I RELEASE her from my weight, my feet landing on the floor. Her hair sprawls out on the white cushion and her cheeks flush a bright crimson.She's dressed much more casually than when she left the office. Instead of a blouse and skirt, she wears tight jeans and a sweater. Even in less revealing clothing, she's still sexy as sin. Seeing her dress in something normal for a change gives me a glimpse at the true side of her, and it seems to awaken something carnal within me.She bristles and stands to her feet, frantically smoothing out her hair and struggling to look me in the eye. Actually, she's avoiding looking at my half-naked body altogether."I didn't expect such a warm welcome," she hisses, staring out the window with her chest heaving up and down.A dark contentment burns in my middle.I already informed my housing staff of her arrival, but they still need to see us together. I need them to believe we've been together for some time, and soon the world will think so too.A smug fe
I'M DREAMING.HANNAHI've never been a lucid dreamer who's acutely aware of the distinction between dreamland and reality. Every night, if I dream at all, I go about them blissfully unaware that my actions are anything but real.Except for one dream.One I wish would stop coming. I've learned to recognize its signs. An uneasy feeling prickling at the back of my neck, followed by loud blood pumping in my ears, until—The shed.I freeze in place, staring at the surrounding sunflowers and its rusted white paint.That's how it is. Average, pleasant dream, followed by a shed in the most peculiar of places. Sometimes it reveals itself while I'm walking the dreamlands of Central Park, or outside the office I work at, or in my very own living room, balancing atop the couch and coffee table.But tonight... tonight it seems to be where it truly lives, where it's always been.My family's farm.I approach it with caution, the backyard's overgrown grass brushing up against my shins. Over my should
I'VE BEEN in the same room with her for all of five minutes, and I already know Cyna is one of those types who thrives in madness.She doesn't have one assistant. Or two. She has five.They wrap yellow measurement ribbon around my waist, hem pantsuits and skirts on the spot here in the apartment, and refuse to slow down. No, anything below a brisk walk is positively unacceptable, like Cyna herself might pull out a ruler and smack them for slacking off.I hold my arms out as a tape circles around my breasts. I'm wearing nothing but a bra and underwear, staring into the keen pair of eyes behind round black spectacles. We're in the middle of Damien's penthouse in the living room, clean windows surrounding us on a beautiful sunny day.Anyone in Central Park or the neighboring buildings with a set of binoculars could see me right now. I chew on my bottom lip, trying to avoid the intense gaze Cyna's been giving me for the past ten minutes.She puffs on a thin cigarette held between her two
I PINCH the bridge of my nose, my elbows jamming on top of my desk.I should've seen it coming. Typical of my father to propose one thing, and then ask for three times as much. The deal is simple, or should be simple—Bass Mobile gets exclusive rights to the Nano-X chip for onefiscal year, and I get Sterling's shares indefinitely. Not for an allotted time.Forever.The back-and-forth with their lawyer has been exhausting. Not that I don't have my team of lawyers scouring through their proposal. In the end, we'll settle on the version we originally agreed to, because my father's desperate. His company is in need of my company's chips for their cellphones, and they're in no position to negotiate.My father is only trying to drag this out, clinging to what little dignity he has left.A smile creeps along my lips, right as a knock sounds at my door. "Mr. Bass." Arthur pops his head in. "I hope I'm not intruding."My shoulders relax, happy to see a familiar face.Arthur is the epitome of p
BAD DECISIONS, bad decisions, bad decisions.I tap my heel in quick repetitions, sitting quietly at my desk.You taunted him. You taunted him, and now you'll have to endure sittingthrough a date with him... with him touching you in public.Burying my head low, I try to read the notes the engineers gave me today during their progress report. Even though Sofia was there to explain half of what they showed me, I'm still having a difficult time decipheringtheir jumbled-up, scribbled mess.Seriously, do any of them have handwriting that's half-legible?I exhale sharply, translating the notes to a pristinely organized report. Damien told me it's due within the hour, and it's proving very difficult to finish, given the flurry of thoughts arguing inside my consciousness.So, what, you have one little wet dream, and you go along and decide to try on lingerie in front of your boss? Seriously, who does that?It wasn't my idea, I counter, knowing this internal feud is pointless, and I'm screwed
TONIGHT WENT SHOCKINGLY WELL.It felt almost... real. Like we aren't playing a game, acting as a serious and happy couple, ready for photos to be taken of us at any second.As we're walking by the tables, that sensation creeps back in, one caused by the intense friction from the lingerie I'm wearing. Each step is torturous, lulling me into a submission in Damien's arm that loops around my middle.Maybe that was his plan all along. I manage to think through the clouds of euphoria, my sensitive flesh pinching between the two elastic straps. Flirt, don't touch me, but the moment I get up to leave, he knows I’ll walk myself into liquid putty for him.Damien's arm tightens around the small of my back, his thumb sweeping in a slow rhythm, tempting me to give in to him. He wants me to be easy for him. He wants—"Well, well, look who it is," a drunken voice slurs to our immediate right, followed by a high-pitched cackle.Oh, no.Damien and I both stop in our tracks at the same instant, becaus
EVEN THOUGH IT'S been a week since our date, I can still see the look my brother gave me at dinner when I close my eyes. The copious amounts of alcohol he ingested that night couldn't hide the rage on his face. Couldn’t conceal the jealousy in its purest form when he realized what I'd done, how I'd corrupted Hannah.But although I can't stop replaying the night in my head—the way she offered herself up to me, melted in my hands like chocolate—one nagging thought refuses to leave my brain.Did she do it because she wanted it? Because she wanted me?Sterling's words slither about in my brain, the ones he threw at me during our family gathering. If she's messing around with you, it's only to get my attention.Maybe he was right. Maybe the notorious playboy broke her heart, and I'm a stepping-stone to get back to who she really wants.John appraises me through the rearview mirror of the car, clearly reading my torment. I avoid his eyes, trying not to think about how good Hannah looks sitt
I'VE ALWAYS LOVED THUNDERSTORMS. But I've never seen one from this high up.Sitting criss cross on the couch in fascination, my eyes glue to the white light rippling across the clouds, shining above central park. I shovel the next handful of popcorn in my mouth, the buttery goodness sparking my tastebuds.The city is still as busy as ever, the color of grid-locked cars on the streets smearing through the wet windows. People who move along sidewalks look like little dots from up here.I have all the lights off to get the best possible view of the storm. When the next strike flashes, I whip my head around, scanning the dark room.No one.Arthur already went to bed, seeing as it's nearing midnight, but it would be nice to watch it with someone. That doesn’t seem to be the case, though. Just me in a multi-million-dollar penthouse in pajamas with my popcorn to watch the storm.Couldn't he at least get a cat?A knot twists inside me, thinking of how Sofia would kill to be here right now. Ma
HANNAH - 5 YEARS LATER"Are you... crying?"Sofia avoids my stare. Her head angles down towards the stage directlybelow us, to the ballerina twirling in circles on her toes in the hands of her partner. Wearing a white tutu, her brows droop downwards in an expression of pure drama and struggle."No." More sniffles."Oh my god... You are." After shooting me a stern look and retrieving a fresh handkerchief from her purse, she returns to craning over the side of the gold box railing. "And to think, only yesterday, you didn't want to come. Said it'd be too boring."She ignores me, her eyes widening when fog floats from the corners of the stage, the intense music growing ever louder.I don't blame her. I was skeptical about attending my first ballet show, too. But now I understand and appreciate its beauty, in a similar way when Damien plays the piano for me when we're alone. I can recognize the same thrill and excitement in his features as the dancers below.Tonight's performance of Swan
HANNAH"ISN'T it so much better when I plan our weekend getaways?"My lips thin, overlooking the ocean from the balcony of our villa."You've asked that every day we've been here, Damien."His chuckle is low in my ear as he wraps his arms around me, raisingmy temperature even higher than the private hot tub we're in. Our view is impeccable, along with the other villas that stand proudly in the water, tracing along the island's coastal line.Who knew houses come on stilts?We've been in Bora Bora for over a week, and I've enjoyed every second. At first, he told me we were going for a weekend vacation, just us two, and loaded up the jet with a bag I didn't pack. He then ignored all my questions about where we're headed.My guesses were Florida and Mexico. But no. I realized I was dead wrong after our flight took over eighteen hours. And then I made the even bigger realization that Damien... Damien was taking a real vacation. Not a weekend, but nearly two weeks off.I smirk.He's come s
THESE WALLS NEVER BUILT A HOME.They built a cage.My steps across my family's estate’s hallways are slow, my eyes wandering to key destinations of my childhood that would always spark awful memories.Because, when I normally pass by the archway that leads to the kitchen, I wouldn't see it as the beautiful architecture that it is. I would see my mother's last act of rebellion, struggling against my father's hold on her, before she received the final blow that turned her into the mindless aristocrat she is now. All the genuine joy expressed through her love of dance—gone.And when I'd near my father's study, I would hear Sterling's small cries as he banged against the door that always proved to be permanently closed. Often, it was me he'd hear inside, not getting much better treatment, until some maid would sweep him off his feet to carry him back to his room.But on this day, I don't see the house the same way. Right now, it seems fragile to me. Like glass.My steps quicken, with one
HANNAH SITS in a simmering silence that would intimidate anyone. Makeup artists blot fuzzy brushes to her face. A man behind her clamps a strand of her hair between an iron. And another tapes a wire underneath the strap of her blouse. Sitting on a black swivel chair, the bottoms of herflayed pantsuit reach the ends of her thin stilettos.She hasn't said a single word since entering backstage over an hour ago,and I know she must be planning something, not that she's going to share anything with me. She distinctly left that part out last night when she blew up my entire world to splinters, then informed me to go about our presentation as normal.Do you trust me? she had asked.And I didn't hesitate then, and I won't now, even before dozens of live- recording cameras and thousands in the audience.Mysterious schemes rage behind her eyes like dark tides of the sea, hinting at the rarely seen danger inside the woman before me, making me question who it really is I'm in love with... It's
I WISH I could go back to the girl I was a month ago, who was only trying to save her family from bankruptcy.Not from their murder.Sitting on the floor of my bedroom, I rest my back against the side of my bed as light streams underneath my closed door. I twist the engagement ring around my finger, embracing the pointless warmth it gives me.Damien and I can't be. But I still put it on the instant I got back, allowing myself to pretend for a while longer that the world believes we're newly engaged and we're unveiling the most anticipated microchip of the twenty-first century.But that can never happen. Tomorrow, Damien will be alone on the stage, his father watching with satisfied eyes as he tells the audience it's Bass Mobile who wins the prize for an entire year. Their stocks will skyrocket, their phones soon reigning supreme, and its users will never know the danger they slip into their pockets.My phone rings on the floor next to me, shining a familiar face I’ve grown to love on
MY BIOLOGICAL FATHER doesn't want to be found.One quick search of Victor Strauss online gave me all the information Ineeded, including his company and personal phone number. I've called many times—late last night, early this morning and an hour ago—stating who I was and practically begging him to talk to me.Which felt wrong in and of itself, because why should I have to be the one to beg? Was his reaction at the charity event all an act? He certainly recognized me and tried to chase me down before Damien got to me first.The only answer I received was as a cryptic envelope slipped underneath our door ten minutes ago. Inside, black ink marked a white slip of paper.The Crimson Lotus9:00Lifting my head to the Vietnamese restaurant glowing neon red againstthe rainy night sky, I cross the street, studying those inside. But I'm unable to see anyone. The windows are quite dark, which wouldn't bother me so much if this wasn't such a sketchy part of the city.Upon my entrance, a bell ab
NOTHING SPARKS my imagination more than the touch of the wheel beneath my fingertips, even if I'm not tall enough to see through the windshield."Vrr... Vrrr!" I mimic the purr of the engine, feeling vibrations as I pinch my lower lip between my teeth and push air from my lungs.There's no light inside Daddy's shop, not when it's past midnight, aside from the glow from a small desk lamp on top of his workbench. But that makes the thrill more worth it, sneaking out late without making a sound, letting my mind run rampant.With one turn of the wheel, I'm roaring down an open road with no destination in sight. A sandy breeze whisks my hair past my shoulders, invading every crevice of the roofless red Mustang I drive beside an endless ocean."Brrr." My lips flop with a funny feeling.With the next turn of the wheel, I'm a champion speed demon on my sure way to win my seventh NASCAR trophy. My legs elongate to their appropriate size, the bottom of my foot pinning the gas pedal to the groun
HANNAH IS a presence I've grown to need, much like a soothing melody to my ear or oxygen for my soul.For the past two weeks, her warmth has chipped away the chronic stress from my shoulders like wax dripping from a candle, leaving behind a man I can hardly recognize—with a sense of calm and joy.On several occasions, I've laughed so hard with her at the most mundane of things, that tears lined my eyes in a way they haven't since... I don't know how long. It's very clear to me now that she makes me not only a better lover, but a better person, who sees optimism in an unpredictable future, instead of trying to control it.A week ago, she convinced me to take a day off work to go have tea with my mother. Never would I have done that—obviously, not because of my mother, who I adore. But because the very thought of leaving my company unattended, even though I know there are people I specifically hire to handle my affairs when I'm absent, has always been horrid to me. As if one day off cou
HANNAH IS a presence I've grown to need, much like a soothing melody to my ear or oxygen for my soul.For the past two weeks, her warmth has chipped away the chronic stress from my shoulders like wax dripping from a candle, leaving behind a man I can hardly recognize—with a sense of calm and joy.On several occasions, I've laughed so hard with her at the most mundane of things, that tears lined my eyes in a way they haven't since... I don't know how long. It's very clear to me now that she makes me not only a better lover, but a better person, who sees optimism in an unpredictable future, instead of trying to control it.A week ago, she convinced me to take a day off work to go have tea with my mother. Never would I have done that—obviously, not because of my mother, who I adore. But because the very thought of leaving my company unattended, even though I know there are people I specifically hire to handle my affairs when I'm absent, has always been horrid to me. As if one day off cou