Why the fuck did she leave without saying goodbye? I turned away from the window and glanced around the room, looking for answers. Maybe it was all about the money to her. “But we had a connection,” my optimistic side replied. I’d felt the chemistry between us. She’d responded to my touch, my kiss, like a woman hungry for more, and the more I gave her, the harder I fell. “It was just for the money, you idiot.” Even though I said the words out loud, I refused to believe them. I walked to her side of the bed and sat down. I ran my fingers over the indention in the pillow she’d used before hugging it to my chest. The scent of vanilla and almonds filled my nostrils. A surprising combination but distinct. “Why did you leave, Sia.” I held the pillow to my face, breathing in deep. I couldn’t let go. I flopped back on the bed, holding the pillow to my chest, and stared at the ceiling. No woman had ever had such a profound effect on me. I thought I’d made some kind of impact on her. That she might’ve considered something more with me, the ache in my chest intensified, radiating outward, leaving in its wake a burn I couldn’t extinguish. “Why, Sia? Not even a goodbye?”
I sat up and set the pillow aside. As I stood, my glance fell to the floor. I leaned down and picked up the bracelet I’d seen on Sia’s wrist. I fingered the wooden beaded wristband. While it didn’t appear expensive, the intricate hand-carved pieces strung together on a simple elastic thread spoke to an underlying sentiment I’d probably never understand. Something about her mannerisms told me she was a young girl in a woman’s body who appreciated simple things in life, and attached significance to objects or situations most people would consider ordinary.
Without thinking, I slipped it over my hand and turned it around on my wrist a few times. My lips parted in a bleak smile. “I have a piece of you, Sia.” Even as the words left my mouth, I accepted that nothing would make up for her and what she’d given me the night before. Only, it hurt that I meant nothing to her. Had she pretended all those feelings, responses just for the money?
I swallowed against the lump in my throat and headed for the bathroom. As I passed the bedroom door, I halted mid-stride. I backtracked a couple of steps, and glanced toward the front door. Frowning, I crossed the room. There I stopped, and stared down at the briefcase I’d filled with the money for Sia. Crouching, I opened the bag and pulled in a harsh inhale. The money was still there. All of it, packed in tight bundles I hadn’t bothered to count. It wasn’t important then or now. Slowly, I stood, my gaze still fixed on the money. “If you didn’t take the money, Sia, why did you leave without a goodbye?” I glared at the filled case, hoping it could give me the answer I desperately needed.
“It was never about the money, was it, Princess?” And while a part of me smiled at the notion, the other part, the one filled with a void so deep, it was unlikely to be filled, cried for someone I’d lost within a blink of an eye.
****
“FUCK,” I CURSED UNDERmy breath. It was in the early hours of the next morning, just before the sun rose and almost an hour before my usual wake up call when I stirred. After waking to find Sia gone, I’d tried working for the rest of the day. It took extreme effort to concentrate. As soon as evening descended, I headed to the countryside, hoping for a distraction.
With my fingers laced behind my head, I stared at the ceiling. Except for Angela's soft even breathing on the far side of the bed, an ominous silence washed over me. I still couldn’t accept I’d finally done it—stepped over that barrier of no return. I glanced at the woman I’d committed myself to for so long, I’d forgotten what it felt like to be free, to experience the pleasure of sex without considering it a chore until it dwindled to nothing. Still, I’d never breached the restraints of our marriage.
Remembering Sia’s husky cries and her pulsing pussy, however, it was hard to regret and even easier to want to do it again. Strangely, I felt more like a besotted teen than a sexually experienced man. I closed my eyes, and immediately, exquisite images of Sia’s undulating body beneath me filled my head. Her soft moans, music to my ears. I’d traced every inch of her skin, learning her curves, her sensitive spots, and ultimately taking her most prized possession. And that moment would stay with me forever, carved into my heart like a sharp knife to stubborn bark. I could picture her, wrapped in nothing but our sensual scent of arousal and her sexy moans as I slid my cock into her tight, wet pussy. I loved watching her respond to my commands, the hunger in her eyes when my fingers manipulated her senses, touched, and savored. I relished the control of her body that she’d so willingly offered to me, trusting me with just a smile. Just the thought of her set me on fire.
Fuck.
Although hurt that she’d left without saying goodbye, I knew if she stayed, I would’ve wanted more than just one night, and that would be unfair to her. She had her whole life ahead of her. To experience sex, fall in love, and eventually wed a man suited to her age. Yet, those thoughts filled me with irritation, anger, and finally, regret that I hadn’t been able to stop her from leaving. I clenched my fingers, tension knotting the tendons at my neck. Inexplicable emotions of want and discouragement gave way to a chaotic pounding both in my heart and my head. Still, I couldn’t understand why she hadn’t taken the money. Why she’d left so abruptly?
Turning on my side, I inhaled deeply and willed sleep. After several minutes of ideal speculation about what I could do to find her, I tossed aside the covers and climbed out of bed. A shower might help—a cold one would do nicely. Eyeing my rigid arousal, I walked into the bathroom. When I descended the carpeted stairs, I entered the vast, low-beamed country kitchen. My mother’s regal form seated at the pine table, her head buried in the morning paper and a coffee mug in her hand, made me smile. Even at the age of seventy, she was an early riser regardless of how late she retired.
With her back to me, she didn’t notice my entrance. I walked up to her and placed a soft peck on her cheek. “Good morning.”
“Drake?” She looked up. “When did you get in? I thought you were spending the week in the city as usual?”
“Changed my mind.” I walked over to the Keurig and poured myself a large mug.
Her lips twitched. “You wouldn’t be aiming to impress someone now, would you?”
My mug stopped mid-air. It never failed to amaze me that despite the tension between us, my parents remained adamant that Angela and I were still in love. I pulled out a chair on the opposite side and sat down. “Why would you think that?”
She was a strait-laced woman who said it like it was and hardly ever kept anything pent up. Her philosophy laid in the belief that being open and to the point relieved stress. This time, however, she merely shrugged and went back to reading the paper. “Just a thought,” she murmured without looking up.
Feigning ignorance to whatever she had up her sleeve, I drank my coffee. “What are the plans for Christmas eve, and please don’t tell me we’re having one of those big fancy parties?”
With Christmas falling within a couple of days of my birthday, it frustrated me when my father combined the celebrations. I preferred alone time with the kids, and with Rayden away in Africa this year, Kyra was adamant I spend Christmas eve with her. Something I hadn’t told Angela.
“I hate to disappoint you, darling, but your father insisted,” she replied, drawing my attention. “I find it a bit odd, though.”
“What?”
“Well, up until yesterday, he was all set to have a small family dinner. When we retired last night, he suggested we stick to the traditional dinner with our usual guests and so forth.”
“Why?” I was in no mood to socialize.
“At first, I was just as bewildered then he mentioned something about a friend’s son visiting from London. He said it would be nice if Tamara—”
“I hope Dad isn’t doing what I think he is?” I scowled.
“And what would that be?”
“Playing matchmaker,” I replied stiffly. “He’s creating the perfect opportunity for her to meet that friend’s son.”
My mother chuckled. “You’re silly, darling. Your father isn’t playing matchmaker. He’s just friendly, that’s all.” She dropped her gaze to the paper once more.
“Well, I wouldn’t put it past him. He tried the same stunt with me, and I got sucked—” My mother’s head snapped up. Realizing my blunder, I cursed under my breath. I gulped down my coffee and slammed my mug down harder than I intended. It cracked along the edge.Shit.I ran a finger over the break and risked a glance at her. “Sorry.”
