Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 (15 page)

Knowing that I was about to get on a private plane with him caused a flurry of butterflies to erupt in my stomach. Oh, the many flavors of anxiety.  Nothing like the oppressive feelings of the day before. This was the
kind of anxiety before a dance performance, when you’ve rehearsed your heart out, and you know it’s now or never. Or when you’re about to be led into a surprise party where you think there are people in that darkened room, you
hope
they’re there, but you don’t know. Good nervous,
excited
nervous.

Yesterday’s episode had been nothing more than a slip-up, I convinced myself. Simply a response to a stressful situation. I wouldn’t let it happen again; that Sabrina was gone.
Breathe in; breathe out
. I practiced my calming exercises for half an hour, tensing and relaxing each part of my body, remembering to fill my lungs with air slowly and deliberately.

When the hotel phone rang at 3:55, my heart lodged in my throat. “Ms. Clarke, Mr. Chambers is here for you,” the front desk manager said.

“I’ll be right down, thank you.”

I took one more long look in the mirror before sitting back on the bed to slip into a pair of stilettos I’d bought with Du Cheval. Even though I usually chose a comfortable flat instead of a heel, I loved how tall and confident I felt in the sexy black leather. Du Cheval had persuaded me to buy a peep toe, instead of the standard pump, and when I saw the effect with the outfit, I was glad I had listened to him. That man knew fashion. A flash of red caught my eye in the mirror as I left the room, turning to pull my suitcase through the door. The crimson soles flashed provocatively with each step, winking at whoever walked behind me.

Calvin leaned against a shiny white Mercedes limo in front of the hotel, gray blazer over a white button-up, no tie, looking as if he were straight off a movie set. His aviators mirrored the front of the hotel, and I could see myself approaching in the reflection. A warm smile spread across his face when he saw me, giving me hope that he looked forward to the trip as much as I did.

“Whoa—“a voice close by exclaimed, and for a moment, I thought it was a tactless but flattering compliment on the time I’d put into my appearance.  But the follow up comment dissolved my wishful thinking.

“The auction chick!”

Oh no.

The man approaching me could have been a carbon copy of the frat-boy hecklers from Vegas. Hell, it could have
been
one of them. 

“Ah, you must have me mistaken for someone else,” I said, but it hardly sounded convincing, with the quaver in my voice.

“No, no, it’s you!” he said with a satisfied chuckle. Arrogance all over. “How’d that auction work out? Man, you look incredible in person. You still on the market or did you back out? You should give me a discount, my birthday was a week ago.”

Tears welled up, I couldn’t help it. While I was comfortable with my arrangement with Calvin, something about being accosted like this in front of him was humiliating.

Whore. Prostitute. Disgusting.

“Please, leave me alone,” I said, taking a step back, holding my hand up.

The man grabbed my wrist. “I didn’t mean to upset you lady… I mean, you were
advertising,
after all…”

The snide tone when he said “advertising” set off a nerve.

“Don’t touch me!”
I hissed, yanking my hand away.
“Leave me alone!”

I saw enough through my tears to know he was still advancing on me… for a second. Then a black blur was between us, there was a scuffling sound and a thump. I turned to see him up against the wall.  In front of him, a calm and collected looking Calvin, straightening the cuff of his suit coat. 

“Ms. Clarke asked you to leave her alone,” he said. His voice wasn’t raised, but there was something smooth and dangerous about it all the same.

“Dude, do you know about her? That chick was selling her p—“

Apparently having Calvin’s face an inch from his own shut him up.

“I’m going to be a gentleman about this,” Calvin said, “because there’s a lady present. Unless you force me to act otherwise, of course. But there are two things you should know. First, I am not a ‘dude,’ nor am I your ‘bro,’ ‘buddy,’ or ‘pal.’ Second, I know very well who Ms. Clarke is, and I do not appreciate your attitude or your language in front of her.”

“Man, she’s a fucking hooker.”

Well, say what you will about his stupidity, he was brave.

One overhead right from Calvin later the guy was safely on the ground whimpering for his life.

Calvin crouched, and said, “Shall we continue?”

The boy—I couldn’t see him as anything else now, in the face of Calvin’s domination, sputtered something I couldn’t hear, but it wasn’t apologetic. He was up again. Not under his own power. Calvin had him by the throat.

“That was a yes, then,” he said, and the now-red-faced asshole shook his head violently.

“We
will
not leave this alone until you apologize and walk away,” Calvin said. “There will be no snickering, no swaggering, and no parting wise-cracks. Understand?”

A helpless nod in response.

But Calvin didn’t move.

His voice dropped a notch. “I’m not sure an apology will be enough, now that I think about it.” There was something beyond dangerous in his voice now.

He’s enjoying himself,
I thought suddenly. And while
I’d
been enjoying seeing this guy learn a lesson, I began to be afraid. Calvin wasn’t mussed, or breathing heavy, he wasn’t in a
rage,
he was just… enjoying himself. Although I didn’t feel like he’d hurt me… it was scary to watch.

His hand tightened, and the wheezing breaths the boy had been taking stopped entirely. His eyes were wild with fear.

“Have you learned to leave women alone when they tell you to?” Calvin asked, checking his watch. The boy tried to nod, gurgled.

Calvin sighed. “It’s unfortunate, but I have a schedule to keep. I suppose I’ll have to take you at your word.  Then again, as the boss, I have some leeway…” He didn’t release his grip
until tears started to well up in the poor guy’s eyes.
Christ, he’s strong,
I thought. .

Calvin chuckled. “Well,” he said. “That will do for an apology.”
He dropped his hand and the guy hit the sidewalk and curled into a ball, gasping.

Calvin took a step back, pulled some hand sanitizer and a handkerchief from his inside pocket and cleaned his hands. He turned toward me and ushered me toward the limo.  I was speechless. 

“Sorry about all this,” he said once we were settled inside.  I wasn’t sure what to say.  The man had upset me, but maybe seeing Calvin that way had as well… I didn’t know. I’d never seen
anyone
take control of another human being like that. Like the jerk was an animal, not even human.

Calvin rubbed my arm. “Did I scare you?” he asked, concerned.
Mind reader,
I thought.

“A little,” I admitted.

He turned me toward him.  “Sabrina, I don’t tolerate aggression towards ones I care about,” he said.  His dark blue eyes were serious. “I’m aware that some people may find my response… excessive. However,” he continued, “I’ve learned through hard experience that people who behave like that
will not stop
unless they
are
stopped.” He paused.

“So you care about me?” I asked him.

“Well, it is just a business arrangement, we both know that. But I did it so I guess I do.“

“
Thank you. What worries me though is that you… enjoyed it.” I said.

The corner of his mouth quirked. “
I guess I did Sabrina, I guess I did.”

There was just a hint of sadness in his face when he said it.
He’s not a monster,
I told myself. Denial or truth? I didn’t know. What I did know was that suddenly, I didn’t care.  So powerful, so vulnerable; Calvin was both. With his arm around me, drowning in his cologne, weak-kneed from the confrontation, I suddenly felt light-headed. I leaned into him, and my mind flashed back to him taking control of me the night of my tantrum.  Something like fear and something like excitement thrummed through me. My breath came faster. I put my hand on his chest to steady myself, and he took it in his own and kissed my fingertips gently.

Soothingly.

“Are you ready for Chicago?” he asked, gently changing the subject. “I’m looking forward to you seeing it.” I nodded. “Do you go there a lot?” I asked.

“Not as much anymore, but when I was a kid,
my aunt used to take me every year for my birthday. We’d watch the Cubs play at Wrigley Field and eat pizza until we were sick. She loved to gamble, always putting big bucks on the game. Sometimes, we celebrated wins, but we weren’t always lucky.
There’s always next year
, she said when we lost. I think she liked betting almost as much as she liked winning.”

“She sounds feisty,” I
said, smiling at the image of his aunt waving a wad of cash around, arguing with her bookie.

“Very.” Calvin’s eyes softened at the memory.

A short ride later, we pulled into a private parking lot, a private plane waiting for us. I’m not talking about a rickety two-seater, but a luxury jet, complete with a uniformed pilot standing at the bottom of the stairs to greet us.
Whoa!

I stood blinking stupidly as the balmy night winds tousled my hair about my cheeks. Next to me, Calvin tried to yell an explanation over the bellowing turbines, but I heard none of it. I was just overwhelmed. 
Everything about this man is overwhelming,
I thought, dazed. 

“—twin CH700-2D engines, which give her a higher thrust. It’s modified for an increased fuel capacity and reduced fuel consumption, so you could say she’s got more
stamina
than the rest of her class,” he said, grinning. I couldn’t help smiling back; never had a man talking about his toys seemed so impressive. Then, most men didn’t have airplanes for toys.

“But the best bit is up here,” he said, taking me by the hand and leading me toward the front of the plane. I hadn’t been in a cockpit since I was a little girl, when a friend’s father had shown off the cockpit of his Cessna. I’d been impressed then, but that was nothing compared to now. He sat me in the copilot’s seat and explained some buttons on the console and about some special features he had, thanks to a friend in the Coast Guard. Most of it flew over my head—something about Doppler radars and imaging—but that was half the fun.

As I listened, I watched him.  His eyes wandered over my body as he spoke. He punctuated his sentences with light touches, guiding my hands to certain buttons and dials, turning me to look at something else, moving me with the palm of his hand in the small of my back.  His hungry look sent a shiver up my spine, though I did my best to ignore it and pay attention. Eventually, the pilot escorted us to our cabin and prepped for takeoff. I could feel Calvin’s eyes on me as I walked in front of him, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t push a bit of extra sway in my hips to show off on the way in.

Though the cabin wasn’t huge, it was still an odd thing to see. I’d never been on a private jet before, and the open space, the emptiness of it all, was foreign to me. There was a table by the windows, a pair of couches, and seats that actually threatened to be comfortable. He sat me on a couch and sauntered to a bar, a literal bar, where he scooped a pair of wineglasses and poured us drinks. When he handed me the dark red wine and motioned toward the facing seats, I couldn’t help feeling nervous. If only there had been something between us—a small table or a footrest even—I might have felt somewhat sheltered. I could feel no such thing there as he drew his gaze over my breasts, past my hips, and down my leg. I averted my eyes, but it didn’t help. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

I blushed. I knew what I wanted to say to him; I wanted to drop to my knees and beg him to fuck me if he found me so good-looking, but I didn’t. That wasn’t what he wanted, and really, I didn’t want it,
either. I’ve always been nervous about my first sexual experience, but somehow with Calvin it was doubly intimidating.

I suddenly felt very self-conscious of how I looked, how I was posed. Before it had been fun, cute even. Now, I worried. Was I slouching? I hadn’t checked my make up since the encounter with the jerk on the sidewalk… had my tears given me raccoon eyes?

“You’ve got nice legs,” he noted idly. I kept blushing.
God, Sabrina.

“Side effect of dancing,” I said. It seemed a stupid thing to say, but I realized I probably would have felt stupid saying anything now. I thought I knew what he wanted, and I definitely knew what I wanted. If I said it, though, if I asked and he said no, or if he lost interest or thought I was too eager, I’d have to endure feeling like an idiot for the entire plane ride.

“And hands,” he continued.

“All the b
etter to touch you with,” I said.
Where did THAT come from, Sabs?
I thought in a panic. A But Calvin’s face broke into a boyish grin and my anxiety evaporated.  Making him smile, really smile, made saying something goofy totally irrelevant.