Page 58 of The Heart You Kept

I wait for the answer to come up.

Alora Sorenson is an antique dealer. Owner of Sorenson Antiques in Nice, France.

Although reasonably new on the scene to the antique world, she has already cemented herself as a force to be reckoned with. Known for her impeccable taste and timeless style, she’s often referred to as the modern-day Audrey Hepburn. Alora Sorenson has garnered somewhat of an online cult following for her classic beauty and love of vintage designer clothes.

I sip my scotch, well well….

“You coming to bed?” Hermione asks from the hall.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I reply without looking up.

“Okay.”

I wait for her to leave and then click on images.

A gallery of photographs appears of the enchanting Miss Doe and I click on them all one by one. Long dark hair, perfect posture, the most perfect face, and a beautiful smile.

Angelic.

I get a flashback of her on her knees in front of me, her eyeliner smudged from near choking. Her lips red raw…her big eyes pleading for me to go easy on her.

My cock twinges with excitement and I smile and sip my scotch.

Found you.

ALORA

The clock ticks over as I watch Pascal’s back, he’s lying on his side turned away from me and has said all of three words since the auction. “You okay?” I ask softly.

“Just tired.”

Although he hasn’t said anything, its crystal clear that he’s upset about Edward.

Well get in line, motherfucker, because that makes two of us.

I close my eyes and I feel Edward’s hand on my cheek, I feel his lips against mine and my heart free-falling from my chest. Every emotion in technicolor perfection.

The way he looked at me, the fire behind his kiss.

Sadness fills me at the realization that I don’t know if I feel like that with anyone else.

Not even the man that I love, and how is that fair?

Why would I be reminded of an attraction so substantial in my life that it changed my DNA. What kind of person am I…feeling like that about another man when I’m with someone so wonderful?

The lump in my throat hurts and the salty hot tears run down my face and drip into my ears.

In the darkness, beside him, I cry alone.

The bed dips as Pascal climbs out and I inhale deeply with my eyes still closed.

Hell, what a night. I feel like I haven’t slept at all.

He pulls his pants on at the end of the bed and I lean up onto my elbows. “What are you doing?”

“I have to go.”

“Where to?”