Mine, Not Hers (True Love Book 1) (19 page)

Jason

I can’t fucking believe I have to travel on Valentine’s Day. I have been planning this one for a while, and I was so excited to see Katie’s face. I was finally taking her to Paris, her dream vacation. I didn’t even tell Melanie. Oh, Melanie think’s she’s in on it, but that was just to throw them both off. I know Melanie keeps secrets about as well as a fork holds soup. I asked her to watch the kids for the weekend so she would think we weren’t going far. I didn’t mind Katie finding out that we were traveling, that way she could at least pack a little. I planned to take her shopping for all the clothes and lingerie she could want. Her parents were in on the ruse: They were going to stay at our house with the kids after we left. This just sucks.

One of my top clients blew out his knee and he needs me. Even though I’m not his surgeon, he see’s me for everything else. We even train together. I would drop just about anything to do this for Katie, but he is my bread and butter. We’ll have to do it another time. I’m just thankful that she doesn’t realize how big a surprise I have to postpone.

I sneak into our room nice and early. I had bought flowers and kept them in the fridge thinking I was going to surprise her with a much happier day. She looks so young, just like the first time I saw her, when she sleeps. Her beautiful hair is all around her face, and she’s snoring a little. I would give anything to wake her up the
right
way right now. I lean down to kiss her and she opens her eyes. I break the bad news to her, and she looks so disappointed it kills me. She reaches up to meet me in a kiss, and I can’t stand it. Her lips are my undoing. The kiss deepens and I’m about a half second away from saying “fuck it” when my phone buzzes.
Dammit
! It’s Dr. Wells, the surgeon.

I’m meeting him at the airport. One last peck on the lips and I leave. My beautiful, sweet, pliable wife is all alone, and I’m headed to coddle some athlete. Shit. I meet Wells in the bar on our concourse. Our flight’s delayed, so we have time to catch up. He and I work well together, and coordinate care for many of the same clients. We have a reputation as the best team in Chicago if you suffer a major injury.

We find a table, even though it’s packed due to the weather delaying most of flights. Wells excuses himself to use the restroom. All is can think about is Katie, all cuddled up in our warm bed. If this injury had happened one day later, I wouldn’t even be here and he would've had to deal with it alone. I hear Wells speaking to someone as he’s walking back to our table. I look up and my heart sinks. What the fuck is
she
doing here?

She's with a young man who looks like a trainee. I know she works for a pharma company, and that’s probably how she knows Wells. By the way he’s salivating at her low-cut blouse, I have a feeling he knows her pretty well, or wishes he did. It seems evident by her body language that she’s silently begging me not to make a scene. Maybe that guy’s her boss instead. She pulls up a chair next to me and I feel a cold shiver go down my spine.

This little meeting is no accident. I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen her, but I’m on guard.

“Jason! Or should I say
Dr.
Weber!”

She boasts like we’re dear old friends. Wells looks impressed, and her traveling companion looks peeved.

“You two know each other?” Wells chirps looking envious and more than a little embarrassed.

“Well, Dr. Weber was my G.A. at Northwestern in my first bio lab. You could say he taught me ‘hands on’ biology.”

She gives him a flirty wink. What the fuck, with the double entendre shit. She sees my foul expression and turns white as snow. She quickly tries to recover.

“I’m just kidding. Dr. Weber was always so professional. All the girls in class wanted him, but he let us all know he was unavailable, right Dr. Weber?”

She laughs and touches my forearm. I want to rip it off her body. I’m trying my level best to act like her presence isn’t bothering me. I don’t want Dr. Wells assuming that she and I have any type of relationship. After everything this woman has done to me, the only thing that’s keeping me from killing her right now is that we’re in public and I have a professional reputation to uphold.

“So how did you guys meet?” Dr. Wells asks.

I try my best to change the subject. She hops on this one, too.

“Well, gorgeous Dr. Wells here is one of my clients. Even though we’ve only met face to face once, isn’t that right?” She says as she pats his leg.

His face reddens. She’s fucked him. I can’t believe it. I thought he was a family guy. It’s also evident she’s been keeping herself close to me all this time. What, or who else, has she been doing? She obviously knows my every move and she’s closing in. The hatred I have for this woman scares me. If I weren’t trying to keep Katie safe, I would rat out this bitch for all the pain and misery she’s caused me. I’ve stayed one step ahead of this psycho.

I had her watched for about a year after our confrontation in the classroom. I didn’t trust her. She must have people working for her as well. She has somehow found out my new cell number every time I’ve changed it. I went to the police with the first few pictures and texts, but since I couldn’t prove definitively that it was her, they suggested I not make a big issue and deal with it directly. The cops seemed to think that I was trying to cover up a little fling with a student, and they appeared less than interested in pursuing her. One tip the P.I. gave me, though, was to keep the cellphones and numbers, just in case. Let her dig her own grave.

The first time I ran into her in person since school was about a year ago. The National Association of Physical Therapy conference was being held in Chicago. Lucky for me, I could go home at night after meetings. The last night’s event was a big send-off party, just an excuse to get hammered and screw for the single guys. Being that neither of those things hold any interest for me, I planned on making the social rounds and head out before things got crazy. I took a cab to the hotel that morning; I didn’t want to have to park my car in the lot or take the train. Cabs are always lined up so I figured I could leave when I wanted and not have to drive.

I was hanging out with a group of alumni from Northwestern in the banquet room, some I went to school with, and a few who were students in my classes. That’s about the only reason I go to these things anyway. It’s the only social time away from Katie and the kids that I can stand, and seeing old friends is worth it. Usually.

I felt an arm encircle my waist, and I spun around. It felt like the lights were going out. It was the crazy psycho from my class.

“Hey there, handsome.” She smiled.

She was with a few other people who I recognized as former students.

“Dr. Weber, we were all just reminiscing about your class,” one girl chimed in, whom I didn’t recognize at all. I felt my gut begin to boil, but I couldn’t show it there, it would be way too suspicious. She read my face, and pulled me to the side.

“Can we talk for a second? I’d really like to clear some things up.”

She seemed contrite, but I couldn’t tell. I figured if I could get her off my back, I’d do whatever it took. I excused myself from my friends, and went into the lounge with her. She found a quiet table in the corner. She
is
really beautiful, and every man in the place was checking her out. Ha! If they only knew, they’d be running for the hills. I did the polite thing and asked if she’d like a drink.

“White wine, please.”

She was trying her best to come off demure and sweet. I headed to the bar and ordered a glass of red for me, and a white for her. I needed something to calm my nerves. I couldn’t fathom what she could say to me. I thought I was doing the right thing by giving her a chance to be heard. I was taught that every person at least deserves that right. That’s the only reason I could justify sitting with her when I really just wanted to go home. I went back to the table with our wine, and she looked as if she’d been crying.

“Are you OK?”

She tried to dry her eyes while keeping her makeup in check.

“Yes, I’m fine, just really embarrassed.”

She took a large gulp of wine, and a deep breath.

“I just need to apologize to you, for everything. I was going through a really rough time for a while.” She started to tear up again. One more big sip and her wine was gone.

“Would you like another?”

She nodded and tried to smile.

I reminded myself how lucky I was to meet Katie when I did. Most people think you’re crazy when you tell them that you are still happily married to your high-school sweetheart. I was blessed to have met my soulmate early; I’m one of the lucky ones.

The thought put a smile on my face that I didn’t realize I was wearing until I was back to the table.

“You look happy,” she said with a sneer. Maybe I seemed insensitive as she was sitting there crying.

“I’m sorry, something happy crossed my mind. Anyway, please finish what you were saying.”

That was the last thing I remembered.

*  *  *

I woke up at home the next morning in bed, aside my sleeping wife. I bolted out of bed. I was in my boxers, clothes were in the hamper, and it looked as if I had brushed my teeth. My head was spinning, and I thought I was going to be sick. I was right.

I wracked my brain trying to remember the events from the night before. My wallet was on the dresser. I opened it and found a cab receipt from the previous night stamped 12:30 a.m. I had two receipts from the bar, two wines for her and one for me. No others. One glass of wine? A blackout couldn’t be possible. My cell was dead, so I plugged it in to charge; I thought it would help to figure out what happened. Katie woke up, and yawned.

“Hey, honey, what time did you make it in? I’m sorry, I tried to stay awake but I know how you can be with your colleagues.”

She got up and walked toward me. She wrapped her delicious body around me and snuggled into my chest.

“Mm, you smell good.”

She was getting me revved up; the slightest touch from her can do it. I heard my phone begin to buzz with incoming messages. She went into the bathroom, and I looked at the screen: picture messages from a number I didn’t recognize. I remembered: I was with
her
last night. The last thing I remembered was her crying and telling me how sorry she was for everything. That was it. The rest of the night was a blank.

“Hey, honey,” I said to Katie. “I’m going to run out for some bagels. You want some fresh coffee, too?” I had to get out of there fast.

She called from the bathroom, “Yes, please!”

I threw on my sweats, grabbed my phone and keys, and bolted to my car. Instead of the bagel shop, I drove to the park near our house. I had to see what the hell was on my phone. I parked, but stayed in the car. I didn’t care if someone thought I was some sort of creep, I just needed to be alone. My hand was shaking as I turned it on and opened my messages. What the fuck had she done to me?

There were at least a dozen pictures, and more loading, of us together at the hotel. I was naked in what looked like her hotel room, and I was on the bed. She was sucking my dick. The next picture, I was in the same position but she was naked on top of me. I couldn’t make out if I was erect and inside her or not. The pictures were way too small. Fuck! I needed to go to my office and pull them up on the big computer screen.

I backed up, and sped out of the parking lot. My head was about to explode. How the fuck did she do this? I didn’t get drunk; I knew that. I’m a large guy, and it would take a lot
of alcohol to get me blackout drunk. She must have slipped something in my drink, that’s all I could think. I looked passed out on the bed, but it was impossible to tell. I arrived at my office and remembered about Katie’s coffee. She was waiting for me. I called her, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

“Hey, Kat, I remembered I needed to pick something up at the office. I’ll be a little while if you can wait.”

Thankfully, she didn’t mind. I ran into my office and shut and locked the door behind me. I was alone, but I was so paranoid it seemed the best thing to do. I emailed the pictures to myself. I created a file on a jump drive so I could delete them from my computer. I knew this meant yet another new phone and number for me. Shit.

The pictures were loading onto my monitor, and my heart started to race. I still couldn’t tell if I’d had an erection, but she was molding herself around my body to certainly make it look like we were having sex. My stomach lurched again and I grabbed the garbage can and dry heaved. That didn’t do much for my headache. I was almost blinded by the blood pulsating behind my eyes. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

The woman drugged me, and took photos of us appearing to have sex. I assumed she had set up a tripod, too. The only reason I could think for why she would do something like that is blackmail, but why? What purpose would it serve? She doesn’t need money, or a job. I can’t do any favors for her. I just didn’t get it. Then it hit me. Maybe she wanted to use the photos as insurance against any accusations I might make to the cops. She seemed to know every move I made. When I first went to the police, she had to know they would dismiss the first few photos, but these pictures from the hotel were incriminating. My P.I. had found out that her father is a powerful judge in Boston, so she could drop names and get things done.