One Shade of Gray Page 5

  She blinked a few times in rapid succession but said nothing, betrayed nothing, gave me nothing. So I continued.

  “I was in my early twenties at the time. Anyway, that part isn’t important, I suppose the reason I don’t look 160 years old might be the important bit.”

  More blinking, more waiting. I licked my suddenly dry lips and let out a shuddering exhale. “There is something wrong with my telomeres. They’re the nucleotide sequence that keep...”

  She continued for me, “Keep your chromosomes from deteriorating or fusing with others.”

  “Yes,” I breathed. “How do you know what telomeres are?”

  She shrugged. “I watch a lot of Discovery Channel. Go on.”

  I made a note to watch more Discovery Channel if the opportunity arose and she didn’t throw something at me before I’d finished the story.

  “Obviously for a long time I didn’t know why I couldn’t die, or be severely wounded. Then one day the government asked me to come in for questioning. I didn’t leave for a year.”

  “The government held you for a year?”

  I nodded. “In a nine-by-nine box. Until someone higher up in the food chair figured they could study me—and the others like me—better with our cooperation.”

  “Which government?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry?” I understood her question but it didn’t seem entirely relevant to me.

  “I asked which government held you illegally for a year?”

  I swallowed and tried to keep the memories of that time at bay. “The American government. They were particularly interested in military applications of my ability. But I wasn’t created, I was born this way, and they quickly realized they couldn’t force it on another person.”

  The chair creaked again and I glanced up to weigh how she was feeling. Still nothing. This woman had a poker face to rival my own. And I’d had over a hundred years of practice.

  I tried to focus back on the story. “Anyway, I visit their scientists every year, as do others like me born around the world. They study us—we volunteer for this—and they tell us things we need to know.”

  Swivel. Swivel. “Like what?” She could have been asking what the weather looked like outside.

  “Like the fact that I will probably go insane before I die horrifically.”

  The chair froze and she sat up. “What? They told you that?”

  “My telomeres are elastic but my brain isn’t. At some point, like a hard drive, it’s going to overload, and that will probably be an awful experience.”

  She blinked and leaned toward me. Her hand jerked for a second like she might reach across the desk but she didn’t. Instead she sat back again. “Okay. So who is Sibyl?”

  I swallowed heavy and loud. The nerves that had started to settle took up a new tune, as if freshly plucked. “Did you read that book?”

  “You mean Fifty Shades of Grey?” A smile flitted across her face for a flash of a second.

  “Not that one. The other one.”

  Swivel, swivel. “No, I haven’t read it.”

  I rubbed my knees again, shifting back and forth slightly, trying to calm myself. “Well, not all of it was lies. Some of the things were true. Obviously, my being somewhat death-challenged.”

  That earned me a snort and I took the confidence that came packaged with it. “Some of the more debaucherous activity actually happened. But the most important thing to me was the girl.”

  “Sibyl.” It wasn’t a question. More of a whisper, hovering in the air like an accusation.

  “Yes. She was an actress. I was infatuated with her and she with me. However, her brother James refused to let us be together, and she took her own life.”

  "Do you regret that she died?" Izzy asked.

  I considered her question. Even after so much time I didn't have a clear answer. What puzzled me more was that my heart still sank like a coin in a well at the mention of Sibyl's name. "I was grieved to hear she’d died, of course. But it was her choice to take her own life. I regret that she felt alone in the world. I regret that she felt she had no other way. I regret that I played a part in that isolation."

  “Did you love her?”

  I looked down at my hands again, finally feeling the shame I deserved. “No, I didn’t love her. I was a young man—infatuated, in lust—but it was never love.”

  Izzy stood up from behind the desk and came around to lean on the edge in front of me. She was so close I could smell the soap and shampoo she’d used to wash my scent from her body only hours ago. “And what does that have to do with me?”

  I scanned her face, her hair, the curve of her neck. “Because you could be her twin. And I think you’re the reincarnation of her, sent here to give me another chance. Or maybe to punish me for my indulgences.”

  She gripped the edge of the desk and rocked forward to stare at her feet. “Is that it?”

  “I think so. I don’t have many secrets.”

  She snorted. “But the ones you do have are whoppers.”

  With a long sigh she stepped away from the desk and around me to open the door. “You should go. This is a lot to take in and I need to be alone to do it.”

  I grabbed the phone on the desk and slid it off the edge. There was nothing showing in her features and I couldn’t get a clear read on whether she believed me or not. Maybe she thought I was insane now. I nodded and stepped to the opening. Before I exited, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Just in case,” I whispered.

  Her fingers tightened on the door, the knuckles going white. “In case of what?”

  I tried to keep the sorrow from my tone as I walked out. “In case you never let me touch you again.”

  I got to the street and walked home. Michael needed some rest and I needed to clear my head. I’d been alive before Izzy and I’d be alive after her. Her rejection of me would change nothing.

  Except now I had to live with this pit from hell in the bottom of my gut every time I thought about her, or smelled peaches, or walked into my own flat. If she didn’t believe me, she could out me to the board, try to get me kicked off the committee to make decisions for the theater. Even though I owned it, the building was a historical site and run by general committee.

  I dove into the memories of Sibyl. All of which had been so fresh since I met Izzy. The last words I’d spoken to her were in anger, me pushing her away, trying to preserve her feelings. I’d failed miserably. I’d have to live with that guilt. And yet, 100 years later, it would seem I hadn’t learned my lesson about women. Izzy could own me, body and soul, if she simply uttered a word.

  I made it to my flat as the sun began to peek over the horizon. Standing in the entryway, I replayed the scene from the night before. I’d had her there, all to myself, and I’d blown it. A-fucking-gain.

  I slapped my phone onto the shelf by the door and went to the bedroom, which was decorated in shades of white and gray that usually soothed me. Today they only rubbed against my raw nerves. The bedclothes were rumpled but I’d never gone to sleep so they were still tucked tight at the edges. I didn’t bother pulling back the dove-colored linens, instead laying on top before kicking my shoes over the edge to hit the floor with a thwack.

  Izzy’s words played over in my head like an undeletable voicemail you dug out for a routine pity party. Do you regret that she died? Do you regret that she died?

  Do you regret that she died?

  I stared up at the white ceiling trying to block it all out, but my usual breathing techniques for staying in control failed me. Instead of continuing a futile effort I rolled to my side and curled up with my hand under the pillow.

  In the sixty years I’d been under medical observation I’d learned that sleep is the body’s rewind button. Anything could be fixed after a good night’s sleep. A good night’s sleep, a hot meal, and a shower.

  But maybe those fucking scientists didn’t have 150 years of bad choices rolling around in their memories.

  8

  I
zzy

  When Gray left I sat down at my desk and stared at the chair he’d occupied only seconds before. I stared for twenty minutes.

  Everything he had told me was impossible right?

  I wanted to believe him. But my rational brain was fighting me every step of the way.

  I lifted a stack of paperwork and dragged my laptop out from underneath. What did I search for? Super-hot immortal billionaire? I dreaded seeing what those search results would turn up.

  I opened the laptop and pulled up a search bar. With an exaggerated sigh I typed in Dorian Gray. Not a single result for my Dorian Gray, almost all of them involved Oscar Wilde. This was never going to work.

  I snapped the laptop closed and shoved it back under the paperwork it had been so newly liberated from.

  My phone was back at my apartment. A casualty of Gray’s early morning kidnapping and brain mauling.

  I plucked at the edge of Jake’s shirt, not liking an idea as it began to take root. Too late, already sprouting leaves and tiny acorns.

  I walked back to my apartment as the sun began to filter through the avenues. The early morning crowd shuffling about stared at me as I passed. Like they’d never seen a girl in her pajamas before. I’m sure these Paris streets had seen a lot worse than my worn-in leggings.

  When I got to my door a box sat propped against the frame.

  “Damn it, Gray.” I whispered. “This isn’t giving me space.”

  I snatched the box from the floor and grumbled all the way to the kitchen for a knife. The box opened smoothly with a quick slice and I stared down at a leather book.

  The Picture of Dorian Gray.

  I opened the cover carefully and a slip of paper fluttered to my white granite countertop.

  Izzy, I marked the important parts. I’m free to talk whenever you want.

  I didn’t open the book to the tagged pages. Instead I sat it on the counter and went for my cell phone by the bed. One missed text from Mr. ‘I can’t let it go’ but I ignored it and dialed the number my brother gave me when he’d left for unknown destinations eight months ago.

  Once I gave the passcode I hung up and waited. Five minutes passed and I got a call back from an unregistered number.

  “Hello Dear Sister,” his voice cut through the line.

  I sagged into my bed and lay back on the mussed covers. Hearing my brother safe and sound always gave me a renewed sense of peace. Like I could breathe a little longer. During the time that passed between our talks, my lungs slowly constricted until we spoke again.

  “You sound safe,” I said.

  He chuckled. “I am safe. What’s up?”

  I threaded the edge of my blanket through my fingers and let out a sigh. “I need a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “There’s this guy.”

  “Do you need me to kill him and make it look like an accident?”

  I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “No, I don’t need anyone murdered.”

  “Offer stands. Especially if he hurt you.”

  “He didn’t hurt me. I just need to know more about him.”

  Shuffling came through the earpiece. “Ok give me the details.”

  “Dorian Gray.”

  More shuffling. “Is that a code word I’m not familiar with?”

  I wished it was. “Nope. That’s his name. Claims to be that Dorian Gray.”

  “Really Iz?”

  “I know how it sounds, alright? Just look into it please. He claimed he was taken by a secret government agency monitoring people with weird genes like his.”

  “I’ll send you what I find. Are you alright?”

  No. “Yes, just great.”

  “You’re not fooling anyone here.”

  A hot tear slid from the corner of my eye and swiped it away. “Gotta go, Jake. Time for work. Let me know what you find out. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Iz. Talk soon.”

  The phone went dead and I let my arm fall to the bed. It slid from my hand into the sheets. More tears threatened to fall but I held them back and sat up.

  Shower. Clothes. Adulting for now. Wallowing later.

  Once I shuffled into the bathroom I stared at myself in the mirror and decided to skip the shower. I brushed my teeth, wet and brushed my hair flat, and swiped on some mascara.

  I had a troupe of actors to calm down, a billionaire on my case, and a studio director showing up at my office any minute.

  I pulled on my big girl pants, threw a few necessities in my bag, and headed back to the office.

  Every step through the back halls had me peering around corners for him. I was torn between wanting to see him and not wanting to see him. At lunch I grabbed a complimentary sandwich and then went back to my desk in case he was around.

  But the joy of free food from my favorite shop was tempered by the cloud hanging over my head.

  I figured I had two choices. Believe him or don’t. My phone vibrated across my desk and I snapped it up to check the email my brother sent. All his contacts were on multiple notifications.

  A .pdf attachment. I hovered my thumb on top of the icon. Did I open it now? Later? Did I open it at all? Gray had told me the truth, or at least his version of it.

  I let out a sigh. Why was I stressing so much about this? He was a guy I’d had one—barely one—night with. More than that, he was my boss and someone I didn’t need to be messing around with in the first place.

  I inhaled and exhaled, and then scrolled up and hovered over the delete button. It took a second of fortitude but then I clicked it and dropped my phone to the desk.

  I had work to do and no time for games.

  Instead of spending more time on it I grabbed the stack of scripts from a drawer and headed downstairs.

  It was quiet in the auditorium in a comforting way. I sat on the edge of the stage and swung my legs into the pit.

  The first script was a classic and one I’d read a thousand times. Great but not appropriate immediately after Romeo and Juliet.

  The next script didn’t strike me as the right one either. None of the next five did anything for me.

  I stared at the stacks of paper. It wasn’t the poor scripts’ fault. It was mine. I couldn’t focus on them. My mind kept shifted back to Gray and his goddamn perfect face. Perfect body. Perfect everything.

  It appeared my little pep talk earlier had no effect on my libido, at least.

  I stacked the scripts neatly and headed straight for Gray’s office. His secretary Mina sat behind her desk.

  “Is he in there?”

  She jolted and dropped the pen she’d been holding. “Oh yes, go ahead.”

  I walked into Gray’s office to find him sitting behind his desk, feet propped up, a book open in his lap.

  “Is that what you get paid to do?”

  He glanced up and closed the book. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

  I shrugged and sat the stack of paper on the nearby shelf of books. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon either.”

  He lifted his feet up and over the desk to stand. “Did you need something? Or have a question?”

  I locked the office door and skirted the desk to stand in front of him. “Yes actually, I did need something.”

  His eyes lifted an increment and he buried his hands into his pockets. Waiting. Did I have the balls to take what I wanted?

  When he swiped his tongue over his full bottom lip and pulled it between his teeth, my insides went molten. “You owe me.”

  The look he shot me was worth the moment of uncertainty. So worth the tiny dip in my belly for coming here after all. I didn’t say anything else while he watched me shimmy up onto the desk and hike my black pencil skirt around my waist. Thankfully, the man could take a hint.

  He locked eyes with me as he shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over the back of his chair. Then he loosed his tie and popped his collar button. My mouth watered just looking at him, knowing what all that toned skin felt like under hi
s clothes. It was almost as good as having him naked. Almost.

  He got down to his knees, gripped my lower thighs hard, and shoved my legs apart. It could have been his way of tricking himself that he was in control here. I’d let him think that if it helped.

  I lifted my hips so he could get my panties off and scooted to the edge of the desk. He stared at my wet pussy like it was oxygen he needed to maintain life. A vital necessity. And when his mouth took over and he delved his lips and tongue between my legs I realized it all had very well been worth it.

  His hands came around to cup my ass so I was barely situated on the desk anymore. He shoved his face into my core, all the while driving my hips forward to take more. I reached out and took the edge of the desk, holding on while he licked and sucked and fucked me with his tongue.

  Oh, this was exactly what I needed. Every bit of my body ignited at the touch of his lips. My nipples pebbled hard under my blouse and I cupped one of my breasts to try and stop the ache there. But the press of his tongue was beginning a new rhythm that sent that pressure exactly against my clit. I dropped the hand from my boob and into his hair, trying to rub myself faster, harder, deeper. Then he sucked my swollen bud into his mouth and it almost shattered me. I lay back on top of his desk in hopes I could get closer, increase the pressure, anything. So close. So fucking close.

  My body began to quake as my orgasm surged up, breaking in his mouth, and I let go, almost screaming, catching a hand across my mouth as he sucked my clit and shoved two fingers into my already squeezing tunnel. He fucked me like that, with his tongue, his teeth, his fingers, his whole damn face. When I started to come back to myself he eased off carefully, releasing the pressure on my clit slowly like the dial on a pressure cooker until the heat of him was gone and I was left empty and aching for more.

  I opened my eyes and spots danced across his white ceiling. Other sensations filtered in like the tilt of my hips at a strange angle and the paper cut I had on my ass cheek from a stack of papers underneath me. Now that I’d gotten off, I believed I’d be able to think more rationally about the situation. But sitting up to see Gray come back with a warm wet washrag and clean me up only made me want to roll over and present my ass so he could fuck me as he should have last night.