Chapter 29
Daisy
Gatsby spun me around and our wet, soapy bodies collided against each other. I arched my hips upward toward his hardness. He chuckled.
“Not here. Let’s finish and get dried off so we can fully enjoy each other.” He kissed my neck, and I closed my eyes, my entire body clenching. Just moments ago, his tongue had been... good.
We washed the soap off and stepped out of the swan bath. With towels still around our bodies, he took me to his bedroom suite.
“Let me go brush my teeth.” He laughed, and as I waited for him to return, I looked around. Even his bedroom was impressive. Green was the staple throughout his entire estate, and his private quarters were no different. His walls and sheets were the same deep emerald color.
Gatsby Green.
He returned, his towel clinging to his beautiful body, and as he was coming to the bed, a phone rang from somewhere in the other room. He excused himself.
I tried to listen but couldn’t hear clear words, just his quickly growing irritation. Soon, he came back with a pained look on his face.
“Neal came by. You left your phone at their place. Someone is looking for you.” His voice curdled.
“Who? Oh...” Suddenly, tiredness hit me with such force I sighed. I realized then that we’d stayed up all night talking.
“Who do you think?” He snickered. “You should probably get dressed. Don’t want to worry anyone.”
I sighed. “Gatsby...”
“It’s fine. Maybe you should give him a call? Tell your beloved you’re alright.”
I took note of the tone in his voice as he turned away and went to his closet, opening the door and stepping inside. He hadn’t sounded bitter or angry. He was... sad.
I put my arms around him from behind.
“You’re my beloved. Not him.” I kissed his tight muscular back. “But I do think maybe I should check in.” I stopped myself from implying that Max could be worried about me. On the one hand, I’d almost drowned just two nights before. To have me missing all night would be concerning to someone who cared. However, Max wasn’t that person. Max didn’t love me. He just liked to look at me, and have his friends look at me.
I left Gatsby to get dressed and went to the bathroom, where my dirty, damp dress and underwear lay on the floor.
“Don’t touch those.”
I turned back as he reached for my hand and led me back to his closet. Off to the left was another door I hadn’t caught before. He pushed it open and urged me inside. I gasped as I stepped in.
“Gatsby...” The room looked like an extension of my dressing room at the Theater. Pinks and golds filled the room. I inhaled deeply, as it smelled of sweet pea. This was heaven. He nudged me to go further inside, and as I did, I found a fully stocked closet.
“How did you know my sizes?” I asked, picking up a pair of heels that were, in fact, my correct size.
“Money can get me a lot of things, including information that others don’t have access to.”
I took to the racks and found beautiful expensive dresses, all similar to ones I had at home.
Home.
It wasn’t my home; it was my cage.
This could be my home, some day.
“Pick something, and I’ll take you back to Neal’s,” he said, his tone somber.
I grabbed a dress and found a drawer with both bras and panties and quickly changed, going back to his closet just as he was tying his tie and slipping on his suit jacket.
“I never pegged you for a man who wears suits.” I smiled.
“No? Why not?”
“Well, you wanted to be an artist.”
“I still do.” We exited his quarters, hand in hand. “In prison, I practiced on myself and a few others who let me get close enough. After I got out I had to take a break to deal with all of this.” He waved his arm out to show the house. “Once I have you back fully in my life, I plan on focusing on my career as a tattooist. All in good time.”
We walked to Neal’s and from there I sat on their couch and, with my stomach in knots, called Max from my cell phone.
“Hi, I didn’t mean to worry you. Between the rain and catching up, I just lost track of time.” I glanced at Gatsby and then at Neal. It wasn’t a lie completely. I had lost track of time catching up. I sighed happily and then returned to the phone call .
“Yes, well, after your accident just the night before, it’s kind of callous to not call and let the man you’re going to marry soon know you’re safe.”
“Yes, I know, I’m sorry, Max.” With how he put it, guilt seeped into my belly. On paper, his words were correct. However...
My phone pinged in my ear, telling me I had a text message. I pulled away to see Madame De La Rosa’s name on my screen. I clicked it and scanned the text. My eyes shot over to Gatsby, who had his phone in his hand. My mouth fell open in shock as he looked up sheepishly and grinned.
“What?” he said low.
I blinked.
“Daisy, are you listening to me?” Max said over the phone. I shook my head and looked away from Gatsby.
“Yes. Yes, of course. You want me home?”
“At some point you should, don’t you think?” he snarled.
“Yes, but actually…” I paused to read another text message that had come through. “We got the deal. The owner is going to let us perform at the Tennant. Madame said we’ve been invited to do a tour this afternoon. I think I should go.”
“A tour? I’ll go with.”
I stiffened. “What? I don’t?—”
“Nonsense. I want to meet the owner, you know that. This is the perfect opportunity. Come home, and we’ll drive together.”
The call ended, and I looked across the room. Neal had conveniently disappeared, leaving me alone with Gatsby, who was staring out the front window, looking pensive.
“I—”
“I heard. Go.” He turned back to me and forced a smile.
“You know I don’t want to. ”
“Do I?” Again, the words weren’t sharp or nasty. It was more of an inward look at his own thoughts than an attack on me.
“Yes.” I went to him, spinning him around. Tightly, I squeezed his upper arms. “You do. Gatsby, I’ve only ever wanted a life with you. I only ever agreed to marry him because you weren’t an option.”
I never told him to stay in that house and get arrested for me. In fact, I’d begged him to run. He was the reason all of this time had been lost between us.
“Right.” He smiled and then looked behind me. “Let’s get you home.”
I hated to say goodbye, even for a short time. As Neal drove me back to the other side of the lake, I stared through the passenger’s side mirror at my Gatsby, watching him grow smaller and smaller.
“I had no idea,” Neal said, trying to make small talk. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have let you talk me into going to party with Max that night. He’s such an asshole. Never again.”
I drowned out their complaints with my melancholy thoughts. My heart felt like it was being pulled like taffy. I was going to be sick. I pressed my forehead to the window and tried to come to grips with returning to the place I’d called home for the last few years.
It never truly was though.
Max was outside waiting for us. We got in his car as soon as I was out of Neal’s and sped toward the Theater.
“I don’t know how you pulled it off, but I’m proud of you, Daisy.” Max rested his hand on my thigh, and I nearly leaped out of my skin. He chuckled and patted my lap. “I am curious to see how the renovations are going.”
I pressed my lips together and tried not to have a complete meltdown. He wouldn’t understand. He would lose it. He’d hit me.
When we arrived, there were a dozen or so cars parked in the back. I recognized Madame’s, along with a few of the other dancers’ vehicles. Max put his arm on my lower back and we went in through the front doors.
Voices could be heard from deeper inside the Theater. From the sound of it, they were in the auditorium. My heart began to beat wildly, and my fingers clawed at my palms. Was he here yet? What would Gatsby do when he saw Max?
Max caught me at the entrance and made me stop. He pinched my chin and made me look at him.
“Hey, you okay? Is this about her?”
I blinked. It took me a moment to realize he was talking about Skye. I’d forgotten about her completely.
“Look, you don’t have anything to worry about. She is nothing compared to you. You know what they say in circles like ours?”
“What?”
He leaned in and planted a kiss on my forehead.
“A rich man never leaves his wife for his mistress. Come on, let’s go and be professional, okay? You can do that, can’t you?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, he pushed me into the auditorium, causing the group below receiving a tour by Gatsby, my Gatsby, to look up at us.
“Hello,” Gatsby greeted us, as if we were strangers. “You must be our last straggler. Join us.”
Max beamed as he hurried down. He went straight to Gatsby and introduced himself.
“Max Stanton, entrepreneur. This is my fiancée, Daisy Lovelace, which you already know?” Max looked from me to Gatsby.
“Yes, of course. Welcome, both of you. We were just on our way to the dressing rooms. Would you dancers like to see where you’ll be dressing? The rooms are quite nice.”
My fellow dancers buzzed with excitement. Then, for a split second, I made eye contact with Gatsby, and he smirked. A moment later, it hit me why. Max was going to find out that I had a private changing room, and he would want to know why.