Chapter Eight
VIOLET
Soft, warm lips kiss me awake, and I stretch in the cocoon of Cade’s arms.
There’s nothing like waking up surrounded by him, with his kisses, and I want to go back to sleep to experience the pleasure again.
But I can’t. I need to get on the train and go to see my professor about the new internship, and what I can do in the meantime, while they try and find me one. I’ve got a feeling it’ll take a while, and I both mind and don’t.
I don’t mind because it means more time with Cade, but I mind because I don’t want to lose more time for the opportunity of going for my PhD.
But last night, I fell asleep while I was working, and then I guess Cade took me to bed, but I kept waking without him.
I kiss him back, savoring his caresses. “What time is it?”
“What time do you want it to be?” He kisses my nose. “Fool around time, work time, breakfast time?”
“Go to college time.”
He sighs, rolling away and getting up. “I’ll arrange an escort to and from school for you.”
“I don’t need an escort. In any iteration of the word.”
Cade gives me a half smile. “I mean someone to make sure you’re okay. I need to work today, or I’d be going with you.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“You could work from home? Remote learning is a thing. You—”
“Cade…” I sit up, cross-legged, in his bed. “I need to go in. I’m not made of glass, and I think we both know I’m not the target.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
But I’m also not letting bad things dictate my life.
I’m already aware that apart from my crashed out, adrenaline-drained sleep the other night, sleep is hard.
When darkness comes, so do the memories, the reliving. And my stomach lurches.
I close my eyes, and that cold of the cement seeps in. The soft, lost voice of the girl returns.
And good sleep? Real sleep? It’s only there when Cade wraps himself around me and holds me close.
Or maybe I just like him that much.
“It’s a morning thing, and I might meet Lia for lunch. I’m not going to ask if it’s okay, because I’m not asking for permission. I’m letting you know.”
He looks at me, and it’s like The Ghost has appeared and taken over. The unseen. A mask.
I don’t know what he’s thinking as he blandly watches me a few moments. Then he nods. “Let me know when you’re ready to go. I’ll walk you to the subway.”
The thrill that he listened to me makes me jump up and throw my arms around him.
I pepper his face with kisses. “Thank you.”
“Go shower. I’ll be in the kitchen.” He heads out as I can’t help but watch his retreat, the tight ass in his jeans.
He looks good. No matter what he wears.
The bruises are still there, obviously, but he’s not going to scar, although… The man would own a scar.
What am I thinking? I don’t want him hurt. I just think I’d like him no matter what.
I wait for the panic to set in as I turn on the shower, but it doesn’t. There’s just warmth inside me.
I’m not sure if I should be full of angst, of doubt, of…something other than this warmth and euphoria when I see him, think of him.
It’s new, like this love that’s washing through me.
I strip off and get in the hot shower, letting the water hit me, holding my face to it like I’m washing away all confusion and worry over Jean as I get ready for another day. Let myself be cleansed by the inevitable pull to Cade, and the warmth he sets off inside me.
Or maybe it’s everything that’s happened, or perhaps I’m just so used to convincing myself life was good with Jack, I’m not used to this.
It could also be trauma bonding. But that doesn’t sound right.
I shampoo my hair, massaging my scalp.
I wasn’t traumatized when I met Cade. And I wasn’t traumatized when The Ghost started contacting me.
Maybe lust glazed? Maybe turned on in new ways that tore me a little between the two sides of Cade.
I know I should be mad at him. Madder than I’ve been. Because even with omission, he lied to me. About who The Ghost was, who he is.
Rinsing my hair, I apply conditioner.
Then again, he’s the same man. Two sides, one for my fantasies and the other for real life. Real life that’s a different set of things. Not fantasy, but elevated from the day-to-day with anyone else.
I let the water wash away the conditioner and then I get out of the shower.
I’m not sure The Ghost thing is anything more than two people with the same dark desires coming together and then finding they’re more than compatible in real life.
They’re attracted to each other.
But the truth is, I liked him long before I knew he was The Ghost.
All that did was complicate a growing attraction and affection.
It’s a lot to unpack, but it doesn’t remove a speck of the warmth.
I dry off, dry my hair, and get dressed. Then I text Lia.
Me: Hey you. Wanna grab something to eat?
Lia: Girl! Where have you been? I texted. I want you to spill the tea on those Isaac photos!
I haven’t even checked my messages. I know there are heaps of them. I’ve only checked emails from the school.
Being in a photo where a known politician is beaten down and then arrested is going to bring people out of the woodwork and my phone’s messages attest to that.
Me: Lunch? It’s not much…
Lia: No go on lunch. Drinks I can do. One or two. McClafferty on 48th?
Me: Got a meeting with my prof. After? Around midday?
Lia: Deal!
She’s not going to rest until she gets the full story. Thing is, I don’t know the full story, so I need to make what I can give her perfect.
Professor Fisher taps her pen on the desk as I sit opposite her.
“To get into the PhD program you’ll need to at the very least do another three weeks, minimum, in a political office.”
I nod, trying to think. I’m going to be set back, which is annoying, but I do have time. I’ve accelerated my courses, it’s just this stuff, the boots on the ground learning, that slows everything to a halt.
“And what’s available?”
She hands me one sheet of paper.
“The top ones are those willing to consider taking on a Master’s student this late in the internship game.” She shrugs. “Not every office wants to baby along a student.”
“I don’t think I need babying.”
“Your work at Isaac Stengal’s office was exemplary, and you have glowing references and letters from half the staff. But with Mr. Stengal gone, and all that scandal, a few who were willing dropped out, and others just don’t take on interns.”
Shit. “What else could I do?”
“Travel. The rest of the page are the top people I’d consider interning with if I was you and none of the Tri-State people work out or fit.”
I look at the page. Florida. Nebraska. West Virginia. Pennsylvania. The last one is probably the most appealing, until I look at the area. Rural.
Sure, some people go for those jobs as they’re meant to be easy. But I want a challenge. I want to intern in a place that marks me as someone destined for big things.
And while I’d take a genuine job somewhere like one of the places listed, for one of the candidates listed, the impact I have as an intern is nothing compared to what I’d have with a real job.
For me, the where and the who are the most important thing, and Professor Fisher knows it.
“There’s this, too.” She hands me a three-page list. “These are the ones who don’t have interns. Here in New York, from even smaller than Isaac, right up to mayoral candidates. The governor is intern-free, too.”
Her gaze flickers to me. “I’ve included twelve of the twenty-six New York congress reps, too. They don’t have anyone, and some say they never want one, but have in the past.”
“Thank you.”
“The last page is New Jersey and Connecticut. And you’re welcome to find one on your own, too.”
“Thank you, Professor Fisher.”
She sits back, removes her glasses, and looks at me. “I don’t think I need to remind you that your political leanings don’t matter right now. It’s always good to find a candidate whose ideals line up with your own, but that’s for when you start making a name.”
“Understood.”
“I’m not saying align yourself with the next Mussolini, just temper your beliefs with what the job really is.”
“Thanks, Professor. Really.” I hold out my hand.
She shakes it. “Good luck, Violet. I think you’re going to do great things one day.”
I leave her office, smiling. This time, I don’t even mind that whoever it is Cade had follow me is still here, in a hood, like a student on his way to class.
The guy follows, and there’s a beat of doubt.
I know he got someone because when he took me to the train and I turned to wave as I got on, I saw his gaze flicker to a guy with a hood over his head, hands in pocket, who got on when I did.
I’m sure he got off at my spot, but it’s hard to tell in a sea of generic black hoodies.
So, this is him.
Right?
I can’t help but think of how last time I thought it was The Ghost, it turned out to be Isaac—
Who is now dead.
Breath claws at my throat.
My phone buzzes.
Shaking, I pull it from my pocket.
Cade: Adrian texted. He’s keeping an eye on you for me. Black hoodie. Right behind you.
And though I know Cade can’t see me real time, at least I think he can’t, I turn and sure enough, the guy’s still there. He gives me a thumbs up as he starts to type on his phone.
Cade: He says he thumbs upped you.
I scowl, even more nervous, a little tingly, like the start of being tuned on.
Me: Are you watching me?
But it isn’t Cade who responds, and the fact it’s so quick, it turns me all the way on.
Ghost: Do you want me to?
I let out a shaky breath as heat coils through my veins.
Thing is, I hear the change in pitch.
It’s impossibly hot, wildly confusing, and makes perfect sense.
I can taste him.
Cade is the darkness of The Ghost. He is The Ghost. But when he plays…oh, it’s so delicious.
Me: Can I stop you?
Ghost: One way with one word. Always.
Me: I like you watching.
Ghost: Because you’re filthy, dirty. And mine.
I have to stop.
If I don’t, I’m going to embarrass myself right here by coming without even being touched.
In the middle of the street.
Me: I have to go, I’m—
Cade: Meeting Lia. I know.