Home > Until I Break(43)

Until I Break(43)
Author: M. Leighton

“Sounds like fun.”

“Oh, I can assure you, it will be anything but fun.”

I laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. You have a way of keeping things… interesting.”

His pause speaks volumes. “Here’s the thing: The woman that’s hosting it is a founding member of the club. I’m sure there will be a few other…patrons there, too.”

An ache begins to form behind my eyes. “So what kind of a…schmooze is this?” I assumed he meant some kind of social slash political thing, but he might be using some sort of sexual lingo I’m not familiar with.

“Oh, it’s nothing like that. It’s…no, it’s nothing like what you’re thinking. It’s just that sometimes they make inside jokes and comments and…references, things that I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“If that’s all you’re worried about then don’t. As long as no one tries to drag me off into a padded room, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“All right then. Pick you up at eight.”

“I’ll be ready. And Alec,” I say, stopping him before he can hang up.

“Hmmm?”

“Thank you for being so considerate.”

“No problem,” he says flatly. “See you tonight.”

I stare at the phone long after Alec is gone. His frustration is on the rise. He’s having a harder time hiding it. I don’t know how much longer he can go on like this.

As I sit thinking about him, that tiny niggling feeling that Alec will soon be leaving becomes more than just a niggle.

********

I fiddle with the strap of my wristlet. Alec has been quiet all night. Since we got in the car, he has seemed like he’s angry about something. I’ve asked nonchalantly if he’s all right and, each time, he’s assured me he’s fine, that everything is fine.

But I don’t believe it.

I’m standing quietly at his side as he explains his services to the CEO of a privately-funded substance abuse hospital. Listening to him, it makes perfect sense that he’s actually a psychiatrist, although these people don’t know it. They see him simply as the man that runs the company that offers the services. That’s another benefit to his unorthodox online therapy sessions—anonymity.

I have to give him credit. Alec has made two brilliant careers for himself while revealing to very few his face or his identity. No doubt the employees and social contacts that know him as one don’t know him as the other. Except for the rare case, like the doctor he saw at my father’s function, the one who knew his father.

“Alec Brand, glad you could make it.” I feel Alec’s fingers tense on my lower back at the smooth, feminine voice.

I turn to see a stunning woman standing behind us. I’d guess she’s somewhere near forty, or at least ten years older than my twenty-six and close to ten more than Alec’s thirty-one. Her long, straight hair is rich auburn and her bangs are cut severely, like Cleopatra’s. Her eyes are the palest of blue. They have a sleepy, sexy look that fits her voice to perfection. She beams an…interested smile in Alec’s direction.

“Carla,” Alec says as he bends to press his lips to her cheek. She leans in to him, stretching along his length like a cat. All that’s missing is the purr. “So good to see you.”

Carla looks behind Alec and nods at the man he was speaking with. He nods in return and then subtly turns his attention to someone else, leaving Alec to focus on her.

“I’ve missed seeing you,” she says with a wink. Alec did tell me once that, although he hadn’t “indulged” in quite a while, he did still like to visit the club and stroll through the rooms occasionally. Evidently it was enough to keep the monster at bay.

For a while anyway.

I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing now, if he’s really going without.

Alec doesn’t respond, just gives her a cool smile.

Carla looks to me and nods then returns her attention to Alec. “Is this the reason? You’ve found better entertainment at home, have you?”

“Careful, Carla. Someone might think you’re jealous,” he teases lightly.

“What if I am?” she asks. “I never thought anyone would keep you from coming to watch me.”

It’s that phrase that triggers a memory. From the night Alec took me to the club. The woman on the bed in the first room, the one who looked at us when we stopped in the doorway—that was Carla. Her smile is unmistakable.

Alec says nothing, but I feel his fingers flex against my back again and I can see the tick of the muscle in his jaw.

“It was good seeing you, Carla. Excuse us, please.”

With that, Alec applies just enough pressure to urge me to move. We walk around Carla and he guides me to the bar.

After ordering us a drink, Alec says nothing. But he doesn’t really have to. It’s obvious that he’s angry. On edge. And I’m beginning to think this might be why. I wonder if being around these people, whoever the others might be, makes his…appetite worse, makes his hunger less manageable.

When the bartender sets our drinks in front of us, Alec tips his glass back and drains it in one long gulp. I see his jaw twitch again.

“I’ll be right back,” he says tightly.

I watch him stalk away. I’m baffled by the turn this night has taken. I see Alec open a door to his left and disappear through it, leaving me at the bar with too many questions and too few answers.

Insecurity rises to the surface first. All the old feelings—feelings that I’m not enough, feelings that I’m not normal, that I’ll never be normal—battle to drag me down into a feeling of hopelessness and depression. But something stronger rises. It rises fast and high, to overwhelm and eclipse. It’s the desire to make Alec happy, to soothe his anger, to ease his frustration in any way that I can. He’s given up his pleasure to help me. At this point, I owe him.

Before I can think too much or talk myself out of it, I abandon my drink and follow Alec. I slip through the door that I saw him use. It leads to a flight of stairs. I mount them as quietly as I can and, at the top, find myself on the balcony that overlooks the ballroom.

I scan the long, narrow space for Alec. He’s standing at the half wall, looking down at the crowd below. I can see ire in every taut line of his body. For whatever reason, be it frustration or something deeper, he’s fighting for control.

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