Crash Into Me (8 page)

For
the first time, Rogers seemed like someone I might be able to relate to, but I
doubted he found living in the country as boring as I already did. To my
surprise, he answered, "You may avail yourself of the car if you choose,
miss. I can have Jenson bring it around, if you'd like."

"Thank
you, Rogers, but I have nowhere to go. I had hoped to see Tristan, I mean Mr.
Stone."

The
butler's expression changed back to its usual stoic look and he merely nodded
before he walked back into the house, leaving me wondering where Tristan had
gone.

I
sat outside watching the fireflies and looking up at the stars for hours.
Living in the city included many great perks, but stargazing wasn't one of
them, so I found a spot on the grass and watched the night sky as it moved
above my head. The night was so dark, with no moon at all, and the stars had
the stage all to themselves. They winked at me as I made a wish, hoping it
would come true before I grew tired and had to go inside to my lonely bed.

By
midnight, my wish hadn't come true, so I laid back in the cool, damp grass,
closed my eyes, and painted a picture of my perfect night sky in my mind. I'd
always found solace in that ever since I was a child. Whatever was bothering me,
I'd close my eyes and imagine a scene I could paint. Then I'd rearrange things
exactly the way they'd look if I were painting the picture.

Finally,
I gave up waiting for Tristan and walked to my room, tired and disappointed. As
much as I tried to push the thought out of my mind, I was sure he was out with
another woman at some event much like the one I'd first seen him at less than a
week before. Jordan's comment about him sleeping with a different woman every
night chased all other thoughts out of my mind until I was convinced he'd never
cared anything for me and all of this was some game he played because he could.

I
was still tossing and turning when there was a knock on my door at three a.m.,
and I braced myself for Rogers' face on the other side of the door giving me
the message that Tristan wasn't coming back. Anger at what I'd done to make
that happen churned in my stomach, but there was nothing I could do now. I
didn't even know where he was.

I
opened the door and hoped I could at least keep my emotions together. Something
told me Rogers wasn't good with tears and seeing me break down and cry would
probably make the top of his head explode. But instead of the butler, there was
Tristan standing in front of me dressed in a tux and looking even better than
he did in a suit, if that was possible.

"Tristan!"
I said with no attempt to hide my happiness at seeing him.

He
was stunning in the black tux, white formal shirt, and black bow tie. The last
time I'd seen a male close up in a tux was at my prom, but poor Bobby Jackson
had been out of his league in that. Tristan wore it like other men wore jeans
and t-shirts.

"Nina,
I have something I want you to do. Come with me," he said as he held out
his hand.

I
looked down at my shorts and t-shirt I liked to sleep in and felt distinctly
underdressed. "Should I change?"

"No.
You look beautiful as you are."

Taking
my hand, he led me to a sitting room similar to the one we'd sat in before, but
this one had an enormous painting of an impressionist country scene on one of
the inside walls. I began complimenting him on it and explaining the background
of the style, but he continued walking to a door next to the painting, paying
no attention to my impromptu art lecture. Opening it, he placed his hand on my
lower back and escorted me into a narrow room with no lights.

"Tristan,
what is this?" I asked as I turned to take hold of his of his hand and
looked around in the darkness.

"Wait."

He
spun me around to face the other wall, and I watched as lights began to illuminate
the room. Unlike all the other rooms in the house, this one had very few
furnishings and little decoration. It was painted white and had a single couch
and table. Otherwise, the room was bare.

I
reached my hand out to touch the wall and felt cool, smooth glass against my
skin. "Are these windows?"

"Yes.
I have something I want you to see," he said in a low voice in my ear.

My
excitement grew with each second that passed until I saw two people enter the
room, one woman and one man. Both were attractive and young, and they acted as
if they were a couple.

Confused,
I turned toward Tristan. "What's going on?"

"I
want you to paint them."

Looking
around, I saw an easel, canvas, and paint pots at the far end of the narrow
room. "I don't paint portraits. I simply paint what I feel."

He
caught my face in his hands. "Exactly. I want you to paint what watching
them do makes you feel, Nina."

"What
do you mean? Can they see us, Tristan?"

For
the first time, a tiny grin formed on his lips. Shaking his head, he answered,
"No, but it wouldn't matter. All I care about is what you paint."

Just
in case somewhere in the back of my mind I doubted what was going to happen
next, the man and woman showed me I was right in my suspicions. As I watched,
they began to undress, the man slowly easing the woman's dress off her body to
show her wearing nothing underneath.

"Tristan,
who are these people? Why are they here?"

"They're
here because they like to have people watch. We're here to watch them, and
you're here to paint what it makes you feel to watch them fuck."

I
wasn't sure if I was embarrassed or excited by his words. It didn't matter,
though, because in seconds they were both naked and the show he'd brought home
for me had begun.

I
stood transfixed at the sight in front of me. The woman knelt down in front of
the man and took his cock in her hands, running her tongue the full length of
it. The expression on her face was one of pure joy, as if licking his cock gave
her a kind of happiness that was only found in the way she made him feel.

Tristan
stood next to me and whispered, "Watch her. She loves sucking cock."

His
comment instantly made me wonder if he'd been with her. "How do you
know?"

As
he watched the woman take the man's cock deeper into her mouth, he said,
"They love having people watch them. I've seen it at parties."

I
liked to think I'd seen a lot, but never had I seen people perform sex at
parties. That usually happened behind closed doors at the parties I attended. Jordan was right. Wealthy people were different.

His
hand touched mine and I was torn from my thoughts on wealthy people and their
wild parties. "You thought I'd been with her, didn't you?"

I
looked at the woman sucking her boyfriend's cock and then looked at Tristan.
"Yes. Since I know nothing about you before I met you, I did."

He
lifted my hand to his mouth and softly kissed my palm. Looking up at me, he
smiled. "She's not my type."

"Why?
Because she's blonde?"

"No,
because she likes to fuck in front of people so she can get off. I tend to like
my women a little less attention whore."

I
couldn't tell if his tone was sharp because I'd asked if he'd been with her or
because he had no respect for her. Either way, I felt better knowing at least
he hadn't slept with her.

Tristan
pulled a chair out from the corner of the room and sat down, motioning for me
to join him. "Come sit on my lap, Nina. I want you to tell me how this
makes you feel."

I
sat down on his lap and noticed that he wasn't aroused. He pulled my face
toward his and kissed me hard, sending a rush of excitement through my body.

"Don't
you like watching them?" I asked as I ran my palm over the front of his
pants.

His
tongue slid over his lip, and he grinned. "It does nothing for me."

"Me
neither," I lied. In truth, he did it for me. I couldn't have cared less
if the people doing their sex act disappeared and never came back.

Sliding
his hand slowly up my leg, he gently stroked the tender skin of my inner thigh.
"Nina, watch them. I want you to show me in your painting what it makes
you feel."

I
leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Watching them fuck doesn't make me
feel anything, Tristan. You make me feel."

He
closed his eyes and exhaled again. "Then paint what I make you feel,
Nina."

I
stood and walked to the easel to begin painting how he made me feel. I dipped
my paintbrush first into red and then blue, pushing it swiftly across the
canvas as I let my emotions come out for him to see. The frustration of always
wanting more. The need he created in me to make him as happy as he made me. The
fear that our differences were too great and would someday tear us apart. They
all came out in the reds and blues that filled the picture.

His
stare felt hot on my back, and I turned to see him watching me, intently
interested in my work. Could he see how much he affected me and how much I
wanted him? Was my painting telling him everything I so wished I could?

I
looked up over my easel to see the couple had moved to full out fucking, but
Tristan remained focused on me. He gave me a smile that nearly melted my insides.
"Feeling the muse?"

"Yes,"
I answered shyly, timid he might disapprove of my work.

"Can
I see?"

"Not
yet."

My
paintbrush continued its dance through the colors as I blurred the lines and
edges to soften the ribbons of feeling he created in me. Finally, I dipped my
brush into warm brown paint and began to form the abstract images of his eyes,
always on me, watching me. Showing me the tenderness I believed existed deep
within him.

Out
of the corner of my eye, I saw him stand from his chair and walk toward me.
Unsure of how he'd judge my feelings, I raised my arms to hide my work, but he
moved around me and slid his arms around my waist.

In
my ear, he said low and hoarse, "Tell me what you feel, Nina."

I
wanted so much to tell him how he made me feel, but all I could do was let my
painting speak for me. Turning my attention to the couple to avoid Tristan's
critical eye, I held my breath as he studied the colors and hues of my
emotions.

He
pulled me to him and softly placed kisses over my neck. "The colors are
beautiful, Nina. Tell me what I should see."

"The
reds and blues represent my frustration and fear. I try to understand why you
keep me at arm's length, but I can't. Then I fear we're too different and at
the end of our time together or even before you'll cast me aside with a
one-syllable word and whatever we are will be over."

He
kissed my cheek and leaned his head against mine. "Why are the colors
blurred?"

Shyly,
I answered, "Because I can't express myself clearly when you're
around."

Tristan
turned me in his arms to face him. Looking deep into my eyes, he asked,
"And the brown smudges?"

I
let myself get lost in his gaze. "Your eyes. They can be so kind and
gentle when you look at me before you kiss me or give me one of your gentle
smiles. They make me believe there's more to the man who so often seems to hold
me at arm's length. But they watch me always, making me ask questions that
anger you and make you leave me alone."

He
was silent after my confession, and my hands shook in fear that I'd said too
much, revealed too much too soon and ruined everything. He cupped my cheek, and
I leaned into his strong hand. "So honest all the time, my Nina."

Pulling
me to him, Tristan held me close as he stroked my hair and kissed me tenderly
on the lips. In the next room, the couple continued to writhe and grind against
one another, but we stood silently in each other's arms and I felt more
beautiful at that moment than at any other time in my life.

Chapter Seven

Tristan
promised to have my painting framed and hung in his bedroom, thrilling me more
than I thought was possible. I wasn't a painter, in truth, but it was a true
expression of my feelings for and about him, and that he appreciated that meant
the world to me.

That
night, after he'd had Rogers send the couple home, he asked me to stay with him
in his room and we made love again. When I finally fell asleep with my head on
his chest, I was exhausted but happier than I could imagine I'd be with him.

As
before, I woke up alone in his bed, already missing him. This time he'd left a
note on his pillow, and I groggily focused my eyes to read what it said.

Dear
Nina,

I have
to go away for a few days, but I've instructed Rogers to get your painting
framed so I can see it every morning when I wake. I'm sorry I had to leave
before you got up, but I didn't want to disturb you since you looked so sweet
all curled up next to me. While I'm gone, my car and driver are at your
disposal. Feel free to use them to go wherever you like. When I return, your
first official assignment as an assistant curator will begin.

                                                                             Love,

                                                                             Tristan

I
held the paper in my trembling hands and stared at the last two words he'd
written.
Love, Tristan.
Love. Not always, as before. Love.

Was
this all a dream?

It
had only been about a week since we'd first met. Was it possible there was such
a thing as love at first sight and he'd felt that about me? I wanted to believe
that more than anything, but something inside me whispered the doubt that
anyone could fall in love that quickly, especially someone who could have
anyone he wanted.

Times
like this required a heart-to-heart girl talk with Jordan. I hurriedly ran to
my room and then jumped in the shower to get ready for my trip back to Brooklyn. As I fixed my hair and makeup, I realized I hadn't thought about the trip as
going home but going to Jordan's.

I,
too, seemed to have become lost in my feelings.

Jenson
was as accommodating as he was supposed to be, and by lunchtime I was back at
our apartment and looking forward to hashing things out with Jordan. With school's ending, she was on summer vacation, so we had all the time we needed to figure
out if I'd somehow won the romantic equivalent of the lottery or was just
fooling myself into thinking that my situation with Tristan was good when it
was anything but.

I
threw my purse on the kitchen table and yelled for Jordan. Her scream from down
the hall told me she was home and I found her in the bathroom cleaning smeared
streaks of black from her eyelids.

"Jesus,
Nina! I look like a damn raccoon now. Who walks into a person's house and
screams like that?"

Three
tissues later, she was back to finishing her makeup and I said in my best pouty
tone, "Sorry. I thought this was still my place too."

Turning
to face me, she smiled. "It is. I just got a little freaked out when you
yelled. I wasn't expecting you since he came by and paid your part of the rent
for the rest of the year."

The
look on her face—complete with raised eyebrows of disbelief—told me she was
just the person I needed to talk about things with. If there was any tough love
I needed to hear, Jordan would give it to me.

"Yeah,
well, that doesn't mean I would never come back. I need some friend time pronto
and you're the only one I can trust."

Concern
clouded her gaze. Reaching out, she squeezed my arm gently. "What
happened, Nina? Are you okay?"

Nodding,
I smiled. "I'm fine, but I want to stay that way. Can we talk?"

"Yeah,
of course. Let's go for a walk. It's a beautiful day, so it'll feel good."

I
agreed, happy I wore flats instead of the cute little pumps I had grabbed
first. After listening to all the latest news about Justin, I set out with her
for our walk and more importantly, our heart-to-heart.

Sunset Park in the summer was a pretty place, not like what people think big cities look
like at all. The trees were all in bloom, so there was far more green than one
might expect in the concrete jungle. Jordan and I walked our usual route,
enjoying the weather as I told her about my new job and all its great benefits.

"So
you hit the jackpot? This is great!"

I
bit my lower lip. Tilting my head right and left, I said, "Yes and no.
That's what I need your keen insight for."

Jordan stopped and raised one eyebrow. "I know that lip thing. Something's gnawing at
you. And what's this yes and no? I've seen this man in the flesh, my friend.
It's a yes. I nearly fell over dead when he showed up at the apartment. The
watch that he wears alone is worth more than anything I've ever driven. And the
way he says things...it's like honey dripping out of a jar."

I
couldn't help but blush. Tristan was stunning, and when he stood in front of
someone dressed in a suit and tie, he made quite an impression. There was no
doubt about that. His physical side was a resounding "Yes!" without a
doubt. It was the other parts of him that I wasn't sure about.

"He
does have a way when he speaks, although I'm thinking he might have said more
to you than to me by the way you're talking."

We
began to walk again. "Oh, he didn't say much at all, but there's something
about how the words come out. You have to tell me, Nina. Does he sound that
sexy when you're...alone?"

"Since
I have to assume he didn't tell you we're sleeping together, I guess it's that
obvious?" I asked, wondering if I was telegraphing the fact that I was
actively having sex with him.

Jordan turned her head to look at me for a second and then turned back to face forward,
wrinkling her nose a bit. "Actually, it was the way he acted. No man comes
to pay a woman's rent for six months and arrange to take everything she owns to
his house if he isn't sleeping with her, Nina. You're obviously making him
happy."

Happy.
Now that was the tricky part. I sighed and blew the air out of my lungs in a
heavy breath. "That's the problem I need your help with."

"You
aren't going to say he's not happy with you, are you? You've been dating for
less than a week and already he's taking care of you like you're a kept woman.
Seems pretty happy to me."

"I'm
not sure he is happy. I'm not sure about much of anything where Tristan Stone's
concerned, Jordan. He had me sign a contract that I thought was for the job as
an assistant curator at his hotel downtown, but I haven't done any work in that
area yet. He bought me a new wardrobe for the job that literally cost nearly
ten thousand dollars, Jordan, but he picked out all the clothes himself."

Pressing
her hands to above her heart, she said, "I think I'm in love."

I
stopped her and grabbed her arm. "I'm serious. I think I'm being paid to
be his sex slave."

Jordan's laugh was so loud the children playing nearby stopped to pay attention to us. I
guess it sounded funny now that I'd said it out loud.

"Sex
slave? Nina, you're his girlfriend. That's how he's supposed to act.
Girlfriends of wealthy men always have honorary titles and things like that.
You're not expected to actually work."

I
leaned in close to her and whispered, "Then what am I getting paid
for?"

Jordan laughed again. "Honey, this is how wealthy men are. Think of it as an
allowance. Instead of the kind you got when you were a kid, when you had to
clean your room and do the dishes, this is the kind where you make him happy
and he makes you happy with his money."

"But
that's the problem. I don't think I'm making him happy. He goes to events and
never asks me. I seem to be only the woman he keeps around his house."

"Hmmm....well,
I don't think you're getting a bad deal. His driver takes you places, he does
nice things for you, and you like him, don't you?"

I
more than liked him. What had begun as an infatuation quickly had blossomed
into something much more for me and I hoped for him too. I wanted to believe he
meant what he'd written in that note, but I wasn't sure.

"Jordan, he's not like anyone else I've ever dated. Sometimes I can barely get him to answer
me with more than a yes or no. Then he's affectionate sometimes only to be
distant at other times. I don't know what to think."

She
stopped and grabbed me by the shoulders. "That's your problem, Nina.
You're overthinking this. What's wrong with a man giving you everything you want
and all you have to do is be what he wants in return? Isn't that what everyone
wants?"

When
she explained it that way, it all sounded so perfect. He made me happy. I made
him happy. Everyone was happy.

Then
why were those niggling doubts in my mind still sending up red flags?

"Here's
the thing," she said as she began walking back toward the apartment.
"The whole relationship is brand new. Give it a while and see what
happens. I think you might be pleasantly surprised. Good things do happen to
good people. I think you're proof of that."

"I
can't just give it a while, Jordan. I signed a contract for the next six
months."

"And
for that what do you get paid?"

"Sixty."

Jordan smiled. "Honey, you're getting paid sixty grand and you get to live with
Tristan Stone. I think you should be more concerned about convincing him to
keep you for longer than just six months."

"Maybe
that's it. What happens if I fall madly in love with him and he decides to get
rid of me after the time is up?"

"If
you fall madly in love? I can tell by your face now, Nina, that's already
happened. And I wouldn't be surprised to find out that he's crazy about you
too. Just enjoy this. It's not everyday that a girl like you or me gets a guy
like that. Let it ride and when the time is up, who knows what might
happen."

I
blushed at her ability to see through my facade, but my talk with her had
helped, even if just a little. Looking at her, I saw out of the corner of my
eye Jenson standing at the car waiting for me. "I guess it's time to
go."

Jordan gave the man the once over and turned back to face me. "He certainly does like
to know what you're up to, doesn't he? This poor guy hasn't been more than a
few feet from us the whole time."

"What
do you mean?" I asked as I looked over at the driver again as he patiently
leaned against the car.

"Nina,
he followed us the whole time. I didn't say anything because I figured you
knew."

"Of
course I didn't know! Who does that?"

Jordan leaned in and hugged me tightly. In my ear, she whispered, "I told you. Wealthy
people are different. If he can't watch you, he'll have one of his men do it. I
wouldn't worry. At least you'll never get mugged."

Her
joking didn't make what I was feeling any better. "I'll call you, okay?
I'm just glad you have some extra money now. Tell Justin I said hi."

"I
will, honey. And I'll tell Alex you're doing fine. He's asked about you at
least five times this week."

I
smiled. Alex was a decent guy, so it wasn't a bad thing that he was interested.
"Tell him I said hi and I'll be looking for a rematch of our pool game
sometime."

Jordan's face grew serious. "Remember what I said, Nina. Good things do happen to good
people. Don't forget that."

"I
won't."

I
returned to Tristan's house upstate hoping he'd be back, even though his note
had said he'd be gone for a few days. The place was lonely without him, and I
missed him already as I wandered around looking for something to occupy my
time.

Rogers didn't seem to be anywhere to be found, so I explored without restraint, finding a
media room and even a game room with a pool table. An hour or so of shooting
pool by myself and I was even lonelier. Even the stoic butler would have been
welcome company.

The
house had an empty feel to it with just me in it. I'd never been to the attic,
so I roamed up to the top floor and after looking around at a bunch of boxes
and trunks, found one of those heavy, black old-fashioned telephones. On a
whim, I picked up the receiver and heard a dial tone. There wasn't another
landline in the entire house, but this one telephone sat up here all alone and
worked!

Unsure
if I should use it, I looked around and saw I was still alone. My cell phone
got no reception out here, so I took the opportunity to dial my sister's number
and heard her phone begin to ring. It was a small thing, but a rush of
excitement pulsed through me. It felt like I was in one of those old mysteries
and had found something no one else knew about.

"Hello?"
she said loud and clear.

"Kim?"
I whispered. "It's Nina."

"Nina!
I tried to call you two days ago. It went directly to voicemail. Are you
okay?"

Looking
around, I said, "I'm fine. My phone's been acting up. How are you?"

My
sister was married with two beautiful children and lived in a quiet suburban
neighborhood outside of Philadelphia. I hadn't seen my two nieces for months
and just hearing Kim's voice made me wish I was there to see them.

"We're
all good. Jeff's doing well at the firm, and you know the girls. Growing like
weeds. They've been asking about their Aunt Nina, about when she's coming to
see them again."

A
lump formed in my throat. "I know. I've just been really busy. I promise I
won't let so much time go by between calls, Kim."

"What's
wrong, Nina? Your voice sounds so sad."

Kim's
voice reminded me of my father. She had a way of phrasing things that sounded
just like him. Neither of them would think what I was doing with Tristan was
right, and they'd let me know about it. I didn't want to hear that, but I would
have given anything to talk to him again.