PROXIMITY TORTURE

PROXIMITY TORTURE
Carl Graves' mansion was lit up like a palace that night, every chandelier and scones were glowing, accompanied with strings of soft white lights draped across the manicured lawn. 

Expensive cars lined the long driveway, sleek black SUV’s, honorable counts of Rolls Royce, a few vintage sports cars, and one obnoxious red Lamborghini that everyone knew belonged to California’s Mayor, whom Carl had been rubbing shoulders with recently. 

Guests in tuxedos and evening gowns spilled across the marble foyer and into the grand ballroom, with thier laughter and clinking glasses filling the air.

Cash stood in front of the full-length mirror in his old bedroom, tugging angrily at the knot of his black tie. He hated ties. He hated parties. He hated his family. And he hated that his father had forced him to bring Virginia as his date. 

The flight home from Oregon had been pure torture. Carl had sent over his jet and a few of his most trusted men to help Isabel “pack”. 

Isabel sat four rows ahead, pretending to read a magazine while Cash was cramped in the last row of seats, staring at the back of her head the whole time, frustrated he couldn’t touch her, be with her or even talk to her. 

Now, here they were, thrust into and trapped in Carl’s orchestrated spectacle and perfect world again. 

Cash yanked at his tie in the mirror, his reflection scowling back. “Fucking circus,” he muttered, grabbed the half-empty flask from his dresser, downded a swig of whiskey, slipped the flask into his pocket and sighed heavily before heading downstairs.

He would try to be civil tonight. Enough to show Carl he was stable enough to be sent back to Oregon with Isabel.

If Carl took him off this case, he would go mad with anger. Compared to how he felt when he was told he’d be going there the first time.

The ballroom was already crowded with California’s elite when Cash joined his father’s guests. Politicians in tailored suits, socialites dripping in jewels, the air thick with rich perfume and cigar smoke. 

Soft jazz played from the string quartet in the corner, waiters glided in crisp white shirts moved through the guests with silver trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.  

Cash spotted Virginia immediately, she was wearing a tight red dress that left little to the imagination with a plunging neckline that drew eyes to her. Her dark hair was swept up, diamonds flashing at her throat. 

She was scanning the room, and the moment her eyes zeroed in on him, her face lit up with a possessive smile.

“There you are,” she said, gliding over and looping her arm through his without asking. “Cash, baby, you look edible tonight,” she purred.

He stiffend and forced a smirk. “Yeah? You look… red.”

She laughed, tossing her hair. “Always the charmer. Where have you been? I’ve been waiting.”

Cash shrugged lazily. “Traffic.”

“That’s such a flimsy excuse Cash. For a moment, I thought you’re trying to avoid me.”

“Who knows” Cash shrugged again.

She laughed, too loud. “You’re funny. Come on, let’s grab drinks, I want to show you off”

He let her drag him towards the bar, but his eyes searched the room, scanning through the crowd to find his woman. 

His woman.

Cash found Isabel almost instantly. She was standing beside Carl near the grand staircase, wearing an elegant simple black dress that hugged her curvy figure perfectly. Her hair was down, red loose waves over her shoulders, cascading down her back. 

Carl never let Isabel leave his side. He introduced her to his rich friends, judges, old police colleagues, always with that proud, possessive smile. His hand rested possessively on her hip, while his thumb traced lazy circles as he chatted with a senator. 

Isabel’s smile was tight, and professional, but when her eyes met Cash’s across the room, heat sparked between them. Raw and unspoken longing that made his chest tighten. 

She bit her lip subtly, then looked away as Carl moved his hand to the small of her back, thanked the senator and guided her through the crowd like she belonged to him.

Virginia noticed. “Why is she looking at us like that?” she asked, her voice sharpening.

“I don’t know,” Cash grunted, signaling the bartender for a double whiskey.

All night, Carl kept Isabel glued to him. “Darling, meet Judge Harlan,” he’d say, pulling her closer, his breath hot on her ear as his hands roamed her body. 

“Mr Marco, this is Isabel. Isn’t she stunning?” He’d gloat.

“She's the best thing that ever happened to me. We’re getting married soon, right honey?” Isabel smiled politely, nodded, and made small talk. But her mind was elsewhere. 

On Cash, on the way his eyes devoured her from afar. Every stolen glance felt like an electric and forbidden touch.

Virginia, meanwhile, was a leech. 

She hung on Cash’s arm, interrupting any woman who dared approach him. This made Cash’s jaw tighten. 

She rested her chest on his arm, laughed at nothing and leaned in too close when she spoke. Virginia was talking, something about a trip to Paris, but Cash wasn’t listening. 

All he could see was Isabel glancing over, their eyes meeting across the room for a brief, aching second before she looked away.

The night dragged on.

When a young woman in a blue dress smiled at Cash and waved from across the bar, he smiled back. She was walking towards them and saying something to Cash before Virginia stepped in front of him, blocking Cash from the woman’s view.

The woman blinked, muttered an apology, and walked away.

Cash sighed and downed his drink in one go. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” Virginia asked innocently.

“Scare off every girl who looks at me.”

She smiled sweetly. “I’m just protecting what’s mine.”

“I’m not yours, Virginia. We broke up a long time ago” he said quietly.

Her smile faltered for a second, then came back sharper. “Not yet. I’m ready to start again when you’re ready, Cash”

Cash said nothing. Virginia was being adamant and there was nothing he could do, even though she was starting to get on his nerves.

Later a blonde lady in a silver dress smiled at him while he waited for another drink. “Hey, aren’t you Carl Graves' son? I love your…”

“Excuse me,” Virginia said sharply to the woman. “We’re talking.”

“But I wasn’t talking to you…”

“Back off,” Virginia snapped, stepping between them, her hand slid up Cash’s chest possessively. “He’s taken.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Shoo.” Virginia waved her off like a fly.

The woman walked away in embarrassment and Cash’s jaw clenched. “Virginia, you have to chill the fuck out.”

She turned to him, her eyes flashing. “What? I told you I’m just marking my territory.”

“There is no territory to mark here. You’re being a bitch,” he said flatly, peeling her hand off him.

Her face twisted, but she recovered with a sultry pout. “Come on, Cash. Let’s dance, loosen up.”

He shook his head. “I’m not in the mood.”

But she grabbed his hand anyway, pulling him to the dance floor. The jazz music swelled so slow, and sensual. 

Virginia pressed against him, her body molding to his, she ground her  hips on him so romantically as they swayed. “Feel that?” she whispered, her lips brushed his ear. “We were so good together.”

Cash’s skin crawled. He glanced over her shoulder and saw that Isabel was watching them. Her expression was unreadable, but the jealousy in her eyes was clear. 

He wanted to shove Virginia away, cross the room, and pull Isabel into his arms instead. Feel her heat, her curves, the way she’d melt against him. But Carl’s grip on her was ironclad.

“Stop,” Cash muttered, stepping back from his date.

But Virginia clung tighter. “Why? Afraid you’ll fall harder in love me?”

He pried her off him with a rough shove “I said stop.” Frustration boiled in him, he turned and stormed out through the French doors that led to the terrace.

Cash had left Virginia standing by the bar with her mouth open. He didn’t care. He needed air. And he was breathing hard by the time he slipped into the garden. 

The cool night air helped a little, but it was not enough. Cash leaned against the stone railing, with clenched fists. Inside, through the glass, he saw Virginia fuming, reaching for another drink.

When he went back inside twenty minutes later, Virginia found him again almost immediately. She didn’t mention him walking out. She just took his arm and kept talking.

Cash drank steadily. Nursing glasses of Whiskey after whiskey, trying to ignore Virginia. 

By midnight, he was leaning against a wall in the corner, glass in hand, watching her from across the room. Isabel caught his eye again. 

God, she was beautiful. Her dress was dipped low enough to tease the swell of her breasts.

As their gazes locked, heavy with want, she shifted, crossing her legs, and he imagined running his hands up her thighs, hearing her gasp his name, going on his knees as she told him how to love her. 

But she was still beside Carl and every time their eyes met, it was like a punch to the chest. The tension was pure torture, and frustration.

Then Carl took the stage, tapping the mic. The music stopped, guests turned and the room hushed.