Consume Me (A Burning Desire Novel)
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Authors: R. F. Allie
Consume Me
By
R. F. Allie
Copyright 2013 © R. F. Allie
All rights reserved.
Cover Photograph by Sabri B. Mlouka
Cover Design: Clay Dev
Cover Model: Sally Kf
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This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious
manner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of
various products and brands referenced in this work of fiction. The use of
these trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by their
owners. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is
purely coincidental.
Table of contents
Dedication
I’ve been conjuring my brain to find the perfect words to thank
the people that stood by my side for several months; they’ve been patient, fun,
encouraging, and confident that everything I’d sacrificed was worth it.
So while scrambling through the internet; I stumbled upon a
quote that I found very amusing and that described the circle of people I live
and share my life with perfectly.
“I’m thinking of buying a
monkey…
Then I think: “Why stop at
one?”
I don’t like being limited
in that way…
Therefore, I’m considering
a platoon of monkeys; so that people will look at me,
And see how mellow and
well-adjusted I am compared to these monkeys throwing feces around.”
R.D Jr
This quote made me think about all the crazy people I’m
thankful for…
The only way we would be considered normal and
well-adjusted would be if we stood next to those monkeys.
Thank you H.N for being the best friend any girl would
dream about having. You were the first person who ever read my book and thought
it “entertaining” and “well written”; but didn’t refrain from making a shocked
face when you read one of the scenes. I love you… Forever and Beyond.
To S.A; for being my best girl and showing your excitement
when this book was only a mere idea in the back of my imagination. You will
always remain my best girl and acolyte.
Sabri Ben Mlouka for a beautiful cover and a unique vision…
You are a true artist.
Sally K you are a truly mesmerizing sight to whoever looks
at you, and a tender soul.
Kais T. for skimming immolation and remaining cool about
it… You are a true friend.
Miko H and Miriam O. for being the crazy girls that you are
and never missing on an occasion to show how truly disturbed and awesome you
can be.
For H.J, my latent muse. You were the first stranger who
showed full excitement about the story of Landon Davis and Clea Dane. I do love
you.
My two brothers; A.F and E. F; whom I hope never get to
read this book for their own sake and mine. You encouraged me and helped me in
more ways than possible.
To the only man I love…
You are my rock, in this life and the next one…
Finally, to all those of you who are passionate, crazy,
hopeful, lustful, lonely and heartbroken…
You are not all alone in the world…
Just
a burning desire…
Prologue
Landon Davis (September 11
th
, 2012)
I really hate being in this city. It reminds of all the
things I have come to despise, of all the things she’d made me love, that have
become unbearable to me.
I remember a time when I would come to Paris just for the heck
of it and spend the weekend with her inside of our hotel suite just fucking
each other’s brains out.
I really hate being in this fucking city; she seems to be
at every corner.
I can’t even go and enjoy a dinner at
“Les Arts”
just to avoid remembering her smile; that damn smile used to give me a hard-on
just as soon as it would show on her face and I would know she was happy.
I’ve been stuck in the museum for an hour; I hope giving up
the collection would give me some peace of mind. I’m only doing it because it
was my mother’s initial plan; but she still left them to me and told me to do
as I see fit. I think it is best if I honor her will; after all, I still have
my favorites in the lake-house.
But those damn French people and their administrative
rituals are getting the best of me. They almost make me regret giving the
fucking paintings up. I gave some of them to the Guggenheim, and chose the
Louvre for the rest. They were both my mother’s favorites.
However, that damn manager is really weighing on my
patience.
Truth is I came here hoping to find that angel from last
week, she’s the only reason I’m extending the stay. Alec has been begging
me to fly to Tokyo and have some fun with all those models at the fashion week.
But I’m done with models and mannequins and all those fucking gold-digging and
opportunistic Bi…
« Monsieur Davis ; vous
voulez bien me suivre? On va signer les derniers formulaires et on pourra vous
libérer. »
Well
it's about damned time.
I
follow the middle-aged manager with the aggravated expression to her office;
all the while searching for that little brunette with the curly hair.
I had
no luck today; but I’ll go back tomorrow. That girl is the only one who seemed
appealing to me ever since Audrey had embarked on her new adventure and left me
behind, again, for the third time now.
It has
been almost three months; I’m getting tired of the one-night stands and the
usual girls at the club. I need another Audrey.
Actually,
scratch that thought. I need that girl…
It’s
been a long time since the sight of a girl had made my breath rush out of my
chest. She was mesmerizing; something about her called to the deepest parts of
my soul. She wore a little yellow backless sundress, her tan exquisite and her
skin conjuring the touch of my fingers to travel all over every inch of her.
She had
majestic long curls that fell in ringlets around her face. I wanted to push my
finger inside every bundle. Her curls gathered to the side, and it gave my eyes
access to her beautiful face. Her tan suggested that she enjoyed just about the
reasonable amount of sun, her cheeks full and peach.
Her
long eyelashes fluttered while she was concentrating on Botticelli’s
Madonna
and Child
. She was breath cutting; emerged with the painting as if reliving
the history of the painting and saddened by the fate of the child.
Something
captivating flickered in her gaze…
What
had really caught my attention; was the ink she revealed when she pulled the
remaining curls; it was as if she was inviting me to watch it and glimpse into
her soul. It was an angel, a magnifying rebelled woman. Every line in that
illustration was a revelation of the story behind it.
I have
to know the story behind it; I have to know that girl.
I need
to see her again. I need to have her and keep her and be inside her.
She
really took my breath away…
I look
out at the crowded street in front of
Notre Dame De Paris Cathedral
.
I
really need to get out of this city.
I blink
as if my sight had just played a magic trick on me, or I just witnessed a
miracle or an answer to my prayer.
I see
her…
I’d
recognize those curls and that beautiful face anywhere.
It’s
the angel…
Well
I’ll be damned…
“Calvin,
stop the car!”…
Chapter
I
"Wake up sleepy head. You don't want
to miss this."
I nudged Jenna lightly not wanting her to pass
over her big entry in her new life, and we were about to land at JFK. It had
been seven hours and I'd been incapable of getting any sleep; shuffling from side
to side between my iPod and the movie selection on the plane.
Jenna, on the other hand,
and despite all her excitement, fell asleep two hours in. But I knew she
wouldn't have wanted to miss on this moment. The view was quite spectacular.
She'd been over the moon that she was finally moving to New York after all the
hard work she'd put into getting into a graduate program at
Columbia University.
"Oh my god Clea. I made it. I really
did."
She straightened herself in her seat and peeked
out the small window; her eyes filled with happiness and only a gleam of
tiredness.
"Yes Jenna. You made it, now buckle up for
landing and take care of that messy hair of yours."
Jenna gave me a glare and a mocking look over.
She knew I was being difficult because I was tired. She was also certain that
her hair never looked messy.
Admittedly, it wasn't fair to say that. She had
the most gorgeous hair, the one that everyone dreamed about having; straight,
shiny and controlled, with golden-honey highlights that made her skin glow in
the most beautiful manner.
Jenna was my oldest friend; my acolyte since middle school.
We were both living in Beirut back then. Our dads worked together; and
everywhere my dad took us over the years, Uncle Keith and Jenna came with us.
So while moving around, she'd been the one
constant in my life. Despite the distance that had separated us; since after
high-school graduation, she'd chosen one of Paris' most prestigious political
science school, while I'd moved back to New York.
After college graduation, and a big scandal that
had destroyed me, I took the last four months off and went on a long trip. It
was some kind of an eat-pray-love journey. I ended up in Paris for the past
month. It was a blissful trip. I felt recharged and somehow, at peace.
I was back home, and eager to start fresh and
put my life together again.
I had a big dilemma about whether I should
follow up with graduate school or just concentrate on a new job. I'd sent my
résumé to advertising agencies and had several interviews lining up starting
next week. I finally decided that graduate school was a great idea; I always
wanted to carry on with more than a bachelor degree. I finally opted for a
master’s degree in public relations and corporate communication and transferred
to
New
York University
.
I hope that everything would work out just fine.
I'd been stressed out and brooding about the way my life was going to turn out.
"Give me your iPod, mine is dead."
Jenna sat on a bench in
front of a Starbucks in the middle of the airport searching through her purse
and seemingly freaking out.
"What is it sweetie? Here's my iPod."
I handed her the little device and sat next to
her.
"No, no, no! Where's my Polaroid? I can't
find it."
I laughed at her reaction. She had a tendency of
taking things a little too dramatically. She went all over Paris and Barcelona
to find one of those
‘Impossible Project’
shops that had managed to recreate
Polaroid filters for people who loved photographic authenticity.
"Here, it's in the back of your bag."
I opened one of the compartments in her check-in
bag and handed her the camera.
"And stop frowning. We're in the Instagram
era."
I wasn't surprised by her eagerness. My best
friend wasn't ashamed of being the total tourist cliché. Everything she knew and
loved about the city; she'd learned from thousands of romantic comedies and
television dramas. I didn't have the heart to crush her expectations just yet,
so I kept on laughing.
"Ok, now the music."
She beamed and gestured for me to get moving. I
puffed at her, feigning annoyance and walked past her.
"I'm thinking...
New York State of mind
.
Only question is which one, Alicia keys' or Barbra."
"I don't know. Choose whichever you want,
you have both."
"Oh you're such a buzz kill."
Jenna pouted at me.
"Let's just snap a picture and please,
don't forget the smile." She flashed the device at us and grinned proudly
at her first memory in the city.
Mario, our driver was waiting for us at the baggage claim
exit. He used to be just another driver in the booking agency I'd always
contacted when needing a ride outside the city. However, he grew to become a
good friend when I stumbled upon him in a bar next block from my apartment
where he worked as a bartender. He'd always been nice to me, and claimed
himself as my one and only driver in and out of this city.
The ride home was as long as usual, but just as
entertaining. Jenna climbed next to Mario in the front seat and he showed her
around all the way to Chelsea. She was marveling at the scenery and it made me
smile. I could never understand her stubbornness when it came to spend the
holidays with me. She had many opportunities to do so over the years. But she
insisted that the first time she'll step a foot in New York, she'll never leave
it again.
In the end, that was
exactly the way she did it.
I thought that a ride with someone as patient and fun as
Mario would be a perfect opportunity for Jenna to get a little acquainted with
the city, especially since she won't be able to do much sightseeing with her
course schedule taking off the following week. She needed to get a little
familiar with the neighborhoods and I indulged myself in some thinking-over.
I was back home. The past three months had been
bliss and offered me a much-needed escape from what I'd been through; it was
hard at first, thinking about it still made me nauseous and sad, but
thankfully, I grew stronger and resigned to forget all about it.
It won't be easy being in the same city again,
and hopefully, the chances of meeting him would grow slimmer by the day. I
decided that the best thing I could do, was sticking to a safe zone and avoid
any altercations with Caden. It took me a great deal of time to get over him
and what he'd put me through the past year, and I needed to get my life back on
track again.
I decided to text Jude and Ryan to tell them that we had
landed safely and on our way home. Jude was an ultimate part of my life, my
touchstone, along with his better half. While I'd only known Ryan for the last
four years, Jude and I had known each other for over ten years. We'd attended
junior and high school together, then moved to my dad's old apartment for
college and Ryan moved with us two years two years later.
Jude was your basic French dreamer,
Mediterranean look that made people sweat out of jealousy, beautiful sapphire
eyes and a body shaped out of Photoshop. He'd been carrying both our pains and
deceptions, trying to make it better as we went.
He and Ryan had met during one of my college
events that Jude had attended with me. Ryan was merely an acquaintance back
then; we had several classes’ in common, but different majors, so we didn't
spend much time together.
That was until he'd met Jude, and from that moment on, we'd
become the notorious trio.
They never made me feel left out, even though sometimes
I'd felt like I should have. They moved together when an apartment in my
building was put on the market during the summer. I encouraged them to take it.
I could never imagine my life without them, especially Jude. I haven't seen it
yet; they kept me up to date with the moving over Skype and phone calls, so I
was looking forward to see it.
We were closing in on 27th and 6th St. I started looking
through my purse for my keys. I had just gotten rid of the keychain Caden had
offered me as an early graduation present. I couldn't bring myself to keep it;
it was too painful. It was a beautiful silver chain holding my initials carved
in gemstones. A local rising jeweler made it. I remembered the day he'd offered
it to me. I'd been over the moon that he could make a gift feel so personal,
like he knew me better than anyone else.
"OMG Clea, this is beautiful. Way better
than my building in Paris."
Jenna' squeak snapped me out of my trance, her
broad grin illuminated her face.
"What's mine is yours."
I returned her enthusiasm.
"Welcome home Miss
Seiter."
We'd been in the apartment for more than three hours, and
while I was officially exhausted, Jenna was still running and dancing around
all excited. I was happy to be back in the comfort of my home; I’d really missed
it. There wasn't any obvious change.
The guys had even left some of the things that
belonged to them. It was a two-bedroom apartment; the living room area
connected to the kitchen with a Dutch door that my father used to take pride in
establishing how he'd worked on it for several weeks during his college years.
The building was one of the finest and authentic ones in Chelsea. It had a
beautiful view, which my dad used to brag about when giving a reason for
purchasing the apartment.
He'd only lived in it for three years, before the previous
owner had decided to put it on the market for sale. My father went through
hell, and beyond to buy it. He lived in it for thirteen years and left it when
he started his career in politics and moved to D.C.
He used to tell me that it was always intent for
me. That was why when it was time for me to move somewhere for college, I'd
chosen this city and this house.
It was renovated throughout the years; the
landmark preservation of the city puts in lots of efforts to keep the district
spirit and encouraged people to take care of their homes.
My father had indulged in beautiful mahogany flooring all
over the space. When I'd first moved in, I opted for several matching floating
shelves for my books and movie collections. An L-shaped warm beige sofa married
perfectly with the basic surroundings.
I loved the way the house felt when inside it.
It felt like a home. I painted it with warm colors, and filled it with little
knickknacks from the flea market. I had a soft spot for the old tea table by
the window. Even though it was damaged when I bought it, I couldn’t help
falling in love with it instantly. It told me its own story with several names
carved in the wood. It smelled old and genuine. Therefore, I preserved what was
salvageable, and added three colored wood chairs around it.
We never drank tea around it, its only mission
was to look authentic and give a mystic touch to the space.
I settled myself on the sofa with my favorite quilt
watching Jenna initiating her French wit in the house. I was marveling at her
enthusiasm even after such a tiring journey. I couldn't help but grin at her
cheerfulness.
"This is great. I'm definitely here
now."
Jenna crawled next to me jiggling the remaining
of her excitement.
"And the best thing about it; is that I'm
here with my best friend."
She continued grinning ear to ear.
I pushed into the sofa and took her in a
bone-melting hug
"I'm happy too sweetie. You have no
idea."
Jenna blew a wayward strand of golden hair off her face and
gave me a sheepish smile. Oh god!
I knew the eyelid fluttering announced something
I might not like so much.
"You know...»
She said, and then cleared her throat.
"It's only five."
"So?"
I had my own mind about where the conversation was heading,
I faked ignorance.
"So, if we get two or three hours of sleep,
we could totally head to a club and celebrate you and me style."
I wasn't surprised by Jenna's emphatic
pronouncement; for my beloved friend, everything is worth celebrating, and a
seven hour flight wasn't going to stand in her way to indulge in one of her
favorite hobbies.
Instead, it had to be me.
I was tired, ready to get some rest until the
boys get in from work and we can have a night-in catching up on our respective summers.
I'd never been separated from Jude for more than a week, and except for a week
in Barcelona in July, I hadn't seen him for almost two months, so there was no
way I was caving in for her offer.
"I don't think I have any energy left in me
honey."
I said apologetically. "Let's rain check on
that and I promise you the craziest three days in your new life. Let’s just
start tomorrow."
I continued hoping she would take my offer and
let go of the whole idea.
"Oh come on, please." Jenna was
getting into full-on begging mode and I had to stop it before it got the best
of my resolve.
"Here, let's wait for the Jude and Ryan.
Eat some dinner, and if you still have the energy to do any partying. I promise
we’ll go out."
I added, hoping that by the end of the night
she'd be just too tired and get to sleep before she realized it.
"I'm game, but that doesn't mean I won't
get those crazy days. I start classes on Monday."
I raised my arms in defeat and swore to pay my
dues. She settled with a little pout. She knew there was no way in hell for me
to be capable of partying later, but she knew I would keep my promise anyway.
"Okay, but tomorrow, no excuses."
Jenna pointed a knowing look at me and shrugged
in defeat.
"No excuses. I swear."