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But why is she also not answering Knox’s calls? What if she’s left? If she has, I have no one to blame but myself. Someone leaving has never really bothered me before—I never get close enough to anyone for it to matter. But right now, I feel like a hand is squeezing my heart.
Suddenly, my mind travels back in time to when we were just kids and Kylie invited me to go to the treehouse with them.
“I don’t want to talk about Mom!” I yell at Dad. I can’t believe he’s still trying to make excuses, as if she didn’t leave because he couldn’t make her happy. He has no right to talk about her. She left because of him.
I can’t stand here and deal with this. I need to get out before we really start arguing.
I slam the door as I leave the house and walk out into the front yard. I’m so angry my hands are shaking. Mom left and that’s a fact. I don’t need Dad trying to explain it. I’ll never forgive him.
I hear a noise and look up. Knox’s friend Kylie approaches.
“Knox isn’t here,” I tell her. I know my voice is sharp and rude, but can’t help it.
The expression on her small face falls for a second, then she looks up at me with her big eyes. “Want to go to the treehouse with me?”
“No,” I snap.
This isn’t the first time she’s invited me, and I really want to go. Badly. I want to have fun and hang around other kids. But I can’t. I don’t want to get close to anyone and then have them leave me like Mom did.
To this day, I can still see that heartbroken expression on her face as she walked away. I can’t seem to get the image out of my head, and wonder if that’s how she looks right now. Max had warned me not to hurt her and the first opportunity I got, I bail on her.
What a fucking jerk!
By the time the meeting wraps up, it’s late. I should just go to a hotel and get some sleep, but I don’t want to wait until the morning to check on Kylie. She still hasn’t answered any of my texts or calls and I’m growing more concerned by the moment.
At times like these, it’s really nice to have a lot of money. It doesn’t take long for my private plane to take me back to New York and I make it to the penthouse just before midnight. The apartment is quiet, no television, radio, or any other noise to tell me if Kylie is still here or awake. It is late, I remind myself. She’s probably asleep.
Loosening my tie, I head down the hallway, anxious to see if she’s still here or if she left me. That’s when I notice a small glow coming from the studio.
My heart thuds in my chest. She’s still here, and apparently awake. Has she been working all day and night with her phone switched off? No, I think with a small shake of my head. Like Knox said, Kylie always answers her phone.
Obviously, she’s pissed at me. I’m surprised she wouldn’t talk to Knox, and that makes me worried that she’s even more upset than I imagined.
Still yanking my tie from side to side to loosen it, I stop at the studio. The door is partially open. I lift my hand, intending to knock, but since it isn’t closed all the way I change my mind and push it open.
My jaw drops and suddenly I can’t breathe. Kylie is here all right. She’s reclining on the daybed, wearing one of my white dress shirts. It’s unbuttoned, showing off her cleavage but covering her nipples. New York City’s skyline shines through the floor-to-ceiling glass.
All of those are great images, but what really floors me is that Kylie has her hands between her legs, her head thrown back as she pleasures herself.
I’ll never, for as long as I live, forget this sight. I’m hypnotized and find my feet carrying me fully into the room and over to Kylie before I know what’s going on. She finally notices me, her eyes round with surprise. Her mouth opens and I swoop in, taking her lips and capturing her gasp of surprise.
Chapter Twenty-Four
KYLIE
When I woke up this morning, an empty feeling filled my stomach when I realized Dante was gone. My heart is aching, willing me to shed tears, but I refused that opportunity. Dante had made it clear quite a few times that he doesn’t do commitment. And even though we had an amazing night together it didn’t mean that I should expect something more to come of it.
So instead, I carried out my morning like I usually would. Shower, dress, breakfast. Though, after breakfast, I did find myself sneaking up to the playroom. My eyes wander over all of the items in there, until they finally fall to his white shirt lying on the floor. My hands are unable to restrain themselves as I pick it up, pulling off my dress to pull it on. I inhaled the earthy aroma of his cologne as I made my way back downstairs.
Usually, I’d have cringed at someone for doing something like that. But at that moment it felt right. Almost like a sense of security that I didn’t understand, though I tried to shrug off the feeling, to pretend it was simple infatuation. That I could wear his shirt with pride knowing I finally had my moment with him.
But even trying to push myself to feel that way didn’t sit right. It should have, since he didn’t bother to call, just texted me telling me he wasn’t going to be home and had to go out of town. It was standard practice for him to not be around since I’ve been here, but it still bothered me.
More than I wanted it to.
I took it upon myself after that text to silence my phone and dive into my painting. Which is what I did… until my thoughts traveled to the pleasure he created in me last night and I couldn’t hold back anymore.
Chasing my own pleasure, the last person I expected to see standing over me was the same one I was thinking about at that moment.
