“And his goal is to find Mrs.Perfect...and we both know there’s one box I don’t tick.”
“If you’re referring to your weight, you’re wrong, and knowing him, he’d whip your ass for saying that.No, the box you don’t tick is availability.”
“Panda Bear shit on that.I am totally available.”Xia stabbed a finger against her chest.“I’m single, pretty intelligent, and not too bad looking.Sex between us is...fucking amazingly explosive.I’m available as the air we breathe.”
“Hmm...except you’ll be breathing Hawaii air and him, New Orleans air.That’s the box you don’t tick, my friend.He has a time limit on finding a wife.Didn’t you tell me he wants to get married before the end of the year?”
Xia nodded miserably.
“Hmm...that’s the box with the cross.You, my dear darling friend, are leaving the mainland in less than two months for two years.”
“Fucking bouncing bear balls.Why the hell did you have to remind me of that?”Xia’s heart sank as she faced the cruelest irony.Her dream job, the perfect chance to rebuild everything she’d lost, meant losing the one man who made her feel whole again.The position in Hawaii was everything she had worked for.A top executive-level position with creative control and amazing advanced career opportunities.But two years away from New Orleans...away from Rex...
“I wish I could say my love for him means more than the job, but I have career goals.I’ve worked my ass off to build my reputation, and being let go destroyed that without me having done jack shit.I can’t afford to walk away from it.”
“And you’re sure as hell are not going to give it up for a man who made it clear you’re not in the running.He might lust after you, Xia...but don’t let that cloud your mind.Weigh up the pros and cons.If they’re not at least equal...you know what to do.”She smiled wryly.“I know that look in your eyes, and the answer is no, Xia.A man like Rex will never be satisfied with a long-distance relationship...definitely not for two years.”
“Yeah, I know that much.”She snatched the drink from the server and tipped it back like it was medicine for a terminal condition.Shoving the empty glass at the startled man, she declared with a hiccup, “Line ‘em up, buddy.My ride-share app and I have a date with poor life choices tonight.”
“Now that’s what I call therapy.”Cheri matched Xia’s empty-glass slam and flashed the server with her million-dollar smile.“Actually, sweetheart, skip the middleman—bottle and ice, stat.We’re about to make some questionable decisions with this single malt, and we’re doing it bestie style.”
Three hours and most of a bottle later, Xia and Cheri were draped over their chairs, tears of laughter streaming down their faces as they recalled their college escapades.
“Remember...remember that time you convinced the entire Kappa house that your ‘supposed self-made brownies’ were actuallyspecial?"Cheri wheezed, barely able to get the words out.“They spent the whole night acting high off regular-ass Duncan Hines!”
“Oh god,” Xia snorted, wiping mascara from under her eyes.“And you!Miss Marketing Maven, telling Professor Anderson you couldn’t present because Mercury was in retrograde.And he bought it!”
The whiskey had done its job, dulling the ache in her chest to a manageable throb.But as she stepped out into the humid New Orleans night a while later, the laughter died in her throat.
The darkness felt...wrong.The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and a chill ran down her spine despite the warmth of the evening.Someone was watching.She could feel eyes boring into her, and instinct warned her they were filled with predatory intent.
Hurrying to the waiting car, the click of her heels echoed off the buildings like gunshots.Each shadow seemed to hold a presence, and each darkened doorway a potential threat.Traffic flowed steadily on Veterans Memorial Boulevard, and with headlights creating a strobing effect, it was impossible to tell if another vehicle was following them.Still, she kept glancing back, her heart racing every time she caught a glimpse of a dark sedan in the rearview mirror.The driver must have sensed her unease and discreetly took a few extra turns before heading to her building.
“There you go, Missy.Here, let me walk you to the door.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said with relief wrought in her voice.
The doorman’s concerned face was a welcome sight as he opened the door, but even his presence couldn’t completely dispel the crawling sensation between her shoulder blades.
“Miss Foster, allow me to escort you up.It’s late, and you seem a bit...unsettled.”He waved off the driver who still hovered at the door.
“Thanks, Joe.”She waited until the driver pulled away and scanned the street one last time before following the doorman to the elevator.In the mirrored walls, she checked repeatedly over her shoulder, unable to shake the feeling of being stalked.
Her hands trembled slightly as she fumbled with her key card.Even though she was in the penthouse and entry could only be gained with a coded key card, she still double-bolted the door before some of the tension left her shoulders.She did a quick sweep of the apartment, looking in closets and behind curtains, feeling silly but unable to help herself.
“It’s the whiskey that’s making me paranoid,” she said softly.“Yes, that’s all it is.”
Stumbling to her bedroom, she managed to kick off just one heel before collapsing onto the king-sized bed.The room spun pleasantly as she closed her eyes, and immediately her whiskey-soaked brain conjured images of Rex.
“Hmm,” she moaned as she envisioned his dark eyes burning with possession as his strong hands gripped her thighs, and that wicked mouth claimed her most intimate places.A soft moan escaped her lips as she drifted off, the phantom sensation of his tongue against her flesh following her into the arms of Morpheus.
But even in sleep, a part of her remained alert, aware of the darkness pressing against her windows, and of the possibility that somewhere out there someone was still watching, waiting...
Dominic Drake
Midnight...The Consortiumfounders gathering at their underground operation hub at DD’s private mansion, Shell Beach, New Orleans...
The full moon hung like a silent witness in the Louisiana sky, casting elongated shadows across the manicured lawns of Dominic Drake’s Shell Beach estate.The air was thick with humidity, matching the heavy anticipation churning inside him.At forty, he cut an imposing figure—six foot two of lean muscle clad in dark designer jeans and a black silk shirt with the sleeves casually rolled to his elbows.The fabric stretched across his broad chest and shoulders.
