Control (Songs of Submission #4)(30)

“I’m Will Santon. I’m a licensed private investigator in the state of California.” He showed her an ID card. She looked at it, back at him, and back down to the card. “I’ve been hired by the law firm of Bode, Drazen, and Weinstein to check your house for surveillance devices. Do I have your permission to enter?”

She glanced at me. I nodded.

“Yes.” She flicked her keys and headed in. We followed her, a line of four suits. The other two fanned out, glancing at everything, as Santon gave Monica papers to sign. I stood behind her and prayed that whoever watched her did so only from the outside. If they got inside, I would have the strong urge to burn the place down.

Finished with Santon, Monica turned to me and whispered, “I’m uncomfortable.”

I kissed her forehead. “Go get your toothbrush and whatever, and we’ll get out of here.”

CHAPTER 19.

MONICA

I found a bag in the closet and threw it on the bed. My drawers were a mess. My closet was even worse. I took whatever I touched first and threw it on top of the bag. I needed work clothes and after-work clothes. Shoes. Underwear. Lacy Jonathan shit seemed absurd. Would his rule still stand? Garter belts and stockings felt frivolous and ridiculous with men in my house looking for cameras and microphones.

I threw both options on the bag. From the bathroom, I got makeup, a hairbrush, ties for braids, and my toothbrush. I was sure I was forgetting something, but I wanted out of there. I’d buy whatever else I needed.

I stuffed everything in the bag and picked it up. It had covered something: a manila envelope labeled Jonathan S Drazen III in Sharpie. One of Gabby’s files. Darren must have found it and left it for me. I picked it up. There was enough inside to give it some heft, but it wasn’t as big as the envelopes she’d created for people in the music industry. Twenty pages, tops. Probably a bunch of friends highlighted in orange and family in yellow. Jessica in pink. The corners were curled and the color faded. I almost slipped it in the bag. But no, I wouldn’t bring it to his house. That was crazy.

“How you coming?” Jonathan leaned in the doorway, his jacket falling on his shoulders in a perfect expression of some kind of victory over gravity. Over everything. If owning a doorway just by standing in it was possible, or beating the shit out of a space by existing within it, he did. His concern over what was happening in my house had a physical presence. It emanated from him in a dense aura of worry, making him seem bigger, more present, more powerful. I was suffocating under the weight of it.

I glanced down at the envelope. His name faced down. “Thirty seconds or less,” I said. He didn’t move, making me nervous. “Shoo. Girl stuff.”

He slipped out of the doorway, and I breathed again. I slipped the envelope into my top drawer, slung the bag over my shoulder, and walked out of my room with my head down.

CHAPTER 20.

MONICA

Telling him about my conversation with Jessica, and the song, weighed heavily on me. I couldn’t think about much else. I couldn’t do it in a neutral space. I couldn’t just tell him and walk out. It was late. My house was overrun.

Jonathan put his hand on my thigh as his other hand rested on the steering wheel. “They’re going to be out of there by tonight.”

“Yeah. It’s a small house. Yours took how long?”

“Couple of hours.”

I looked out the window. I still felt invaded. “If there’s nothing there, you’re in trouble for making a big deal about it.”

“We’ll work out a suitable punishment.” He didn’t look as though he expected to be punished, though. He looked as though he was placating me. I didn’t care for it. I would have given anything for it to be yesterday again.

We waited as the gate opened. It seemed to take forever, rumbling and clacking in a way I didn’t remember it doing before. When Jonathan took my hand and looked at me, he seemed tired. Gorgeous and powerful as always, but wrung out.

“I don’t want you to worry,” he said.

I squeezed his hand. “I’m fine.”

“But I want you to think about who might have done this.”

“Something tells me you have an idea.”

He didn’t say, but I knew he thought it was Kevin. The fact that Kevin had nothing to gain from watching me notwithstanding, anything evil in my life, and stalking me was truly evil, could only be one person’s responsibility. Career going poorly? Kevin. Art show hits a snag? Kevin. Bad day at work? Kevin. Camera trained on my front porch? Kevin.

When we got inside, he dropped my bag and put his arms around me. I rested my head on his shoulder. We rocked together, entwined, fitting together like puzzle pieces. He kissed my cheek, my jaw. A tingle of heat pooled between my legs. I looked up, giving him access to my neck. He was going to take me again, and it would be slow and sweet and generous. His hands worked up my back, and I put my fingers in his hair as he kissed my shoulder.

My body screamed for him. Just once. Before telling him anything about Frontage. Just a little bit of comfort. Just to be enveloped inside him. I didn’t need a f**k. I needed to make love, and the way he touched me showed me he understood.

“Jonathan.”

“Monica.”

“Wait.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“You’re mine.”