Ever since I told Dorian I would try to wait for him almost two weeks ago, he's been helping me understand the ins and outs of the business. The bank account he kept for bills and expenses was still intact plus a few added zeros that Dorian insisted on. It was actually his idea that I delegate some of the responsibility.
"So what do you think, Carmen?" I ask with a raised brow and a smile. "Think you'd like to be my store manager?"
Carmen's eyes bug out of her head and her jaw drops. "Are you shitting me, Gabs?" she shrieks before clamping her hand over her mouth and muttering apologies.
I laugh heartily at her outburst. "Yes. I need some help around here and no one knows Cashmere or fashion like you. It pays well, and you will have the opportunity to put your stamp on this place and interact with some designers. How does that sound?"
"How does that sound?" she squeaks with wide eyes.
Before I can ask another question, Carmen wraps her tiny arms around me and is jumping up and down, squealing with glee. After she's accepted my offer and has calmed her jubilation, she gives me another warm hug before stepping back onto the sales floor with a giant grin. I smile to myself, genuinely happy that I could do something for her that will potentially advance her career. She deserves it; through all my bullshit over the last couple months, she has been a stellar employee and friend. I owe her this opportunity. Besides, after my ascension, there is a good chance I will have to fully leave the store in her qualified hands.
Right on cue, my cell phone dings to life and I am greeted with a text message from Dorian, causing my smile to broaden to mega-watt status.
From Dorian, 5:46 P.M.
-Dinner at my place tonight? Thought we could try something different.
My mind drifts to the painful memory of the last time I stepped foot in Dorian's suite. It was undeniably the worst day of my life, as I felt my heart being snatched from my chest and ripped into a thousand shreds when Dorian admitted that he would have to marry Aurora in order to protect me. Returning to the scene of the crime just seems unbearable. Yet, I know I have to eventually. If I am going to try to trust him again, if we are going to try to make this work somehow, I have to take baby steps.
I knew my decision to try to work things out with Dorian could somehow bite me in the ass. And I knew that after everything, it would make more sense for us to be apart. But when it came down to it, I just couldn't. Being with him, with all the supernatural politics and bullshit, is hard. Trying to see past his betrayal and deceit … hell, that's even harder. But living without him, not feeling his love and warmth blanket me every day? That is intolerable.
I accepted Solara's words that day in the coffee shop mirage. My sole destiny was not to be Dorian's lover. But something deep within me, something that penetrated straight to my bones halted my every advance to try to forget him. As if he was placed in my life for a purpose. Not to be my assassin. Not to persuade my choice of alignment. But something else that compelled me to stay anchored to him in an intangible way. Maybe Dorian isn't my destiny. Maybe I am his.
To Dorian, 5:58 P.M.
-Sure you can handle that? I wouldn't want to tease you ;)
I smile to myself, knowing exactly what his endgame is. Though I had agreed to try, I felt it was best if we kept sex out of the equation, which was a painful feat for us both. We had dived in so quickly with it before, sometimes I'd feel like that's all we had. Like intimacy was our love language.
So we slowed things down and started doing things like normal couples do. We'd watch movies cuddled up on the couch, order takeout, and even play cards or board games. And at night, when he climbed into bed with me and slid his body next to mine, Dorian never crossed the line into sexual territory. And even though he could split bricks with what he was packing under his boxer briefs, he still tried to appease me and fit that normal ‘boyfriend' mold. He tried to be human for me.
-For you, I can handle anything. Just having you here in my space and in my bed again is enough. I miss you so much. And I love you even more.
My smile multiplies into an ear-splitting beam at his words. He loves me. That's all I could really ask for, and every fiber of my being believes him completely. Suddenly the urge to be with him in every tangible way overwhelms me and I happily tap out a reply.
-I love you too. And I'll be there. I can't wait to be back where I belong.
I go back to finishing up the paperwork and bills sprawled out in front of me on my desk, eager to get out of here and rush to Dorian's waiting arms. I make a mental note to stop by my apartment to slip into something sexy, scrapping all thoughts of taking it slow. When death seems to be knocking at my door every five minute, why wait?
Just as I am packing up my things to go, my cell dings, indicating a text. I giddily pick it up, expecting another love-laced message from Dorian. However it's from a number I don't recognize, and contains no words, just a media attachment. I shrug and open it up, realizing it's some sort of video. What the hell? Who would send me this?
The first thing I notice is a bedroom I've never seen before. It's all deep purples and elegant décor, along with a massive canopy bed fit for a princess. The click-clack of high heels becomes louder as someone approaches the recording device. Shuffling ensues before a familiar face comes into focus. Aurora. She positions the camera then smiles menacingly into the lens, as if she is smiling right at me. Straight through me. My blood freezes in my veins.
Aurora turns away from the camera and makes her way to the entryway of the door. I hear her talking to someone, her high-pitched sing-song voice assaulting my eardrums. Then another set of footprints joins the clang of her expensive heels. And as he comes into focus in the frame, every inch of him looking downright edible in blue jeans and a dark V-neck sweater, the icy feeling in my veins begins to sizzle and burn in the most uncanny way, immobilizing me where I stand. Dorian. The love of my pathetic life, the object of every desire, my very own walking, talking fantasy is being led to the canopy bed by my arch-fucking-nemesis and his current fiancé.
What. The. Fuck?
Dorian settles onto the bed with a huff, clearly uncomfortable in the intimate space. Aurora nestles between his legs, placing her hands on his shoulders. He mumbles something but it is too low for me to make out. Aurora chuckles then begins to knead his shoulders. Dorian visibly tenses at the contact but then slumps into relaxation. Her hands shift from gentle kneads to a deep squeeze of his solid muscles and I am all too aware of the handfuls of fabric in her hands, pulling his sweater upwards. In what seems like hours yet happens faster than I can look away, Aurora pulls Dorian's top right over his head, revealing his tight, rippling torso.
My breath catches in my throat as my mind tries to absorb what I'm seeing. Aurora's hands fly to her own shirt where she works to undo each button, Dorian watching impassively, making no move to stop her actions. When she stands before him in her tight skirt, heels and lace black bra, she takes a step closer into him, aligning her breasts with his mouth. Then she grasps his chin to meet her line of vision, causing him to release a contented sigh.
I know what this is; I've been here before. Dorian is going to breathe Aurora. And though I've been a live spectator of the act before, the fact that I'm not there to stop it, not there to be a reminder of all the reasons why Dorian shouldn't go through with it, my heart clenches in my chest.
The shift in the air, the visible shimmer around them indicates the beginning of the ritual. Aurora's manicured hands clutch Dorian's bare shoulders as she submits to him. They both pant wildly, the faint sounds of ecstasy ringing through the receiver of my phone. I am only too aware of the hot tears trying to make their way over the threshold of my eye rims. I quickly blink them away and grit my teeth, knowing that any minute now Dorian will come to his senses and push Aurora away. He has to. He loves me. Right?
The next few seconds are beyond brutal as I watch Aurora push Dorian back onto the bed and straddle him, revealing her scanty thong. As she lowers her body on top of his, never breaking eye contact, the tears regenerate, and slide down my face. I swipe them away, refusing to show weakness, even in the isolation of my office.
With eagerness, Dorian buries his face in Aurora's cleavage and grips her bare backside, just as he did months before when I witnessed their exchange for myself. Then he is successfully ripping her bra off, the delicate fabric almost disintegrating in his enthusiastic hands. And as her pert mounds fall around his face, the puckered skin if her nipples grazing his perfect lips, the screen goes black. The torture ceases and the video ends. And I'm left alone in dejected silence, unable to fully accept what just went down. But I know what happened next. I know what I just saw. And even my affinity for denial can't blanket that truth.
Chapter Twenty Two
I'm not sure how I made it out of the Cashmere, or how I even made it to the bar a few blocks away. But as I slide onto a barstool, I remember that I came here for a purpose. I came to forget that text message. I came to forget Dorian. And Aurora. And the Dark, the Light. And everything else fucked up in my life, making it impossible to just breathe easily for one second of the fucking day.