Chapter 4
Light
This is fine, right? He is a regular at the gym, so this should be okay. And he knows Big Mike, I justify, as I have the quickest shower ever.
After letting him in and getting him settled in the lounge area with a bottle of water, for lack of anything else to drink, I practically ran off. And then it dawned on me when I was alone that I left a stranger unattended in my house while I mucked about in the bathroom.
I pull on some jeans and a black top, the dress code given to me by the same man who has occupied my thoughts incessantly for the last couple of hours.
It's been a couple of months, actually, since I started at the gym. From the first moment I saw him, I was a bit obsessed. And now he is here. In my house. With me. All alone.
I thought he might be the man from the club, but when I mentioned it earlier, he didn’t fess up, so I think they are not the same person. Which is a pity. I wish they were.
But at least now I have two men in my repertoire of fantasies. Men who would remain just that , I think gruffly, eyeing myself in the mirror. They belonged with tall, slender, elegant women, not frumpy, quirky, clumsy bookworms.
After pulling my hair into a high ponytail, I venture out of my bedroom, walking smack-bang into a hard chest. Déjà vu of the man at the club assaults me, and I step back, looking into dark brown eyes, so rich they remind me of my favorite dark chocolate.
His gaze travels my face and lands on my ponytail.
His mouth twitches, and I touch my hair, wondering if the style is inappropriate for waitressing.
I thought it was practical. But what would I know?
I last worked as a waitress at university, fifteen years ago.
Also, what kind of a club had waitresses?
Usually, there’s just a bar from which you order.
Doubt starts settling in. Was I too old to be doing this?
“What's wrong?” His brow furrows as his eyes roam my face. Geezus, how astute was this guy? It’s like he can read my mind.
“Nothing,” I say, laughing. “I was just wondering if I’m too old to work at a club.”
“You’re only thirty-five. And you look closer to twenty-five. You will be fine.”
He turns around and walks towards the front door.
My heart blooms at the compliment he cast my way so frivolously. It’s like hearing a song verse that sticks in your head for days. You wake up humming it. You go to sleep singing it. Until you are sick to death of it and googling ways to forget. This would be one of those situations.
As I repeat the words in my head again, it dawns on me.
“How do you know how old I am?”
He waits for me as I lock the door, and then I follow him back to his car.
“I saw the birthday card on the table. Was it your birthday recently?” He opens the passenger door for me, reminding me of his warning earlier.
When he said ‘don’t,’ it sounded exactly like the same, and only, word the stranger at the club said to me. But I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it and perhaps projecting my desire for him to be that man.
“It was two days ago,” I say before he closes my door. I settle in, putting my seatbelt on and inhaling deeply. Even the smell in the truck reminds me of my mystery club man.
It occurs to me that the stranger has become a big part of my life. I wonder if he has discarded the interaction, which was significant for me, as a simple and brief exchange not worth remembering.
“Did you do anything special?” Damon glances at me briefly and nods slightly when he sees my seatbelt is on before starting the engine.
“I was supposed to go out with my friend Gloria for a quiet dinner, but she canceled at the last minute. But I don’t mind. I spent the night reading a book on my Kindle with a bottle of wine.” I smile, hoping he doesn’t pity me.
Most people's reaction when hearing this is to blame it on my lack of friends or the fact that I am an introverted loner, which I am.
What they don’t understand is that I chose this. And I continue choosing this.
I don’t like having many friends—I never have—because I find them high maintenance. James understood me.
He knew what I wanted and would organize a small dinner, just him and me. Sometimes, his parents would join. That was what I liked on my birthday.
“Perfect for you.” Damon's words surprise me, and I wonder if he is being sarcastic, but when I look at him, his face is as serious as usual.
“Yes, exactly,” is all I can say.
“Did you get any gifts?” His question makes me smile as my hand finds the pendant on the necklace under my shirt.
When I got home from the bookstore on the morning of my birthday, a small black box was sitting where a white envelope usually awaited me. I practically ran up the steps, the smile on my face nearly splitting it in two.
As always, I looked around, hoping to glimpse the mystery man. But no one was about besides the little old lady next door, asleep in her rocking chair on the porch.
I popped open the box, lifting the folded note to reveal a beautiful, dainty necklace with a stunning black heart-shaped stone hanging from it.
I couldn’t tell what gemstone it was, but instinct told me it was expensive. Perhaps black opal.
Regardless, it came with the first letter that didn’t contain seeds or referenced flowers.
Even the blackest hearts reach for the light. Wear mine close to yours. Happy Birthday, my Sienna x
My mind told me I should feel scared, but my heart just couldn’t wrap itself in that emotion.
And so, without hesitation, I put it on.
It felt almost sinful. Like I was accepting this man, becoming his, whoever he was.
A permanent fixture now, like the ring my father gave me that sits on my right index finger.
“Sienna?” Damon’s voice breaks me from my thoughts, and I blush, lowering my hand.
This is the second time he has said my name, and how it rolls off his tongue does something to me. Six letters that sound different put together than at any other time in my life.
Is it possible that a name can belong to someone, created for only one person to say, and the rest of the time, people just borrow it? Practicing until the owner finally arrives.
That’s what it felt like when Damon said my name. Like I was hearing it for the first time.
It finally fitted me when it came from him.
Damon glances at me again, reminding me that I haven’t answered his question about whether I got any gifts for my birthday.
“Sorry. Yes, I got one. But it was worth a million.”
His gaze meets mine briefly, and my eyes drop to the corner of his mouth, which lifts slightly as if he is going to smile. I would love to see that. He is gorgeous now. Imagine then.
Critters awaken in my stomach again, and I shift in my seat, the heat in the car rising a notch.
“Good. You deserve only the best.”
I don’t question such a strange statement, but instead, we continue in silence until, eventually, he puts the car in park and switches the engine off.
I’m surprised at how easy being in a car with him is. I thought it would be uncomfortable. My attraction to him was beyond anything I have ever felt. The word ever slicing into my heart where James resides.
It was different with James. We knew each other from school and then in uni. We were friends first, and then the relationship developed. The chemistry between us was great, or so I thought.
But when I compare it to Damon, it’s like swimming in a shark-infested sea with only a tiny blow-up dingy and a storm on the horizon. I don’t know what is going to happen, and that excites me. Makes me feel real and alive.
Damon opens my car door, and I blush, thankful he cannot read my thoughts. He would probably think I was a whack job.
The cold outside is refreshing, cooling my heated skin .
We are at the back of a large building. Only two other cars are parked in this area, one on either side of us.
I would have to get the location from him later. I was not paying attention when we drove here. Wherever here was.
“Is the club closed?” I ask him, as we approach a door with a keypad next to it. One he places his palm on before typing in some numbers.
“No. This entire building is soundproofed. Hand,” he demands, holding his out to me.
I offer my right hand to him, and he grasps it lightly, placing it palm down on the pad.
A blue line moves from the top to the bottom of the screen, scanning my palm and flashing green once done.
He removes my hand, and the door opens with a click.
“You will only enter and leave through this door. Always. No matter what. Got it?” he queries, his sternness eliciting a sharp nod of my head.
He enters, and I follow. The sound of music is now heard but buffered somewhat, probably because of the soundproofing.
We are in a long corridor, painted black and dimly lit by long fluorescent light bulbs.
The floor is covered in thick black carpet, not like the kind you find in an office building but more like the kind you see in a lawyer's office.
It screams money, not a piece of lint gracing its luscious surface.
I look back, checking to ensure my comfortable Converse sneakers have not left a mark. I would hate to make a bad impression on my first day.
Black doors with numbers starting at one alternate from left to right, about three meters apart, ending at seven.
We get to the end of this passage and take a left down another long passage. This place was like a maze, and I lacked direction.
I’m walking so close to Damon that I walk straight into him when he stops abruptly in front of a red door .
“Sorry.” He stares at me long enough for me to blush.
“You apologize too much. Don’t.” That word again. Don’t.
I smile instead of saying anything. His orders do something to me that I don’t want to analyze right now.
He places his hand on the scanner next to the door, and it clicks open, revealing a lush office inside.
I step further into the room, and the sound of the door clicking shut behind me makes me jump. Once again, I am alone with this enigma of a man.
“I’ll be a minute.” He turns around, already removing his hoodie before disappearing around the corner, the sound of a shower heard seconds later.
A few feet away, Damon is naked.
The thought sends a pool of warm heat to my core, and the ache that has been there since the gym resurfaces with a vengeance. In Damon's presence, I feel like a ping-pong ball, moving from one emotion to another with a speed that is exhilarating and scary.
I spin on my heel, determined to distract myself. A bookshelf in the corner catches my attention.
If I was hoping for a distraction, this was definitely a bad idea.
My finger runs up the spine of a black book before hooking in the top and pulling it out.
Instead of putting it back when I see the title on the cover, I gingerly open it, allowing fate to pick the page I land on.
The Milk and Water Embrace
My eyes fly over the text and land on a picture.
A man sits on a chair while a female straddles him, her back to him while he penetrates her from behind.
I continue flicking through the pages, position after position, indecent pose after indecent pose. Yet I cannot put the book down .
“One of my favorites.” Damon's voice, close to my ear, makes me jump, and the book lands on the floor with a loud thud.
“I’m sor—” The apology hitches in my throat as I bend down to retrieve the book, my eyes locking on smart black shoes.
My gaze travels the length of the custom-made black suit as I slowly rise. My heart rate must be loud enough for him to hear—it’s thundering in my ears.
Gone is the five o'clock shadow, and in its place is a jaw that can cut diamonds. His shoulder-length brown hair is pulled up into a ponytail, revealing tattoos up his neck at the back and wrapping around to join ones in the front.
Damon before is hot, but this is lethal.
As is the look in his almost black eyes, the dilation of his pupils leaving little room for the dark chocolate of his iris.
“Are you enjoying the book?” His voice is low and gravelly, like sandpaper brushing against a nerve between my legs.
I blush as he slowly takes the book from me, his eyes never leaving mine.
“We should go. Unless you want to start practicing some of these moves.” My blush deepens, and I shake my head, unable to speak.
He leans forward, his body inches from mine, as he slides the book back in place behind me.
He smells clean and…familiar.
Before it has time to solidify, he pulls back, and I take a deep breath.
“Come.” He turns abruptly, and I follow like a puppy as we exit his office.
He waits until I am beside him before we walk again, my eyes glued to the plush black carpet while his occasionally sweep the left side of my face. I know because his gaze is like little sparklers touching my skin .
As we approach the door at the end of the corridor, where the music is loudest, Damon stops and turns to face me.
“You can only ever be this trusting with me, Sienna. You entered here, not a question passing your lips. You barely know me yet invited me into your home, have come to a building I’m sure you don’t know the location of, and were alone in an office with a stranger while he showered.
From here on out, as we enter my world, I want you to be careful.
Not everyone is good—even me.” His hand gently grips my chin, his thumb caressing my jawline before he releases me and turns, his palm meeting another pad next to the door.
Before I can ask more questions, the door opens. To a world I didn’t know existed.