AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Tension creeps into her body as if she’s having the same thoughts I am. “I’m glad I have my massage appointment today; I need it. But thank you.”
That’s my sign to back off. I’m as relieved as I am frustrated, and I need to stop. “You can use the bathroom first.” I roll off the other side of the bed, taking my blanket with me.
I need to stroke one off or I won’t be able to do my job, but there’s no way I’m jacking off in the shower while she’s waiting on the other side of the door. I’ve crossed too many lines already.
* * *
Penelope
When I wokeup this morning, I covered my embarrassment about being curled up next to Cannon by concentrating on my sore neck and shoulders.
I don’t have a bruise from the seat belt. Just my neck got strained from the crash. But I have a bruised ego.
I couldn’t have been physically closer to him. If it weren’t for the blankets, would I have rolled right on top of his hard body?
My cheeks burn at the thought. I pull my leggings up and shrug into my favorite light-pink wraparound dress. It’s comfortable for teaching and easy to get in and out of. Pierre jokes that he knows when I’ll be loose and relaxed because I wear this dress, as if this appointment isn’t at the same time every month.
I’d like to get more. Monthly massages are the bare minimum during competition season. They feel superfluous but they’re a necessity to keep me in top shape. I’d do them weekly, and Alejandra would give me a deal, but I can’t.
Maybe when the divorce is over.
A lot is going to change when the divorce is over. I’ll know where I stand financially, but most of all, the looming dark cloud of Roman won’t be hanging over me. Without him in my life, I won’t feel like a mouse waiting to see if the hawk is going to swoop down to ruin it or pass it by for better prey. I just have to wait and endure the bureaucracy.
Thinking about Roman and the way my father’s ignoring me after I left his financier darkens the peaceful calm Alejandra helped me reach. Father hasn’t approved of much of what I’ve done in my life, and he didn’t delightfully receive Roman into the family at first. But business was a different matter, always has been for Father. So what does he think about the divorce? I can’t bring myself to call him and find out. Not knowing is somehow easier right now.
I go to the waiting room. Alejandra’s behind the front desk. Cannon’s sitting in a trendy little chair. He’s back in what I’ve dubbed his uniform—the loud shirts and cargo shorts.
He rises and gives Alejandra a nod before he leaves. Alejandra takes her confidentiality clauses seriously, so I told her about the divorce and that Cannon’s a friend of London’s—he gave me a ride when she couldn’t. I left my description of the accident at “I got rear-ended.” I’ll have to talk to Cannon about telling Pierre and Juan Pablo the truth. We’ve been honest with them up to the accident. The stomachache excuse is just plain falsehood.
“Same time next month?” Alejandra calls before I walk out.
“Of course.” I won’t be any further along in my divorce next month, but I’m grateful I can maintain my routine.
I follow Cannon to his plain sedan. It’s not what I expected a guy like him to drive, but then I realized it’s exactly what a guy like him would drive. The car functions the same as his outfits—to give people an impression of him that isn’t accurate.
His steps slow and his head cocks to the side, but his gaze slides toward the alley that runs behind the massage building. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when pounding footsteps make me whip my head around.
Two men charge us. Their faces are covered with scraps of black cloth. Sunlight glints off silver in one of their hands.
I freeze, the air in my lungs going cold. Oh my God, one has a knife.
All I can do is inhale to scream, to yell for help. But Cannon shoves me behind him and my scream cuts off. He charges both men. They aren’t prepared for him to attack.
I press my back against the car like I might be able to sift through the particles to get inside. Cannon grabs the arm of the guy with a knife, twists into him, and slams the man’s arm against his knee. A bloodcurdling scream leaves the attacker. Metal clatters against the ground. The second guy stops, his eyes wide. He skitters backward and runs in the direction he came from.
The attacker headbutts Cannon, sending him back a step. Cannon loses his grip. The man runs after his partner just as Alejandra slams out her door. I jump, another yelp stuck in my throat. But seeing her brings my mind out of its frozen state.
“What the hell’s going on?” Fear fills her wide gaze as she spots the man in black running away and the knife at Cannon’s feet.
Cannon touches his hand to his bleeding lip. I don’t have much talent other than dancing, but I have tissues in my tote bag. I dive into the car and grab a few.
Alejandra’s on her phone, relaying information Cannon’s giving her. She must have called the police. Thankfully, someone was thinking ahead. I hand Cannon a tissue, but he doesn’t look at me. He isn’t stopping to look at any one thing. He’s scanning, noting every car, every person. The tattoo shop next door has a guy looking out the window with the same stunned expression Alejandra has, but no one else is lingering. The attack happened so fast. Did anyone else see?
I sag against the car, wanting to be anywhere but here, but I don’t want to be far from Cannon’s side.
