Chapter 16
LILA
The house is empty without him.
My life is empty without him.
My future plans? Uncertain.
Of course, my meetup with Frankie never happens.
We speak on the phone on Sunday afternoon, and I sense relief in his voice when I tell him that, after careful consideration, I think we shouldn’t meet.
He’s not stupid.
He probably knows that my decision has to do with Damon.
On Tuesday, Keira suggests that we meet after work and grab a bite downtown.
We’re having dinner at our favorite burger joint when her phone rings.
Chewing on my food, I eavesdrop on her conversation.
After a string of clipped words, she hangs up.
“My coworkers have drinks at a bar not far from here. Would you like to come?”
“You wanna go?”
She takes a bite of her food and chews thoughtfully.
“Yeah. I’d go if it’s all right with you. I’m in no hurry to go home.”
I peer at my plate.
“Me neither.”
She notices the dissatisfaction in my voice, so she speaks again.
“Things all right at the house?” she asks, prompting me to lift my gaze.
“Yeah. Things are fine.”
“But?”
I smile.
“They’re both gone.”
“Shouldn’t you be happy that you don’t have to see them?”
“I am happy. I have the house for myself.”
“But?’
I laugh.
“Stop saying but.”
“You sound upset.”
“I’m not.”
“Are things good with your new family?”
Her empathizing of the last few words makes me roll my eyes.
“Please. You know how I feel about her.”
“I surely do, but you like him,” she says, waiting for me to confirm her suspicion.
I stay quiet.
“He’s a dangerous man,” she says after a few moments.
“I’m fully aware of that.”
“How come you know that? Has someone talked to you about him?”
“I know about his past. Frankie shared a few stories about him. What about you?” I ask. “How do you know about him?”
“A woman at work told me that her family was in a feud with this man. He has quite a reputation.”
I finish my food, run a napkin over my lips, and drink my soda.
“What kind of reputation?”
“What did Frankie say about him?”
I ponder whether to tell her about Damon’s twisted relationship with Henrietta. How he’d been with her before she married my father. How the two of them have had a toxic relationship, and are in a fake marriage now.
It’s too long a story, and inevitably I’d need to offer her more information about my real relationship with Damon, which is not something I’m ready to talk about.
“He described him as a territorial, possessive man,” I say.
It’s good enough, I think.
“Someone you can’t cross,” I go on.
She nods along.
“That’s what my coworker said as well.”
I make no comments. What she’s saying concurs with what Frankie said to me. It’s what I’ve noticed so far.
He’s not the man you want to fuck with.
He ‘punished’ me because I talked to Frankie.
And then he licked my pussy until my eyes rolled back in my head, but maybe that’s the thing about him.
His anger and sexual arousal walk hand in hand.
“He seems the vengeful type,” I say and suck in a short breath. “So, are we going now?” I ask, eager to talk about something else.
“Yeah, yeah. Let me finish this.”
She drinks the rest of her soda before we leave the place.
Minutes later, we approach a tiny bar with a nice terrace. I’m glad she signals me to follow her outside.
It’s quieter, and we can actually sit at the table and hear each other.
Her friends sit around the table.
One man catches my eye. I spotted him in Keira’s photographs.
This must be Nicky slash Benjamin. The guy who doesn’t like his name.
He’s tall, lanky, and wears a vintage T-shirt.
It’s a cliché, but his glasses only make him look even more nerdish.
Keira introduces me, and I happen to sit next to him.
We are sort of forced to strike up a conversation.
I can tell he’s not entirely comfortable with the idea of sitting here with me with a beer in front of him.
He seems to loosen up a little when we start talking about college and our plans for the future.
By the time he orders another beer for himself, he asks me if I’d like another drink.
He pays for my drink, and Keira looks at me like a proud mama.
I wag my finger at her when he’s not looking.
That’s the thing with shy men. They’re like beautifully wrapped chocolate bonbons.
Beyond their shy appearance lives a man who can’t wait to impress you with their unassuming demeanor and perfect manners.
I’ve always thought they were the safer choice. The crazy man who sweeps you off your feet and never follows through could never appeal to me.
Or so I thought.
All I know now is that Nicky and Damon West couldn’t be more different, and while I’m here listening to Nicky, I still get flashbacks of the man who dragged me into the basement and used my body to satisfy himself.
The more we drink, the friendlier we get with each other.
Nicky is a nice guy.
We all knew that, and since I have so much experience with his type of man, he feels confident enough with me to be himself.
Later, Keira, Nicky, Jeff––another coworker of hers––and I walk out of the bar. We call a cab and reach her place sometime after nine.
The improvised party of four continues until eleven when I signal that I’d like to go home.
Nicky offers to take me home, but something makes me say no to him. My refusal is polite and comes with innocent justifications such as I’m a guest in someone else’s home, the staff is still there, and neither of us would feel comfortable having drinks at that place.
The reality is, I can’t let him take me to Damon West’s house.
He doesn’t deserve to be harassed by Damon just because some stupid camera recorded us arriving together at his place.
I’m not saying Frankie deserved that, but Frankie, at least, had a good grasp of who Damon West was.
If Nicky met Damon, he’d probably still be in therapy a year from now.
There are no hard feelings when I say goodbye to all of them and leave.
I reach the house a little later.
I use my remote to open the gate and walk toward the house, pondering yet again what Damon had said to me before he left.
Why would a man say that to a woman? That his place might be mine one day?
Even though I know it’s a way to keep me interested in him, curious about him, and thinking about him, a tiny part of me asks, what if he meant it?
What if what he said to me that night at the club when he begged me to stay wasn’t him acting either?
What if what seems to be serious is serious?
That’s the problem.
If these things are what they appear to be… If they’re real… I’m in a more dangerous situation than I thought I was.
I’m also in danger of not understanding who this man truly is and how he can affect my life.
It’s easier to say he’s tricked me.
It feels safer.
A trick has a short shelf life, while a real desire to consume someone can be lethal, metaphorically speaking.
I enter the house and make a beeline for the refrigerator.
I’m hot from all the time I’ve spent outside. From all the drinks I’ve had. From all the walking.
Since I don’t have to wear a uniform at work, I dress whichever way I like.
My short rayon dress with a scoop neckline, a flare skirt, and buttons at the front is perfect for this weather.
Even though the fabric feels cool against my skin, I’m still burning inside.
I gulp down half of the cold water, drops trickling down my chin and chest.
The pool is too warm for me right now.
I sort of slow down, still drinking water, still enjoying the fresh sensation and the wet trails cooling my skin, when a muted sound drifts over from the entrance, and a man’s arm wraps around me from behind.
His other hand slides over my mouth as I scream deliriously and drop my water to the floor.
He laughs in the back of my hair while I drown in panic.
Frantically, I move his hand away from my mouth.
“Damon? For fuck’s sake. How can you do that to me?”
“Who did you think it was?” he says, running his hand straight through my neckline, ripping off several buttons, making my top fall open, exposing my chest.
He kneads a boob with passion, tilting his hips against my lower back so I can feel his hard-on.
“No one. But still. I thought no one was in the house. Didn’t you say you’d be gone?”
“I said that…” he murmurs, distracted, dragging his hand down, then up my skirt, and then right inside my panties.
He moves two fingers over my clit, and I soften like a week-old banana, and lean back against him while he strokes my pussy.
“My schedule is fluid, as you may as well know,” he says, taking pleasure in how nicely I arch my spine and rock my hips against his touch. “Where were you?”
His voice is comforting and misleading as he presses himself into me and grinds his hard cock against my lower back.
“I went out with my friend.”
“Out? What did I say about going out?”
I laugh at the chiding in his voice.
“You said many things, but you weren’t here. Besides, I didn’t sleep with anyone. Did you?”
He laughs, amused.
“I’m asking the questions.”
“How convenient.”
“So tell me…” he murmurs. “Have you been a bad girl all this time?”
He plays with my pussy, his hard length throbbing against my back. I feel it through his pants.
“Define bad girl.”
“Talked to someone else?”
“I talked to someone else.”
“Who was he?”
“I won’t tell you.”
“Lila Skye?”
“Damon?”
He kneads my bare breasts while stroking my clit.
“You want to know that truth?”
“Always,” he says.
“I thought about you and what you said to me when you left.”
He suddenly stops and takes his hands away from me before nudging me to turn to him.
His hand slides onto the refrigerator as he leans forward, his eyes moving through me like fire.
“You thought it was a pickup line?” he asks.
“It crossed my mind.”
A secret grin arches his lips.
“Life can be weird sometimes. You never know where it can take you. That’s why I said what I said. You read too much into it.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Good. I’m glad we’ve clarified that,” he says, his eyes sliding down at my bare chest and my dress as it’s barely clinging to my hips. “Drop to your knees. I want your beautiful lips wrapped around my cock.”