Grounded (Up In The Air #3)

CHAPTER FIVE

Mr. Magnanimous

Red was as outrageously luxe as I had pictured it would be. James didn’t seem to own a property that wasn’t. Every inch of the place was, of course, red. Every shade of red was represented in splashy print on the walls, deep red hardwood floors, and red crystal chandeliers over every table and lounge area.

The first room of the establishment was a massive bar area with high ceilings and red marble topping every surface. The line that wrapped around the block to get into the place meant that it was obviously in high demand, but you wouldn’t know it by the spacious bar. The patrons were well-dressed and well-behaved. The trendy mixing with the affluent in a tasteful atmosphere.

An earnest, black-haired hostess, that probably spent her days modeling, led us briskly through the bars and to one of the extravagant dining rooms. There were three that I could see.

Huge mixed floral arrangements topped every table. All of the flowers were red, of course.

“It’s very red,” I told James.

He just smiled.

The hostess led us to a table in the very center of the large room. No private dining room for us. James apparently wanted to be seen tonight.

Stephan and Javier were already waiting for us at the table. Stephan greeted me with a long hug, Javier a shorter one.

We sat at the beautifully arranged table, and I watched, impressed, as the security team began to position themselves around the room without a word.

“They’re so choreographed,” I said.

Stephan and Javier were both drinking red wine, and James and I had water.

“Bring us the evening’s special,” James told the waitress, who looked star-struck at the sight of him. “If that sounds okay to everyone?”

We all nodded. We were flight attendants, which left us in a strange middle ground where we were all strangely cultured, very well-traveled, but none of our travels had taken us to anywhere quite so intimidatingly expensive. I thought it made us all a little nervous.

We chatted comfortably as we waited for food. The guys all got along remarkably well, which was a relief to me. Aside from having me in common, Stephan and James always had so much to talk about. From sports, to cars, to friendly political debates that only gave me a slight headache, they talked like they were old friends. It warmed my heart.

Dinner came in waves of delicious courses that were small portions of richly seasoned foods, and I only knew what it was all even called because the waitress presented each dish with a flourish and an explanation. The main course, pan-roasted halibut with spring asparagus risotto, practically melted in my mouth.

“Very good,” James told her when she’d served another course.

She practically glowed as she floated away, obviously affected by his praise.

“You shouldn’t throw out that charm so carelessly. You’ll make the whole world fall in love with you,” I told him, smiling slightly.

He grabbed my hand, kissing my fingers. He studied me. “You think so, Love?”

I looked away, blushing, at a loss for words.

Dessert was even more delectable than dinner, with roasted banana gateau and frozen rum custard. The servings were tiny, but I was still stuffed by the time we finished the drawn-out meal.

We lingered for a long time even after dinner, enjoying the beautiful setting and the wonderful company. The guys were headed to a Broadway play after dinner. The thought made me grin. Broadway was not Stephan’s thing, so it was sweet that he would go for Javier.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” James said with a grin. “A men’s health magazine asked me to do a last minute photo shoot and a short interview piece.”

I just blinked at him for a moment. “A photo shoot?” I asked him. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was a supermodel among men. What magazine wouldn’t want him on their cover?

“I saw your last spread. It was very good,” Javier said.

James shrugged. “I do them every once in a while. They wanted me to do this shoot for a fall issue, but I insisted on doing the next one that comes out. I have a good relationship with the magazine.”

I had a thought. “Are you just doing it to show off your tattoos?” I asked.

He grinned a wicked grin and the guys started laughing. It was so crazy, over-the-top romantic, and so James, wanting to show the evidence of his devotion to the world. I blushed scarlet.

“Will you come with me to the shoot? It’s Wednesday afternoon, right after I finish at the office.”

I gave my little shrug. “If you want me to be there, I’ll go.”

His eyes practically glowed at me from his grinning face. “Love, I want you everywhere I go. I’d put you in my pocket, if I could.”

All of us laughed, but I don’t think any of us thought for a second that he didn’t mean it.

“Also, Stephan and Javier have some news for you,” James said, looking at the other men.

I studied them, surprised to see that they looked nervous. I gave Stephan the look that he knew meant, ‘spit it out.’

He chewed on his lip as he thought of what to say. “I had a meeting with James today, while you were sleeping,” he began. That was news to me. I’d had no idea he’d been to the office. “He’s magnanimously agreed to put up the starter capital for Javier and me to open up a bar in Vegas.”

I didn’t react, just studied all of the men, surprised at what had transpired without my knowledge.

James couldn’t seem to help himself, ingratiating himself into every aspect of my life, but how could I be mad, when he did such wonderful things for my best friend? The answer was simple. I couldn’t.

I looked at James. “Thank you,” I told him sincerely.

He shrugged. “It’s an investment. Stephan presented me with an idea that I think will be successful. It’s as simple as that. No need to thank me.”

I gave him a wry look, but that was all.

We finished up, walking out with the guys. I hugged Stephan goodbye and told them to have a good night. James had gotten them their own car and driver for the evening, and they were in heaven, loving the VIP treatment.

Our car was awkwardly silent on the short drive back to the apartment, since Blake and Johnny had joined us in the back. James linked his fingers with mine, but that was all.

“Are you going to explain to me about what happened this morning? Jolene is married? And you were friends with her husband?” I asked, my voice pitched low. I was trying to be reasonable, trying to get through the day without any more drama, but I needed some things made clear for me.

He sighed. It was a resigned sigh, and his face was troubled as he looked at me. “Yes, of course I’ll explain. Thank you for asking, and not just reacting. Let’s go up to bed. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know there.”

I studied him rather suspiciously. “You can’t just tie me up whenever we need to have a talk that you think I won’t like.”

He gave me a smug look. It was infuriating. “As a matter of fact, I can. But that’s not my plan right now. I would just prefer to talk in the bedroom.”

We were in the closet, undressing for bed, before he spoke again. “Scott met Jolene when she was my sub. He was instantly taken with her. When I ended our arrangement, Scott asked me if I minded if he asked her out. I didn’t mind, but I told him that it may not be the best idea, for his sake. That was all I said and all I knew. Unbeknownst to me, they married less than two weeks later.”

He managed to undress first, and moved close to watch me finish.

“A few months after that Jolene called me, asked me to meet her for dinner. I didn’t see a problem with that—didn’t even know whether or not she and Scott had gone out, and I was between subs, so I simply saw it as a chance to blow off steam.”

I made my face go carefully blank as I looked at him. The blowing off steam comment made me feel…delicate, for reasons that I didn’t want to investigate.

“We were…together that night, and again a few days later. She expressed interest in resuming our previous arrangement. I tried to tell her gently that I wasn’t interested, and that I thought that she should move on. That’s when she told me that she’d married Scott. She threw it out as proof that she’d already moved on, thinking it would actually encourage me to reconsider.”

“Needless to say, it didn’t do that. I told her I wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t touch her, if she was married. I never wanted to be an adulterer; the idea is abhorrent to me, especially when I was cuckolding a friend of mine.”

I pulled a sheer slip over my head.

“I stopped seeing her, stopped taking her calls, for at least a year,” he continued. “I was between subs again when she finally managed to pin me down. She was divorced by then, which I knew, though I didn’t know exactly what had happened at the time. Later I would learn that she had filed because I’d refused to see her when she was married. I never should have touched her after we ended our original arrangement. I see that clearly now. My friendship with Scott is irreparable now, unfortunately I figured it out too late. He is completely enamored with her, so much so that he is incapable of seeing reason. I used to be baffled by it—by him losing his head so completely over a woman.” He gave me a self-deprecating smile. “I’m not baffled by it anymore. Now the only thing that baffles me is his taste in women.”


I had to stifle the urge to tell him that they seemed to share a taste in women. I told myself firmly that it wouldn’t be a constructive thing to say. There was a lot about his past that I would need to overlook if we were going to have any hope of staying together. And as long as it really was the past, I thought I could learn to deal, though his explanation troubled me on a number of levels.

I was silent for a long time while I examined my own thoughts, and finished getting ready for bed.

James didn’t appreciate me keeping my own council. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he burst out finally. “Are you upset?”

I went into the bathroom, washing my face and brushing my teeth. James dogged my footsteps the entire time, trouble in those brilliant eyes that never left my face.

I was climbing onto the bed when I finally answered. “I guess I’m just a little surprised with you, that after all of that, you were still seeing her just a day before I met you. I’m not upset, just—is it so hard for you to stay away from her?”

I was glancing at him only as I finished speaking, but I clearly saw him flinch.

“It’s not like you’re thinking. I don’t know if you’ll think it’s better or worse, but I didn’t continue to see her for all that time because I couldn’t stay away. It’s sort of the opposite. We had preferences in common, but I never even liked her. I’ve known from the start that she was mercenary. Perhaps not the extent of it until she went after Scott, but I realized at least enough to know, that I could never care for her. I saw her because I needed an outlet for the things I do, and at my worst, I thought that we deserved each other. I didn’t even contact her that often, only when I was between subs and in a particularly dark mood. Most of the time she wasn’t even allowed to talk—“

I held up a hand, having heard more than enough. “I don’t think I can bear to hear those kinds of details. One last question, and then I’ll drop it. Why does Scott still call her his wife?”

He grimaced. “Scott never got over her. He never saw her as she is. He just sees the package, and the fact that she’s insatiabl—“

I held up that hand again. “Please.”

He brushed my hair from my face. I saw his tan throat work as he swallowed hard, leaning over me. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be insensitive. It’s hard to explain these things without touching on sensitive things.”

“As long as I don’t have to hear any more about her sensitive things,” I said wryly.

He grinned. “You know I’m only interested in your sensitive things.”

I wrinkled my nose at him.

“Too soon to joke about it?” he asked.

I nodded.

He sighed. “Anyway, word is that they remarried a few weeks ago. Poor bastard. She’s going to wring him out to dry. Nothing I can do about it, though I did try to warn him. And I didn’t lose control, Bianca, not like you’re thinking. He took a swing at me, he missed, and I didn’t. They were escorted off the premises. They won’t be allowed back on. Anything else you need to know?”

I shook my head. A part of me could have questioned him all night. Everything about him interested me, from his past to his present, and the masochist in me wanted to know every little detail. I knew what I needed to know, though, and that would have to be enough.

He did his kinky doctor routine, examining every inch of me, and then massaging my body slowly and carefully. I was well-sated from the afternoon’s vigorous activities, but I still wanted him again by the time he finished.

He studied my back for a very long time, but said nothing, just softly kissing the marks he had left there with the black and blue roses.

I felt like I’d slept the day away, but somehow I felt myself drifting off even as he tended to me. He didn’t try to stop me.

I was in that house again. I sat up as though pulled by a string. My father was shouting somewhere in the house, an indecipherable string of Swedish that my ears picked up but that my brain couldn’t translate. Knowing it was a bad idea, I got out of bed.

I glanced down at my cold bare feet, and they were bigger, more grown up, not at all like I remembered. Something was wrong, even more wrong than normal. Still, I padded silently down that long hallway.

The kitchen was where it was supposed to be, but everything else was wrong. A thick red pool was soaking the light blue carpet of the hallway, visible before I’d even made it to the kitchen. I glanced down at my hands. They were already covered in blood. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Still, I approached that kitchen, unable to stay away.

My mother’s body lay on the floor, and it was all I could see for long moments as I stood in the doorway. Her head was gone—just so many pieces on the floor, and in my hair, and on my nightgown. I recognized her only by the hunks of long golden hair scattered around her body. I knelt at her side, clutching one of her delicate hands. It was the only part of her still unmarred by gore.

The moment I touched her, more of the room came into focus.

Hers wasn’t the only body on the ground. Another woman lay scant feet away, and I saw by her garish red hair that it was Sharon. I stared at her, confused and horrified, as my mind refused to see the other horror in the room. Only my father’s yelling made me finally look over, and only because his words changed, a heavily accented sentence in English getting my attention.

“Look, sotnos, look.”

I looked. I stood, a scream building in my throat. My father stood facing me, but it wasn’t him I looked at—wasn’t him I saw. A large figure stood in front of him, his back facing me. Perfect golden brown hair just brushed the white collar of a crisp dress shirt, a strong back showing tensed muscles that were painfully familiar.

“James,” I said brokenly, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He didn’t turn, didn’t so much as twitch at my presence.

I stepped closer, unable to look away. “James,” I said again, drawing even with the horrifying tableau in front of me. My heart stopped in my chest as all of the pieces of the picture snapped into place with a terrifying clarity.

My father stood almost propped against that still as death James, a gun already shoved inside his mouth, pushed far into his throat.

James’s eyes were open, but they were glassy, as though the trigger had already been pulled. His arms were limp at his sides. I grabbed an arm, but the feel of his slack muscles made me recoil.

“Watch, sotnos, watch,” my father said coldly. I began to sob as my father pulled the trigger, unable to stop him—unable to look away.

James crumpled in a heap to the floor, the back of his head disappearing in a gory splash of red.

I sat up with a scream, my eyes wide in the dark.

I began to move, needing action, though I couldn’t see where I was, or where I was going. I was sobbing brokenly when strong, hard arms wrapped around me from behind, lifting and turning me gently into a heart-achingly familiar chest. I gasped and clutched at James even as he lifted me.

I shut my eyes as James carried me into the bathroom, turning on the blindingly bright lights. He didn’t let me go as he got into the bath, still clutching me tightly with one strong arm. I gripped him with both arms, clinging as tightly as I could. I wouldn’t even let go when he tried to strip off my nightgown.

“No,” I protested, gripping him.

“Okay, shh, that’s fine, Love, I won’t let go.”

He sank to the bottom of the tub, keeping me tightly against him, rubbing a soothing hand against my back and keeping me close, murmuring soothing words as I slowly calmed. Eventually he pulled back far enough to lift off my nightgown and then worked slowly out of his boxers. He pulled me flush against him when he’d finished, until we were flesh to flesh.

He washed me, scrubbing me gently but thoroughly, as though he knew about my bloody dream, and knew exactly what I needed.

He didn’t ask me about the nightmare—didn’t ask me for anything at all, but instead gave comfort, anticipating my needs better than I could have communicated, if I’d been able to communicate.

Eventually I spoke, spilling every detail of the dream in a quiet, agonized whisper.

He stroked my back as I spoke, staying silent while I told him about the nightmare. He only spoke when I’d finished and fell silent. “It was just a dream, Bianca. I’m here, and I’m fine. Your father wouldn’t be able to get to me if he tried. And we will take every precaution to make sure he can never get to you. We’ll be fine, Love. Everything is going to be okay.”

I felt better after I got it all out and of course after James reassured me with so much conviction in his voice. We dried off and fell asleep. I clutched him even as I drifted off.

I awoke when I felt James leaving the bed. I sat up when the bathroom door closed, the shower turning on a moment later. I had nearly drifted off again when he re-emerged. I made myself get up.

I watched him get dressed from the closet entrance, barely managing not to drool even in my sleep-dazed state.

James shot me a warm look. “Go back to bed, Love. I have to go into work, but that doesn’t mean you have to wake up at this ungodly hour,” he said, shrugging into a crisp white dress shirt.

I gave a little shrug. I’d slept enough.

He finished dressing swiftly, moving to me with a purpose. He kissed me, a slow, hot kiss, but pulled back without doing more. His golden hair trailed into his face as he bent down to me. It wasn’t even dry yet, but it still looked model perfect. I ran a strand between my fingers.

James pulled back reluctantly. “All of the paintings that you’re working on have been moved into your studio here. And I believe that Lana is going to try to rope you into lunch today, though if she doesn’t, I’d love to get the privilege.”

My brows furrowed. I’d gotten a brief tour of my brand new window-lined studio, but I hadn’t seen my current projects there.

“All of them?” I asked, thinking of the nude I’d started painting of him, the one I’d buried in a chest in the guest bedroom of my small home.

He grinned wickedly. “All of them. I need to go. If you aren’t going back to bed, then walk me out.” As he spoke, he hooked a finger into the collar at my neck.

He kissed me at the elevator. “We’ll dine in tonight, then I’m taking you to the fourth floor,” he told me as the door closed.

I missed him the second he was gone. I had it so bad.

I couldn’t go back to that empty bed, so I painted.

I had to smile when I saw that he’d been quite literal about moving all of the paintings I was working on into my studio. Even the nude of him had somehow been found in my house and shipped here. The man had no boundaries whatsoever.

I worked on the portrait of a fourteen-year-old James that I had begun working on the week before. I worked for hours, becoming utterly absorbed in that image of him, that picture of an outrageously beautiful child with the sorrow of loss and the weight of the world on his shoulders.

I had made good progress on the painting, but still wore just the barest slip, when I heard a brisk knock on the door of my studio.
I cringed. I hadn’t thought that through. I’d started at maybe five a.m., forgetting there was even anyone else in the monstrosity of an apartment.

I set down my brush and opened the door, keeping my body hidden.

I was surprised to find Blake at the door, holding my phone, though I shouldn’t have been. I had just naturally assumed it would be either Marion or Stephan at the door, and I’d been hoping for Stephan. If anyone had to see me in a see-through nightie besides James, of course I’d pick Stephan.

“Ms. Karlsson. Mr. Cavendish would like a word. Please try to keep your phone on you, for security purposes,” she said, her face set in those painfully severe lines.

I just nodded and shut the door in her face. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but it was hard not to be, when I was a grown woman and she seemed to feel the need to tell me what to do.

I didn’t even have a chance to dial James before he was calling me.

“Hello, Mr. Cavendish,” I said into the phone.

“You’re painting,” he said in the warmest voice.

“Mmmhmm. How could you tell?”

“Just by the sound of your voice. It’s sort of dreamy and soft. I wish I were there. I love to watch you paint. I love to watch those dreams in your eyes.”

I shivered, adoring those romantic words and the low raspy cadence of his voice. “I wish you were here, too, though if you were, I’d be working on the nude.”

“I’ll pose tonight, if you like.”

“I like.”

“Mostly I called because I’m between meetings and I wanted to hear the sound of your voice, but also Lana is trying to get ahold of you. She is a ruthlessly persistent woman, and she made me agree to ask you to call her. She’s been trying, but you obviously forgot that you have a phone. Again.”

“I did,” I agreed. I could hardly deny it.

I heard him sigh heavily. “I need to go, but please keep your phone on you.”

“Okay,” I said. I could tell by his tone that he needed to rush, so I kept it short. “I’ll see you tonight,” I told him softly.

“Yes, you will. Goodbye, Love.”