Joe didn't even try to convince me to see him again. My mind boiled with fantasies of tossing huge, thorny bouquets in his face - but I never got the chance.
Every time I tried to talk to Sean about what Joe had done, he remembered a meeting he was late for or a call he had to make.
I knew his defection was Joe's doing. He was rubbing my nose in it, demonstrating in no uncertain terms the power he exerted over the man who - in his absence -had become my best friend.
The betrayal hurt so badly I spent days on the verge of tears. How can he do this, I'd ask myself, barely knowing whether 'he' was Sean or Joe. How can he be so cruel?
The fact that I was looking for an explanation bothered me. Part of me believed there must be a reason. Part of me remembered the longing in Joe's face when he kissed my palm, and that part believed - even in the teeth of the evidence - that Joe still loved me.
I fought a primitive urge to call my mother and cry on her shoulder. With her middle-class, homemaker's propriety, she'd be the last person to understand. She hadn't forgiven me yet for divorcing Tom.
On Friday I claimed boss's privilege and left half an hour early. I strode down Front Street
towards Society Hill, dodging skateboarders and grimacing at the couples taking in the balmy river view.
Ice cream, I thought. I'd sweat for an hour on the stairclimber, then drown my troubles in a big, fattening dish of double-chocolate chip, and maybe I'd have a glass of wine on top of that!
I stomped two streets farther before I noticed the limousine crawling behind me. As soon as I did, I knew who sat behind the tinted glass. The big black car stopped when I did. Folding my arms beneath my breasts, I faced my reflection.
The window rolled down like butter.
'Get in,' said Joe.
'Go to hell,' said I.
He opened the door and stepped out, his length unfolding with the grace of a ballroom dancer. He buttoned his stylish Armani jacket and smoothed it straight. In my head, I damned him for looking so temptingly prosperous.
'Get in,' he said, gesturing me ahead of him. 'I can see you want to give me a piece of your mind. In there is the only place I'm prepared to listen.'
As incentives went, it was pretty thin. Even so, I couldn't bring myself to turn away. 'I don't trust you,' I said.
The skin around his eyes tightened. The response could have signalled anger or hurt. The stupid part of me chose hurt. 'Please,’ he said more humbly. 'Don't you want to know why I behaved the way I did?'
I did want to know why. The stupid part of me thought he might tell me. I climbed inside the plush grey cave. Joe slid in beside me. The automatic locks shot home as soon as he closed the door. The sound startled, but Joe distracted me by taking my hands in his and gazing into my eyes. His mood seemed very serious, like a doctor about to break some bad news.
'I'm sorry to have to do this,' he said.
'Do what?' I asked at the very moment a pair of intricate velvet cuffs slid over my wrists. They tightened almost before I registered what they were.
He covered my eyes next, then bound my ankles together. I didn't fight any of it. He was stronger than I was, and I feared he'd enjoy subduing me too much.
Let's see if he likes this game when only one person plays, I thought. I vowed he'd get no response from me: not anger and not fear.
But those weren't the responses he really wanted -just the ones I could control.
Chapter Fourteen
Mind, Body and Soul
After a fifteen-minute drive, the limo stopped. Joe scooped me up and hustled me from the car to a lift, a freight lift by the sound of it. Since I was blindfolded, my ears were all I could go by. Once inside, he set me on my bound feet, steadying me when I would have teetered.
He said nothing, but I heard him breathing - deep, deliberate breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth, like an athlete preparing for a race.
A strange calm settled over me, as though I weren't really involved in this drama. So be it, I thought. If Joe wants to alienate me for good, so be it. At least I'll stop pining for him.
But those thoughts flowed like ripples on the surface of a river. Other feelings ran beneath them, too murky to acknowledge. Despite my outward passivity, my skin tingled with energy and I hovered on the verge of arousal. My womb was heavy, my awareness of every sensation keen. It's the blindfold, I told myself. But I knew it wasn't.
As the lift rose, Joe wrapped a wide velvet collar around my neck. I brought my arms up - wrists together, of course - to touch it. A long leash led off from its front.
'Honestly,’ I huffed. 'You couldn't come up with something more original?'