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CHAPTER NINE
CARMEN
Iroll over, stretching my arm out beside me. First, I notice the pounding in my head, but then I realize he’s gone. I open my eyes and peer around the room. Still no sight of him. I run my hand over the empty space. It’s cold.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Really, I shouldn’t, but I thought maybe we were getting somewhere last night. I mean, it wasn’t very far from where we started, but he did stay with me at least until I fell asleep, which is a start.
The mysteriousness surrounding him should scare me, and maybe it did for a total of two seconds, but now it fascinates me. I can tell he’s lonely, that he needs someone. Fuck, I think I need that too, but he won’t let me be that person. It’s not like I’m asking for marriage or babies. I simply only want sex. And his name. And maybe to know where he came from. But even then, that doesn’t seem like a lot.
I groan and sit up and press my hand to my forehead. Talk about the worst hangover ever. Waking up alone, with a killer headache, and completely naked. I throw my legs over the edge of the bed and stand, then take a minute to gather my bearings. I look at the digital clock on the nightstand and see it’s already 8:00 a.m.
I shake my head, then search the floor for my dress. When I find it, I slip it on. I don’t even have my phone or keys, but I remember last night like it just happened. I think the soreness between my legs and the gravelly feel when I swallow is to blame for that.
I shake my head and spot my torn panties on the floor and collect them, wrapping them in a ball in my fist. Once I’m sure all evidence of my presence here is picked up, I go to the bathroom and slip on my heels. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I cringe. Dark circles hang under my eyes, my hair is tangled and ratted, and my throat… The marks from our first time together are darker now, but now a fresh handprint is forming. It still seems easy enough to cover, but I never even realized how easily I could bruise. It’s not like he killed me or made me pass out… this time.
I push the thoughts of Stallion away and flip the light off before walking out of the bathroom. When I make it to the door, I open it and look down each side of the hall. I start toward the stairwell, knowing damn well if I was to run into anyone right now, it wouldn’t be good.
The door to the stairwell slams behind me after I step in, echoing off the brick walls and making me jump. I hurry down both flights, then exit straight outside. The sun immediately assaults my eyes and makes my head throb even more. I do my best to shield my vision as I focus on walking so I don’t break my ankle.
When my Bentley comes into view, I quicken my pace until I’m right outside the driver’s door. I get in and check for my clutch and phone. All the cash from B is still there, and my phone is still on the seat. I check for my keys and find them too, surprised no one snatched them last night.
I pick up my phone, but it doesn’t come on. “Great.”
I plug it into the charger I keep in my console, then snag some Tylenol from my glove box while I wait for it to charge enough to power back up. I start my car and put the AC on full blast, hoping it’ll do something to help my headache until the medicine kicks in, but I don’t have any such luck.
My phone dings in my hand, and I look entirely too quickly, hoping it will be Stallion, but it isn’t. I’m starting to realize it may never be him. He clearly doesn’t want to be known or cared about. And he doesn’t want to stay, just like everyone else. He just wants a piece of ass every now and then, which I figured I could offer, but now I don’t even think I could. For once, I feel the need for more.
This whole thing was supposed to be a distraction from all the other fucked-up things in my life. Just a way to be someone no one knows, but now I realize it hurts just as bad. My own father doesn’t want me, and now I give myself to a man in the most vulnerable way, and he doesn’t even want me either.
How have I given a single man the power to make me question shit just because he has a good dick, pretty brown eyes, and mysterious intrigue? I couldn’t tell you, but that shit stops here.
“Fuck men. Fuck feelings. Fuck everything,” I say out loud to myself. Now is the time for me to rein the old Carmen back in. The one focused on growing her bank account and partying.
My phone digs again, reminding me I never opened the notification. When I see it’s the dating app, I roll my eyes. This is the thing that got me in this position, but then I remember B and how nice it was to talk to him and how normal it felt. There were no unanswered questions or snappiness. Just laughs, honesty, and fun. I laugh at myself. That shit didn’t even matter to me a few days ago, so why should it matter now?
I click the app, go to the messages, and sure enough, it’s B.
RetributionRebel – Can’t stop thinking about our time last night. I hope you’re having a good day. Let me know when you’re free again.
I smile and type out a reply.
Spitfire – I can’t either. Maybe tomorrow?
Did I lie? Yes. Does he need to know that? No. Bernard is sweet, and charming, and handsome. He’s the type of man I should give my time to, even if he is paying for it. I don’t need to tell him that he honestly never even crossed my mind because I was too busy being fucked by a guy. A guy with no name and apparently no heart.
RetributionRebel – Tomorrow would be perfect. Same place, say 6 O’clock?
Spitfire – I’ll see you then.
I throw my phone back to the passenger seat where I found it, keeping it plugged in, then head home. Right now, I need more sleep, food, and a lobotomy so I can erase Stallion from my mind.
Sleep definitely helped me feel better. When I stumbled inside, William saw me. I was almost scared, but then I remembered, I already got shitfaced. There isn’t anything he can do now other than chastise me a bit. He’s used to Lydia bringing me home drunk anyway. I just didn’t want to deal with the questions last night when I was leaving.
Out of everyone in my life, William is the hardest to lie to because he’s so damn sweet and actually cares about me. Like now, I’m perched back on the barstool in the kitchen as he stirs homemade chicken noodle soup on the stove for me.
“Why did you take the job, William?” I ask to his back.
His white hair is thinning more these days, and his once full frame is getting slimmer. I guess that’s what happens with age though.
