"No."
Emily laughs.
"You're such a wuss," she shouts across the table as Oliver crosses his arms, refusing to try some weird meal she packed today as I sit at the table, meeting Terrance's gaze. For the past two days he's kept his gaze on me, looking at me in class, watching me, offering me gentle smiles as I question what it is about. "Come on!"
I decide to zone them out, remembering the tone Nixon's voice took, one rough and filled with power as I felt my stomach turn with butterflies. How could someone so bad make me forget all of that, how he's older, how he's rough, how he's, well, how Nixon is himself? As the bell rings, I throw away my plate, grabbing my backpack as my next class awaits.
By the end of school, I'm following Emily to her place, ready to start our girl's night. We'll be hitting a nice restaurant in the city followed by some art Galla for sculptures. I've brought my change of clothes, a piece of clothing that I got about two weeks ago to just spoil myself with.
Once changed before a mirror, Emily hands me my heels. It's a beautiful dress, navy, just like how Nixon likes it, the dress silky, mid-thigh, no back, and a low front, costing me quite a bit. The heels are just silver pumps that match a statement necklace I have on, watching as Emily finishes up zipping her little black dress, one that makes her look mature and professional. We finish our hair, both with buns, and as we grab our clutches and my keys, we are excited to head out.
The drive is filled with singing along to the radio while my car's roof is done, smiles on our faces as we see the first skyscraper, the one where Nixon's office is.
I decide to just forget everything about Nixon for tonight as we park and head to the restaurant, eager to try the food here at a French restaurant that has been highly recommend by her parents. For the most part, we discuss school and graduation, all until I decide to ask a question.
"What's the Crimson Piano?"
Emily almost chokes on her chicken, her skin paling as some people look our way. She runs a hand through her lilac hair, nervous as I see her biting her lip.
"I just want to know."
"Just a story from seven years ago."
I raise an eyebrow as she takes a sip of her sparkling water, trying to collect herself. "Just a silly story, Lily, one about a piano and some other shit. It's a silly tale most people try to bring up to freak others out."
I leave it at that, knowing soon enough I'll get my answer.
As the night passes, I find myself inside an art Galla, looking at everything from Vitorian-style sculptures to modern. Emily grabs us another set of some finger foods as I take my time looking at the patterns carved into one sculpture of some abstract art piece.
"Beautiful, right."
"Agreed," I reply as we head to the next piece.
Another hour and another story up and Emily has decided to head onto the balcony for some fresh air as I come before a beautiful sculpture. It's a nude woman, one you would expect from Rome or Greece, the white stone polished, her body plump and breasts rather large, her lips thin and her posture leaning to the left.
"Beautiful," someone whispers, lips brushing my ear as shudders run through my body. "Though I'd rather prefer you to be naked before me."
Right before I can even think, I've landed a hard slap right across his perfect face, seeing his eyes change millions of different colors as my face is stern. "You have no right to say that to me."
Nixon grabs my wrist, squeezing tightly.
"I believe I have every right, you do wear my mark."
I want to slap him again. I want to yell.
But I can't cause a scene. Not here. Not before all of these people.
Holding my wrists tightly, Nixon brings me closer, his eyes piercing into mine as anger rolls off of him in waves. "Are you denying me, my dearest Lily?"
No reply. I don't want to answer. I don't want to say anything. I know what he will do. Besides, it's almost like a rhetoric question.
I look away, back to the sculpture, trying to get my hands freed. A small gasp leaves my mouth as a set of canine teeth gently bite my earlobe, making me think back to all of those nights I spent in his arms.
"Such a pity we have to be leaving," Nixon whispers, my eyebrows furrowing together as I spot Emily, and once she's laid eyes on what is going on, she bows her head and leaves.
Shaking my head, I turn back around to face him. "I won't be going, I came here with a particular person and will leave with that person," I snap, keeping my voice low as a married couple walks by.
My wrists are held tighter, my skin being pinched as I hiss softly in the pain. "Let's go," he growls, his tone leaving no room for argument as I'm pulled out by Nixon, one arm around my waist as he pushes me, and the other around a wrist, squeezing tightly.
I promised my parents. I promised them that I wouldn't see him again. I did it for a whole month, I was able to do so for so long and was completely focused on my graduation plans and college. Now, Nixon is back, and I doubt he intends to be leaving anytime soon.
The second the outside breeze hits me, Nixon is escorting me across the street. "Never wear this dress again in public," he growls, his eyes trained on my breasts for a straight minute, not causing me to feel uncomfortable, for he's seen them many of time.
"You have no say in what I wear, that's so childish," I snap back, trying to yank my body away, but he has a tight grip.
"You know, Lily, I was just working ten minutes ago when I sensed you. I followed my instincts and I found you, right in that building, all alone. Never go alone again."
We're heading towards his office building, the lights still on. "Isn't this place closed?"
"I have night workers, love, so try and act civil when we pass by."
"No, I'm not going up there," I argue, planting my feet firmly on the sidewalk, only to trip over by his force and my heels. Before I can even touch the ground, Nixon as a tighter arm secured around my waist, hoisting me up as I'm led right into the front lobby.
I do what he wants, acting civil as some people watch.
As we get into the elevator, I start to feel uncomfortable, wrapping my arms around my body as he presses the top floor button. However, the instant the doors shut, lips are smashed against mine and a moan surpasses my lips.
My body will always betray me when it comes to him.
Those hot hands I missed are back on me, sliding past the silk as I find myself grabbing onto his tie, pulling him closer, wanting to feel more. As his hard body is completely against mine, I push my hands through those locks I've missed, allowing his tongue to go past my lips as I feel a smirk upon his face.
Suddenly, it's over, the doors opening as I've got to collect my breath. Nixon is already out, walking down the hall, and I'm quick to follow, knowing not to upset the beast.
I find myself the submissive now, following his steps as some workers look my way, only to bow their heads. Once I've approached his office door, I feel my fingers begin to shake. Do I?
I promised my parents to stay away. I felt good without Nixon, I was able to focus on things I needed to before graduation.
Reaching out, I take hold of the brass handle.
But with Nixon I feel alive. No doubt there's a part of him that frightens me. But I've become addicted to those hands, those lips, his words, his actions. Everything he does entices me in a spell.
But this door determines what path to take. Just like all those times before, this is another decision of what path to take. Either I leave here, or I enter and begin another act of sin.
Whatever I choose, whatever I decide, what direction I take, it affects everything.
Taking in a deep breath, I choose my path.
<><>
The ceiling is blank, except for the shadows that pass off the window and to the ceiling. I don't want to look forward, I just want to let the silence envelop me as I know this is a bad choice.
I can hear him, tapping his pen against the desk, his chair spinning a bit, his footsteps nearing. I can hear him straightening his suit, letting out a sigh as I decide to close my eyes quickly.
Those warm fingers cup my chin, bring it down as my eyes are lined up with his, but still closed as we stand in the center of his office.
"You came, Lily, no regret should be felt," he informs, releasing the hold of my chin only for his hands to rest upon my shoulders. "A masterpiece."
I don't open my eyes yet, knowing it's exactly what he wants, what he longs for. And at the same time, I want to see those orbs too, those midnight blue orbs that pulled me in the second I saw them.
"My parents will be disappointed and angry," I mumble, looking down to my feet as I open my eyes, seeing his Italian shoes before my view as the chocolate wooden floor looks polished to perfection.
Perfection.
That's what he loves, the OCD part of him always strong.
"Well, they won't find out, Lily, and besides, I know you find it thrilling to do this, to see me, to go against them."
I was never like that before.
"And how would you know that?" I ask, looking up into those eyes that look so deep into me. Nixon takes a step closer, his scent becoming intoxicating as I remember the last night I was in his arms, the night I decided I wanted more than anything to have him bye me. The night I said I was his and nothing could ever part us.
"Lily, if you truly cared for your parents, would you be here? Would you have come back all those days?"
I bite my lip, looking towards the skyline. "I'd go to hell just to be with you, I'd sign a deal with the devil to always be with you, I'd kill for you."
And that's what I'm afraid of, that he would take this obsession of me to be with him past the limits of sanity.
I push his hands off of me, taking a step back as my eyes catch glimpse of the small box on his desk. I remember it from last time, wondering what was in there.
Taking a step back, I want to put distance between the two of us. I want to be with Emily right now, but I still want to be here, with him, in his arms, just smiling if it was the time. But it's not. Smiling with him is something we hardly do.
Yet I'm somehow happy with him.
"What's wrong, Lily, scared of the big, bad wolf?"
"Not at all," I reply, crossing my arms as I watch Nixon go back to his desk, propping his feet up on the desk as he leans back, just watching me like a predator.
And he is a predator, one who kills, who rips his claws through flesh, one who smiles at death.
Yet I love that about him.
Taking a step forward, I walk closer to his desk, my eyes switching between him and that box upon his desk. "What's in there?"
He frowns.
Silence.
Back to the time when we did nothing more than exchange glances under a dark light.
Grabbing a chair, I cross my legs, my eyes glued to the wooden box. "Nixon?"
I hear him get up, and suddenly, the box, it's taken from the desk quickly, thrown into a drawer as I flinch at his harsh movements.
"Never speak of it again."
He walks around his desk, grabbing my arm in the process, pulling me to my feet as he stares down at me. "Promise."
"Why the secrets?" I press, raising my eyebrows as warm fingers move through my hair, almost massaging my scalp as his stare becomes sharp.
Suddenly, my hair is pulled hard, yanking my head to look up at him, submitting to him as I hiss in pain. "You need to lose the attitude, Lily," he growls, those eyes becoming iced blue, my eyes widening at the sight. "You need to learn when not to cross lines."
"You need to know that I'm risking the relationship with my family that I have to to be here with you, Nixon," I snap back, pushing on his chest, only for a growl to be his reply.
I'm shoved against the desk, my back laid down across it as he stares down at me, his chest rising and falling fast as I see he's trying to control himself.
The grip losses, my body relaxing as he pulls away and looks wide-eyed at me.
"I'm sorry," I mumble, sitting up on his desk.
Nixon nods, walking forward again, wrapping his arms around me as he lets out a deep breath. His heartbeat is fast, the thumping echoing through my head as I press my ear against his chest. "I'm sorry as well," he whispers, placing a gentle kiss upon my forehead.
Arms hoist me up, my legs wrapping around his hips as I lean into his touch. Tangling my hands through his hair, I shut my eyes, trying to picture a world without this man.
I cannot say that I can see a world without Nixon, I cannot see a world where I'm not looking into those midnight blue eyes or loving the way he holds me.
I cannot escape this.
I don't want to escape it.
My feet are placed on the ground, but his embrace is still there as I pull him closer to me.
"Where are we headed?" I ask, referring to the future. To our future.
Nixon pulls away, cupping my cheeks as he smiles at me. "That's still to come," he replies, my heart fluttering as he leans in, capturing my lips in a gentle kiss, reminding me of the way I love his hands, his lips, his body, his mind, his heart.
I'll never get enough to of him, and deep down, under all that's going on, I know that this relationship, it's built upon sin and passion, a recipe for disaster.