Chapter 18
CHANTEL
Nervous energy pulses through me when I read Bran’s confirmation that he’ll meet me tonight.
We’ve been texting throughout the week, and it’s been a welcome reprieve from the chaos inside my head. But now…it’s real.
This is going to happen, and it’s what I wanted. Yet for reasons I can’t explain, I still feel tormented by the man currently occupying too much of my space.
We’ve hardly spoken since the night at the club, and logically, I know it’s for the best. But, of course, when the time comes for me to leave and I try to slip out unnoticed, he’s in my living room.
He glances up at me mid-conversation with someone on the phone. His eyes slide over my black bustier-style dress, and his face remains an impenetrable mask. I imagine this is the same expression he wears while poring over spreadsheets in his office.
“Hold on,” he murmurs into the phone as he meets my gaze. “Ready for your hot date?”
The indifference in his voice settles into the hollow of my stomach, but I manage a clipped response.
“Yep.”
An awkward beat of silence passes before he simply nods. “Enjoy your night.”
My stiff legs carry me out the door, and I don’t look back or bother to remind him I won’t be home tonight. Clearly, it makes no difference to him.
Outside, Bruno picks me up and delivers me to the IVI building downtown. I check in at Sanctum, and the hostess verifies my credentials. I’m handed a mask, key, and robe, then she sends me on my way.
I slip on the mask and carry my overnight bag through the club, walking with a singular purpose as I weave my way through the crowd. When I reach the corridor with the private suites, I find our assigned room and unlock it quickly.
After I close the door, I press my forehead against it and release a shaky breath. I don’t know why I’m so anxious. But somehow, things feel much different than they did when I invited Bran here.
Regardless, I set down my bag and familiarize myself with the space, which is the same as I remember. Suites are assigned based on what’s requested. The options are endless, but Bran and I have always kept it simple. This one has a bed, a club chair, a bench, and an ensuite bathroom and shower.
The walls are painted a deep merlot color, and the low crimson lighting bathes the room in anonymity, softening everything at the edges. An oversized round bed dominates the center of the room, the black-tufted headboard curving upward in scalloped arches.
On the bar cart, there’s a selection of fruit and chocolate, chilled champagne, and the mini fridge is well-stocked with a variety of beverages. But there’s something else that captures my attention on the small table in that same corner of the room.
It’s a matte black gift box with metallic silver writing across the top. As I get closer, I can see the word “dea” imprinted there.
Curious, I open it to find a pair of stacked silicone bracelets connected by a stainless steel chain. Together, they can be worn on one wrist to look like jewelry. But when attached to each wrist, they function as cuffs.
I recognize them because I’ve had them on my wish list for a while. The idea of everyday jewelry that can be used in a pinch has always appealed to me. But I never trusted Marco to utilize restraints, whereas Bran knows from my preference form that he has my explicit consent.
It sends a tiny thrill through me, but beneath that, something else lurks in the back of my mind.
How did he know I wanted these?
Of all the restraints he could have chosen, the chances he’d buy the exact style and color I saved seems like a stretch too far.
It’s something I could overanalyze, but right now…I just don’t want to. So I stack the bracelets on one wrist and secure them, filing the question under problems for later.
Once that’s done, I dim the lighting and choose a playlist on the tablet.
Since I arrived early, I have time to settle my nerves, so I pop the champagne and pour myself a glass. After stripping off my dress and heels, I slip on the silky black robe and pace around the room while I wait.
I’m trying not to think about the other man who takes up too much real estate inside my head. But there’s no denying that’s exactly where this restless energy is coming from.
As I’m in the middle of that thought, the door opens with a soft click, and the breath rushes from my lungs.
I stand there, frozen, my heart racing as I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m so nervous, I can’t even turn to face him.
Silence hangs heavy in the air as he closes the door, sealing us in the room together.
He doesn’t seem to move, but I can feel his gaze on me as he waits me out.
Eventually, the tension becomes too much to bear.
“I’m sorry.” The words tumble out. “I’m a little nervous.”
“Talk to me,” he says.
His voice is too low to be distinguishable, but my body responds all the same.
I consider how honest I want to be. But then I remember that, in the beginning, Bran told me I should always be honest, even if I didn’t think he would like it.
“I still want to do this,” I tell him. “I’m just having a hard time getting someone out of my head.”
I realize how ridiculous it sounds as I say it. Cristian doesn’t care that I’m here, so it shouldn’t feel like I’m doing something wrong. I just hate that he’s gotten under my skin.
This isn’t me. I’m immune to catching feelings, and I prefer it that way. I like my life without complications, and I swore I’d never let a man twist me up inside. But somehow, he has.
“Is it couch guy?” Bran asks.
I wring my hands together as I try to recall what I told Bran about Cristian. I briefly remember referencing him during our video call, and I’m pretty sure I used the words ‘hot and virile’ to describe him.
“He’s invaded my whole life,” I complain. “And if that wasn’t bad enough, now he’s in my head too.”
An unsteady exhalation falls from Bran’s lips. “He’s on your mind now?”
“Yes,” I answer reluctantly. “I’m sorry. I just need a minute, and then I’ll be ready.”
“I don’t care.”
“What?” My stomach sinks as I consider he might end this before we even get started.
“I’ve waited this long to have you.” His voice roughens. “I won’t touch you until you ask me to, but I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh.” I swallow. “Okay.”
How is it possible that simple declaration kick-started my heart?
Now I’m having unhinged thoughts, like he could fix me.
With his quiet restraint, he’s brought all of our memories rushing back. The way he handles me like nobody else ever has. His strength. His calm. His endless patience.
When we first met in this club, I was still traumatized, and admittedly, hopeless. After my baptism by fire, I’d been with another man, thinking I could somehow wash away the first one. And though that man was nice and gentle and all the things I thought I should want, it did nothing for me.
I came here to explore my desires and overcome my fears, but deep down, I didn’t really believe anyone could actually help me.
I was wrong.
It was Bran who showed me what true safety felt like.
He was the one who proved that I wasn’t just a vessel for a man’s pleasure.
He helped me learn how to use my voice and communicate what I want. With him, I could be vulnerable, and in doing so, I was able to embrace this part of myself without shame.
He gave me something I never thought I’d have.
I trusted him.
Even when my fears got the best of me, and I ran, he never took that away.
He’s been a steady presence in my life. An anchor in my chaos, and tethered to him are the parts of myself only he knows.
As I sit with that, I’m overcome by emotion. Because he didn’t have to do any of it. He didn’t have to spend an entire year with me when he got so little in return. I don’t know why he did it, but I’m just grateful that he did.
Without him, my world would still be so dark.
Longing sparks deep inside me as I untangle my fingers, suddenly aching with the need to touch him. We said we’d have one night together, and this is it. I don’t want to waste more time trapped inside my thoughts. I just want to be with him.
Gathering up my courage, I slowly turn to face him, and my breath catches. In a strange way, it’s like seeing the ghost of the man who has haunted my dreams for so long. But there he is, in the flesh—every towering inch of him.
Anticipation thrums through my veins as I soak in every detail, starting from the ground up.
Immaculate black leather oxfords gleam beneath the red light, the mark of a ruthlessly composed gentleman. Sharp tailored trousers sit low on his hips, molding themselves to his long, muscular legs.
Before, he always arrived in a suit and tie, but tonight, he came prepared to claim. A black button-down shirt stretches across his broad chest and shoulders, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the collar left open at his throat.
His presence dominates the space, a man so deeply masculine, he’s captured me with a single glance. I forgot how viscerally he affected me, but now, it’s impossible to ignore.
As my gaze travels over the mask and the shadowed lines of his jaw, a shiver of awareness crawls up my spine.
In this room, the color of his eyes is indistinguishable, and his features are softened at the edges.
The red glow preserves his identity more than the mask alone ever could.
But there’s an undeniable pull between us, and it doesn’t feel like something reawakened.
It feels like something that’s always existed.
My heart thumps erratically as we stare at each other, and my lips part. For a second, I find myself chasing that thought…and then I crush it entirely.
I take a breath and focus on what comes next.
A reel of possibilities flashes through my mind, offering up too many ideas at once.
I want to run my fingers through those dark strands of hair.
I want those large, rough hands gripping me tight.
I want to get down on my knees and worship him, finally surrendering to the craving I can’t cure.