Chapter 6
CAL
The most interesting thing happens when you meet the makers of a monster.
All the pieces of the horrific puzzle that is them fall into place, and you can finally make sense of them. Finally see that their selfishness and entitlement isn’t a mistake, it’s a learned behavior. A weapon they were taught to wield and were rewarded for using successfully.
Aubrey’s list of rewards is long and vast, ranging from things as grand as the presidency to something as small as one of his arms around the back of Selene’s chair while she picks at the lunch he insisted she share with him and his parents after their joint appearance at Belmont High.
Chip and Arlene Taylor are everything you’d expect the parents of a man like Aubrey to be.
Chip is quiet vulgarity dressed in an expensive suit, and Arlene is poised submission wrapped in an understated dress and string of pearls.
When you put them next to their son, they’re the picture-perfect American family.
The only thing that doesn’t fit is the melanated goddess among them.
Everything from the glow of her skin to the sadness behind her eyes sets her apart.
While they laugh boisterously and talk about how handsome AJ looked in the photo the school had displayed in the gym, she mourns him silently.
It’s infuriating. How they look right past her.
Talk around her. Pretend her pain isn’t palpable.
Real enough, raw enough, big enough to fill up the entire private dining room at the back of Dahlia’s—an upscale Asian fusion restaurant Aubrey eats at often.
Maybe it isn’t to them.
Maybe I’m the only one here who cares enough to see it.
If Beck were in here instead of with the cars, he’d see it too.
We’d share looks from across the room and vow right then and there to add this moment to the long list of things we have to atone for when we finally have her back in our arms. It’s longer than I’d like, and I hate not knowing when we’ll be able to start checking things off it.
If we’ll ever be able to start checking things off of it.
I shake my head, banishing the thought as soon as it’s fully formed.
The key to surviving this is staying positive.
It’s looking ahead to the future and keeping an eye out for glimmers of hope in the present.
My glimmer comes seconds later, appearing in the form of Selene excusing herself from the table to go to the restroom.
Agent Morgan—Shaw’s right hand—steps in immediately to escort her, and I hold my breath as they approach the open doorway I’ve made my post, willing Selene to look at me even as I force my eyes away from her.
She doesn’t, and I know that’s probably for the best because Aubrey is watching.
He’s paused his entire conversation with his father just to witness the pain it causes us to be this close to each other and act like we don’t know what it feels like to be closer.
What he doesn’t see, though, is Selene drop her hands to her sides as she passes between me and the wall.
He doesn’t notice my pinky stretching out, the single digit straining for the faintest bit of contact, and he damn sure doesn’t catch how hers does the same.
The fleeting touch sends shock waves through me, but I remain expressionless even as Selene gasps quietly, leaving me with the small, private sound as she disappears down the hall.
Aubrey’s smile is a dark curve of satisfaction as he turns back to his parents. He picks up the glass goblet filled with sparkling water and takes a long sip, continuing the conversation they were having before Selene left the table.
“Don’t get me wrong, the plaque is nice, but I think I’d like to see my son’s memory represented in a much more significant way.”
Chip cuts another slice of his ribeye and pops it into his mouth. “I agree. Having the President’s son sharing a memorial plaque with everyone else seems distasteful.”
“Exactly!” Aubrey agrees. “They’re building a new sports complex. I think the Aubrey Taylor Jr. Stadium has a nice ring to it.”
“Well, I’m sure Principal Mathers would be more than happy to discuss different options,” Arlene chirps, taking a dainty bite of her salad.
She chews slowly and swallows with a napkin covering her mouth, wiping the corners when she’s done.
“She seemed quite fond of you, Aubrey. You could have Jordan invite her to the State Dinner. It’d be the perfect way to endear yourself to her even more. ”
Aubrey appears to be intrigued by the idea until his father shakes his head. “Why on Earth would he do all of that when he can just write a check and have her do whatever he wants, Arlene?”
The woman’s response is lost on me, drowned out by Agent Thorpe’s voice flowing out of my comms. “Secretary Barnes is on site with four men who refuse to show identification. Dower and I attempted to block entry, but the Secretary insisted to be let through. They are heading your way now.”
Turning toward the door, I lift my wrist to my mouth, pressing down to activate my microphone. “Are you fucking kidding me, Thorpe?”
Dower is the one who responds. “She insisted, sir.”
“And I might insist on putting my foot up your ass, Dower, does that mean you’re just going to bend over and take it?” Beck growls. “Drake, hold tight, Shaw and I are coming inside.”
“Negative. Hold your position while I assess the situation.”
Moments later, the situation walks through the door.
Cordelia is first, waltzing through the door and past Agent Morgan who has just emerged from the short hall to my right that leads to the bathrooms where, as far as I can tell, Selene still is.
Morgan catches my eye, silently asking if she needs to engage.
I shake my head, stepping into the center of the hall and stopping Cordelia and her cronies in their tracks.
“Madame Secretary, I’ve been informed by my agents that your guests have refused to show identification.”
She glances over her shoulder at the four men who pretty much all the look the same to me.
They’re all white with short cropped hair with non-descript, but expensive, suits draped over their muscular frames and bored expressions.
You would think they crash the private lunches of world leaders every day.
“They prefer their privacy,” she drawls, turning back to me with a smug smile.
“Privacy is their right. Holding court with the President without proper vetting is not. If your guests refuse to comply with security protocol, I’ll be forced to have them removed from the premises.”
There are so many things I hate about the job Beck and I worked our asses off for, but more than anything I hate instances like this when honor and competence override my desire to see Aubrey dead.
I don’t know who these men are or what they’re here for, but it’s a very slight, but real, possibility they’re here to kill him, and here I am, standing in the way because I swore a fucking oath.
One of the men sniffs, drawing my attention.
He’s standing closest to Cordelia, and now that I’m really looking at him, I notice he’s older than the men behind him, who are in their mid to late thirties.
There are streaks of gray starting at his temples, running throughout his dark brown strands, and harsh lines at the outer corners of his green eyes.
Impatience radiates off of him, but he doesn’t say a word, allowing Cordelia to do the talking.
Her chin rises defiantly. “I vetted them. Now, if you’ll excuse us—”
She tries to side-step me, but I anticipate the move, blocking her with ease. “Your guests need to identify themselves.”
“That won’t be necessary, Agent Drake,” Aubrey says, his voice carrying from the end of the hall. I turn to find him standing there in the same spot I occupied just seconds ago, his expression stricken.
My jaw turns rigid. “These men have not been properly screened. I cannot guarantee your safety.”
My warning holds no weight. He barely acknowledges it as he waves Cordelia and the men through.
They file past me as if their entry was a foregone conclusion and I was nothing more than an unnecessary obstacle.
Aubrey greets them all with a strained smile, instructing them to get comfortable at the table before shifting his focus back to me.
“Give us the room,” he barks, disappearing into the dining area.
Frustrated, and more than a little confused, I’m left with no choice but to follow the order. I head down the hall, meeting Morgan at the opening she hasn’t moved from.
“Who the hell are they?” she asks, voice pitched low.
“I have no idea.” And truthfully, I don’t care.
Aubrey can entertain as many unidentified subjects as he wants.
It doesn’t matter to me. All that matters now is their sudden appearance has created an opening for me and Selene that I am going to take.
Agent Morgan follows my intense gaze down the short corridor and sighs.
“I’ll keep watch.”
“He wanted total privacy so stay out of sight and update Shaw and Beckham so they don’t come rushing in,” I tell her, already heading toward the bathroom. My steps are quiet but hurried, and I make it to the door just as Selene is coming out of it.
Her eyes go wide with surprise when she sees me, and I place my hand over her mouth to stop her from saying anything.
“Everything is fine, but we don’t have long, okay?” I whisper, backing her into the bathroom.
She nods, heels clicking softly against the jade green tiles that cover the floors and walls. I kick the door closed with my foot and remove my hand from her mouth.
“Are you crazy?!” she whisper-shouts as I lock the door. “You can’t be here, Cal. He’ll know.”
“He’s occupied.”
“Occupied? With what?”
It’s been so long since I’ve been alone with her, since I’ve found myself wrapped in the scent of sugared wild berries and cherry blossoms. Desperate for more than a passing whiff, I step into her space, taking her into my arms and lifting her up until I can plant my nose in the hollow of her neck.
She shivers against me, cradling the back of my head in her hands to hold me in place.
“Occupied with what, Cal?” she asks, her voice part fear and part desire.
“Cordelia,” I sigh the witch’s name into Selene’s skin. “And some random men. Aubrey told us to give him the room.”
“But you came in here instead.”
“I needed to see you.” I pull back, wanting an up close view of her stunning features even though they’re laced with sadness. “How are you doing?”
Tears gloss over her eyes, making the puddles of toffee in her irises shimmer. “I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be to be there. I didn’t know they were going to have his face…” She swallows, twisting her lips to the side to stop the sob trying to claw its way out of her. “Can you just—”
She doesn’t even need to finish the request. I lower us to the floor, tucking the hem of her dress in so it doesn’t get dirty then pull her into the tightest hug possible. She hugs me back, returning a fraction of the pressure I’m giving as her breaths slow and then stop altogether.
“Is it too much?”
“No,” Selene gasps, lungs expanding as they fill with air. “It’s perfect.”
I’m always afraid that I’ll hurt her, but I’ve learned to trust her knowledge of her limits. We sit in perfect silence for a long while, until she finally taps my shoulder, signaling for me to let her go.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “It’s all I’ve wanted all day.”
“I know.”
The desire was so clear on her face. The need to retreat to the safety of my arms evident to me from across the room. I didn’t know then that I’d get to give her that today, but I’m so grateful I got the chance.
With her palms resting on the tops of my shoulders, Selene pushes back, allowing me to see a different desire taking over the lovely lines of her face. Heat dances in her eyes as she lowers her lips to mine. “Now, I want something else.”
“Selene, I don’t—”
“Please, Cal.”
Her hands are already at my waist, deft fingers working to undo my belt. I want to say no, to tell her we don’t have enough time, but she’s kissing me again. They’re slow, languid kisses accompanied by strokes of her tongue that stoke the fire burning in the pit of my stomach.
“Fuck it,” I groan, hands fisting the fabric of her dress until it’s up around her hips. My fingers rush over the smooth, taut skin of her thighs, loving the way her muscles tense and relax under my touch.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she moans softly, fumbling with my zipper. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” I tap her hip with my left hand. “Lift up for a second.”
She does as I ask, and I make short work of freeing my dick as my heart tries to pound its way out of my chest. It’s been so long since I’ve been inside of her, and I almost lose my shit when she lines the wet heat of her pussy up with my tip.
“Fuck.” My head falls back when she slides down onto me, walls already rippling with the promise of an impending orgasm as she takes my full length in a single motion.
Selene whimpers, biting her lip to hold in what I’m sure would be an earth shattering moan as she swirls her hips, dragging her clit across the exposed skin of my lower abs.
I grab her waist, digging the tips of my fingers into her sides to get her attention.
She fixes a wild, lust-filled gaze on my face, and I’m sure I’m nothing more than a mirror, reflecting that need and desperation back at her.
“Look at me when you ride me, pet. I want you to see exactly what this pussy does to me.”
Her walls clench around me, and I buck up into her, laughing darkly when she curses.
“I’m on top,” she growls, swooping down to give me a kiss that ends with her biting my bottom lip. “That means I’m in charge, Drake.”
If I had a response, which I don’t, I wouldn’t be able to vocalize it because as soon as Selene is done putting me in my place, she starts bouncing on my dick with an urgency that’s as familiar to me as the curve of her exquisite lips.
Everything about us has always been rushed.
Condensed. Big feelings packed into small interactions, overwhelming desire stuffed into forbidden circumstances.
This moment is no different—I mean, it’s a quickie on a bathroom floor of a restaurant with her husband and in-laws around the corner and one of my colleagues keeping watch—and yet, we treat it like it is.
Every kiss is a discovery.
Every wet glide of her pussy over my shaft a revelation.
Every moan a sacrifice to the gods in charge of happily ever afters for desperate fools who risk life and limb for love.