Body (Trinity Trilogy Book 1) Page 24

  I slide in next to her and she grabs my face, searches my eyes and presses her forehead to mine. “Gigi, boys that make girls cry suck!” I nod against her forehead. She kisses my cheeks and wipes my tears. “You’ve been mad at men before, had shitty men hurt you before and you have never cried like this,” she continues.

  “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Kat asks as if she just asked something as simple as “How was your day?”

  I look into each of their eyes. Brown, blue, and grey, the colors that help breathe life into my world. I can lie to myself over and over, saying the feelings aren’t there, that they don’t matter. I am incapable of lying to them.

  In a horrible moment of honesty and bubbling anger I answer on a screech, “I do, damn it!” I groan and grip my pint glass so hard I wish it would break. “I don’t want to but I do!” I press two fingers from each hand into my temples but the pain doesn’t go away. It’s still there. He’s still there, his sad face broken and apologetic as I screamed at him on the street…still there taunting me.

  “Why don’t you want to, honey?” Bree asks. “You haven’t been in love in a long time. Is it because that big meanie makes you cry? I’ll kick the good looking bastard’s ass from here to next week if you’d like!” she adds with fervor. She’d do it too. She will open up a can of whoop ass on him and he will be powerless to stop the tiny firecracker.

  “That’s exactly why she doesn’t want to be in amor with him, Bree,” Ria responds for me. “The last man she loved hurt her…muy mal, really bad,” Her Spanish accent comes out when she’s emotional. She knows exactly how I feel. I know it’s how she feels with Tom.

  “It gets worse guys. He gave the CEO of the Foundation an ultimatum. Fix the situation with me or he walks as Chairman…along with his forty million dollar annual donation. That money pays half of our operating costs.” I take a huge gulp of my Poorman and let the frothy drink soothe frayed nerves.

  “Whoa. He did that?” Kat says mouth agape, eyes wide.

  “It gets worse. The HR Director was fired, and I was promoted to Associate Director of Contributions.” I sneer and take a slug of my drink.

  “Am I missing something, Gigi? That sounds pretty fucking fantastic. Congratulations!” says Bree.

  “I didn’t get the promotion because I deserved it; I got it because of Chase’s influence. He even said something to the effect, ‘no woman of mine is going to be given ultimatums and be told to choose between me and her job’, blah, blah, blah,” I say using my best impression of a male voice.

  “Wow, he’s in love with you.” I twist my head toward Kat and shake off what she just said.

  “Excuse me, Kat. Where the hell did you get, “he’s in love with you?” I take a breath and groan. “I basically got a promotion because I’m fucking the boss like a common whore!”

  “Jesús Cristo, Cara Bonita! That’s such bullshit. You deserved that promotion. You’ve been bringing them tons of dinero over the past two years!” Maria exclaims.

  “But the timing is no coincidence. The boss did it to get into Chase’s good graces.” I slump, my shoulders sagging low. I feel weighted to my seat. The heaviness of what happened with Chase, of how we fought, is crippling.

  “So what if he did. You still deserve it. You get the chance to prove it to everyone, including yourself, and Chase!” Bree argues.

  I go several more rounds of woe is Gillian and come to the conclusion that I’m going to have to talk to Chase. My cellphone pings, and I pull it out of my purse. It’s Chase. I’m a little surprised it took him this long to contact me.

  To: Gillian Callahan

  From: Chase Davis

  I’m sorry. I still don’t know what happened. Please come to the Penthouse so we can discuss this. I’m lost without you.

  That’s the closest thing to an “I love You” I’m going to get right now. I don’t even know if I want him to profess his undying love for me yet. It’s only been a few weeks. The butterflies in my stomach and ache in my heart can only be mended by an egotistical, wealthy, over protective, controlling, breathtakingly good looking, bastard. And he’s all mine.

  I kiss and hug each friend as if it’s the last time I will see them. I don’t know where I would be if I didn’t have them to walk me away from life’s ledges.

  We share a round of “besos,” and I go hail a taxi. The driver asks me where to.

  There’s only one place I need to be right now. “Davis Industries, please.”

  Chapter 15

  The taxi cab pulls up to the building, and I run to the bank of elevators. Jack is sitting on a bench next to them. He stands when I push the button.

  “He’s expecting you,” he says with contempt.

  “He made you sit out here and wait, didn’t he?” I already know the answer based on the permanent scowl he’s sporting.

  “You don’t have access to the Penthouse. We’re going to rectify that situation now.” He’s clearly irritated. He pulls a small black box from his pocket. It has a LED screen with an outline of a thumb print on it. “Place your right thumb on the panel here,” he points. I do as he asks and the screen scans my thumb. He pulls it back, slides out a tiny keyboard, and enters Gillian Callahan next to the imprint. “As requested by Mr. Davis, you now have unfettered access to the Penthouse.”

  “So I can come and go as I please?”

  “Yes, you may. Please consider the fact that he is entrusting you with access to his private quarters. If you bring anyone with you, I must be privy to the information in advance so I can run appropriate background checks.” His tone is flat and unwelcoming.

  “Seriously?” He nods. “Did you run a background check on me?”

  “Of course.”

  “May I see it?”

  He shakes his head. “That information was obtained by Mr. Davis. If you want to see yours or anyone involved with you, you’ll have to ask him directly.”

  “Excuse me? What do you mean by anyone involved with me?” He can see that I’m less than impressed and getting agitated. I’ve got a hand on my hip and the sucker is cocked, ready for battle.

  “Mr. Davis has background checks done on anyone he comes into regular contact with. We’ve done them on a Ms. De La Torre, Ms. Bennett, Ms. Simmons, Mr. Redding, Mr. Parks and a few others.” I close my eyes and breathe deep trying to understand without reacting why he would invade my privacy and the privacy of my friends. “There are plenty of people who would be thrilled if Mr. Davis was seriously damaged, hurt, maimed or dead. As his security advisor, I insist on background checks for all parties he comes into contact with.”

  The words “maimed or dead” ring loudly in my ears lessening the initial shock. He does have a point. Being filthy rich comes with disadvantages. “Is that all, Jack?” I blow my bangs out of my eyes. I’m eager to see Chase. I need to clear the air with him.

  “No,” he says as his eyes turn hard. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention at that frosty gaze. “That stunt you pulled today on the street was childish and immature.” His tone is scathing.

  “Frankly, Jack, that’s none of your business.” I say it with confidence despite knowing, he’s right. It was a bit juvenile.

  “Everything involving Mr. Davis is my business. I’ve been there for him since he was seven years old. I have no intention of allowing anyone to hurt him again.” He sounds like an over-protective father.

  “You’re not his Father. You’re his bodyguard. He pays you to be there.” I can see that my statement hits home.

  “No I’m not. His Father was the devil.” He leaves it at that. “I hope you’re the real deal, Ms. Callahan, because it’s been a very long time since he’s allowed a woman anywhere near his home, let alone his heart. Don’t make him regret it.”

  “I don’t intend to. Now if you will excuse me.” I enter the elevator and the doors shut with him staring me down. I put my right thumb into the LED box and the red light scans my thumb. Once scanned the light turns green and
the elevator rises to the Penthouse. Modern technology…incredible.

  I can’t for the life of me figure Jack out. One minute he’s tough as nails and just as pointy. The next he’s fatherly and protective. As I mull the conversation with Chase’s linebacker my stomach drops. I really don’t know what to expect from Chase now. I left him in the dust after he did what he thought was right. After I promised him in the safety of his arms just last night that I wouldn’t run again. I wish he didn’t use his influence to devalue the hard work that I’ve put into my career and the time I’ve spent at the Safe Haven Foundation. I owe them so much. I’ve worked damn hard to prove myself. But I also don’t want this to ruin what we have together.

  The elevator doors open, and I exit. I’m still wearing the same clothing I had on for the meeting today. I skim my hands down my skirt. Rumpled clothing and puffy eyes are what’s available this evening. If there’s a stitch of makeup left, it has to be smudged. I probably look like I’ve tied one on. I’m surprised to find his door unlocked. I enter the dark entry and look around. Music is playing in the distance and I walk toward it.

  In the main living room, a fire is roaring and I see Chase sitting with his back to me on the plush sectional. He’s sipping a glass of wine, listening to the music on surround sound. Christina Perri’s haunting voice sings “The Lonely” and tears well up. The song brings painful memories to mind. I played that exact song so many times after Justin beat me, trying to figure out why I couldn’t escape. Why love was so brutal when really, it wasn’t love at all. It kills me knowing that Chase is feeling that way because of me.

  The chorus disturbs me and I stop to listen.

  Dancing slowly in an empty room

  Can the lonely take the place of you

  I sing myself a quiet lullaby

  Let you go and let the lonely in

  To take my heart again

  No more. I can’t take it. Sadness overwhelms me. I enter the room making my way to the couch. He looks up over his glass of wine. His face is tortured and seeing it destroys me. His eyes are hooded but a tiny spark lights those glassy blues as they land on me.

  “You’re not alone,” I whisper. He picks up the remote and turns the music off with the push of a button. He sets down his wineglass.

  “Aren’t I?” His face is stoic and pale, void of emotion.

  I shake my head. Walking over to him, I stop between his outstretched legs. He grips my hips fiercely and brings his head to rest against my stomach. He nuzzles me in silence. The need to purge this ache welling deep inside is unbearable.

  “I’m in love with you.” It comes out a whisper but he hears it. His grip intensifies. I’m scared shitless and I can’t back away or hide from my feelings any longer. If he doesn’t feel the same then I’ll move on. I won’t like it. It will hurt like hell, but at least I’ll know I said it and meant it.

  His grip tightens until it almost hurts and he looks up at me, his eyes searching my face, his gaze open, and broken at the same time. I can barely breathe with the honest fear and heartbreak staring back at me. It’s almost too much to bear. He assesses me, trying to discern the truth of my statement. “Say it again.” His voice sounds rough, as if his esophagus was rubbed with sandpaper. Thick and gritty.

  “I’m in love with you, Chase.” The words spill out as if in prayer. His eyes close and his fingers push my shirt up. His eager mouth plants soft kisses all over the bare flesh before trailing kiss after kiss up my torso over my shirt until he’s standing in front of me, eyes piercing my soul.

  “Again,” he whispers against my lips.

  “I love you, Ch…” Before I can say his name, his lips are on mine, devouring me. His hands cup my cheeks holding me to him. His kiss is long and deep. I’m not sure who’s leading who and it doesn’t matter. He turns my head delving in, sliding his tongue in, tasting, drinking, sipping from my mouth as if it’s the last time. It’s not. Never will be again. I’m lost to him and will take whatever he can give me.

  He pulls away then smashes our chests together in a harsh embrace, one that you give someone you never plan to let go. I close my eyes and relish the beauty of being his. Warm and safe. “I was so afraid you were done with me,” he says against my ear. I shake my head and kiss the side of his neck reaffirming the connection to this man, my man. “Where do we go from here, Baby?”

  “That depends on whether or not you feel the same about me?” My confidence wanes. I need to know I mean as much to him as he does to me. It’s the only way we can move forward.

  “Are you kidding?” He searches my eyes. His mouth twists in surprise. “You don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?” My chest constricts and I’m uncertain what he’ll say next.

  “I knew you were the one when the hospital called me in Chicago. Everything went utterly black when they told me you’d been attacked. I was crazy with worry. I had only known you a short time, but that phone call wrecked me.” His face contorts as he tells me his experience. I understand the feeling. “God, Gillian, I’d do anything for you. Saying I love you doesn’t seem like enough to quantify what I feel for you.” The smile across my face is so big it hurts my cheeks.

  “Say it anyway,” I urge.

  He caresses my cheeks and kisses me softly. He pulls back and his glorious blue stare owns mine. “Gillian Callahan, I love you. So much it scares the hell out of me.”

  I nod and tears fill my eyes. He kisses each cheek. “Please, please stop running from this. This is new for me. I know I won’t always make the best decisions when it comes to you. You bring out the control freak in me. I want you safe, I want to protect you and provide for you. I want to give you everything your heart desires.”

  I put two fingers over his lips. “I only want you.”

  His eyes close as he kisses my fingers.

  He leads me to his bedroom, his hand clasping mine. “We will discuss this further but right now, all I can focus on is my need to feel you and bury myself so deep inside the woman I love, you won’t know where you begin and I end.”

  It’s not poetry, but it’s real. It’s Chase. I couldn’t agree with him more.

  ***

  It’s late and Chase is caressing my bare arm while spooning me from behind. “Who’s Justin Durham?”

  My entire body tenses. Alarm bells ring loudly in the quiet room. “How do you know about Justin?” The mention of his name sends a pick axe to my gut.

  “You have a restraining order against him. It came up when Jack did your background check. There were several different police reports against him with charges ultimately dropped. They all related to domestic violence.”

  Oh God in Heaven. He knows.

  He traces a scar on my hip. It’s four inches long. The puckered skin is a physical reminder of something I’d prefer to forget.

  “Justin was one of my ex-boyfriends.”

  “Why do you have a restraining order against him?” His fingers continue to soothe, a direct contrast to the swirling shame and fear spiraling through my mind.

  “You really don’t want to hear about this, especially now. It’s not a conversation to have after a night of incredible love-making--with emphasis on the love part.” I grin. He hugs me then places sweet kisses on my bare shoulder. It’s become one of his favorite places to kiss me.

  “Tell me,” he urges.

  I know he won’t let it go and the more I hide it and try to make it go away, the more those skeletons get brought to the surface. It’s time I bring them out in the light myself without the halo of doom. I’m stronger now. It’s been years. Even if it still affects me, I can’t let it take residence in my thoughts and dredge up old wounds. I think for a few moments as Chase snuggles into my side.

  “Nothing you can tell me is going to make me love you less, Gillian.”

  I carry a great deal of baggage when it comes to Justin. He may regret that comment. I’m at war with the fact that to have an honest relationship I’m going to have to share this part of
me. It’s an unfortunate part of my past but it defines who I am today, how I deal with relationships, how I respond to him, even now, years later. Chase deserves to be privy to the things that trigger pain.

  “Who is he?” he asks again.

  “He was a mistake.” I grip his hand and rub my head into his chest. I need the connection if I’m going to make it through this. “I met him when I was eighteen. He was five years older. I felt so mature shacking up with a man a few years my senior.” Chase laughs. That’s exactly what I’ve done again. I’m twenty four and he’s almost thirty. “Guess it’s a pattern with me.” I grin.

  “Continue,” he kisses my shoulder.

  “In the beginning Justin was everything I thought I wanted in a man. Handsome. Smart. Strong. We moved in together within a few months of dating when I started college. My grades in high-school were stellar, and I was lucky to secure a full scholarship to Sacramento State. So I went to school and he paid the bills.”

  “As he should have.”

  I roll my eyes, knowing there is no chance in hell I’m ever going to pay a tab or buy myself anything in this man’s presence. He’s old fashioned in that way. I ruffle his hair and peck his lips.

  “Don’t stop on my account. I want to know everything there is to know about you.”

  I sit up and pull the sheet over my naked chest. “Chase, you see me as this strong, independent woman because that’s what I’ve wanted you to see.” The tears well again. He’ll think I’m weak. I don’t want to be that woman again and I don’t want him knowing her. Regardless, it’s important I get it over with. He needs to know the truth. “Justin spent years beating me to a bloody pulp. Worse…I allowed it!”

  His eyes go wide, his nostrils flare and that sexy jaw clenches. “He put his hands on you?” He sounds calm but intense, holding back whatever reply he wants to make. I am immensely thankful.