Broken (Surrender Book 1)

OUR POSTURES WERE RELAXED, as we casually conversed at the table. We listened intently to each other, leaning forward on our elbows and forearms, chatting with the familiarity of two old friends…or intimate lovers, perhaps. After a long while, I noticed that many tables had cleared out. There were only a few patrons left in the restaurant. Gregorio came by a few times during our conversation, and quietly refilled my coffee cup and brought Conner a fresh cup of joe.

‘It’s getting late. I really should get going,’ I said. For a brief second, disappointment flickered in his eyes, but I must have imagined it because he blinked, and it was gone.

Conner retrieved three one-hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and placed them on the table. ‘Conner, you don’t have to do that.’

He rose from his chair and buttoned his suit jacket. ‘I think I can handle it,’ he said as he pulled out my chair for me.

‘Well, next time it’s on me.’ I rose from my chair, standing face to chest. Our height distance was substantial.

‘It’ll be tight, but I think I can also manage coffee on Sunday.’ Conner placed his hand on the small of my back, and we headed towards the exit.

‘Smart-aleck,’ I mumbled with a smile. I added an extra sway to my hips and felt his eyes on my backside.

I noticed a few bold stares from some of the remaining guests, probably wondering what Conner was doing with this big hair, pint-sized, boho chick.

We stepped out into the fresh spring air and headed towards the parking lot. ‘I’ll walk you to your car.’

I halted. ‘I forgot I took a car service here.’

He laced his fingers through mine. ‘I’m taking you home. Come on.’ He began to walk, our fingers entwined.

‘That’s very kind of you, but you don’t have to do that,’ I said, somewhat trailing behind him.

He paused and turned to look down at me, the familiar formidable look on his face. ‘I know I don’t have to. But I want to. Let’s go,’ he gently urged before resuming his stride. This time I kept up with his pace, walking side by side, hand in hand. His large hand was warm and comforting, and although I knew I should’ve unlaced my fingers from his, I didn’t. Already, the boundaries of our friendship were muddied.

We walked over to a matte black Audi R8 on black rims. His car looked like him. Dark, powerful, and expensive, in an understated way. ‘What? No fancy driver with a top hat, Mr. Money Bags?’

‘Not tonight,’ he humored. He reluctantly unlaced his fingers from mine and opened the passenger door.

‘Thank you.’ I smiled as I sank into the plush leather seat.

‘Of course.’ He closed my door and rounded the car.

Before he got in, I breathed in deeply. His car smelled like leather and him. 

After settling into the car, he started the keyless ignition. The Audi roared to life. The rock band, American Authors, blasted from the speakers. He turned down the music from his steering wheel controls to a lower decibel. He skillfully handled his car as he pulled out of the parking lot and accelerated down the empty road. ‘Make a right at the light,’ I instructed.

‘I know the way,’ was all he said, as he made a right at the light and headed towards the I 45 freeway.

My head snapped towards him. ‘Wait, what?’

‘I know the way,’ he repeated calmly, not meeting my stare. ‘I know where you live.’

‘And what were you planning on doing with that tidbit of information? Show up at my place, unannounced?’ I narrowed my eyes and shifted my entire body towards him, as much as my seat belt would allow. ‘What if my man answered the door?’

‘I thought we established that you don’t have one.’

‘But you wouldn’t have known that. Besides, that’s not the point.’

‘Okay. I hadn’t really thought it through.’ He quickly assessed me and my glowering stare.

‘Boundaries, Conner. You have to respect boundaries if we’re going to be friends.’

He gave a curt nod. ‘I’ll try.’

‘You’ll try?’

I leaned back in my seat, crossed my legs, and folded my arms. His eyes roamed to my thighs. ‘Eyes on the road,’ I lightly admonished.

He gave a mock salute. ‘In all seriousness, I apologize if you feel I’ve crossed the line.’

Content with his half-baked apology, I looked out the windows at the darkened sky. ‘American Authors, huh?  I love their stuff.’

‘Yeah?’ He turned it up a bit.

Oh, What a Life resonated through the speakers. I playfully sang along to the lyrics.

I bopped my head to the beat of the drum. My curls flopped wildly while Conner beat his steering wheel with his hands, mimicking the rhythm also.

‘You are just full of surprises, Novalee.’ He smiled one of his rare carefree smiles that almost reached his eyes. ‘You have an incredible voice.’

I gave him an exaggerated wink. ‘Thanks.’

We turned down my street far too soon.  I was pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to talk to him, to hang out with him. At Amy’s wedding, he appeared to be arrogant and unfriendly. His conversations with others seemed curt and dismissive. But tonight, as time went on, we both eased into a comfortable casualness.

We drove into my complex’s parking garage, and he eased his Audi into an open parking space.

He turned off the ignition, the roaring car immediately silencing. ‘I’ll walk you up.’

‘Sure. Thanks.’ I unbuckled and reached for my door handle.

‘Wait a sec,’ he softly chided. He hopped out and rounded the car. After opening my door, he extended his hand and helped me out of the vehicle.

‘Quite chivalrous of you, Mr. Brathwaite,’ I teased, as he closed the car door.

‘Never stand for anything less, Novalee.’ He closed the car door behind us, and once again, he entwined our fingers. He didn’t strike me as a holding hand type of guy, but he did seem seductive. Maybe this was just his M.O. I knew I shouldn’t have enjoyed it as much as I did.

We entered the elevator, and he pressed the number 6 button. I’d never told him what floor I lived on. Creepy, much? We took the elevator up to the top floor in comfortable silence. We both stared up at the digital display of numbers, a thick fog of tension enveloping us. Did he feel it too? 

Conner had nixed his suit jacket and tie in the car. The top button of his shirt was now unfastened, and its sleeves were carelessly rolled up to his forearms – his corded muscled forearms. As good as it felt to hold hands with him, I knew it was time to create some boundaries.  I held our joined hands up, and he dragged his eyes to them. ‘Is this a good idea, Conner?  I mean, do friends hold hands?’

‘I can’t even hold your hand?’ he asked incredulously.

‘I just don’t want to send mixed messages.’ I lowered our still-interlocked fingers between us.

‘Maybe I’m just an affection guy.’ Yeah, okay. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. We exited and headed to my front door, which was a few feet away. ‘Okay, not really,’ he admitted.

I pursed my lips, shaking my head.  ‘As long as you know that this,’ I gestured to the both of us with my free hand, ‘is not going to happen, especially not in the way you’re used to.’  My body was drawn to him like a magnet. I realized that I now stood much too close to him, our bodies almost touching. He hadn’t moved closer; it was all me.

With his free hand, he slowly twirled a few strands of my curls around his finger. As he eyed the strands of black hair around his long finger, he said, in a deep husky voice, ‘I know I’m not the only one who feels this…thing between us.’  His eyes met mine, a quiet storm brewing in them. The gray specs making a bold appearance amid the brilliant green. The calm expression on his face was a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes.

Even after sitting across from him for over an hour, his good looks and quiet intensity still rattled my cage, made my pulse quicken, and my spirit uneasy. I was rendered speechless. I took a steadying breath as my eyes took in the sight of him. I bit my bottom lip. I had to mentally restrain myself from throwing all sheets to the wind and climbing him like a tree. He was so alluring yet seemed so wicked. This man terrified me because I knew he had the potential to destroy me. Firmly planting my feet on the ground, I tipped my head back and gazed at his breathtakingly handsome face. His stare traveled from my eyes, down to my lips, then back up to my eyes.  ‘You’re beautiful,’ I said on a sigh, my tone rueful.

‘No. You’re beautiful. This is just a face, sweetheart. Nothing special,’ he lamented, as an unrecognized emotion flickered in his eyes for the briefest of moments.

‘Women must throw themselves at you.’  He didn’t deny it, just shrugged a shoulder.  ‘Full disclosure,’ I sighed. ‘There was someone, a man I almost married. It’s been over for a long time now.’ I focused on his chest, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.  ‘He cheated on me with my…with someone really close to me, a family member. Anyway, I’m finally at a place where I can breathe again. And I can smile again. I mean, really smile. And laugh, laugh until my cheeks hurt.’ I smiled up at him, fulfilled by the inner peace that I worked so hard for. ‘I’m finally in a good place. I just can’t risk that.’

He placed two fingers under my chin, tilting my head up to him. His eyes bore into mine. ‘That’s fucking awesome and fucking rare. I would never take away your air or your peace.’ His knuckles grazed along my jaw. So caught up in his touch and how he looked at me, I didn’t expect it when his arm snaked around me, and he pulled me flush up against him. His chin now rested on the top of my head, and he murmured, barely audible, ‘I haven’t breathed in a long fucking time.’ He nuzzled his face into my hair, hindering me from examining him after making such a sad confession. I couldn’t fight it. This connection. This pull. I didn’t want to.

I wrapped my arms around his narrow waist, enjoying the feel of his rock-hard body against mine. I leaned my head against his chest, closed my eyes, and breathed in the scent of him. His last comment saddened me. Who took his air away?  What caused his smile to never reach his eyes?

I loosened my embrace and arched my neck back to look up at him. Vulnerability shone in his eyes as he looked off in the distance before our eyes met again. At that moment, I wished that I could take back the ‘beautiful’ compliment and the observation about women throwing themselves at him. I was ashamed to admit that I had been distracted by his outer shell. His incomparable good looks. Because at that moment, when our eyes met, pools of emptiness stared back at me, causing me to shutter.  Dead eyes filled with an insurmountable sadness made me unsettled and weary.

Conner brushed his hand across my cheek, and against my better judgment, I eagerly leaned into his hand. I closed my eyes, savoring the warmth of his palm on my cheek, but reopened them when the heat of his hand was no longer on my face. Embarrassment seeped through my bones at my reaction to his touch.

‘Friends it is,’ he said curtly, all business-like. He stepped back, releasing his hold from around my waist.

Breaking from the spell, I nodded, the words stuck in my throat for a beat. ‘Well, thanks for walking me up.’ I hurriedly retrieved my keys from my bag.

The air between us had shifted. Conner once again donned the mask that he masterfully wore on the night we first met. The same guarded mask that he wore at the beginning of our non-date tonight. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening, Novalee.’ He placed a brief kiss on my forehead before slowly backing up towards the elevator.

‘Thank you for the ride home.’ I gave a small smile. I unlocked my door then turned to look back at him as he waited for the elevator doors to open.

‘Don’t forget to lock up,’ he said, as the elevator door opened and two intoxicated, giggling girls stumbled out. When drunk girl number 1 got a good look at Conner, her jaw went slack. She abruptly stopped in her tracks, causing her friend to bump into her from behind. Drunk girl number 2 protested, slurring profanity at her friend, before she too, looked up at Conner. He stood there unmoved by their reaction with his hands in his pockets, as he waited for them to exit the elevator. Slut girl number 2, formally known as drunk girl number 2, belted out a drunken catcall and reached out to touch Conner before her cackling friend grabbed her hand. Tramps. Jealousy coursed through my veins as if I had the right. As if he were mine. But still, I wanted to claw their eyes out.

‘I look forward to seeing you on Sunday,’ Conner said as he stepped around Sluts 1 and 2, to get into the elevator.

With a stupid grin plastered on my face, I said, ‘See you on Sunday.’

‘Hey, wait. Don’t go. Come join us,’ Bitch girl number 1 slurred, resulting in Conner pushing the elevator button, causing the doors to close in their faces.

I shrugged at Bitch 1 and Slut 2, and they glared at me.

After locking my door, I leaned my back against it. This was the best nondate I’ve ever had. I pulled my cell phone out of my bag and sent a text to Fatima.

Novalee, 10:45pm

Did you make it home safely?

I headed to my bathroom while waiting for her reply.

Amy, 10:51pm

Packing for Italy. The jet leaves tomorrow morning. Miss you lots!  See you in a few weeks!

Novalee, 10:52pm

Have fun! Take lots of pics! 

After a long steamy shower, I checked my phone, finally seeing a response from Fatima. After swiping her incoming text, I pulled my hair up into a loose pineapple ponytail.

Fatima, 11:27pm

My bad for not replying sooner. I’m home. Again, so sorry! 

I slipped on a black cami and a pair of black and yellow happy-face emoji panties before replying to her.

Novalee, 11:33pm

No worries, hun. I’m almost finished with your birthday gift. I’ll get it to you later this week. Love you!  Try to enjoy the last few minutes of your birthday.

Fatima, 11:34pm

Yay!  Can’t wait. The sketch looked amazing. Thanks, cousin. See you soon. G’night.

Before going to sleep, my hands were put to good use. Thoughts of Conner swam through my mind as I became reacquainted with my B.O.B. My battery-operated boyfriend. I was a goner, I thought to myself, as my body buzzed from my self-induced orgasm.

∞∞∞

THERE WERE HONEST-TO-goodness Tumblr pages and Facebook fan pages dedicated to Conner. I scrolled through a few of them, guiltily enjoying the eye candy on my screen.  Apparently, I had been living under a rock. He was quite popular, not only here in Texas, but across the U.S., his combined wealth and good looks making him a newsworthy.  His professional accomplishments landed him on the front pages of many business publications. Society pages published stories about his philanthropic contributions and speculations about his love life. When he lived in New York, his ‘off the clock’ escapades with supermodels and actresses had provided the social blogs with very salacious material.

It was as if Conner lived three separate lives, one never crossing into the other. By day, he was a hardworking, cut-throat, innovative businessman. A chip off the old block. In the evening, he was Southern royalty, a Brathwaite who owned this town, and was a desirable choice for young, single socialites. During the late-night hours, he was a worldly bad boy, with his ‘New York City ways.’ He was a quintessential bachelor, who broke hearts and shagged more women than Hugh Hefner.

At the sound of my doorbell, I closed my laptop and headed to the front door. I proudly exposed my septum piercing today, sporting a small black horseshoe design. I stopped hiding it from my parents a year ago, much to their chagrin.

‘Good morning, Helena,’ I answered, air-kissing both her cheeks.

‘Hey, sweetie!’ Helena strolled in like she 0wned the place. Well, she did pay for it, so I guess it was warranted. She dressed in almost-too-short Alexis summer dress. Her slender body was incredibly toned, her daily trips to the gym paying off. Her smooth skin was the color of honey, as were her eyes. ‘When are you going to grow out of this hippie faze?’ She scrunched up her nose as she eyed my piercing and attire. I would have gotten even more grief if I hadn’t blow-dried my hair straight this morning. Today the silky straight tresses hung down my back and were bra strap length. When in its natural state, the ends of my hair technically brushed my shoulders. I say technically, but, my curls didn’t really lay down to touch my shoulders. The silky and springy wild locks spiraled outward in an oversized afro, defying the laws of gravity.

I looked down at my outfit. ‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? It’s called boho chic, Helena.’ My tribal print harem pants sat low on my hips. My white fitted crop top and brown leather flip flops completed my look.

Helena ignored my question with a side-eye before sashaying over to my fridge and grabbing a coconut water. I kept them on hand, just for her. ‘I saw pictures of Amy’s wedding. You looked so beautiful, sweetheart. I’m so glad you took my advice and straightened your hair. This natural hair movement is beyond me. I mean, your curls are beautiful, nice and soft, but must you wear them so…wild? It’s just so over the top.’

‘I need to grab my bag.’ I walked away, refusing to have this conversation. I rolled my eyes, practically to the back of my head.

‘Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady,’ she called out from behind. How does she do that? ‘Your makeup at Amy’s wedding was flawless. Fatima did an excellent job. She and I taught you all that you need to know about makeup application and enhancing your beauty. You should wear it more often.’ I loved Helena; I really did. She had treated me well over the years, accepting me as her own. But her bougie tendencies were intolerable, at times.

‘You wanna go grab a coffee first?’ I asked.

‘We don’t have time. Our appointment is in ten minutes,’ she said, looking down at her Cartier watch.  ‘I’ll drive. I brought my new convertible.’

‘Cool,’ I said before grabbing a water bottle and heading out with her.

∞∞∞

WHILE RECLINING IN LEATHER massage chairs, Helena and I caught up on the details surrounding Amy’s wedding. She and my dad were out of town and unable to attend. As our charcoal clay face masks hardened, we exhausted the conversation about who was there and what they wore. The conversation then shifted to a more personal one.

‘So, are you going to tell me about the new man in your life?’

‘What are you talking about?’

She took a sip of her mimosa, eyeing me inquisitively over her champagne flute. ‘Brenda and Dan celebrated their wedding anniversary last night. They saw you while they were out at that trendy restaurant on Louisiana Street. Brenda said you were with a very handsome young man. A Brathwaite. As in Brathwaite Hotels.’

News traveled fast. Brenda and Dan were my parents’ next-door neighbors and close friends. ‘His name is Conner, and he’s not the new man in my life. We’re just friends.’

‘Good heavens, why?’

‘Because I don’t like him like that,’ I lied. ‘I had plans with Fatima for her birthday, but those plans fell through. I was dining alone, and he had just wrapped up a business dinner. He only joined me for coffee and dessert.’ I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. Helena had the habit of making a mountain out of a molehill.

‘Just friends, huh?

‘Yes, just friends.’ I smiled down at my pedicurist, Janie. I avoided Helena’s scrutinizing gaze. Janie smiled back at me as if she didn’t believe me either.

‘How did you two meet?’

‘At Amy’s wedding, actually.’

Helena lowered her voice. ‘Did you go home with him?’

‘Seriously, Helena?’ Heat rose up my cheeks, as I looked down at Janie and then at Helena’s pedicurist, Tina.

Helena shooed her hand, lackadaisically. ‘I googled him today. That man is fine. I just didn’t know he was your type. Andre was black as night. I didn’t know you had a thing for white boys.’

‘Nothing happened,’ I stressed. ‘He gave me a ride home after dinner. That’s it.’ I downed the rest of my green tea, scolding my tongue in the process. ‘And you’re right. He’s not my type. I’m not dating guys like that anymore.’

‘Like what, the rich kind? Oh honey, never ever say that.’

Janie belted out a chuckle before clearing her throat and focusing my feet. I pinched the bridge of my nose. ‘We’re done here. Please, let’s change the subject.’

‘Fine,’ Helena said, defensively. ‘For now.’

‘Goodness, gracious,’ I said, on a chuckle.

After a few moments of silence, she said, ‘So…Keisha reached out. She said she’s been trying to get in touch with you.’

‘Yeah, I got her messages.’ Keisha had left numerous messages on my phone. Messages from the television show producer confirmed my suspicions. They were in the middle filming a new season. Keisha wanted to stage a reconciliation of sorts between us as part of her storyline.

‘She miscarried,’ Helena said, as she studied my reaction.

‘Women like Keisha shouldn’t procreate.’

Helena remained silent, and I refused to look at her. I could feel the pity emanating from her. Helena knew about Raymond and what he did to me. I told her and my dad during a therapy session, soon after moving to Texas. Raymond was swiftly prosecuted. Even though he was now six feet under, having been murdered in prison, he still haunted me in my nightmares.

‘Living with her as a mother would have been hell on earth. Especially if the poor kid looked anything like the father.’ Being my father’s mini-me, I reminded Keisha too much of him. Of his inability to love her and provide her with the life that he so graciously gave to Helena. Helena, however, being a plastic surgeon, didn’t need my father’s wealth. She had a substantial amount of her own.

Helena politely smiled down at Tina, who was busy polishing her toes. I smiled down at Janie, who gave me a wink before continuing to focus on my foot massage. ‘We’ll talk about this later,’ Helena said.

She was met with silence. We were not going to talk about this later. I’d spent countless hours in therapy discussing my complicated and dysfunctional relationship with Keisha. She was part of my past. For my peace of mind, she would stay there.

∞∞∞

A UNIFORMED MAN STOOD at my threshold, ringing the doorbell. He held a beautiful bouquet of yellow roses. ‘Hi.’ I smiled as I approached him, my keys in my hand.

‘Novalee Dumont?’ he asked, his face bright with a smile.

‘Yes,’ I beamed. ‘Wow. They’re beautiful.’ Three dozen long-stemmed yellow roses were elegantly situated in a crystal vase.

‘If you can just sign here, Miss,’ he said, his brown eyes twinkling as he stared at me.

‘Sure.’

‘Lucky, guy,’ he commented, as I signed the pad and took the roses.

‘Thank you, Damian,’ his name tag read. ‘You have a great day.’

‘You as well,’ he said, as he walked back to the elevator.

Upon entering my apartment, I placed the crystal vase on my kitchen island. I plucked the card from its bouquet and opened it, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. It had been a long time since I’d gotten flowers from any man other than my dad.

Looking forward to Sunday.

Conner

I picked up my phone and sent Conner a text. We had exchanged numbers over dinner last night.

Novalee, 1:31pm

Thanks for the roses. They’re beautiful!

My phone vibrated almost immediately.

Conner, 1:31pm

You’re very welcome.

Novalee, 1:32pm

There’s a café down the street from my place. You wanna meet there?

Conner, 1:32pm

That works. 9:30 okay? I’m flying out in the afternoon.

I pulled a long stem rose out of the crystal vase and held it up to my nose. It smelled divine.

Novalee, 1:32pm

9:30 is fine. I’ll send you the address. What time do you have to board the plane?

It was a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, so I decided to grab a water bottle and head out to my balcony.  I kicked off my shoes and curled up on my cushioned wicker sofa.

Conner, 1:33pm

My jet will wait for me.

Novalee, 1:34pm

Okay, Mr. Money Bags. Such a show-off. Lol.

Conner, 1:34pm

What are you doing right now?

Novalee, 1:35pm

Relaxing on my balcony. Just got back from the spa with my stepmom. What are you doing right now?

Conner, 1:35pm

I’m in the office. In a meeting with the VP and a few of my PMs.

Novalee, 1:35pm

On a Saturday?!?  Man, you suck as a boss. And why are you texting me? They probably think you’re a douche. Texting during a meeting. Smh.

Conner, 1:35pm

Probably. Too bad I don’t give a shit. 

Novalee, 1:36pm

You’re incorrigible.

Conner, 1:36pm

You have no idea.

Novalee, 1:36pm

Smh. Pay attention in your meeting. It’s gorgeous outside! Wrap up that meeting so they can get the heck out of there.

Conner, 1:37pm

Okay, okay. For you, angel.

Angel? I like it.

Novalee, 1:37pm

Goodbye, Conner. See you tomorrow.

Conner, 1:37pm

See you then.

I focused on the sounds of the streets below me and sighed with contentment. Tomorrow was going to be an awesome day. Yes, indeed.