Chemistry: The Chemist

Chapter 5

The ceiling fan whirled above me as I lay flat on the bed with my nose toward the sky. Misery had crept into my bones and made itself home. Not even my mother or Art could rescue me from the funk I was in. They’d both tried. There was only one solution.

Him.

It was day nine of punishment and I was praying I still had a piece of my sanity by the time midnight rolled around. I had four hours before my fate was revealed and I was counting down the minutes. Because I had work in a few, I knew lying around sulking wasn’t possible, but I’d lay as long as I could while technology failed us all.

The flowers that never died were on my kitchen counter. Gifts, several he’d funded, had filled the living room. Deliveries showed up at my door daily. Each time there was a knock, I was hoping to find him behind it.

A new cellphone, one that had only one number stored and a photo of me wrapped in his sheets for a wallpaper, made the perfect, useless accessory for my nightstand. I’d called Chem nearly ten times in less than ten days, still, I hadn’t heard his voice or seen his face.

Parts of me had regretted the second I accepted Tre’s invitation to the bar a few blocks away. We’d crossed paths in the lobby a few times. His smile was radiating. His conversation was interesting. My center was aching. His invitation couldn’t have come at a better time.

This wasn’t a ploy to summon Chem, but when the opportunity presented itself, I didn’t let it slip away. Because, without a doubt, I knew he’d come. I knew he’d appear. And I wasn’t wrong. The results weren’t in my favor, but they were results, nonetheless.

“Johanson! Can you hear me?” Bradford yelled into the com, nearly deafening me.

“God.” I gasped. “Yes. Loud and clear. Can we turn it down?”

I sat up in bed, ready to snatch the tiny bulb from my ear. It wasn’t visible to the naked eye and I was hoping it didn’t get lost in my ear canal. The device was small in stature but packed a punch. It felt like my partner was right beside me, screaming his head off.

“Turn it down, Rodgers,” Jack told our tech guy.

“Sorry, Johanson,” Rodgers apologized.

The volume was much better.

“It’s fine.”

“Get to your desk, Johanson. Let’s brief before you get out of the door. We need to make sure we’ve covered everything.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Though I’d much rather ball up underneath my covers, I rolled out of bed and made my way to the computer. Dread sank in as I looked down at the mouse pad I’d yet to switch out.

“Have you checked your mail?” Bradford asked on cue.

A quick scan over my living room reminded me mail had been delivered to my door all week. The service the building offered was a godsend.

“Yes.”

“Good, I sent you something. It’s in a black box. The sender name should be scrambled.”

Discretion was detrimental. We weren’t dealing with the average criminals. We were trying to infiltrate a criminal empire that was air-tight, sophisticated, and had eluded our radar for years. Hadn’t a string of events begun to connect and a lone witness gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar, we wouldn’t know they existed.

I searched through the boxes, locating one of the two black ones. The letters on the shipping label had me squinting, trying to figure out what they said. To understand that, I had to unscramble them. I grabbed a pen on my way to my desk and began scribbling on the desk pad.

The– I managed to get the first word.

Grey– the second came and the third was a no-brainer.

List.

“Really clever, Bradford.” I chuckled, opening the box.

To my surprise, I removed a much-needed piece of foam that fit right in the corner where my mouse rested day and night. The tan mouse pad had the same words, scrambled about, written across the bottom.

“Thanks, that would be great. Tired of hearing you bang that mouse on whatever surface near.”

“Can we get down to business here?” Macy sighed into the phone.

“This is business,” I responded. “I’m logging on, Jack.”

“Good. Good. Bradford, give us a quick overview.”

Three faces appeared in three different squares on the screen. I was the fourth. The volume was muted because we were still testing the dependability of the com since there wouldn’t be a unit near to cover the audio. The new technology supposedly needed no assistance and could transmit a signal for miles and miles, resulting in clear, concise audio.

“We’re all familiar with the case numbers in front of us. Beside each is the occupation because names aren’t information we’re privy to, yet. We’re hoping to break ground tonight inside of this meeting.

“Up until now, we’ve discovered very, very little. We’re working with breadcrumbs here, people. That’s why this meeting is so important. We’ve profiled each and every member of this elite, very intelligent group of people. Johanson, this is new information to you, but here’s what the profiler has finalized.”

I straightened my posture, excited to hear the new leads in the case. It wasn’t often we had any, so this development was much-needed encouragement and a step in the right direction.

“The Chemist –our number one subject. The initial target. The big guy. With him in our custody, the rest of this empire will crumble. Nothing moves unless he moves it. We’re certain of it. According to his profile, he is arrogant. Calculated. He lacks remorse and empathy. He is someone who has impeccable schooling.

“A scholar. He’s possibly the head of a major pharmaceutical company, fucking drug administration board member, or something. The bottom line is, that he’s into drugs. The science of it all. He’s a fucking genius,” Brad explained, completely enamored.

“Can we move forward?” Macy asked, seeing his eyes blossom as he discussed a man we were all fascinated with.

“He’s a ghost. According to his profile, he’s hidden in plain sight. He’s someone we’d walk past and never suspect committed a crime his entire life. Keep an eye out for him!”

“Noted.”

“Next is possibly his right-hand man. The person who does all the dirty work. He doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty. The Hunter. He is as deadly as he sounds. More than likely very quiet. Says less. Acts more. He’s readily available whenever his boss needs him. No one is off-limits. Not even us, so please be careful.

“Find the quietest in the room and it will likely be him. He’s connected to this killing, we’re certain.” Bradford pointed at the crime scene of a murder we’d yet to solve, mainly because the suspect was on the list with seven others we were trying to get our hands on.

“Bradford, I need to be out of here in ten minutes or less.”

“Right. Right. Speeding this up. The therapist. No therapist at all. Actually, a fucking nightmare. You never want to see him. His tactics are far worse than we’ve seen in the military, foreign countries– anywhere.

“By any means, he will extract information from you. You’ll find he is most likely a very caring being. Possibly an actual therapist in his daily life. He’s inquisitive. It’s in his nature. One to ask questions. Expound on theories. Work your brain before you even know he’s working your brain. This man is a fucking weapon.”

He shook his head. “Please, steer clear of this one. We do not need him picking any part of your brain. If so, we’re all toast.”

“Got it.”

“The Handler. Profile says he’s resourceful, very. Can handle anything you put in front of him. Very good at cleaning messes, along with the next one on the list. The Cleaner. Likely in the legal realm. A paralegal. Lawyer. Something. He cleans the legal messes.

“If we could find someone under their wing who has had legal trouble, I know we can find him. We’re just not sure if it’s one person or an entire fucking team of cleaners. The workload must be massive.”

“I doubt it. They are wise. Very. I doubt they get into much trouble,” I reminded him.

“Didn’t think of that. You’re right.”

“The Madam, we’ve learned is a woman. Her sophistication will likely be the red flag. She’s a woman of class, one that’s not easily impressed. According to her profile, she’s a take-charge woman. She has demands and expects them to be met.

“She gets her way. She’s outgoing. Charming. Likeable, but deadly if crossed. The women she employs are loyal because she is good to them. Generous. And has the potential to change their lives at the snap of a finger.”

“I concur.” I nodded. They were blindly loyal. I’d never seen anything like it. It wasn’t a cult, but it felt like it at times. The way they cherished their leader and protected her at all costs.

“We fall flat there.” Bradford pointed to the last of the list.

“We’re aware there are at least two others involved, possibly four. But, we have nothing. Absolutely nothing on either of them.”

The —

The —

The final names on the list were blank, but we were holding space for them because we knew they existed. With time, we’d have them pinned on the board alongside their occupation, too.

“After tonight, we might have answers. Don’t worry, team.”

“We have faith in you, Johanson. We’ll stay out of your ear so you can pay attention. We’re here to listen.” Jack concluded.

“I need to get out of here. Debrief tomorrow?”

“Yes. See you tomorrow,” Bradford confirmed before logging off.

I did the same. Attire was provided, so I stepped out of the door dressed in a black co-ord set that would be perfect in the gym. I made a mental note to revisit it before I made use of the state-of-the-art equipment downstairs on the amenities floor.

It was Ego Ella May who led me straight to Roulette where I parked in the designated area for the women who made the place the success it was. I’d spent three weeks within the upscale exotic establishment and it lived up to every bit of the hysteria of the city. It wasn’t the average strip club. Nothing about it was average.

The architect. The women. The tailored audience. The ambiance. The furnishings. The structure. The talent. The rules. The staff. Absolutely nothing was average. It was a fantasy. From the second you crossed the threshold, you could feel the shift and it was a significant one. It felt like you walked right into a dream. For most, they did.

The women were all exotic, ranging in many shades of black. From the darkest to the lightest, you’d find everyone was unique. Unrealistically intriguing features made you wonder if you were in a real place. High cheekbones, thick eyebrows, massive lips, long noses, round bottoms, perfect toes, breasts of all kinds, and bodies that were sickening as a collective roamed the facility daily.

I hope.

I hope.

I hope.

I want this love to last forever and ever.

Do you?

Do you?

With my eyes closed, I listened to Ego Ella May confront her feelings for her lover. In twenty minutes, I’d be completely transformed into a more confident, more radiating version of myself. But, for now, I allowed the effects of Chem’s absence to dwell in my spirit.

Just as the song ended and another began, my phone rang. Because the song never stopped running, I realized it wasn’t my main line. The phone that was ringing was the one I stared at for hours on end, hoping for a returned call.

My eyes popped open and I immediately started digging through my bag in search of the vibrating device. Its tone led me straight to it. I slid my finger across the screen, frantic and praying I caught it before it stopped ringing.

With the coolness pressed against my ear, I released a stream of air. Involuntarily, my eyes closed, again. I waited, soundlessly, to regain my composure before speaking. There was no question about who was on the other end. I could feel Chem dominate my existence without even a word being spoken. And when he finally spoke, my emotions toppled over.

“Hello, Eden.”

“I’ve missed you,” I rushed out, breathlessly.

He consumed me.

“You’re not alone.”

Hearing his voice on the other end for the first time soothed every ache I had. Things began to make sense, again. The gloom that was cast over me lifted. The sun began to shine, again, though it was pitch black outside.

“I’d like to see you,” I admitted, drawing circles on my thigh, nervously waiting for him to respond. Silence followed my declaration. And when he was ready, he responded.

“I’ve hated myself every day for the last nine days.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

“Ch–” I paused.

“Yes, Choc.”

“I want to see y–”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, Eden. You never had to tell me twice. I heard you the first time. I felt you even before then.”

A smile tugged at my lips as I nodded. The sound of knuckles on the window startled me. I looked up to find Rachel, one of the sweetest girls I’d ever encountered knocking. I rolled the window down a bit to hear whatever she was saying.

“We have less than twenty minutes to pull ourselves together. Come on in, babes.”

“Yes. Of course. I’m on my way inside.”

“Okay. See you in there.”

When I resealed the window, silence coated the line.

“Hello?”

Defeat slumped my shoulders and curved my spine. He’d ended the call. The yearning plagued me for nine days straight and four days before that returned.

Fuck. I contemplated dialing him back but decided against it. I had a long night ahead of me. My team was counting on me. Sitting in the parking lot in my feelings would not help us solve the case we’d been working tirelessly to end.

“Hello. It’s me–” Bradford teased.

“Cut it out, Bradford. Stay out of her personal shit,” Jack demanded.

“Please!” I added.

With my nose piercing the air, I strutted through the parking lot, reaching the door in only a few seconds. When I approached the dressing room, I was rushed into makeup and wardrobe. An artist lightly polished my face for fifteen minutes. The final five, I was given a two-piece and a full-body suit I was to choose between. Because I loved the way the bodysuit hugged me, I settled with it.

“I love it. I’m not as half decent,” Rachel complimented as we both made our way into the dressing room.

The room was brimming with good energy, sex, and determination. The depths the girls were willing to go to please customers that didn’t etch away at their character, value, or principles were almost as admirable as it was concerning. They were born caretakers, even if it wasn’t the medical or childcare field they specialized in. The people they took good care of were men, very wealthy men who simply wanted part of the fantasy created effortlessly at Roulette.

“You look beautiful, Rach.”

She was dreamy in the two-piece with earrings that dangled on her shoulders and rhinestones glued in the small inner corner of her eyes. More were in a scattered pattern from her temple to her cheeks. Loads of blush made her appear bashful, slightly younger, and perky.

“Thanks, Giselle.”

Pet names. Names that didn’t make much sense. Unique names. They weren’t allowed in Roulette. We were given a simple alias if we couldn’t supply one of our own. The goal was to be memorable, even by name.

Rachel. Giselle. Brandy. Ash. Lola. Irish. Jamie. Valerie. Simple names that wouldn’t easily slip the elderly clients’ minds and didn’t sound like something out of a wildlife magazine. It made the task enjoyable and not as difficult as I’d imagined. In some life, Giselle fits the persona. Fit the description of the woman I was when I entered through the back door. Fit my own personal fantasy.

I prepared to exit the dressing room. We’d been instructed to meet in the Red Room where we’d be given details about the expectations, rules, and specifics for our guests. Tardiness wasn’t accepted, so I began to make my way down the hallway before the others.

“Jack,” I whispered. “You guys there?”

“Yes. We’re here, Johanson.”

“Good.”

I made my way down the never-ending hallway. My heels slapped against the tiled floor. I could feel as I shed my skin, transforming into Giselle with every step I made. And just before I turned the corner to enter the Red Room, my body was snatched in the opposite direction, behind a long black curtain, and down a separate hallway. One I didn’t know existed.

And then, finally, after making it only a few feet down the extensive hall, I was pushed against the wall. Long hands roamed my body. Familiar lips pressed into mine. Labored breathing stole oxygen right from my lungs.

My eyes lowered with lust, with desire, until they closed completely, submitting to my fate. It was a beautiful one, just like the man responsible.

Our tongues danced as his hands caressed every inch of me within reach. I melted in his embrace. My fingers curled around his shirt, hanging on as if he’d disappear.

He felt surreal. So did the moment. I wanted a do-over. And over. And over. And over. I could have him six-hundred-thousand times and it still wouldn’t be enough. I could overdose on him and die happily.

Sultriness streaked his words, lessening mine. He whispered in my right ear, reminding me I had a device in my left.

“I don’t want to end anyone’s life tonight, Choc. But, if you go in there, you’ll leave me without a choice. I’m hungry and my dick is hard. Come with me. No fussing. No fighting.”

He stepped back, taking me in and fucking me with his gaze. My center pulsated. My body burned. And as he completed his statement with words that matched my desperation, I died a hundred times. To know he felt it too stripped me of life and then reimbursed me almost immediately.

“I miss you bad.”

I can’t fuss.

I can’t fight.

Not tonight, Chem.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need.

In the skin of his I loved so much is where I wanted to be. And although my team needed me, I knew he needed me more. The thirst in his voice said so. The longing in his touch said so. The look in his eyes said so.

“I have to work,” I whispered back. “Please don’t make me choose.”

“The choice has already been made.”

He knew it and so did I. He was undeniable. I was undeniable. The choice had made itself, almost.

“Ch–”

“Eden.”

With his brows raised, he pressed two fingers against my center. I shuddered, knowing I didn’t stand a chance against him. He’d discovered my seething garden. I needed a hose down. I needed watering. I needed hydration. And he had the tools to replenish me.

“Please,” I mouthed, aware people were listening on the other end and could hear everything I was saying.

A shake of his head finalized the decision he’d made and magnified the choice I’d made. He pulled me in the opposite direction from the one I was headed in and into a private suite. Waiting for me was a beautiful cream two-piece. The top was a collared shirt that had gold buttons down the middle. The pants matched in color and style.

“Get dressed, Choc.”

Chem laid a chilly piece of jewelry in my hand before stepping off and sitting in the red chair against the wall. I uncurled my fingers to find a Van Cleef bracelet in my palm. It was beautiful and paired well with the clothes waiting for me.

In seconds, I was out of the bodysuit and in the two-piece. It fits me perfectly. How he’d guessed my size so perfectly, twice, was a mystery, but so was he. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact I was putting my career and the case on the line to accompany him at dinner, but the distance between us made it impossible to deny myself the opportunity.

Because his eyes hadn’t left me, I hadn’t been able to remove the communication device from my ear or disable it. When the chance came, I’d do so. The last thing I wanted was Chem in the line of fire. I never knew what to expect from him, but I didn’t want my team to get wind of his existence or the lengths he was willing to go to protect whatever we were trying to build.

The trouble I had getting the bracelet on my wrist lifted him from his seat. He fastened it almost instantly and then grabbed me by the hand. He led me out of the door and into the parking lot where his car was waiting.

Something deep down inside of me made it clear that I’d walked out of Roulette for the very last time. How I’d convey that message to my team, I didn’t know. But, I doubted Chem would allow the building to stand if I ever re-entered.

The speakers drowned out the com, managing to keep me content during the ride to our destination. The lights danced across Chem’s skin, making it glow every other second. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him.

Every time he was in my presence, he was like a dream. Looked like a dream. Felt like a dream. Smelled like a dream. Walked like a dream. Talked like a fucking dream.

The distance between us made my heart ache. Slowly, I slid my hand across the armrest, invading his personal space. When close enough, I took his hand into mine, linking our fingers. His collapsed around mine before pulling them toward his lips where he kissed them tenderly. Each and every one of them, without haste.

Pinky.

Ring.

Middle.

Index.

And thumb.

Every time his lips touched my skin, I watched parts of his shed. He was revealing the man I knew was inside of him somewhere, one that had been afraid to show himself prior. His comfortability had grown in his absence. I was grateful.

He never let me go during the eighteen-minute ride. It wasn’t until we were in front of Charred that we separated. He exited the car with a valet attendant waiting outside for him.

“Good evening, sir,” happily, the guy greeted, eager to make conversation with a man who had very little to say.

Chem nodded.

“And let me get the mis–”

“Don’t open her door. Not unless you can live without fingers.”

Chem only said a few words. They didn’t concern his car. They were a warning for the precious cargo inside.

“I, in fact, have no intentions of doing that, so I will let you have at it.”

“Wise man,” he concluded, making his way around the car.

He opened the door and assisted me onto the curb. When I was close enough, he pressed his lips against my ear.

“You’re almost too fucking good to be true.”

My cheeks peaked as my body prickled with tiny bumps that made areas of my skin painful. I pushed forward with Chem leading the way. He was dressed in a brown, long-sleeved shirt with pants that matched. His hair was freshly cut, adding another layer to his sex appeal. Under the word fine in the dictionary sat a picture of him. I was convinced.

Long legs paraded toward the entrance. I cursed every woman who’d ever seen what was between them. He was definitely a man over six feet. His dick, it was measuring at nearly four feet, itself. I was almost certain.

He was carrying a miniature version of himself between his thighs. A third leg. A pole. A water hose. A bat. And when he swung, he always hit his target.

So wrapped up in his charm, I hadn’t noticed we’d reached our seat or we’d entered through a private wing and not the actual front door. I’d missed my chance to sneak off to the restroom and ditch the com in my ear. Our waitress was waiting on us, watching with a smile that reached her eyes as we took our seats.

Please, love. This one is mine.

He was rubbing off of me. The ping of jealousy stung like a bee. But, the way our waitress was eyeing the man who belonged to me left me with a bitter taste in my mouth.

Chem made his way around the table for four and had a seat after making sure I was settled. The knots had begun to form in my stomach, coiling it in twelve different directions. I could feel the gas as it bubbled and rolled around the areas that weren’t constricted and curled.

It was imperative I visited the ladies’ room much sooner rather than later. By now, my team was aware I was no longer in Roulette. Where I truly was, I never wanted them to find out.

“Welcome to Charred.”

Fuck.

“I’m Taylor. I’ll be serving you tonight. It’s such a pleasure having you and it is such a pleasure seeing a familiar face.”

With raised brows, I jogged my memory. I didn’t recall the face in front of me. But, the chances of my name being revealed sent me into a panic. It wasn’t long before I realized her eyes were still trained on Chem. I was invisible to her.

Giddily, she bounced, ready to be acknowledged. Ready to be affirmed. Chem said nothing. He simply expanded his limbs and grew more comfortable in his chair. My nervous, sweaty hands pressed against my pants, relieved I wasn’t under the watchful eye. Having my cover blown would’ve ended my night and possibly my life.

Though I was freed of concern, I grew increasingly suspicious of the woman before us with a smile bright enough to light any room. The twinkle in her eyes let me know she’d had or craved more of Chem. Jealousy pushed my nostrils out further on my face. My heart drummed against my chest.

“A familiar face?” I chuckled, getting Chem’s attention.

“Yes. Yes. Since–oh my God. Forever. Chemistry Childers.”

Hearing his full name was quite surprising. I hadn’t taken him for a Chemistry, but as I repeated it in my head, it began to feel like the perfect fit. It was sophisticated, much like him.

“Oh,” I sniggered, catching his eyes, hoping he was reading mine. “The whole name?”

“Umm. Hmm. We go waaaaay back. I hate Rome and I drifted apart the way we did. I still miss her and keep telling myself I’ll get down to the theater to see her perform. How is Roulette? I tried getting into her club a few months back. Apparently, I don’t make enough to get on the guest list.” She laughed.

“Oh, God. I miss each and every one of those girls. They were like sisters to me. Everyone is on the right path, thriving and just continuing to be the girls I’ve always admired. I bumped into Roaman. She told me she finished school and finally became a surgeon. From my understanding, Rather has her own practice. I’m going to have to go sit on her couch one day. Every time I leave this place, I need therapy, but don’t we all?”

She looked over at me for a response. A sly smile stretched my lips. The agitation on Chem’s face matched the discomfort on mine. While it would make my job so much easier if she continued talking, I couldn’t help but want her to shut the fuck up–and fast.

I dug in my canal, moving the com around, hoping to scramble the device and make communication difficult. There was so much going on in my ear, my head, and my heart. I was torn a twenty-six ways, it seemed.

“And Range. I saw her on the cover of the local magazine. First female to make partner at her firm. She was always so fierce. I knew she’d be great. Hell, I knew they all would. The way your family was structured just– I never had that. That’s why I spent so much of my time with Rome. Tell my girl I miss her and I will get down to the theater to see her. I promise.”

“Cognac, neat,” was Chem’s only response.

Silence was mine. The influx of information I’d received in such little time was so overwhelming, that I was unsure of what it was I should do next. Vomit threatened to spill from my core. It was made abundantly clear the man I’d spent the last two years searching for was right in front of me, had been inside of me, and I’d fallen head first for him.

“Cuvée,” he finalized.

“Same ole Chem. Nothing more to say,” she teased, entering his drink on the small handheld device she’d been holding.

“You’ve said enough. When you return, either shut the fuck up or direct another server to our table, Taylor Finlen.”

Her eyes grew three times their size. I wasn’t sure if it was the revealing of her full name that he’d obviously remembered or his request that had her scurrying from the table without my drink order. I didn’t mind. The water that was waiting would suffice. I peeled the paper from the straw and submerged it. Before it could hit the bottom, I was halfway through the glass.

“I need to use the ladies’ room,” I announced, catching my breath once I’d finished three-fourths of the water.

I didn’t wait for a response. I was up out of my seat in a flash, heading down the hallway and through the restaurant. Because I’d never been inside the prestigious establishment, I had no idea where I was headed, but I was determined I’d find my way.

I didn’t need assistance. I needed fresh air. Because I didn’t want to make a run for it, the restroom would suffice–for now.

Oh God.

This is all bad.

Hot flashes made me feel like I was drowning in a pool of sweat. The walls of the restaurant were getting tighter, and closer. My throat burned though I’d just had almost a full glass of water. My thoughts were jumbled. The knots in my stomach locked, squeezing it for dear life. Panic had set in and it was taking me for a ride.

This can’t be happening.

What are the fucking odds?

I grew ill. It was all beginning to make sense. How I hadn’t pieced the puzzle together before now was baffling. I was blinded by his charm. His sophistication. His, everything.

“The Chemist –our number one subject. The initial target. The big guy. With him in our custody, the rest of this empire will crumble. Nothing moves unless he moves it. We’re certain of it. According to his profile, he is arrogant. Calculated. He lacks remorse and empathy. He is someone who has impeccable schooling.

“A scholar. He’s possibly the head of a major pharmaceutical company, fucking drug administration board member, or something. The bottom line is, he’s into drugs. The science of it all. He’s a fucking genius.”

Bradford”s words revisited me as I located the sign with the skirt on it.

Chem– The Chemist. CHEM. Chemistry. My thoughts raced.

I shoved the door to the restroom open and found the nearest stall. Hovering over the toilet, I pressed a hand against my chest to stop my heart from plummeting out. At any second, I knew I could find it on the floor.

“Johanson!” Jack screamed.

“Hey. Joh–”

It wasn’t until then that I began to hear the voices in my ear. The voices in my head had been so loud. The galloping of my heart had been so loud. My breathing had been so loud. I was deafened.

“Y–”

Before I could speak, the door of the restroom flew open. I hadn’t set my eyes on him, but I could feel Chem. He was so fucking demanding. Spellbinding. Entrancing.

My God.

I snatched the small device from my ear by the tips of my fingers. It fell into the toilet, exactly where I’d intended for it to go. I flushed it, watching it swirl before wiping the sweat from my top lip and straightening my posture. When I turned around, I was face to face with the man himself.