Written By Fate (4 page)

“Ice cream time!” Allie shouts over the throng of the crowd
exiting the auditorium.

“Sundaes or cones?” Sawyer chuckles at her.

“Sundaes. Duh,” she chides. “Johnny’s working tonight,
right?” It’s Friday night and our good friend Johnny, who aspires to be a
rockabilly punk, works at the ice cream parlor.

“He is,” I answer her. Allie has a major crush on him.
Sawyer grabs my hand, lacing his fingers through mine and does the same with
Allie as we make our way for ice cream. We’re seated quickly and as soon as
Johnny sees us he scrambles over to our table to chat for a minute.

“How’s my favorite girl?” he asks and ruffles Allie’s hair.

“I’m good,” I interject and get an eye roll from Allie and a
full on laugh from Sawyer.

“What are you guys having tonight?” Johnny asks, unfazed.

“Banana split,” Allie orders.

“Care to make things interesting?” Johnny asks with mischief
in his eyes.

“Uh, I think your pants have already done that,” I say in a deadpan
tone as Allie gasps in embarrassment. Johnny is known for his crazy get-ups and
today is no disappointment. He’s wearing navy blue trousers with pink whales
embroidered on them. Sawyer turns his head and tries to stifle his laugh but
it’s a useless cause.

“Witty little sprite, aren't you,” Johnny chuckles before
taking the rest of our orders and disappearing behind the ice cream counter.

“Seriously, Mom. What .Is. Wrong. With. You?” Allie quips.

“What? I was funny.” I shrug.

“Sawyer, make her stop,” she whines for help.

“Alliecat, you know there is absolutely nothing anyone can
do to stifle your mother, me included,” he laughs. Allie pouts and refuses to
make eye contact with me for the duration of our ice cream trip. Girls: so
fickle.

I throw my feet up on the couch as soon as Allie’s asleep
and toss my head back. “Long day, Mama. You did good,” Sawyer says, rubbing my
legs.

“Allie sounded great didn't she? I mean the rest of the kids
were stellar but she really has a gift.”

“You’re not biased or anything right?” he snickers.

“As if. If my kid sucked at singing I wouldn't encourage her
to keep at it. No one wants bloody ear drums,” I giggle.

“True. If anyone were going to be honest about their child
it would be you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I bark. He lets out a sigh
and shakes his head.

“Not everything I say to you is an affront, Clara. I just
meant you’re honest to a fault.” His irritation is barely contained. What’s
going on?

“Okay,” I reply, not wanting to take this any further.

“Sorry. I’m just tired,” he apologizes, although for what
I’m not really sure.

“No worries, muffin. I’m beat. I think I’m gonna head
upstairs.” I stand and toss my hair over my shoulder.

“Night, Mama,” Sawyer mumbles.

“Night.”

Stumbling to find my footing I miss the next step and
tumble. His hate-filled eyes stare into mine, watching me hit the stairs. My
body bends unnaturally as I hit each stair. Pain shoots through me and I can’t
seem to do anything but cover my head. A sharp crack and searing pain blow
through my arm before I crumple at the bottom in a pile of skin, bones, and
sobs. Oh my god. The baby
.

I dart up, a strangled cry ripping from my throat as Sawyer
bursts through the door. Flipping the light on, holding a bat in nothing but
his boxers, he’s quite the sight. His abdominals flex with every ragged breath
he takes and there’s a light sheen of sweat coating his body.

“What the hell, Clara?” he booms and suddenly I’m very turned
on.

“Shhh. You’ll wake Allie,” I whisper-shout. He takes a deep
breath and rests the bat against the wall. “I thought someone was killing you.
You never scream like that.” He shudders at the thought. I feel bad for
worrying him.

“Sorry. Bad dream,” I admit sheepishly as he turns off the
light and prowls to the bed looking very appetizing.

“What’s up with all these dreams again? It hasn't been this
bad since we first met,” he says, wrapping himself around me like a blanket.

“I don't know,” I sigh, but I do know. It’s because of Dom.
Because of what he represents, his status, everything I’ve worked so hard to
escape from.

“Is it the same dream?” he asks softly, toying with a strand
of my hair.

“Mmmhhmmm,” I murmur and plant a kiss at the hollow of his
throat. His sharp intake of breath is all the invitation I need. I nip and lick
my way from his throat to his chest and abs, working each muscle, nipple, and
ridge with my mouth. His muscles twitch under me and his breath is ragged. I
love it. Moving further south I tongue his happy trail to the elastic band of
his boxers.

“What are you doing, Clara?” His voice is rough and gravelly
with need. “Shh,” I instruct as I hook his boxers with my thumbs and yank them
off him. He fists my hair, dragging me up his body and I can’t help but kiss
him. Crushing my mouth to his I frantically kiss him with every emotion I have.
His hands slide up under his tee shirt I’m wearing and with a quick lift it’s
over my head and tossed to the floor. My panties land next to the tee shirt.
His rough hands send electric shocks through me as he palms my breasts and I
can’t take it anymore. I need him in me. I position myself over him but before
I can sink my weight down he flips us over and grunts, “No.”

Stunned, I stop moving and stare down at him. “No?” I ask
hesitantly. His eyes get stormy as he admires my body beneath him. He dips his
head to my neck and lets his lips and tongue work over every inch of my body
until I’m trembling and on the brink. Kissing both my inner thighs I realize the
treat I’m about to receive. We don’t partake in oral often but when we do,
watch out world. Sawyer is an expert and for some reason tonight he wants to
give. His tongue-lashing at my core sends me over the edge entirely too fast
and I crash into my orgasm as I come undone at his mouth. I’m squirming and
bucking with pleasure and the groans Sawyer emits as he lavishes my clit with
attention make me spasm even harder. When the shaking in my legs subsides he
moves up my body, watching me like a lion about to pounce. I love it when he
looks at me like that. He hooks my legs over his shoulders and enters without
hesitation, splitting and filling me entirely. My eyes snap closed as he
thrusts into me, hitting that illustrious g-spot. “Look at me,” he growls. His
voice is so domineering I instantly do as I’m told.

This is a far cry from the love-making he usually doles out.
His pace picks up as he gazes at me. It’s intense and erotic. His eyes give him
away as they cloud over just before he comes. His feral cry sends me over the
edge again and we fall apart together, tangled and sweaty. “Holy shit,” I
breathe.

“What was that?” he rasps.

I shrug. “I don't know but I’m glad it happened,” I sigh
contentedly.

“God, Clara. You’re going to be the death of me,” he exhales
and looks at me. His blue eyes are so intense.

“You could always say no,” I remind him lightly.

“As if, Mama. We both know I’ll never say no,” he whispers
and kisses my temple. My heart cracks just a little at his statement. I want
him to be happy. I really do but this is just so...easy.

“Love you, muffin,” I murmur.

“Ditto,” he gulps before disengaging from me and pulling me
into our normal spoon. It takes forever but his breathing eventually goes
shallow and steady. I need to tread lightly because I can’t imagine losing
this. I can’t afford to lose this. I follow him into a deep slumber free of
dreams and nightmares.

Marking Territory

My phone chirps in my hand alerting me that I have a new
text message.

Amanda: How are things?

Great. You?

Amanda: SSDD

I hear ya

Amanda: Any word from Napoli

No. Why?

Amanda: Rumor has it he’s mentioned your name

Fuck off

Amanda: Totally serious

Shit

Amanda: Shit?

Yeah. Shit. Manda you know it can't happen

Amanda: ...you sure

You know it
.

Amanda: I’ll see if I can't pass the message along

You talk?

Amanda: No. I have contact info from the art.

Oh. Right. K. Love ya, Gotta jet.

“Who was that?” Sawyer asks.

“Kylieee,” I snicker.

“Tell her I say ‘hi,’” he shakes his head and laughs.

“Amanda,” I admit.

“Well tell her I say ‘hi’ too,” he retorts.

“Sure thing, stud,” I chuckle.

At four we’ve both finished our appointments for the day and
set about cleaning up the shop and our stations in preparation for the hustle
and bustle of tomorrow’s appointments.

“What’re we doin’ for dinner tonight?” I call over my
shoulder to Sawyer.

“I’m meeting Kylie,” he says nervously. I grumble with good-natured
jealousy under my breath instead of answering him. Ever since the night we had
amazing sex he’s been weird and to top it all off the next day he was “on again”
with Kylie. Coincidence, I think not. He’s trying to compartmentalize our
relationship which is no easy feat I’ll admit, but when he does this it makes
me want to strangle him. I hate feeling like I’m being shut out and pushed away.
It’s my own fault but I still hate the way it makes my stomach hurt.

“But it’s my last night home before camp!” Allie whines, and
I snicker at the surprise guilt trip he’s getting.

“Sorry, Alliecat. I’m sure you and your mom will have a nice
dinner though.” The pained look on his face snaps me out of my pity party. He
hates disappointing Allie so sticking to his guns is kind of a big deal right
now. I go back to cleaning up my station, feeling rotten about myself and the
hoops Sawyer constantly jumps through for me.

“Sorry, mister, we’re appointment only today,” Allie blows
out sternly. From the corner of my eye I see Sawyer watching her cautiously
which sets me on edge.

“I’ll make an appointment then,” a deep voice booms and a
chill rips through me. I snap my eyes to the direction of the voice but can’t
see the front desk from here. Sawyer struts to Allie’s side before I have a
chance to make my feet move.

“We’re closed. Come back tomorrow if you want to make an
appointment,” Sawyer rumbles. His voice has a hard edge to it that doesn’t come
out often.

“I’m looking for Clara Lord,” the smooth deep voice replies
and my heart starts beating furiously in my chest. It’s Dominic. Forcing my
feet to move, I step around the corner and join Allie and Sawyer.

“Can I help you?” I ask, totally pretending to be
unaffected. Dominic’s gaze reduces me to puddle as his eyes sweep from my feet
up to my face. My tongue darts out wetting my bottom lip and Dominic’s eyes drop
to my mouth to follow the movement. He looks like he’s ready to attack me and
by attack I mean maul me in very delicious and sinful ways. Sawyer bristles
next to me. The tension is so palpable I can feel it on my skin.

“Clara. How nice to see you.” His greeting exudes charm and
class.

“Allie, go help Sawyer clean up so we can get out of here,”
I urge, shooting a look at them both. Neither one of them moves for a moment
and I smack Allie’s rear to get her moving. She tugs on Sawyer’s hand to try
and get him to fall in line but he waves her off and stands at my side.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Napoli?” My voice sounds tense
even to me and almost instantaneously Sawyer slings his arm over my shoulder in
a show of possession. I want to body check him for the testosterone show.
Dominic eyes him shrewdly and it makes my heart beat even more wildly. How does
he do this to me and what the hell does he want?

“Come now, Clara, Mr. Napoli? We’re more acquainted than
that. Please call me Dominic.”

Sawyer’s arm squeezes a little tighter, folding me into him,
and I wrinkle my nose in frustration at the contact. This is turning into a
pissing match. I wonder who would win? Sawyer is probably more adept at street
fighting but Dominic certainly doesn't look like he ever loses when he sets his
mind to something and he looks hungry...for me.

“Whatever, Dom. Why are you here?” I shrug out of Sawyer’s
hold, letting him know in no uncertain terms that I can handle myself.

“I’d like to make an appointment with you,” he says, grinning.

“Like Sawyer said, we’re closed. Come back tomorrow and make
one then,” I state. Dominic’s eyes flash something I can’t quite make out
before he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow
then,” he concedes, smirks at Sawyer, which makes my blood boil, and turns on
the heel of his expensive loafer, exiting the shop. What is going on? Sawyer
follows him and locks the door behind him before laying into me.

“What the hell was that Clara?” he barks.

“I don't know. I’m just as surprised as you but I didn't
feel the need to pee all over myself to mark my territory,” I shout, infuriated
by his behavior.

“Piss all over you? Is that what I did?” he volleys back.

“Watch yourself, Sawyer Crown,” I bust out the “mom” voice
on him.

“Clara Lord, if you even try to mom me I'll kick your ass. Now
spill it: what the fuck was that about?” he growls at me. I can’t decide if I
want to punch him or molest him when his voice sounds like that. He’s
so...masculine right now. I shake my head slightly, trying to clear my
thoughts.

“I don't know...” I say more softly. He'd better believe me
because I really have no clue why the hell Dominic Napoli showed up at our shop
and it’s a little frightening.

“How does he know where you work?” The harshness in his tone
from earlier is dissipating.

“Honestly, Sawyer, I’m as shocked as you are. I never even
told him what I do for a living let alone where I live, for all he knew I lived
in Boston. We didn’t exactly converse,” I crow, throwing my hands up.

“I don't like this at all. He gives me the creeps,” he
complains and shudders.

“Yeah, I know. Try waking up in his house,” I say under my
breath.

Sawyer rushes to me and pulls me to his chest. “I think
maybe I should stay home with you and Allie tonight just in case.” I let my
body mold to his and nod my head in agreement. What the hell was Dominic Napoli
doing in Blacksburg, Virginia? This is not good.

“Mom,” Allie peeps. She gets really upset when Sawyer and I
bicker. I remind myself that it’s okay for her to see us bicker as long as she
sees us make up, too--that showing her what a normal relationship looks like is
good for her. I didn’t have that kind of stability growing up. My mother was a
whore who was happily uninvolved in my life until I had something to offer her.

“It’s fine, Allie, come here,” Sawyer says and offers out an
arm and she sneaks in between us for a three-person hug.

“Who was that guy?” she asks curiously.

“No one,” I answer, with a strange twinge of guilt. Well,
he’s no one to me, anyways, I try to convince myself, but there is something
there. I just don't know what the hell it is. The rest of the evening is pretty
tense. Sawyer doesn't really say much through dinner and even Allie is
unusually quiet. I plop on the couch after getting Allie to bed and nuzzle into
Sawyer but he stiffens and scooches away just slightly, putting me on high
alert.

“What was that?” I ask cautiously.

“Huh? What?” he feigns naivety.

“If you don't want to snuggle just say so, you don’t have to
grow a vag on me and act like a bitch,” I huff and scoot to the other end of
the couch. Now who’s the vagina? He sighs loudly and pinches the bridge of his
nose, clearly brooding about something.

“I’m a little thrown. You say you hate this guy. Don’t talk
about him at all after getting back initially...then he shows up and you look
at him like you’re about to jump him but talk him like you want to strangle him,”
he rambles. Damn, he hit the nail on the head.

“That about sums it up,” I retort.

“Huh?”

“Your summary was accurate. I have no more information to
tell than what you just said.” I cross my arms over my chest, slightly irked.

“You want to jump him?” he asks, astonished. What is the big
deal? We’ve both dated over the years and although he doesn't particularly
approve of anyone, he’s never let it affect our relationship when we’re alone
together. I know he wants more but he knows I don’t have more to give. That
because of my limited experience with relationships gone wrong and because of
my home life growing up I’m just not willing to commit. He has so much to offer
and I…well, I just have myself and Allie--and somehow that doesn’t seem like a
fair trade.

“What if I did, Sawyer? Why is that so shocking?” I ask
tersely. He narrows his eyes at me and glares.

“I guess it’s not. I just thought you knew better than
that,” he throws in my face.

“Knew better than what?” I clip. “Do tell.” He’s right and
I’m really being bitchy. He sighs and drags a hand down his face.

“Clara, you can screw whomever you like, okay? I know that.
I get a bad vibe from him. He looks at you like he wants to own you, not like
he wants to love you. He comes from money, and we both know what kind of
lifestyle that is,” he says and shoots me a knowing look which temporarily
irritates me even more. I don’t need reminding. I lived it. He did not.

“I know. That’s why I hate him and his pompous attitude. The
attraction’s just... physical. I have no idea what the hell he’s doing here but
tomorrow if he comes in I’ll find out, all right?” I gripe. Sawyer’s leg
stretches out and rests across my lap and I know that’s as much of a concession
as I’ll get from him tonight so I let everything go and attempt to enjoy what’s
left of our evening.

Curling up in bed, I decide to text Amanda and find out what
she knows. I burrow under my covers, grab my phone, and start typing.

Did you talk to Napoli today?

Amanda: Emailed him that you weren’t interested and to stop
bringing your name up

What’d he say?

Amanda: That he really needed to know more about you...I
tried to turn him off.

By saying what... I have genital warts?

Amanda: Ha! No, that might have worked better. I told him
you’re a tattoo artist

Fuck

Amanda: What?

He showed up today at the shop.

Amanda: WHAT?!

Yup. tried to make an appt. told him to come back
tomorrow 'cause we we’re closed.

Amanda: Think he’ll show up?

Undoubtedly.

Amanda: Shit, sorry.

Not your fault.

Amanda: Still how’d he know where?

My guess, if you Google Clara Lord my Inked magazine art
shows up- has the shop’s location.

Amanda: Damn- that's right.

Gotta go... early morning.

Amanda: Keep me posted.

Will do. xoxo

Well that explains a lot, like how he keeps finding me. I
whip open my laptop and pull up the article Amanda wrote so I can read his bio.
It’s a little daunting knowing that he emailed with Amanda this morning, and by
four in the afternoon had found me and made it to Virginia. I mean who does
that? I open the attachment and start reading.

“Dominic Napoli, 35

Devilishly good looking and impeccably dressed, Napoli is
owner of Hurricane in Boston and Deux in Miami and L.A. and host to some of
Hollywood's hottest. He spends most of his time at Deux, arriving as early as
10 a.m. and staying until the place closes. Although he caters to the stars,
Napoli is a friendly, normal, down-to-earth guy, who just happens to have three
motorcycles and a house in the Hollywood Hills, as well as the penthouse suite
at Morte Hotel in Boston. He owns the Morte chain of hotels and has been
credited with taking a hotel chain that was losing $40 million a year and,
within five years, turning it into a $100 million-a-year-plus hospitality
business. And he did it while taking strokes off his golf game. But ladies,
thus far Mr. Napoli hasn’t been lucky in love. He’s still on the market and
looking for someone ’intriguing.’”

Well, that’s a load of crap. Seriously, that really gives me
no insight into the man who seems to be all about appearances. I haven’t seen
this motorcycle side of him; if anything, the thought of Dominic on a bike
makes me snort with laughter. He’d look absurd riding a bike in his groomed
expensive attire and haughty attitude. Whatever. I Google him some and
basically find that all the results are the same. Little insight and fluff
filler about how cool he is. I click images to see what pops up: lots of
paparazzi shots with numerous women on his arm at different charity functions,
galas, and some at his club. All the women look like models and look fake. Fake
hair color, fake tan, fake body, fake nails, just fake. They look bored and are
probably there simply to be eye candy or pampered. Gag. In the pictures at clubs
the women are scantily clad, leaving little to the imagination. The charity
functions and galas show Dominic dressed to the nines looking dapper as ever
and his dates fit the same bill. Coiffed to perfection but vacant eyes. I
momentarily feel bad for him. It looks like he has no real relationships with
real people. I remember a time when I pretended I no longer preferred jeans,
and never left the house without a perfectly applied application of make-up an
inch thick covering any natural beauty I had to offer, when all I really wanted
to do was tug on jeans, a hoodie, and a quick coat of mascara before heading
out for the day. I’d been so sucked into Daniel’s world that I’d forgotten who
I was entirely until it was almost too late. I shake the memories from my head,
close the laptop, and kill the light. I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to be a
whirlwind day.