“You? Unpacked?” I tease. “I’m impressed.”
“So little faith in me,” he responds with laughter and then dips his head to kiss me. “By the way, Cal made a call to my office while I was gone. Seems he heard about the refitting in Dubai and is curious about investment options.”
“Oh,” I remark, wondering if Declan knows his father is interested in investing with Bennett’s company.
“He wants a meeting, but isn’t able to get out of New York because of his tight schedule, so I’m going to fly out there for a few days. I want you to come with me.”
“Of course. When would that be?”
“In a couple of weeks. I have to run back down to Miami for a few days beforehand.”
“Miami?” I question, letting him see my frustration. “I didn’t see that on your schedule.”
“The realtor called while you were shopping. We finally came to negotiations on the property sale.”
“Finally.”
Bennett has a number of properties, a beachfront in Miami being one of them. He’s had it for years, but since I’ve known him, he’s never used it. Although he travels there for business, he stays in hotels since the house is out of the way.
“So . . . New York?”
Smiling, I respond, “Sounds perfect. Hopefully it’s not all business; I’d like to be able to have some time with just you.”
“I’ll make sure of it, but for now, I’ve made reservations for dinner tonight.”
“I better go get cleaned up then. I think I’ll go soak in a hot bath for a while.”
“Want company?” he asks in a smooth tone, and I nod before kissing his jaw.
We spend the rest of the day together, and after an extravagant meal, we head home and it isn’t long before Bennett crashes from not only the rich food, but the time change as well. I lie there in bed next to him and simply stare. I faintly remember him as a child. His face is clear to me only because I’ve seen plenty of his childhood pictures at his parents’ house.
He sleeps peacefully as I recall playing with him in my backyard. I don’t remember much, but he used to push me on my swing set. I would tell him to push me higher, push me into the clouds, and he would give me a giant push and then run under the swing as I went up. One time he didn’t make it, and I came crashing down on him. He said it didn’t hurt him, but I could tell that it did.
We were never good friends, just neighbors who would sometimes play together if we were both outside at the same time. He was older and already in elementary school. Soon after I started kindergarten, I was taken away and never saw him again. That was until Pike found him several years ago. When I saw him again, he had just turned thirty. Nothing about him looked the same to me, not until his mother showed me some old photo albums. That’s when I started remembering more of our time together as young kids.
And now I lie here, thinking about the part he played in the nightmare that became my life and the hate begins to fester. I want to kill him. But more than that, I want to make him suffer. I want to yell and scream, tell him who I really am. Tell him how he ruined my life, and how because of him, my father is now dead. I want him to know the destruction he caused for opening his foolish mouth. It takes a lot of effort not to clench my fist right now and beat the living fuck out of his face.
Suddenly, a muted glow casts along the ceiling and I turn my head to see there’s a notification on my cell phone. Rolling over, I look to see Declan has sent me a text. I grab the phone and quietly slip out of bed to make my way to the other side of the apartment and into the office before reading his text.
Miss you.
I sit down at the desk and type back.
Same here.
Are you okay? I can’t stop worrying about you. I fucking hate it.
I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.
Don’t ever tell me not to worry.
When I notice it’s after two in the morning, I respond.
Why are you up so late?
I told you. I can’t stop thinking about you and if you’re okay. I got used to having you in my bed and now all I can picture is you lying next to him.
I don’t know what to say. What do you want me to say?
That you feel what I feel.
I do.
Tell me.
I _____ you.
What does that mean?
There’s not a single word I can think of that could properly describe how I feel about you, but I feel it and it’s powerful.
So you _____ me, huh?
Yeah.
I _____ you too. I want to see you. Tomorrow.
Okay. I can get away during the day.
Come to 31st Street Harbor. Dock-K. Slip-47.
You have a boat?
Yes. What time can you be there?
10am.
10am. Don’t be late.
I shake my head at his need for control and grin as I message him back.
Trust me, I won’t. My ass and * are both still mad at you.
Ass, maybe, but there is no way your * could still be mad with the number of orgasms I have given it since.
You think so?