Chapter Twenty-Nine
Mind y
As we stroll through the hospital parking lot, I wrap my flimsy cardigan tighter around me.
It’s freezing cold outside. I was too caught up in the chaos to even think about grabbing a coat before I rushed to be with Sharon.
Maron takes off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders.
"Thanks," I say, feeling the instant relief from the warmth.
God, it feels so good. It’s a small gesture, but no one has looked out for me like this in the past seven years. Frankly, no one ever gave two shits if I was freezing or sweltering.
"We’re here," he announces as we reach his black Escalade.
I immediately recognize the license number. So, it’s true, after all. I knew it was him I saw a few weeks ago. New York High. The parking lot of the ice cream shop. A thought crosses my mind: has he been stalking me? I choose to keep that question to myself. I’ll find out everything soon enough, all in good time.
"Same ride?" I comment.
He shrugs. "They don’t make cars as good as these anymore."
He unlocks the sleek black vehicle with the press of a button, and we slide into the soft, leather interior. He says nothing as we pull out onto the road. I sneak furtive glances at him from the corner of my eye, studying the hard line of his jaw and the shadows dancing across those razor-sharp cheekbones. After all these years, he’s still the most breathtakingly beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"You’ll see," he replies.
Right. Typical Maron. If I had doubts about whether it’s really him, they dissipate in an instant. So, I settle back into the luxurious car seat and let my eyes flutter shut. I don’t push for answers. I’m too exhausted to do so anyway. I just want to enjoy that he’s here with me and that it feels completely natural. Like everything we’ve been through together happened yesterday.
But as we drive through the city, my mind begins to wander. Where the hell has he been all this time? He just let me believe he was dead for the last seven years? And now he just walks back into my life like it’s the most normal thing ever? And how can he stay so calm?
All of a sudden, I feel my emotions surge. I want to yell at him, punch him, and let out all the frustration and pain I’ve been bottling up since he disappeared. By the time we pull into an underground garage beneath a huge skyscraper, there’s a storm raging inside me.
"Let’s go," he says casually, oblivious to my internal storm. He brings the car to a halt and the soft purr of the motor stops.
"I still don’t know where we’re going," I tell him, trying to hide my rising anger. I know it won’t lead to any good if I let it out now. There is a time for everything.
"You need new clothes," he says.
"From here?" I squeak.
"From here." A ghost of a smile plays across his lips. "You can’t be walking around in that glorified tissue paper you call a top."
Okay. This guy is definitely Maron Korolev. Though, I must admit, he’s got a point. But then again, the dumpster-chic aesthetic of my outfit is the least of my problems right now.
We get out of the car, and Maron leads me toward a place that looks like the Taj Mahal of shopping centers. If I didn’t know better, I’d think we just landed in Dubai of all places. I’m eyeing the storefronts and admiring the lavish displays, each one more extravagant than the last. A simple top in one window probably costs more than my entire monthly salary, making me wonder if I’ve stumbled into a parallel universe where fashion reigns supreme and sanity takes a backseat. The opulence of the place is overwhelming.
As soon as we enter the first shop, Maron goes full “Pretty Woman” on me, minus the prostitute backstory. Dresses, shoes, make up - all costing more than my monthly rent - end up in our pile. I resist him; of course, I do, but he’s relentless. Eventually, I give up and allow him to give me the ultimate princess treatment of ultimate princess treatments.
By the time we finish our insane shopping frenzy, I’m pretty sure we’ve left a dent in the market that’ll be talked about for the years to come.
"Thank you, Maron. You really didn’t have to-" I try telling him as we exit the last boutique.
"You needed it." He cuts me off. "Just take it."
Okay, Mister.
Once we dropped our shopping in the trunk and got back inside his car, Maron turns towards me. "You’re here," is all he says, but there’s so much emotion, so much longing in those words that my heart begins to race again. And it’s more than just that. I also feel my body beginning to heat and the familiar tingling in my pussy growing stronger.
And then, as if he could sense every tumultuous thought and feeling swirling within me, he leans in and kisses me.
Just like that.
And it’s like fireworks going off.
Seven years of pent-up longing explodes, releasing the energy of a dying star. His lips ravage mine with a wild force that sweeps me away. He kisses with primal desire like a man possessed. He kisses like he wants to fuck me right here, right now. Like he wants me to scream his name, shake with ecstasy, and be completely undone in his hands until I’m reduced a puddle of need and want.
We finally break apart, both of us panting heavily. "Put your seatbelt on," he commands.
"What… why?" I pant, barely catching my breath.
He glances at me briefly. "You said we need to talk," he responds with a smug expression. "We’re going somewhere we can talk."