Authors: Lena Black
“A new kind of fairytale,” I retort.
“Yes, minus the glass slipper and talking rodents.”
I giggle and snuggle into him, my arms tucked into my body. We lie blissfully for a few moments, Hunt tickling my back and tender ass until he announces, “We better clean up and get going. I thought we could grab lunch and take care of one last errand before the funeral.”
“Why won’t you tell me where we’re going?”
“It wouldn’t be a surprise, then, would it?”
We reluctantly get up and ready to go. He
shoves some mystery objects from the chest and closet in a black duffle bag, and we leave.
W
e eat lunch at a café and then head to the secret location. He drives while we listen to a lovely Classical ballad. Violins gently serenade us, accompanied by an intense Bass. They almost seem to be speaking to one another.
“What do you think?” Hunt inquires, coming to a red light.
“It’s beautiful and soothing. What is it?”
“Mozart’s,
‘Piano Concerto No.21-Andante’. Do you listen to Classical music?”
“Yes, I adore it,” I reply, easing back into my seat.
“My parents are music enthusiasts. They introduced my sister and I to a wide range of genres.”
“We should go to the Opera House to watch a program. I’ll look into the schedule and get us tickets.”
“Us. I like that word.”
He gently brings my hand from my lap to his lips.
“T
he second most mesmerizing word in the English language” He kisses the back of my hand slowly, sensually. “Your name is the first, of course. Do you know the meaning of your name?”
“Yes. It’s of Hebrew origins, meaning, Heroine of God.”
“Like I said, you’re an angel, my guardian angel.”
“What does your name mean?”
He has this infectious grin. “Well, it’s widely associated with Lucifer. It’s Greek meaning, to tame; subdue.”
My astonished face darts to his. He has a wolfish grin while his soft lips graze my hand.
“Are you fucking with me?”
“No. Why would I fuck with you?” He stares at me with a pained,
far-off look. “That seems to sum it up. A devil trying to subdue a wounded angel.”
“That’s shit. You’re not a devil, and I’m no angel. I think in the sex department we’re on common ground.
However, I do agree about the subdue part. It suits you, slick.”
I can’t catch it before it shoots out. My eyes grow large.
“It’s ok. I rather like it as long as it’s coming from your mouth.”
The
light turns green, and he drives on, hijacking his focus from me and planting it back onto the road. At least I can keep mine on him.
He makes a razor-sharp right turn, exhibiting
Scars ability to take a corner. My palm flies up, splaying on the roof as the other bears down on the dash. Hunt finds this funny, laughing like a carefree young man getting immense joy from scaring the crap out of his girlfriend. I glare at him, stifling a smile.
We drive a few blocks
, before parking in front of a store with no name and dark tinted windows. I’m taking off my seatbelt, when Hunt announces, “I’m going in alone.”
“Why can’t I come in?”
“Because I said so. Stay here.”
He’s decided,
his expression severe, lips set in a tight line. Hunt’s back and he’s not to be messed with. I cross my arms, glaring out the front window. He exits quickly, and my eyes follow him around the front of the car, watching him disappear into the unidentifiable building.
He really knows how to push my buttons, but I know he’s controlling. I would have to be an idiot not to understand that by now. He hasn’t been too horrendous the past seventeen hours or so, but I have yet to officially agree to his proposition. He may be waiting until then to show me who truly lies beneath those mysteriously wounded, emerald eyes.
He’s only inside for a few minutes when he emerges, hands void of any bags or items.
What the hell did he pick up?
He slips in
to the car with his usual effortlessness and sits there for a moment.
“I was going to give you this later, but now seems to be the right time.”
He sets a white velvet ring box on the dashboard in front of me. He leans back and watches me reach for the box with hesitation. I palm it and place my hands in my lap.
“I’m sorry for acting like a pouty child.” I sigh. “I’m really not sure I can accept this from you. I’m just not comfo…”
“Oh, shut up and open the box.”
He’s seems to have lightened up, but w
hen I glance at him, he’s anxious, which makes me feel the same.
I unclench my fist
and let the small, white box sit on my flat palm. I cautiously open the lid and find a spectacular pair of princess cut diamond earrings, roughly the size of my pinkie nail, sitting on black silk.
“You don’t have to wear them if you deem them profligate.”
“I love them. Thank you. Will you help me put them on?”
“You’re welcome, Gabrielle. It was my pleasure.”
I hand him an earring, putting the other on myself.
“Speaking of pleasure…earlier was divine. I really want to do that more.”
I reply, twisting on the backing of my new present.
“You ha
ve no idea how ecstatic that makes me. You were perfect, Gabrielle, and I can’t wait to get back at that superb ass of yours.”
“Tonight?” I squeak out,
a little too enthusiastically, and he chuckles.
“I think we can do something, but we need to give your sweet rump a break to heal. Trust me. You’ll feel it later if you don’t feel it already. I’ll take care of you, doll.” He takes my index finger and gently
nips at it. “So, about the trip. You will sleep at my place tonight, so we can head directly to the airport first thing tomorrow morning.”
“I didn’t say I would go. I do have a life,
responsibilities, people who depend on me.”
“Who? Your parents are out of town along with your sister.
Julie is grieving with her parents, and Chase can live without you for a few days. I can’t be away from you that long. I won’t. I need you, Gabrielle.”
I don’t want to be away from him
, either, and I haven’t left town in a long time. I could use a nice little vacay.
“What time do we fly out?” I ask, defeated.
“Ten,” he replies with a shit face grin.
“When can we get my clothes?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.”
“Oh, shit, what now?” I ask with a tone.
“Buckle up,” he demands.
“What do you mean, Damian?” I ask as I buckle in.
He smiles at me mischievously, starts the car, and merges into Sunday traffic.
Exhuming the Past
W
e arrive at the large, white stoned church, and there are already tons of people out front, swapping fond memories of the dearly departed. Damian grabs my hand and latches on tight, weaving us past everyone. We search for Jules and her parents to give our condolences. When I spot her midnight hair, I point her out to Damian and he guides us over.
“
Jules!” I call out.
She turns and leaps at me, putting me in a vice grip. I pry my hand away from Damian, returning her hug.
“Hey. I’m so relieved that you’re here. I can’t take all these strangers pretending they know me, and what I’m going through.”
A woman walks by then and stares at
us awkwardly. “Sorry, but honestly, who are you?” she remarks to the woman, who appears appalled and offended. Julie looks back at me as the woman scoffs off, and we burst out laughing, getting us a few glares of disapproval.
“God forbid I laugh after the hell of a week I’ve had,” she says with a roll of the eyes.
I hear Tom, Julie’s father say my name, “Ellie, how kind of you to come. How are you, dear?”
His eyes are red and puffy. Obviously, they would be after the loss of his only son. He was never one to hide how much he adored him.
Helen, Julie’s mom, comes to stand beside him. She appears tired, emotionally drained.
“Yes, Ellie. It would have meant a lot to Nic
holas.”
Jules
breaks away from me to join her parents where they stand behind her. Damian returns his hand to mine, and their eyes follow it up to his staggering face. Jules gawks at me then nods in his direction.
“This is Damian Hunt. Damian, this is
Tom and Helen Reynolds and their daughter Julie. My Jules.”
He shakes their hands, giving his apologies.
“Thank you,” each one replies.
Helen
turns to me and says, “I was rummaging through photos of Nicholas and found one of you two before prom. The way you two looked at one another. I’d never seen him as happy as he was with you.”
Hunt’s grip tightens around my fingers, smashing them together until I lose feeling in t
hem. She begins crying into Tom’s shoulder, and he consoles his grieving spouse, holding her and running his fingers through her hair.
They’re an attracti
ve couple, both are brown-eyed brunettes with striking facial features. Tom guides his distraught wife into the church, leaving Jules to stare at us through red and violet eyes. I jerk my throbbing hand from Hunt.
“It’s a pleasure to fina
lly meet you, Damian. I’m happy to see you worked things out.”
I give her a look, but she ignores me.
“Yes, we did,” Hunt answers, clipped.
He’
s in no mood to talk about our personal life. He wants to speak to me about what he now knows. All my fears come true.
“You are together, right?”
Jeez, Jules, give it a rest.
“Yes, we are,
” Hunt feels the need to speak for us and not with kindness.
“
Jules, can you excuse us for a moment? We’ll be right back.”
“Sure. I’m going inside. I’ll save you two seats next to me.”
“Thanks,” I reply and haul Damian off to the side of the large crowd to a grassy area to the right of the church.
“You were being extremely rude to my friend. How could you treat her like that?”
He’s pissed. That’s easy to see. It’s in his stance, tense face, hands rubbing vigorously along the back of his neck.
“How could you not tell me
we were going to your ex-abuser’s funeral? That’s why you didn’t cry about this kid’s death. You fucking lied to me. You told me you didn’t know him well. I feel betrayed and hurt by your dishonesty.”
“I’m sorry, Damian.
I knew how you would feel about it, and I was going to tell you after…Actually, I wasn’t going to tell you for a long time. When you wanted to come with me, I knew it would most likely come out, but honestly, I was hoping it wouldn’t.”
“This doesn’t change the fact that we came here with me having no knowledge of whom this fucker was. How could you come to this shit’s funeral? This is unacceptable.”
“I’m not here for him. I’m here for Julie. She needs me.”
“I don’t understand, but we
’re here, and I’m going to support you. I wish you had been truthful with me. Relationships rely on honesty and communication, especially the type of relationship we’re entering into. I need to know you won’t keep me in the dark anymore. Promise me, Gabrielle.”
“I promise I won’t lie to you anymore. I’ll be truthful and open with you about my past, present, and future.”
He inhales slowly. “Thank you. We should get in there and get this fucking thing going. The sooner it’s over the better.”
“Yes. I’m sure you have questions.”
“Yes, I have many questions I’m eager to have answered. But now it’s time to put on the mask.” I glance at him, a smirk on my face. “…in a manner of speaking,” he clarifies.
I watch him put up the shield. His eyes become cold, lips t
ighten into a straight line, posture shifts. He snatches up my hand with a firm grip and guides me into the church, where a majority of the massive crowd has already taken their seats.
It’s a huge, ornate structure with intricately carved woods, high walls made of large stone bricks, and beautiful stained glass windows. The outside light streams through them, bathing the church in random pools of vivid colors. It’s stunning. I could stand here and gawk for hours.
“You have no clue how much I hate this,” Hunt states as we practically sprint up the isle to where Nicholas’s family has gathered.
“Oh, I think I do,” I mutter.
T
he service is difficult to get through, but Damian never lets go of my hand, which he squeezed when pictures of Nicholas and I flashed on the large screen behind the closed casket. Knowing he supports me, gives me strength, makes me sincerely happy he came. I don’t think I could have gotten through the service otherwise. On my left, Jules, lying her head on my shoulder, her tears running down my arm. I slinked it around her, trying to comfort her, but it can’t take away the hurt of losing her twin.
O
nce the service and burial has concluded, we head to the family home, a lovely Queen Anne Victorian Manor in Nob Hill or Snob Hill, if you’re a native San Franciscan. It’s been in the family since its construction in the late eighteen hundreds. The enchanting home is stuffed full of people from wall to wall, every crevice harbors an occupant.
I hear my na
me over the mess and turn, spotting Sloan’s vibrant red locks bobbing and weaving in the sea of people. She finally makes it to us and hugs me closely.
“Isn’t this so sad? I feel horrible for
Julie and her family,” she comments.
“I know it breaks my heart,” I retort. Damian snickers from behind me, catching
her attention. She gapes at him then me with curious eyes. “Damian, Sloan. Sloan, Damian.”
“Mr. Hottie
from the club. Nice.”
Oh my sex god! What is up with my friends today?
“Actually, Damian, the
boyfriend
,” he corrects.
“I know who you are, Mr. Hunt. I’ve heard plenty about you.” Hearing her call him by his surname turns my face a deep pink when images from earlier dance about my head.
“You ok, Ellie?”
“Yeah, it’s just seriously crowded and stuffy in here.”
“Tell me about it. It’s a damn oven,” she replies, fanning herself with her hand. “You’ll have to tell me all about how you two got together over dinner or drinks. I’m going to check on Julie. I’ll see you later.”
She gives me another hug, and when she shakes Damian’s hand she turns as red as her hair. He has that effect on a woman, except
Jules who seems immune to his charms.
Conversations buzz around us to the point it becomes a collective deafening hum. It’s an overload on the senses. After an hour of enduring the hot, loud, cramped space, I’m anxious, overwhelmed, and ready to leave. I tell Hunt, who’s been by my side the whole time, I want to find
Jules to say goodbye. I was unable to get a moment to speak with her, as she was constantly in the middle of a group of people waiting to give their apologies. I spy her in the kitchen, trying to hide from well-wishers, Hunt waits for me by the door.
“Hey,
Jules.”
“Hey. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to talk with you. I’ve been fighting off all those people.”
“It’s understandable. You have no reason to apologize. I wanted to let you know I’m going to head out. I made this for you.” I hand her the bag with muffins in it. She takes it and peeks inside.
“Thanks. I’m going to
enjoy these. I love your desserts.”
“I’ll call you in a few days to make sure you aren’t in a food coma. Damian invited me to go up to Seattle with him, and I accepted. I won’t be back until Tuesday or Wednesday. Maybe we can do a night out. Will you be ok?”
“Yeah, I think I’m gonna be ok. I’ve been neglecting a few friends, and I’m happy spending time with my parents, so I’ll be plenty busy. Have a good time, safe flight, take pictures. All that jazz.”
“I will. Talk to you soon. I love you,
Jules.”
“I love you, too, Ellie.”
We give each other a long squeeze, and Damian approaches us to give his apologies for her loss.
He
takes my hand and guides me through the house, gracefully meandering us through the chaotic crowd. We finally break free into the refreshing, crisp air. For the first time since the beginning of the funeral, I can finally breathe normally. I follow him to the car, where he walks around to open the passenger door for me.
“I’m going to drive. I need to focus on something other than the last
three hours.”
Hunt struts around the car and snatches me up in his arms. He comes down on me and kisses me ardently until I can think of only him.
“I’ve been waiting to do that. Better?” he asks, parting from me.
I’m
left dazed, breathless, and wanting.
“Yes, with you, always.”
He drops the keys into my hand and goes back to the passenger side. We climb in and buckle up. He stares at me with an edgy eagerness. I know he’s dying to ask me about Nicholas.
“I know you want to talk to me, but I feel exposed and drained from the funeral. I need time to gather myself. Can we discuss this later
, or better yet, another time, please?” I request with little energy.
I can tell he’s still avid to know more. His hands run up and down his strong thighs.
“We can do that,” he replies wryly.
He’s trying extremely hard to do everything he can to please me, and I love him for that. Yes, I love this sensual, broken man. I know it’s too soon, but it’s not as if I’ve verbalized it.
I take off, and we drive back to the apartment in silence.
B
ack at the Artemis, I’m ready to take a bath and prepare dinner for us.
“I’m going to take a soak
then get dinner ready,” I announce as I kick off my pumps and bend down to pick them up. “Is there anything special you want?”
“I was thinking we could order in. Unless, you’d prefer to stand over a hot stove, cooking?”
“No, that’s ok. Order whatever you like. I’ll be upstairs,” I reply nonchalantly.
I kiss him
on the cheek and turn to leave, but he snatches me up, bringing me in for a loving, longing kiss. Our lips part, and he rests his forehead against mine and mutters, “I’m excited about the trip. It means a lot to me you accepted my invitation.”
“I’m excited, too. I still don’t know what I’m supposed to wear.” I turn away, and he taps me firmly on the butt. “Ouch!” I yelp.
I gaze back at him, wanting, and strut away with a little sway to the hips.
“Bullshit, sweetheart,” he replies to my over exaggerated reaction.
I giggle and head upstairs into his room. I stroll into the closet to take off and hang up my dress and coat, glancing up to discover half a closet full of new clothes for me. Unless, Hunt’s into wearing pumps, dresses, and silk blouses, but with him, you never know.
Kinky bastard.
I move further into the closet and let out a murmured, “Wow.”
I spin around to find Hunt standing
in the doorway, gauging my reaction.
“I understand you don’t like money spent on you, but you’re worth it, and I get immeasurable pleasure in buying these items for you. I want to lavish you with every luxury money can afford. You deserve nothing less.”
I’m unsure how to react. I don’t like it. I feel cheap, as if I can be bought. On the other hand, his intentions are to make me happy, to offer me anything he has the power to obtain. Most women would probably take this without hesitation, but I’ve never been one to take things from others.