Six
Paisley
3 weeks later
Sandie had been away from the office for a while, and I dearly missed her. The young, vibrant girl had been such a nice distraction. Now all I had left was Betsey, the coworker who didn’t like me one bit.
Again, I had no friends to spend time with. I tried to keep in touch with Sandie, but I figured she’d be busy to keep up with me, and eventually, she stopped replying.
Sometimes I saw her Dad in the building, and he was always polite to me. I did wonder whether Sandie had mentioned me to him. Maybe I was just imagining it…
But ever since I’d met his daughter, he felt a little colder towards me, as opposed to before, when he always had a compliment for me.
The only highlight of my week was the fact that my stitches needed to come out. I’d sent Hawkes Rizzo a tentative message about it, and he simply replied he’d meet me in the Japanese ramen place where I’d gone with Sandie before. I wasn’t completely sure how he was going to get them out in a restaurant… I couldn’t exactly take him home, either. Not with Travis always around.
As I sat at a table, nervously toying with my napkin, I finally saw him enter the room.
The reservation was in my name, but I noticed the table was nicer than what we had last time, more private.
As Hawkes sauntered toward me, I felt the now familiar, slightly exciting chill creeping down my spine. My forbidden attraction to this older man was going to put me in an early grave… But as I drank in his tall frame, those curly locks of dark hair and his impenetrable gray gaze, I knew I didn’t have a choice in the matter.
Hawkes sat down in front of me. He fixed his tie. Did he always wear the same one? It was burgundy red, with a paisley print. The chill traveled all the way down the back of my neck, curling my toes.
“I need you to start getting me information,” Hawkes said coolly in the way of a greeting. He looked so good my mouth started watering. “From that little boyfriend of yours. How’s that going, by the way? Still miserable, sugar?”
I touched my hands to my hair, remembering our last meeting. I kept forgetting he’d chopped half my hair off… I had to get it fixed at a stylist, and Travis hated the new cut. He said I didn’t look feminine enough, and now he had nothing to bury his hands in when he fucked me.
I glared at Hawkes. “I know you care so very deeply. Yes, still miserable. Any chance you’ll let me walk away from that soon?”
He smirked, leaning forward. “Any chance you’ve found my daughter?”
My lips pursed, and she sat back without dignifying me with a response. Moments later, he ordered for both of us, shooting me an icy glare when I tried to interrupt.
“I can order for myself, you know,” I muttered grumpily as the waiter left.
“That’s my job.”
His words made my hands shake as I took a sip of water. I didn’t even trust myself to have a glass of wine in Hawkes’ company. I was already losing my mind, brain cell by brain cell slowly giving up in this intimidating, toxic presence.
“You, however,” he carried on. “Haven’t been doing a very good job at your task, have you, Paisley?”
I flushed. “I tried.”
“Not hard enough, it seems.” He took a sip of his wine, toying with the stem. “Why are you not getting me the information I need? I thought it would be easy to manipulate this man. Maybe you don’t want to leave him after all.”
I looked away, and he leaned forward, setting his glass down.
“Is that it, Paisley?” he asked softly. “You love him?”
“No,” I choked out, fighting back a laugh. Of course I didn’t love Travis.
If Hawkes had let me, I would have left him a thousand times already.
But I felt so deeply indebted to him, I swore I’d stay until I found out more about my missing friend - a project that now seemed insurmountable.
“Poor little girl,” Hawkes said thoughtfully and I realized tears were falling down my cheeks. “You want to leave him? Still?”
I nodded brokenly and he sighed,thumbing a teardrop from my cheek. I looked up at him, surprised as he leaned back, tasting my tears from his finger. He smirked.
“Just a little bit longer, Paisley,” he promised sweetly. “I think we’re getting close. I promise I’ll let you go once we find Rubi. I just need a little more time…”
His promises, dark but enticing, felt like music to my ears. I knew I was imagining things… but maybe Hawkes would finally tell me how he felt about me.
I was still unable to forget every one of those stolen firsts in the back alley. How his knife had ripped the fabric of my panties and slid up between my thighs, getting wet from my own arousal…
I shivered, looking away.
The food arrived, and I busied myself by eating. I noticed Hawkes ordered me the same thing I had when I’d been there with Sandie. A coincidence?
Watching each other like enemies waiting for a strike, we ate our food. I realized if it weren’t for the two of us glaring at each other like we wanted to jump down each other’s throats, it would seem like we were on a date.
The restaurant was upscale, modern and fun. We were both dressed up, and we kept looking at each other. I wondered what the other guests thought… I wondered if they thought I was his daughter.
The forbidden thoughts flushed my cheeks, and I cleared my throat while Hawkes smirked, as if he knew exactly what was happening.
He paid for dinner before we got up somehow. I crinkled my brows as he led me through the restaurant and toward a shiny black car. That was when I finally dug my heels into the pavement.
“I don’t get into cars with strangers,” I told him resolutely.
“I’m not a stranger,” Hawkes smiled smoothly. “Don’t you remember me? I’m your worst, sweetest nightmare. Now get in the car, sugar.”
He opened the door for me. I hesitated before finally getting in, and he slammed the door closed after he got in beside me. My heart beat into overdrive as the car took off.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“My hotel, to take your stitches out.”
“Okay,” I muttered uselessly. My hand reached up and I self-consciously touched the stitches on the back of my head. I was scared of Hawkes… Scared of him touching me again and doing something else I didn’t want.
But the unusual sweetness he’d treated me with at the restaurant deceived me enough to walk right into his trap.
Once we got to Hawkes’ hotel, we took a private elevator to the penthouse. His guards, who had trailed us even at the restaurant, didn’t come in with us.
Hawkes sat me down in his luxurious suite where I was terrified of touching anything. It all looked so expensive, luxurious, and most of all, breakable. He carefully worked on the stitches while I nursed a glass of whiskey, taking small sips and wincing when it hurt too much.
I could tell he was trying to be gentle, and when he finished up, he sat down in front of me, looking me straight in the eye.
“Is there anything you’ve found out?” he asked. “Anything at all?”
“Well…” I bit my bottom lip nervously. “Elias. He’s not friends with Travis anymore.”
“Why?” Hawkes barked.
“I… I don’t know. I’ll try to find out more.”
“You will,” he nodded. “But I have another target for you. Someone else who needs to be asked questions.”
“Oh?”
“Your foster mother,” Hawkes smiled.
“Sarah?” I tried to hide my surprise. “What has she got to do with any of this?”
He looked at me sternly. “I tracked the phone number that sent the red herring message. It came from her house.”
The news shocked me so much I swayed on my feet. “You don’t know it’s her, though.”
He scoffed. “Are you suggesting one of the toddlers did it? Get a grip, sugar. It was Sarah. She’s more involved than we think.”
I sat down on the couch and took deep breaths, trying to steady myself. I didn’t expect him to help me, so I was surprised when he knelt next to me and handed me a tissue. I didn’t even realize I was crying.
“You need to help me find Rubi,” he said, as if that wasn’t clear enough. I nodded mutely, realizing I’d never be good enough for Hawkes. All he wanted was his daughter back.
And I was just collateral.
“Of course,” I murmured. “I’ll do anything I can.”
He rose. “Next time I see you, I want you to have some actual information for me, Paisley.”
I straightened my back and nodded.
Neither of us said anything else. I walked out of the building, and one of the guards followed me all the way to the Metro. When I finally got on the train, he blended into the crowd at the station. I felt my stomach drop.
The rest of the week, Travis went to work every day, staying later than usual despite his recent promises he’d spend more time at home. He slept turned away from me, or sometimes on the couch, when he got drunk and passed out. I couldn’t understand how he kept up his work doing this. I would have been a wreck.
I often laughed at the thought I wasn’t a man, so I couldn’t possibly understand.
My career was something I worked hard for. I worked as a PR manager for a luxury beauty firm. My main client at the time was a niche perfume company, the epitome of French luxury.
The founder, Georges, lived a secluded life in Paris, but I led the operation from New York, making sure he could keep his life private while I marketed his perfumes to worldwide recognition and acclaim. I’d never met him.
My career was also something Travis and I argued about frequently.
I loved my work, and I worked hard, which meant I didn’t have a lot of free time. It wasn’t unusual for me to travel for work either, or spend late nights in the city before returning to our shared apartment.
I worked until ten p.m. that night, organizing the final bottle designs for Georges’ newest offering. We ran into an issue with our glass supplier, which delayed everything by weeks.
I hated being late, and my mood soured as I returned home.
Travis was sprawled on the couch, drunk and sitting in a mess of his own making.
Suppressing a groan, I considered the alternative - him going out every night, potentially cheating on me - again - until our relationship finally crumbled.
I often wondered whether the alternative would be better.
“Evening,” I called out over the voice of his shooter game. “Your mother called me earlier.”
Barbra McCormack had reminded me of a sale at a luxury store only a few blocks from us. I still wasn’t sure if she did it out of bitter hatred for me, because she knew well enough I couldn’t afford to shop there, even with the sale prices.
“I heard,” he muttered, barely audible over the game. “She dropped by.”
I took my shoes off. “Oh, how nice.”
He didn’t comment as I took off my trenchcoat and came into the kitchen. I glanced at the stove top, opening a leftover pot and wincing. Bolognese.
Already mixed in with the spaghetti, with Parmesan crumbled on top. Clearly, Barbra’s thoughtful gift for her precious son.
She ensured I wouldn’t eat this, since I was vegetarian.
I shivered when I remembered the occasion that made me stop eating meat forever. Another example of a lovely evening with Travis’ parents.
I would consider it just another little blow from my overbearing potential future mother in law, but to be fair to her, I doubted she remembered anything about me except that I wasn’t good enough for her son.
Travis’ parents showed zero interest in me, but at least Mrs McCormack stopped actively trying to destroy me.
I groaned, putting the lid back on the pot.
My stomach rumbled in protest.
I started making myself a salad, and as I chopped the veggies, I wondered what the last time was that Travis greeted me with some enthusiasm. He hadn’t even gotten up when I got home. In fact, his eyes barely left the TV screen, except when he asked me for a beer from the fridge.
One thing we were always stocked up on somehow, even though I never bought any.
I handed it over, and he slapped my ass as I walked away.
Well, at least there was that.
He still wanted me, even though I could barely bring myself to look in the mirror after he fucked me .
Not always… but more often than not.
My fingers touched the back of my head. I’d gotten the stitches out, and the cut was healing nicely.
I still didn’t know why I never told Travis about that man who barged into the apartment on my birthday, though. I knew I was a coward.
Just like the cheating, I’d never even mentioned it.
The stranger hadn’t reappeared, thank goodness. One small relief.
“I’m going out in a bit,” Travis said from the couch, downing his beer. “Meeting some friends for a couple games of poker.”
“Alright,” I said, glancing at the microwave clock. It was almost eleven p.m., and my stomach twisted when I thought of my earlier concerns. “You want me to come with you?”
“Nah, babe,” he smirked. “Guys night. You’d get in the way. I’ll give you what you want later, when I come home.”
He winked at me, and I knew exactly what this meant. He’d grope me when I was asleep, and slip inside me when I was still too fuzzy-headed to protest. Another hard look in the mirror awaited me.
“Well, have fun,” I said, my tone a little too clipped. “See you tomorrow. I’m leaving early, by the way.”
His eyes finally snapped to mine. “Trying to run away from me?”
I shook my head. “Got to work overtime this month. We’re late on a glass shipment we’re using for the perfume bottle.”
“Working late. Again ?” he groaned, kissing my cheek as he made his way out the door.
I nodded, feeling uncomfortable.
Thank goodness for that delay at work.
At least I had something to blame my absence on.