Attraction (5 page)

“Regardless,” Michael said, thankfully shifting himself off of my legs, “you forgot him—even if it was for a short while. Look, it was your first time. Stay here with me now. Now that you know what to expect, and now that you know that you will have a few hours of thoughtlessness, let me deaden the thrashing thoughts that ripen your misery.”

I had asked for his help, the only way he could give it, and Michael knew that I was frail. And even more frightening was the fact that his desire
to help
and to console me were unexplainably nowhere to be seen or heard once we passed the entrance to his torture chamber.

But I followed him still.

That evening transpired no different than it had the first time. He held me captive and bestowed upon me an anguish that anesthetized me from the wounds I carried. Only this time he proceeded to gag me—with a gag ball—so that I would be silenced. I was cut off to Alexander, the world, and now I had lost my voice as well. But, at the end of each penance, I would fall into a coma of exhaustion; so at least I was getting
some
form of sleep.

The next seven days passed with indifference to how I was throwing my life away. But they did pass. I went through the motions of my days at work, though getting to work was a task in itself. I mostly locked myself behind the safety of my office doors, heavy hearted and bruised beyond recognition. Lucky for me my clothes hid the marks left by Michael, which worsened as I had returned to him daily. The evidence of punishment was obvious and severe.

Any flash of clarity that made itself known in my mind was quickly washed away by tears born from the realization of my judgments. I knew what I had chosen to do but not what it was doing to me.

CHAPTER FOUR

I had a meeting at 9:00 a.m. sharp Monday morning, and as I got in the office, my clients had arrived, and Samantha had prepared their portfolio for me. With nothing else to say as she handed me my things, I went on my way into the conference room.

Again, I wasn’t fazed, and I wasn’t hurt or angry with her; I just didn’t care.

Marcus joined me in the meeting and watched me carefully as I gave my projections and proposals for our latest undertaking. The multimillion dollar account would make up for some of the losses we had suffered throughout the year. Marcus made sure to impress up on me that this account was crucial to the company’s future, but I felt for the first time in my life that my ability to hold a room had changed. I no longer exuded self-confidence and sex appeal that once drew business men and women to anticipate my every syllable. Now I relied on plain words and black-and-white numbers alone. My insecurities poured out of me as I stumbled on my words and felt shaky with the information I gave the clients. And unfortunately in this arena, you don’t just sell the numbers and the business. You sell the person who is handling the business!

I pushed forward with whatever little I had left in me—but it wasn’t much.

Two hours later, after tedious and mind-numbing proposals, Marcus concluded our meeting. “Thank you all for your time today. We’ll meet again next week, and we will have the list of prospective angel investors for you.”

The clients left in single file, but Marcus remained seated and stiff. “Eva, stay a minute.” The tone of his voice and inability to look at me in the face told me that this wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation.

I sat beside Marcus, fumbling nervously with my pen, and waited for everyone to leave. And as the last person was out, the door closed us in.

“What the hell happened to you?” Marcus asked in sheer anger.

“Happened to me? I don’t understand. I thought the meeting went well,” I said, growing nervous as I responded with an inclination that he wasn’t referring to the meeting.

“Do I look stupid? What the hell has happened to you in the last two weeks? I’m not going to ask you again.” Marcus’s irritation with me shot through him, and the pencil he held snapped in half, jolting me in my seat. “You spend your days locked in your office. You come in late, leave early, and you look like you are starving yourself.”

“Marcus, what is this about? I’m sorry I don’t know what you mean.” And as I tried to stand, Marcus grabbed my wrist and turned my arm over, and I shook from the pain.

“What the fuck is on your arm? Who did—did Michael do this to you?” Marcus pushed up the sleeve of my blouse as I tried to pull away.

“Marcus, stop it. This is none of your business. And Michael didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t ask for. Now let me through,” I begged, insistent on keeping my shame within me. I tried to move past him as my eyes began to sting, but I couldn’t allow myself to cry again. I couldn’t land in the misery that I had suffered to get away from.

“You asked him to hurt you? What is happening to you? Why are you doing this? Eva, I can’t let him do this to you. You are not a helpless fucking victim. What’s gotten into—wait, are you doing this because of Alexander? Do you think that this will make you forget him, is that it? Wait, does Alexander know you are into this?” Marcus shouted, stepping closer to me, now turning his expression of anger into sheer pity.

“No, it has nothing to do with him, and don’t you dare tell him. I just…” And bracing myself against the table, I told Marcus what had happened. I told him that the void created by my determined loss of Alexander was fulfilled by the pain inflicted on me as I sacrificed my body for having been weak and cowardly. I explained that my only self-defense in life had been to maintain control over everything. Alexander had made me lose control, and I was scared to death. I had gone from heroine to victim in a moment’s time as I lived through my own romantic tragedy.

“I will fucking kill him if he comes near you again. Do you understand? Eva, I’m talking to you!” Marcus yelled.

But I was once again consumed by sadness and darkness. I wanted so desperately to be back in Alexander’s hold that I couldn’t breathe.

“Marcus, please let it go,” I begged.

“Eva, I want you to go home. I can’t have you here like this; you are not well.”

Marcus pitied me in the saddest of ways. I had allowed myself to be physically punished, and I had truly lost all control.

“Marcus, please don’t. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

But Marcus wasn’t buying into my bullshit.

“You are not fine. Now go and take the rest of the week off.” And with his dismissal from my only safe haven, Marcus turned to leave. “And I promise you, if you fucking go near him again, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

He slammed the door behind him, leaving me to fester with my regrets and fears, alone and lonely in my self-destructive bubble.

I left the office directly from the conference room, as I feared running into Samantha or Marcus again if had I tried to return to my office.

I walked the streets of Manhattan for hours trying to find an explanation for what I had become. But there was little I could come up with, little explanation to why the independent and intelligent woman I once was had completely lost control, lost hope, and lost herself. I felt pity for myself. I had fought against Alexander’s love so that I wouldn’t lose control, and now I had lost much more than that.

Two weeks had passed since my first experience of Michael’s sadomasochistic practices. It was also the last time I had seen, smelled, and been near Alexander. But he was near me every minute of every day. I dreamt of him in my sleep and I dreamt of him while awake. His nearness and the sensation of his scent and skin were harbored within me even though I had cast him away. Every time Michael lashed out at me, my thoughts screamed painful “I’m sorry”s into the world, and I prayed that something would carry them to Alexander.

Michael took pleasure in the nights we spent together. He thrived and enjoyed the infliction of pain on me. Had I not been the one being beaten, I would have taken pity on him and got him some help. But at this point, playing the role I was playing, I was the one who needed help. But who would help me? I had cast out everyone who loved me in my life as I fell deeper into this dark place of punishment and pain. My days were hollow, and the depths of my loneliness and sorrow grew deeper the more time I spent with Michael.

It was late afternoon when I found myself near Alexander’s apartment complex across from Central Park. I hadn’t intentionally walked there, but somehow my mind and body decided to subconsciously take me to where my heart belonged. I didn’t know how long he had been back from LA or if he was still here, but my body gravitated in his possible direction. And as I stood looking to the top of the building, I could see the edge of the penthouse wall, and that’s when I hit bottom. I felt lightheaded and so heart broken that I didn’t know what to do or where to go to stop all the gloom that surrounded me.

I took my cell phone from my purse and sent a text.

I need you to make me forget. Please!

And the response came seconds later:
Meet me at my apartment; I’ll make it go away. Michael.

I stood frozen, reading the text over and over again, praying that I hadn’t made another mistake. But it had become the only escape I could find in these, my darkest of days.

I sat in the parking lot of Michael’s apartment for a long period of time, breathing through the consequences of my choices, telling myself that if I could just get through it, if I could just forget for good, I could move on with my life.

When I finally got the nerve, I walked up to his floor and knocked on his door.

Michael opened the door within seconds. “What took you so long? I thought maybe you had reconsidered. Come in, I won’t bite…not unless you’re ready for that.” And again Michael had found amusement in his suggestions of inflicting pain.

I began to tremble as I recalled Marcus’s words from earlier:
If you go near him again, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.

“I need to use the restroom,” I said to Michael. I needed to get some air. I needed to splash some cold water on my face, as I had begun to sweat from fear of someone finding out that I had willingly come back here yet again.

The pain was my drug; the numbness was the enticement. The fear of what he would do to me and the pain from what he was going to do was better than what I had been feeling inside, and
that
made me forget everything.

But now that Marcus knew, there was no telling who he would share my indiscretion with or what lengths he would go to, to ensure it didn’t happen again. I could lose my job, the only friend I had left, and the reputation that I had spent my life building.

I felt nauseated as I looked at myself in the mirror; the girl in the reflection was not the girl I had known for thirty-two years. The black circles around her eyes yearned for rest. Her skin, pale and gray, craved some sunlight and happiness. No, this wasn’t me. This was hopelessness.

I have to get out of here; I have to go to—

But as I decided to leave, my thoughts were jerked silent by a thunderous crash of splintering wood.

I ran out of the bathroom and into the main room to find
Alexander and Marcus
standing over the threshold, past the busted door of Michael’s apartment.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Michael yelled, but his question was more or else answered as Alexander swung his arm and cracked Michael’s cheek with his fist.

“
ALEXANDER, NO!
” I yelled.

Strangely I wasn’t yelling for him to stop hurting Michael; I yelled because I feared that Alexander would kill him.

But Alexander didn’t stop; he viciously hit Michael over and over until Michael’s still body couldn’t defend itself.

Seeing that he had done his due diligence in beating the shit out of him, Alexander crouched over Michael’s head and snarled at him, “I suggest you move out of this city, because if I so much as hear your name in her presence, I will make sure that my hands are the reason your heart stops beating.”

Alexander stood and, in a wave of anger, moved toward me. “I told you to get away from him. Do you have any fucking idea what he could have done to you? You continue to bludgeon me with your behavior, and yet I am the one here now coming
for you
.” Alexander’s face was tight with anger. His dark gelled strands of hair were disheveled in a way I had never seen before, and his eyes were blood shot. His hands shook, his knuckles were covered in blood, and his shirt was ripped at the neck, displaying throbbing veins over his tightened pecks. The anger and adrenaline covered him in sweat, and I flinched as the vision of his desirable ferociousness in its entirety sunk into my senses.

I stilled—silent and affronted as Alexander picked up the faint remains of the woman I used to be and carried me out of the apartment.

When we reached the parking lot, I felt a rush of embarrassment and a need to defend being at Michael’s apartment. And so I wiggled myself out of Alexander’s arms and began my fight.

“What do you think you are doing? You have no right to be here!” I screamed at both of them, realizing Marcus must have told Alexander everything. “And you,” I said, pointing at Marcus, walking toward him wildly, “you promised you wouldn’t tell him. How could you?”

But two hands grabbed my elbows and pulled me back from him.

I turned, only to find Samantha—and not Alexander as I had expected.

“Eva, I called Alexander. I’ve experienced first hand what Michael practices and when I told Marcus—we feared for your safety, we didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry, but—”

I ripped myself away from her hold feeling utter betrayal and shame. Betrayed by my best and only friend and shameful that they all knew what I had subjected myself to.

I gasped as I brought Alexander into focus. He was here—in person, in the flesh—and he had just held me in his arms as I had so longed to be held.

My knees weakened and began to buckle, when my breath ceased to escape my lips as the overwhelming emotions sent me crashing to the blacktop.

CHAPTER FIVE

Alexander’s sultry hands massaged my thighs as I slept.

His fingers traveled up to my abdomen, motioning softly in circles around my belly button, tickling my skin. The warmth of his skin triggered a profound moan from deep within my chest. I had once longed for his sensual touch and pined for his physical nearness, but this was more than that; my attraction was illogical and irrational, but it was all encompassing. I would give up my soul to the Devil if knew that I would remain in his hold forever.