Illusions: A prequel novella to Mirage by Alice Tribue

Author:Alice Tribue [Tribue, Alice]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: General Fiction
Published: 2015-06-03T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWO

Meeting him was one of those moments…those moments that stick with you for some reason and stay trapped in your brain with no way out. The entire ride home, I try to think of something else, anything else, but every thought led me right back to him. I was seriously attracted to this man, and I could tell that he wouldn’t be easily forgotten. He made the night somehow infinitely better even though I did my damnedest to get away from him. What would I do with someone like him anyway? I’d never be able to explain my life to him, and I’m so tired of keeping it hidden from everyone. There are days that I feel like I’m living a double life and allowing someone entrance would only be asking for trouble.

I’m getting ahead of myself anyway. He only asked me out for dinner. It was only one meal. I could do the casual thing and use him for sex—which, by the way, I’m severely missing right about now—but something tells me that Nathan would be trouble. Something tells me that Nathan wouldn’t just go away quietly when the time came. No, he said it himself—he knows what he wants, and based on his looks alone, I’m almost positive that he gets what he wants, too. None of this even matters; I didn’t give him my number, and he didn’t offer his. He’s gone.

I roll onto my stomach, hugging the pillow closer to me and hoping that sleep will come soon. Try as I might, I just can’t clear the thoughts in my head; I can’t push all of the really bad ideas swirling around up there out. I try to think about all of the things that I have to do in the next few days—meetings I need to take, a visit to the spa to make sure it hasn’t been run into the ground by now because it’s my only tie to legitimacy, and checking in with my newest girls. It almost helps—almost. I let my eyes drift shut, and it might just be enough to lull me into slumber, but my phone rings, breaking through the brief moment of peace.

Picking up my cell, I look down at the caller ID. It shows an unknown number and I let out a sigh. I hate unknown numbers, but I always pick up just in case it’s one of my girls trying to get in touch with me.

“Hello.”

“You don’t want dinner,” a deep voice says, “then how about coffee?”

“Excuse me?”

“Coffee… you and me tomorrow morning.”

“Who is this?” I question, knowing full well who it is. I’m playing on the assumption that acting clueless will make this conversation not real.

“I think you know exactly who this is. It’s Nathan Lennox; we met tonight at the charity event where you hastily turned down my dinner invite.”

I sit up leaning against the slew of oversized pillows on my bed. “I vaguely recall that. How did you get my number? Stalking is a crime, you know.

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