I’ve ever called my best friend.” My eyes filled from his raw tone as much as his words.
“You and Jared.”
I sucked in air. “I’d like to see you tonight,” I managed to get out.
“Yes,” he said quietly, vehemently.
“I’ll be at your house, right after my show, okay?”
I opened the door for him the second he got to it. I’d been waiting, watching out my front window like a lovesick puppy.
I wore nothing but the T-shirt I’d pilfered from his house a few days prior.
He took one hot look at me and took me to bed.
There I was, topless, and him, the most gorgeous creature to ever lay his hands on me, nuzzling between my breasts, cupping them, kneading them, paying each one very special attention.
And all I could picture was Mona, nearly tipping over with those giant boobs of hers.
I had the sudden and overwhelming urge to bolt. That would have been the wise choice.
Instead, I opened my big mouth.
“They’re pretty tiny, huh? Compared to what you’re used to, I mean.”
He froze, then pushed up on his elbows, giving me a puzzled look.
Puzzled and a bit glazed over. He’d definitely been into what he was doing.
I held my hands out a good foot in front of my chest, to illustrate just what I meant.
His expression stiffened, and he started shaking his head, still looming over me, one of his legs wedged high between mine.
I needed to get away and take a breather. I was embarrassed that I’d even brought it up, no matter that it’d been bothering me.
“We don’t need to go there, Danika.
Who I’ve been with, who you’ve been with, in the lost years. I don’t have the stomach for it.”
“I was just surprised…I mean, how did I never know that you preferred huge, fake boobs. I’m surprised you never tried to talk me into getting some.” He pushed back from me until he was sitting up, feet over the side of the bed, his hip still wedged high between my legs.
I started to push myself away, but he stilled me with one hard hand on my hip.
“You want to do this? Fine, but you’re starting.” His voice was resigned and more than a touch resentful. “How long had it been since you’d f*cked Andrew before we were together at the ranch?” I flinched at the crude language, feeling somehow ashamed when I shouldn’t have. Logically, I knew that. But being here, with him and talking about how I’d shared my body with some other man made me look at it in a way I never had before. Made me compare it to the awful way I felt when I thought about who he’d been with.
“How long, Danika?
How many
weeks, or was it days before you moved from his dick to mine?”
That was too much, and I pushed away, wrenching out of his hand, turning until I was on my knees on the bed, intending to leave.
His chest covered my back, pinning me in place before I got far. “I’m sorry.
That was an a*shole thing to say. As you can see, this is a touchy subject for me. I don’t prefer huge, fake tits, if that’s what you were asking. I’ve only had what I preferred with one person, and that was you, Danika. I wasn’t with her because I liked her boobs. I was lonely, and she was a friend, okay? There’s not much more to it than that, and I’m sorry I asked about Andrew. Truth be told, I don’t want to know about you and him. Just saying his name makes me feel sick to my stomach.”
I shut my eyes when I told him, “I broke up with Andrew long before the ranch. Several months, actually. We were just friends at the time. There was no overlap. Not even close.”
He didn’t answer with words, but his breath grew ragged as he moved tight against me. I felt him working at his fly between us.
“At the wedding, you made me think you were still together,” he accused, but there was no heat in it. Even without seeing his face, I knew he felt nothing but relief at the revelation.
“I know. I’m sorry. I was using that to keep you at a distance.”
He barked out a laugh as his hands pushed my skirt up, yanking my panties down. “How did that work out for you?”
I didn’t answer right away, because he was pushing his cock into me from behind. I braced myself on my hands and knees as he worked himself in hard, my eyes trying to roll up into my head with the pure sinking pleasure of it.
“Not well,” I finally admitted on a gasp, when he’d buried himself to the hilt.
His only response was to slowly glide out of me, then thrust back in hard.
I whimpered, arching my back.
“This right here,” he growled, pulling slowly back out. “This is what I love.” One of his hands palmed my breasts and he started to move in earnest, jerking in an out in a rough rhythm. “This is what I crave, what I need. This, sweetheart, is what I prefer.”
He gripped my hips, lifting them so all of the weight was off my knee, and began to work me hard.
I lowered myself to my elbows, reached a hand down and felt for him.
His scrotum was slapping into me with every hard thrust, and I palmed him, cupping, scoring my nails on him lightly. I felt them tighten up when he started to come, and lowered the arm still bearing weight, going facedown into the bed so I could cup him with one hand, and rub my * with the other.
He was still thrusting, deep in the throes, when I caught up to him, eyes rolling back in my head.
In more ways than one, I was done for.