Mr Garcia: Chapter 16

My phone immediately rings, and the name Sebastian lights up the screen.

“Hi,” I answer.

“Where are you?”

“In a café in Brixton.”

“How do you know who she is?”

“She came into my office once,” I stammer.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because of client confidentiality I couldn’t, but now that I work for you…”

“What the fuck is she doing with him?” My eyes roam over to the two of them talking. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

“Keep an eye on them.”

“I can’t.” I drop my head. “They can’t see me.”

“Are you in the café now?”

“Yes.”

“Go out and watch from across the road or something. See if they leave together.”

“Okay.”

He hangs up, and I raise my eyebrows. “Goodbye, Sebastian,” I mouth to myself.

He’s obviously distracted, I guess I would be too if I had an evil ex-wife like her.

I collect my order and walk out and cross the street. Damn it, I just want to eat my toasted sandwich while it’s hot. I tuck the brown paper bags into my handbag and carry the two coffees by hand. I walk into a dress shop across the street. It has huge windows so I can watch through them.

Holy crap, have I missed them?

How long can I pretend to look around in these shops for? There are only four opposite the café, and I have been in all of them, all while staring through the windows.

It’s been nearly an hour. Did they leave already? I’ve been watching like a hawk, and I haven’t seen anything. What if there was another exit?

Shit.

I can’t go back over there in case they are still there and they see me. I also can’t leave in case I miss them.

Fuck’s sake, what do I do?

I take out my phone and scroll through my numbers. I really don’t want to call Sebastian, so I call Bart instead.

“Hey, what’s happening?”

“They haven’t come out.” I look up just in time to see Helena at the register. “Never mind, I see them.” I hang up and stand behind the clothes rack.

Helena pays the bill. They walk out onto the street and talk for a moment, and then they shake hands and go their separate ways. I narrow my eyes in contempt. That bitch.

It’s a business transaction.

It’s Saturday morning, I’m walking out of the gym with a spring in my step. I’ve just done a boxing class and worked my ass off. Now, I’m about to drop by the grocery shop and pick up some supplies for the upcoming week.

We go away again on Monday and, quite frankly, I can’t wait.

I feel good. I have this buzz of excitement in my stomach, and I know that it has everything to do with a certain man.

I didn’t hear from him last night, and that’s okay. He would have been stressed out about Helena. Bart called him yesterday with my findings, and we’re having a meeting about it next week. With nothing further to go on, we really can’t do anything else. But it is interesting to know that Gerhard is sniffing around Sebastian’s ex-wife.

Why, we have no idea. But one thing is for certain: we will find out.

I dig my ringing phone out of my handbag and see the name Duke lighting up the screen. My heart drops. He called me last night, too.

I can’t answer it. I can’t be any franker with him than I already have been.

We can’t even be friends now because he will always want more, and history tells me that I won’t. I just wish he would find someone. I mean, God, he has groupies and beautiful women coming out of his ears. What the hell does he want me for?

I think that’s half of his attraction he has for me… the fact that I don’t want him.

I’ve somehow become a challenge, and I don’t want to be, because I’m not trying to play hard to get.

I really mean it.

I hit decline and put my phone back into my bag. I’ve got to be cruel to be kind.

Regret swims in my stomach. Sorry, baby.

It’s 6:00 p.m. on Saturday night. I walk through the bar to meet Anna and Penelope. I wave when I see them sitting at a table at the back, and I eventually fall into a seat beside them.

“Hey.” I smile.

Anna fills my glass with wine. “Just in time for a toast.” She smiles proudly.

I giggle and hold up my glass to theirs.

“To sleazy married people dating sites,” she says.

We all giggle. “Hear, hear!” I call. “Congratulations.”

We’re here to celebrate Anna’s new job. She just got the position of receptionist at Ashley Madison. Yes, you heard that right. Ashley Madison is a dating site for married people.

“So… tell us everything.”

“Well, I start on Monday. I’ll be at the head office, on the front desk for a while. If I do well, I can progress to the back of house.”

I love seeing her so excited.

“What happens at the back of house, do you reckon?” Penelope asks.

“Orgies,” I offer.

“No.” Anna widens her eyes. “We are a classy establishment.”

“That caters to married people,” Penelope teases.

“It’s not how it sounds,” Anna says. “Once they explained it to me, I kind of got it.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Ashley Madison is for people who are deeply in love with their spouse.”

“Oh, please,” I scoff.

“It’s completely true. They have no desire to leave their marital home, and they are happy in every way with their partner. It’s just that their wife or husband doesn’t have the same libido levels.”

“Ugh.” I roll my eyes and take a sip of my wine. “Give me a break.”

“You know what?” Penelope says. “I get that. Imagine if you were married to the most amazing man, wonderful dad, and great partner. But then due to bad health or some other issue, he loses his ability to have sex. What would you do?” She looks between us both.

Anna shrugs.

“Would you leave him for a loser that can offer you sex?”

“No,” I answer.

“So, you would just live the rest of your life without sex?”

I twist my lips. “Hmm.”

“This guarantees your partner’s dignity,” Penelope says. “You can have a hook up, discreetly and privately. Nobody is going to find out, and the person you are sleeping with is also happily in love with their partner. You help each other out, purely physically. It’s a win, win situation.”

“Cheating is cheating,” I huff. “I could never condone it. I’ve been on the other side of it.”

“This is different. Your dickhead husband didn’t care about you or he wouldn’t have done it with some random chick.”

“In my bed,” I sneer. “Fucking asshole.”

“Cockhead,” Anna chimes in.

“Right?”

“All I’m saying is,” Penelope continues, “libidos in perfectly happy marriages can be very different, too. Sometimes things like these are necessary. If a man is walking around every day and night, horny as hell, and his wife won’t put out, what is he supposed to do?”

“Wank,” I mutter against my wineglass.

Anna giggles.

“And you can only fuck your vibrator so much.” Penelope shrugs. “Nothing beats the touch of a hard man or feeling desired.”

“Don’t I know it,” Anna sighs.

“Anyway,” Penelope shrugs. “I get it. I get women who go there. I get men who go there, too.”

“I’d be happy just to be fucked by someone other than myself,” Anna exhales heavily.

God, I want to tell them about the amazing sex I had this week, but of course, I can’t. I’ve decided that I have to keep Sebastian to myself. Nobody can know about us. After this last week away with him, and seeing how good he is at his job, I know I’m not spending time with just anybody.

I’m sleeping with the Deputy Prime Minister of the country, and he deserves my discretion.

There’s also the small fact that I will be fired from my job if anyone finds out.

“Oh!” Penelope gasps. “What happened with Garcia?”

“Shh.” I look around. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Anna frowns. “I thought there was all this sexual tension.”

“No, he’s having a thing with one of his secretaries, I found out,” I lie. “They’re dating, apparently.”

“God.” Penelope sits back in disgust. “What a letdown. I was looking forward to that hot gossip, loser.”

I giggle against my wineglass.

“Don’t worry,” Anna says. “He’ll probably turn up at Ashley Madison soon.”

I raise my glass in the air. “I don’t doubt it.”

Two hours later, and we’re sitting at the bar. We’ve eaten dinner, had a few drinks, and now two men have come to join us. Penelope and Anna seem to be having the time of their lives, chatting and laughing with them, but I’m just not into it. I’m thinking of back-dooring it soon and going home.

I might call an Uber. I take my phone out of my bag and see a missed call.

Excitement fills me, and I hit call, putting my hand over my ear to block out the noise.

“Hi,” he answers.

I bite my lip to hide my reaction to the sound of his voice. “Hi.”

“Where are you? It sounds loud.”

“In a bar.” Silence. “What are you doing?”

“I was calling to see what you were doing, but never mind. You’re out.”

“I’m just about to leave, actually.” My stomach flutters with excitement, and I get up and walk toward the door of the bar and out onto the pavement. “Why don’t you come over?”

He inhales. “I can’t… we can’t—”

“Be seen together,” I cut him off, disappointment filling me.

“Why don’t you come here, to my place?” he asks. “I’ll have to send my car for you.”

“Isn’t that risky? If your driver knows…”

“Kevin has been with me for years. You’re safe with him. You will have to stay in the car until you are in the garage and the doors are down, though.”

“Okay.” I smile softly, excited by the prospect.

I get to see him.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“Owen’s in Kensington.”

“Okay, I’ll text you when he’s out front.”

“Okay.”

I run my toe over a join in the concrete as a goofy smile crosses my face.

“See you soon.” He hangs up.

I get to see him.

I walk back to the bar and sit back down next to the girls. “Was that Duke?” Anna asks.

“Um…” Shit, although he is the perfect alibi. “Yeah, I might catch up with him.”

Anna puts her hand over mine. “Good idea. Screw that asshole Garcia. You’re too good for him, anyway.”

I fake a smile as I pick up my drink to take a sip. Guilt fills me. Now, I’m lying to my friends.

This whole situation is one big fuck-up.

Half an hour later, my phone beeps with a text,

I have an alias now. How gangster.

“I’m going to head off,” I announce to the girls, draining my drink.

They and their new friends are deep in conversation.

“See you!” they all call, distracted. They only give me a wave before they go back to talking.

I walk out onto the busy street and see the black Audi parked on the other side of the road. The windows are blacked out. I wait for the traffic to ease before I cross the road, open up the back door, and I lean in.

“Hello, Kevin?”

“Tara?”

“Yes.”

“Hop in.” He nods and faces forward again.

Oh, bit rude. It’s like he doesn’t want to look at me.

We pull out into the traffic, and my mind begins to wander. How many times does Kevin pick up women for Mr. Garcia? Is this the usual process? Is he told not to look at them?

Stop it.

Twenty minutes later, we pull into Sebastian’s fancy street. I remember it well. I walked down it alone and in tears six years ago. My stomach twists at the memory.

For God’s sake, just stop being a drama queen, April.

Kevin pushes the button on a remote, and the garage door slowly rises. There’s a black sports car parked in one of the spaces.

Kevin drives in and pushes the remote again. The garage door closes behind us.

He gets out and opens my car door, offering me a kind nod.

“Thank you.” I smile awkwardly. I can’t help but wonder what he’s seen in the past.

He walks over and opens the entry door to the house, nodding again.

There’s a drill, and he knows it well.

I walk through as my nerves begin to thump. Kevin closes the door behind me.

“Hi, there,” I hear his deep voice say.

I turn to see Sebastian walking up the hallway toward me. His hair has more of a curl to it without being styled. He’s wearing a black T-shirt and grey track pants. I’ve never seen him in casual clothes before.

He looks edible, and he smells fucking delicious.

“Hi.” I smile.

He kisses me. “Hey.” He takes my hand and holds it out to look me up and down.

I’m wearing tight, light blue jeans, and a navy fitted blazer with a white T-shirt underneath.

“You look gorgeous,” he says.

I smile, knowing he’s never seen me in casual clothes, either. “Thanks.”

I hear the garage door begin to open again, and Kevin’s car starts to back up. Or is that Sebastian’s car? Fuck, I don’t even know. It’s like I’m in a spy film or something around here.’

“Did I interrupt your night?” Sebastian turns me toward him.

I put my arms around his neck. “No, I was waiting for your call.”

He drops his hands to my behind. “Oh, you were, were you?”

“Yeah.”

Our lips meet again. He takes my hand and leads me down the hall until we get to the living area.

My heart skips a beat.

Fuck, this house. It’s full on luxury.

It’s old but perfectly restored. I think back to when it would have been a huge mansion. Who am I kidding? It’s a huge mansion today. I don’t remember anything about it from the first time I was here, only the street outside. Although, I only came in the front door and stayed in the foyer.

The ceilings are sky high with beautiful thick curtains draped over the windows. The walls are a warm cream, and the furnishings look like antiques. There is a huge, deep red rug that sits beneath a dark leather sofa.

My eyes roam around the space. I don’t think I’ve ever been in such a beautiful home.

“Sebastian. Your house is…”

He puts his hands into the pockets of his track pants and looks around as if he’s trying to see it through my eyes for the first time. “I like it.”

I smile and run my finger over the beautiful, mahogany cabinet. I really should try to act a little cool here, but I can’t even pretend that I’m not in awe.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks.

I nod. “Yes, please.”

He turns and walks down a corridor. I tentatively follow, and when we get out into the open, I am floored by what I see.

The back of the house opens up to a huge kitchen and glass living room. It’s modern out here. The walls are white, light, and airy. The furniture is all lighter, too, and the couches are a cream color. There is a large, sandstone open fireplace with a chimney that goes all the way to the ceiling.

My mouth falls open. “What the hell?” My eyes fly to his.

A trace of a smile crosses his face, and I can tell he’s happy with my reaction. “I added this part of the house.”

I smile as I point at him. “Because you’re an architect.”

He chuckles and dips his head. “What do you want to drink?” He walks into the kitchen that’s white with marble counter tops.

“What are you having?” I ask.

He opens the fridge and peers in with a frown and then closes it again. “I might have a glass of red.”

I glance over to the white couch, knowing that this is a disaster waiting to happen.

I’m a clumsy oaf.

“Okay.” I pull out a stool and sit at the counter. We are so sitting over here.

Sebastian turns his back to me to open the bottle over the sink. My eyes drop to his muscular physique. His olive forearms have thick veins coursing up them. I can see the ripples in his shoulders under his T-shirt, and his behind is tight and perky. Christ on a cracker, this man is delicious.

“How old are you?” I ask.

He fills my glass. “Too old for you.”

“How old is too old?”

“I’m forty-three.”

I frown. He’s older than I thought. “And you live here alone?”

“Yes.” He passes me the glass of wine, and I take a sip. “This is good.”

He smirks and clicks his glass with mine. “Life is too short for bad wine.”

I bite my bottom lip to stop myself smiling at him like a fan girl, everything that comes out of his mouth just sounds fucking fantastic. “It is.”

He sips his wine. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-one.”

He nods. “You never told me you were married.”

I get the feeling I’m here for an interview of some sort. “I was before we met the first time.”

“And?”

“It was the biggest disappointment of my life.”

His eyes hold mine. “Why?”

I shrug. “Walking in on the love of your life having sex with another woman isn’t exactly great.”

His brow furrows. “What kind of fucking idiot would cheat on you?”

I smile, grateful for his kind words. “The asshole kind, apparently.”

He sips his wine and falls into thought.

There’s a scratch at the back door, and he gets up to open it. An old, brown dog waddles in. He has a curly coat and is a little overweight. I smile and jump from my stool.

“Who is this?” I drop to my knees and hold my hand out for him to smell.

“Bentley.”

The dog comes up to me, and I rub his big old face. He’s beautiful. “Hello, Bentley.” I laugh. “You are a big boy,” I say in my baby voice that I save only for dogs. I sit on the floor as I rub behind his ears. “I miss my dog.”

“You have a dog?”

“No, my family dog. His name was Digger. He died when he was thirteen. Best dog in the world. Do you have a ball, Bentley?” I baby-talk again.

“Oh God.” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “He hates that voice.”

“Oh, you love it, don’t you, big boy?” I babble on as I rub behind his ears.

“Don’t wind him up. He’ll be running around the house all night.”

“Where’s your ball?” I mouth to tease Sebastian.

“Jesus,” Sebastian mutters dryly, sipping his drink. I look up to see that he’s trying to hide his smile. “He’s hungry. I’ll feed him.” He gets up and walks down the hallway. “Benny, come on.”

The old dog waddles up the hall to follow him. I listen on as he feeds him and puts him out.

Sebastian walks back out into the kitchen.

“What did you have for dinner?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “I didn’t get around to it yet. I was supposed to be going to my friends but—”

“You wanted to see me instead?”

His eyes hold mine. “Something like that. I’ll get something later.”

“By something, you mean my vagina?” I ask innocently.

He gives me a smile. “Precisely.”

I stand and go to the fridge. “I’ll make us something.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I love to cook.” I open the fridge and peer in. “It’s the one thing I’m good at.”

“There’s another thing you’re very good at.”

My eyes flick over to him, and he gives me a sexy wink.

I smile to myself, feeling proud of myself. “What do we have in here?” I see that his fridge is fully stocked. “You cook?”

“I have a cook.”

“Well.” I take out some chicken and put it onto the counter. “Now you have two.”

His eyes hold mine as the air crackles between us.

I take out some fresh garlic, cream, and bacon. I open the pantry and find some fettuccini. “Do you like Carbonara?” I ask.

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“Maybe not.” I get to washing my hands, “Put some music on, will you?”

“What do you want to listen to?”

I narrow my eyes as I get out a chopping board and knife.

“I’ll play your anthem,” he says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I start to chop the onions.

“This was the song that you walked down the catwalk to in the Escape Lounge.”

The song Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye sounds through the speaker system.

I stop what I’m doing and glance up. “Was it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How do you remember that?”

“I remember everything about you. You’re not easy to forget.”

I smile as I go back to chopping. “You do know that I’m going to rob your house while you’re unconscious, right?”

He laughs and walks over behind me to refill my glass. Then, he pulls my hair to the side and begins to kiss my neck.

I smile as goosebumps scatter up my spine.

“Do that, and I’ll tie you up in the basement for a couple of years and use you as my sex slave,” he murmurs against my skin.

His teeth graze my neck. “I’m totally down with that.” I smile, “Stop distracting me, or you won’t be eating.”

“Let’s skip the main course and start on dessert.”

“Sebastian.” I turn my head and kiss his big pouty lips. “You need to build up your energy. I’m hoping that dessert will be a marathon event.”

He chuckles, bites me hard, and slaps my behind before he goes back to his stool and sits down.

I turn the hotplates on and begin to fry the onions and garlic. I put the pasta in the boiling water, and we chat and laugh as I cook.

It’s not awkward, and it’s not sleazy. It feels like I’m meant to be here doing this with him… whatever this is.

Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing plays throughout the house.

If this song is my anthem, I’m making it my bitch.

We’ve drank two bottles of wine over dinner.

After washing up, I now have Sebastian sitting in the armchair in his bedroom. The room is lit only by the bedside lamp. His bedroom is big and luxurious, like him.

It wouldn’t matter where we were. It’s only me and him now, and this desire between us.

Sebastian and I have a lot of things that are good about us, but it’s the sexuality, the raw hunger for each other’s bodies that’s next level. He makes me crave a deeper connection, a different kind of dominance. One I’ve never needed before him. But now that I’ve had it, I can’t get enough.

My eyes hold his as I slowly undress to the beat.

He sits back, legs wide, his hunger real. I slide my jeans down my legs and throw them to the side. I lift my T-shirt over my head and stand before him in a skimpy white bra and G-string. I unhook my bra and throw it to the side, and then I drop to my knees between his legs. He hisses as he sits back, awaiting my mouth.

I spread his legs aggressively and then slide his pants down, followed by his boxers. His hard cock springs free. My stomach flutters at the sight of it, engorged. Its head a deep red, with thick veins coursing up the length of it.

I take him in my hand and kiss the tip. “Hmm.” I stroke him, and a rush of cream blesses my body with lubricant.

I want him. I want every damn drop.

Getting to let loose on his body is a dream come true. I sit up to remove his T-shirt over his head and throw it to the side. I want full view of this perfection.

He sits back in the chair, his golden skin on show. His broad chest has a scattering of dark over it. His stomach is rippled, and a trail of black hair runs from his navel down to his well-kept, short pubic hair.

His parted quads are big and strong, and I run my hand up his inner thigh, drinking in his beauty.

His eyes hold mine and he cups my face, his thumb slowly sliding over my bottom lip. “Suck me,” he mouths.

I smile as I lick up his length. I cup his balls, and holy fucking hell… this is a man that dreams are made of.

I take him deep into my mouth. His eyes darken, and he pushes my hair back from my forehead as he watches me.

I get into a rhythm. My hand follows my mouth. His moans are deep, his quads are flexing, and I can see the muscles in his stomach contracting on the upstroke.

Fuck, yes.

Watching him come undone like this is my new favorite thing.

His breathing becomes labored, and he begins to shudder as he tips his head back. “Yes,” he pants. “Yes. Fucking yes.”

He convulses hard, grabs my face, and he begins to fuck my mouth with force.

Damn it, I love this. I smile around him and bare my teeth. He convulses as he comes hard.

Euphoria fills me, and with our eyes locked, I drink him down.

His chest is rising and falling as he gasps for air. I keep on slowly sucking him until he’s empty.

“Cartier,” he whispers in awe.

“April,” I correct him, but he cuts me off with a kiss and moans again when he tastes himself.

He grabs the back of my head and holds me to him as our kiss turns desperate. “Get up here and fuck me.”

Sebastian

I sit up onto my elbows and look around my bedroom to see it’s empty. The sunlight is light as it peeks around the drapes.

“April?”

No reply.

Where is she?

The last thing I remember last night was being wrapped around her like a blanket.

I get up and go to the bathroom. When I go to put on my robe on, it’s not hanging on the back of my bathroom door. Where did I leave it?

I throw on a pair of boxer shorts and make my way downstairs. I stop midway down the staircase and listen.

I can hear an American voice. I can also smell pancakes.

I frown.

I walk down into the kitchen.

“Ow,” April says when she steps over Bentley. “You’re in my way, old man.”

Wearing my navy robe, she stops what she’s doing and holds the saucepan mid-air as she watches something on the television in the living area. I glance over to see what she’s watching. It’s CNN, the American news.

I smile and lean against the doorframe. I keep forgetting she’s not from England.

She returns the frypan to the hotplate and continues cooking. Every now and then, she looks up and stops what she’s doing to watch the television.

She goes to the fridge and takes out some fruit before she begins to slice it up. Watching her, a strange feeling comes over me.

This feels normal. Weirdly normal.

I haven’t done normal for a very long time.

For ten minutes, I watch her. She talks to the dog and watches the news as she cooks and fusses about. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as beautiful and lovely.

She has an air about her. She’s confident but innocent, and yet I know she’s far from innocent. Quite the opposite, actually.

The woman’s a deviant. She fries my fucking brain every time we have sex.

I’ve never, ever come as hard as I do with her. Every time is better than the last, and I don’t know how that’s possible, because every time, I swear it’s the pinnacle.

She glances up and sees me. “Hey, you.” She smiles, walks over, and puts her arms around my neck to kiss me softly.

My heart somersaults at her tender touch. “There’s my robe.” I smile.

She giggles. “This old thing? I thought it was your grandpa’s.”

I chuckle as I slide my hands down to her behind, and we stand in each other’s arms for a while. Her lips linger over mine before she gifts me with another kiss.

“I made you pancakes.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah.” She takes my hand and leads me to the stool at the counter. “Sit down and admire my ass while I finish them.”

“This, I can do.”

“How do you have your coffee?”

“White and one.” I watch her make it. “You don’t have to cook while you’re here, you know.”

“I like to cook.” Her face falls as she passes me my coffee. “Why, does it bother you?”

“No. I mean… I don’t want you thinking you have to.”

She smiles and serves up the pancakes.

“What?”

“It’s so cute that you think I would do something I didn’t want to do.”

I smirk, knowing that’s true.

April arranges the strawberries and bananas on my pancakes.

“Maple syrup?” she asks.

“Please.”

She pours it on and passes it over, and then she sits beside me with her plate.

“No maple syrup for you?” I frown.

“No.” She bites the food from her fork. “I’m sweet enough.”

“Isn’t that the truth?”

She puts her hand on my thigh and leans over to kiss me. She’s right, though. She is sweet and gentle. Everything I’m not.

My heart constricts as I look at her.

She cups my face. “Last night was wonderful, Seb.”

“It was.”

We stare at each other for a moment, and an undercurrent of affection passes between us.

Don’t fuck this up.

I return to eating. “So, is this where I realize that you’ve robbed my house?” I bite the food from my fork.

“Aha,” she giggles. “I cleaned the joint out last night. Man, you have a lot of shit. My back is sore from carrying it all out to your snooty car.”

I smile.

“What are we going to do today?” she asks.

My gaze lifts to hers. There’s a today?

“Umm.” I pause because I don’t really know how to answer that. “What do you want to do?”

“Well, seeing as we can’t leave the house due to the fact that we’re undercover in a secret spy film like Mission Impossible.”

I smirk at her analogy. “This is true.”

“I thought you could give me a foot massage.”

“I think I can manage that.”

She leans over and kisses me again. Then, she rests her cheek against mine, and it’s there again.

This tenderness.

It’s so foreign to me, but so comforting and nice.

I pull away from her and return to eating. “What do I get after I massage your feet?”

“You get to cut my toenails.”

I burst out laughing at her unexpected answer. “Is this some kind of perverted kink?”

She laughs. “Absolutely, Mr. Garcia. You are in for a treat.”

“Can you call the car for me? I need to get home and organize my things for the week,” April says.

After watching a movie on the couch together, I dozed off to sleep.

I sit up. “Of course.” I walk out and text Kevin, asking him to take ‘Tara’ home. His response comes back quickly.

With her wanting to leave, I’m reminded what it’s like when she’s not here. A feeling of loss rolls around in my stomach.

“If I could take you home myself, I would,” I say.

She smiles up at me from her place on the couch. “I know, baby.” She holds her arms up for me. “Come and cuddle me before I go.”

I lie down beside her, and she holds me tightly. I put my head against her shoulder.

I don’t want her to go.

She kisses my temple.

“What are you going to have for dinner?” she asks.

“Why don’t you stay tonight, too?”

She pulls back to look at me. “You can cook your own dinner, Sebastian.”

“I didn’t mean that. I meant…” I stop myself.

“What?” She brushes my hair back from my forehead.

“We could get takeout, so you didn’t have to cook.” I swallow the lump in my throat.

Her eyes search mine. “I haven’t got my clothes washed for work.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

She smiles and kisses me. I know she thinks that I’m joking, I’m deadly serious.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. So tight, I can feel myself squeezing too hard.

“Stay. I need you to stay, Cartier.”

She pulls out of my grip and stands. “Don’t call me that. I told you last night. I don’t like it.”

“It’s just a nickname.”

“One that brings back terrible memories for me.”

I stand, annoyed that she pulled away from me. “How ridiculous. Why would it?”

She watches me. “It doesn’t bring back bad memories for you?”

“Nope.” I walk out into the kitchen. “I happen to like those memories… a lot better than these ones.”

She follows me. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing. Drop it.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “What the hell? You like those memories better than now? What the fuck does that mean?”

I roll my eyes. “Cut the fucking dramatics. You know what I meant.”

“No, I don’t. Explain it to me.” Her eyes hold mine. “Why do you call me Cartier, Sebastian?”

“You know what? Just fucking go home, April. I’m not in the mood for this bullshit.”

She watches me, and I can see her brain working at a million miles per minute. “You liked it when I worked at the Escape Room, didn’t you?”

“Shut up. Go home.”

“Why would you like me better then…?” Her voice trails off, and her face falls. “You’re compartmentalizing me?”

“Now you’re a fucking shrink? Go the fuck home.” I march upstairs.

She storms after me. “You are, aren’t you?” She takes the stairs two at a time. “The way you’re acting now is telling me that I’m right.”

“Just go!” I don’t want her here, and I don’t want to talk about this.

“Sebastian!” she snaps. “Answer the question.”

“What do you fucking know about compartmentalizing?”

“Everything.” She throws up her hands. “I wrote the fucking book on it.”

“Oh, so now everyone is as fucked up as you, are they?”

“I’m not fucked up.” She points to her chest. “And it took me about ten thousand dollars in shrink appointments to be able to admit that.”

I walk into my bathroom and slam the door behind me.

She opens it. “Don’t slam the fucking door on me.”

“Then stop following me!” I yell as I begin to lose my patience.

“Is that what you’re doing?”

I stay silent.

“Sebastian?” she asks softly. “You’re still thinking of me as your Escape Girl.”

I begin to hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I stare at her.

She steps back, as if my lack of words physically hurt her.

“So…I’m just some girl you pay to have sex with?” Her eyes well with tears.

I clench my jaw. “Don’t you dare use tears as a weapon,” I sneer. “That’s not fucking fair.”

Her face falls. “What was last night?”

I stare at her.

She puts her hand over her heart. “While I’m over here falling for you, you think of me as a whore.”

I drop my gaze to the floor. I can’t look her in the eye.

“Sebastian?”

I keep staring down.

“Look at me!” she cries. “Is that fucking true?”

My eyes rise to meet hers. “Just go,” I whisper.

Her eyes search mine. “Answer me.”

“If you wrote the book on compartmentalizing, you should already know the answer.”

Her brow furrows. “I do it to everyone in my life; I hate that I do. I’ve sought treatment for it for years. And then I met you, the one person I couldn’t block out.” Her shoulders slump in sadness. “And you go and do it to me.”

We stare at each other. “April…”

“What, Sebastian?”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Her eyes well with tears again, and she drops her head. “Me, too.”

She turns and walks out.

I hear her go downstairs, and then I hear the garage door open.

Moments later, I hear the car drive off, and I close my eyes in regret.

Fuck.

April

If there’s one thing worse than falling for the wrong man, it’s having to work for him once it’s fallen apart.

We’re in Bristol this week. It’s Tuesday night, and Sebastian hasn’t said one word to me since I left his house on Sunday.

I’m angry at myself.

How the fuck did I let myself fall for him when I knew it was dangerous?

The worst part is, I know he’s not happy, either. He’s been a cranky bear, and everyone is scared to even talk to him.

We are in connecting rooms, but I’m not sure why. He didn’t knock on my door last night. Perhaps it was too late to change the booking.

I didn’t go out to dinner with everyone else. I chose room service alone instead. I’m not much in the mood for socializing. I heard his door open and close about an hour ago, so I know he’s in his room alone, too.

And it sucks.

I hear a faint knock on the door, and I hold my breath.

Is that him?

The lock is on his side, so I lie still in the dark. I reach up and turn my bedside lamp on, my back to his door when I hear it open slowly.

I close my eyes.

The bed dips as he lays down behind me and pulls me into his arms.

He kisses my temple. “I’m sorry.”

I keep lying with my back to him, unsure what to say.

“My demons are dark,” he whispers.

I frown and roll to face him. “Then let me chase them away.”

“They’re too big for us.”

I stare at him for a moment. “What are they?”

He swallows the lump in his throat but stays silent.

I cup his cheek in my hand, whatever he’s dealing with is upsetting him. “Baby, talk to me.”

His eyes search mine.

“Sebastian.”

“I’m fucked up,” he whispers.

I lean in and kiss his lips. “Tell me.”

His brow furrows. “I can’t.” He pauses, and I wait. “I can’t perform unless I’m with a prostitute.”

I frown, confused.

“Unless I know for certain that there is no future with a woman, I can’t even get it up.”

I blink, shocked.

Fuck.