Claimed for the Master's Pleasure (Guilty Pleasures #5)(19)
“I’m just not that sort of girl, Jake.” If he hadn’t ruined her dress she wouldn’t have accepted the new one, either.
Her shoes lay discarded where she’d left them the night before, and she quickly slipped them on. Realization dawned. They may both enjoy the D/s lifestyle, but their lives away from the bedroom could hardly be more different. Would he call her? She hoped they’d shared an emotional and physical connection last night, and perhaps he wouldn’t want his money back after all. Wise up, woman, we’re talking about a million bucks here. He’s never gonna forget about that. Lia took one last, envious look at Jake’s fabulous penthouse apartment, and then stepped into the elevator.
Chapter Thirteen
Three weeks later
Jake drove the Mustang up the twisting desert road toward his house in Summerlin. Only a mile to go and he’d be there. After three years of staying away, he’d finally decided to return. He guessed Lia had been the catalyst to change his way of thinking. He wondered why he hadn’t called her after the incredible night they’d shared together three weeks ago. He guessed he needed to lay a few ghosts to rest first.
Nestled precariously on the ridge, the familiar fa?ade of his house came into view, and he steered the car onto the sweeping gravel driveway. He’d always loved the way the property seemed to grow out of the hillside, cascading down the sharp incline, to form several levels. With dramatic views over the desert, and Vegas itself, it was impressive. When Hannah was alive it had been a magical place for them both. That was a long time ago now. He switched off the engine, and then eased himself from the car.
Out here, miles from anywhere, the silence overwhelmed him. A gentle, hot breeze blew through his hair, and if he listened carefully, he could just hear the chirping of the cicadas in the distance. The light tinkling of a wind chime, high above him, on one of the terraces, filtered down.
Money wasn’t a problem. He’d made sure the place had been well maintained during his absence. The garden was immaculate, and the exterior of the house was freshly painted. His cowboy boots crunched on the gravel as he walked to the front door. The large double oak panel looked the same as it always had, but a lot had happened in the intervening three years. Even though he’d achieved great business success, and was an extremely wealthy man, he’d lost his reason for living. He pulled the key from his jean pocket. Now was not the time to have second thoughts. With a quiet determination, he noisily turned the ornate key in the lock and pushed the heavy oak door open. After disabling the alarm, a calm acceptance washed over him.
Finally, after all this time, he’d come home.
* * * *
Sitting comfortably on the brown leather sofa, Jake stared resignedly out the large picture window that dominated the living area. He’d been sitting here for hours, watching the day slowly turn to dusk until finally darkness had descended and the moon had risen high in the night sky. It hung like a giant lantern, casting its eerie glow over the terraces outside, and the desert beyond. Like a colorful fairground attraction, Vegas twinkled bewitchingly on the horizon.
When he’d entered the house for the first time in three years, he’d wandered aimlessly from room to room, taking it all in. He’d remembered all the great times that he and Hannah had shared. Everything was exactly as he’d left it, almost as though he’d never been away. As though nothing had changed, but it had—irrevocably. Now, some four hours later, he sat in the shadows, with a picture of Hannah in one hand and a large glass of bourbon in the other.
“I think I’ve met someone else, Hannah,” he eventually said, whispering the words as though they might be heard. At least he’d finally admitted what he felt inside. Jake briefly closed his eyes and held the framed photograph to his chest. “I thought we’d grow old together, but it wasn’t to be.” He breathed in. “Is it possible to find two soul mates in one lifetime?”
Three weeks ago, when he’d opened his eyes the morning after the most memorable night of sex he’d experienced in years, beautiful Lia had been lying next to him, sleeping peacefully. Guilt had suddenly overwhelmed him. He felt like he’d betrayed his wife. He believed he’d always carry a torch for his beloved Hannah, but Lia’s beauty and warmth had finally extinguished it. He guessed guilt was as good a reason as any not to call her. Yet since that crazy, exciting night, he’d thought about her every second of every minute of every day. The way her body fit so perfectly with his. The way her submissive needs complemented his own sexual need to be dominant. The way she gave herself to him—completely.
Jake swallowed a large gulp of bourbon. “It’s complicated, but I’ll figure it out. I always do. When the stakes are high, I’m at my best.” He gently placed the photograph back on the table. “I’ll always love you, Hannah, but I have to move on now.”
* * * *
One week later
With a loud click, Jake Benetti angrily snapped his cell phone shut. This was not the news he had wanted to hear. Standing in the middle of the street, he leaned back against his Mustang, and lifted his gaze to the impressive double-fronted fa?ade of the property. Lia Constantine’s family home looked exactly the same as he remembered when he’d picked her up for that wonderful evening, just one month ago. Almost, that was, save for the large sold sign that stood in the middle of the lawn. From what the realtor had just told him, he’d missed her by just a day.