RUBY
..
I step outside my dorm and pop open my umbrella. The rain started three days ago and hasn't let up since. I sigh at another day wasted knowing I won't be able to capture the shots of the arboretum in the park for my photography class. I look at the time and realize I only have twenty minutes to make it across campus to the communications building in time to sign out a rental camera. The good thing about the art program is the option to rent their equipment. The bad thing is I'm not the only poor student depending on the school to get my work done. I've thought about taking the expensive dress hanging in my closet and pawning it for money to buy my own camera. I'm sure I could find a nice refurbished one to get the job done.
I get moving, fighting my umbrella. The wind in Chicago is fierce. If I make it to class without it flipping inside out under a billion times, it will be considered a success. The campus is quiet, students smarter than I, staying in their dorm rooms, instead of venturing out in the monsoon. But the weather out here is less gloomy than being in my room.
Jisoo is still barely talking to me, and by barely, I mean not at all. After Lisa dropped me off without a goodbye, I tried calling her to confess everything. That didn't go as planned since she didn't answer my calls or texts. I just wanted to lay all my cards on the table and be honest about what had been happening. I'm sick of hiding behind this blackmail and abiding by a contract that's far from who I really am, with a woman who's becoming a headache. She dropped me off without a word and that was that. Three days, and nothing but silence. But I'm fine with it. I'm done playing games. She may see me as weak. But I know who I really am. And that's why I'm done hiding behind the contract, the lies, and the blackmail.
Now, I just need Jisoo to speak to me.
Hurrying past the union, I make it to the communication building and take the steps two at a time. The building just opened, so there's no way all cameras have been checked out this quick. Down two hallways, and I knock on the rental office door before twisting the knob.
"Hello?" I call out to the student services staff.
"Oh, hello there, Ruby."
"Hey, Will," I greet him with a smile. "Here to check out a camera." I beam. Today's gonna be my day.
His smile falls. "Yeah, about that…"
He has to be kidding me. "It's like exactly seven forty-five. How can all the cameras be checked out?"
He shakes his head. "No idea, but they are. I came in this morning and not a single one is here. I'm sorry. I was even going to hide one for you. I know you've really been wanting one."
Wanting one? He means needing one. I can't do any of my photography work without one. "Maybe use your camera on your phone. They have some cool apps nowadays. Mr. Harrison probably wouldn't know the difference."
He's trying to be kind, but it's not helping. I try to mask the disappointment in my face. "Yeah, I'll try that. Thanks anyway, Will. See you in class." I wave him off and leave. Go figure the wind has picked up and the rain is coming down even harder than before. The moment I step outside, my umbrella flips inside out.
"Goddammit!" I wrestle with it until it's lipped back, just for it to get caught in another gust of wind and flip outward again. "Why didn't we apply to somewhere like California?" I ask myself as I hold my umbrella down with one hand and start to book it across campus. When I finally make it to Haller Hall, I'm soaked. I debate on just blowing off class and going home—getting into warm clothes and sleeping the day away. But I skipped Pysch on Monday, for no reason other than to avoid Rosé. I need to go today.
I run up the stairs just as my umbrella takes one last pop and the lining breaks. I try to save it, but the wind wrestles it out of my hands. One bad move and it's gone. "Seriously. California…" I mutter, turning and heading inside.
I'm wiping the rain off my soaked face when I hear giggling. "Oh my God, you're like a drowned mouse." More obnoxious giggling. I bring my eyes to Rosé and her entourage.
"The phrase is actually a drowned rat, but…" I reply.
"Excuse me?"
"The saying. It's a rat, not a mouse. If you're going to make lame attempts to insult people, you should use the correct terminology."
"Seriously? What, did you get that out of your book of nerd facts?" Her posse starts laughing again as if she just said the world's funniest thing. Ignoring her, I shake my head, trying to get rid of some of the excess water in my hair. I sidestep her and don't have time to process what happens before she sticks her foot out and my backpack flies off my shoulder and slides across the hall as my hands go out to catch myself before my face meets the ground.
"Wow, Ruby, you really need to be more careful," Rosé says, pulling her heel-clad foot back toward her before they all walk past me into class. I'm fighting not to cry as I reach over and grab for my bookbag. Two hands beat me to it.
"Hey, let me help you." I look up to see Chanyeol holding my bag. Great. "Here, give me your hand. It's slippery." I want to tell him to just leave me alone—especially since the last time I saw him, I was deep in a fight with Lisa on the dance floor of her sex club.
"I've got it. Thanks, though." I lift myself up, sliding a bit as I steady myself.
"Don't pay attention to Rosé. She doesn't know how to be anything but a bitch." He hands me my backpack.
"She doesn't faze me," I lie. "Thank you. I've gotta get to class." I move to walk past Chanyeol when he stops me with a gentle hand on my elbow.
"Hey, I wanted to apologize for Friday night. I…uh…I should have never left you with that crazy girl. It was a dick move."
In all the drama with Lisa, I never put thought to him feeling bad. I was more worried about how it looked watching us fight like two lovers in a quarrel. "Oh no, it's cool. No problem. I don't know what I was even thinking going there."
"So, you're not mad at me?"
I offer him a small smile. "Not at all."
He looks relieved. "Good. So, maybe I can make it up to you? Unless, that was, like, your girlfriend or something. I didn't know what to think of you two."
At that, I laugh. Lisa Manoban, my girlfriend? She doesn't have a single girlfriend material bone in her arrogant body. "No, Chan, she is most definitely not my girlfriend."
"Oh, okay, 'cause it kinda looked like—"
"It looked like we all got caught where we shouldn't have been. I guess she just singled me out. Trust me, I got tossed out just like you did."
I fail to tell him I got tossed onto her bed and fucked until I couldn't see straight. But that's beside the point. It's also history, so it doesn't matter.
"Well…cool. I'm glad. I was bummin' out thinking I didn't have another chance."
We stand there, silently offering one another a kind smile, until I look at my watch and realize class is starting. "Shit, we better get in. We both know Ms. Phillips is a stickler on tardiness."
He waves his hand out, offering for me to go first, and steadies my waist when I almost slip again on the wet floor.
..
..
"…so be prepared to have a quiz on the scientific investigation of mental behavior and how it is analyzed by environmental causes." Ms. Phillips writes the page numbers to read for our assignment. I'm still finishing the notes she put up on the board when a knock comes from the classroom door.
Everyone turns their attention to the door, including me, and I wish I hadn't. Through the window, I spot Fredrick. A ball of nerves forms in the pit of my belly. After the way things ended on Saturday, I didn't know if I would hear from Lisa again. Everything between us always seems to be a struggle. I spent the last three days at war with what I really wanted. If she thought I was this helpless girl who couldn't fight my own battles, she had another thing coming. It was my silence if she ever attempted to call on me again. But then, at night, while I laid in bed thinking about her, I secretly hoped she would call me, demand I come to her. But she didn't. And now, I don't know what to feel. I don't have to look at Ms. Phillips to know she's most likely wearing a frown when she walks over to address Fredrick.
I'm not sure how, but they seem to know each other. A question I don't dare to ask right now. They make small talk once again, and he hands her a box, medium in size. She says her goodbyes, then her eyes are on me.
Shit.
She walks up to me and not so kindly drops the box on the desk. "Will you be expecting anything else today, Ms. Jane? Or should I keep the door open, just in case?"
The classroom laughs, and a few low whistles sound out.
"No, sorry. I'm not sure who even gave that guy a job at the post office. But I'll make sure to let a manager know as soon as possible." Her unhappy glare says she clearly doesn't believe me. Or she knows he doesn't work at the post office. Another question I'm curious to get answered.
The remainder of class is torture. I'm too afraid to open the box or even the card attached to it knowing it may send my professor over the edge. I'm certain Rosé is just as curious. The second class ends, I pop out of my chair and stuff my things into my bag. I make the mistake of catching eyes with Chanyeol, who smiles and looks to be heading my way. I wave, giving him the universal "see ya around" smile, and jet out the door. I head down the hallway, stopping in the bathroom on the other side of the building so Rosé doesn't find me. Once the stall is shut, I toss my bag to the ground and tear the card off the box.
I don't realize my hands are shaking until I pull the small notecard from its casing and read the handwritten note.
Meet me at this address tonight at 9 p.m. Do not open the box until then.
124 Michigan Ave.
-L
I don't realize I'm holding my breath until sudden waves of dizziness strike me. I let out a gust of air and refill my lungs. The anticipation of what's in the box kills me. It can't be clothes. It's too heavy. Unless she has a ball gag and chains inside. Probably is, since it may be the only way she'll ever get me to comply. A spark of defiance sets fire to me. I press my fingernails into the crease of the wrapping but stop.
"Oh, come on. Just open it."
But my hand doesn't move.
"Dammit!" I stomp my foot and bend down, grabbing my bag. Opening it, I stuff the damn box inside, barely leaving room to close it, and leave the bathroom, keeping an eye out for my enemy as I race to my second class.
..
..
..
"You have got to be kidding me!' I growl, feeling duped. I stare up at the place where the Uber driver dropped me off with anger seeping out of my pores. The Museum of Art.
"Nice joke," I grumble, feeling like a fool for actually obeying her. I should have sent her a text, telling her to piss off. I was not going to take her orders any longer. I didn't care about the contract or what was going to happen to Jisoo's life of sisterhood. The more time that passed, the more I realized it wasn't worth it. Here I am, doing God knows what to help her, when she can't even pick up the phone and talk to me. Clearly, I was wrong about how strong our friendship was to begin with.
I toss the card with the address on it and turn to hail a cab home when Fredrick pops up out of nowhere.
"Ms. Jane."
"What, you here to snap a pic to take back to your leader? Show her I fell for this shit? Well, have at it, pal." I lift both my hands and give him two middle fingers.
"If you can follow me, please," he says, then walks back to where he came from.
"What? Why? Where are you going?" I yell to his back. In typical Fredrick fashion, he doesn't wait for me, or respond. He gives me no choice but to leave or follow. Of course, I follow. It takes me a few steps to catch up to him. By the time I do, he's opening a door at the side entrance and waiting for me to walk through.
"Where are we going? Isn't this place, like, closed? Or is this a setup? A way to get rid of me? Set me up for trespassing?" He looks like he's debating it. I stop. Yeah, I'm not going in there.
"If I wanted to get rid of you, I wouldn't put this much effort into it. Now, please. She's waiting." That answer does not settle the uncertainty swirling in my stomach. "Will you be coming in or not, Ms. Jane?"
Run or take my chances… Run or take my chances… "Oh hell, I'm coming," I say, surprising myself. I step inside and listen as the door falls shut. Fredrick is once again on the move, and I'm struggling to keep up with him.
"If this is your idea of wearing me out so it's harder for me to struggle later, it's not working. I have the stamina of a bull," I say, semi out of breath. Where in heavens is he taking me? We walk through a bunch of back hallways, and I try to memorize the way just in case. Finally, he opens a door, and we pop out into a large open room. Dozens of lit candles illuminate the room, a warm flickering glow hitting the artwork displayed against the walls.
"Where are—?"
"Thank you, Fredrick. I won't be needing you the rest of the night."
I whip my head to the left, spotting Lisa. She's standing just a few feet away, in her typical suit attire, her hands hidden within her pants pockets. Goosebumps splay over my skin at how damn delicious she looks.
"Ruby." My name falls from her perfect lips, her deep voice causing my traitorous nipples to perk. I want to deny the way she makes me feel, stick to the fact that she's an arrogant jerk, but my body doesn't seem to want to stick to the plan at all.
"Why am I here? What are you up to now, besides illegal entry of a famous art museum?"
She takes a step toward me. "I have a friend who owes me a favor. Did you bring the box?" Another step closer, and my cheeks start to feel hot.
I pull the box out of my bag. "This one? What is it? Something to help me comply? Be a better pet?"
Another step. "Depends. Do you want to be my pet?"
Goddammit. My thighs begin to tremble. I will be no one's pet, but…to be hers, all hers… "Not a chance," I reply, an unfamiliar hoarseness in my tone.
My false words don't go unnoticed as she smiles, taking one last step, leaving barely a hairsbreadth between us. "Open the box."
I want to rebel. Tell her no just to spite her. But my body wants to do anything to please her. Her smile widens. She knows she'll win. She waits while I give in and begin to unwrap the box. When I get a peek at what's underneath, my breath seizes in my lungs.
"What…" I barely get the words out as I tear the final piece of wrapping away from the box. I look up. "Lisa, this is a—"
"Do you like it?"
I look back down at the box, and the Leica M10 Digital Rangefinder Camera stares back at me. Ever since I was a little kid, I've been in love with photography. I would make my dad take me all over town to the electronic shops to play with all the models. My dad would smile as I pretended I was famous, taking my still shots. He would fill my heart with promise, telling me my own work would hang in a famous gallery one day. Back then, we couldn't afford an expensive camera, but when luck struck, my dad would bring home an old camera someone was selling at a garage sale. It wasn't the new flashy model I had just played with at the store. It was better. It had history. When the time came when I could afford one on my own, I wasn't going to put my money on the newest models. The fancy ones with the fastest shutter speed and memory. I would go in search for the old fashion models. The ones that took photos just like in the olden days, capturing life's moments in its purity.
I raise my head back to meet her. "Lisa, these are, like, ten-thousand-dollar cameras. I can't accept this."
"I didn't ask if you could. I asked if you liked it."
"Of course I do. This is…I've dreamt about one day owning one of these."
"Well, now you do." She takes the box out of my hands and sets it down on a table holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
"I can't accept this."
She brings her open palm to my face, caressing my warm cheek. "You can. Because it's my way of saying I was wrong for the things I said the other day."
"You don't need to buy me anything to say you're sorry."
"I didn't say I was sorry. I said I was wrong for the things I said."
"Isn't that the same thing?"
Her hand lowers past my chin to my neck, her fingers gently teasing my skin. There is never a time where she doesn't radiate dominance, even now. Her fingers halt at the baseline of my neck, and her eyes locked onto that spot. I want to ask her what she's doing, thinking about…if she wants me as badly as I want her.
"Take a walk with me." She finally speaks, breaking the spell. Her fingers release me and fall to her side. Disappointment strikes me, but I do my best to hide it. I follow in step with her as she walks us through the low-lit gallery. A few minutes pass before she stops in front of a painting. "Do you know who this is?"
I observe the artwork. "No," I reply, not familiar.
"His name is Caio Fonseca. Formally from New York, but now spends most of his time in Tuscany where he has his current studio."
I continue to stare at the abstract design, confused where she's going with this. "His father was a painter. And his father before that. It was his legacy to follow in their footsteps. He studied in Paris and Italy. Quite talented. Made a name for himself before returning back to the States. There was an article published about him. He spoke about his life and his career. He called himself the painter with two lives."
She pauses for a moment. "He explained not everything is as it seems. We may all look perfect on the outside, but on the inside, we may be living a different life. Everyone has two of them. The life they allow people to see, and the one hidden deep inside we as humans all crave. He considered his paintings the same way. Like a two-sided mirror. What one sees might not be what another one does." She ends on that and turns to walk away.
"Wait. I don't get it. What does all that mean?"
She stops to address me. "It means not everything, or everyone, is as it seems, Ruby." Then continues to walk, forcing me to follow.
Only a few more steps, then she stops at another painting. "Do you know this one?"
I look at the artwork. "No."
"I thought you were a lover of art?" She smirks, then dodges my slap to her shoulder.
"I am. Just because I don't know two paintings doesn't mean I don't love art."
"Fair enough. Tell me what you see."
I look at the painting. It's of a woman and a man, both wearing a cover of some sort over their heads. They seem to be kissing. "They look sad. Unsure. Maybe unaware of who they really are." I turn to Lisa, who offers me a nod of approval.
"Very good. It's titled The Lovers. Painted by René Margritte in nineteen-twenty-eight. The meaning behind it suggests imprisonment of the couple. Possibly a lonely relationship. They may seem to be kissing, but their lips never touch. A masterpiece of sexual frustration, one might say."
"And why the art lesson on this specific piece?" I ask.
"It's telling you, or more like showing you, the inability to expose the true nature of your most intimate desires. Possibly companions." She winks at me and walks off.
"Wait! You're seriously confusing me right now. I'm not understanding all this hidden meaning crap."
Just like before, she walks until she finds another painting to stop at. "Do you know who this is?"
"Lisa," I warn.
"Just humor me. And if you're good, I'll reward you with the answers you desire."
I frown and turn to the painting. This one, I actually do recognize. "Of course, it's Van Gogh. Who doesn't know his work?"
Lisa is quiet while admiring the painting. "He didn't become famous until after his death. He had a hard life. Suffered from depression, mental illness. His work, though, is remarkable. Did you know he failed as an artist when he was alive? Barely sold his work. They say he went mad over the loss of love. The history books claim he only had his brother. His letters to his brother, Theo, are published. Sad, many of them. But you can feel the love he felt. Also, the loneliness in them. Vincent died in eighteen-eighty. His brother, six months later. Buried next to one another, as a matter of fact."
I turn to Lisa when she becomes quiet. I wait for her to continue, but it seems she's lost in the way the painting of the flowers stares back at her.
"What are you trying to tell me?"
She turns to face me. Her hands leave her sides to reach up and cup my face. Her head dips, and her lips perfectly press against mine. I don't expect this side of her. I wonder for a quick moment if this is all a dream. With the tantalizing scent of her surrounding me, the warmth of her mouth on mine, I know this is real. Too soon, she pulls away, her eyes glowing with what I've learned to be passion.
"Let's walk."
I don't hide the grunted noise of frustration as she steps away from me again and proceeds to walk away.
"Lisa. Stop." She doesn't, and I'm forced to pick up my step, almost running to catch up with her. When I reach her, I grab for her shoulder and tug for her to halt. She gives in with no fight and turns to me.
"Why do you let those shits speak to you like that?"
"What? Rosé? This is about me—"
"Answer the question."
"I don't know. It's just easier to ignore than engage. I won't play their games."
"But aren't you? You've found yourself in bed with me who's no good for you because you engaged."
This sudden change is confusing me. The naive part of me feels like she wants to tell me something very personal. Open up to me. But the logical part warns me to keep my guard up. A woman like Lisa softens for no one, and her mind games might be worse than anything Rosé can throw at me.
"Okay, fine. You're right. I let my guard down and they won. But I'm done playing her games. Being afraid of her threats. If she wants to ruin my friendship, she can have at it. I'm not sure the real friendship was there in the first place."
She steps closer to me. "And our contract? Do you not feel abided to adhere to it then?"
My skin shivers at the way she's looking at me. Her eyes are intense. She's not just patiently waiting for me to reply, she's mentally eating me alive. She licks her lips, and my belly tightens. If she even attempted to touch me right now, I would combust. I'm not sure what sort of game she's trying to play with me, but there's a strong feeling I'm going to lose it.
"You don't own me. No one does. I'm here because I choose to be. Not because you have any control over me."
Her arm is up, and her hand clasps quickly and tightly around my neck. With all her strength, she pulls me to her, and her mouth lands roughly against mine. She fuses her lips to mine and kisses me hard, showing no sign of releasing me until she's taken what she wants. But I'm okay with that. I kiss her back with the same fervor. In no time, her free hand wraps around my butt cheek and she's lifting me with one arm up, my legs wrapping around her.
"I find your boldness sexy as fuck, Ms. Jane," she hums into my mouth as she backs us up against the wall. I worry about knocking into a painting. I rip my mouth away to twist my head in fear. "Oh my God, is that a Cézanne?" I panic, staring at the famous piece hanging next to me.
"Ah, yes, the Table, Napkin, and Fruit. One of his most famous works." She drops her lips to my neck and sucks on my skin.
"Lisa, if we knock it over…"
She pulls us off the wall, and I feel instant relief knowing I won't have to live out the remainder of my life in guilt over ruining a hundred-year-old masterpiece. She carries us down an unfamiliar gallery hallway as I sneak peeks at the famous paintings. Never in my life would I have pictured myself in such a famous museum, late at night, about to do extremely inappropriate things.
I wait for us to pop out in the cafeteria or somewhere more appropriate, but when she enters a new room, my breath catches as I take in my surroundings. "Lisa, are we in the Leonardo Da Vinci exhibit?" Holy shit, we are. As much as I'm loving how turned on and sexy Lisa is right now, my urge to threaten her to put me down so I can appreciate the paintings may be taking over.
"See something you like?" Lisa chuckles and with two short steps, she has my back implanted against the wall. Her lips are warm and smooth on my skin. She runs her mouth across my shoulder blade, stopping at my collarbone. Heat builds between my legs as her tongue glides down the center of my chest until she latches on to my hard nipple through my thin shirt. I planned on answering her that set of portraits of Isabella d'Este are fantastic, but my words are lodged in my throat. Her teeth bite down, and the sensation of pure pleasure stifle a soft moan from my lips.
"Tell me what you feel right now," she hums, squeezing my breast through the fabric, kneading my flesh. My hands thread into her scalp, holding her head closer to me.
"I feel empowered." Because I do. Being in this room, with such exquisiteness, it makes me feel just as beautiful.
"You belong on these walls, you know," she says, moving to my other breast. "Displayed for the world to see, such purity and beauty." She releases her tight hold on my breast, skimming down my side, past my ribcage, and working at the hem of my leggings. "But behind every piece of art is a hidden message."
"And what would mine be?" I moan as her hands find their way into my pants past the barrier of my underwear.
"You aren't innocent. You crave defiance. You want me to take you up against this wall and fuck you right next to one of the most famous drawings in the world. You want to lose yourself in my touch, my fingers, have me fuck you as you scream, my name echoing off every single piece of history in this room." A single finger dips into my sex, pumping slowly. "Tell me, Ruby, how do you feel?"
"Alive," I moan.
She pulls her finger out, then roughly thrusts two back in. "You are empowered. You have more control than you realize." She replaces two fingers with three. Her movement quickens. I'm losing focus on anything but the way her fingers feel. So deep. The fullness of them brushing against my inner walls.
"I need to fuck you," she growls, pulling free of me. She's wild with need, tearing at my leggings, bringing them down past my hips. She works her cock out of her pants and plunges inside me.
She's not gentle. She doesn't keep a consistent pace. I experience a side of her that's new. Wild and uncontrolled. She isn't the woman who holds the power. I do. I can't help but lose myself in the thought that maybe I'm changing her. Showing her life isn't always about being in control. Having the upper hand and feeling in charge, I tangle my fingers in her hair, gripping to a point of pain, which only causes her to lose more restraint.
"Lisa," I moan her name, feeling full and at the brink of my orgasm. Just weeks ago, I didn't know what it could be like to feel such emotion, but now, I couldn't imagine never knowing just how far someone sexually, psychically, emotionally can be pushed. "Oh God, I can't last much longer. I'm going to… Oh God, I'm…" I fade off as my walls crush around her, and my eyes close as the blast through every nerve ending explodes throughout my body.
"Goddammit!" Lisa growls, slamming into me three more times, and I listen in fear a painting will detach from its anchor and crash to the ground. She expands even larger, then loses herself inside me.
..
We're laying on the floor of the museum, my head resting on her chest, enjoying the silence and comforts of one another. Lisa has yet to fully dress. There're no complaints out of me since it allows me to admire just how sexy she is. Her arms are stretched above her head, her biceps flexed and inviting. Running my fingers down her stomach, I'm tempted to pinch myself to see if this is a dream. Never in a billion years would I think I would be laying with a woman of her stature chasing the highs of the best orgasm ever. In a historic museum at that. Feeling bold, I place my lips to her chest and spread small kisses over her heart.
"I was just like you once, you know."
I lift my head. "Like what?"
"Ambitious."
At that, I laugh. "I'm pretty sure you're still ambitious." If the soreness between my legs doesn't prove so, I don't know what does.
"I don't mean that, you dirty girl. I mean in life. This wasn't my dream."
I push off her, fully sitting. "What do you mean?"
Lisa adjusts her elbows to prop herself up. "This life. The club. It wasn't my life. I didn't choose it. My father did."
Her confession brings me back to the first painting. The man with two lives. One who is living a life on the outside, but on the inside, in his heart, he lives another.
"The painting. You were relating to it." It's more of a statement than a question. "Ask me how I know so much about art."
Huh? She smiles and sits up, grabbing me and flipping me so I'm now on my back, her body hovering over me. "Ask me."
"How do you know so much about art?"
"I went to school for it. Studied in Paris for two years. I wanted to travel, learn about architecture, photograph the entire world the way I saw it."
"And why didn't you?" I ask, already saddened by her upcoming answer.
"I was next in line to take over my father's legacy."
"Why didn't you just say no? It's your life, not his."
She brushes a loose strand of hair away from my face. "I did." She doesn't continue with the rest of her answer. She seems to disappear into her head for a quick moment before realizing her actions. "I was technically never meant to step in line to take over Exquisite. My brother was."
Her words shock me. I didn't realize she had a brother. Not that we've gotten into any deep conversations about ourselves. "And why didn't he? Did he not want it? Where's he now?"
"Dead."
I gasp. "Oh, Lisa, I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she says, raising her lips to mine for a sweet, short kiss. "It was a long time ago."
Time or not, it's still a moment in her life that will forever affect her. Her brother and her dad, both gone. My heart aches to know she has no one. I lift my hand to caress her cheek. "Still, I'm sorry you had to endure such sadness."
There is no hiding the pain in her eyes. She may think she's over it, or mastered hiding the emotions, but they still live deep inside her. "I was nineteen when it happened. I was overseas in Prague, a three-month graffiti and urban art tour, when my instructor was notified to send me home. My brother and father were in an accident. My father was drunk. So was my brother. They had no boundaries when it came to rules. My father lived and died Exquisite, and James was just like him. We were close. He practically raised me while my father raised his club. When my father refused to pay for my schooling, telling me I was a fairy for wanting to explore art, my brother secretly paid for it. He allowed me to do what I truly loved. But when they died, it left only me to step in."
Jesus. I don't know what to say. There isn't anything that can justify all the hardship she bared. I want to tell her how sorry I am, but now I see how petty those words are. Then it hits me. "The camera. It was yours."
She nods. "My father died instantly, from what I was told. Motherfucker wasn't wearing his seatbelt and went right through the windshield into a tree, snapping his neck. My brother didn't have the same fate. He suffered. Spent weeks on a ventilator. If he ever woke up, he would have been paralyzed. His brain activity was dead. The hospital tried to convince me time and time again to let him go. He was already gone. But I refused. No way could the one person I loved be gone. In time, I realized what they had been trying to tell me since the moment he was wheeled into the hospital. He was gone, and I was alone."
The first tear slides down the side of my face. I want to be strong and listen to her story, but I can't stop them. It's as if I'm experiencing the pain all over again with her. Suffering the sadness through her tormented eyes. It suddenly makes sense about the Van Gogh painting and the mention of the love she shared with her brother. "You did the right thing. It was time to let his body rest."
"I wasn't given much of a choice either way. The hospital wanted payment, and…well, I had no means to pay. Fredrick was my father's right-hand man, so he stepped in and took care of everything. He brought me to Exquisite and basically sat me in my father's throne, telling me it was my job to adhere in my father's wishes."
My emotions are rapid as my sadness turns to anger. How dare Fredrick do that to a grieving girl. Nineteen may be old enough to be on her own, but to throw a sex club in her lap after losing her brother and father is just wrong. "I knew there was a reason I didn't like Fredrick," I spit out, angry for him.
Lisa shows me a small smile. "You getting all feisty on me, pet?" She laughs, sitting up and kissing the bottom of my chin.
"I'm getting mad at a guy who shouldn't have taken advantage of you. Why didn't he run the club?"
"Oh, trust me, I'm sure he wanted to. He didn't spend half his life being my father's dog, just to become mine. But you have good instincts, same as me. I didn't trust him. I wasn't convinced he didn't have something to do with their death to win over the seat. It took me years to drop the theory. But now, he's learned his place. In the past few years, he's made some poor judgments, but soon, he won't be an issue for me."
"Why?"
She seems to stall, unsure if she's willing to answer my question. She looks at her watch, then stands, sticking her hand out to me. "We have to get out of here. Let's go." Disappointed, I take her hand, and she assists me to my feet. She doesn't let my hand go as she directs us through the gallery. When the main door Fredrick brought me out of appears, Lisa turns to me.
"I'm selling Exquisite." My mouth drops as she continues. "I've been researching investors for months now. I'm done with it. I have been for years. You asked me why I had you look at the numbers? Because I wanted to see if there was a chance to salvage it. Turn it into a legit club instead of all the shit that goes on there. I'm done with it all. I just needed a good reason to walk away."
The way she's looking at me, I feel like I already know the answer before I ask the question. "And what is your reason?"
"You."
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LISA
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"Get me the draft of the contract by this afternoon. I'll read it over and have notes for you before close of business today. Thanks, Simmons." I hang up as I walk through the bright club, heading back to my office. My morning was spent with a group of buyers interested in Exquisite.
Since the art museum, I feel lighter. Freer. I've never opened up to anyone about my brother and father. How I obtained the club. There has never been a single person in my life who has triggered such purpose for me. Ruby began as a conquest, a game—a way to pass along my time being numb. She was supposed to keep me entertained, until she dulled for me, and then I'd send her on her way. Because that's how I've handled women in my life. As toys to fill time. But they never could fill the emptiness inside me. Until her.
She's young and too innocent for me, and for that, I should walk away. But I plan on keeping her close and feeding off her beauty and solace until our time together is up. Because sadly, there is an expiration date. I won't take her away from her dreams as someone once did mine. But I also can't stay here.
When she opened the camera, it brought back so many memories. The moment I bought it. The excitement flowing through my veins knowing all the adventures it would capture. When it got delivered to the address in Prague, I was already home. It took months for the tour to send it back to me. By the time it made it, I was already knee-deep in Exquisite. I never even opened the fucking box.
But the way her eyes lit up when she saw it, it brought me peace. I knew she would use it as I would have. And I know once our time is up and I'm done disrupting her simple life, she'll continue to be amazing at anything she does.
I walk through the side bar and across the dance floor. I think about tonight and how I'm going to take Ruby to Navy Pier. The mental image of her sucking my cock on the Ferris wheel hardens me instantly. But the image of her face as she admires the view softens my heart. She's going to love it. I sent her a text, telling her to meet me at the address just before dusk, and to bring the camera. I'm about to enter the private hallway when I see Fredrick talking closely with a woman.
"Jihyo?" I ask, surprised to see her here. "It's been some time since I've seen you in this place," I say, curious. Almost ten years, as a matter of fact. I bring my eyes to Fredrick, whose stare is blank. "What brings you here today?" I step up to her, and we hug. I offer her a kiss on her cheek just as I've always done in the past.
"Is there a place where we can chat? In private?" she asks. I nod, escorting her to my office. The moment I shut the door, she begins. "What are you up to, Lisa?"
"I'm not sure what you're asking." I sit down at my desk. Instead of taking the seat across from me, she sits on top of my desk, close enough that her thigh brushes against my arm.
"Ruby Jane. What are you doing? She's a child. And Fredrick says a major distraction to the club."
My fingers tighten around my armchair. "That is none of your business. Neither is the club anymore. If that's why you've come here, you can get the fuck out." She doesn't flinch or seem affected by my verbal threat. She spreads her legs so her thigh brushes harder against me. "Get off my desk."
"I've missed that mouth of yours. The anger. It reminds me of us back in the days when I—"
I cut her off by standing and removing her from my desk myself. "That was years ago, Jihyo. You don't work here anymore. You're not a member. Nothing that happens here involves you. It hasn't for a long time."
This time, she doesn't hide her frustration. "Your father would be disgusted with you. He would never have allowed you to run around with a mindless child—"
"That's your second warning. Mention her one more time, and I will personally throw you out. My father is fucking dead. He's been dead for a very long fucking time. I don't care what he meant to you, but your relationship with him and this club died the day he did."
My words are meant to hurt, and they do. She looks as if I physically hit her. "You forget about my private stocks in this club. You cannot sell without my sign off. Your father made sure of that."
"Not for long. I'll make sure you're compensated for your portion. But this club is done." I walk to my office door and toss it open. "Let it go, Jihyo. It's over."
She doesn't say another word. She storms past me, and before she has a chance to turn around, I slam the door in her face.
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My mood doesn't shift until the moment I see her. The way she's dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a black tank top. Why had I ever thought to dress her up when she looks fucking breathtaking being herself? I'm mad I even suggested this now, since all I want to do is take her back to my loft and fuck her into tomorrow. I may just have her sucking my dick on top of the Ferris wheel after all.
"You look like you're up to something," she says as she approaches.
"And what do you think that is, Ms. Jane?" I grab her hand and draw her into me, needing to touch her. Her smile sends a jolt straight to my dick. Everything about her makes me hard and my blood pumping through my veins. I kiss the top of her head, then pull away just enough for her to look up at me.
"Well, I'm not sure if it's illegal yet. The park seems to still be open, so we're not trespassing tonight."
I can't stop myself from placing my lips against hers, and I love how compliant she is when I do. Her lips mold against mine like perfection, then part, allowing my tongue entrance. I knew I should have held off kissing her. Having the taste of her sweet mouth against mine is fucking with my head. I pull away.
"Forget these plans. We're going back to my loft." I grab for her hand and tug her toward the exit, but she stops me.
"I don't think so, buddy. You're showing me what you brought me here to see. No booty time until then." I turn, annoyed she just told me no. Even more so that she called me her buddy. I storm back to her, wrap my hand around her neck, and slam my mouth down on hers. This time, my kiss isn't sweet or patient. It's brutal and taking. Once she's in need of air, I pull away and am rewarded with her glazed over eyes.
"Don't ever call me your buddy. The way I'm going to suck and fuck and bite your cunt until you scream my name says I am definitely not your buddy." I'm not particularly mad she told me no. I'm starting to enjoy the way she challenges me. But referring to me as a pal or a friend, and not the one who's been deep inside her, breaking her down until she realizes how fucking special she really is, is unacceptable.
"Wow, okay then." She sighs as she begins to blink away the lust I've fed her. "What do I call you then? Master, maybe?" I go to grab for her, but she jumps back.
"Get over here," I demand.
Her laughter fills the air. "Nah, not until we clear the air. Or do you like madam? Daddy?" She jumps when I come at her and she takes off running down the pier. The wind is in full effect, catching the sound of her beautiful laugh and blowing it past me. I try to catch up to her, but she's quick and able to shift in and out of the busy crowd. I finally make it to the end of the pier when I catch her. My arms wrap around her waist, and she squeals in pure delight. I whip her around ready to scold her for running from me, but that's not what I do. I kiss her again and again. And I swear, in that moment, I never want to stop.
A group of punk kids hollering causes us to break apart.
"All right, you win. Should I just stick to Son of Satan?"
I can't fight the smile growing to match hers. I pull her into me, hugging her body to mine. "I'll settle with that. As long as I'm allowed to call you mine."
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