STORM: A Standalone Romance (55 page)

“I’ve got something else to show you.”

I turned around to see Dan right before he tangled his hand in my hair and kissed me, hard. I fought to keep up with his insistent, aggressive tongue, but our teeth clashed almost painfully several times.

“Gently,” I said, smiling at him.

“I want you so bad,” he said, kissing me again, his hand painful in my hair, his other hand pawing at the sides of my shirt again, searching for what was underneath.

We did a slow waltz to the bed, me at war with myself and with Dan, not sure that I wanted this—even if I was turned on. I was trying to extricate myself from what was swiftly becoming a bad situation.

“Dan, wait,” I said, at the moment we fell into the soft mattress. “I don’t think…I’m still not ready.”

“Are you ever going to be ready, Beauty?” he asked. “Maybe you should just take the plunge.”

“I can’t,” I said simply. “Not until I’m sure. There are a lot of things going on with me, Dan. You knew that going in.”

“I think maybe you should just get over it,” he suggested.

I blinked a couple of times. “Get over it? Do you think it’s that easy?”

“Here’s what I think is easy.” His hand, which had never disentangled itself from my hair, yanked my head back painfully.

“Ow, Dan, what the fuck?” I complained, reaching back for his fingers.

He yanked again, and I inhaled sharply. What was he doing?

“I think you give me what I want, right now,” he said.

“Stop joking around,” I said. “It’s not funny anymore, Dan.”

“It’s not funny that I’ve been walking around with blue fucking balls for the past fucking month,” he sniped. “And it’s also not funny that you know more about my company than I do.”

I was slow—oh, so slow—to understand that this wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t a game. Dan might’ve been drunk, but he knew exactly what he was doing.

He was hurting me. He was using me. And I had walked right into it.

“So give me what I want, Beauty,” he said, his face menacingly close to mine. “Or I’ll take it.”

The situation I’d found myself in was so ludicrous, so bizarre that I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around the fact that it was actually happening.

Dan Shepard, the vice president of Shepard Shipments, a man who had more money than he knew what to do with, who was gorgeous and charismatic, who had shown more than a passing interest of me, was now stinking drunk and in my face, demanding something of me that I wasn’t about to give him.

How had this deteriorated so far? We’d been on a date—and having a very good time, I thought—before coming back to his place. Everything had been fine up until this point. Maybe Dan had a little too much to drink, but I could admit to being a little tipsy myself.

Until now, of course. I’d been shocked and disgusted and scared completely sober by Dan’s sudden switch.

“What’ll it be, Beauty?” he asked me, his liquor-tinged breath filling my nostrils, making me want to gag. It was hard to breathe; he had his full weight on top of me and a hand tangled in my hair, pulling painfully and making it even harder to figure out how to extricate myself from this, or if that option was even available to me.

Was there a way out of this?

I fought down a rising tide of panic and pain and hurt. There would be time for all of that later. Right now, I had to deal with the crisis at hand. I had to try and understand what was happening before I could push toward a solution.

Dan had said I’d been giving him blue balls. It was an ugly concept. I hadn’t been trying to cause him duress, but there it was. I’d asked for us to take it slow, and he’d always been pushing us along. This very morning, when he’d shown up, unannounced, to my apartment bearing breakfast and asked me out for tonight’s date, I’d expressed misgivings. There were things I just wasn’t ready to do again yet. In my grief and guilt at being the person responsible for four deaths that had included my parents and best friend, I’d tried to fill the hole inside of me with sex.

Now that I was emerging on the other side of that dark period of my life, I wanted to be sure that sex was something
I
wanted with a person I
cared
for.

Dan, however, was pushing for me to make that decision sooner rather than later.

The other thing he’d said before he forced himself on me was that he was sick of me knowing more about Shepard Shipments than he did. That struck me as strange. How could I possibly know more about the company Dan was a vice president of than he did? I was just a lowly assistant to his brother, Roland, who was the president.

In an instant, I understood. Myra, my predecessor, had alerted me to the fact that being Roland’s assistant meant a lot more than what it sounded like. Since Roland tended to lock himself away in his office, unseen, his assistant acted as his brain, eyes, ears, and mouth throughout the rest of the company. I attended meetings in his stead and reported back to him both what had transpired and what I thought about it.

It was that last little bit of analytical work that had apparently begun to endear me to Roland. He’d started relying on my opinion more and more—and the fresh eyes my relative inexperience brought to the table. That was why he’d invited me to take notes at his conference call with the heads of other companies across the globe. He’d wanted my input on the direction he was thinking of taking Shepard Shipments.

And Dan wanted the knowledge I’d gleaned from that night. He’d asked this morning, and I’d deflected. It hadn’t seemed right to divulge what had happened in Roland’s office—not the positive feedback he’d gotten from his colleagues about expanding the company into Africa and Asia ahead of Europe, and certainly not the fact that Roland had admitted to having feelings for me that went a little beyond that of boss and employee.

And definitely not the fact that I’d told him the feeling was mutual.

Dan’s foul breath brought me back to my present predicament. I was going to have to do some quick stepping to get myself out of this one. I could acquiesce to what he was asking for and then make my escape, maybe by saying I wanted to freshen up in the bathroom. Or I could just tell him to fuck off and fight for all I was worth. I thought Dan was a good person, but I’d obviously been horribly mistaken.

I’d also thought that Roland was a beast, just like the rest of the office, but I’d been mistaken in that judgment, too.

It was Dan who was the beast.

Never mind that whatever path I chose probably meant the end of my career. Whatever was about to happen, I couldn’t go back to the office in the morning and pretend like everything was all right. Nothing was all right. Dan was in the midst of forcing himself upon me, and there would be no good way to keep my job. It would never stand in court. I could hear it now…lowly assistant threw herself at rich executive, then accused him of raping her.

It didn’t look good, and it didn’t matter what the truth was.

The real truth was that, no matter what happened, I wasn’t going to come out of this unscathed.

A soft snore, then a louder one, startled me out of my planning. I carefully craned my neck sideways and peered downward to see that Dan had passed out drunk right on top of me, drooling a little onto the expensive comforter we were sprawled on top of.

If I hadn’t been just about to fight for my life, I would’ve laughed at how stupid this all was. All of that bluster and Dan was too drunk to make good on his threat.

Cautious, I wriggled a bit just to see if he’d wake up, but Dan only snorted and smacked his lips before resuming his deep sleep. That was just fine with me. I heaved and scrambled in earnest out from underneath his heavy frame until I fell off the bed itself with a heavy thump. Dazed, I just rested there a few long seconds, breathing hard, sure the disturbance was enough to wake him.

But when I peeked above the bed again, I was greeted with Dan’s sleeping face, his dark beard glistening with his own saliva. It was pathetic, really. What had I ever seen in him? Had his looks and position of power blinded me to the animal that resided within him? Perhaps the fact that he had shown me the slightest bit of attention? Had I made myself easy to take advantage of? I’d removed myself from society after the car wreck. Had I completely lost my ability to assess other people’s intentions in the interim?

I didn’t want to stay here while I pondered the intricacies of what had just happened. I had to get out of here.

The veneer of Dan’s amazing home had worn off as I padded through it, trying to keep my footfalls quiet. Even the wall-sized indoor waterfall had taken on a menacing feeling instead of being meditative, relaxing.

I realized my hands were shaking in the elevator, but I put on a brave face down in the lobby. It was late; I was without transportation; and I needed help.

“Would you please call me a taxi?” I asked, fighting to keep a polite smile on my face as I approached the doorman.

“You’re in luck,” he said, pointing outside. “Someone just got dropped off. Here—I’ll hold it for you.”

The shaking intensified once I was in the backseat of the taxi, riding across the city, rain lashing the window and making everything blurry. It rained a lot here, something I still hadn’t gotten used to. It wasn’t as if it had never rained in Houston. On the contrary, sometimes the Texas skies simply opened up and dumped tons and tons of water on the city below, flooding yards and even streets. But here, in Seattle, the city seemed more used to the rain. It wasn’t tumultuous when the clouds overfilled with moisture. It was simply the next most natural thing to happen, and the people who lived here just became attached to their galoshes and umbrellas.

I hadn’t adapted yet. I wasn’t used to anything here.

It wasn’t until I was back in my apartment, showering in an effort to wash this night off of me, that everything sort of hit me. Dan wasn’t who I thought he was. He’d invited me over to his place with ulterior motives and bad intentions. I had almost succumbed to what he was going to force me to do. It was only through the grace of my shock and indecision—and the gallons of alcohol that Dan had downed—that had saved me from whatever he’d had in mind.

If he hadn’t have passed out right on top of me, then I would still be in that palatial hell, forced to have sex with him against my will….

I shuddered and leaned against the tiled wall of my shower, my knees feeling suddenly too weak to support me. Was that what would’ve happened? I couldn’t help but wonder who would’ve been more at fault. I trusted Dan. I believed he really cared for me and had feelings for me. Had I misunderstood everything that had happened between us up until this point? Had I put myself in danger—however unwittingly? Our relationship had been becoming more and more physical. Could I be held accountable for what almost happened?

I tried to shake myself free of that notion. No. Dan had betrayed my trust. He had lured me to his place under false pretensions. He’d planned this out since this morning. He was a bad person. He was a bad person, and I wasn’t ever going to see him again.

Finally, I gained the strength to be sure that I was not going to collapse getting out of the shower and turned the water off. I was able to get into a robe and wrap my dripping hair into a towel before throwing myself into bed. This felt like a bad dream, a nightmare that I had yet to wake up from. I was afraid of staying awake and dwelling on all of this confusion and shock, but my mind and body seemed to take pity on me in this situation and I fell quickly into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Waking up, some rare sun cut across my bed and warmed the covers; I was beneath them, still wrapped in damp terrycloth. I forgot, momentarily, where I was. The disorientation clung to me as I struggled to open my gummy eyes and assess the situation. Could I be in my childhood bed, my parents having yet to call me for breakfast? Maybe I’d stayed the night at Caro’s house, and she was still snoozing beside me. I knew I wasn’t in the hospital; there wasn’t a telltale beep of a heart monitor. And I was too comfortable to be waking up in my car.

I blinked slowly, my eyes gradually adjusting, until my bedroom in Seattle came into focus. I needed to pick up. I’d slung clothes around while I was getting ready for my date with Dan….

And with a rush, there it all was again. No matter how hard I willed it to be, Dan acting like a monster hadn’t been a dream. It had really happened. I flopped over onto my stomach with a groan and pressed my face into the pillow. Why was this happening? What had he been thinking? What was I thinking?

My phone buzzed, and I groaned. Surely I had just a few more long moments to languish in bed before I had to get up and get ready for work. I gagged suddenly at the thought of being in the same building as Dan, let alone seeing him. It was crystal clear to me that I was nowhere near ready to go to work today.

I needn’t have bothered with that sentiment. A quick glance at my phone informed me that I’d overslept by two whole hours, missing calls and texts from Roland, Dan, and even Sam, who must’ve caught a whiff of controversy from her position at the receptionist’s desk on my floor.

Hers was the most recent text message.
Are you okay?
it read.
Everyone’s wondering where you are.

I hesitated. Was I okay? Absolutely not. But was I about to tell anyone else that? No. I needed a poker face. I didn’t want anyone questioning me.

I was sick all night and must’ve overslept my alarm
, I texted back. The oversleeping part was true, at least.
I’m not coming in today.

Roland’s message was next.
You’re not at work, and I have a feeling I know why. I’m not angry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I hope you’re all right.

I rubbed my face, feeling guilty. He probably thought I didn’t want to come to work to face him after he’d admitted having feelings for me. Hadn’t we agreed that we’d be professionals about it? That was, of course, before his brother had threatened me and tried to attack me. And now that I failed to show up to work or give Roland a call, he probably thought I couldn’t handle it.

I forwarded the same message I’d sent to Sam to him, explaining my absence, then hesitated before typing something else out.

And it’s not because of what we talked about, either
, I wrote.
That’s not why I’m at home. I promise.
I sent the message before I could overthink it.

My fingers failed me for a few long moments, lingering over the display for Roland’s messages, before seeing what Dan had sent me. I didn’t know why I tortured myself, why I simply had to see what he wanted to say. Hadn’t he said enough last night? Wouldn’t he have the sense to stay away?

We need to talk
, Dan had typed, and that was it. I stared at the message, puzzled. We needed to talk? At the very least, he should’ve started with an apology if he thought we actually needed to talk. What else could there possibly be to talk about?

I threw my phone aside and burrowed back into the bed. I had the day to myself, now that I’d officially informed everyone I needed to that I wasn’t going in to work, but somehow that was worse. Maybe I would’ve been better off at work, near Roland…safe. I didn’t really understand why, but the idea of being just a closed door away from Roland all day, his camera pointed at my desk, was a lot more appealing than being alone, at home.

At least there would be someone to keep an eye on me, at the office. Someone who made me feel safe.