the wood flooring shines under the late afternoon sun coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The only furniture is a TV that I’ve only turned on a few times.
There’s no sofa or rugs. No decorative things or sacred belongings.
I have a bed in the bedroom, a desk and a library in my home office, some utensils in the kitchen, and that’s it.
It’s been a few years since I moved here, but I’ve never felt the need to make it a home.
Which is another reason why I don’t invite people over.
This is where I get to be alone with myself. Where I can drop whatever mask I wore for the day and just exist.
It’s my haven that I don’t want anyone else in.
But I invited someone over.
Naomi.
I stare back at the text I sent her a few days ago. She read it, but she sent no reply to either deny it or confirm.
When I made that offer in my office, I didn’t expect her to take it. She wouldn’t actually do whatever I want just so I’ll stay away from her husband.
Because if she did, that would be no different than agreeing to an affair.
However, she must realize that I won’t let it go with merely groping and licking her. Even after all this time, she has to know that putting my hand around her throat wasn’t enough.
The mere recollection of that day still gets me fucking hard.
Naomi must’ve seen the sadism and need for more in my eyes, which is why she bolted out while she was still able to.
She might not have told me her number, but she left it with Nate when she gave him her card.
Last night was the date I specified in the text.
She didn’t show up.
I don’t know why that made me fucking livid and drove me to googling her name.
Could be because if she did show up, I would get her, but she’s only doing it to keep her husband clueless about us.
Or maybe because her no-show means that she loves her husband enough not to cheat on him.
Fuck.
I’m backpedaling into the bitter asshole I was right after she left, and that jerk and I don’t get along. At all.
After I place my briefcase in my office, I get undressed and step in the shower.
I tip my head back, letting the scorching hot water cascade over me.
My mind is buzzing with strategies for Akira. I need to get close to him, which would force Naomi back into my vicinity.
She refused to come? Fine. I’ll make the choice for her. Or, more like, take it away so she realizes she should’ve never fucked with my newfound life.
Yes, it wasn’t perfect. Yes, it was all jaded and sometimes forced, but it was all mine. It was what I built for myself to escape her fucking ghost.
The doorbell rings and I roll my eyes. It must be Nate. Not only did he put Aspen on my case, but he keeps bugging me as well.
Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and head to the door.
I look through the peephole to make sure it’s not the talkative old lady from next door. While she’s friendly and gives me homemade food sometimes, she can chat for hours on end.
It’s not Nate or even the talkative lady.
It’s…her.
The fucking nightmare.
The twisted dream.
Naomi.
She’s wearing an elegant dark blue dress, her hair is styled, and her lips are painted the color of blood.
Her gaze shifts to the side and she gulps, which means she’s nervous and out of her depth.
Naomi is here. Even if it’s a day late.
Seeing her in front of my door all pretty and done up awakens something inside me.
The beast that’s been dormant since she left.
The beast that I thought would someday rip his way out of my chest.
That someday is today.
The longer I stand here not opening the door, the more she fidgets, watching her surroundings.
The new Naomi doesn’t get anxious or show her vulnerabilities. She doesn’t have her lips parted or allow her eyes to widen.
She’s a blank, respectable slate—like her husband.
Not this Naomi.
This is different. She’s different from the person at the charity event or even in my office.
That version was for the public, this one’s for me.
And because she came to me on her own accord, there’s no way in fuck I’m letting her slip between my fingers.
I don’t open the door right away, though. She needs to have to wait like I did for seven years.
By the end of tonight,