Chapter 36 Sloane
Sloane
I’m lying on my sofa, curled up in my favorite dark green plush throw, watching my favorite horror film reruns.
Riven helped me bathe after fucking me to within an inch of my life.
He was so … gentle. He’s a paradox. The perfect mixture of the dark and the light, blending into a grayish space.
And I think that I really love the color gray.
After the bath, he kissed me goodbye and took off for the meeting that he was late for, thanks to our little side quest. I sigh.
I am sated.
He has the stamina of a bull and the body of a Greek God.
I am so sore that I think I am actually wobbling around from his massive dick like my book boyfriends constantly threaten to do to their FMCs.
I giggle out loud at the thought, absolutely getting a kick out of Riven’s jealousy of them.
I rub my thighs together and wince, reminding myself that he was there.
I want to do it again. I really am such a psycho.
“You said it, not me.” The angel has returned to sit upon my shoulder and judge me for all of my sinful acts on Earth. I glare at her in my mind and then flick her right off.
I may be sated and sore, but even more so …
I am happy.
Like, really freaking happy. The connection between Riven and me is wild and reckless, but at the same time gentle and unwavering.
There’s a tug that pulls me toward him even when he isn’t near.
There are also those three little words that keep rearing their heads, trying to escape my lips unannounced.
I don’t know why I don’t just say them. Well, actually …
I do know. I am an utter control freak who keeps all of my inner thoughts on the inside under lock and key, carefully allowing them freedom only when I deem necessary and in perfect circumstances.
Why must I be like this? I hear the stream of thoughts parading through my brain.
What if he doesn’t feel the same?
What if it’s too soon?
What if you get hurt?
What if. What if. What … if.
I rub my palms into my eyes until I see stars, huffing out a sigh.
It must be karma for flicking the little angel onto the floor, because I suddenly remember that I don’t exist alone in a bubble with only Riven.
I remember that I have several problems that need addressing in my life right now.
I don’t have the time to think about whether Riven feels the same.
I have to make room in my mind for my dead fa—Gideon, for Sabel, and the Eden Frequency.
I have to make room for the suspicious earpiece and Lydia.
I consider my options for exposing Sabel and Sonus Corp.
I could go the legal route and obtain an actual interview.
I could sneak in and snoop around her office, illegally.
One option carries more risks than the other, but offers the premise of a higher reward.
I consider asking Lydia, only to answer for her in knowing that she’d one thousand percent be sneaking into Sabel’s office if given the chance.
I, however, am not Lydia. I’m not spontaneous and fearless.
I need plans, outlines, and control. So, I’ll be setting up an interview the legal way.
I sigh again, this time in displeasure over the multiple scenarios playing out in my head.
Not one of them ends well, and I hope that I’m at least half wrong about my theory and that Van wasn’t lying about his lack of involvement.
I wince at the thought of Van. I genuinely hope that he’s doing well and that he and the guys truly find a way to put a stop to Sabel before the release of the Eden Frequency.
I could play a hand in her demise. Even though Van and Alex have attempted to warn me off.
I’m a big girl. I can handle myself. Right?
I need to get Sabel alone and interrogate her.
It is, after all, what I do best. If I ask all the right questions in all the most indiscreet ways, then she’ll never even suspect that I’m onto the fact that she’s a cold-blooded, murderous bitch.
I don’t even want revenge for Gideon, I just want the truth.
That little elusive thing that all investigative journalists seek to unveil.
I reach for my phone, pull up the search engine, and type in “Sonus Corp” to get the number.
I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lower lip.
I open my eyes and hit the call button before I can change my mind.
The phone rings a couple of times before the voice of an older woman filters through the phone.
“Sonus Corp. How can I direct your call?” she says, all business and no play.
“Hi. Can you connect me with Sabel Matthews, please?” I ask.
“One moment,” she says. Elevator music starts playing over the line, and several seconds go by before I hear another female voice.
“Sonus Corp. Who am I speaking with?” I’m searching my memory, trying to remember what Sabel sounded like that night at the meet and greet.
“Hi. My name is Sloane Keenan, with Obsidian Press. I was trying to reach Sabel Matthews.”
“Ms. Keenan, Hi. Sabel is out of the office at the moment. Can I take a message?” Just my luck.
“Yes. Can you let her know that I called, and I was hoping to set up an interview to further discuss Reverb? I interviewed Van recently and would like to hear from the face of the company who helped Reverb rise to fame.” A partial truth that I hope she buys.
There’s a brief pause that I hope means she’s writing this all down before I hear her voice again.
“Got it. I’ll pass that along. What’s a good callback number for you, Ms. Keenan?
” I silently breathe out a sigh of relief and then rattle off my number to her before ending the call.
I set my phone down next to me and direct my attention back to the show I was watching before my mind wandered off.
Before long, I’m dozing off into a dreamless sleep.
? ? ?
I wake in a daze to the sound of my phone ringing.
I squint my eyes at the assaulting sun filtering in through the living room window.
I blindly pat around the sofa for the phone that’s now assaulting my eardrums. It suddenly occurs to me that I must have fallen asleep after calling Sonus Corp, and that Sabel must be returning my call.
I manage to get my eyes to fully open to see “Lydia” on the screen.
I peek at the time on the phone before answering, noting that I’ve been asleep for three hours. I hit accept.
“Hey,” I say, groggy.
“Lo! Hi. Why do you sound like you just woke up?” She practically screams into my eardrum. I pull the phone away from my ear and sit up, stretching.
“Because I did. I fell asleep on the sofa. Late night.”
“Oh, really? Can’t wait to hear what the professor did to you this time.”
I sigh. “Shut it.”
She interrupts my “What’s up?” with her “So the reason I called is …” We both laugh.
“Do you remember that high-profile client I told you about? The one that I had to schedule for an early morning?” she asks.
“Yeah?” I ask, confused about why this had to be a phone call.
“Well, you aren’t going to believe what she told me.” Her voice is laced with excitement, the way it usually is when the salon drama is at an all-time peak. I sit up, intrigued by the new Hollowcrest gossip that I’m about to become privy to.
“What?” I ask enthusiastically.
“Well, first, it turns out that the client was none other than Sabel freaking Matthews!” I nearly stop breathing, and it’s followed by a too-long pause.
“Lo? Did you hear what I said?” she asks.
“Y-yeah.” I suck in a silent, deep breath. “What else did she say?” I need to know that Lydia isn’t in danger.
“She was talking about this huge show that Sonus Corp is planning with Reverb! Like, babe, I’m talking stadium show.
She said that the smaller venues aren’t going to cut it now that they’ve grown such a large fan base.
She said that the next show will be unlike anything that anyone has ever seen before.
” She sighs, like this news is music to her ears.
“Then she started yapping about an Eden something and saying that she thinks this show will be the pivotal moment for Reverb.”
“Eden … did she say frequency?” I press.
“I don’t know, maybe? I was checked out at that point. I mean, Lo, our boys have made it. This is seriously the best news. And I left out the best part.” There’s more? I don’t like this. Before I can ask her what other amazing news she wants to burden me with, she starts talking.
“We got VIP tickets, Lo. You are so fucking welcome,” she shrieks. VIP again? If Sabel invited her, then it must be to get to me. And that must mean that Sabel knows I’m still an outlier. Shit.
“You … did?” I ask, slightly terrified of actually having to attend this thing. I also find myself worrying about Van and what it could mean for him to have to play this show. What if he isn’t able to stop her in time? Why do I still care? Sometimes being this empathetic is a curse.
“Yes, because I am a boss babe. Aren’t you excited?” she asks.
I consider her question. Do I come out with how not excited I am now, or do I let this play out and hope that everything comes to light before the show?
“Yeah, of course I am,” I force a tone that doesn’t call me out as a liar. “Did Sabel say when it will be?” I ask.
“A couple of weeks. She said she was meeting with Reverb today, actually, to give them the good news.”
Good news? I force back a scoff. Lying to Lydia isn’t something that I enjoy doing, but when it’s for her benefit and her safety, I’d do it every single day.
“Great, can’t wait!” I exclaim. I need to change the subject, now. “Have you heard from Callum?”
She laughs. “Nope, I think I might have scared his broody ass into hiding.” She pauses. “Little does he know, I am so good at seeking.”
I laugh. “Oh God, you aren’t going to chase him down and force him to be your boyfriend, are you?” I ask, jokingly.
“Who me? Never.”
“Lydia! You are going to traumatize him,” I say, laughing.
“Maybe he could benefit from a little traumatizing,” she says mischievously.
“I am both fascinated and afraid, and I don’t want to know any of your plans. You and I both know I am shit at secrets, and I’m afraid I’d slip up and blab to Riven.”
“My lips are sealed, babe.” She pauses, and I hear a car engine starting. “I just left work, I’ll talk to you later, and you can catch me up on all things Mr. Naughty Professor.”
“Bye, Lydia,” I say, hanging up the phone.
I’m not sure what to do about this whole show ordeal.
I pull up Van’s number not once, not twice, but three times before swiping it away and deciding it’s not a good idea to talk to him.
If Lydia had her gossip correct, then Van already met with Sabel, and he knows about the show.
I feel so helpless sitting back and waiting for the pieces to fall into place, but I don’t want to drag Van back into my drama.
I’ll handle this on my own. I stand, shutting off the TV, and head toward the stairs.
This situation calls for a long, hot bubble bath.
Once I’m upstairs and in the bathroom, my phone rings. I look down at it on the bathroom vanity and see “Unknown Caller.” I almost send it to voicemail before considering that it might be Sabel. I swallow, take a deep breath, and hit accept.
“This is Sloane Keenan,” I say.
“Ms. Keenan. Hello. This is Sabel Matthews with Sonus Corp. I got your message, and I’d love to meet with you for an interview.
How’s tomorrow at two pm sound? We can meet at Sonus Corp.
I’ll shoot you an address after this call.
” Her voice is as I remember it, sophisticated with a hint of patronizing condescension.
“Yes, that time would be great. I’ll be there,” I confirm.
“I look forward to meeting with you,” she says before the line goes silent. A few seconds later, my phone dings with a text of the address.
Okay, then. See you tomorrow, Sabel Matthews.
? ? ?
After my conversation with Lydia and Sabel, I took a very long bubble bath to clear my head before heading back downstairs.
I’m considering ordering takeout as I pull out my phone to search local food options.
My traitorous fingers find my messenger app instead.
I tap, pulling up my and Riven’s conversation thread to send a quick text.
Sloane: Hey, you. How was your meeting?
I resume my food search, deciding that I want Thai.
Then, I realize that several minutes have passed since I sent that text.
I find it slightly odd, considering that Riven usually texts back quickly.
Maybe his meeting ran long? I place my order and back out of the app without submitting the order, planning to wait for Riven to answer back.
Several more minutes go by with no response.
I do not want to be that girl, but I pull the message thread back up and send another text.
Sloane: I’m ordering in. Wanna join? I promise there will be dessert. (;
I internally face-palm, but quickly decide that I’m proud of myself for my bravery.
I put my phone down and grab the remote, picking up where I left off on Halloween Kills.
I’m consumed by the horror, and before I know it, the movie is over.
I grab my phone and pull up the message thread again, sighing at the unanswered text. He’s probably busy with …
I sit up, realizing that I never asked him what “meeting” he was attending.
I was so distracted by his hands, his mouth, and his other blessed body parts.
For all I know, he could be a recovering addict attending his twelfth step.
I’m suddenly panicking at how little I know him.
My mind is in overdrive, and instead of calmly telling myself that he was likely attending a meeting at the college where he teaches, I decide that he was for sure meeting with the underground mob.
I hate how much of a worst-case-scenario person I am.
I take slow, cleansing breaths to silence the reckless chatter inside my mind.
This is Riven Reilly we are talking about.
Psychology professor at Blackthorn University.
Good in heart, and great in bed. Although I’m not sure what that last part has to do with the “why you should give him the benefit of the doubt” list that I’ve assembled in my mind.
Nonetheless, it’s most certain to go on the pro list.
Once a couple more hours have passed of me opening and closing our text thread, I decide that I’m not getting a text back.
I also decided that Riven has many more pros than cons, and therefore cannot be the villain in this story.
I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.
I pull up my food delivery app and submit my order that’s still waiting in the checkout box.
Once it arrives, I eat my Thai food alone with my thoughts and without dessert.