29. Sage
SAGE
That is the question, isn’t it?
What do I believe?
Do I believe I can be the woman my parents raised, and also be the woman I was this evening?
It’s one thing to attend a masquerade where one man kisses my neck and another fondles me.
It’s another thing to let two men enter my body. In succession.
This evening in Cole’s office overlooking the city is like a pendulum in my heart. It’s the swing from one Sage to the other.
Which one will I be?
I felt like a different person. A different woman. Like I was stepping into a new land, crossing a border, entering foreign territory.
But I don’t have to cross it alone.
I can share. I tell Eliza pretty much everything. I tell her what happened with the rock stars, how I marched to The Invitation, how I stormed into Cole’s office, how I asked them to fuck me on the balcony.
Her eyes go wide, hungry, savoring every dirty detail. When I’m done, she fans herself. “That’s kind of ridiculously hot.”
I roll my eyes, grateful to feel light in this moment. “You also thought it was ridiculously hot when Jackson and Stone were into each other.”
“Yes. I did. Because that is hot too. Also, no shame, friend. There is no shame at all in what we think is hot. And I’m kind of an omnivore. I think a lot of things are hot. I think two men into each other is hot. I think two men just into you is hot as well.”
That’s the thing—it is hot. But is that enough? “True. But should I base my decisions on sex? On my own craving for something I haven’t had before?”
She lifts a brow, taking a beat before she answers. “Is that the issue though? Or is there something else going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Because I don’t think sex is the issue.”
I arch a brow, a little confused. “You don’t?”
“Look, I think it’s part of it. I do. But I also think that there are other factors at play. Because desire is desire. Love is love. Sex is sex. People like it different ways.” She exhales deeply. “Is that truly what you’re struggling with? Because I’m not convinced.”
I don’t answer right away. I ask myself the same question. Is the type of sex my issue? To some degree, yes. But to some degree, no. I close my eyes, rewinding through the day, through how I felt, through what I longed for.
Was it the desire that ate away at my soul? Or was it something else?
I remember my rage—misplaced, but rage nonetheless—when I stalked over to Cole’s hotel.
And in an instant, I know the heart of the matter.
I open my eyes. “It’s him. It’s Cole. All these things I feel for him. And it’s trust,” I say heavily. But also lightly too. Because that’s what I’m truly struggling with—can I trust my competitor? And more so, can I trust my new lover?
Eliza smiles, nodding. She is such a wise woman. “This is about trust. You’ve had your trust broken. You’ve seen it violated. That’s what eats away at you.”
“It’s trust in everything. Because I have to trust that man across the street with my body and, increasingly, by the minute, as I fall harder for him, with my heart,” I say, as awareness dawns on me.
“Exactly. And you want to know, as you explore these brand-new desires, if he’s a man you can trust.”
She’s hit the nail on the freaking head.
I thought I trusted Derek. And he broke that trust in a terrible way. He broke it in a public way. He humiliated me.
That’s a big reason why I worry so much about my reputation. My perception.
Derek exposed me by revealing to the city that the man I had chosen was cheating.
Can I trust anyone?
And . . . can I trust myself?
But I know the answer.
I can trust if I choose to.
Trust is a choice.
Love is a choice.
Sex is a choice.
We get to choose whether we act on our desires, or whether we entertain them in our minds.
Whether I act on them or not, I am them.
I am this woman.
I am all of these women all of the time. I am a woman of the city. I am the CEO of a hotel. I am my parents’ daughter. I am a sister. I am a friend. I am powerful. I am submissive. I am all of me all the time.
Do I know myself enough to trust Cole with my desires and with my heart?
I meet Eliza’s eyes. “Can I trust myself with Cole?” But I don’t let her answer.
Because I know the answer. I say it aloud to give it the power it deserves, the weight he’s earned.
“He’s demonstrated trust every time. From the first night with him.
I feel safe. I feel adored. I feel wanted.
I feel cherished.” I draw a deep breath.
“And I also feel respected. Every time I’ve been with him, he shows me respect.
In the way he touches me and the things he says.
He always seems to know where I am every step of the way.
And every step of the way, I feel respected.
I feel respected with how he wants to honor my desires.
How he’s obsessed with them. How he lets me in. ”
She grins.
It’s not wicked. It’s more like she’s so damn delighted.
Perhaps I am too.
Delighted to be understood. To be seen. To be respected.
That night in the limo was indeed a revelation, and it wasn’t because of the sex. It was the talking. It was the closeness. It was the way we both seemed to get under each other’s skin and into each other’s heads and inside each other’s hearts.
Do I trust him with business?
He hasn’t stolen from me any more than I’ve stolen from him. We are not backstabbers. We are not underhanded. We aren’t enemies.
We are competitors through and through.
Perhaps we always will be. This city is always going to be powered by business, and I am always going to be a businesswoman. That’s just how it goes. The issue isn’t whether I trust him.
The issue is whether I trust myself.
That’s what I tell Eliza. “Am I willing to trust myself again after my heart has been hurt? After I’ve been publicly humiliated, am I willing to put myself out there?
Am I willing to be in a relationship that is going to be on display?
That is going to be scrutinized? Am I willing to do all of that and say, this is the person? ”
Part of me wants to wait for Eliza to give an answer. But that’s not the purpose of this speech. The purpose of this speech is for me to give an answer, and my friend knows that. With a stoic expression, she waits for me.
I stand, drawing a breath, feeling a new dose of power. Power in my sense of self. I stride across the living room then back to her. “I trust him. What I do behind closed doors isn’t the issue.”
“You’re right, friend.” And she smiles, like a teacher when the student understands the lesson.
The question is, can I be with him in public? Because that’s what I want. I want to be with Cole Donovan. And not just in a way where I could be caught—though I do love that. But in a way where I could be seen .
“This is a chance I have to take.” I give her a hug. “Thank you for helping me see what I needed to see.”
“You learn things when you’re ready to learn them. Go get your happiness, friend.”
When I leave Eliza’s building, I take my phone out of my purse and send him a message.
Sage: Can you come over? I’d like to see you. I’ll text you the room number and elevator access code.
When I reach my suite at my hotel, he’s already there waiting for me.