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“I will try to do just that, Sasha. I have to go now. Love you and will call you soon,” she says.
I try to hold back the tears. I am so emotional, so happy for my sister and so sad about my own dismal relationships. The men I thought could be my happily-ever-after have never been, for one reason or another, but there is something different with Jay, and while it hasn’t been long, it’s something I have never felt before. It’s that chemistry he talks about. Like every time he’s anywhere near me, I want him to be closer, touching me, buried deep inside of me, and I want his promises. The ones he teases me with, the ones to paddle my ass, and my pussy. I recall the way he took care of me that first night, the way he fed me with his fingers, and my pussy clenches with the desire for the man that believes I will spread my legs for anyone.
We are going to Italy, one of the most romantic places in the world, and if I didn’t have a shit ton of baggage, Jay would want me, but once I told him what I did and what happened, it was over. Whatever was between us, it is no longer. I saw it in his eyes, the distance. I’m too soiled to want and how the hell can I blame him after what I told him. I’m surprised he even wanted me in the first place after the spectacle I made in the lounge at Brian’s.
I take a sip of water, knowing what has been weighing heavy on my mind needs to be done. I owe Jenny an apology for coming on to her man in public. I also know that if Jay hadn’t intervened, the picture of Brian and me in the café would have gone viral with a bunch of false stories, because the sleazebag that took it was selling it to the highest bidder. I do a Google search, and Jenny Torzial’s picture and company come up.
She owns the Torzial Consulting firm that is doing all the work for the Prestian Corp medical centers, and I’m pretty sure that is where Brian met her. I click on the phone contacts and scroll through until I find a phone number for her. I hit the link to call, expecting to be taken to an automated recording but am surprised when she answers herself.
I apologize to her for my behavior at the club and thank her for her kindness that night. She seems gracious and appreciative, and when I finish with the call, I feel better about me. I have left a part of my past behind, and just as I told Jenny, I am going to continue to work on myself because regardless of whether Jay wants me or not, he has left an impression on my soul. I am going to find myself and stop carrying around the baggage from my past.
I only wish that I had discovered this before I felt the need to dig into Bernatelli’s family, but there is no use looking back. I need to put the entire heartache my father has caused for my family and me behind us. I am not strong enough to keep finding a way to connect with him only to be rejected. My future is not there, and I need to focus on what I want to achieve in the next one to two years professionally and personally.
That’s something that excites me, and I go through a list of all the milestones I want to hit as a ballerina because nothing has ever meant more to me than being able to perform. The professional column was easy to fill in, and now I sit staring at the blank columns in front of me on my laptop. The relationship goals are not as easy.
I have severely messed up every one I have ever had, and I try hard to think of something to put into the relationship column, but I continue to draw a blank, looking at my computer.
Jay’s voice over the intercom interrupts my thoughts. “If you’re trying to identify critical qualities of your ideal man let’s start with a few basics. I’ll ask a few questions, and you have to answer truthfully. Wanna play?” Jay says huskily.
Fuck him and his damn intel team! He is probably watching everything I type. I cringe knowing he probably heard my conversation with Jenny, realizing I told her that I was going to try to find myself and that I didn’t think the person that I had met and that helped me down this path would appreciate me talking with Brian. If he was listening, he’s sure to know I was talking about him. “Sasha, I need your choice, truth or dare,” Jay says.
“Truth,” I say, and everything south clenches with desire. I love this game that he plays with me.
“Accept the invite when it comes through on your laptop,” Jay says as a flash on my screen appears and asks me to allow video chat.
I wipe underneath my eyes and finger through my hair. I have no idea how bad I look right now after crying. I hit the accept button, and the screen expands to show him watching me on the camera. God, he is hot. Those hazel eyes are like magnets, and he looks like he can see right through my soul. “Excellent, so I’ll ask you a question, and I expect an honest answer,” Jay says.
“Okay,” I say, sitting up straighter against the headboard, crossing my legs and sliding a pillow underneath the laptop.
“Why do you find it so hard to articulate the type of relationship you want?”
“That’s easy. I honestly don’t know why it’s so hard,” I say.
“Let’s start with physical looks. What do you find attractive?”
You, I almost say, catching myself in time. “Tall, dark, and handsome,” I say flippantly, but cringe internally as Jay’s jaw tightens, realizing it also could describe Brian. Damn.
“My turn?” I say, racking my brain for a good question to ask him.
“No, I ask the questions in this game,” Jay says.
I frown. This is not how you play truth or dare, but he’s already firing his next question at me. “So you can write down tall men. How tall are we talking, Sasha?” Jay asks.
How tall are you? “Over six foot, maybe six one or six two,” I say and again I know he must be thinking of the similarities.
“So you can type taller than six one,” Jay says. I nod, but that’s not good enough. “Do it now, Sasha,” Jay instructs. I scowl. Bossy much? But I don’t have time to contemplate because he’s already firing the next question.
“How many men have you dated since you came to America?”
My eyes rise to meet his in the monitor. The intensity I see there is palpable, and the charge I feel from the chemistry we share seems to sizzle right through the screen. “More than I want to admit,” I say, lowering my eyes from his gaze. Ashamed that so many men wanted to take me out, and out of all those men, not one of them wanted me for their own. They just like what they see on the outside, a pretty blonde with a toned body to keep their bed warm for a few hours.
“How many Sasha?”
“Maybe twelve,” I say, refusing to lower my eyes. Jay asked, and he’ll get the truth. His eyes darken, and I cringe with shame.
“Does that include Mancini or would that be thirteen?” Jay says.
I know he’s angry that I would use my body to get information out of the mafia’s enforcer. Whatever this chemistry is between us, it affects Jay like it does me and I do not want to hurt him even if he doesn’t want to be with me but for a short while.
