Until I Break (6 page)

“My father is out west.”

“Oh. So you’re not from around here?”

“No.”

“But you work here now, right?”

“I have an office here, yes.”

“What kind of office?”

“Consulting.”

He doesn’t hesitate to give me the answer, so
I don’t doubt that it’s true. But it only serves to spawn more
questions.

Consulting? What kind of consulting? It must
be something in the medical field for him to be at a function like
this. That or he’s some kind of rich big-wig donator. That’s not
entirely out of the question considering that he has a tailor-made
tuxedo on hand and he drives a Range Rover.

The questions keep coming, but at least they
stay inside my head. I get the feeling by the firm set of his mouth
that he isn’t enjoying my interrogation nearly as much as I am.

“What k—”

Alec comes to a sudden stop and turns toward
me.

“This really isn’t necessary, you know.”

“What isn’t necessary?”

“Knowing every detail of each other’s life. I
already know everything I need to know about you for what I have in
mind. I don’t want you to be confused about what’s going to happen
between us.” I’m disappointed that he doesn’t want to know me and
doesn’t want me to know him, but I don’t have time to consider it
before he takes a step toward me. “The things I’m going to do to
you, the things I’m going to show you have nothing to do with your
job or your family or where you spend your time. It’s just about
you. And me. And all the pleasure we can give each other.”

There’s fire in his eyes. And fire in my
belly. There’s no denying that he kindles a reaction in me.

In addition to the excitement he makes me
feel, however, there’s dread and unease. Anxiety. Yes, I feel a
nervousness about stepping into the unknown, but I also feel an
old, familiar fear clawing its way up, the fear that this will end
just like all the others—badly.

But it’s not too late. I can stop it. I can
spare myself the pain and humiliation, the devastation of my
reality. All I have to do is walk away from this man, from what I
see in his eyes.

It sounds so simple. And it might be. If he
were anybody but Mason.
My Mason,
come to life. Whether it’s
the right decision or the healthy decision for me remains to be
seen. Maybe this could be a breakthrough. Maybe this could be a
setback. I have no way of knowing.

Maybe that’s a question for someone who’s
paid to see things objectively.

For the first time since Chris badgered me
into therapy, I’m seeing a possible use for the advice of a
professional.

“I’m not trying to scare you away. I just
want you going into this with the right mindset. I’ll do everything
in my power to make sure you don’t regret it,” he says earnestly as
he reaches up to take a curl from my shoulder. He brings it to his
nose and inhales before he lays it against my chest, the backs of
his fingers barely brushing the curve of my breast. Chills shoot
down my arm and my nipple puckers, a silent vote on behalf of my
body. “And trust me when I say, I’m a very determined man.”

I’d all but forgotten the rest of the room
when a familiar voice calls my name from somewhere over my left
shoulder. I turn toward the woman I consider to be my
real
mother.

Her smile is quick and bright inside her
mocha face, and her dark brown eyes are wide with delight.
“Samantha! I knew you’d make it.” I see her eyes dart to Alec
before she kisses my cheeks and hugs me to her. She whispers in my
ear, “I’m so glad you’re not alone, baby girl.” When she leans
back, she winks at me and then turns her attention to Alec. “Who is
your friend?”

“Mom, this is Alec Brand. Alec, this is my
mother, Deandra Johnson.”

“Ma’am, it’s a pleasure,” Alec says with a
nod, his smile warm and polite.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Mom says. Her
thick Southern accent is evident in the dropped R, making the word
sound like
pleashuh
, and the fact that each word is drawn
out to twice its normal length.

“Sammy,” Dad says as he steps up behind my
foster mother, interrupting the conversation. “There’s my
girl.”

He reaches around to envelope me in his arms,
arms that seem to shrink each time I see him. I feel a pang in the
vicinity of my heart. It’s so hard to watch age claim him.

“Dad, I’d like you to meet Alec Brand,” I say
when he releases me. “Alec, this is my father, Andre Johnson.”

Alec extends his hand. “It’s a pleasure to
meet you both,” Alec says, shaking my father’s hand and nodding at
my mother. “I’m familiar with your work, sir. Your reputation
precedes you.”

I watch as the two men quietly size up each
other. I’m not surprised to find that Alec is impressed by my
father; most people are. What
does
surprise me is his
comfort level with it. I’m beginning to think Alec is never
intimidated, that he’s accustomed to doing all the intimidating
himself.

Along that vein, what surprises me
most
is the look of respect and approval that comes over
Dad’s aging, dark brown face. While he’s an extremely kind man and
always polite, I haven’t often seen him genuinely impressed. Yet it
seems in two minutes, Alec has managed it. It only makes him that
much more appealing, and he’s already dangerously fascinating to
me.

“What is it that you do, Mr. Brand?” Dad asks
curiously. It seems that Alec can sink his claws into practically
anyone with ease.

“I have a consulting firm in Atlanta with one
office here in Charleston. We work with hospitals across Georgia,
as well as North and South Carolina.”

Dad nods in approval. “What is it that—”

The lights dim, cutting off his question. A
spotlight accompanies the squeal of a microphone and everyone turns
toward the podium set at the front of the room.

“How many of you would like to hear from our
guest of honor?” the guy with the microphone says. Although I’ve
seen him at one or two of these events, I can’t remember his name.
He’s just that kind of guy—bland and completely forgettable.

“You’ll have to excuse me. It was nice
meeting you, Mr. Brand,” Dad says. They shake hands again and Dad
nods at Mom and she follows him to the front of the room. He always
mentions her in some way in his speeches, so he likes her to be
nearby to receive her due credit.

I turn to face the stage, watching my parents
as they assume their positions. Although my attention appears
focused on them, it’s almost entirely concentrated on Alec, like it
has been all night. It’s as though there’s an invisible string
that’s stretched between us, and every time he moves or even
shifts, I can feel a tug on that string.

I’m hyper aware of Alec moving to stand at my
side. His right shoulder is behind my left, close enough that I can
feel the material of his tux brush my skin. He brings his hand to
the small of my back.

I pretend to listen to my father, when in
reality, all I can think of is Alec’s hand tracing the edge of my
dress along my waistline.

He stops, as if sensing my train of thought.
I exhale the breath I hadn’t been aware of holding.

He reaches up and tucks my hair behind my
ear. His fingers graze my neck and shoulder as he drags his hand
away. Chills spread across my chest and back.

“I don’t think I told you how beautiful you
look tonight,” he says softly into my ear. “But I meant to.” I say
nothing. He brushes the backs of his fingers down my upper arm. I
stand perfectly still, afraid to move. “Your skin looks like
peaches and cream, and I’d be willing to bet it tastes just as
sweet.”

Heat pours through me at his words. He is
seducing me. A veritable stranger, with words alone, is seducing
me. And I want him to. I know I should object. I should feel
morally outraged, maybe even gravely insulted. But I don’t. I feel
only desire and anticipation, and an inexplicable force drawing me
to him.

I turn to Alec. He stares down at me, his
eyes searching mine.

Heat flares between us. Ambient noise is lost
behind the loud thud of my heart. My skin feels flushed and dewy.
My legs feel heavy and weak.

In this moment, again, I’m Daire Kirby. I
feel her struggle as if it were my own. Because it is.

I feel her compelling desire to explore
what’s between her and Mason. I feel her fear of what might happen
if he discovers the
real
Daire. I feel her desperation to
know him, to risk it even though it might destroy her. And more
than ever, I understand how she can be so lost to everything except
Mason, how she can ignore common sense and warning flags for just
one more minute in his presence.

Alec is so close, I can feel the warmth of
his chest, radiating toward my breasts like the heat of the sun.
His lips are firm, his jaw is set, and, in the dark of the room,
his eyes are sparkling chips of onyx.

Of all the things I hope and suspect, dread
and anticipate, there’s one thing I know for sure as I stand
looking up into the eyes of this man.

I’m in trouble.

Serious trouble.

CHAPTER TEN- Alec

Later, as I stand at Samantha’s side waiting
for the valet, I try to push back old, familiar urges in favor of
common sense. And common decency.

Samantha Jansen is a nice girl, which is part
of the appeal, of course. But meeting her family, seeing where she
comes from, is making my conflict even worse. Already, I feel like
a monster.

Like the monster that I am when I’m like
this.

It’s obvious that her parents aren’t
biological. Her sister either. Which means something must’ve
happened to her real parents. This girl has some kind of broken
history. The last thing she needs in her life is a man like me. I
can give her the time of her life, sure. Even if she’s not open to
it, I can show her why she needs to be.

But then what? I know the drill. I know what
happens. I’ll lose interest and move on. That’s why I make no bones
about any kind of a future when I start one of these…relationships.
Regardless of warnings, though, I know what kind of devastation I
leave behind. That’s part of why I stopped doing this, why I
learned to control it.

Until now. After all this time, Samantha is
making me backtrack.

Maybe you should stop worrying about other
people and let them take care of themselves. Samantha is an adult.
She can make her own choices. Maybe she doesn’t need saving from
you. Maybe she needs you to show her some fun.

Although I know that voice is selfish and
single-minded, it’s as tempting as ever to listen to it, to block
out my nicer side’s commentary. But that’s how it always starts. I
let the beast off the chain for just a little while and then,
suddenly, I wake up months or years later, out of control,
surrounded by devastation.

And now I’ve got more to lose. I’ve finally
got my life together, and this is not part of the plan.

Just one more time won’t hurt.

I press on the accelerator, refusing to
glance at the female occupying the passenger seat.

But as I speed through the yellow light, only
one of the two voices remains. And my zipper feels tight just
thinking about what’s ahead.

CHAPTER ELEVEN- Samantha

The walk from the Range Rover to my door is
the longest and tensest of my entire life. My insides are coiled
like a tight spring. I am more nervous than I’ve ever been, but
more than that, my blood is swimming with excitement.

Since those few intense moments at the
fundraiser, Alec has said very little. He has been polite to
everyone, handling the conversation with a deftness that suggests
he’s used to being around people with money and influence. It
reaffirms my suspicions about him.

Despite the crowd and the impersonal venue,
nothing has been able to erase the chemistry between us. Time and
nonchalance have only given me ample opportunity to anticipate the
close of the night that much more.

He doesn’t utter a single word, right up
until I unlock my door and turn to him, asking, “Would you like to
come in?”

“Just for a minute. I need to get going.”

His answer surprises and disappoints me.
Maybe I was expecting him not to be able to keep his hands off me.
Maybe I was hoping that would be the case, even though anything
happening tonight would be both a mistake and a wildly
inappropriate choice on my part. But the rational part of me is
relieved. I dread the inevitable outcome, and maybe it’s better to
take things slow. Maybe I can stop this runaway train before it
becomes a train wreck instead.

If only I wanted to. Wholeheartedly. But I
don’t. The dread and the reality of my situation aren’t quite
enough to overwhelm my attraction to him, my attraction to the
Mason in him. It’s such a bizarre sensation, I feel a bit helpless
to fight it. Even though I know I’m crazy for considering ever
seeing this man again.

The sweet smell of lilies and roses from
Chris’s flower arrangement greets me when I push open the door.
They’ve never smelled more seductive.

The sun has set, necessitating that I turn on
the lamp that sits on the table nearest the door. It hardly dents
the darkness, casting only a small circle of soft light on the
floor. I lay my clutch and my keys on the table and turn to Alec.
He shuts the door behind him, but doesn’t move.

“Would you like something to drink?”

Ohmigod, this is like cheesy porn gone
wrong.
All I’m missing is the bow-chicka-wow-wow
music.

As they were during Dad’s speech, Alec’s eyes
are darker in the dim light. They flash with something primal that
sends a sliver of trepidation slithering down my spine. It’s a bit
like facing a lion, or any other animal I have no hope of surviving
an encounter with. “No, thank you. I’m not really…thirsty.” The
pause, the inflection he uses leaves me breathless. Wanting.