Chapter 17
Penelope
“This is nuts. Who the fuck are you to try and tell me how to run my business?” The troll was in rare form today, this son of a bitch in a class all by himself.
From the way the man acted and the things he knew, it was as if he was Carrington’s double. Although I knew better. My ex had likely not read a book since college. Even then, I had a feeling he paid people to take tests for him. Oh, I hated that man.
Now, I wasn’t a misandrist in thinking men couldn’t write romance, held no comprehension for why romance books were so important, or that they couldn’t be a decent influence on the field, but Jesus, this guy was just…
A pain in my ass.
Plus, he’d latched onto a couple of pictures including my face.
One had been at the readers’ convention.
Another had been at the wedding. Someone had caught me with Christian, the picture certainly nothing that could be misconstrued as being intimate, yet the troll thought I was suddenly some slut.
What the hell was wrong with the man? His last couple of comments had been like I owed him something.
Or that he owned me.
My thoughts drifted briefly to Christian. He acted the same way, although without calling me nasty names. Plus, there was a major difference in the two situations. I loathed the troll and I adored, even craved Christian’s possessiveness.
I was about to fire off a hate-filled comment on his latest diatribe on one of my posts when I heard the doorbell. If there was one thing I hated, it was unannounced visitors. While grumbling, I debated ignoring whoever had made the bad decision to knock on my door.
Whoever it was decided persistence would pay off, my hesitation resulting in a tirade of knocks turning into heavy pounding.
Now that pissed me off, but it worked and I stormed toward the front door, throwing it open.
Marlee’s eyes opened wide, obviously from whatever hateful expression I’d carried with me. “Well, hello to you too, bestie. Did you forget about our lunch?”
“Oh, shit.” I smacked my forehead. “I did. I’ve been buried in working out a few kinks.”
She shook her head. “You’re turning into a workaholic. Oh, wait. You already were. Aren’t you going to at least invite me in so I can catch a glimpse of that fabulous painting you raved about?”
Had I raved about the painting? That I didn’t remember doing. “Come on in. You’re welcome to see its magnificence.”
She followed me into my office, her mouth immediately dropping open. “Oh, wow. Now that is hot as hell.” As she walked closer, I stood behind her, indulging in gawking as I’d done so many times before.
“He did a great job. You should see some of the others.”
“The colors are so vivid, but the subject matter is… ooh-la-la, baby. This guy must be a hopeless man holding domination dear to his heart.”
Marlee had a way of cutting through any conversation to the very core. “Or sadism.”
“That too, but who doesn’t love a little kink with their sex. Right?” The girl was practically mesmerized, allowing feathery touches to the girl’s face. “She’s beautiful in her pain, but the agony is worth the pleasure she’ll receive later.”
“Said like a woman who’d enjoy time under the whip.”
Twisting her body, she threw me a look. “Come on. You mean you haven’t?”
I threw up my hands while my thoughts drifted to the belt Christian had used. When her eyes brightened, I forced myself to turn away.
“Oh, come on. You’ve done something kinky in your life.”
“Maybe.”
Unable to resist, she moved closer. “With Mr. Mystery Man?”
I’d never been able to keep anything from my best friend, barely holding a straight face.
“You have! Oh, my God, and you didn’t tell me? How dare you. I need details. Lots of details. Pictures tell no lies?”
Instead of answering right away, I moved behind my desk, running my finger across my trackpad, which brought my screen back to life. “We might have spent a little quality time together. You saw the picture too?”
“It was gorgeous, girl. The backdrop. The lighting. The way you two were looking at each other.” Marlee fanned her face, even swiveling her hips.
“He was very handsome. Wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was. You are one nasty bitch, slut.”
“Back at you, whore.” It was our way of teasing each other and we both laughed.
“Now, confess. Who is the hottie you’ve been shagging?”
Her terms were what made her such a colorful personality. “Well,” I started while trying to ignore HotAlphaMan’s post, although his words were still infuriating. “Do you remember me telling you about the mystery man?”
“I remember. I think your meet cute and everything else would make a perfect romantic comedy, better on screen though. Please tell me you’re involved in your own amazing dark fantasy.”
That was one way of putting it. I swiveled my chair while offering a salacious smile. “He happens to live in Louisville.”
“You’re kidding me?”
“No…”
Marlee narrowed her eyes. “And he found you or you found him, which was why he was at the wedding!”
“Well, he is one of Drake’s friends, so I don’t think I was the complete draw.”
She reared back, total confusion crossing her face. “Don’t sell yourself short. Is that why you suddenly left?”
“I didn’t leave. I just went to the penthouse.” I bit my lower lip, waiting for her response.
Her squeals were legendary amongst our friends, high pitched and capable of blowing out an eardrum. “You are kidding me.”
“No, he had a very nice suite at the hotel. Much nicer than my little house.”
“Wow. Now that must mean you’re supposed to be together. What is his name and don’t you dare keep me in suspense. I cannot believe you didn’t call me on Sunday morning.”
“I was a little busy on Sunday morning.” Teasing her was way too much fun.
“You are a terrible friend to keep me in the dark.” Who is this man?”
I’d honestly thought about keeping it a secret, a dark and delicious pleasure, especially since I had doubts we’d ever see each other again. “Christian Tempest.”
Marlee took another look at the painting as if putting two and two together. “The name rings a bell.”
“The Tempest Grand where I stayed in San Diego.”
“Oh, wow.” She walked closer, puffing out her cheeks with hot air. “So he’s some rich dude?”
“He’s some rich dude.”
“You are one lucky motherfucker. Gah. You are living a fantasy. Why are all the guys I go out with poor? Does he have a brother?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I have no idea. We really didn’t spend much time talking and the only getting to know each other was handled in… other ways.”
“You really are a slut. Are you seeing him again?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. We didn’t exchange numbers.”
“Find him on Facebook.”
“Not there. I looked.”
Marlee frowned. “Instagram? TikTok?”
“Nope. He’s on LinkedIn, but only with his credentials and I’ve tried looking him up on the internet. Business accomplishments as far as the eye could see. A few photographs from other charity events, but that was about it.”
“People always leave a trail a mile wide.”
“Maybe, but you know what’s interesting? I love the mystery. He’s so seductive, and his aura is very dark.”
“Like a mass murderer.” We both laughed.
Until another ping indicated a new message. When I looked, I was fuming all over again.
“What is it?”
“Oh, this creeper I have. Some guy with the screen name of hot alpha guy. He’s all over my posts and not in a good way. Would you look at some of the crap he wrote? Somehow, he found the photograph with Christian and is acting possessive. Very creepy.”
She moved behind me, leaning over. “Whoa. That’s not just creepy, Pen. That’s a little scary. I mean he’s close to threatening to find you. You belong to him? Who says that kind of crap.”
My pussy began to throb, a quick vision of Christian popping into my mind.
“All because I post sexy things?”
“Some men are freaks, Penny. They think all women are into what they write or read. You’ve been reading dark romances again. Huh?”
I nodded and for the first time, I was nervous. Up until now, I’d been cavalier about what I’d said in return but in a way, I’d egged the jerk on. “Yes, into a phase. What should I do?”
“Well, he’s toeing the line of being kicked off the site, but as soon as he crosses it, notify whatever the platform. You might want to call the police.”
“And say what exactly?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they have some protocol in dealing with internet stalkers. You don’t have your home address connected to anything. Right? There’s no way for anyone to find you.”
“No. I’m very careful with that. Especially since Carrington threatened me.”
“What? You didn’t tell me that.”
I shook my head, refusing to remember the man’s ugly last words. “We got a little hot and heavy when I left Covington. I was accusatory and he was an asshole. Typical.”
“Well, maybe you have a knight in shining armor with Mr. Mystery Man. I still like referring to the hottie that way.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. Me too.” My phone buzzed and as soon as I picked it up, I hissed.
“The troll again?”
“Worse. Carrington. He wants to talk.”
She burst into laughter. “Maybe he’s jealous. Tell him to fuck the hell off.”
Hmmm… I winked at her as I typed furiously, hitting send.
“What did you say?”
“I told him to fuck the hell off.” And it felt damn good.
Marlee almost choked as she laughed.
Another doorbell. “What is this? Grand central station week?”
“Hey, I’m your bestie. Maybe it’s Mystery Man coming to sweep you off your feet.” She’d dipped her voice into a low range, fanning her face as if she was funny. The brat.
“I’ll be right back. Maybe I’ve won the lottery.
” I could certainly use it at this point.
When I opened the door, this time I did so with more apprehension.
Why? Because of Marlee’s warning. What if the jerk managed to find me?
Of course anyone could be a keyboard warrior, pretending they would do something they’d never consider doing in real life, but the idea continued festering in my mind.
At least the man standing in a courier uniform seemed pleasant enough. “Can I help you?”
“Ms. Michaels?”
Before answering, I glanced around his arm to see an emblem of his service on the side of his vehicle. “Yes.”
“This is for you.”
When he handed me a note sealed in an envelope along with a single rose, my favorite type of flower, I wasn’t entirely certain what to feel. “Can you tell me who this is from?”
“My instructions were to deliver. I don’t know the sender.”
“Okay. Let me get you a tip.” Should I be nervous or excited?
His smile was wide. “No need. Already taken care of.”
He backed away, waving as he did while I was stuck in slow motion, only closing the door after he’d driven off. I pulled the rose to my nose, breathing in the sweet fragrance. A twinge of excitement drifted through me.
What if the note was from him? Why was it that I found it difficult to even breathe his name when I’d had no trouble uttering it along with several other salacious comments during our wild moments of passion?
The time spent had offered a beautiful and lasting memory, which had lulled me to sleep every night. I could almost hear his voice and his scent had lingered all through Sunday. I was missing it, which was crazy in of itself.
I walked back into my officer, fingering the flap.
“Wow. A rose. Is it from the mystery man?”
As I shrugged, another series of sensations crawled down my back. I envisioned something horrible printed on the card and half expected there to be poisonous thorns on the stem. All from the alpha boy.
“I don’t know.”
I continued rubbing my finger across the flap before I turned it over. It wasn’t block lettering like the note in the bar, calligraphy instead, but the paper used for the note was exactly the same. Several fluttering tickles skipped down my arms.
“What’s wrong?”
“How does he know my address?” I slipped my nail under the flap, opening it and still feeling extremely nervous in pulling the card into my hand.
“Who? Christian?”
Nodding absently, I read the card.
Would you honor me with your presence this evening, sweet Penelope?
I have a special event in mind. I’ll send a car at six.
I very much look forward to seeing you again.
Wear something comfortable but elegant.
C.T.
A little thrill tore through me.
“Come on. Don’t leave a girl in such suspense.” When I kept my eyes pinned on the request, she snatched it from my hand. “Wow. He knows how to keep the mystery going.”
“Yes, he does.” In the days now turning into weeks of feeling as if I’d been watched, I wasn’t entirely certain how to deal with the invitation.
Yes, I was eager to see him again. What girl wouldn’t be after being swept off her feet, but the noise inside my head suggested his actions weren’t entirely on the up and up.
“Maybe something is wrong.”
“A ‘mystery date’ sounds romantic in movies, but in reality, it just means I don’t know if I’m going to be underdressed or murdered.”
“Now who’s being highly dramatic? He didn’t drag you into the hotel’s pool after ravishing your body the other night. Right? If you’re worried about him finding your address, anyone with money can do that easily, girl. Come on. Or he could have contacted his buddy and found out.”
“On his honeymoon?”
She grinned, handing the invitation back to me. “If he’s that interested, why not?” A few seconds later, she laughed. “Don’t let what I said about psycho boy bother you. You don’t use your real name in your new chosen profession. But you told Mr. Tempest your name. Right?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And he does live in the same city.”
As always, she was right. “True.” The word had a more lilting tone than before.
“A rose. Sending a car? A mystery date? Come on, girl. This is what fantasies are made of. You of all people should know that by now.”
Her logic was sound. “You’re right. Now, the real crisis.”
“Which is?”
“What in the hell do I wear to a mystery date?”
Every time she offered one of her sinful grins, I knew I was in for trouble. “That you can leave to me. Come on. Let’s get started.”
My friend was right. The invitation and all the mystery surrounding the man, his personality, and the date could be considered the perfect fantasy.
Only even in dark romances, there was always the villain determined to destroy all happiness. I only prayed I hadn’t fallen headfirst into a dark cloud of evil I’d never dig my way out of.