Love Becomes Her

Instead, she thought about how he made her feel, how he’d awakened the dormant sexuality in her that had spun out of control, how he’d been the first man in her life to help her experience a real orgasm. That had never happened to her before, until she’d met Conrad. He made her do things that she’d only imagined, and she enjoyed it. And he’d become more demanding as the months progressed. As much as he’d begun to disgust her, he still thrilled her, and that was worse than anything else.

“Hey, baby.” He crossed the room, leaned down and kissed her long and slow.

“Hi,” she whispered when he stepped back.

He looked down at her. “You look tired. Long night?”

That tone was in his voice, the cajoling, demanding tone that preceded the innuendos and accusations.

“Not really.” She shrugged. “Just an evening with the girls.”

“Hmm.” He took his jacket off and tossed it on the couch. “The girls, huh? You sure about that?” His dark eyes grew hard, the line between his brow deepened.

Her breath tightened in her chest. “Of course I’m sure.” She stood. He pushed her back down in the chair then leaned over her, locking her in place with his hands on either side of the chair’s arms.

“Sure there were no guys there?”

“No,” she croaked.

“I don’t believe you.” He pulled her up by the wrist and up to his chest. His arm wrapped around her body. He pressed his lips to her neck and inhaled her scent. “Show me what you did,” he said in an urgent whisper.

“I…didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t believe you.” He bit down on her neck and sucked it gently, then with more urgency. “Show me.” His free hand slid up her sweater. She trembled at his touch.

“Conrad…please…”

“Yes, I know, baby…”

He lowered her to the floor and as much as she hated what he was doing to her body, she couldn’t find the will to resist. Her cries were as much in ecstasy as they were ones for help.

Conrad looked down at her huddled on the floor as he zipped his pants. He smiled as if he truly cared about her. “We have a major new client coming in on Monday. I want you to run the program. You’re the best, and if anyone can land this big fish you can.”

She turned her head away and tried to cover her shame with her discarded sweater, even as her body still throbbed with pleasure.

“And I promise you, Steph, if you get the account, your bonus will be your biggest ever.” He knelt down beside her and with a tenderness that made her heart constrict, he stroked her cheek. “You’re so beautiful, you know that.” His eyes ran over her face. He took his fingertip, placed it beneath her chin and turned her to face him. “Beautiful,” he said again. “And talented…on many levels. That’s why I love you, why I want you at my side.” He lowered his head and kissed her, then abruptly stood.

“I have to go. Son has a basketball game this afternoon.” He adjusted his clothes then picked up his jacket from the couch. “I’ll probably be back tonight. Late. Wait up for me.”

She nodded. He turned to leave. If she could find the strength, she could reach into the chair cushion, take out the gun and shoot him where he stood. Then it would be over. Finally.

The door closed behind him and he was gone.

The sun was beginning to set when Stephanie came to herself and looked around. She’d stayed there curled in a knot on the floor like discarded laundry for hours. She’d lost track of time. Willing herself to move, she pushed up on her hands and knees and slowly stood.

She glanced down at her nude body, the angry red bruises on her stomach and stickiness between her thighs quick and painful reminders. She shivered and not from a chill. She reached for her clothes on the floor, nearly falling over as her head spun. Holding on to the furniture and the walls, she finally made it to the bathroom. She sat down on the lid of the commode and turned on the tub. At least the hot water would wash away the remnants from the outside, but she didn’t think anything could cleanse her battered spirit.

How could she have allowed her life to get so ugly, so out of control? She didn’t know what to do, how to fix it. Too many people relied on her and she couldn’t let them down. There was no way out. If she quit, she knew that Conrad would blacklist her. She’d never be able to work in New York or any other major city again. If she went to the board, no one would believe her, not to mention how humiliated she would feel, having to confess the extent to which she’d participated over the past year.

She was trapped. Trapped by need, trapped by responsibility and trapped by her body. Conrad knew it and pushed all her hot buttons.

But it had gone too far now and she was afraid. She needed a way out, but she didn’t see any open doors in her future.

Her phone rang in the distance. She didn’t have the energy or the desire to get up and get it. She turned off the water to listen to the voice coming through the answering machine.

“Steph, it’s us, me Barbara and us,” she giggled, obviously excited. “We’re waiting for you at my house. Hurry up. And bring your laptop.”

Stephanie frowned in concentration. Waiting for her? What the hell for? Slowly the pieces began to fall into place and a glimmer of hope settled in her gut. Maybe a door was opening after all.

Chapter 10

When the doorbell rang at about eight o’clock, it was Stephanie who was the last to arrive, looking a bit frayed around the edges. Barbara kept her comments to herself as she quickly ushered Stephanie inside.

“You all right, girl?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” She forced a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “Hangover. I was, uh, still asleep when you called.”

She put her arm around Stephanie’s shoulders. “Not a problem. We were just running our mouths as usual.”

Barbara looked especially radiant, as if she’d found the secret of the universe and didn’t want to share, Stephanie observed, but she didn’t have the energy or her usual level of curiosity to press for details. Maybe it was the hair. It was out and curled instead of tied in that ponytail she usually wore. Yeah, maybe that was it, a new hairdo.

“Everybody here?”

“All in the living room. Ann has some exciting news. Come on. Stephanie’s here,” Barbara announced as if they couldn’t see that for themselves.

“What happened to you?” Ann Marie blurted out. “You look awful.”

“Thanks,” Stephanie murmured and rolled her eyes. Ann Marie was always the one looking for a dig, but Stephanie was determined not to let her prying eyes or fast tongue get under her skin tonight. She took a seat at the end of the couch and put her laptop on the table. “So what’s with the big powwow? She leaned back against the cushions, looking from one to the other.

Ann Marie spoke up, using her polished British accent that she employed when dealing with her realty clients. “After our discussion last night, I did some research on available property in the neighborhood and found three buildings that could meet our needs.” She pulled out three printouts from her leather portfolio and placed them on the table. “This one—” she pointed to the first picture “—is on One Hundred and Twenty-seventh Street. This one,” she indicated the next picture, “is on One Sixteen. But this one I think is the best.” She passed the picture around. “It’s a four-story brownstone just off Fifth Avenue on One Twenty-four. It has all the original details, a finished basement, an ample backyard, four bedrooms, two huge sitting rooms and an enormous kitchen. But the best news is that it is in foreclosure, which is good for us.”

“What’s the bad news?” Barbara asked, ever practical.

“Well,” Ann Marie dragged out. “It’s in major disrepair. There has been a lot of water damage, the electrical system must be upgraded and it needs a new roof.”

The trio’s hopeful expressions sank. “Oh,” they chorused.

“But there are tons of programs to help buyers with those kinds of repairs,” she added quickly to quell their fears. “The thing now is to get in there, make a bid and get the property. The rest will take care of itself. And because it needs so much work, the asking price is much lower than the other two.”

“How much are we talking about?” Elizabeth asked.

Ann Marie’s lips pinched for a moment, this was always the time when her clients balked. “The asking price is only five hundred and sixty-five thousand.”

“Only!” Stephanie squeaked.

“You’re kidding,” Barbara stammered, visibly appalled.

“That’s more than a half million dollars for a house that’s falling apart,” Elizabeth added, the alarm in her voice almost comical.