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To all those who are searching, grasping, desiring to find their true love. This one ’ s for you.
They say that love is supposed to be this heart-pounding, earth-shattering thing that you experience. It’s supposed to smash into your world and make you see things differently. Well, I’ve never experienced that before, nothing even close. The men I’ve dated have always been the shy, silent types. Certainly they never engendered any earth-shattering feelings. It seems sad, really. Here I am twenty-four, and I have never been touched by anything like real love. What’s the point of all this? WhydoIevenbother still looking?It’sobviouslynotgoingtohappenfor me.
“Edwin,wouldyoupleasegetreadyfor dinner?”Myfather’stoneisclipped. He’s having a big client over for dinner tonight. Kaleb Cox. I can’t believe it either. He’s the biggestfashiondesigner ontheplanetrightnow,andhe’scoming here. I pull myself up out of my comfy bed and stare my father in the eyes. He hasn’t been the same sincemymomlefthim.He’sbeensternwithme,never pleasedwithanythingIdo,never happy. Imissher.
I suppose I should think she was selfish in leaving. But living in this big apartment has its drawbacks, so does living with him, my father. Nothing is cozy. It’s all modern furniture, cold, and sterile. Dad never wants to talkaboutanythingother thanwork. And thenthere’s the factthatI’mgay. We never talk about that. I think I’ma big disappointment to him. His son who wants to be an artist rather thananinvestmentbanker likehim.
“DoIhavetogotothisdinner?”Iask.
Imean, Iknow it’s Kaleb Cox, butit’s still a business dinner and those are never fun. I’d be there specificallyto prove to the client that myfather has a family. It’s all a ruse. We don’t act like family behindcloseddoors.
He nods. “Of course youdo. Youknow how these things work. I have to present the show that I haveahappyfuckingfamily,evenifthat’snotthecase.”
Isigh.It’sgoingtobeoneofthosenights.
He turns to leave myspacious room. It looks out over the heart of New YorkCity, whichI love. “AndEdwin?Wear Auraextonight.Ineedyoutorepresenttheclient.”
“Fine.Whatever.”
Ijustneedmydadtoleavemyroom.
Auraexis Kaleb’s brand and inthe space ofthe last five years, it’s overtakenthe world. Iswear people have gone crazyfor this brand. It’s oneveryone lately, especiallycelebrities. Naturally, ithas thepricetagofGucci,makingitjustunattainableenoughtomakethemasseswantit.
I walk to my massive closet and thumb through my shirts. At this age, I should’ve moved out by now, butwhywould I? Ihave all the amenities here thatIcould wantas IfinishgettingmyMaster of Fine Arts degree. Besides, myfather, small-minded and cantankerous thoughhe maybe, doesn’twant metoleave.It’dbewaytoolonelyherefor himwithoutme.
Ihaveeveryvarietyofdesigner representationinmycloset TomFord,Valentino,Versace,YSL, you name it. But, of course, none of them make me happy. What would make me happy is to have someonetolove,someonetomaketheearthquakebeneathmyfeet.
Ishakemyhead,tryingtogetthenotionoutofit.WhatcanIsay?I’madreamer.That’sall thisis. IchooseablueAuraexshirt,swappingitfor mybasicwhiteT-shirt.Ihavetosay,Kalebhasgood taste. The shirt is soft, almost silky and it has a subtle pattern on it that even I don’t mind. I run my hands over it, straightening it across my slim hips. Then, I go to the bathroom and slap on some cologne.
Ilookpresentable.
I look like the son of New York’s most prestigious investment banker. That’s the part I need to playtonight. No one cares thatinside I’mactuallya sensitive artist, anintrovert, someone who wants tohidefromtheworldwhileIproducepaintingsandsketchesall day.
I have no idea what it’s going to be like to talk to Kaleb tonight. I know, fromhis pictures, that he’sdevastatinglyhandsome.Butmostpeopleinthefashionindustryarebeautiful,sothat’snotsaying much.
It’s goingto be a beautiful dinner made byour private chef where myfather and Kaleb will talk shop the entire time. I’ll smile and remember my manners, thanks to all the etiquette courses my mother made me take. Then, when the evening winds down, my father, with his dinner guest, will retiretothelibraryfor scotchandbusinessdeals.I’ll slipoutatthatmoment.It’sthesamethingevery time.
Walkingoutofmyroomthroughthe longcorridor thatleads to the restofthe apartment, it’s hard nottoremember mymother.She’severywhere.She’sineverything.Fromthecarefullycuratedartthat lines the walls, to the tone of the wood floors which she picked out, to the wood paneling on the wallsthatshemadesurewastraditional tothebuilding it’sall her.
Itrytonotremember.
Sheleft.
She’snolonger here.
She’snever comingback.
I walk into the great roomthat’s just off the hallway. Dad’s already there having his first drink, readyinghimselftolandasharktonight.
“Hey,”IsayasIenter theroom.
Huge floor-to-ceiling windows overlook Central Park. Billowing sheer curtains flow fromthem asDadhasthedoorsopentotheterrace.
He’s tall, around 6’4, with piercing green eyes that look like they were born from the darkest forest.Hislipsaresoftandfull,buttherestofhisfaceseemstobecutfromglass.Structured,straight nose.Chiseled,highcheekbones.Strongjaw.
Imeltinside.Literallymelt.
It’sall Icandotocontinuestanding.
Kaleb has the bodyofa Greekgladiator, cutfroma solid piece ofgranite. Rockhard. Igasp and havetocover mymouth.
“Edwin,I’dlike youtomeetKalebCox,” myfather says as ifthis meetingis perfectlynatural and not heating up my insides as if I’ve been applied to a skillet on a very hot fire. Somehow I will my legs to move and walktowards the gentleman. His eyes are onme the entire time. Theynever deviate fromme,mylankybody.
I never dreamed that Arlo’s son would be so handsome. He’s tall and thin, with no meat on his bodywhatsoever, buthis face is practicallytakenfromanancientpaintingofbeautiful people. Ican’t helpbutstareathim.
Arlo nods, showingme outto the terrace. “We’ve always loved livingbythe park,” he says. “It’s primereal estate.”
I look out upon the rainy night, not mentioning the fact that my own penthouse is so much better. LocatedonBillionaire’sAvenue,Ihavenotonlyaview ofthepark,butofthewholedamncity. “It’sgorgeous,”Isay,tryingtowooArlo.
I have a big deal to make with him tonight. It’s in my best interest to make him feel like he’s special,likehe’simportant,evenif,tome,he’snot.Notentirely.
Edwinwalks outside withus, and it’s all Icando notto lookathim. Iwantto dragmyeyes over hisslimbodyandwatchwhathedoes.
He’s fascinating, this man. He’s probablyinhis earlytwenties, and I’mthirty-sevenso there’s an agedifferencethere,butIdon’tgiveafuck.IwantwhatIwant.
So,Iallow myselftowatch.
As he peers over the edge ofthe terrace wall, Ilook. Iexamine the clean, ropeylines ofhis arms as evidenced throughhis blue Auraexshirt. Then, Iwatchas he looks downbelow atthe parkand all itspeople.
Iobserve thathe is disinterested bymyconversationwithhis father. He looks up to the sky, to the fatraincloudsthatarebeginningtoform,andmakesaface.It'ssomethinglikeawewrittenthere.
"Youknow, Kaleb, mycompany, Eclipse Investments, has beenpursuingyoufor years. I have to ask,whynow?Whyareyoustandinginmyapartmentnow?What'schanged?"
It's true, Arlo has beenrelentless. He or a member of his teamhas called myoffice nearlyevery dayfor the pastthree years tryingto acquire mybusiness. Ilike thattype oftenacity. Butthat's notthe only reason I'm here. I've done my homework. I know that Arlo is clean. When it comes to his company, he means whathe says. He will absolutelymake me a tonoffuckingmoneyifIinvestwith him. That's whatIneed atthis phase inmylife. Mycompany, Auraex, has takenoffmore quicklythan I ever expected it would. I need a competent wealth manager and I need it now. So, that's why I'm here.
Ilookathis son,atthewayhe's wearingoneofmyshirts,andIhavetosaythatit's something.It's a step in the right direction. Arlo obviously made him wear the shirt. Edwin, for his part, may not know how tostylemyclothes,butatleasthe'strying.
"I know you," I say. "I've done my fucking homework on your company, Arlo. And I know that whenand if I invest withyou, youwill make sure that I make so muchdamnmoneythat I will never have to work again. I will never have to think about money. I will never have to wonder if my company,Auraex,isenough.”
“Good,” I respond. "Because if you fuck me in any way, I can promise you it will be the end of your career."
Iwalkbackinto the house, leavinghimwiththose words. Iwantto stayand lookathis artistson, butIknow thatthis is how Ineed to getbusiness done. Arlo has to know thatwhenhe is incharge of millions ofdollars ofmymoneythatIexpectperfection. Ihave to be his number one account. He has totreatmelikeIdeservetobetreatedashisnumber oneclient.It'stheonlyway.
EDWIN
I canhardlybelieve what I have just heard. No one speaks to myfather like that, except, apparently, KalebCox.
My father looks at me anxiously before saying, “Well, get in there. We need to charmhim. This couldbethebiggestclientI'veever had."
I look down at the expensive, yet subtly impressive, shirt that I'm wearing and wonder how exactlyI'msupposedtocharmamanlikethat.
Still, Iknow this is animportantaccountfor myfather so Igo inside to find Kaleb standinginthe great room. He looks like he belongs there. He commands the room like a statue or something. It's hardfor metolookawayfromhis body.Icanpracticallyseetheripplingabs throughhis shirt.Surely themanhasaneightpack.
"So, whatpartofthe citydo youlive in?" Iask, thinkingthis is a simple question, a wayto make small talk.However,somethingtellsmeKalebisnotthetypeofmantomakesmall talk. His eyes center onme, causinga furious ripple of desire to shudder throughmy body. "I live on Billionaire’sAvenue.”
"Oh,"Isay.
I don't know how else to respond to that statement. Onlythe richest people inthe citylive there, billionaires, people withso muchmoneythattheycould buytheir ownstreetinthe richestcityinthe worldiftheywantedto New York.
men.Myfather is his ownbreedofman,richinhis ownright.ButKaleb?He's abillionaire.How am Igoingto have dinner witha manlike him? Eventhe etiquette classes mymother sentme to won'tget me throughthis. Ihave absolutelyno idea how to act. Whatwill Isay? Ifeel like Idon'tevenlive on thesameplanetasthisman.
We enter the diningroomwhichis beautifullyset. There are three place-settings atthe end ofthe longtable, whichcanseat twenty. We eachgo to our spot withmyfather takingthe head. He always sitsthere,whichleavesmesittingacrossfromKaleb,staringintohisbrillianteyes.
Fuck.
Thiscannotbemylife.
"BillionairesAvenue,”Isay."Thatsoundsnice."
The server comes around with expensive wine, pouring us each a glass. For me, it's a nice reprieve fromhaving to talk to this incredibly complex man. The reprieve is short-lived as his eyes findmine,burningmewithhisgaze.
We just have one apartment in Manhattan. I can't imagine what it's like to be this man. I can't imaginewhathe'sdoinginmydiningroom.
Myfather looks towards me, perplexed, and thenhe says, “Kaleb, your fashionline has become oneofthebestintheworld.Youmustbeveryproud."
Everyone knows Auraex. It's as expensive as Gucci and yet it's more widely worn. Kaleb has fashionshows all over theworld,andthey'vequicklybecomeglamorous events wherethewho's who ofsocietywanttoseeandbeseen.
I saynone of this to Kaleb. I don't want himto know that I know exactlywho he is. I don't want himtothinkthatI'msomefan.Thatwouldbesoembarrassing.
Instead,Idrinkmywineandtrytothinkofsomethingprofessional tosaythatwon'thumiliateme. “Auraexis a fastmovingbrand," he says. "It's grownso quickly. EvenIcouldn'tpredictthis type ofsuccess."
It's hard for me to imagine that there was ever a time inKaleb's life where he wasn't successful. Hejustseemslikethetypeofmanwhomakesthingsturntogold.He’sMidaswithoutthedownfall.
"Itmustbenicetobeontop,”myfather says.
Kaleb's eyes shift to my own when he says, “It is nice except that you have to pay attention. There'salwayssomeonereadytotakeyour place,tostabyouintheback."
His words nearly gut me. I can't imagine having to look over my shoulder all the time, to make sure I stay a success. After all, I'mjust a struggling artist with a rich father. What do I know about success?
I watch Kaleb throughout the entire dinner, hanging onto his every word. I find the man so intriguing.He'ssomeonewho’smagnetic,attractive,andfull ofcharisma.
Ifindthatbytheendoftheeveningwhenmyfather andKalebaresupposedtoretiretothelibrary to discuss business, I don't want to go backto myroom. I want to staywhere he is. But I reluctantly saygoodnight.
That's probablythe lastI'll ever see ofKaleb Coxand itdisturbs me thatthe thoughtmakes me so sad.
I need more.
“So,dowehaveadeal?”Arlosaysover hisscotch. Iwatchthe fire intently. I'mnotwonderingifthis is a mistake. Iknow thatitisn't. ButIknew that before Iwalkedintothis apartment.IvettedArloandhis company.Iknow thatEclipse Investments is the wayto go. WhatI'mthinkingaboutis his son, Edwin. He's beenonmymind nonstop since he left us.
“Wehaveadeal.”Iholdoutmyhandfor himtoshake. There’s no goingbackonthis. I'mgoingto hand over millions ofdollars to this man. He’d better treatmeright.He’dbetter know whatthefuckhe'sdoing. Withasmileonhisface,hesays,“Great.That’sgreatnews.Ipromiseyouwon’tregretthis.” “Ihopenot.Youknow I’mcountingonyoutomakemeaveryrichman.”
We watch the fire together as it flickers and smokes. It’s surrounded by an opulent marble fireplace that must’ve cost a fortune. However, I thinkonlyof the artist, the son, the manwho’s blue eyesIcan’tstopthinkingof.
Myeyes find his and there's a momentwhere Ifeel connected to him, like it's onlyhe and Iinthis world,nobodyelse.
"I don't meet too many artists," I tell him honestly. “Of course, there are people in the fashion world who sketchout mydesigns, but that’s not the same thing. I would sayyou’re a classical artist, yes?”
Before Iknow whatI’mdoing, Ileandownand kiss him. His lips are full and so soft. His mouth receivesmine.It’sakisslikenoother,full ofemotion.
Yes.
Fuck yes. Iwanttoownhim.
Iwanthimtobemyslave.
Ikiss Edwinfor a longtime outthere onthe balconywithhis father rightinside.Iknow thatbeing caught would kill whatever deal I’ve just made. But I can’t help myself. I need to feel him, to touch him,tohavethiskiss.
Myhands travel throughhis sandy-colored hair. Ipowerfullyhold his head inmyhands so thathe can’tescape.
Mine.
Ikisshimwithmorecontrol,holdinghisheadinplace.Slidingmytongueover his,Iallow myself to feel this moment, to relax into it. It’s been so long since I craved somebody, since I let myself experiencethis.Ibitehisbottomlipandheletsoutalittlemoanfor more.
He will always have more of me. He will always have this, if and only if he agrees to be my slave.
Ineedhimtosayit.
“Bemine,”Imurmur againsthislips.“Saythatyouwill.”
“Yes.” He instantlyresponds and Ifeel mycockbecome rock-hard knowingthat he wants this as badlyasIdo.
His lips were on mine. His hands were tangled in my hair It’sall toomuchtothinkabout. Istandonthebalcony,touchingmylips,wonderingwhattodo. KalebCoxjustkissedme.
"Whatwasthatabout?"myfather asks. ItrytoshrugcasuallyasthoughIdon'tcare."Idon'tknow.Hewantedsomeair,Iguess." "Well,Ihopeyoumadeagoodimpression.Youknow how importantthisaccountistome." "Isn'titadonedeal?"Iaskhim.
He nods. "I think so. But you never know with a man like Kaleb. He's so enigmatic. So damn mysterious.Icouldn'tgetafirmreadonhim."
My dad has no idea. Kaleb is one of the most mysterious people I’ve ever met. I have no idea whatthatkissmeantor whatitmeansthatItoldhimIwashis.
All I know is that I can’t control the way my heart is hammering against my chest and the way I feel alittlebitdizzy.
I want to be with Kaleb. I've never wanted anything more in my entire life. But the man is a celebrity, a billionaire. Thatkiss could've meantanythingto him. Itcould've meantnothing. Ihave no wayofknowing.
"I'msurethedeal will workout,"Itell mydad. Helooksanxious."Ihopeso."
“Edwin, you do realize this guy is a very big deal,” Aidan says. “Do you think the kiss will happenagain?Didhegiveyouanyindicationthathewantstoseeyou?”
“Actually, he did.” I take Kaleb’s card out of my shirt pocket and flip it around between my fingers.“Heaskedmetocomeworkfor himasasketchartist.”
“Wow!That’saverybigdeal.Areyougoingtodoit?”
IthinkaboutKaleb, abouthis gladiator’s body, and myinstantattractionto him. Whatwould itbe like to workfor a manlike that? He's verypowerful, commanding, and he knows whathe wants. But whatifhecontinuestowantme?How wouldIworkfor himunder thosecircumstances?
Iknow whatmyheartwants to do and Iknow whatmymind is cautioningme against. It's a matter ofheartversushead.
"I haven't decided yet if I'm going to work for him,” I tell Aidan. "It would probably be a bad idea."
"Yeah," he says. "It probably wouldn't be smart to work for someone you've had relations with. Butatthesametime,it is KalebCox.Whenareyougonnagetanopportunitylikethatagain?"
IthinkaboutwhatAidanis saying. He's mybestfriend and has beenmybestfriend for a number ofyears. Iknow he has mygreatestinterests atheartwhichis whyIcalled him. ButIjustcan'tmake thisdecisionnow.Ihavetothinkaboutit.
"Idon'tknow whattodo,"Isay."Idefinitelywantto goworkfor Kaleb.Itwould be a greatthing
IhangupthephonefeelinghappythatIventedalittleandgotthisgiantsecretoffmychest,butI'm no closer to knowing what to do. Kaleb is a big deal and me? I'm no one. I’m a struggling artist. I couldnever fitinhisworldofglamour andprestige.
I lie back on my bed remembering what it felt like to have his lips crushed against my own, to havetheweightofhisbodypressingagainstmine.It'samomentInever wanttoforget.
EdwinHarper called myoffice a few days ago. He spoke withmyassistant, settingup a time for him tobeginwork.Thatdayistoday.
Fuck yes
Ihaven'tbeenabletostopthinkingabouthimsincethatdinner partyathishouse. Those lips…
His deep blue eyes…
The way I made him tremble… It’sall there,freshonmymind,remindingmeofwhatIwant,ofwhatIshouldn’thave.
Edwin is younger than I am by over a decade. And, he’s the son of Arlo, my new business associate. Iknow thatIneed to stayawayfromhimbutsomethingtells me that’s notgoingto happen, notwhenhe’sgoingtobeworkingfor meinsuchcloseproximity.
Itake a deepbreath,wonderingwhatthe fuckIshoulddo. I’ve alreadykissed the man.Itookita step too far. So, whydraw the line there? Ishould give into myinstincts whichare to make himmine, to undress him slowly, handcuff him, and make him tell me over and over that he’ll never be with anyoneelsebutme.
Pacingaround myoffice, Iwaitfor himto arrive. It’s maddeningthatIfeel this wayfor someone. I’musuallymore controlled aboutmyemotions. While I’ll never letEdwinknow how Itrulyfeel, in theprivacyofmyoffice,Icanletitall go.IcanadmittomyselfthatyoungEdwinhasgottentome.
Iwavehimin.“It’sKaleb,please.We’renotthatformal aroundhere.” He walks into my spacious penthouse office wide-eyed, as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Mostpeople have this reaction. I’ve designed the place myself, ofcourse, because Ihave the eye for it. Everythingis modern, butwithtouches oftraditionality. There are sleekleather couches in the center ofthe room, buta large crystal chandelier hangs overhead, offeringwarmth. Mydeskis in the back corner, surrounded by sketches and fabric samples. Being encircled by windows makes it
