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My pulse kicked up a notch when while waiting for the traffic light to turn red at the two-way intersection, the club doors opened, momentarily flooding the dismal street with music. Leland exited, upturning the collar of his jacket before rushing for the waiting taxi. “Shit,” I cursed when a city bus pulled into the bus stop near me, cutting off my view. By the time I’d gone around the rear of it, and braved the oncoming cars to cross the street, the cab was already u-turning and speeding in the direction the bus had now gone.
Cole hadn’t been with him. At least I didn’t think he was. I hadn’t heard the music seep through the doors again, signaling it had opened once more, and I wanted to believe Cole couldn’t have slipped through the club entrance and into the backseat with Leland in such a short amount of time. Plus, Cole had a driver. Was he still inside? Could he have already left?Maybe he never came.
I was maybe thirty feet away when a black SUV pulled up, and Mark hopped out of the driver’s side to run around to the back door. My steps faltered, and I’d been about to shout his name when Club Bale’s doors burst open again, and a coatless Cole, dressed in a black turtleneck and matching trousers, rushed to the SUV. His coat was draped over the shoulder of a ginger man who laughed and raced in behind him. They were speeding away before my shock wore off.
I hurried into the cobblestone street, watching as the taillights faded into the distance.
I should go home to my husband. I should cut Cole out of my life completely, tell Daniel the truth about us, and insist he no longer work for Nexcom.For once rational thoughts were spinning around in my head.Daniel had made partner. He’d gotten what he wanted. He no longer needed Cole.Ino longer needed Cole either.
But I was angry. And I wasjealous. Sovery jealous. And I felt entitled to him. “How fucking dare he—”
A car honked behind me, and I whirled on it, not even realizing I’d been marching in the middle of the street in the direction Mark had driven off in. I held my hand up to protect my eyes from the bright headlights, whispering an apology only I could hear before maneuvering between two parked cars, a puddle and an empty beer bottle to get back onto the sidewalk.
Because of the weather, hailing a cab proved to be impossible as they were all occupied, and using the app on my phone wasn’t any better, which was why I’d taken the train there from Sofia’s house.
My socks were damp and my fingers numb, but so was the rest of me now. I hoofed it back to the subway station, rushing down the platform steps to catch the waiting train, the only other occupant a sleeping homeless man. I skirted past his trash bags full of empty soda cans, and took up a seat at the other end of the car. My leg shook uncontrollably as I sat there fuming and terrified of what I’d find once I got to Cole’s place.
What felt like an eternity later, the conductor announced my stop, and I’d slipped sideways through the parting doors before they’d fully opened, ascending the platform steps two at a time and charging through the turnstile at breakneck speed.
Pushing through the hotel revolving doors like a madman, I banged Cole’s code into his elevator keypad, my breaths sawing in and out of my flared nostrils as I imagined the worst.
The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival to the lobby, and I backed away from the opening doors, suddenly too afraid to face what potentially awaited me upstairs.
The doorman and front desk concierge eyed me cautiously, so it was either get inside, or be escorted off the premises.
Once inside, I shoved the flaps of my coat aside to brace my hands on my hips as I paced a tight circle, squeezing my eyes tight, trying to shut out the dread.
Heartbreak, rage, and guilt trampled my insides. I should’ve been in my marital bed, in my husband’s arms, not concerning myself with who Cole could be fucking. But Iwasconcerned, and I didn’t know what I would do, what I was capable of doing, or who I’d become once these elevator doors opened.
And through it all, through the trembling in my limbs, the imaginings of what I would find, flashes of the ecstasy they both were experiencing right then and maybe not for the first time… Through it all I wanted him anyway. Wanted him,still.With a need so hot and melting my veins erupted with it.
One step onto the marbled foyer and the soles of my wet shoes squeaked. I removed them slowly along with my coat to buy time, but also not wanting to make my presence known. I needed to see them in all their glory. I needed to see the look in his eyes as he had someone who wasn’t me. As sad as it was, I needed to know if someone else could make him feel the way I once had, because if I was going to break, I needed to break completely. I couldn’t take the in-between any longer.
Romantic music streamed through the penthouse surround system. Low and sensual. The kind of music that lacked words, the kind you made love to, the kind that turned the scene into something unsettling, macabre even, once that lovemaking escalated to uninhibited, unadulterated fucking. It was the kind of music he’d loved to take me to. The kind he’d orchestrated with his bare hands and eyes closed, imagining how our bodies moved together with every strike of the chord he played. It was a symphony put together ofourlovemaking. I knew every note by heart. And he was playing it for someone else.
A scent that wasn’t his stained the air, and the turtleneck and shoes he’d worn created a trail toward the living room archway, like he was too worked up to wait any longer or go any further. But other than the sounds of music, the palatial suite was serene.
Cole sat behind his piano in only his dress pants, bare shoulders and head slumped forward, an empty tumbler and a bottle of whiskey—still mostly full, perched on the closed lid. The flames from the fireplace turned the amber liquid gold.
Out of nowhere his hand shot up, smacking the tumbler away, sending it skidding across the shiny black top to crash at the feet of the fireplace.
I flinched, sharply intaking air and drawing his attention. Cole wheeled his upper body around, grabbing the edge of his bench to keep from falling. His lip curled. He wasn’t happy to see me.
Whatever this was. Whatever had happened here in the time it took me to get to him, he blamed me for it. And he had every right to. All the bad things we’d faced had started with me.
“Are we alone?”
“What are you doing here?” he finally asked, his icy rage slicing against my skin.
The coffee table had been upended. Hopefully a result of his current bad temper, and not a consequence of unrestrained sex.
Two unopened foil packets lay on the white, shaggy rug, and a tube of lubrication rested on its side up against the sofa leg as if it’d rolled there.
“Did you fuck him?” I asked.
“Why. Are. You. Here?” he repeated, each word spoken clearly, threateningly even.
“How many people have you fucked since you showed up here?” I had no right to ask, given the stipulations I’d made him promise to in this very room. But right then, my heart didn’t care about anyone’s rights. It wanted answers, and my anger rose to the occasion. “Answer me! Did you fuck him? And how many others?”
