OWNED_A Dark Mystery Romance Page 2

  My mom was happy to see us together despite his little quirks–– idiosyncrasies, as she liked to call them. She was so taken with him that she honestly hoped Viola would find someone just like him.

  You never know really.

  One moment, things are good, and the next thing you know, all turns into chaos.

  For what it was, I miss that life.

  I miss that innocence that made it all possible. The comfort that came with it, and the illusion that we were all a big, real family. I miss thinking that everybody was happy. That it would last forever.

  It all crumbled in a moment.

  But who cares? And does it even matter?

  We all moved on.

  My mom no longer talks about Allan. She’s busy reinventing herself and living her life, and I commend her for doing that. She no longer rushes me into doing anything. Career, marriage, and starting a family have become off topics. After things backfired for her–– and me, she refrains from giving me advice. She must’ve learned–– the same way I have, that all advice is useless in the end.

  Viola learned her lessons too, and she keeps doing what she knows best. Pushing through school, enjoying the company of her friends, and yes, men, without getting attached.

  She’s a proponent of loose relationships that have a short shelf-life.

  Anna, on the other hand, extolls the virtues of the relationship she has with Danny. She’s in love with her best friend, and there’s nothing better than that. I believe her.

  I wonder if Allan learned anything from it. If he’ll do things differently from now on. If he’ll be what he hasn’t been for me to the person who will fill my shoes.

  What about me? Am I happier?

  I don’t think so.

  Do I feel loved? Not always.

  Okay... Probably not.

  Is freedom better?

  Yes.

  Alone, I walk down the street, leaving the clamor of downtown behind me.

  A few cars slide by as I stroll toward my old home.

  A block away from my house, I notice that the lights in George’s home are turned on. I wonder what he would say to me now?

  A few more steps and I come to a smooth halt not far from the stairs leading to the entrance of my old house. Pale lights glow in the windows on the second floor. The room that used to be my office on the first level, is now sunk in darkness. The place that used to be my life is now a patch of nothing.

  For a few moments, I stand there in the street, my feet pinned to the sidewalk, a sound of children voices rippling through the air. I hear their parents’ voices as well.

  That could’ve been us.

  Allan. Me... Our children.

  Perhaps none of this would’ve happened had I had my first child. Or maybe it would’ve happened anyway, ten times worse.

  You can never tell how a story goes or ends. You can never tell when it shifts and drags you in a different realm.

  Nothing is what it seems.

  “He was so right...” I mutter, staring blankly at the door.

  My eyes dip to the top of the stairs, where I found the first bouquet of flowers.

  Twenty-five red roses. I remember that night as if it was yesterday. The way the flowers felt against my touch––soft like velvet. Their smell sweet and fresh, mixed with the scent of his cologne.

  It was my twenty-fifth birthday. Who knew that it would turn out to be a crossroad in my timeline?

  I smile as I travel back in time and revisit that place. I remember how fascinated I was, and how scared at the same time. How baffled that unexplained things could happen to me.

  Garnering the attention of a mysterious man caught me by surprise. It was hard to believe that the man who felt like an illusion at first was so much more than the product of my imagination.

  My smile withers away.

  He turned out to be so real and vibrant. Persistent. Driven. Obsessed with me in many ways.

  He was everything that Allan wasn’t.

  The memory freezes a snapshot of that old life in front of my eyes, bringing back the beginning of the fall with the fiery colors, the crisp air, and the bright blue sky. With the people in the park walking their kids and dogs.

  The first sight of him flashes in front of my eyes as well. Clad in a suit and a dark wool coat, standing across the street.

  Handsome. So handsome...

  My pulse starts racing as I recollect his face. His eyes not always the door to the chamber of truth.

  It all shatters as the image of his wife flashes in front of my eyes. A thought that makes me sick to my stomach takes a jab at me.

  Why has he avoided me lately?

  The voices of the people travel through the house, nearing the door.

  Startled, I jolt back to reality.

  Pulling back from my paralysis, I spin around and briskly walk away just as the door opens and kids start running down the stairs.

  The lights are out on my floor when I walk out of the elevator.

  “Fucking great,” I mumble under my breath as I take a few steps forward and stop in front of my door.

  I fumble through the contents of my purse, searching for my key. It takes a few moments before I find it and unlock the door.

  I barely crack it open, when a man swoops me in his arms and pushes me inside. His hand goes over my mouth, his hot lips tickling my earlobe.

  “Be quiet,” he whispers in my ear. “All right?”

  I nod, my pulse racing.

  Smoothly, he tears away from me and starts checking my apartment.

  I follow him around.

  He knows exactly what he’s doing, in many ways looking more proficient than the man I’ve hired to do the same job.

  A few moments tick by before he turns around and glances at me. He seems content with the result.

  “Hi,” he says quietly.

  Smiling, he gives me a swift once-over.

  My eyes go down on him as well.

  He looks as if he just came from the office. A light blue, dress shirt stretches across his chest––the neckline undone, the sleeves cuffed up. The slim fitting shirt vanishes inside a pair of sleek black pants, a narrow leather belt snaking around his trim waist.

  My eyes dip to the watch wrapped around his wrist.

  “How long have you been waiting?”

  “Long enough.”

  I toss the purse on a side table.

  “I’ve had the apartment checked,” I say.

  “And yet, I’m seeing everything you’re doing.”

  “Are you?”

  He smiles smugly.

  “It’s not funny, Sebastien.”

  He shrugs.

  “That’s all I have right now,” he says sincerely.

  Something in his voice makes me cry inside.

  “Why are you checking my apartment? Is someone else interesting in my life?”

  He smiles, a dash of sadness glazing his eyes.

  “Our life,” he says.

  I like the wording, and I almost want to give him a warm grin in response when I remember.

  “Where have you been this past week?”

  My voice is cold as the ice cubes in the fridge.

  He tips his chin down slightly, his eyes staying on me, a smile lifting the corners of his lips.

  “Did you miss me?”

  “I’m serious,” I say, my hands clutching my hips. “Would it kill you to give a warning or something. I hate spending my evenings watching your windows and trying to guess if you’re home or not. If I’ll see you or not.”

  His grin widens.

  My hand flicks up.

  “Stop it,” I bark, not in the mood for his games.

  It takes him a second to smoothly close the space between us. His arms snake around me, giving me no other choice but to slide my palms up onto his chest.

  My body gets draped in his warmth.

  He presses his lips against my hair and murmurs.

  “Did you miss me?”

 
; His voice course through me as his heart vibrates against my chest.

  I tip my gaze up.

  “Did you?” I ask.

  His eyes brighten with a smile, his hand cupping my cheek.

  He doesn’t say a word. Only smiles and tips his chin a couple of times in response.

  “Why did you vanish without a word?”

  His grin slowly fades away, his thumb gently tracing my jawline.

  “I had to,” he quietly says.

  “Why?”

  “To remove any trace of suspicion.”

  His response comes promptly, a reminder that our life together is very much an illusion.

  A world of hope crumbles inside me.

  I pull back a little, still in his embrace, his touch still warm against my skin.

  “How long have you been waiting for me?”

  “An hour or so.”

  “How come you didn’t have a key?” I toss at him, half-jokingly.

  His eyes flicker with a silent response.

  “Why do you have a key, Sebastien?” I ask, breaking away from his embrace.

  I suddenly feel torn, wrestling with mixed feelings.

  Silent, he observes me.

  “How come you have a key to my apartment?” I ask again, not so much hoping to hear an explanation but to vent my frustration.

  His eyes lock with mine again, a secret smile claiming gaze.

  I take another step back, washed with revelation.

  “No, no. You’re not the… Are you?”

  He tips his chin down, smiling.

  My hand flies to my mouth.

  “I can’t believe this...” I mutter, my eyes roaming over his face. “Do you really own this place?” I ask incredulously, having a hard time to grasp the news.

  He flicks his eyes to the side, the ghost of a smile sliding onto his lips.

  “I don't understand...”

  My voice trails off as my mind examines the pieces of the puzzle that just fell into place. Bits and pieces of the past play into my head, fueling my memory.

  The apartment.

  How did I find this apartment?

  Anna asked me the very same thing.

  Oh... It was that leaflet.

  The leaflet that I found in the coffeehouse many months before. The same leaflet that magically appeared on my table one winter morning when I stopped for a smoothie in the nearby coffee shop after I finished jogging in the park.

  But that was months before.

  Before everything.

  My lips part in surprise as things begin to make sense. I’m sure that Sylvia, my real estate agent, had no clue. She seemed genuine in her interactions with me. The price was promptly slashed because the owner was motivated and wanted to rent the place quickly. The building located right across the street from his home.

  Right.

  “The brochure... It wasn’t an accident, was it?” I murmur, bewildered.

  He watches me in silence, his eyebrows arching slowly as he gauges my reaction.

  I shake my head, baffled.

  “How can you possibly plan all these things so far in advance? How did you know that I’d be looking for a place a few months down the road?”

  I look at him bewildered, the explanation lying right in front of my eyes.

  He had a well-thought plan, and nothing was happenstance. Once he set his eyes on me, he came up with that plan, and stuck with it, quietly watching me from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to make his move.

  The man is brilliant.

  Brilliantly devious.

  A shiver falls through me. Now that I see it clearly, I begin to wonder.

  Is there a way out of this? If things ever go wrong...?

  My thoughts must’ve spilled all over my face.

  The blood draws from his face.

  “It wasn’t that hard,” he says, his eyes connected to mine.

  Every shred of emotion on my face gets swiftly analyzed.

  I swivel away from him, walk to the refrigerator, and grab a bottle of water.

  “You could’ve talked to me,” I say irritated.

  “I didn’t want to take a chance.”

  I spin around.

  “A chance?? Talking to me was taking a chance? What about nudging me in whichever direction you wanted me to go? Wasn’t that a risk?”

  He tilts his chin down and studies me through his lashes.

  “I told you I didn’t have a chance.”

  I set the bottle on the table, a sigh of frustration leaving my lips.

  “I talked to Jacqueline today,” I say abruptly, hoping for a reaction.

  His expression remains unreadable.

  “What did she want?” he asks, no detectable emotion in his voice.

  “She tried to convince me that you are a dangerous man.”

  A faint smile slides onto his lips.

  “And?” he asks, taking a step in my direction.

  “I think she might be onto something,” I say, holding his gaze.

  He stops inches away from me, his fingers threading through my hair.

  My lungs fill with his scent. Fresh, and masculine. I lean back against the kitchen counter. He leans forward. His skin is warm. So is his breath.

  “Do you think I’m dangerous?”

  I softly nod.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t think you know when to stop.”

  “Do you want to test me? See if I can stop?”

  He runs his fingers along my jawline, and I tilt my head to absorb his touch.

  “I’m not talking about this,” I murmur, my voice softening.

  “I’m not talking about this either,” he says, seriously, no longer smiling.

  I wrap my hand around his wrist, yearning for his touch.

  “I don’t want to fear you, Sebastien.”

  He lowers his lips to mine and murmurs.

  “There’s no way around that. You have to take a chance with me.”

  A soft kiss follows his words.

  He tries to pull away, but I don’t let him.

  Grinning, he opens his arms and buries me in his embrace. Our lips connect again, warm and soft and for the millionth time, famished.

  “I missed you, Tess,” he says.

  His voice is soft and sensual, seasoned with a faint rasp. My heart screams at me, wanting me to believe him.

  And I do.

  Nothing in him tells me otherwise.

  I feel him longing for my touch as our lips melt into another kiss. His hands go down my dress, trailing my thighs before he runs my skirt up.

  My fingers slip inside his shirt.

  He’s already tugging at my panties as I smoothly work his shirt open and unbuckle his belt.

  His chest is naked. My bra goes down.

  His arms snake around me, smoothly lifting me and setting me on the kitchen counter. My legs spread open as he wedges himself between them. He pulls me closer. I lock my thighs around him.

  My hands slide inside his pants while he starts kneading my breasts, his kiss stealing my breath.

  I brush his hard length a few times before I start a twisting motion with my fist, relishing his throbbing.

  With one fluid motion, he slides the rest of my dress off my shoulders and nudges me down. Our lips tear apart as my back hits the counter, my legs going up, over his shoulders.

  Without breaking our stare, he brings me close to him and slowly slides into me, his right hand going down my thigh, then trailing up my stomach.

  His eyes flicker with unbridled pleasure as he drinks me in. Both hands trace down to my hips next. His eyes glint with a smile as I grab the edge of the counter as if I know what’s coming.

  He thrust a few times slowly before he pushes harder.

  And harder.

  Plunging into me.

  I take him in. All of him. My eyes drinking him in.

  His shirt open and untucked. His pants barely clinging to his butt, his fly open, hi
s chest naked. Broad shoulders, hard pecs, and washboard abs.

  All filling my sight. Smooth skin rolling over his muscles down to the root of his erection.

  He works me harshly, without slowing down, pulling me into him as much as he hammers me with his hard flesh.

  I push up and arch my body, giving him a different angle. Grabbing my waist, he pulls me toward him with force.

  He rails me hard. Relentlessly. Tense, I absorb every ounce of force he gives me.

  My legs begin to tremble, my hands clawing at him.

  Standing, he keeps pumping into me, not tearing his eyes away from mine.

  “Sebastien...”

  My voice sounds hollow.

  He pulls out, just when I begin to edge, and strokes his wet, hard cock.

  A devilish smile curls his lips.

  “See... I know when to stop,” he says.

  “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” I growl, pushing upright.

  He laughs as he nudges me back and runs his thumb over my swollen clit.

  “Are you fucking with me now?” I bark.

  He keeps pumping his erection.

  I’m wet and clenching, my eyes glued to his hard shaft.

  He lowers himself and then I feel his mouth, his tongue licking and swirling, slipping into me, his soft wet touch soothing my sore flesh, the new sensation smooth and different than the pounding.

  The effect is instant. On cue, my body starts shaking. Legs, hips, thighs. My nipples ache, hard, and perked up.

  I roll my lip beneath my teeth and grab his hair with both hands.

  “Oh, fuck...”

  My voice breaks into a moan.

  He pulls up again and enters me with all force. Eyes closed, I let him ram into me, slipping with him in a completely different world. I have no fear, no doubts. There is no darkness.

  I see no way he can’t be mine.

  His arm drapes around me pulling me into his chest as he holds my bottom with the other hand, entering me repeatedly. My arms wind around his neck, my lips crushed against his shoulder.

  I cry out his name every time the pleasure spikes through me.

  3

  SEBASTIEN

  “There.”

  The word plops in the middle of the dining room as the envelope hits the table.

  “Would you like more coffee, Sir?” asks the butler, unfazed.