Loving Her In The Shadow- Sovereignty Read online

  Loving Her In The Shadow

  Sovereignty

  Dj Parker

  Jessica Watkins Presents

  Copyright © 2020 by Dj Parker

  Published by Jessica Watkins Presents

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Without limiting the right under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Act I

  1. Reign

  2. Reign

  3. Nicolai

  4. Reign

  5. Nicolai

  6. Reign

  7. Nicolai

  8. Reign

  9. Reign

  10. Reign

  11. Reign

  Act II

  12. Nicolai

  13. Reign

  14. Nicolai

  15. Reign

  16. Reign

  17. Nicolai

  18. Reign

  19. Reign

  Act III

  20. Nicolai

  21. Reign

  22. Reign

  23. Nicolai

  24. Reign

  25. Reign

  26. Reign

  27. Reign

  28. Reign

  To be continued

  Jessica Watkins Presents

  Act I

  “You cannot outwalk your problems.

  Can never run fast enough to evade them.” -Alyson Noel

  Reign

  New Year’s Eve

  “Stay.”

  Sabaa Tahir once said there were two kinds of guilt: the kind that drowns you until you’re useless, and the kind that fires your soul to purpose.

  So, which guilt was I feeling?

  I don’t know yet, I surmised, tipping the glass of wine against my lips. As I drowned my pallet with warm fermented nebbiolo grapes, I thought of every reason why I should leave. Yet, no reason seemed strong enough to move me from the heated gray and blue marble floors. My eyes swept the penthouse suite for the fifth time since arriving here. A part of me needed to fixate on anything other than the blue eyes that had chased me all night.

  I stopped scanning, fixating on my gold heels that I slipped off and left near the door. It’s not too late to back out of this, I reminded myself.

  Forget the fact that I was married. Forget the fact that in a week, I would be this great city’s new district attorney, making history even though I was appointed and not elected. Never mind the fact that I worked hard to reduce recidivism in my district back in D.C. Forget about the countless hours and sleepless nights I spent working on the campaign for bail reform. And even though I was transitioning into a new position in a new city, I still worked my ass off to find funding for the pre-trial alternative to bail program that I spearheaded three years ago. The community, lobbyists, social workers, attorneys, and judges were riding on me to secure funding for the next five years. And I did—sealing a one-point-six-billion-dollar deal.

  Not only did this secure two-hundred-and-fifty-six jobs, but this funding also allowed the people in my former district to continue their fight against mass incarceration, high bails, and create innovative community programs. I had dedicated my entire life to reform the criminal justice system that has disproportionately impacted marginalized communities.

  Yet, here I was, willing to risk it all for a fucking moment of weakness.

  The top of my left eyebrow twitched, which by my Nana Jo’s definition, meant trouble was coming. If this moment of indiscretion ever got leaked to the public, it would certainly mean the end of my marriage and my career.

  New York was no different from D.C. There were still people who believed powerful positions were reserved for OWM, old-white-men. They’d somehow connect my infidelity to why I was unfit to be a district attorney. No one would give a fuck about my contributions or earnest efforts to dismantle this oppressive system. Nope! Everyone would be more focused on this thirty-three-year-old African American woman stepping out of her marriage to fuck a complete stranger.

  Yet, that piece of reality did not register with the rest of my body. It certainly hadn’t registered with my broken heart. But then again, there was no reasoning with a broken heart. At this rate, I considered my broken heart to be a terminal illness.

  Each time my heart broke, I got rid of some pieces—the weak pieces that chipped away. I’d replace those weak pieces with something durable and withstanding, like metal. Though I couldn’t heal my heart, I’d at least be armored up for the next heartbreak.

  But this, what I was about to do, was completely out of my character. It wasn’t the way I handled problems. I was more thoughtful and strategic. Not impulsive and irresponsible.

  Being here was impulsive. Fucking him would be irresponsible.

  God, if you can hear me right now, please show me a sign—give me a reason to leave.

  This was all kinds of wrong. I knew it, yet my body refused to cede.

  I was gambling with my dignity. Competing with my sanity. Yet, I felt this thrill. A rush that woke up every part of my body.

  I swallowed the rest of the wine and sat the emptied glass on the silver coaster beside the empty solitaire card box. We’d just finished our second round of Gin Rummy. I won.

  Yet, I felt like I lost.

  I dragged my eyes away from the sprawled cards to the curved smart TV that functioned on voice command. Though we could see the ball drop from our floor to ceiling windows, I’d insisted on turning to PIX11, a local channel in New York City.

  There was nothing like starting the new year with the Honeymooner’s marathon, my grandmother would say. It was a tradition that Josephine Parker, “Nana Jo” to all fourteen of her grandchildren, loved to carry out shortly after the ball dropped. And though she’d been gone for three years, today I woke up feeling her presence. I felt this warm feeling in my chest I only felt when I hugged her. Instead of tears filling the corners of my eyes whenever I thought about her, this time, I was overcome with peace. Everything inside me felt relaxed like I’d done a series of mindful breathing exercises.

  I had no idea Nana Jo’s presence was a forewarning.

  I blinked away the thoughts of earlier and refocused my attention on the eager people freezing their butts off on 42nd Street. My eyes moved away from the crowd to the fiery red digital clock.

  11:50

  Though there was still time to back out of this, I willed myself to stay. My decision was final. Tonight, I planned on breaking every matrimonial vow I swore to uphold.

  Still, it was hard for me to accept myself as a cheater when I’d been cheated on.

  The rules had to be different. The hurt certainly pinched away at the heart a little different, but it was in no way comparable to the hurt I felt when I was cheated on—not once but twice. And by the same fucking man I vowed to remain faithful to.

  Though, this time around, I didn’t cry. I hadn’t melted into a puddle of sorrow like before. Nope, this time I was different.

  Still, I should feel guilty.

  Yet, guilt evaded me. I couldn’t find it even if I had recruited a whole search party. I don’t feel guilty. At least not yet.

  Instead of feeling guilty, there wa
s another feeling that stood in front of my moral compass. It was feral and hellbent on being selfish. This feeling was dangerous and scary. It’s the feeling my Nana Jo called a man’s worst nightmare. It was that feeling of a woman not giving a fuck. I was pretty sure I was standing at the boarder of no fucks land.

  And it was he, the man staring at me through the mirror above the bar, that was going to be the reason I crossed that line.

  God, I could stare into his eyes forever. Under his hooded lids and thick black lashes were eyes as blue as the Ionian Sea flowing west of Zakynthos, Greece. I could never forget that beautiful island or the beautiful water surrounding it. I’d only wished that I was able to bottle it up and bring it back to the States with me once Keith and I got back from our honeymoon. But now, the sea I longed to dip my toes back into was staring at me, tempting me to get lost in him. And damn was he just as beautifully sculpted as the Greek island.

  His eyes loomed over my body like a cloud. The more he stared, the darker his gaze dimmed to the color of the sky right before a storm. There was a storm brewing in his blue orbs. I could feel the feverish waves steadily crawl over my skin. I could feel each heartbeat vibrating against all the bones in my body.

  “10, 9, 8, 7…”

  As if the crowd counting down the last ten seconds of the year had been the key to unlocking my conscience, I snapped out of my reckless thought for the first time today. No matter how fucked up Keith was, I was not him. Fucking this sexy ass stranger was not going to change the fact that Keith had hurt me to my core. But damn it, my pussy purred for those blue eyes.

  I can’t do this.

  “6, 5, 4, 3…”

  I shifted my eyes away from his to scan the room for everything I came in here with. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me intently as I walked to the couch and picked up my clutch. Just don’t look back, I repeatedly told myself. His eyes were a trap and I barely got away every time he hooked me in. My breathing began to change as I sensed him following me in slow strides.

  “2, 1…Happy New Year!”

  He brushed past me, barely grazing my body, but enough to awaken all my nerves. I tried not to think about what his lips could awaken. He was temptation in the rawest form and I couldn’t help but to look over to where he’d gone.

  I released a shaky breath when I bumped into a wall made of a solid man. The muscles in my shoulders stiffened as I dragged my eyes up from the olive skin peeking through the flaps of his button-down shirt. He had loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top three buttons sometime during our second round of Gin Rummy. I swallowed the ball of fear in my throat as I continued traveling up his chin, to his freshly shaved cheeks, past his nose, stopping at his arresting gaze. He was intimidating. Very much like me. I guess that was what made me attracted to him.

  I forced myself to continue to stare at him, to get used to him staring at me with eyes that seemed not to blink. This was the only way I was able to get through him staring intensely at me earlier, when I was sitting in the grand room of Camilla’s Cuisine.

  He towered over my 5’10 in heels, like a lion standing over a mouse.

  “Stay. This time of the night always brings out the worst in people.”

  Like how it’s bringing out the worst in me? I wanted to ask, but kept my question to myself.

  “I thought you weren’t looking for a one night stand.” My words fumbled out in almost a breathy whisper. Those were his exact words earlier when we were on the private elevator heading up to the penthouse suite.

  “Have I given you a reason to think otherwise?” he asked with an Italian accent I hadn’t noticed until now.

  “No, no—not—not exactly,” I admitted, stammering over my words. “But you want me to stay the night, nonetheless.”

  “Like I said, this time of the night brings out the worst in people,” he repeated, offering no other explanation.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I won’t be.”

  “I’m not your concern.”

  “Yet, you have all my attention.” His sensual voice dropped to a whisper.

  “Why?” I asked, taking a step back. “You don’t even know me.”

  He held my gaze for a moment, his dark orbs locking me in a trap I’d barely escaped from before. “I was raised to protect women. You’re not going to change that tonight.”

  I should’ve been miles away from here on a yacht circling the Potomac River. My body should’ve been pressed into Keith’s hard chest while his arms held me close. It should’ve been him staring at me like a snack, his eyes slowly undressing me. It should’ve been him who made my pussy muscles clench with one look.

  But it wasn’t Keith standing in front of me, crushing every sane nerve in my body. It was this stranger.

  Although I expected to feel like some low down dirty hoochie, I didn’t. I didn’t even try to rationalize my actions. If I was being honest, I turned off my moral compass the moment I threw on my metallic gold bodycon dress with the deep-V-neck. This dress was supposed to be my show stopper. My baby maker. It was the perfect dress to wear to the New Year’s Eve yacht party I was supposed to be attending with Keith. And when I paired this dress with my favorite gold heels, the little bit of fuck I’d had left was sitting on a nightstand back at the hotel next to my rose gold wedding band.

  Nope, this time was different. Two wrongs could never make a right. But, I wasn’t looking to be right, I was looking to get even—to level out the playing field. To have and hold secrets every time I looked into Keith’s eyes.

  I had to see this through.

  But first, I need to lay down the rules.

  Yet, when I opened my mouth to list them, I couldn’t find the words. Why can’t I bring myself to say what I want?

  There was no denying the sexual tension between us. Yet, my desire was trammeled by the fear of the unknown.

  As if reading my thoughts, he said, “Don’t overthink me. Like I said earlier, I wasn’t looking for a one night stand.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Then why am I here?”

  “I didn’t want to bring in New Year alone.” His heavy gaze dropped down to my slightly agape mouth. “You take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

  Reign

  The moon spilled into the bedroom, making my body the center of attention. I tossed and turned, trying to ignore my throbbing sex. As I begged for sleep to put me out of my misery, thoughts of this stranger made a home in my mind. Would his kisses be slow or fast? Would his touch be gentle or rough? Was he a watcher or did he prefer to close his eyes as he entered me?

  Fuck it!

  I blew out a ragged breath and kicked the covers off my partially draped body. I bent my knees and parted my thighs wide enough to slip my hand in between. I cupped my bald mound before slipping my middle finger between the dewy folds. A moan escaped my lips as my fingers searched for my orgasm. I pushed my head deep into the pillow as I thrust my pussy into my hand. I imagined it was his fingers rubbing on my swollen nub. Images of his lips tracing the outline of my body possessed my fingers to rub faster. As my body trembled, I imagined his lips whispering kisses against my skin.

  He looked like a relentless lover, completely hell-bent on making every touch count. There was no doubt in my mind that he’d own my body, every moan, and orgasm that escaped me.

  I parted my thighs a little wider, using more fingers to rub my clit. I clamped my lips close together, trying to cage the moan that hung on the roof of my mouth. I wanted to call his name, but then suddenly my eyes flew open and I seized all rubbing. I stared at the ceiling.

  How the fuck do I not know his name?

  I couldn’t understand my rash behavior. It was like I was channeling my teenage rebellion years. I’d spent all night talking to him, even played a card game with him. I allowed him to pour me some wine. Yet, neither of us thought to give each other our names.

  I propped my naked body against the mountain of pillows. There was no way I was going to go back to rubbi
ng my pussy and forget about trying to get some sleep. I was wide-awake and for the first time all night I thought about the possibility of this man being a psychopath. Although discernment was the baseline of how I was able to keep my integrity while still being a damn good attorney, I questioned every decision I’d made since leaving D.C. this morning. I wasn’t supposed to go to New York until the end of this week. That was our move-in day for our new apartment and two days before my mentor, Governor Maxine Adams, would swear me into office. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming up here. Hell, I still don’t think I was going to tell anyone I was out here because the last thing I wanted to do was explain why I was out here without Keith.

  I replayed everything that led up to this very moment in my head, searching for any red flag that would cause me to think that this stranger was really some demented sociopath. I found none.

  All in all, he was a complete gentleman. He’d paid for my dinner, even though I’d insisted on paying for my own meal. He’d suggested that we grab coffee and I insisted that we get a room and have a proper nightcap. While my mind had gone to sex, he pulled out a box of cards. While I drunk most of the wine, he nursed the same glass cup of Brandy.

  What the hell am I doing?

  I kicked my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. I walked over to the closet and snatched my dress off the hanger and slipped it over my body. I grabbed my clutch off the bedside table and grabbed my gold heels that I’d kept near the bedroom door. I looked at the crack beneath the door. The light was still on which meant he was still up.