“I’m just leaving,” I say. “I’m meeting Brad.” I’m not sure which nasty part of me came up with that, but now it's out there.
Daniel’s reaction is a deadly look in my direction; his expression morphs into something dark and menacing. He locks eyes with me and my stomach turns at what I see in them. Someone stupider and emotionally weaker than I am possess my body and my mind, urging me to leave, while tears pile at the back of my eyes. The man-eater with the thick glasses smiles devilishly at me,
or is it just my imagination?
Daniel mumbles something to the predator, who is still studying me attentively, and takes a few steps toward me. Only half a step away, he cups his hand around my chin and gently lifts it to look at him. He tilts his head to the side. “You're meeting who?” I shake my head in response, feeling both confused and embarrassed by my conduct, but frankly, there’s nothing I can do to shake it away. It already gathered huge momentum. I've become just a pawn of this madness possessing my brain.
“I’ll see you at home,” I say, and turn away, but before I can, Daniel grabs my hand and tugs me back. He holds my face, from both sides this time, and looks me dead in the eyes.
“Hayley?”
“I’m interrupting your...” I gesture with my hand toward the room. His brows knit together.
“Jasmine, can you excuse us?” he says coldly, without breaking eye contact, and there’s a clear bite of exasperation to his words. Jasmine sways slowly toward the door, and before leaving, says, “Call me when you need me again, Mr. Stark.” To me it sounds like it's bursting with innuendos, and I brush Daniel’s hands from my face.
His eyes open wide and the muscle on his jaw starts ticking. “What in the name of
fuck
is going on?” he says, shutting his office door with a loud thud that makes me wince. I’m trying hard to stop this craziness I’ve just crafted so deftly, but it’s stronger than me, and at this point the snowball in my head has already begun to roll, too far and too fast.
“Was she the one?”
“The one what?” He narrows his eyes and twists his mouth. “Hayley, you are not making any sense. What's gotten into you, for fuck’s sake?”
“Was she the one you slept with?”
In less than a heart beat the air between us becomes so tense and bitter, I can almost taste it.
“Did you just ask me what I think you did?” A vein begins pulsing at the side of his neck, and his stare turns livid.
I just nod.
“Where’s that coming from?” His eyes run across my face, assessing and penetrating, confused. “What’s wrong with you?” He is angry: majorly, fuming, angry.
“Was she the one you slept with?” I ask, and this time my voice is harder.
“I’m not doing this shit here,” he murmurs, more to himself. Unceremoniously he turns to his desk, grabs his car keys and puts his hand on the small of my back, though his touch is far from gentle. Silently, he directs me out of the room.
“I’m leaving, I’ll be back later,” he says in a clipped tone as we pass by Anne's desk.
“Mr. Stark, you have…” Her voice fades at the glance Daniel throws her way. During the short elevator ride we stand at opposite walls, my eyes burning with unshed tears, colliding with his smoldering ones, but we don’t say a word. The palpable silence in the small compartment amplifies the tension that grows with each passing second, that I know very well will end with an inevitable explosion.
When we get to the garage, Daniel presses a button on his remote and a double beep comes back from the Veyron. I look at him questioningly and he snaps, “Just get in the car.”
“Where are we going?” He huffs loudly, his expression menacing.
“Would you get in the goddamn car already?” The chilling tone of his voice reminds me of times I'd rather forget.
I don’t ask where we're going again and he doesn’t appear to have any intention of sharing it with me. With fire in his hooded eyes, he stares ahead, driving the car at an insane speed that makes me grip the sides of my seat with every turn and twist, til my knuckles turn white. When he finally slows the car, ending a trip that I should thank some deity for surviving, I can see that we're at a racing track.
Daniel jerks the car to a stop and sends an aggravated glance my way, then shakes his head in a way that silently says 'unbelievable'
,
and gets out of the car. He stands outside, his hands momentarily covering his eyes. I can literally see the next breath he takes, as his chest rises underneath his black tie and crisp, white button-down shirt. He takes a short step and leans on the driver side door, his hands crossed and his back to me. I wait a few minutes, letting him cool off and trying to explain to myself what I’ve done and what I want to say. I take a deep breath, the whirl of thoughts that initially got us here still gnawing at my mind as I step out of the car.
I round the vehicle and stand close to him, though far enough away to respect his personal space. He turns his head sideways to look at me, his arms still crossed, and his jaw unmistakably working overtime.
“Why Hayley? What the fuck did you just do to us?”
I bite on my cheek and try to make it sound reasonable in my own head before answering.
“We had it so good, and you had to find a way to ruin it?” His nostrils flare. “Where’s this coming from? Brad, Hayley? Brad?”
“She was practically jumping you in there.” Is the most clever thing I can come up with.
“And did I do anything that made you think something would come of it, whatever that was?” His voice is low, cold and somewhat hurt. “Did I?”
“No, but it’s not like you pushed her away.”
What the fuck is wrong with me?
He shakes his head, and I can clearly see that the composure he's kept so far is now held together by threads. “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe we're having this fucked up conversation.”
“What can I say, it triggered something.” I answer, hating how I feel but hating the way I make him feel more. But still, for some twisted reason, I can’t stop. I can’t let it go.
“Didn’t we declare forgive and forget?” He licks his bottom lip. I don’t answer and just look at him.
“Do I want to drive the hell out of here, right this minute?” His stare almost burns a hole in mine. “Yeah, I do,” he says more to himself than to me. “
Will
I do that? No, Hayley, because I’m trying, like I promised you. I’m fucking trying here. What I don’t get is why the hell
you're
going out of your way to make it impossible.”
He's completely right, but I can’t find the strength to quiet my insecurities. I need to think this over, I need to make whatever is screaming in my head stop, cause I haven’t got the slightest clue how to proceed. I don’t want to say anything, anything at all til I figure out for myself what just happened.
“I don’t know.”
His eyes on me muddled, but they soon regain the heat residing in them a moment ago.
“You don’t know?” he repeats in irritated disbelief. “You don’t
know
?” This time his voice is colder, an octave lauder, somewhat scornful.
I look at him from under my lashes and nod. “I need to be by myself and think.”
He shakes his head, exasperated. He uncrosses his arms, and is about to say something, but then stops.
“I’m not even sure what I want. I’m not sure what’s come over me, D.”
“That makes two of us.” His struggle to keep it together for my sake is so obvious my heart constricts in a painful manner.
“I love you so much. Please give me some time.” His entire demeanor melts a notch as he returns my stare. He takes a deep, frustrated breath and his next words are jaded and soft.
“How much is 'some time', Hayley? I won't be waiting around forever this time.” I nod and the tears sting, fighting to be released.
“Just a few hours.” He seems a bit relieved as he nods, but there’s no mistake: he's still furious with me.
We drive back in silence, a silence that screams 'danger', a silence that screams “What the hell are you doing?”
Daniel brings the car to a stop below the YOU offices, and sighs. We don’t exchange any words but we do swap charged stares.
“I’ll see you at home,” I say finally, feeling like I should say something, anything.
He darts a look my way that sends a direct pang to my heart. “What ever happened to trust and communication?” He turns to look ahead, making it clear it wasn’t really a question, and that he can’t wait for me to leave.
At my desk, distressed and restless, accompanied by a well-deserved inner tirade of self-loathing, I rush through all my pending tasks. At six sharp I flit to my car, and drive home. I park in the open parking lot and immediately look for the Veyron. Its absence sends a strange blend of gloom and relief through me.
What the hell is coming over me?
When I get inside I throw my purse aside and change into a light, white sundress. With a bottle of mineral water in one hand, and my iPod in the other, I step barefoot onto the deck, heading toward the beach. I adjust my headphones and dip my toe in the shallow water where it meets the sand. I take a step deeper and start walking on the moist, sinking sand.
The chain of events that started at Daniel’s office play vividly in my mind's eye. I think about what happened, my reaction, what I've caused—and my thoughts are confusing, accusing and disconcerting, saturated in uncertainties. I slowly process the madness I brought between us and my chest tightens. A sudden realization clears the rest of my thoughts away: Daniel said he wasn't going to wait forever this time. It hits me, hard.
I’m afraid to lose him, plain and simple
. I’m terrified of him hurting me again because it'll make me run away and never come back. My insecurities all sum up to getting hurt by him again and having to leave him, for good. Plainly, losing him. The thought stiffens my throat.
In every ongoing struggle throughout life, there comes a time to weigh your gain against your loss, and make your
final
decision.
Leave or stay?
I close my eyes and focus on the lyrics playing in my ears as I retrace my steps back to the house.
The space is dim and quiet, though I can see a faint glow of light coming from the corridor that leads to the master bedroom and Daniel’s office. As I near the end of the corridor I notice that the light is coming from the office.
Wary, I stand in the door and watch Daniel for a few long minutes. He doesn't notice me: he's concentrating on the screen in front of him. He sports day-old stubble, still wearing the white button-down and tie he wore for work. His brows are furrowed and his features rigid. It doesn’t seem like he relaxed much. The emotional state I left him in earlier still unmistakably has a hold on him. As he turns to pick up a tumbler from his side, half-filled with golden liquid and ice, his eyes shift to look at me. As they find mine they take on a graver shade.
He takes a long sip of his drink, his head slightly tilted sideways but his heated eyes still very much on me.
He sets the whiskey glass on the desk, sticks a finger to the knot of his tie and releases it a tad. He slouches lower on his vast leather chair, watching me attentively, waiting.
Trying not to overthink, I just blurt out, “I’m afraid.” His eyes turn confused and widen with concern.
“Afraid? Of me?” His voice is quite low, but I still hear it and all of its undercurrents loud and clear.
“Oh, no. Of course not
of you
.” I take a couple of steps farther into the room, but halt. “Of what you're capable of doing to me.
If you break me again, I won't be able to overcome it.” I bite my lip as a tear rolls from my eye.
“God, Hales, I’d never.” Daniel studies me quietly, for a short, emotional moment. “Baby, I’d never do anything to hurt you, at least not intentionally.”
He eyes me for a burning beat and then crooks his finger, ordering me to come to him. I take the last two steps to his side. He puts his hands on my hips and lifts me up onto his desk. He wipes the tear from my cheek with his thumb and then buries his face in my thighs. I thread my fingers in his hair.
“Most of all, I’m afraid that if you hurt me again, I’ll have to let you go. And the thought of not having you kills me.”
He tilts his head up to look at me, his chin still on my thighs. “Hales, I feel
the same way.
How many times do I have to tell you that til you get it inside your head?
I love you more than feasibly possible.”
“I’m sorry,” I say in a small voice, and bite my lips.
Daniel sags back into the chair. “Don’t ever do it again, Hales. You know, I get hurt too.” My throat clogs and I nod. He takes a generous sip of whiskey, brooding. As he's about to put it back on the desk I take it from him and help myself to a long taste.
Chapter 22: Going the Distance
“Are you all packed?” Daniel glances at me over his shoulder, stooping over his open suitcase.
“Almost.” I look back at him.
“Hales?”
“Yep?”
“Bend a little lower.” He smirks.
I look down to where he's zeroed his eyes to find out that my shirt is clearly showing my cleavage. I roll my eyes.
As I put a few more sets of clothes into my hard-shelled suitcase, Daniel comes over to stand right behind me. Despite my fussing, he puts a warm, large palm inside my shirt to rest on my bare breast.
“How many pairs of shoes does one person need?” he asks, looking at the variety neatly placed in my bag.
I turn my head to look up at him. “How many sets of lingerie does one person need?” I raise my eyebrow.
He nods
. Case closed.
When his thumb begins to tease in circular motions, my breath changes. But it's when his other hand reaches inside my lacy boy shorts and deepens his hold of me that all thought of the task at hand evaporates, replaced with one single desire: him.
His fingers trail deeper and I gasp for air, my face flushing warmly. I can feel his hunger pressed against me. He nudges my hair aside, nibbling at my exposed skin, while his fingers engage in torturing rhythms inside of me. I groan and arch my back, feeling his reverberating growl against me. Still utterly taken in pleasing me, he moves us slowly toward the window. In one swift motion I am turned around and pushed against the floor-to-ceiling window.