Saturday, February 11
Nicholas had a flashback as he wandered in front of the panoramic windows, a second glass of scotch in hand. His memory spat it back at him—not in black and white, but in vivid color.
Who would have thought he’d be driven wild by the old cliché—the girl next door? She possessed the power to do that to him. That diminutive thing.
Growing up, Angelica matured into a sexy, wild-haired woman with a curvaceous figure. She never realized she had what it took to drive a man crazy. She was so na?ve. He had to want her.
He counted the days until Angelica would be his. When she turned seventeen, he couldn’t take it any longer.
If it hadn’t been for the damn sleet, he would have had her on their first date.
He never imagined sleet would come between him and Angelica.
But the next night, he took her in the back seat of his Camaro.
He couldn’t even wait until they reached his apartment.
He knew what he wanted, and hell, he wanted Angelica.
He couldn’t get enough of her and had no intention of letting her go.
Then, six months later, the “incident” occurred. She slammed the damn door in his face, told him she hated him—words now all too familiar—and that she never wanted to see him again. Angelica shocked him. Nicholas never imagined she’d say no or walk away.
He spent twenty months trying to win her back.
Desperation eventually overtook him. She finally opened the door when he got down on his knee and proposed on her front step.
But Angelica refused to let him touch her until they were married.
All those months apart, he just about lost his mind when they started dating again.
He was twenty-nine damn years old, and touching his fiancée had become taboo.
Angelica wanted an August wedding. Women and their damn wedding plans.
He wasn’t waiting until the heat of summer, when he was in heat.
He offered to pay for the wedding himself, and they married four months later, in January.
Long enough for the invitations to be mailed and the RSVPs to be returned.
They adopted their daughter, Sofia, when his wife was twenty-four.
Sofia was a newborn, and a lawyer handled the adoption privately.
He owed Angelica that much. Funny, Sofia resembled her mother at that age, except for her blue eyes.
He’d never been keen on kids, but not falling for his daughter proved impossible.
She stole his heart. He became the obnoxious kind of dad who talked nonstop about his child.
Then, one year later, in less than 24 hours, his life collapsed.
That evening, he switched off the light in his office and glanced over his shoulder at the empty couch. Not tonight, he told himself. He had to get home. They had plans.
As Nicholas folded himself into his two-seater, freezing rain began to fall. Because his sports car wasn’t suited for winter driving, he decided to take the local roads rather than the highway to play it safe.
The roads were deserted, and all the stores were closed as he drove. When he stopped at a red light, he noticed someone huddled under the awning across the street at Pressed Your Way Dry Cleaner. It was a girl, hopping from foot to foot, trying to stay warm in a hoodie.
He rolled down his window. Did she need a ride home?
She was staying at a motel and tended to drift.
Was going to meet a dude she met online later in the capital.
Nicholas offered to take her as far as the bus depot in Treetop.
She nodded. He turned his car around. She hopped in and thanked him for stopping.
Hitchhiking was her usual mode of transportation.
She shoved her hood back and rubbed her hands together for warmth.
He pressed a few buttons on the dashboard to turn up the heat.
Even in the dark car, he could see she was cute, with short, spiky blonde hair and a small diamond stud in her nose.
Maybe eighteen, nineteen. Shapely. Definitely hip.
So he made her an offer. He asked if she wanted to earn a fast hundred bucks—doing stuff on the wild, kinky side.
Her eyes gave him a quick once-over. “Why not? You look pretty sexy to me. I could do kinky with you.”
They ended up in his office. She shed her clothes and got on the couch. Looking for just a quickie, he only took off his suit jacket and tie, pulled off his belt, and lowered his zipper.
After a few minutes of warm-up and touchy-feely, they got right to it.
Wasting no time, he set the next step in motion by sliding his hands around her neck.
It was easy; his hands were large, and she was small.
He loved hearing women gasp and feeling them squirm as he did his thing.
The harder the pressure, the more she gave him what he wanted.
Apparently, she was in her element, super turned on, which turned him on.
Like the hum of a fast sports car, he lived for the sounds. They were the ultimate arousal. In return for his efforts, she moaned and wildly swayed her hips. Wow, this girl could really move. She had the motions of someone using a hula hoop. Sweat broke out on his brow and across his chest.
His hands and hips worked in tandem. Then she started clawing at his chest. If she wanted to play rough, he was game.
He was the king of rough sex. He kept doing everything harder and stronger, trying to keep up with her gyrations and untamed fingers.
Sweat dripped from every pore and trickled down his face as he accelerated into double time.
Triple time. Clenching his teeth, he felt as if he had a launching rocket behind him and had to outpower it, outrun it. He couldn’t stop.
He was lost in her. Lost in the moment, losing track of time, reason, and rationale.
Never in his life had he experienced such euphoria, and he didn’t want it to end.
When he finally exploded, he collapsed on her, exhausted, releasing a massive sigh.
God, this chance encounter had spoiled him for life.
How would he top this girl with no name?
Perhaps he could convince her to stay around.
Get her an apartment. Get rid of the other women.
When his head stopped spinning and his heart stopped pounding, he pushed himself away from her, stood, and walked into his private bathroom to straighten his clothes.
He looked terrible. Forget his rumpled hair.
His sweat-soaked shirt clung to his chest as if he’d been caught in the rain.
He’d have to get himself together before going home.
Did he have an extra shirt in his coat closet? He hoped so.
When he returned to his office with a couple of well-earned hundred-dollar bills clutched in his fist, she was still where he had left her, lying peacefully. He tapped her arm.
“Wake up, kid. I have to drive you to Treetop.”
She didn’t move. Not her arm, not a leg, not even her brown eyes. He tapped her again, harder. Then it hit him. The crisp bills fluttered to the carpet.
Oh, no! God, no! This wasn’t his fault. It couldn’t be. She said she liked this. Did it a lot. Perhaps she had asthma, COPD, or some terrible illness. She was very thin. Could have happened with any guy. Probably with the guy she was meeting later. So, why the hell did it happen to him?
Panic overtook him. He had never panicked in his life. He was known for his resilience and tenacity, not for weakness or fault. He couldn’t call 911; he called Dominick instead.
“I need you at the dealership now!” he shrieked.
“Can’t come, Nick, I’m watching the boys tonight.”
“I messed up. Get over here!”
“If it’s between you and my kids, my kids come first. Sorry, no can do.”
“When can you get here, Dom?!”
“Noon, one-ish tomorrow. Got Connie’s grandmother’s funeral at 9 a.m.”
Shit!
The freezing rain had long since stopped by the time he handed his car keys to the condo valet under the porte-cochère.
A quick ride up in the elevator found him face-to-face with a furious Angelica as he entered the condo foyer.
Her parents had come for dinner, brought her a birthday cake, and left hours earlier.
“You promised you’d be home by seven, Nicholas. What was so important that you couldn’t come home early, just once, for me? You’re not a brain surgeon. No one’s having a heart attack or dying, for Pete’s sake.”
Angelica wasn’t through. She was just getting started.
“But another woman would explain everything! Explain why you stumble through the door at this hour, looking so disheveled. You think I’m an idiot, don’t you?
I’m the wife who’s prayed non-stop for you to change, but you can’t.
You’re an addict. I shouldn’t have married you.
I’ve never really counted in the scheme of things.
I was just the plaything you kept on the home front, while you cheated on me elsewhere.
But I’m not playing this game anymore. Go find a new toy! ” Angelica roared.
She stormed off to sleep on the daybed in Sofia’s room.
Your life is pretty effed up when your wife is ready to throw in the towel, and one of your family cars is parked in the reserved spot at the dealership, with more than the baby’s stroller in the trunk.
And your wife’s birthday gift is back at your office because you forgot to bring it home for when she blew out the candles on her cake.
It was more than effed up. It was crumbling around him.
He left a note apologizing to Angelica. He should have called her.
Had car trouble. Begged her to keep the lunch plans they’d scheduled for noon tomorrow.
He’d make it special. Oh, hell! He couldn’t change the plans now.
He didn’t want to end up in divorce court, and he needed to see Dominick, his fix-it man.
The guy adept at burying things Nicholas had no use for.