Maybe we can stop doing the whole pen pal thing then (sorry, I know you hate when I call you that) and become good friends in real life. Or, you know… we hate each other so much that we stop sending emails to one another (I think this point might actually persuade you in my favor).
Zach… are you ready to do something reckless?
You crazy pen pal (haha),
P
P.S.: I know you live abroad, but you mentioned coming back? Plus, you are rich. You should be able to come. You are always welcome to send me a ticket to wherever you are though.
P.S.S.: I’m totally kidding about the whole ticket thing. Or maybe I’m not?
3 hours later
To: P
From: Zach
That’s what comes to your mind while you are doing your history class assignment? Should I be worried for your academic skills and what actually stays in your head? After all, you want to be a doctor.
I’ve already turned twenty-one, and I celebrated that shit on a yacht in the Mediterranean Sea. (So yeah, rich as fuck).
Unless you were holding on to something big while waiting to turn eighteen or twenty-one, I don’t get why you think those dates are significant?
The only upside to turning twenty-one was getting my hands on my mom’s trust fund and investing it in several stocks, increasing my inheritance before I can create my own company. I finished my degree, and I’m back in the States for the time being, although still plan to get my master’s.
Subtle really about mentioning the previous email, and since you are so curious, I can answer.
I did try to talk to him, but it ended in another argument when he announced that he was going to sell my mother’s estate home as it’s just standing unused. (Hence me investing in stock and all that. Guess who plans to buy it from him once it’s for sale?)
Honestly?
Don’t give a fuck about love, and I’m old enough to stop chasing Daddy’s love.
Now, let’s come back to your ridiculous yet oddly interesting (or should I say intriguing?) idea.
Besides all that romantic crap (laughed too hard at that one), it has an appeal. You already know a lot about me, wouldn’t mind actually putting a face to the words (us seeing each other as kids doesn’t count. I can barely remember how you looked the last time; your hat covered your face almost entirely).
I will probably regret it, but what the hell. I’ve done more stupid stuff than this. (If we become friends, I might tell you what I did on the yacht. Or should I wait till you turn twenty-one?)
It’s a deal.
Let’s meet.
Best,
Zach
P.S.: Nice try but no.
P.P.S.: Although I would have probably done it if I was abroad. You know how to intrigue a guy, I will tell you that.
Phoenix
Leaning on the bathroom sink, I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, inspecting it as if it’s under a microscope.
I look at my puffy red lips, slightly scratched from his scruffy neck, and several hickeys scattered on my collarbone and probably my navel too, if I lift my towel high enough to study it.
My hair is damp, the tips of it dripping into the sink with a tap, tap, tap sound that should annoy me, but I’m frozen in time. Standing in the middle of the bathroom, the image of last night plays in my mind like a colorful movie on a projector, and no matter how many times I blink or try to block it away, it still stays, reminding me of my betrayal.
His breath on my skin.
His hands gripping my hips as he pushed himself inside me.
The desire running through my veins despite the hate filling my heart for him. Each thrust that brought me to the brink of an orgasm that should never have happened with Zachary.
I gave my body, even if not myself, to him, and how pathetic and horrible is that?
The man who destroyed my life, yet I came apart in his arms and begged for more?
You are nothing but a bitch in heat.
My grip on the sink tightens, and I take a deep breath, ordering the self-loathing to go away and justify my actions with a normal human bodily reaction to the desire any handsome man could have inspired.
I used to love sex in my previous life, as I call it, never shying away from pleasure and giving in to my cravings, because shouldn’t we all do that?
Appreciate the beauty it provides, allowing us to fly high and enjoy the connection with another person, even if it’s for a brief amount of time.
My body was starved, and it lunged at the first food available, nothing but hormones controlling me in that moment.
At least that’s the only explanation I can give myself that makes it bearable to live with myself; otherwise, I’m going to drown in guilt.
Giving my red skin one last glance, I go scrub myself in the shower once again, frantic in my need to wash away traces of Zachary from me as much as I can, and then I step into the room, shivering.
Walking toward the closet, I open it up and turn on the light, only to mutter, “Oh,” when I find it full of women’s clothes from jeans and shirts, to dresses and jewelry.
My brows furrow at this. How did he have time to prepare it all if I just got out two days ago? But then I almost slap myself for such stupid thoughts.
When you possess the amount of wealth Zachary has had from the day he was born, his guest rooms probably always have a closetful of clothes in case anyone needs something. This kind of luxury won’t create a dent in his pockets.
Thankfully, most of them are in my size, and I’m not too proud to use this opportunity to wear something clean. The clothes I got from Sara could use some washing, and I’m not sure I want to walk in the hospital with my breasts on display from the tank top.
Besides, Zachary is right. I can’t be reckless and act out with a killer on the loose, contemplating ways to use me once again in his fucked-up plans.
The people who have nothing to lose are the most dangerous creatures on this earth. They don’t mind succumbing to madness in order to achieve what they crave, and it gives them their next fix.
Snatching a pair of jeans and a purple cashmere sweater along with black boots, I quickly put it all on, not minding my wet hair as I let it fall down my back to dry naturally.
Then I pick up both the phones. I still intend to give Zachary’s back to him, but right now it’s my only connection with the world. I dash into the hallway, my boots thumping on the marble as I stroll to the stairs and go down to the first floor, ready to bolt to the main door and get the hell out of here before I stumble on Zachary.
I’ll have to face him at some point; however, I prefer to prolong the inevitable rather than ruin my mood first thing in the morning. Besides, he agreed to my meeting with Rafe. So this must not endanger anyone.
Before I can execute my brilliant plan, I hear a loud throat clearing behind me, and I groan inwardly, stilling my movements as I’m busted.
“Ms. Phoenix, is it?”
I frown at the female voice and spin around to see a middle-aged woman wearing a black maid’s uniform along with a white apron around her waist, smiling at me, although it doesn’t reach her silver eyes as she scans me from head to toe, probably coming to her own conclusions for me slipping out like this.
Although, only God knows how Zach treats his one-night stands really; maybe he never brings them home, or they manage to leave before staff sees them?
This would explain the disdain flashing on her face before she covers it up with indifference. “Mr. King told me to inform you about breakfast once you woke up.”