My mind was all over the place while driving back up to the resort. It would think about one thing, and then, suddenly, it would go to another. And everything that kept coming to mind had me feeling happy, excited, thrilled, and loved. Or, confused.

Ian makes me happy. And I love how he does anything and everything to ensure that I am and keeps me that way when we're together.

I'm excited about how many paintings I have sold thus far, how art dealers throughout the country are begging for more, and how much the world seems to love my work.

I'm thrilled to know I'm finally making money from my artistic talents and thrilled to possibly be offering some of my other paintings to show and sell to the entire world.

Ian makes me feel loved, more loved than I've ever felt in my entire life.

Sad to say, but it's true.

Then, there's this. I'm confused about what happened with Ian last night. Ian asked me to marry him after our incredible lovemaking session, and my response to him has me wishing I had responded differently. And the more I think about my answer, the more upset I become with myself. And it has me thinking I should have said maybe, or we'll see, or even let's talk about this later. But, I also feel I should have said something like it's too soon to think about something this early in our relationship.

The look on Ian's face when I said no went directly through my eyes and straight into my heart. I hurt him, which hurt me. And that was something I didn't wish to do. Ian's been good to me, almost too good, that he didn't deserve the answer I gave him.

And the reason I feel that way is that I think about having a future with Ian all the time. Every night I dream about it. Every day, including all day long, my mind has me wondering what it would be like to be married to him, what our kids would look like, what our grandkids would look like, and everything else that comes with marriage.

Now I fear that telling him no was a huge mistake. And that he'll never ask for me to be his lifelong partner ever again. But I also think about how he asked me to marry him on a whim. And without a ring. So, my mind and heart also feel Ian shouldn't be that upset about my answer, either.

Maybe I'm overthinking this, but what else can you do while driving a three-plus-hour drive besides listening to music? You think about everything you possibly can—something I should have done weeks ago instead of going to the Dells by myself.

Thankfully, Ian stayed behind instead of driving me like he originally wanted to do because I needed this time to think about what took place yesterday evening and last night. However, I feel a little guilty for taking off in a hurry, like I did when Ian kept saying there was something he wanted to talk to me about.

Sensing he wanted to talk about asking me to marry him, and how I didn't feel like talking about it, I left.

Typical me always seems to be running away from my issues instead of facing them. But, on the other hand, I technically didn't run away, either. I still needed to get back to the resort to grab my paintings for Isaac and Andrew's Monday morning presentation.

Ian must have been timing my drive because the second I walked into the trailer, a message from him came in.

Ian: Are you planning on coming back tonight or tomorrow?

Me: I'm a little tired, so I was sort of thinking about heading back to your house tomorrow. But if you want me to, I can always still come back tonight.

Ian: No, that's okay. I think it would be best that you come back in the morning, anyway. That's a lot of driving for one day. And we didn't get much sleep last night.

My eyebrows drew together. Usually, Ian would have responded with a please come back as soon as possible, because I can't take another minute without you.

Me: Is something wrong?

Ian: No, nothing is wrong. But there is some stuff I still need to talk to you about. Something I wish you would have let me do before you left.

Reading this suddenly has my heart thumping hard. As it almost sounds, like Ian wants to break up with me.

Shit...

Now more than ever, I wish I would have thought about saying what I did before it came out of my mouth.

Damn it, Tawny, you need to learn how to think before you speak...

Me: If it's about you proposing to me and what my answer was, I want you to know, I'm very, very sorry. I didn't mean to say no the way I did.

Ian: I also told you to forget about what came out of my mouth before we fell asleep. Anyway, no, it's not about that. Just some important stuff I need to discuss with you.

I nervously began scratching the top of my head as I repeatedly read Ian's last message, trying to figure out what could be so important he needed to talk to me about.

Me: Enlighten me, please.

Ian: When you get back into town, we'll talk. I'm not discussing anything I need to say over the phone or via text messaging.

Now Ian has me worried. He sounds off.

Very off...

Me: Are you sure there's nothing wrong and that you're okay?

Ian: Not really, but I will be okay once you get back here and I get to see that beautiful face of yours.

Whew, now that doesn't sound like he wants to break up with me. But whatever it is that he needs to talk about still doesn't sound good.

Me: I'll leave first thing in the morning.

Ian: When you get here, don't knock. Please use the key I gave you.

Me: See you tomorrow. I love you.

After hitting send, my lips stretched back tight. Nervous to see how Ian will respond. Worried, he fell out of love with me after denying him my hand.

Ian: Oh, sugar lips, I love you too. More than you ever know. I'll see you tomorrow.

An instant feeling of relief ran through me after seeing he still called me sugar lips and that he loved me. However, I still had a bad feeling in my stomach after noticing a different tone in Ian's messages.

Maybe I'm reading into the messages wrong and that it's nothing, but still, a tiny part of me is hinting that something is wrong.

Not wanting to rack my brain any more than I've been since leaving Ian's place, I decided to stop thinking as hard as I was and set my phone on the counter. Then I headed to the upper loft to grab my paintings out of the closet. I opened the closet door, and as I reached towards the paintings, I heard someone knock on the door.

I stepped back, then turned towards the window next to the door, saw Hannah, and yelled, "Come in!"

"I saw you drive in and figured to stop by to see how things went last night," Hannah excitedly said as she entered.

I walked to the loft railing and looked down as she was looking up. "What are you referring to?" I asked, hoping it wasn't about Ian proposing.

Hannah's hands gripped her hips, then furrowed her brows, looking confused. "What am I referring to? I was referring to the sales of your painting, of course! What did you think I was wondering about?"

I slowly shook my head. "I have no idea; that's why I asked. But to be honest, I didn't know you knew what last night's dinner was about."

She giggled. "Are you kidding me? How could I not know? Ian was so happy and excited once he got the news that he called to tell me all about it." She started walking towards me. "That man is so damn proud of you and your accomplishments," she said, heading up the steps. "that it's all he wants to talk about lately. Besides, about how much in love with you he is," she snickered.

He was in an excellent mood yesterday, and since the reasoning behind his good mood was about the success of my painting, I can see why he called his sister. I would have done the same thing. However, I felt somewhat more at ease and liked how the nerves in my stomach were feeling much calmer after hearing Hannah say Ian talks about his love for me.

"Ian tells me how much he loves me quite a bit," I admitted coyly.

"This is the first time I've seen my brother in love like he is now. Although, of course, he may have been engaged to that one wench, thinking and acting like he was in love with her all those years," she paused and shook her head. "But I know better; it wasn't love. It was only lust. With you, I see and can feel the love he has for you."

Did Ian put her up to this? Because this sounds more like an emotional appeal to change my mind about Ian's proposal.

Curious to know what she all knows, I sat next to her on the bed and asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything," she smiled.

"When was the last time you talked to Ian?"

"This morning. Why?"

"Can I ask what the two of you talked about?"

A confused or worried look crossed her face. "Ian said that you were on your way up here to grab some of your paintings to bring back to his place," she admitted, studying my face. Her eyes widened. "Wait. Did something bad happen between you and my brother?"

My head shook. "Not that I'm aware of. I'm only curious as to what Ian said about me."

"Nothing really. Other than why you were coming here." She continued studying my face, then her lips twisted before asking, "Did you two break up or something?"

Whew.

Another relief Hannah seems to not know about Ian's whim proposal.

I shook my head. "No. But when I arrived here, I received some weird messages from him. And he sounded a bit off."

Her hand waved across her face, blowing off my concern. "Knowing Ian, something probably happened at one of the businesses back home, and it's weighing his mind down. Don't worry; I'm sure it's nothing."

Yeah right. I've heard this once before from Hannah. And the last time she said the same was when Ian went missing for the day, all because of my father. So, whatever he has to talk to me about, better not be because of him. Because if it is, I'm not so sure I can take much more about that situation. My father knows where I stand, and I refuse to allow him to take me down any more than he did.

I inhaled deeply, held it, then let it all out. "If you say so," I breathed, sounding unsure.

"I'm totally sure. You should know that I've been through this many times with him, and if something is going on at one of his business locations where he doesn't want to talk about it, he acts like a nincompoop," she giggled. "What I mean is, when Ian doesn't feel like expressing he's angry about something, he'll try hiding it, which he's not good at doing. Not at all."

Hmm... maybe I should take a nap and go back to Ian's tonight.

Hannah reached for my hands, then held them tight, insisting I look at her. "I see the wheels turning in that mind of yours. So what I need you to do is halt those spinning wheels by pressing hard on that damn brake pedal. If Ian sounded off to you, then hop in that beautiful vehicle he bought you and see what's up. Because when I talked to him, he was fine. But if you feel Ian isn't himself, then something could have happened since I spoke to him, and you need to find out what that is and help him fix whatever it is."

I squeezed Hannah's hands tighter. "I think I'll grab these paintings, and then I'll head back to see what's bothering Ian. It can't be that bad, right?"

"Right," she smiled, then the corners of her lips curved higher. "But before you leave, I want to see these paintings before Ian sees them. He told me your artwork is extraordinarily sensational, excitedly saying how detailed your work is and that the way you paint looks like it's an actual picture had been taken. So I'm curious to see what he's talking about. Plus, you always told me you'd show me. So, show me..." she happily said, quickly standing.

***

Again, as I drive and drink coffee to stay awake, I find myself doing what I always do, thinking the worst. How can I not, though? But, seriously? Besides the miraculous selling of my painting, thanks to Ian. What else has ever gone right in my life?

God, I'm such a Debbie Downer.

What I need to do is think positively.

Think positive, Tawny.

Just do it.

You can do it...

Finally, I arrived at Ian's, grabbed my paintings, and then went inside. I walked around the house, checking rooms while calling for him, and when he didn't answer, I walked to the door leading to the garage, opened it, then peeked my head inside and saw his car was gone.

Of course, he isn't here.

I headed back into the house and into the kitchen, where I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and took one long swallow as I walked over to the center island and looked at a piece of paper on the counter, thinking it was a note Ian had wrote for me. But it wasn't. It was a bunch of scribbling and doodling, along with the word 'fuck' written boldly and angrily numerous times.

Huh...

Seeing how he wrote fuck all over the sheet of paper had me wondering if it was about me. Then I thought of something Hannah had said and the tone in Ian's messages, hoping she was right. About possible business issues.

I was feeling sluggish and tired, so I grabbed my paintings, set each one of them against the back of the couch for Ian to see, then walked around, stretched myself out on the sofa, and momentarily closed my eyes. Then, just as I was about to go into a deep sleep, the doorbell rang.

Ugh.

It never fails. Why is it every time you wish to get some rest, you're interrupted?

The doorbell rang again, so I tiredly and reluctantly walked to the front door, yelling, "I'm coming!" I opened the door, then rubbed my eyes to focus after seeing a woman staring and smiling at me. "Can I help you?" I asked groggily.

The woman's lips turned upward into a devilish smile. "Yes, you can. You're exactly who I came here looking for."

Without an invitation, she walked right in, and as she walked by with an ugly smile, it hit me on who she was.

Alexandra...

"Why are you looking for me?" I asked, closing the door.

She spun on her heel, still grinning dryly. "Is Ian not here?"

I wish he were. Especially now.

"No."

"Oh? Where is he?"

I wish I knew.

"I-I'm not exactly sure," I stuttered, feeling uncomfortable. Alexandra's here, and Ian isn't. "Did you need to see him as well?"

"No. Just you," she happily said.

Now I'm becoming more irritated. Who barges into someone's home uninvited? And into one where the homeowner isn't here?

"Look, I'm tired, and it would be nice to go back to doing what I was before you interrupted, which was sleeping. So, whatever you need, say what it is, and then I'd like for you to get out," I snapped, angrily crossing my arms against my chest.

"Fine. I want you to sell me your original painting."

Who does she think she is? I already told her no, as did Ian.

"No. Not a chance."

She evilly laughed as she walked towards me. "Oh, Tawny. Everyone has a price. Just name it, and Jefferson and I will pay it."

I furrowed my brows. "Why do you want that painting so bad? It's nothing special. And it's not like I'm Pablo Picasso or Leonardo da Vinci, where that painting is worth millions like their paintings are."

She laughed again.

"Do you have any idea about who bought your painting five times more than the asking price?"

"No, and I don't care. All I care about is that it sold. So whoever bought it, I hope they're enjoying it hanging in their living room, or wherever they decided to hang it."

"You'll be happy to hear that it was Jefferson that bought it, and he has it proudly hanging in our bedroom, right above the bed. So you see, by him paying above the listed price, it was to show how much he's willing to pay for the original. Now that you know he will pay anything, what will you sell it for?"

These people are unbelievable.

My mouth dropped, and my hands fell fast to my hips. "Be happy with the copy, then. Because the original is still not for sale. No matter what you and he are willing to pay."

She invaded my space by stepping forward and stopping. "If you refuse to sell, we'll sue. For defamation, of course," Alexandra said, smiling cruelly.

"Defamation? For what?"

"That man in the painting is the non-other, Jefferson Thomas, my husband."

I laughed. "Like we're supposed to believe that. You can't even tell who it was!"

She laughed and then began walking around, swinging her jacket with her finger. "Oh, that was Jefferson all right. You see, after getting word Ian was after the woman who was involved in an accident with him, we did some digging on you. Then, after discovering you dropped out of art school and got word of what kind of artist you were, we began following you.

What the fuck?

"That night, he saw you sitting outside painting, where he stood watching your every move. Once he realized you were painting the view in front of you, he stepped into your line of sight. Jefferson knows Ian well and well enough to know how much he enjoys artwork that has to do with the outdoors. After talking with others who know you, he knew Ian would do what he could to make that painting be known to art lovers throughout the world. And he did," she added, turning to face me.

These are sick and demented people.

Who goes around following people? And me, of all people!

Alexandra looked away from me, and to the paintings I left out for Ian to see. "Wow." She turned to me. "Are those yours?"

"Yes, and those are not for sale, either," I hissed. I walked to the door and opened it. "It's time for you to leave."

She looked away from me and over at my paintings. "If you don't want to be sued, I suggest you do as we ask and sell us that painting." She turned around then started walking towards me, grinning from ear to ear. "You do realize that Jefferson will break you by suing for every penny he can. Way more than what Ian had done to you." Before stepping out the door, she stopped and turned to me. "We all know you can't afford to lose any more than what you have already. We'll give you until Friday to decide what you're going to do."

Where the hell is Ian?

Alexandra finally stepped out, and as I was closing the door, her arm blocked the door from closing. "One more thing," she happily said.

"What?" I hissed.

A devilish smile formed on her beautiful yet ugly face. "If you honestly have no idea where Ian is and are curious to know where he'd be on a Saturday night, then I recommend you go to the Erotic Playground. I can guarantee you those beautiful paintings over there; that's where he is."

My beating heart paused, and my breathing hitched. "What?"

"He never told you about that place, has he?" she laughed. "Honestly, that doesn't surprise me one bit. He hid it from me too."

"What about it?" I breathed, remembering the time I ran into him there.

Without answering what I wanted to know, she turned around and laughed as she walked away. "Girl, if you do go there tonight, you'll be in for one hell of a surprise!"

I stood in the doorway feeling like a fool as I watched Alexandra walk away, wondering if this was one of Ian's businesses that he'd not told his sister or mother about. If it is, that'll explain a lot about the night; Skye and I were there and how he said the club would never throw him out.

Curiosity got the best of me. I ran back into the house, grabbed my keys, and then bolted out the door faster than one could say, Jack Robinson.

Usually, I'm not a speeder, always afraid to be ticketed. But tonight? I didn't care. I needed to see what Alexandra was trying to tell me. Is it the third business he owns? Or worse? He goes there to meet brazen women, willing to join him in one of those rooms to engage in the BDSM activity.

My mind concluded that since Ian has only been making love to me lately, instead of having the type of sex he introduced me to, he was in one of those rooms, having bondage sex with a more exciting woman than me. So, getting to the club even faster, I stepped on the gas pedal harder.

By the time I got to the playground, I didn't care where I had parked and ended up parking in front of the club. Not caring, there was a sign saying no parking.

"Miss! You can't park there!" A bouncer standing outside the doorway yelled.

My feet had a mind of their own, and as I headed to the door, they stomped. "Tow it then," I snapped, reaching for the door.

The bouncer's arm extended out, blocking me from going inside. "Tonight, the only way you're able to go in is if you're on the list. If you're not on the list, I recommend you get back in that car before I have it towed."

"As I said, you can tow the damn car. I have some business to take care of," I hissed, evilly glaring at him.

"Name?"

"Tawny Kincaid."

His eyes widened as he looked at the clipboard. I wasn't sure if he recognized my name or was trying to see the names on the clipboard without using his tiny flashlight. Then, he asked, "Who are you?"

"I said, Tawny Kincaid," I barked. "You can look all you want; you'll never find me on that stupid list. And I'm not on that fucking list because I don't fucking come here. BUT. There is someone inside that I do need to see."

He looked up, and without saying a word, he opened the door. But as I stepped inside, he surprised me. "For future references, you're on the list."

Of course, I am.

This only tells me that Ian owns this place.

I had no idea where to go or where even to look. Because the last time I was here, Skye was pulling me around. I wandered around the crowded place, trying not to look at what everyone inside was wearing, all while trying to see if I could find Ian.

I finally ended up on the second floor, and as I walked around, looking, I noticed a familiar face working behind the bar and walked over to it. So now I know why Ian's brother seemed so familiar to me at the wedding. 

Arnie works here!

Arnie must not have realized who I was because when he walked over, he asked, "What can I get for the beautiful lady tonight?"

I glared at him.

His eyes squinted, then widened. "Tawny?"

"Where's Ian?" I demandingly asked.

Arnie hemmed and hawed for a bit, but then stopped when I reached across the bar, gripped hold of his shirt and tie, and pulled him to me, our noses practically touching. "Where the fuck is Ian?"

His arm extended out over me, then hesitantly said, "He's behind you, performing." With Arnie's shirt still in my hand, I turned my head and looked where he was pointing, saw Ian, then pushed Arnie away and began storming through the crowd, shoving anyone in my way away.

It's one thing to be surprised by fake people. But it's also another to be surprised and shocked by those supposed to be loyal to you. Because what I'm seeing, and who my eyes are on this very moment, is quite the hell of a fucking surprise.

My best friend and the one who is supposed to be my boyfriend, performing an act. Skye dressed in schoolgirl clothing, showing her cheeks as she bent over a desk, begging to be spanked, and Ian giving in to her demands.

I slowly stepped a couple of steps closer with my hands firmly gripping my hips, yelling, "How could you?!"

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!🤞🤞