Fever Dream (16 page)

“I hope it’s a short stay,” said Petra, and then she flinched. “That didn’t come out right. I mean that I hope Paulsen leaves right away. It’s not that I don’t want to stay here. I just feel terrible for causing all this trouble.”

“It’s not trouble,” Ashleigh said. “Our house is yours for as long as you need it, and we hope you’ll make yourself at home. To that end...” She stood and took her husband’s arm. “We’ll get out of your way. If you need anything, you have the run of the house. Kitchen, laundry, gym—”

“Play room,” Ruby interjected.

“Just ask one of us for help if you need to leave,” Liam said, talking over him. “So we can show you how to disarm the security system first.”

After smiles and good nights, the married couple and Mem excused themselves, leaving Petra and Ruby alone. She glanced down at her bags, thinking she should unpack, but she was fading fast. She took a shower instead, only faintly complaining when Ruby climbed in with her and took up all the space. She pushed Paulsen out of her head. If he wanted to come all the way to London to stalk her, that was his problem. His money, his time, his inconvenience.

She had other things to think about right now, like adjusting to having a roommate for the first time in a decade. Not just any roommate. As soon as she dressed in her pajamas, Rubio walked across the room and took them off her. No words, no cheeky flirtation, just his hands pulling them off and throwing them over a chair.

“I want you naked,” he said. “I want to hold you and sleep with you with no clothes.”

I want.
There was something assured and confident about the way he said it, like he’d never expect her to say no. She loved the way he took whatever he desired, or at least went after it. He drew her over to the bed, his hands spreading out over her breasts, her skin. He kissed her neck and pushed her back on the sheets. “You want me, Petra?”

The way he said her name, with that catch on the ‘r’ and the long, breathy ’a’—it was an aphrodisiac. She wanted him like crazy. “Yes,” she said. “I want you.”

“Say please.”

She stared at his lower lip. She wanted to be good at these games, like him, but he was way out of her league. “Please,” she said, but it sounded desperate, not flirty. His face changed, his expression softening. He held her face and nuzzled against her, giving her a kiss. “It was a hard day, yes? Maybe you’re too tired.”

“I’m not too tired.” Now she really sounded desperate, but his closeness made her crave more. She wanted him. As tired as she was, she couldn’t just fall asleep. His
I want
and his
Say please
had started a drumbeat of desire in her veins.

He traced a finger down the curve of her jaw. “Little liar. You lie so much. Okay, then. I’ll make love to you soft and slow, and put you to sleep before I’m done. Yes?”

“I don’t think I could sleep with you inside me.”

“Hmm. A challenge.” He turned and opened the bedside drawer, rooted around and pulled out a condom.
Manwhore.
He kept condoms in this room, just a couple floors above the dungeon. He stayed here often. He might have slept with two hundred women in this bed. Five hundred.

Five hundred, Petra? Really?
It didn’t matter. She wanted him anyway. Rubio fished out the box of Magnums and showed her the dates. “See? I check the expiration to be extra careful. No babies for you. Not like your mom. Not like Ashleigh.”

Petra felt a sick, nervous feeling every time she thought about Ashleigh Keaton being pregnant. She didn’t know why. Pregnancies were supposed to be happy things. “Did she get pregnant on purpose?” she asked.

He paused in the act of rolling on the condom. “Yes. She wanted a baby. Liam...I don’t know.” He smoothed the latex the rest of the way down. “It’s a long story. But they’ll be good parents. They’re excited to try this new thing.”

“Do you think she’ll dance again?”

He leaned over her, stroking her hair. “I don’t know. I don’t think she wants to dance anymore. Someday, you will be tired of dancing too.”

Petra shook her head before she even thought about it. A world without dance made no sense to her. Stopping, losing her talent, losing the physical ability to do her work...horrifying.

“You don’t think so,” he said, “but there’s so much more to life than what you know.” He held her gaze, smoothing his palm down her belly to the cleft between her legs. “There’s a lot besides dancing. But it’s okay. For now, no babies. Just sex.”

He held her close, stroking her, soothing her with his skillful touches. After a while he turned her so they spooned together, her back to his front. His cock nudged into her from behind, filling her with a long, slow slide. While this coupling wasn’t as frantic and forceful as their previous ones, she felt as controlled as ever cradled within the heat and strength of his chest. He parted her pussy lips and toyed with her clit, and then moved his fingers up to whisper across her sensitive nipples, before delving them down between her legs again.

Petra felt impatient in bed sometimes, maybe because she often didn’t enjoy what her partners were doing, but oh...she liked this. He was so calm, so firm and steady as he fucked her. She really did start to feel a strange combination of sleepiness and arousal. Pleasure built alongside relaxation. He kneaded her shoulders and she reached back to grip his thigh, squeezing the hard muscle when he located a particularly delicious spot.

I want...

Petra had never known she wanted this. Or maybe she’d wanted it forever. This warmth, this gratification. This closeness. She’d never, ever felt this close to someone before. Finally, with no real effort on her part, she reached that point where her breath grew short, and her body strained to achieve completion. He pressed his cheek against hers and sighed. “Mm, yes. Come for me.”

The deep, gruff timbre of his voice vibrated down to her core. His hand spread out on her pussy like he was saying
this is mine
. He slipped his fingertips over her clit and her breath left in a rush. An orgasm started there, right where he touched her, and rolled over her entire body, from her breasts to her shoulders to her head, to her knees and calves, to the tips of her toes. She clamped down on his thick cock as he buried himself deep inside her. One of his hands squeezed in her hair, to the point of pain, past the point of pain, until he unwound behind her.

Then there was nothing. Only satisfaction and his strong arms, and safety...and sleep.

Rubio dreamed he was at home in Rio, standing outside a bakery near his neighborhood. Cinnamon and vanilla scents wafted in the air. He was a child again, wishing for sweet buns and pastries he couldn’t afford to have. He stretched and came to a slow realization that he wasn’t in Brazil at all, but lying in bed beside Petra with his nose buried in her tousled blonde hair.

He blinked, looking toward the window, and stirred gently so he didn’t wake her up. It was still early. Growing up in the hustle and noise of the
favela
, with the shouting of his brothers and sisters and mother and father, he’d never mastered the art of deep sleep. He could appreciate quiet though, and peace. He gazed down at the girl in his arms, watching the subtle fluttering of her lashes. He wanted to put his cock inside her but she was tired. Last night had been difficult, and she’d been restless for hours before she settled down.

He slid from the bed and pulled some sweats from the bureau across the room. He padded downstairs and found Mem making coffee in the kitchen. The old man nodded to the dining room and Rubio drifted into the large, formal space. Liam sat at the head of the table with papers spread out in front of him. He didn’t even look up when Ruby sat down.

“Petra still sleeping?” he asked, his cheek resting on his palm.

“Yes. Dreamland.”

Liam passed a grainy eight-by-ten photograph across the table. “Paulsen went exactly where we thought he’d go, to Petra’s building. He buzzed for about ten minutes, and then snuck in behind another resident.”

Rubio studied the photo of Petra’s stalker. He was a normal-looking guy, with light hair and a slightly rounded, forgettable face. If he passed Paulsen on the street, he’d look right through him.

“What happened at her door?” Ruby asked.

Liam took the photo back. “He knocked. And knocked. And knocked. Eventually he slid a note underneath.”

“You put a guy inside?”

“Yeah, I put a guy inside. I didn’t know if he’d try to break in and make himself at home. After he left, he checked into a hotel halfway between her place and the theater. She won’t be able to walk around town for a bit. Not without crossing his path.”

“Thanks for letting her stay here,” Rubio said to his friend, feeling uncharacteristically somber. “Me too. But especially her.”

“It’s safer here.” Liam tapped restlessly at the note. “I’m worried though, and I don’t worry easily. I have a really off feeling about this guy.”

“What does that mean? Odd feeling?”

“No,
off
feeling. Like something’s off. I can’t figure out where this guy’s head is at. He’s angry with you, that’s a given. My worry is what happens when he starts to feel angry with her.”

Mem came in with coffee and joined them. As Liam’s assistant, he’d already know the details of the case. He might even have been the man who stayed at Petra’s apartment last night.

“What about the theater?” Ruby asked. “There’s a security system, but people slip in, invite friends. There are visitors and deliveries, always outsiders wandering around.”

“That’s gonna have to change, at least while Paulsen’s in London. Based on the obsessive nature of his behavior and his actions last evening, Petra’s been granted an emergency restraining order. Next move is to get him bounced back to New York.”

“How do we do that?”

“Through legal channels. I’m working on it. It might take a few days or a couple weeks. It depends.”

“Can I see the note he left her?”

Liam had photocopies in front of him but he handed Rubio the original. He expected blood-soaked drawings and curse-laden fragments but it was handwritten in very even, neat print.

Since you don’t seem inclined to come back, or answer my emails, I decided to come here. I think you’re very confused about what’s going on between us. I’ve come here to make things a bit more clear.

I know you’re busy with your dancing, and I have patience—to a point. I have less patience with continually rude behavior. If you don’t meet with me soon, or start replying to my emails, I’m going to assume you have no respect for me and do what it takes to rectify that. Whatever it takes.

Dearest Petra, you belong with me. I’ll take good care of you and in return I know you’ll take good care of me. You’ll always be my pretty little girl, but you’re being awfully headstrong right now. I don’t want to hurt you because that will hurt me, so let’s hope this is only a rebellious phase. Your “friend” Rubio is probably putting ideas in your head that aren’t true. I don’t want him touching you. I’ll do what I have to do to make that stop.

Talk to me, Petra. Let’s straighten things out between us.

He concluded with his number and the address of his hotel. Ruby re-folded the note. “
I’ll do what I have to do to make that stop.
What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. The threats are so vague. It would be easier if he diagrammed out his diabolical plans in detail.
I’m going to ambush you outside the stage door and slit your throat with a serrated knife.
See, then we’d know what we’re dealing with.”

Mem made a chiding sound. “Don’t joke about such things.”

Rubio rubbed his neck. “Jesus, Liam.”

“I’m kidding,” he said to his friend with a sympathetic half-smile. “He hasn’t said anything like that. He hasn’t said anything useful at all, except that he disapproves of you, and he’s disgruntled with Petra’s behavior and he wants her to return home to live with him. Happily ever after, etcetera.”

Ruby shook his head. “I never understood this stalking thing, how people can be so...out of reality. ‘
You’ll always be my pretty little girl. I don’t want to hurt you because it will hurt me.
’ Is ridiculous, silly. Melodramatic.”

“But look, Ruby, this is a guy who, for whatever reason, has taken an extended vacation from reality. He comes from a wealthy family, probably has always gotten his way from day one. He has no job, few friends, just his fantasies and desires racing around in his head. He believes, literally, that he owns Petra. That she’s run away from his loving care and that he has a right to collect her. What if his ultimate plan is to drag her back to New York and chain her up in his place?”

Rubio scoffed, stirring cream into his coffee. “He could never do it. She wouldn’t quietly get on a plane, or quietly go to his place and cooperate.”

“No, she wouldn’t. So what do you think happens then? When she doesn’t go quietly? When she stands up to him and tells him to go fuck himself? What have sociopathic, scorned men done to women throughout history?”

Mem shifted in the silence, his face a fathomless mask. Rubio stared down into his coffee. Petra was in danger. Real, honest-to-goodness danger.

“How long will she have to worry?” asked Rubio. “How long will this go on? Forever?”

Liam hunched over the papers, shuffling them into a disorganized pile. “I don’t know. I wish I could tell you that this will be over next week. That he’ll come to his senses and fuck off back to New York. I wish that would happen, but I doubt it will. Maybe the restraining order will make a difference. Maybe he’ll go on some meds and get over her. Maybe he’ll get hit by a bus. Problem solved.”

“You can make that bus thing happen, can’t you?” he asked his friend hopefully.

“I could, except it would be first-degree murder, which is against the law.” Liam pushed the papers away from him with a sigh. “It would be easier if she could disappear for a while. If she wasn’t so accessible to the public. There’s nothing to stop him coming to watch her perform every night if he wanted to. He could sit in the front row, practically reach out and touch her. He could slip backstage while the lights are low—”