Damaged

Sophia

I hide most of the day. I don’t have the energy to meet six new people. Let alone rich elites who want to grill me on my pedigree. But I admit, they’re not all like Alessia. In fact, her husband Marco is a really easy guy to talk to.

He came into the study on a solo house tour when I was reading there earlier. He’s got a short black beard, man-bun, and long eyelashes that almost make it look like he wears eyeliner.

Why is the world like that sometimes? Some of the more easygoing guys and girls end up dating their polar opposites. The saying opposites attract doesn’t explain the science. Maybe it’s nature’s way of stopping offspring from being too extreme of one thing.

Anyway, I’m not going to complain. Two people like Alessia standing side-by-side would be a nightmare.

When everyone has arrived, I have to show face. I haven’t had James to myself all day. Not like he wants to be with me. He had his chance last night

He’s been scarce all day, even as his friends arrived.

I come down out of my room in the only dress I packed. It’s black, tight, and thankfully sexy. The spaghetti lace shoulders show enough skin. With a little blush and very light lipstick, I look good, but not too good. A part of me wishes I was the girl who had the confidence to go all out.

Bright-red lipstick. Chin tilted ever-so slightly up. Confident gleam in my eye. But that’s not me. I don’t like to draw fire. Especially after Alessia’s warning.

I open my bedroom door, and my insides go watery at the sound of the loud conversation downstairs. I don’t have awful social anxiety, but I’m not a butterfly, either. The blush was strategic—this way when I’m truly blushing, it won’t be so obvious.

I walk down the stairs, breath held, and then I start to mingle. I do it well, I think. I smile and shake hands with all the new arrivals. Two of his friends are Dutch, blond, and nearly identical, but apparently, they’re not related at all.

I hear everybody’s name twice, but I still forget them immediately.

Except for Kate.

She’s dating one of the Dutch guys, the blonder of the two. She has brown hair cut in a long bob and large gray eyes that bulge out a little bug-like, but she’s still stunning. Her big eyes make her even more stunning, the longer I look at her.

She’s an alien. But a very pretty alien.

“Hi! I’m Kate,” she says.

“,” I say, smiling, and shake her hand.

“You’re James’s secretary, right?”

“I’m an assistant gallerist.”

“Oh, his assistant. Awesome. Awesome. Isn’t he such a great guy? So many rich guys in Manhattan would never invite lower-level employees to anything.”

Alessia could’ve saved her words. A better warning would’ve been to tell me to hit Kate in the face with a shovel before she could even talk.

It’s going to be a long night. I’ll just stay clear of her, but for now I play nice. “Yeah, he’s great. And how do you know him?”

“Oh, we were friends at Dartmouth. And then I ended up married to Clyde, one of his best friends.”

Are all these girls’ exes who ended up dating James’s friends?

James is standing with his hands in his pockets. He seems distant and elsewhere while Marco talks to him.

Another one of his friends, an Indian man with a thick mustache, offers his hand to me for an introduction. I take it like I’m drowning, and I turn away from Kate and put everything I have into this conversation with Ashwin.

He likes trading crop futures, but you wouldn’t think for a second that it wasn’t my new favorite thing in the world, too.

Soon, we’re outside at the table eating crab legs, and thankfully I’m seated next to Marco. Kate is on the far end of the table, closer to James.

I don’t add much to the conversation. They’re talking about places I’ve never been. People I don’t know and their big-time jobs that are very different from my own.

At least there’s melted butter to dip the crab in. When the crab first came out, I was afraid that would be considered trashy and there’d be some kind of lower-calorie alternative.

I have more than my fill. I eat until I’m stuffed and then some. I treat the crab like popcorn and crack and pluck it with my fingers while I listen to these rich folks’ conversation like a movie.

Kate and Alessia are going at it over which designer had an affair with a male model, and my eyes are darting back and forth like I’m watching a tennis match. I crack another crab leg with my fingers. It’s loud enough to stop the conversation.

“Sorry,” I say.

Alessia points at my plate daintily. “You know, crabs and lobsters are more related to spiders and bugs than they are fish.”

“Mhmm. I saw that same video. Disgusting,” Kate says and looks at me. “I don’t know how you eat the stuff.”

Am I seriously being judged for eating crab legs? I hold my fury in. Poorly. “Well, it’s simple, Kate . Sea bugs are delicious when you dip them in butter.” I take a big bite of crab, holding an entire leg to my mouth like it’s a flute, and stare her in the eye.

Kate looks at me with a snarl. Her face is contorted in disgust like I’m a human fart cloud. I’m being a little unhinged around these rich folks, but I don’t care. I’m content being as different from their posh asses as possible.

The conversation resumes, and eventually it steers exactly where I don’t want it to: me.

And it’s Kate who starts it.

“So, what’s it like renting in New York City these days? I haven’t done that since I was a teenager. I hear it’s crazy.”

This bitch has her Ph.D. in underhand comments. She even picks the moment when my mouth is stuffed with crab. Which has been most of the dinner, to be fair. But I should’ve been more strategic. I should’ve been taking smaller bites.

I play it cool. I lean back and tilt my head from shoulder to shoulder as I tap my fingers and chew. I swallow. “It’s not great. Especially when your neighbor is a billionaire. They tend to drive rent up,” I say, looking at James.

“Wait, you two are neighbors?” Kate asks.

“He’s a floor above me.”

“Wow, James Callaway. Slumming. I had no idea.”

“Quit it, Kate,” James says like he’s her dad.

Kate giggles, but it’s fake, and I can tell she’s a little embarrassed at being called out.

Kate’s boyfriend—Jax or Jaques? I don’t know. Her boyfriend, the very blond Dutch dude with beady eyes and a big chin that juts out farther than the rest of his face, looks at James like he’s going to say something in her defense, but he keeps his mouth closed. Instead, the Dutchman turns to me.

“James was telling me he was taking someone named Jessica to Egypt. That’s not you?”

I’ve already told everyone my name, but I don’t fault them for not remembering. “No, I’m .”

“Why the change of plan?”

“She broke her leg,” I say.

“Ahh,” the Dutchman says like everything suddenly makes sense. “You’re the backup assistant, then?”

“Um… sure.”

“Did she do good?” he asks James, while pointing at me like a doofus with his fork.

“She did incredible, Johannes.” James’s eyes have darkened. They’re narrowed, showing little of the whites.

“Hey, what do they call that in America?” He snaps his fingers. “The backup quarterback, right?” Johannes asks.

James doesn’t respond.

“To the backup quarterback!” Johannes raises his glass in a toast. The others do too, except James and me. He sits at the head of the table, sideways in his chair. One hand rests next to his plate. He looks dangerous.

I see Johannes and Kate are not opposites. They have that similar talent of being able to mask an insult in a toast so they can get away with being mean in the open.

I look at James. He’s closed his eyes. He’s grimacing, but he’s not saying anything.

I just want to go to bed. I’ve had enough crab for the night. I pick up a wine bottle and fill my glass to the brim.

“Are you planning to work up through the ranks, then?” Johannes asks me.

I sip my wine first and lick my lips. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you have more ambition than being an assistant?”

“Johannes, why don’t you tell about how you got your job?” James says.

Johannes quickly purses his lips. “Oh, that’s all very boring, really.”

“Tell her,” James says. His words come out as more of a demand.

Johannes is quiet before he finally speaks. “I was very fortunate to get a position in Creative at one of the largest marketing firms in Europe.”

“And how’d you get it?” James continues his questioning.

“It’s not a secret. I have connections there.”

“As in your dad’s the CEO.”

“Well, yes. But as I’ve said many times, the CEO is not in charge of hiring for the Creative Department.”

“So, your selection was a coincidence?”

“I’m not going to say it was completely unmerited.”

James smirks. He looks off at the sky whimsically. “And what was your class rank at Dartmouth again, Mr. Merited? I happen to remember it being around the last third percentile. You were right next to the magic mushroom kids who got in on legacy.”

Johannes blushes and picks up his napkin. He delicately touches it to each corner of his mouth. “Must we?”

“If you insult my business associate again, I’ll do a lot more than mention what kind of objects you let members of Phi-Kappa-Phi stick up your ass during rush week.”

The table goes silent.

“Aww. So defensive over a little nobody. It looks like someone’s got a crush,” Kate says.

My stomach drops. Is this about to dissolve into a fight?

His face twitches. His eyes are narrowed. “Kate. Get out,” he says quietly.

Kate keeps going. “Wait until everyone gets a load of this. James Callaway. Stud billionaire. Likes his little employee.”

The blush does nothing to stop my cheeks from getting napalmed. My forehead burns. My throat dries.

“If you’re going to act like children, I’m going to treat you like children,” James says coolly. “Now, get on your webbed feet, you inbred trust-fund fucks, and get out. Ashwin. Morrie. You two stay. Everyone, else… out.”

He says this in a voice that makes the others burn with shame. Like a dad to his kids.

“James.” Johannes leans across the table. “You can’t be serious. We don’t have reservations anywhere else.”

“There’s a resort on either side of this place. I’m sure you’ll manage. Go.”

Everyone is silent as they realize they’re not going to change James’s mind.

Johannes pushes back from the table, stands, and starts towards the door that leads into the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” James snaps.

“To get my things.”

“I said leave, not go back into my house.”

“You’re being absurd,” Johannes says with indignation.

“No. Letting you leave with your eyeballs after you just insulted my employee and me is absurd. Now get the fuck out before I eat you for dinner, Johannes. Kate, you too. Although I doubt you’d taste much better than beet root.”

“We’re calling the police,” Johannes says. “You just tanked half a dozen contracts. Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“A bunch of spoiled fools.”

“I’ll call the police,” Johannes says again.

James sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles violently. The whole table jumps. People start looking left and right, worrying while they wonder what he just summoned.

Two men with rifles against their chests come out from the dark. One pulls his black facemask down. “Yessir?”

“These people are refusing to leave the property. They want to contact local authorities.”

“That would be a bad idea for them,” I hear Brock say.

“I think so as well. Your bags will be driven to you. That’s my final offer.”

“We’ll go,” Johannes says. “We’ll go.” His voice is high like he might start crying.

James says nothing.

The table clears apart from Ashwin and a shy Canadian named Morrie who has said all of two words this evening. They keep eating awkwardly, as if they have no appetite but don’t know what else to do.

James stays at the head of the table as the others clear out. They walk up the stone driveway that snakes uphill and vanish.

When they’re gone, James has a large glass of scotch brought out to him. I don’t know what to do or say. I sit and listen to the waves and my heart crash.

“Um… Can I be excused?” Ashwin asks after another couple minutes.

James frowns. “Of course. Make yourselves at home, please.”

Ashwin and Morrie scramble to their feet like schoolkids and file quickly inside one after the other.

James keeps sipping his scotch and then picks up his knife and fork. He starts to eat as if nothing happened.

A minute passes while I just sit. He and I are the last at the table. “Thank you,” I say finally, but it sounds awkward. Like the silence was supposed to stay intact and I just fucked it up.

James raises his brow. “You’re a fool to thank me for bringing you here. I should’ve known they’d be like that around you.”

“How could you have known?”

“Because I know them. And you’re everything they wish they could buy.”

The wind comes off the sea, cold. I raise my shoulders and cross my arms. Despite the chill, my face is still flushed. My heart rate is high, and I can feel it flutter even faster as a question brews behind my lips.

“What do you mean by that?”

James sets down his scotch glass. He stares at me for several seconds, his hair blowing gently across his forehead. “You’re beautiful, . Gorgeous, kind, and curious. I always wondered about the type of woman songs are written about. Wars are fought over. Lives… are ruined for.” He says the last bit like he’s on the brink of ruining his own. “And if you want to hear the truth, I think it’s a woman like you. It drives me crazy that they’d try to bring you down. So don’t thank me for putting you in the middle of them.”

I don’t know what to say. I’m speechless. I’m two seats from James, but if I lean a little to my right, I can reach his hand. I don’t know what I’m thinking, but I do it. I stretch and put his big hand in mine. He doesn’t pull away; he flips my hand over gently and runs his thumb over my palm. He pauses it on my wrist, right where he can feel my pulse, and then presses down.

My breaths become short as we lock eyes.

“Are you running a marathon, snowflake?”

“No,” I say with a fake little laugh.

“Your heart seems to think so.”

“Yeah” is all I can eke out.

He’s still staring at me, and my pulse climbs higher as we look at each other. There’s no awkwardness in the eye contact. Just all the things we haven’t said— I’m attracted to you. I like you. I…

Suddenly James’s green eyes begin to darken. There’s something infecting them, dulling the shine—doubt.

He takes his hand away, and it feels like he drags my heart with him.

“I should get some sleep. We’ll fly back tomorrow. This was a successful trip, .”

What? I want to shout. No . “It was,” I say calmly, looking for that warmth to come back into his eyes. To see that green fire flicker again. But it’s gone.

“It was nice working with you.”

“You, too,” I say, nodding. Under my silent exterior, I’m screaming. Take me upstairs with you. Take me to your bed. Take me .

But I don’t say any of that. James must have different thoughts. There’s something more than sex between us. And I feel like that is what he’s afraid of.

Vulnerability. Liability. Impossibility. Those are the words he thinks of when he thinks of love. And maybe one more… Betrayal. Like if he loved me, one way or another, he’d destroy me. But something else has dawned on me at this dinner.

I’d let him destroy me for the slim chance he didn’t. I’d roll the dice.

I picture his warm hands on my cold skin when he’d put me in the ice bath. The electricity of his gaze. Suddenly a new feeling burns in me. It’s not my cheeks or heart.

It comes from my core, hot and wet. If I wasn’t so burned out, I’d blush again. I turn from James and stand.

“I’m going to take a walk. I’m not quite ready to turn in.”

“Good night, ,” James says, his voice quieter. Deeper. It was a dismissal. His eyes may linger on me with longing, but this is a man who built his empire on self-control.

I still haven’t stood up. What I want is for him to join me. To walk out with me to the water. To look at the stars over the sea and wrap his heavy arms around my shoulders. I feel pathetic not leaving the table right away. I’m waiting for him to say I’ll join you , but those words aren’t ever going to come from him.

I stand finally and walk off across the grass lawn and towards the beach.

The breeze is stronger closer to the water. It’s deafening here. The crash and hiss of surf, the whirl of wind in my ears. I close my eyes and try to let the cold air cool my lust. When that doesn’t work, I take off my heels and walk just to where the last of each wave licks at the shore. The Atlantic water rushes past my ankles. After a minute, I can feel my toes stiffen and picture how pink they are.

I didn’t expect to have a crisis on this trip. I was proud of how I acted when my life was threatened. Happy I was going to make a life-changing sum of money, but then I was disappointed and resentful of myself for how little it all made me feel.

I wanted more.

You’re beautiful, .

His words echo through my head. I don’t know when it happened, but I realize I’m crying. Two cold streaks race down each cheek. I’m being pathetic. I have so much to be grateful for and yet… Yet. It feels like I have nothing. Because I have no one. My parents live across an ocean from each other. I’ve isolated my true feelings from my friends. Dammed them up. And now it feels like if I were to tell them, it would all come out at once and I’d drown them with my problems.

I should go back to therapy. Use this money to get a better counselor than insurance will provide. But all the back and forth talking will lead me to the same conclusion I can make now under these stars—I’m lonely.

I turn back towards the house. I can see the dinner table under the string lights from here. James is no longer at the head of it. He’s gone.

I notice something to my left, farther down the beach from where I started walking. A shadow. Dark. Tall. My heart races at first, thinking of Russians, and when I realize who this shadow is, my throbbing heart doesn’t slow. Instead it begins to rocket.

Tall, suited. There’s a squish of sand under his shoes as he gets closer. For a moment I think it’s just a dream, until he walks in the moonlight just so that I see the cut of his jaw and his green eyes flash.

“James…” I hear myself say his name like a plea.

I’m begging. I need him. His kiss on my forehead sent embers tumbling all the way down to my toes.

James doesn’t say anything as he kisses my lips. My knees bend and wobble.

Soft lips. Hard kiss. The light taste of smoky scotch as his tongue gently enters my mouth. But it’s only for a moment before he retreats and pulls on my bottom lip gently with his teeth.

I feel his hot breath on my neck and stare at the stars overhead as he kisses down to my breasts. There’s something not real about this moment. It’s the sound of the ocean. The taste of him.

I think he’s making it clear by not lingering on my lips—this is just sex.

Fine by me.

He takes me by the hand and leads me behind a large outcrop of rocks that shields us from the wind. It’s warm here. The stone still hot from the Moroccan sun. He presses me against the rocks and takes the spaghetti straps off my shoulders. He tugs the dress down to my feet. Hard.

I know where this is going. I’m going to be his, and I have no say.

The warm stone digs into my naked back, but I couldn’t care less. I’m focused more on the heat between my thighs as James presses two fingers into me. A tingling explosion races through my veins as he starts to move them in and out. He takes one of my bare nipples in his teeth at the same time. He flicks it with his tongue and pinches my other. Gentle pressure. Burning touch.

I gasp as he takes my legs out from under me with one strong arm braced against the back of my knees and another on my back. He lays me gently on the rocky pebbles and sticks my dress under my butt to protect me from sand.

I put my hands in his silky soft hair, but I’m not able to control my limbs for much longer. He takes my clit between his teeth and keeps fucking me with his long, strong fingers. I slowly become a one-hundred-and-fifty-pound puddle as his tongue swirls on my sex. I’m not even thinking as I raise my hips and buck into him. The stars above me start to blur as my blood burns.

“Come for me, ,” James growls. “Come,” he demands, and my body listens. The orgasm races up my spine, and I shake violently.

He lifts his head up and moves onto his knees. We’re not wasting any time. We paw and fumble over each other like lusting teenagers with a time limit.

I reach down to feel his hard cock through his dress pants. Thick. Long. It presses against the fabric with such force, it looks like it could break the button.

I put my fingers on the button, and I’m impressed with how deftly I flip it out of its hole. Then I yank down his pants and boxers.

With the pressure released, his cock swings forward. I see it heavy and wobbling in the moonlight. There’s still enough light to see the long, thick veins. The pulsing head.

I hold his cock in my hand, exploring it with my fingers. Every trace of vein, the ridge of his tip.

He moves forward so I’m face-to-face with it. I put the tip in my mouth. Soft, a little salty, and smelling of man. I salivate as his cock enters my mouth. I take him halfway. More than I think I can. I want to please him, and I close my eyes and let him push his cock down my throat as I try to reach the base.

“That’s a good girl. Oh…fuck.”

My eyes water. I feel myself getting wetter. I don’t think I’ve ever gushed this much from giving head, but with James it’s different. With his thick, heavy cock in my mouth and gruff voice in my ears, I could probably come like this if I could just rub myself against his leg.

But I want to come harder. I move my head back and spit. “Fuck me,” I say.

“Fuck you what?” James growls back.

“Fuck me, please. Please fuck me.”

He pats my sopping wet entrance with his fingers and laughs. His laugh is humiliating. Telling. It says I’m just his slut. But right now, I don’t want to be anything else.

He takes his cock and slaps my clit with it. It makes me convulse and twitch. “You want your little pussy stretched?”

“Yes. Stretch me. Please.” If I was less horny, I’d be embarrassed by how pathetically I beg him. I feel his tip gliding up and down. The pressure of his cock head on my clit. He’s lubing himself from my gushing sex. He finally presses the head right where I want him to, against the center of all my heat, when suddenly there’s a crash and burn of cold all over my naked skin. It reaches my mouth and goes searing up my nose.

Salty, burning, seawater.

There’s another crash, and suddenly James is pulling me to my feet. “Shit!” I hear him say. I’m too dazed to even move. I’m busy spitting out the sea. He takes my hand as the water moves in at thigh height.

“It’s the tide,” James says.

“My dress,” I say.

“Long gone.”

We wade quickly to the end of the little rock cove, and together we climb so we’re back on the big grass lawn. I hold my hands over my bare breasts more because I’m cold, not because I’m afraid of being seen.

There’s no one in sight, and we stand in the dark. James lost his pants and shirt. We both stand dripping and naked. His cock has already softened from the cold water, and it hangs heavy and limp.

We’re both breathless, and now the breeze has gone from chilly to bone cold as it blasts my wet bare skin.

“I lost my phone,” James says and looks back down at the rocky cove filling with water.

I’m glad I left mine in my bedroom, but I don’t say anything about that. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I have another. Let’s get you dried off.”

“What about you?” I say.

“My teeth aren’t chattering.”

“Oh. Right.”

He puts his arm around my shoulders, and we walk towards the beach chairs where we had been this morning. He grabs two towels that have been placed and folded on the chairs and wraps me in both. He starts to dry me off.

“Come on.” He nods his head towards the house.

I follow him closely. James doesn’t even bother to put on clothes. I smile as his dick swings side to side as he walks.

I guess this is his house after all. He’d rather I have both towels and be warm than care if someone sees him in the buff.

Besides, if there was a definition of a man having nothing to hide, it’s James Callaway. Abs like razor sharp trapezoids. Cock most of the size of my forearm. If I were watching from the house, it would look like Adonis came out of the sea.

We don’t pass anyone on our way inside, although I have a feeling his armed patrols see us from the dark, and he guides me all the way upstairs, taking a blanket from over the back of the couch to wrap around his waist.

We go into my bedroom, and I drop both towels and give him a sly grin. I want to pick up where we left off. But even I know it was a mistake.

There was something about the dark and the seashore that was anonymous. Spontaneous.

This feels somewhat wrong. Like now, under the bright lights, I see that I’m the horny assistant about to have sex with her boss.

But it wasn’t just lust down there by the water. There was something more. Something that is gone now.

I stand completely naked, staring up at James. My big eyes begging. I don’t care if it’s wrong. Or if he’ll hurt me. I want him to fuck me. But now that those green eyes search mine, I can tell he’s having similar thoughts of doubt.

There’s no denying it. His expression is a mirror of my thoughts—the spell of what we did out by the water has been broken. Now he’d be making more of a conscious decision to take me.

I see guilt darken his face. He looks down and away from me. “We should both get some sleep, snowflake. It’s been a wild few days.”

“Right,” I say while my heart plummets. I suddenly feel so vulnerable that I bend over and scoop up the towels. I hold them in front of myself, hiding my nakedness awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” I add.

He puts his hand gently on the side of my cheek, and up goes my heart again. The Callaway rollercoaster.

He looks into my eyes like he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t move any closer.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault. Our relationship should be kept…” James trails off.

“Professional?”

He hesitates, like that’s a hard label to choose when we’ve both had each other’s privates in our mouths. “Yeah.” He lowers his hand off my cheek, and we look at each other in silence. “I’ll see you for breakfast.”

“Yeah. See you for breakfast.”

He turns to go. I wish I could say there was something comical about the blanket wrapped around his waist. About our strange nakedness. But my heart feels broken.

“I’ll leave the door open,” I blurt out. My cheeks burn. I didn’t even think. I just spoke.

James turns over his shoulder. “… I’ve never been with a woman I didn’t end up breaking.” He licks his lips. “Let’s leave it at that.”

You can break me if you want to. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I still can’t bring myself to say them as James walks off down the hall.

But I know had I said them, he’d have turned around and yanked the towels back down. He’d have thrown me on the bed, and he’d have broken me.

But now there’s no one in the hall. Now it’s too late. To follow him would be desperate. The house feels suddenly empty. And so does my life. There’s nothing in the hall now but the slow plop of water dripping out of my hair and onto the hardwood.

I know he won’t come visit me in the night. I know that was our one chance. The tension that had been building all week.

Gone. Ruined.

I don’t even bother leaving the door open a crack. I turn around and close it.