Chapter 21
Daisy
I put my feet in the water and stared ahead as the sun slowly lowered below the massive homes. As soon as you couldn’t see it anymore, the green light across the lake flicked on.
“You are my green light.”
I closed my eyes, his words replaying in my mind.
Someday, Gatsby. Some day.
The urge to write to him was strong this week. Dancing with his former cellmate, paired with Max’s outburst and sudden deadline, I needed to talk to him.
When he was first arrested, the silence was the worst part of it for me. If I’d been allowed to contact him, I would have made it through. I could have been a devoted prison wife. But he’d refused to allow that. And now, it felt like too much time had passed. Was his cellmate telling the truth? Did Gatsby still love me?
I pulled my feet from the water and grabbed my shoes. I needed to talk to the stranger again. He was the next best thing if I couldn’t talk to who I truly wanted. I went back inside, moving through the house quietly, trying not to disturb anyone. Max had gone to the city for business again, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have eyes in the house. I took my car out of the garage and drove to the opera house.
I wasn’t sure if he was here. As I parked, I realized it was absurd to think he was. Of course, he didn’t live here, and it was the middle of the week. I should have texted him before I came. I swore to myself at how silly the idea had been. I stared at the building for a long moment before my phone suddenly pinged.
Unknown: Come in.
I looked up from my phone quickly. How did he know I was here? Had he been tracking my car, or my phone? The possibilities were endless. If a stranger was tracking me, then Max would be for sure. I hesitated, but eventually stepped out of the car and went to the doors, finding them open.
The lights turned on as I moved, just as they had the previous times I’d been here. With each step, I grew braver, more confident, more sure of why I was here.
“Hello? Do I need to wear a blindfold again? I will if you come down,” I called to the open room. I got another text.
Unknown: Go to the dressing rooms.
Following his instructions, I went past the auditorium and headed to the back. I paused as the lights turned on, shining on the shiny new nameplate on the door.
Daisy Lovelace
“What is this?” I asked. I had a feeling he could hear me, no matter where I was in his theater. Slowly, I pushed the unlocked door open. Lights clicked on, and I gasped. Gold and rose pink decorated the walls and furniture. I stepped deeper inside and inhaled. It smelled of him.
He’d been here.
I ran my hands over the gold painted wood of my—the vanity table. I blinked the odd thought away. This wasn’t mine, none of this was mine, although it felt like the room had been pulled directly from my dreams. The soft pink carpet, the art déco wallpaper. It was all so beautiful.
I went to the boudoir and pulled it open, revealing a dozen long, feathery dressing gowns of all colors. I turned and went back to the vanity, opening the drawers. I found expensive makeup, lotions, and perfumes. This didn’t happen overnight. He’d been working on this for a while, I realized, when I found the shoes in my size.
I was crouched on the floor, my vision blurring, when a tear slid down my cheek.
Suddenly, I felt his presence behind me. I sat absolutely still as his hands came around and a blindfold was placed over my eyes.
“Do you like it?” he asked, helping me to my feet.
“I do. How did you know I loved art déco?”
The name hung between us.
Gatsby.
He really had known him. This room confirmed it for me. Only someone who knew Gatsby even a shred of how I knew him would understand and know exactly how to create something for me to win my heart.
I shuddered. Win my heart?
I didn’t even know this man, and I was saying he had my heart?
“Why did you do this?”
“I wanted you to know that if you want it, it’s yours.”
“But this is a permanent dressing room.”
“I know. I want you to have a home here forever. ”
I turned around and found myself wrapped in his arms.
“I don’t understand.” Tears soaked the blindfold. “You hardly know me. I hardly know you. This is too much.”
“It’s not enough, frankly. He wanted this for you. Let me do this.”
I tilted my head up. “Why? Do you owe him a favor? Are you telling him everything about our meetings?”
“If I were, would that change what you say to me?”
I swallowed and let go of him, turning to clutch myself. “These feelings I’m developing for you are the ultimate betrayal. I told him I’d wait, and I want more than anything to hold true to that. I can only ever love him. I’m sorry if I made you think differently.”
“Love and sex are separate things. Surely you know that, being engaged to a man you don’t love.”
I spun my head quickly. “There’s no sex in the relationship I have with Max Stanton,” I snapped, then quickly cupped my hands over my mouth. If that got out, Max would be humiliated, and he’d... Quickly, I backtracked. “Any passion we had has dwindled with the stress of everything.” My face was suddenly warm, and I needed to get out of there.
I reached for the blindfold and, just as I was tearing it off, the lights went out, engulfing us in pitch black. I felt hands on me, tugging me into his arms. As if we simply needed the excuse of darkness to touch one another, our lips collided in a furious frenzy. His hands moved up my arms, finding my jacket and tugging it down. My lust took over, and when his hands dropped to my ass, squeezing them, I wrapped my legs around his middle.
I felt his hardness, and the image he’d sent me of what was underneath his pants sent me spiraling. The piercing was intriguing... would it feel good?
In my mind, I was back with Gatsby in that hotel room. He’d just finished my tattoo, and then he took my virginity. This was what we should have had. Not me and this stranger.
I kissed my Gatsby stand-in with the energy I’d give to the real thing. Our tongues danced in glorious need as he held me tight and began to walk. As if he could see in the dark, he found the chaise lounge and laid me down. He dropped to the floor and lifted my dress, grabbing for my panties.
I was dizzy as I arched my back, giving him easier access to taking off my clothes. He pushed my thighs apart and his tongue ran across my skin.
“Oh!” I gasped.
“Daisy... I need to taste you.” His fingers trailed along my thighs, sending delicious shivers to my core. Arousal pooled in my pussy, pleading for me to relax and let him give me pleasure. I allowed my mind to replace his hands with Gatsby’s. His tongue with Gatsby’s.
“Gatsby once told me you tasted like heaven. I need to experience it as he did.”
Something about the stranger saying his name bolted me from the illusions I’d created. I sat up fast and shoved him away.
“No! We can’t do this. This is wrong!” I stood and felt around. “Where are my underwear, my jacket? I can’t—this is wrong!” I was gasping for air as I felt along the floor for my things.
“What are you talking about? You want this—” he started, but as I found my panties and struggled to shove them on, I interrupted him.
“No, I don’t want this. I don’t want you. I want my Gatsby. Not a stand-in.” I grabbed my jacket and strode blindly to where the door was. I turned the handle and opened it, letting light flood in. For a moment, I froze, debating whether or not to turn back and get a look at the man who’d almost gotten me to betray Gatsby.
I took a deep breath and refrained.
“I have to go.”