Whisper (The Voice trilogy Book 1) (28 page)

“You have
work to do, and you have to meet your mother.” His face falls and I am stunned.
What is happening here?
“You wouldn’t want me to get the wrong idea,” I prod, trying to lighten his mood, but to no avail. He shakes his head while he listens, but doesn’t retort. Rising before me and all six feet two inches of his frame looms large, dominating the room and my personal space. He is rigid and controlled, but frustration rolls off of him in waves. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a heavy sigh. When his eyes open they have softened slightly, but his steely determination is clear. 

“Right.”
He straightens his bow tie and waits, his beautiful mouth set in a harsh line.

I am stunned by his quick relent, but what did I expect? My pulse races and my heart jumps into my throat. I don’t want to say goodbye. But I cannot let him see that. I know this cannot go anywhere. Our lives are too different, too far apart. I am many things, a realist being one. I know enough about this man’s past, and propensity for new, shiny objects that even a little infatuation could ebb in a moment. I know that nothing about this weekend was real. I know that if his past is any indication of my future, I have to say goodbye, and let it go.

“It was a pleasure having you, Ms. Noelle.” His mouth rises in that panty busting crooked grin and he hauls me into his arms, melting me with a soft kiss. His firm lips tender against mine, urgent, like a starving man dying for the last drop of water. We dance and linger longer than we should, our hands and lips unwilling to let go, before he finally walks me to the car, and relinquishes his hold on me. He doesn’t wait for us to pull away, turning his back and quickly retreating back into the house as soon as the car door shuts. The pleasure was surely all mine.  

I couldn’t say just how I managed to get on the plane. I was numb as I walked through the airport. A welcome effect, airports are always so sad, people leaving something or someone. I hate them almost as much as I hate hospitals. As we take off and the cabin is gently lifted into the air I am pulled from the numbness I have been struggling against since he shut the door and turned his back. He walked away without a second glance. I wrap myself in the too small airplane blanket and curl up in the roomy first class seat Rhys has so generously provided, only after I vehemently refused to set foot on his private jet. I have already allowed myself to deviate so far from who I am and how I live. It would be too easy to be swallowed up in his life, consumed by all of the perks of being Rhys Slate. I had to stand my ground, even though a part of me is kicking myself for the lost opportunity.

The too-perky flight attendant pulls me from my reverie with the offer of champagne and I accept readily, anything to help me sleep. Before I know it, I am woken by the jolt of the plane coming down on the runway. I make my way through the airport the same way, numb, floating on residual pleasure, and physical exhaustion. The cold air is a pleasant shock when I step outside. The wind is gentle, and the moon is bright and full. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with home. Fresh air assaulting my dull senses, waking me from my pleasure filled vacation. I glance down the curb towards the taxi lane when I see my name emblazoned across a white board; Ms. Sophie Noelle. I make eye contact with the man holding the sign and he quickly makes his way towards me. Scooping up my bags and tipping his hat before I can think. 

“Ms. Noelle, I trust your flight was pleasant. My name is Frank, and I will be driving you home.” He opens the back door of a sleek black Town Car and I almost
expect Rhys to be sitting in the back. He isn’t and I am relieved as I slide in.

“Um, yes.
Thank you.”

This has Rhys’ signature all over it. His way of seeing me safely home, since I no longer have a phone.
My phone. I can’t believe I allowed myself to be out of touch for so long. My mind snaps back to real life almost immediately as Frank pulls out into traffic. Everything that I left behind, my Grandmother, the only family I have left, wasting away in a hospice, the ex who invaded my home while I was away. I long for Miami as it all comes rushing back. Everything I was trying to escape, still waiting for me when I return. What am I walking into when I get home? Will he be there? Please, don’t let him be there.

We wind through city traffic before Frank pulls off the interstate, cruising through open space and sleepy bedroom towns before he pulls onto my street. He pulls around the front of my building and quickly opens the door for me before retrieving my bags from the trunk. He ushers me away from the car, and it is clear that he has been instructed to walk me to the door.

He produces a set of keys from his pocket. Two newly cut brass keys, hanging from a silver Tiffany key chain, and proceeds to open my front door. I look to him in question. Baffled and unsure as to why or how this man got a set of keys to my home. 

“Where did those keys come from?” I ask, befuddled.

“They were waiting for me. I have been instructed to see you safely inside.” The pity in his face is evident, as is his embarrassment. I don’t have the energy to fight so I step behind him as he walks through the door and flips on the light. He places my bags by the front door and proceeds to sweep my apartment like a cop, every room, every closet, before he is convinced that we are alone and I am safe. He places my keys on the dining table along with a business card, UBER, Frank Rich. 

“Please call me, Ms. Noelle, when you need a car, if you ever need anything. I am at your beck and call, at a moment’s notice.” I can’t help but grin at his
offer, it is so far out of my scope of living.

“I am not of the means to retain a driver, for any reason, but thank you, Frank.”

“You are on account, Ms. Noelle. All of your charges will be covered.” Of course they have. 

“Please, call me Sophie. Thank you, Frank.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you this evening, Ms. Sophie?”

“No, that’s it. Thank you. Oh, and Frank,” I catch his arm as he heads out the door, “please tell your boss that I am grateful.”

He tips his cap at me and bids a Goodnight before I close the door and turn to my sad, small, empty apartment. Everything looks in order. In fact the tidiness of the space is strangely conspicuous. It doesn’t appear that Collin has taken anything with him, or broken anything, his habit when he gets frustrated. I notice his keys on the counter, the familiar over-used bottle opener in the shape of a shark. Did he really relent so easily? That is not his way. I am overcome with relief and exhaustion. I don’t want to think about anything. I make my way down the hallway, switching off every light that Frank turned on. I drop my clothes as I make my way through my room. Every step is heavier, weighted down with the realities I will face in the morning. A quick shower and I slip into bed without another thought, drifting on memories of Rhys, his hands, his mouth, and his inexplicable refusal to say goodbye.

A pounding at my door tears me from the most restful sleep I have had in days. The room is bright, but chilly. A moment passes before my body accepts that we
are no longer in Miami. But there is something so comforting about your own bed after a few days away. Regardless of how wonderful those days may have been. My muscles are stiff, I have been twisted in ways I could never have imagined, and loved every minute of it. I stretch and grab my cotton robe before dashing to the door to stop the incessant racket. I glance at the clock and it is 8:15. What an unholy hour for someone to pound so loudly. I yank the door open on a startled young woman. 

“I have a package for Sophie Noelle?” she asks, meek as a mouse. Where is the powerhouse that was banging on the door a moment ago?

“That’s me.” She hands me a small black cardboard box. It has no emblem, no shipping label, nothing.

She smiles a quick smile before turning on her heel and disappearing around the hedges that line the sidewalks. I look down at the box, set it on the kitchen table next to the inexplicable keys, and I know who is behind it all. Rhys. I open the box to find a brand new phone and turn it on. It is already charged and loaded with all of my old contacts, and one new one. On the home screen, staring back at me is a cocky grinning Rhys. I tap on the picture and an entire library of information pops up. His cell number, phone numbers for his office in Miami and New York, cell and office numbers for an assistant named Nina, business email and personal, addresses in New York and Miami. Every possible way to get a hold of him listed in one handy place. I ponder the bevy of society women and wannabes that would kill for just a fraction of this information. I scroll down the page to where he has listed special skills and laugh out loud.

Special Skills: Knots, games, making Sophie               lose control

I immediately type him a message. 

Thank you for the new phone.

Frank gave me a good ride last night.

Thanks for that. 

PS. How did he
get my house keys?

The phone chimes back almost immediately.

I’m glad you made it home OK. You are               welcome for the phone, I figured it was the               least I could do, seeing as I confiscated and               dismantled your last one. Frank is a lucky man.

PS.
I had your locks changed. 

My head is barely treading the surface of his casual declaration. He invaded my home and privacy, or better yet, he had someone else do it. I am upset. I think I am upset. I should be upset, why would he do that? How would he do that? And then I remember the last time I had my old phone. The day Collin called. Rhys must have overheard. But, changing my locks? Changing the locks of a woman you barely know, that’s a little creepy, right? I stare down at my phone for a long minute, contemplating what to say, if anything.

Don’t be angry, I was just trying to help.

I don’t need your help! 

Well, you have it whether you like it or not. He               invaded your home when you were not               there. What kind of gentleman would I be if I               did not               see you safely home? How did you               sleep? 

Don’t change the subject. 

I have a meeting, Beautiful, a lot of work to               catch up on. Enjoy your new phone.

I pass the day cleaning my apartment, looking for clues of Collin being here, but I find nothing. The locks are new, just as Rhys said they were. But other than that it all seems to be just as I had left it. I unpack and shower, needing to get back into my routine, and get my mind ready for real life. My mind too easily slips away, musing on how wonderful it would be to live a life of luxury, with Rhys. To hold up in that mansion on Key Biscayne and just let the rest of the world fall away. The thought is a trap, distracting me from the very real task of jumping back into real life, my real life.

There is radio silence all day, until five thirty. My phone chimes with a message just as there is a knock at the door. I have to admit I’m feeling a bit skittish, afraid, or perhaps hoping that Rhys will appear. Or worse still, the specter of boyfriends past.

I can still smell you…

A beautiful bouquet of sweet peas, and big, white, double gardenias arranged artfully in a crystal vase sits on my stoop. The scent is heavenly, swirling in my nostrils, taking me back to Miami, to Rhys. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, pulling the floral essence deep into my lungs. It is hypnotizing, all consuming, and just like Rhys. I check the card. 

I still smell you in my bed. 

Wow, for someone who claims not to do romance, he sure knows how to lay it on. I tap his picture on my phone and send him a message.

Gardenias are my favorite, did you know? 

I smelled them today and thought of you. Now               I cannot stop. Did you think of me? 

Maybe… 

I thought about kissing your neck. What did               you think about?  

As I read it a shiver rolls down my spine, my memory flashing to his warm mouth on my skin.

My private thoughts are my own, Sir. 

You are being coy, Beautiful. Keep playing with               me and see what happens…. 

I
haven’t begun to play with you, Mr. Slate…
 

I am aware, Ms. Noelle.

Now, I have an
              engagement.

Goodnight and sweet
dreams, Sophie. 

My mouth hurts from the permanent smile plastered across my face. I lay down on my sad empty bed, holding my phone close. He has invaded every facet of my mind. I cannot seem to move away from him. He is everywhere. I am covered by him in every way, covered by his soft kisses, by his scent and his gentle touch, covered by his searing gaze and his rock hard body. I cannot escape him. His every touch is emblazoned on my memory, tattooed on my skin. He is there when I close my eyes, he is everywhere. But he is not here.