Angel After Dark (5 page)

“What is it you wanted?” His voice was flat as he twisted out of her hold and moved to a chair in front of the big glass window in the living room. The lights of downtown Chicago flickered as he sank down into its softness. Alex’s mind raced with what to do about an almost unbearable situation. He itched to get the fuck out of there and never deal with this shit again. Or, it could be just like the hundred other nights he’d spent in this apartment. A few drinks, they’d fuck, and then… nothing. He’d get up and leave and that would be the end of it… but tonight, he wanted it to be the end. For
good
.

She followed him and knelt down behind the chair.

“Whitney. Answer the goddamned question. What—do—you—want?”

She reached around and ran a hand down his chest, turning her head and pulling his earlobe into her mouth and raking it with her teeth, trying to get a reaction out of him. If he closed his eyes, he could let it happen, but did he really want to? He pulled away just enough for her mouth to leave his skin.

“So, you want to fuck?” Alex asked bluntly over his shoulder. His tone was sour and it sounded harsh, even to his own ears. He felt dead inside, indifferent. He could take it or leave it.

She froze. “No. I want you to give a shit about me. I want you to stop fucking around with your friends,” she said harshly.

“We’ve been over this countless times. The conversation is getting old.” He lifted her hand off of his body and flung it aside, and she gasped in response.

Her voice turned sickeningly sweet as she changed her tack, and her hands returned to his chest again. “Alex, I want you to make love to me…” she purred, as she started to pull his tie completely undone and open a couple of the buttons on his white shirt. His hand came up to cover hers and stop her movement. He stood up, effectively breaking the contact and took a few steps toward the window, away from her.

“When have we ever made love?
We fuck
,” he dismissed.

She gasped, a shocked expression flashing across her face.
“Do you have to be such a bastard?” she rasped out loudly. “You think because you’re rich and good-looking, you can treat me like trash? You’re such a prick!”

He turned and looked at her for the first time. She was dressed in some outrageously expensive lingerie with ridiculous feather trim on the robe that hung open to reveal only lace panties and a matching bra underneath. His eyes traveled down her body indifferently, and he took another sip from his glass. Her body was beautiful—there was no denying that—with voluptuous curves in all the right places. Except for those silicone tits that she’d insisted on getting last year. They’d cost him thousands and he couldn’t care less. Alex watched her with his eyes, but his fingers and lips wanted soft, warm, and real. Not hard, plastic, and fake. Maybe he
was
getting old, like his mother had warned him about. He shook off the thought as quickly as it came. He needed to get this shit out of the way.

“How am I a bastard?” he asked flatly, waving his hand casually around at the elegantly furnished apartment. “You have everything you need. I told you in the beginning that this was a physical relationship for me. That’s what fits into my lifestyle. You
agreed
. I never lied to you about my intentions, and nothing has changed. I still don’t want more than that. But lately, even sex… It’s like fucking a Barbie doll. If I wanted a blow-up doll, I’m sure they’re a hell of a lot less expensive than what you managed to suck out of me every month.” He was cold; he knew it and he didn’t care.

Her blue eyes hardened, and she scowled at him. “It’s the least you can do, you lousy bastard.” Her voice finally broke on the words, and Alex felt a twinge of regret despite himself. “After all this time, don’t you care for me at all?”

“Not in the way you want. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I want you to be safe and happy, but I’m certainly not in love with you, Whitney. I’m not sure I’m even capable of those types of feelings. I won’t apologize for being the way I told you I’d be.”

She huffed, and her eyes welled with angry tears at the cold tone in his voice. “I don’t believe you, Alex. You show up here maybe once or twice a month for sex and that’s it?”

“No, that’s not it. We do things. I take you places and on trips… it’s known in my circle that you and I are together. I don’t treat you like a whore. What the fuck do you want from me?” Alex said shortly. He felt suffocated, caustic… like a caged animal that wanted freedom.

“More,” Whitney said, simply.

Alex sighed. There just wasn’t more.

“I’m very busy running the company, and I don’t want or need romantic bullshit!” Alex’s voice took on a harsher tone. “Shit, half of the time I’m not even in town, for Christ’s sake! I’m not going to argue about this, and I don’t feel the need to repeat myself. This is how it is! Take it or leave it.”

Fuck! Did I just give her a choice?
He wanted to kick his own ass.

She put her hand over her mouth and turned away. “Is there something that you need from me, that I don’t give you, Alex?” Her voice was smarmy and evil sounding. “Don’t I make you come hard enough? Isn’t my pussy tight enough or my tits big enough?”

He sucked in a deep breath. There were
many
things he could add, but he wasn’t going to add insult to injury. “Shut the hell up! You sound like trash when you talk that way! It isn’t that complicated! It just doesn’t feel right anymore! For either of us. Just see it for what it is.”

“What is it?”

“What. It. Is. Nothing more, nothing less,” Alex said shortly. His tone was dull, devoid of absolutely all emotion.

She pursed her lips and looked at the floor, nodding her head slightly. “I guess I’ll
leave it
then. I want to get married and have kids. I wanted that with you.” She let out a shaky breath. “I know. Who would have thought it? Me. Wanting to be a mother?”

Alex moved across the room and set his glass down on the end table so he could pull her lightly into his arms, and she laid her head down on his shoulder and cried softly. Children weren’t something he considered, but he did know that if he ever did, it wouldn’t be with this woman.

“Alex, I love you.”

Instantly he stiffened, her words reminding him that she was not what he wanted, and he couldn’t give her what she needed.

“Stop. I know you think saying that will change my mind, but it won’t. It has the opposite result.” All these months of her demanding money and incessantly hissing in his ear had left him with no emotions for her. It showed in how he spoke to her, his cold demeanor, and his stiffness as he pushed her gently away. “I’m sorry, but this is over. You can stay in the apartment. I’ll keep paying for it until you tell me you’re settled or… whatever.”

He pulled her arms from around him and left her standing in the middle of the room. She followed after him, wrapping her hands around his body and pulling his unresponsive form as close to her as she possibly could. “Don’t go. Make love to me, just once. Just one more time. Then you can leave—” she begged, desperation hanging heavily on her words, “—if you still want to.”

Alex inwardly cringed. As virile as he was, as much as he loved sex, the thought of it with Whitney in this circumstance left him cold. He stilled and pulled her arms from around his body once again. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Whitney. But I’m just… not into this anymore. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but I don’t want to drag this shit out. Just let it go.”

Her face became hard and filled with anger. “So this is it? Just like that?”

“Hardly just like that. Be honest. It hasn’t been exciting for months. We want different things out of relationships, and you’re materialism has killed the desire for me.” He turned and picked up his tie and jacket as he made his way toward the door. “Call Mrs. Dane if you need anything and she’ll make sure you are taken care of.” Alex wanted nothing more than to be done with her but felt a certain responsibility. His personal assistant could take care of any loose ends. That was her job and she was excellent at it.

“You dick! I hate you!” She picked up the glass he had left on the table and flung it at him. “I hate you! Do you hear me? You’re a fucking bastard, Alex!” she screamed after him, but he kept walking as if she hadn’t uttered a word.

“So you’ve said.” He always hated this part of it, but it was inevitable. Every woman he’d ever dated had ended up wanting more, and the more they wanted, the more he pulled away. He didn’t just get bored and lose interest, he felt suffocated.

The door shut quietly behind him. His usual pattern was repeating itself yet again.

No emotion, no anxiety, no remorse—just
relief
.

2

Phone Sex

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. His head ached, and he was exhausted from the week. Avery Enterprises had been losing money on one of its hotels in Munich, and his father sent him to audit the books when a couple million dollars went missing. This wasn’t a big concern in the big scheme of the business as a whole, but it was the principle of the thing. Even a company the size of this one couldn’t afford to have employees who were skimming off the top.

Several food and liquor expenditures from the restaurant couldn’t be substantiated with the appropriate receipts, and Alex was able to find the discrepancy easily. Both the CFO and the executive chef of the property had been fired as a result. It was the chef that was padding his pockets, but if the CFO had been doing his job, it wouldn’t have been Alex who found the error from half a world away during a semi-annual audit. He wasn’t even angry when shit like this happened anymore, but he was fucking sick of all he traveling.

The first class cabin was dark as the Boeing 737 taxied onto the tarmac toward the terminal at O’Hare International, which sometimes felt like it literally took hours. So many planes waiting to take off on the numerous runways made Alex impatient. He leaned back in his seat and checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time; 9:45 PM on Friday night. Cole and Darian had both called asking him to meet them at a local club. He pulled his tie off and shoved it in the front pocket of his laptop case, before running a hand through his hair. Between the two of them, and Whitney’s unending attempts to get him to call her back, it left 20 unheard messages on his cell phone. All since he’d taken off from his connection in London.

He sighed heavily. Really, all he wanted was a drink, a hot shower, and his bed. The question was should he go to his apartment downtown or his estate? Either one was about the same distance from the airport, but at least he’d be able to hang with his Golden Retriever at the house.

His phone rang again, and he reached for it from the front pocket of his dress pants, glancing at the faceplate as he did so.

“Yeah? Miss me bad, huh, D?”

“Save it, asshole. Where are you?”

The plane was just pulling up to the terminal, and the jet walk was moving into place. “Just got in. I’m gonna have serious jet lag, man. I’m out for tonight.”

“Okay. I probably should go to the station anyway, unless you need a ride?”

“No. I’m having a car pick me up.” Alex stood up and pulled his laptop case from under the seat with one hand and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m good.”

“Maybe we can get together to play racquetball or something next week?”

“Sure, sounds like a plan.” Alex made his way to the front of the jet, and the flight attendant gave him a warm smile, her eyes roaming over him in slow appreciation. His lips twitched slightly in amusement, but he kept walking through the jetway and into the terminal with casual purpose.

“I sent you something, Alex. Are you going to the apartment tonight?”

“I was considering going to the house. Max will be missing me, and my housekeeper has earned some time off after this week. Why?”

“Uh, well, I sent you one of the promos from the show,” Darian said with a chuckle. “Thought you might like to see how fucked your perception of the lovely doctor really
is,
but it can wait. Just let me know if you’ve changed your mind after you see it.”

Alex smiled tiredly. His curiosity was piqued despite his insistence that he was totally indifferent to Darian’s continued baiting about this woman. It had become something of a game between them, and he chuckled. “Well, it won’t make any difference. She’s probably frigid. And, Whitney has been damn relentless this week. It’s enough to make my dick shrivel up in defiance so I’m useless to the opposite sex. Why are you on my ass about her, anyway?”

“Because you won’t believe how unbelievably hot she is, man. Despite the fact that the radio show is doing well and it’s really helping me professionally, I’m waiting with baited breath until she doesn’t work for me anymore. Then I can make a move on her
myself
.”

“Mmmm… Well, if I’m to believe what you say, she’ll bite your dick off for you.” Alex laughed as his driver pulled up and took his bags from him. “Then where would you be? You won’t be able to show her who’s boss.”

Darian burst out laughing on the other end of the phone. “Well, I’m thinking it just might be worth it, Alex.”

“Not likely. You know how I feel about that. I’d never let any woman lead me around by my dick.
Ever
. You need a distraction in a bad way.” His phone beeped as another call came through and interrupted.
Fuck, it’s her again
. “Hey, man, I have to go. Whitney’s calling again. I either have to talk to her or get my number changed. I’ll call you in a couple of days and we’ll set up the game.”

“I vote for the new number. Later, Alex.”

Alex slid into the back of the limo and clicked over to the other call. “Alexander Avery.” The impersonal greeting was deliberate.

“Hey, baby,” she purred on the other end of the phone.

“Hold on.” He put his hand over the phone so he could speak with his driver. “Martin, to Water Tower, please.”

He made the decision to spend the night in his downtown apartment, one of the most expensive and prestigious establishments in all of Chicago. It was right in the middle of the city, and it made getting to the office ten times easier than commuting from Evanston. However, at the moment, it was the promise of those photos that lured him there. During the conversation with his best friend, maybe he’d gotten just a tiny bit interested in the intriguing picture that Darian had painted.

“Okay, Whitney. What can I do for you?” Alex’s tone was unemotional and businesslike;
 
his mind went blank as the lights of the interstate and other cars reflected off of the darkened windows.

“Come over. I’m lonely,” she said softly. He rolled his eyes in disgust. He wasn’t in the mood to repeat this scene.

“Uh, were you not there last week when we ended it? That
was
you, right?” he asked, his voice turned ice cold and dripping sarcasm.

“Alex…” she began pleadingly, but he cut her off.

“No. Whitney, I’m beat, and I’m not interested in a repeat performance.”

She didn’t say anything, and he grew uncomfortable with the silence.

He sighed. “Look, I thought we decided this was best, didn’t we?” He really didn’t mean to be a prick, but he had to be damn careful of what he said because if the door opened even a crack, she’d be through it so fast his head would be spinning.

More silence followed, except for the sniffling on the other end of the line. He decided to distract her, even piss her off a little bit, so he could get her off the phone. He was already thinking about Darian’s radio prodigy and used it for fodder.

“I heard about your call to that radio psychologist last week. Let me remind you of the delicate nature of my position on this. It had better not result in nasty rumors being tossed around in tawdry gossip rags. Keep my name and my company out of it, Whitney, or there’ll be hell to pay. If you need to see a shrink to feel better, then see one, but don’t distribute my private business all over town. You’d do well to get more respect for yourself as well.”

She audibly gasped on the other end of the line. “I didn’t call,” she lied, and Alex was exasperated.

“Look, cut the shit. I know all about it, and I expect you to handle yourself with more decorum.”

“How… how did you find out?” she stammered.

“It’s irrelevant.” Obviously, she was oblivious that his best friend ran that station. It only solidified his decision. “Just don’t let it happen again, or I’ll yank all the money immediately. Is that clear?” he said coldly.

“You never cease to amaze me how cold you can be, Alex. I should have listened to that host when she told me to dump your ass instead of trying to make things better. I’m such a fool!” She was angry, but her voice held some semblance of pain, too, and he just wanted to be done with her.

“No, you’re not a fool. But you’re trying to salvage something that isn’t worth saving, Whitney. Goodnight.”

So, Angeline Hemming told you to dump my ass, did she?
Alex was tired, and now he was agitated as hell.
Who does this bitch think she is, giving advice on situations she knows nothing about?
Not that he was upset that things were over with insidious Whitney, but he’d be damned if he’d be painted as the villain in the whole thing.

It was after eleven by the time Alex walked into his apartment, and he tossed his suit jacket and laptop on the dark brown leather sectional. It sat opposite the large windows that composed the North and East walls of the room; one of them was fitted with a sliding glass door that led onto the balcony of his 23rd floor penthouse. He grabbed the remote and pulled his shirt free of his slacks as he flipped on CNN then walked to his well-stocked bar. He pulled down a glass from the cabinet and poured some scotch, downed it, and filled it again before he went in search of Darian’s little
gift.

He found an envelope on the dining room table labeled KKIS FM 105.4. The building concierge was instructed to put his mail inside the apartment whenever he was traveling, and the large, white envelope easily stood out from the smaller ones.

He took it, with his scotch, and wandered back into the living room, sinking down into the luxurious couch cushions. He took a swallow and then ripped the end of the envelope open; anxious to be able to call Darian and tell him he was full of shit.

His full lips lifted in a mocking smile as he pulled the photos from the confines of the envelope and he was left looking at a black and white photo of a woman’s face, but only the lower half of it, her full lips pursed and her finger vertical against them in a shushing motion.
The long dark hair draping down on either side of her smooth face fell in full, silken waves. The photo was cropped at the top of her cheeks and Alex found himself feeling very cheated that he didn’t get to see the rest. She had a perfect nose and high cheekbones accenting the flawlessness of her skin
 
and those amazing lips begged to be kissed.
Darian had succeeded. His interest was piqued and he definitely wanted to know more about this woman. Air left his lungs in an irritated rush, pissed that he’d fallen for it so easily.

The only color on the photo was her lips, the nail polish, and the lettering,
Angel After Dark, Fridays 10 PM–2 AM, KKIS FM 104.5 and
the scrawled slogan below it,
What’s your Midnight Confession?
All in blood red.

“Hmphhh.” He expelled his breath and carelessly tossed the photo on the coffee table. Alex frowned, just as upset with himself for being sucked in as he was with his friend for setting him up.

Screw Darian,
he thought.

This gave barely a glance of what she really looked like, and Alex was still skeptical that it was even her.

“Pfffttt…” he muttered and then pulled out his phone and quickly banged out a text to his friend, never intending to tell Darian he actually liked the hints of what he saw in the promo piece.

D– Was this shit was supposed to get my dick hard? Seriously?

In thirty seconds, his phone vibrated in his hand as he walked into his bedroom, intent on a hot shower. He laughed aloud at the message.

Those are VERY luscious lips, asswipe. You should see what they’re connected to!

Alex was still smirking when his thumbs hammered out his response.

It’s probably not even HER. If you wanted me to squirm, you should have included a real picture, dickhead.

Darian quickly replied.

Just turn on the fucking radio, Alex. Listen and then we’ll talk.

Alex threw his phone on the bed, wandered into the bathroom, and flipped on the radio built into the marble wall, reluctantly tuning to Darian’s station. This was a very masculine room, just like the rest of his apartment, done in neutrals and darker tones, but warm and comfortable. The bathroom was as luxurious as the rest of the place with a large, glass-enclosed walk-in shower with nine shower heads, eight of them in the walls and all adjustable, a large sunken whirlpool bathtub, which had never been used, track lighting, and gleaming, deep brown marble everywhere. The fixtures were a burnished gold rather than silver and the porcelain, a rich cream.

He shed his clothes and left them where they landed on the floor as he turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature. The music from the radio filled the room, and he wondered if he had the right station. The acoustics in the room were incredible, and sound would fill the space even with the water running.

Alex didn’t recognize the song but soon a couple of commercials played, and he was well into shampooing his hair and letting the hot water take away the strain of the day before the talk show came back on air.