Page 4 of Not About That Life
Two
We spent the remaining afternoon exploring different parts of Atlanta. I’d never been here so everything was new to me and Ian was willing to show me the touristy spots and a few hidden places he’d known.
We went to the Coca-Cola center because Ian knew how much I love Coke, despite he doesn’t drink it. He did try my Coke float, though the look on his face told me it’ll probably be the last time he’ll have it.
We then went to the High Museum of Art and Ian tried to blend in with everyone, but was spotted the morning we arrived. At first, he hated the intrusion of our privacy, but appreciated how the art curators gave us a private tour of the facilities.
Our last stop was at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. As we explored nature and the wonderful creation of God, two burly men who were casually dressed followed us at a close distance. We never had security before and this was something unexpected, but given recent events, it wasn’t a complete surprise.
“How long are they going to be with us?” I ask as we admired an exhibit at the Botanical Garden.
“Not long,” he stood behind me and admired the Cascades Garden, “this is to ensure no one tries anything.”
I know I wasn’t supposed to be scared but Ian’s voice didn’t make it sound like I should be carefree about the potential danger I was in. My chest tightens and I release a small breath. I decided to refocus my worry on a question that had been gnawing at me since the confrontation a few days ago. “How do you know Senator Edwards?”
“His father-in-law, Dimitri Papadakis, and my father are very good friends. They’ve always been very close.” Ian pauses. “Jay’s wife, Sanora, taught me a lot about BDSM.”
A woman teaching a man about BDSM? I don’t think I’ve read that in the books. “So, she was your Dominant?”
“Yes, you can say that,” he softly grins, “she taught me everything I needed to know.”
I’m wildly curious at whateverythingactually means. I hold off on pursuing further discussion as I caught a glimpse of the security strolling nearby. “Will anyone come after you because of what happened?”
“When you’re a Ferguson, you’re always a target.” He casually replies. It’s clear it’s something he’s used to, though he hates it. His relentless drive for success and to be the best at what he does would make anyone target him specifically, even if they have no clue about this familial connection. “It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t your fault. The simple fact you exist makes people wonder how close can they actually get.”
I soak in the information and wonder how much of it did Ian had to go through in his thirty-six years on earth. It must’ve been a ride knowing your name was synonymous with wealth and power, even if you didn’t know a quarter of the story. Even if you simply didn’t care. It explains why Ian was always on holiday somewhere and never truly present at the family board meetings unless he had to be there.
I think back to our spontaneous day trip. While drama and obligations awaited us back in Los Angeles, we were able to enjoy each other and Atlanta without questions or anyone else bothering us. I did have an unshakeable feeling we were being watched. I imagine we’ll make the gossip blogs before the day ends.
“You seem bored with your life,” I cautiously reply.
“I was before,” he moved away and my body moaned at the loss of him. I’m already addicted to his touch and like a junkie, I need another fix. He stood beside me with his back pressed against the railing. “I’m not anymore.” He glanced over at me.
Crimson filled my cheeks. “I still don’t know what I can offer you?”
He pulls me closer to him and cups my cheek. I look into his eyes and see the vulnerability and rawness within them. It’s a look he only gives me, and no one else. “You understand me. Other women understood the Ferguson name and what it meant in terms of money and power. You understoodme.”
I chew my bottom lip and stare into his deep blue eyes. “I’m still trying to understand you. Sometimes you’re hard to read.”
“Sometimes it’s the person reading the book,” his eyes cut to me with such a deep sexual intensity, I’m amazed we’re still clothed, “and sometimes it’s a complex book to get through.”
His answer doesn’t help. “Will I need Cliffs notes?”
“I’ve never kept secrets from you and I don’t plan to start,” he replies. “You offer everything to me. You want me to teach you, but you’re also teaching me.”
I slightly chuckle at that. “What am I teaching you? Bryson Tiller, Migos, and Lil’ Yachty?” His eyes draw a blank. “Trap music.” I clarify.
“You’re teaching me there’s a world out there beyond stuffy and pretentious galas, sunbathing on a yacht, and all of that other bullshit rich people do.” He smiles and I see those delicious dimples. “You teach me the best things in life are free. You’ve saved me, angel, in many ways. I owe my everything to you.”
Tears threaten to come out but I force them at bay when I hear his declaration to me. For years, he made me feel like a twelve year old who was entertaining a crush on a boy band member, when he setting everything in stone. It’s overwhelming yet surprisingly beautiful.
It’s amazing how effortlessly he steals my breath away with just a few words. He never speaks more than he has to, so when he does say something, he truly means it. I don’t think I can ever get used to his compliments and I don’t want to.
I slowly look around and see the crowd is becoming less as people are starting to leave. “We need to head out, honey.”
“No, we’re fine here.” He briefly looks up and I follow his lead. He simply nods to the man behind me, who returns the nod before he speaks into a microphone and quickly leaves.
My stomach cinches in nervousness. “Who was that?”
