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Marco Rossi sent over his glam squad along with our wardrobe. This fashion I’m wearing is as edgy as the night Marco has planned.
It’s not just a photoshoot; it’s an event—a huge party with a DJ and a dance floor in a chic SoHo studio. Our photoshoot will be open. Guests can snap their pics while the photographer does too.
Redix agreed that we’ll do the arrival, the rope line into the event, the photo shoot, and two hours after schmoozing the VIPs. After that, we’re free to go.
But I don’t think I’m ready to set the woman in the mirror free.
She’s bound in leather, rejection, and pain.
Redix teased me to the point of a broken heart last night.
Yes, there was chocolate, strawberries, whipped cream, a banana, my writhing body, and his moaning mouth devouring it all. It felt so good that I lost my mind; he had me crying out for him, screaming his name. Lying naked on top of the dining room table in the suite at The Crosby, I didn’t understand why.
Why did he stop?
Why won’t he make love to me?
Why does he pull away and get quiet?
I kept asking him, begging him, and he tried kissing me into silence to soothe the sting of his rejection.
But I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed his kiss away last night and cried alone in the shower. I slept alone, too—in one of the bedrooms of this two-bedroom suite, where I assume he slept in the other.
Because I need to know. Why? Why won’t he tell me what’s going on?
I’ve been understanding. I haven’t pushed him. I love him, and I’d never hurt him.
So why does he keep me at an agonizing distance? Why can’t he understand that I need to know?
It’s my story, my pain too. I just can’t remember it all.
Why won’t he trust me if I trust him again?
This denial between us. It’s as lonely as the past ten years without him. Maybe it’s worse. Because it’s a taunt of my broken heart that deserves better, we both do.
We need the truth.
We need each other.
He tried apologizing by waking me up with a breakfast tray. My eyes were swollen from crying, and they started weeping again at the sight of him.
“I’m sorry, Cade,” was all he would say.
He sat beside me on the bed, and I silently picked at my food. I felt sick.
“Do you want me to cancel tonight?” He asked me around lunchtime.
“No.” My tears had stopped. I stared out of the wall of paned windows to SoHo outside. “I gave Marco my word, and I’ll keep it.”
I let Redix pull me into a silent hug while I tried to decide how much more of this I can take.
These past two months with him have glued pieces of my heart back together. Like half of it’s back; precarious slivers stacked upon another, but he’s holding his beautiful bare foot there, threatening to smash it again.
So this fierce woman looking back at me?
The one who’s had enough?
She’s a stranger I’m ready to meet.
