Mr Garcia

The unwelcome vision of a woman on her knees in front of him come to mine, plays like a horror movie in my psyche.

Was it dark and moody, or were the lights on?

How many times did he come?

Oh.

I remember the way he puts his hand around my throat when he fucks me. The darkness in his eyes. His primal urge to dominate.

The fire and fear he lights up in me.

It’s wrong. I know it is.

So, why does it feel so right?

I close my eyes, knowing there are no winners here. This will never work. Sebastian Garcia is an entity all of his own.

And I am an island.

The elevator doors open and I drag myself up the corridor, I close my eyes as I brace myself to knock on the door. Come on, you can do this.

I knock twice.

“Come in,” Sebastian’s strong voice calls.

I open the door and walk in as I act unaffected. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” He points to the chair with his pen. “Please, take a seat.”

I stare at him, wondering if I can lie across his desk in protest until he wipes the last week away from my memory. I sit down. “What is it?”

His dark eyes hold mine, and for an extended time we stare at each other.

“You wanted to see me?” I prompt.

“Yes.” He regains his composure and holds his pen in his hands. “How are we going with the security footage?”

“I’ve done the report, but it appears that he stole a security card from a cleaner’s trolley and simply walked out in the middle of the night.”

“And none of his credit cards have been used since?” He frowns.

“No.”

He rubs his pointer finger over his lips as he thinks. “I’m beginning to get worried.”

“Me, too.”

He leans back on his chair, deep in thought. “Let’s hope they find him today, hey?”

“Yes.” I nod.

There’s no denying that this situation is dire. Not because he’s the head of the country but because he is a human being with depressive addiction problems who is missing.

Sebastian and I remain silent, unsure what to say next.

“Is that all?” I ask.

“You know…” His eyes hold mine. “You are better off without me.”

I stare at him.

“I can’t be what you need, April.”

But, you are.

Emotion rushes through me like a freight train, and I turn my head to evade his gaze. Damn it, why does he make me so weak?

“If I could fix this, I would. I can’t,” he continues.

Liar.

“Okay.” I square my shoulders. I don’t want to be here listening to his lame excuses for one minute longer. I stand. “Is that it?”

A frown creases his brow.

“I won’t bother you again, Sebastian,” I say.

He looks disappointed, but what does he want me to do? Beg to be his prostitute so that I can clear his conscience? As easy as it would be to carry on having no-strings sex with him, I can’t do it.

I care too much.

I’m already hurt. I can’t imagine the state of my heart if I let this continue. Maybe this is God punishing me for treating Duke the way I did for all those years.

This is how he felt about me. The roles were reversed but the scenario the same.

One person was in love. One person wasn’t.

“Is that it?” Sebastian asks. “Is that all you’ve got to say?”

I stare at him, my heart aching. He wants me to take him back on his terms….and I want to.

He slept with someone else.

“Goodbye, Seb.” I force a smile. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

His face falls, and I turn and walk from his office.

That’s it. It’s over.

My phone vibrates on my kitchen counter I pick it up and smile. It’s Jeremy.

I know this is last minute and you probably already have plans, but do you want to grab a drink tonight?

I don’t feel like going out, but maybe I could do with it. Sitting around here all alone and being depressed isn’t helping.

I text back.

How about dinner and a few cocktails? I don’t want a late one. I have a million things on tomorrow.

I don’t, but I can’t stand the thought of being locked into a big night.

Sounds great. I’ll book somewhere. How’s 7:00 p.m.? Do you like Italian?

I smile and reply.

Yum. See you then. X

“Hi honey.” My mom’s happy voice smiles down the phone.

“Hi mom.” I get a lump in my throat, what is it about mothers? I can be as fierce and cold as they come, but the moment I hear my mom’s voice I revert back to the scared child I am.

I just want her to hug me and tell me it’s going to be alright.

“How are you sweetie?”

“Good.” I lie, I feel emotional and sad and I don’t want to talk about it, I know I need to get off the phone, I don’t want her to worry about me. “Mom, I’m just with friends, can I call you back?” I lie to her again.