The Traitor ✓ (Book Six)

Chapter Twenty Two

This conversation does feel inappropriate- talking to my boss about her clients, but neither of us find the strength to stop. She's kept everything bottled up for so long. So have I.

  I don't know how long we stay in the same spot, telling each other our life stories- or the parts of it we want to, the ones that make us seem the least vulnerable, but dawn is just peeking through the curtains before either of us notices. She says her legs hurt and stands up to walk it off.

  Immediately, she stumbles. I reach my own hand out to help her but refuse to stand and make the same mistake she did.

  She takes it. She also accidentally pulls me down. I land on top of her. I start apologizing immediately.

  But instead of accepting it or pushing me off, she places a hand on the back of my neck and pulls me closer. No. This can't happen.

  This is happening anyways.

  The fear in my eyes- not of her but of this, must be present, because hers asks for permission next. If I want a normal life, I can't be weird about attraction forever. Losing Emily ruined me in more ways than one.

  She was my fifth- but she was also my last. In the group, the leaders and members fucked each other so much it was a single step away from a cult. Personally, I didn't feel like fucking any of them. I was almost the only one, too- even among those who were forced into the group.

  So here's our story:

  On our seventh date, we went out to a ridiculously expensive restaurant in downtown dc. I'd just gotten a raise and she'd sold her most expensive commission painting yet. Neither of us could normally afford this place- but we'd decide to spend a week's salary just that once and to never go back, to get it out of our systems. We went in and it was completely empty, but that was fine by us. The waiter told us they got one or two groups a day, but because of how expensive it was that was plenty to sustain them. The meal came out in fifteen courses. All were a few bites at the most, which was annoying- but then we got o dessert and forgot our complaints. They served us three different ones, big enough to feed a family of five. We ate all of it. By the time we were finished, we both wanted to throw up.

  So we did. Emily in the women's bathroom- me later that night in my apartment. But she didn't care; we cuddled each other just the same as we'd done after our last four. Because from the get go, it was clear who my soulmate was. Later that night, after we'd both had time to empty our digestive systems, she gave me a suggestive look.

  I sat up in bed and she straddled me. I kissed her first, but when I tried to pull away for air she drew me back in. She didn't let me go until we were both panting, about to pass out. I was okay with it. Later that night I discovered just how....freaky.... She was.

  Later on she told me it was because she used it as a coping mechanism- that sex was her way of forgetting her past. I was still okay with that. I would've done anything to help her forget that motherfucker related to her by blood.

  Ohh, if I'd ever gotten a hand of him.....

  Fast forward a few weeks after our first time, and she's started acting weird. She was more irritable (than usual) and she was cold. She would sleep on the opposite side of the bed and at the time it scared me because I was so in love with her- I guess I still am.

So I pushed through it until I just couldn't take it anymore. Then, I straight up asked her. "What is with you lately?" I remember saying.

  She turned to me, an eyebrow raised, and acted like I'd just punched her. Because I never questioned her on anything, and we'd never fought.

  "I don't know what you're talking about." She replied.

  "Emily-" I started, but before I had the chance to lower my voice she interrupted me.

  "NO, just STOP!" She screamed. "There are so many things that even you do not know about me! Some things are better left in the past!"

  I placed an arm around her, pulling her into a hug. She did not protest, but her facial expression said she wanted to kill me.

"Okay. Just... I want to help you work through it. I can't do that if you won't.... Tell me at least a little bit."

  Her voice softened next, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

  "My brother tried to call me again from prison. The guards allowed it." Her hands started shaking. She looked like she wanted to off herself.

  "Well...." I cleared my throat. "Whatever you want to do, I will help you. Want me to kill him? I know three guards in the prison he's at ready to do so at my command. Want me to make his life a living hell? I can do that too so  he will feel a fraction of the pain he's caused."

  She ended up going with the later. She never questioned how I knew the guards. The real story? They were just secret service trainees who flunked the initial classes.

  Now, as I look down at Maria, images flash through my head. Some are normal. Others are of her screams from..... that horrible day, the one that still haunts me. She rarely ever cried, but that day the tears freely flowed, and every few hours for weeks after.

"I.... I'm sorry I can't do this." I apologize again, but for a different reason. She simply nods. "This is... also kind of inappropriate.... Considering I'm just an employee."

  "It's okay." Maria smiles. "I understand."