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A Piece of Paper With Your Name On It Monica Benitez Online Ebook Texxtbook Full Chapter PDF
A Piece of Paper With Your Name On It Monica Benitez Online Ebook Texxtbook Full Chapter PDF
Mónica Benítez
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilog
Books By This Author
Books By This Author
Books By This Author
A Piece of Paper with your Name on it
MÓNICA BENÍTEZ
Copyright © 2023 Mónica Benítez
All rights reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced
in any form or by any means without the express permission of
the author. This includes, but is not limited to, reprints,
excerpts, photocopying, recording, or any other means of
reproduction, including electronic media.
All characters, situations between them and events appearing in
the book are entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to persons,
living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.
https://monicabenitez.es
Twitter: @monicabntz
Instagram: mbenitezlibros
Chapter 1
Regan
“Mind if I crash here?” Nicky peers out from beneath the sheet,
her chin resting just above my hip. I think that’s her name, but I
don’t ask. Instead, a laugh bubbles up from me.
“You think I’m one of those who will boot you out of the
hotel room as soon as the fun’s over?” I tease, still riding the
tail end of ecstasy.
“Well, fame can make people jerks,” she retorts.
Nicky slithers up my body and kisses me before I can
answer. Her tongue, bold and invading, carries the taste of my
arousal into my mouth. She grabs my hand, insistently guiding it
between her legs. As soon as I touch her, her moans heat my
ear, her body arching into mine. When she returns to my lips,
she sucks on my lower one so fiercely that I taste blood from a
gentle bite at the peak of her climax.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, exhausted, collapsing beside me.
I turn my head, smiling, and assess the bite with my
tongue. It’s nothing serious. I grab one of the plush hotel
pillows, propping it under my head to check my phone before
sleep. Nicky turns towards me, hugging another pillow, her eyes
curious.
“Plan on coming back around here?” she asks, her voice a
mix of hope and uncertainty.
I shrug, my mind drifting. I met her at the club where I was
DJing tonight. I’m a well-known DJ, refusing to be tied to one
place. I pick gigs that suit me, spending the rest of my time
relaxing and living life. Most gigs are at fancy parties thrown by
high-society types who invite hundreds just for show, even if
they really know maybe twenty of them.
“Honestly, I don’t think I’ll be back for a while,” I admit.
It’s not a lie to say I dread coming to Miami. The clubs are
always packed, and sometimes the crowd overwhelms me. But
the pay is good, and occasionally, I take a gig here.
“I’m actually from Malibu. Came here just to see you spin. I
love your style,” she says, her smile genuine.
“I live in Malibu, too,” I confess, surprised. Nicky’s eyebrows
shoot up.
“Really? Well, I’ll leave you my number before I go. Maybe
we can hang out sometime.”
“That’d be great,” I say, and her laugh, followed by a roll of
her eyes, lights up the room.
Nicky leaps out of bed, her naked form gliding across the
cool hardwood floor to her bag. She rummages for a pen, a
purposeful dance of bare skin and morning light. Meanwhile, I
reopened an email on my phone, the invitation to the River Park
High School reunion in Boston looming like a ghost from the
past.
“Talking to someone?” Nicky collapses beside me, mischief
twinkling in her eyes as she leans in, trying to peek at the
screen. Instinctively, I angle it away, but it’s all in good fun.
“Just reading an email,” I reply, my voice flat.
“It must be crucial for you to open it at this ungodly hour,”
she observes, a hint of concern lacing her words.
“It’s nothing, just an invitation,” I dismiss, even as the
weight of it settles in my chest.
“For what?” she inquires, pulling the sheet around her as a
shiver runs down her spine.
“A high school reunion dinner I’d rather avoid,” I confess,
the screen now dark.
“Why?” Her curiosity deepens, her brows knitting together.
“Let’s just say high school wasn’t the best of times,” I admit,
feeling the old wounds throb. “There was someone who hurt me
back then.”
“And she’ll be there?” she probes further, her expression
serious now.
“Most likely.”
“You should go,” she asserts suddenly, flinging the sheet
back with such force that it leaves us both exposed. She
straddles me, and despite my exhaustion, a spark of arousal
flickers within me.
“On a scale of one to ten, how badly did she hurt you?” Her
gaze is intense, challenging.
“Fifteen,” I answer, and her eyebrow arches in surprise.
“That’s a lot of hurt, and all the more reason to go. Come
on, you’re Regan Jensen,” she says, noting my confused look,
“one of the hottest DJs around. You’re successful, smart, and
damn, you look good,” she adds, her eyebrows wiggling for
emphasis. “Show them that whatever they did, it didn’t break
you. It made you stronger.”
“You don’t know if I’m smart or strong. You don’t know me,”
I chuckle.
“Of course I do. You chose me out of all those people hitting
on you tonight. That’s a move of sheer brilliance,” she boasts
playfully. “But seriously, if you don’t go, she wins. You can’t let
that happen.”
“How do you know it’s a ‘she’?” I ask, amused by her
assumption.
Nicky looks me up and down and laughs. “You’re way too
into women to be hung up over a guy.”
“Guess I’m an open book...”
“Seriously, though. You should go just to show her what
she’s missing.”
I look at Nicky, unblinking, as her suggestion suddenly
seems intriguing. I always knew she regretted what she did.
Maybe it’s time to remind her of what we could have had if she
hadn’t been such a coward.
“You’re right, I should go. It’s just a few hours,” I decide,
conviction settling in my voice.
“I like that. Now, open your legs.”
Chapter 2
Moira
Regan
I seize my last free morning to surf on one of Malibu’s beaches.
Waking up early, as I usually do on my days off, I catch the first
waves of the day before the beach swells with people. Perched
on my board, letting it float between my legs, I let the tide rock
me gently as I wait for the right wave. The wetsuit shields my
body, but my feet start to chill immediately. Still, I don’t move,
remaining there, contemplative, glancing towards the hill where
my house stands, feeling utterly content.
“It’s too calm today,” comes the voice of Álvaro, a young
Spanish student I’ve met several mornings here. He’s from
Mundaka, a Basque town where surfing is a way of life.
“Patience,” I tell him, seeing his disappointed face. “Just
give it a few minutes; you’ll see.”
Álvaro smiles, lies flat on his board, and paddles to pass the
time. I gaze back at my house as if saying goodbye, because
this is the last night I spend here. Moira Evans and I will be
heading to Tyler and Rebecca’s for a whole week tomorrow
morning. The thought makes me smile; Moira’s horrified look
when she realized I wouldn’t help in her effort to decline the
offer was priceless. I plan to make that face a daily occurrence
until I leave.
“Regan!”
Álvaro’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. I turn to him and
see him pointing excitedly at the waves forming in the distance.
“You were right,” he says, thrilled.
“Of course I was,” I joke, lying down on my board and
paddling towards the waves.
“The first one’s always for the best, and that’s not me,” he
admits, gesturing for me to go ahead.
He means the second wave; they always come in sets of
three, and the first is usually passed over.
I wink at him as I pass by, get ready, and stand on the
board at just the right moment. Seconds later, I’m riding at full
speed, the wave’s arch enveloping me, letting me enter that
tube where I disconnect from everything.
Half an hour later, I’m in my Jeep, driving home. I check my
watch and huff. I’m meeting Nicky for breakfast, and time’s
gotten away from me. I’m still drying my hair after my shower
when Nicky, the woman I met a few days ago, rings the
doorbell.
“You surf too?” Nicky asks by way of greeting, nodding
towards the board still strapped to the back of my Jeep.
I nod and step aside to let her in.
“I love riding the waves, too,” she says, pausing before me.
An awkward moment hangs in the air as neither of us
knows how to properly greet each other. I’m not used to having
any of my lovers over, especially not at my place. But Nicky, she
sparked some kind of trust in me, and before leaving the hotel,
I promised to fill her in about the alumni dinner fiasco.
“Let’s be clear and avoid awkward moments like this,” she
says, dropping the breakfast bag on the entryway table.
“And what needs clarifying?” I ask, a bit haughtily, running
my fingers through my hair in an attempt to tame it.
“I didn’t come just to talk, and we both know it,” she
whispers, tugging playfully at my shirt collar.
“Right, we also planned to have breakfast,” I retort, and she
grins mischievously.
“And to fuck, don’t forget that,” she adds, giving me a
gentle push with the hand resting between my breasts, then
grabs the bag and looks around.
“The kitchen’s that way,” I point to the back door, surprised
by how Nicky makes everything seem so easy.
“Come on, after surfing, you must be starving.”
“I won’t deny that,” I admit, following her as if she were the
host.
Nicky spreads an array of pastries across the table while I
squeeze some oranges, recalling Tyler’s ridiculous joke.
“So, how was the dinner?”
My lover, and possibly future friend, takes a sip of the juice
I’ve just poured her, then stuffs half a donut in her mouth. I
watch her chew with difficulty, laughing, and grab a donut for
myself.
“More fun than I expected,” I explain, and she finally
swallows.
“Sorry, sometimes I eat like a savage,” she laughs, taking
another bite of the donut, more delicately this time, then licks
the sugar off her fingers.
“I ran into this old classmate I had issues with in the past,
and we ended up pretending to be a couple because she was
embarrassed that everyone else had brought a date.”
“Really?” Nicky asks, surprised.
I nod, and she laughs before leaning forward curiously.
“Did you sleep with her?”
Nicky’s eyes narrow, her expression turning as mischievous
as it is sensual.
“Does it bother you?” I challenge her, mirroring her look.
“Not at all. I know you and I aren’t heading down the aisle.
You’re not my type, you know?” Nicky asks, and I laugh, both
surprised and appreciative of her bluntness.
“You’re breaking my heart here. I thought a second date
meant I should start planning our wedding,” I jest.
“I prefer it this way, casual encounters. Expecting things
from people is exhausting, so I decided a while ago to only
expect things from myself.”
“Bad experience?” I ask, my tone shifting to serious.
“Not exactly. Just experiences that left me feeling empty. So,
you didn’t sleep with her?” she asks thoughtfully, wrapping up
her explanation about herself.
“No, but now I have to pretend we’re a couple for an entire
week, and that’s a bit unsettling.”
“Pretend?”
Nicky’s eyebrows shoot up, and I fill her in on Tyler and
Rebecca’s proposition over the next few minutes.
“They’re actually interested in Moira, but since they think
we’re a couple and she couldn’t deny it, I got roped in, too,” I
say, laughing. Nicky claps, amused as if she’s just watched a
hilarious play.
“I think you owe me one,” she muses, looking intently at
me. “Thanks to my pushing you to go to that dinner, you’re
getting paid a fortune to spend a week in a luxury villa where
you barely have to lift a finger, and you’ll get to hook up with a
woman so obsessed with appearing perfect, she lies to
everyone, including herself.”
I lower my gaze to the table, her perspective suddenly
casting Moira’s life in a more dismal light. How can she live like
that? Does she enjoy anything at all?
“Did I say something wrong?” Nicky asks, noticing my
distraction.
“No, not at all. How about I show you my couch?” I
suggest, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously. She grins
mischievously. “I find it very comfortable,” I add, standing up
with a seductive air.
“To be honest, I was thinking of fucking you right here, in
the kitchen.”
My heart races, and my breath quickens as she pats her
thighs, inviting me to sit astride her. I do so without hesitation,
wrapping my arms around her neck as she slides her hand
inside my pants, her fingers gently at first then more
demanding, pressing inside me. I let out sigh after sigh as she
nips at my lips, an orgasm building rapidly, as intense and quick
as the waves I rode this morning.
Nicky leaves in the mid-afternoon, after a day spent eating,
making love, and watching a movie whose title and plot I can’t
recall because she wouldn’t let me pay much attention.
“If you need a break from those snobby idiots at the villa,
call me. I’ll come to your rescue, your knight in shining armor.”
“I just might,” I admit, with genuine honesty.
“Take care, Regan,” Nicky says, kissing my lips before
slipping out and shutting the door behind her.
I return to the living room, tidying up and tossing the sofa
cover in the wash to cleanse the remnants of our encounter.
Once everything’s in order, I sink into a chair with my phone in
hand, scrolling to Moira’s contact. Hesitating for a moment, I
finally press the call button and wait patiently as it rings.
“What do you want?” Moira answers, her voice laced with
irritation. Clearly, her day hasn’t been as relaxing as mine.
“Tomorrow’s the big day. Aren’t you excited?” I tease her,
elbows resting on my knees.
“Cut the crap, Regan. I’m not in the mood. Tomorrow’s
work, nothing more. I hope you see it that way, too, or we’ll
have issues.”
“Work and pretending to love each other, don’t forget that.”
Moira huffs into the receiver, creating a harsh, static-filled
noise that makes me pull the phone away from my ear.
“Did you call just to say that?”
“No. I called because I thought we should meet somewhere
to head to the villa together, like a happy couple and all that.”
“A thoughtful gesture, but it’s not necessary. I’m going with
Kevin, my kitchen assistant. I need to bring some of my
equipment, and he’s part of that. We’ll arrive in the delivery van,
as if we’re coming from Maisy’s. No one will suspect a thing.
You can show up whenever you want, even at the last minute.
I’ll tell them you had to tie up some loose ends,” she says,
clearly trying to minimize my presence.
I smile to myself and shake my head. If she thinks I’ll make
this easy after everything I went through because of her, she’s
mistaken. I’m intent on making her uncomfortable around the
clock.
“I appreciate the thought, darling,” I say intentionally, “but
I’ll be there early to help you.”
“Don’t call me that,” she orders through clenched teeth
before hanging up.
Chapter 7
Moira
“Wow,” Kevin whistles as the iron gate swings open, granting us
access to the villa.
He navigates the delivery van along a cobblestone driveway
winding through trees, fountains, lamp posts, flowerbeds, and
benches sprawling across an outrageously vast estate. I can’t
deny the sheer splendor of it all – the façade of the enormous
villa is nothing short of breathtaking.
Kevin parks the van to the side, and Rebecca and Tyler
emerge to greet us as we step out.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Rebecca says, enveloping
me in a hug, while Tyler looks on, smitten and smiling like a
fool.
“This is Kevin, my assistant,” I introduce. “I mentioned he’d
be coming with me.”
“Nice to meet you,” Tyler says, shaking Kevin’s hand. “We’ve
prepared a room for him right across from yours.”
“Thank you.”
I’m surprised they haven’t asked about Regan yet, but then
I see her striding out of the mansion with a radiant smile and a
mischievous, teasing expression that sets my nerves on edge.
Her hands are casually in her pockets, her tousled hair fluttering
around her face, giving her a disarmingly seductive look. My
throat goes dry as she passes Rebecca, turning serious. My
heart races uncontrollably when she stops before me, suddenly
slipping an arm around my neck and pulling me close.
“Good to see you’ve arrived,” she whispers, feigning
delighted to see me.
I can’t reply because as I open my mouth to speak, she
seals it with a prolonged kiss that sends a tingling sensation
through my lips and stomach. When we break apart, we lock
eyes, and though I know I should say something, I’m too
stunned, standing with my mouth agape. Regan smiles at me
and strokes my neck before turning to Kevin, sizing him up
without hiding her surprise at his stature.
“Hey, Regan! Long time no see...” Kevin exclaims, playing
along with the story I’ve briefed him on.
I worry Regan will slip up, but she quickly throws her arms
around him, letting Kevin envelop her in a bear hug.
“My name’s Kevin,” I hear him whisper in her ear.
Regan laughs, playfully punches his chest, and winks at him.
“Well, now that we’re all here, I’ll show you where to park
the van. The staff will help with whatever you need,” Tyler says.
“I’ve got it, boss,” Kevin offers, and I grimace in horror.
“Let’s leave the ladies alone,” Tyler claps, walking away with
Kevin and leaving me alone with Regan and Rebecca.
“Come on, I’ll give you a quick tour of everything and then
show you to the guest house where your room is. Regan’s
luggage is already there, and yours will be brought shortly,”
Rebecca says, leading us around the side of the property.
She guides us with a smile, showing the tennis and padel
courts, a basketball court, and a small golf course. Then she
takes us to the back where two pools are situated - one for
summer and another covered and heated for winter. I watch
Regan, who looks around with a mix of awe and repulsion, as if
the opulence of the place is off-putting, even though she must
have amassed a good fortune by now.
“And now, my favorite spot,” Rebecca announces, zipping up
her puffer coat to her chin.
She leads us down a narrow stone path between trees,
which eventually clears to reveal steps descending to a
breathtaking private beach.
“Wow,” Regan breathes out next to me.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Rebecca beams, turning to us.
“It really is,” I admit, my gaze fixed on the yacht floating a
few meters offshore.
A vast pier juts out into the sea at one end of the beach,
with two small leisure boats anchored to it. I wonder about the
cost of such a construction as I take in the view.
“You can settle in the guest house, and later, feel free to
come down here. The boats are available unless the waves are
too high. If you can’t pilot them, I can ask one of our staff to
take you out.”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” I respond, appreciative.
“Actually, I’d love a boat ride,” Regan interjects. When I turn
to glare at her, she raises an eyebrow and smirks, making it
clear she’s just trying to annoy me.
“How long have you two been together?” Rebecca suddenly
asks.
I feel a flush of panic, but Regan laughs and steps in before
I can fumble an answer. Why didn’t we come up with a
backstory?
“Just over a year,” Regan explains, wrapping an arm around
my waist and pulling me close. “One day, I was with a friend,
and as we walked past Maisy’s, she craved the pastries in the
display window.”
She tells the story so convincingly that even I start to
believe it, feeling intrigued by what she’ll say next.
“We went in, not knowing it was Moira’s bakery, and when
we saw each other... well,” she says with a shrug. “Moira was so
excited she came out to greet me with open arms. Remember,
sweetheart?” she asks, looking at me.
I suppress the anger bubbling inside me and nod, forcing a
smile, feeling her hand slide down to my backside. Despite the
cold December air, the heat from her hand sears through me,
and I stiffen.
“Yes, yes,” I smile, dazed, as Rebecca watches us
expectantly.
“We talked for a while, and before I left, Moira asked to see
me outside. I was unsure, but she insisted, and I couldn’t
refuse,” Regan continues smugly. When I glance at her,
intending to silently signal enough, she gives my butt a firm
squeeze, making me jump in surprise. “We had what you could
call a first date, and afterward, Moira pinned me against a wall
and kissed me, making clear what she hadn’t said in words all
afternoon.”
“How sweet,” Rebecca claps, genuinely moved by Regan’s
absurd tale. “I met Tyler at a golf match with my father. We
ended up sitting together and then drifted off to the cafeteria.
But enough about us, let’s go to the guest house. You must be
tired.”
Rebecca starts walking ahead, and I whip around to face
Regan, swatting her hand off my backside.
“If you do that again, I’ll break your fingers, hear me?” I
threaten, enunciating each word sharply.
“Remember, we’re supposed to be a couple.”
“Touching me inappropriately in front of people? I don’t
know what kind of deviants you’re used to, but I certainly didn’t
go around groping my ex-husband.”
As soon as the words escape, I regret them. Regan’s
eyebrows shoot up, and her jaw drops.
“You were married?” she whispers, and I start walking away.
“Leave me alone, we’re not discussing my life.”
Regan raises her eyebrows again and holds her hands up in
a gesture of peace. Rebecca walks a few meters ahead,
presumably giving us some privacy, but I’d rather step in cow
dung than be left alone with Regan. Her presence stirs
memories and feelings I only ever felt with her, which worries
me.
“We need to come up with a story,” I hiss, not stopping my
pace.
She gives me a quizzical look, and I wonder if she’s playing
dumb or genuinely doesn’t get it.
“About us, Regan. We can’t wing it every time someone
asks.”
“Well, I think I did pretty well with that story,” she replies,
glancing at me sideways with a taunting air.
“Sure, a story where I fall madly in love at first sight. You
almost made it sound like I was dragging myself to you,
begging for a kiss, and you, being the lady you are, decided to
grant it out of pity, right?”
Regan whirls around suddenly, cutting off my path. I find
myself too close to her, the air around us so heavy it’s hard to
breathe as she looks directly into my eyes, her face darkened,
the usual playful arrogance gone.
“In another time, as I recall, it was you who pushed me into
a bathroom and shoved your tongue down my throat, cornered
me under the bleachers, in the locker room, even behind the
shed in the yard.”
Her reproach roots me to the spot. The fact that she
remembers each place where we kissed only intensifies my guilt
over what I did. She hasn’t forgotten, and her furious gaze
makes it clear she’s still hurt and hasn’t forgiven me. I haven’t
forgiven myself either, so I can’t blame her.
Chapter 8
Moira
13 years ago
Attending that party was a reluctant first for me, midway
through our final year of high school. We were on the cusp of
college, and every excuse was good enough for a celebration.
The prospect of those parties never appealed to me. Yet, the
risk of social ostracism pushed me to conform and attend,
feeding my then-obsession with appearances.
Dating Tyler had thrust me into the spotlight of popularity, a
status I cherished almost as much as the relief I felt when he
dumped me for the cheerleading captain. My friends, expecting
me to be devastated, came with words of comfort. But their
sympathy only deepened my confusion. I wasn’t heartbroken; I
was liberated.
Being with Tyler felt like a transaction – the price for
popularity was his kisses and tolerating his wandering hands, all
devoid of the spark my friends incessantly talked about. They
described passion, tingles, excitement, and desire. I only wished
for it to end and, paradoxically, for it to happen again, hoping
each time would ignite something in me. But it never did. It was
baffling – why didn’t I feel what I was supposed to feel with the
most desirable guy in school? I consoled myself, thinking he just
wasn’t the right one for me, and someday, someone would
make me experience that delirious thrill everyone talked about.
Nervously, I arrived at the party, spurred on by friends who
saw it as the perfect opportunity to hook me up with someone
new and forget Tyler. But I had already moved past him,
maintaining a friendly rapport. Surprisingly, I began to enjoy the
party. A few drinks shed my inhibitions, and I danced wildly for
hours. As the music softened and groups formed for a respite,
we decided to step into the garden. That’s where I saw Regan
seated under a tree with a girl and a boy. We were never close;
our circles of friends never overlapped. She was always with
those two, always laughing – a genuine joy that drew my
envious gaze. Their camaraderie was a stark contrast to the
petty envies and gossip that marred my group, where
conversations revolved around boys, parties, and expensive
clothes. Regan and her friends seemed untouched by such
superficialities. And Regan herself had something about her – a
magnetism that made me avert my gaze in nervousness,
clouding my thoughts.
As I watched them, I recognized an ease in their
interactions, a genuine connection missing from my own social
circle. Their laughter was unburdened by the pretenses that
ruled my world. Regan, in particular, exuded an effortless
charisma that captivated me. Whenever she laughed, her eyes
crinkling with genuine mirth, I found myself entranced. Her
every gesture, the way she spoke, left me breathless, especially
when her gaze met mine. I couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or a
genuine fascination, but I felt drawn to her, my heart racing
with a mix of excitement and anxiety.
Regan and her friends seemed to exist in a bubble of
authenticity, immune to the trivial concerns that dominated my
group’s conversations. In contrast, my world was rife with
shallow gossip and constant competition, fixated on boys and
material possessions. But with Regan, there was a sense of
freedom, an escape from the pretenses that I had become so
entangled in. Her presence was like a breath of fresh air, stirring
feelings in me that I couldn’t fully understand but desperately
wanted to explore.
“Mind if we join?” Tyler asked the trio under the tree,
gesturing to the ground.
“Sure,” replied Regan’s friend, her voice easy and inviting.
We settled down beside them, a curious mix of contrasting
worlds. Regan’s friend kept tossing out jokes, and despite our
obvious differences, laughter bridged the gap. I found myself
captivated by Regan, her laugh like a melody, her eyes crinkling
in genuine amusement. I was drawn to her every move, her
every word, and the way my heart skipped a beat each time our
eyes met.
I wondered if it was the buzz from the drinks or a genuine
fixation, but it felt like Regan was giving me more attention than
anyone else. It was exhilarating, sending my pulse racing with a
mix of nerves and excitement.
“How about a game of spin the bottle?” Tyler proposed,
setting down an empty bottle he and others had been sharing.
My stomach tightened at the suggestion, but as everyone
else cheered in approval, I forced a smile, playing along with
the apparent thrill of the game.
One girl dashed off, returning with a notepad and pencil.
She scribbled down everyone’s names, folding each piece of
paper and placing them into a bag. “This way, it’s all random, or
everyone would just pick Tyler,” she joked, eliciting laughter
from the group. “Whoever the bottle points to picks a name,
and that’s the person they have to kiss.”
The game of spin the bottle, a teenage rite of passage,
suddenly felt like a tightrope walk over a chasm of my own
emotions. Had I been given the choice, I would’ve picked Tyler,
the easy and expected option. We’d been together, and
everyone assumed I was still pining over him. But deep down,
my heart was wrestling with a different truth. Each time the
game nudged me to consider whom I wanted to kiss, my gaze
reached Regan.
The game began haphazardly, and I realized how absurd it
all was as it followed the clock’s hands. It was more about
stirring excitement and the unexpected thrill than anything else.
“No chaste kisses,” declared my friend Olivia. “We want
tongue, and it’s got to last at least five seconds.” No one
objected, and I tensed up again, smiling outwardly as though
eager to begin.
We formed a circle, and the bottle’s first spin singled out
Olivia. She drew Eric Tomas’ name and dived into the kiss with a
zeal that left us all speechless. When her turn came to spin, the
bottle pointed to Regan’s friend, and a tender, knowing
exchange followed. I sensed a hidden connection between
them, a realization that dawned on me just as the bottle spun
my way, stopping abruptly to point directly at me.
The group’s excited whistles echoed in my ears as I tried to
steady my nerves. It was just a kiss, after all. Tyler handed me
the bag of names. My hand brushed against a slip of paper, but
as I pulled out, a sudden paper cut made me drop it. Laughter
filled the air.
“It’s not an excuse to chicken out, is it?” Olivia teased, her
lips still flushed from her kiss with Eric.
Ignoring her, I reached back into the bag, more deliberately
this time, sifting through the papers until I settled on one. My
hand trembled as I unfolded it, the anticipation thick around
me. Reading the name aloud, my voice cracked, my throat dry
with a mix of fear and an unspoken desire.
“Regan Jensen.”
Chapter 9
Regan
We arrive at the guest house wrapped in a blanket of
uncomfortable silence, so palpable even Rebeca picks up on it.
She guides us through the kitchen, a quick offer if we need
anything, then the dining room. Climbing the stairs, she turns
down the right hallway to our room.
“I’m going to need a map to find my way back here,” I joke,
and it earns me a laugh from both of them, slicing through the
tension like a knife.
“The layout is a bit... quirky,” Rebeca admits with a sheepish
grin. “Anyway, here we are. This is your room.”
The click of a key unlocking the door surprises me, but as
we step inside, I see why. It’s less a room more an apartment. A
massive bed dominates the right wall, flanked by two sofas, a
huge TV, and a sprawling desk with dual workstations. The
terrace, offering a breathtaking sea view, tempts me to step
outside. Just as Rebeca described, the bathroom features a
jacuzzi tub on the left and a spacious shower on the right, with
dual sinks in between. I’ve always found such setups odd;
anything designed to keep distance in a relationship feels out of
place to me.
Moira surveys the room in silence, her gaze lingering on the
bed, lost in thought.
“Feel free to roam around,” Tyler’s girlfriend says quickly.
“Join us for dinner at eight in the main dining room, or order in
if you prefer.”
“Wow, it’s much better than a hotel,” I can’t help but say,
genuinely impressed.
“No doubt about that,” she smiles.
“Where’s the kitchen so I can work?” Moira asks, her tone
distant.
“In the main building. The staff will show you tomorrow,
don’t worry.”
“Could I get the song list? I’d like to start sorting them into
folders,” I ask Rebeca, mirroring Moira’s professionalism.
“Of course, I’ll get it to you tomorrow. Now, rest up, and
thank you so much for being here,” she says warmly, her
hospitality shining through.
Once Rebeca leaves, I turn to Moira, who’s still fixated on
the bed.
“I get the right side,” I announce, diving onto it.
“You can have the whole bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” she
replies, sitting down to test it.
Her grimace tells me all I need to know about the couch’s
comfort. Grinning, I pat the bed beside me. “It’s huge; we don’t
even have to touch.”
“I said no.”
“Fine, have it your way. But no complaints about a sore back
tomorrow, and don’t expect a massage.”
Moira sighs, standing up to reluctantly approach the bed,
perching on its edge.
“Let’s work on our story.”
“I sense I won’t get a word in, but what’s your plan?” I ask,
sitting up.
“Thanks to your vivid imagination, they know how we met.
We just need to decide where we live.”
“And where’s that?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Obviously, my place in Santa Barbara. Maisy’s there, and as
a DJ, you don’t have a fixed workplace. It makes sense.”
“I have my own studio at home,” I protest, almost childishly.
“Well, you’ve just set up another one at my place,” she ends
the topic abruptly.
“Is Kevin your ex-husband?” I blurt out, and she whirls
around, aghast.
“Kevin is gay,” she fires back as if that settles everything.
“I gathered that, but it doesn’t answer my question. I need
to know who he is. We nearly tripped up on arrival. Lucky for
us, Kevin’s quick on his feet, and we’re both good actors. If it
had been up to you, we would’ve been busted on day one,” I
tease her.
“Kevin is my kitchen assistant and my friend, nothing more.
I met him at a cooking competition. That’s all you need to know
about him, and about me.”
“Fine. Poor guy, though. Putting up with your mood swings
every day must be exhausting.”
“I’m not like that with him.”
“And why are you with me?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Because I can’t stand you.”
Moira stands up, pacing the room as if it helps her unwind.
“What’s your favorite food?” she asks suddenly, and I raise
my eyebrows, taken aback.
“Planning to cook for me? How thoughtful...”
“If I ever cook for you, it’ll be laced with laxatives, so you’re
stuck in the bathroom all day, leaving me in peace. Couples
know these things,” she clarifies with a sigh so heavy she almost
lifts off the ground like a balloon.
“I don’t have a favorite food; I like everything,” I respond,
and she looks surprised.
“Great. Mine’s spaghetti.”
“Spaghetti? How cute. That was my favorite until I was
eight.”
Moira shoots me a deadly glare before grabbing her
enormous suitcase and dropping it on the bed to unpack.
We decide to have dinner in the guest house, and as we
descend to the dining room, we realize the only diners are
Kevin, her, and me.
“Wow,” Moira says, eyebrows raised.
“Surprised?” Kevin asks as I take a seat beside him.
“Are you not?”
“Of course not. All the wedding guests are high society; we
don’t fit in here at all. Well, maybe Regan,” he smiles, looking at
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Figure 79. De Konick’s Apparatus.
Figure. 83.
This indicates that 109.9 cubic centimeters of air would occupy a volume of 100 cubic
centimeters when subjected to standard conditions.
The tubes A, B, and C are filled with mercury of which about two and a half kilograms will
be required. By means of the leveling tube B, the stopper in C being opened, the mercury in C
is brought exactly to 109.9 cubic centimeters. The stopper in C is then closed, mercury
poured into D, which is then closed with a rubber stopper, carrying a small glass tube as
indicated in the figure.
The leveling tube B serves to regulate the pressure on the gas in A and this is secured by
depressing or elevating it as the case may require.
The tube for reducing the volume to standard conditions of temperature and pressure, viz.,
0° and 760 millimeters of mercury, is shown in C. In its narrow part which has the same
internal diameter as A it is graduated into tenths of a cubic centimeter. The upper end of C is
furnished with a heavy glass neck D surmounted by a glass cup. In the neck is placed a
ground-glass stopper, carrying a groove below, which corresponds to a similar groove above
in the side of the neck whereby communication can be established at will between the interior
of C and the exterior. The joint is also sealed by pouring mercury into D as is shown in the
figure. When the stopper is well ground and greased the reduction tube may be raised or
lowered as much as may be necessary without any danger of escape or entrance of gas. To
determine the position of the reduction tube C the reading of the barometer and
thermometer at room temperature is taken. From the reading of the barometer subtract one
millimeter if the temperature be below 12°, two millimeters at a temperature from 12° to 19°,
three from 20° to 25°, and four above 25°.
When a gas has been introduced into the measuring tube A it is brought to the volume
which it would assume under standard conditions by adjusting the tube C in such a way as to
bring the level of mercury in C and A to the same point and the level of the mercury in C is
exactly at 100 cubic centimeters. The gas in A is then at the volume which it would occupy
under standard conditions and this volume can be directly read. This adjustment is secured
by moving the tubes B and C up or down. If gases are to be measured wet, a drop of water
should be put on the side of the upper part of C, and, if dry, of sulfuric acid, before the
adjustment for temperature and pressure.
475. Method of Manipulation.—By the action of mercury in the presence of sulfuric
acid, the nitrogen in nitrates, nitrites, nitrosulfates, nitroses, nitrocellulose, nitroglycerol, and
the greater number of explosives, may be obtained and measured as nitric oxid. The nitrogen
compounds are decomposed in the apparatus shown in Fig. 84.
To make an analysis, the apparatus is filled with mercury, through F, until the two
openings in the cock and i are entirely occupied with that liquid. The cock h is then closed,
and the nitrogen compound, in solution, introduced through g, care being taken that no air
enters g when F is depressed and h opened to admit the sample. The funnel g is washed
several times with a few drops of sulfuric acid, which are successively introduced into G. The
total liquid introduced should not exceed ten to fifteen cubic centimeters, of which the
greater part should be sulfuric acid. The rubber tube connecting G and F is carefully closed
with a clamp and G violently shaken for a few minutes until no further evolution of nitric oxid
takes place. In shaking, the apparatus should be so held as to prevent the escape of the
mercury from the small tube i by keeping it closed with the finger or drawing over it a rubber
cap.
After the evolution of the gas has ceased, the tube e, Fig. 83, is brought into contact with i,
Fig. 84, and the two are joined by a tight-fitting piece of rubber tubing in such a way as to
exclude any particle of air. The tube F, Fig. 84, is lifted and B and C, Fig. 83, depressed. On
carefully opening the cocks h and b and bringing i and e into union, the gas is passed from G
into A. When all the gas has entered A and the acid mixture from G has reached b the latter is
closed, and also h. The apparatus G is disconnected and removed. The gas in A is then
reduced to normal conditions by manipulating the reduction tube C in the manner already
described.
The gas in A is measured dry by reason of having been generated in presence of rather
strong sulfuric acid. Consequently, for this operation the adjustment of the volume of gas in C
should be made in contact with a drop of strong sulfuric acid. In order to make the readings,
a quantity of material must be taken which will give less than thirty or from 100 to 140 cubic
centimeters of nitric oxid.
The quantities of the different compounds of nitric acid corresponding
to the number of cubic centimeters of nitric oxid, measured under
standard conditions, are shown in the following table:
Figure 84.
Lunge’s Analytic
Apparatus.
CORRESPONDING TO
———————————— ———————————— ————————————
Cubic Weight in N₂O₃ in milligrams. HNO₃ in milligrams. NaNO₃ in milligrams.
centimeters milligrams.
of NO.
1 1.343 1.701 2.820 3.805
2 2.682 3.402 5.640 7.610
3 4.029 5.103 8.460 11.415
4 5.372 6.804 11.280 15.220
5 6.715 8.506 14.100 19.025
6 8.058 10.206 16.920 22.830
7 9.401 11.907 19.740 26.635
8 10.744 13.608 22.560 30.440
9 12.087 15.309 25.380 34.245
476. Utility of the Method.—Where it is desirable that the nitric oxid method be used,
and at the same time heating be avoided, the decomposition of a nitrate by means of metallic
mercury and sulfuric acid affords a convenient and accurate procedure. But, as a rule, there is
no objection to the application of the lamp, and in such cases the mercury method appears to
have no advantage over the ferrous chlorid process. Nevertheless, in the hands of a skilled
worker the results are reliable, and the process is a quicker one, on the whole, than by
distillation with ferrous chlorid and hydrochloric acid. This method, however, can not be
recommended as in any way superior to the reduction methods to be hereinafter described.
ESTIMATION OF NITRIC ACID BY OXIDATION OF A
COLORED SOLUTION.
477. Method of Boussingault.—The process for the estimation of nitric acid by the
decoloration of a solution of indigo is due originally to Boussingault.[305] In this method the
extract, obtained by washing slowly 200 grams of soil until the filtrate amounts to 300 cubic
centimeters, is evaporated until its volume is no greater than two or three cubic centimeters,
and it is transferred to a test-tube, with washings, and again evaporated in the tube until the
volume is not greater than that last mentioned. A few drops of solution of indigo are added,
and then two cubic centimeters of pure hydrochloric acid; the whole is then heated. As the
color of the indigo disappears more is added. When the color ceases to fade, the liquid in the
test-tube is concentrated by boiling. If concentration fail to destroy the blue or green color,
another one-half cubic centimeter of hydrochloric acid is introduced. The reaction is
completed when neither concentration nor fresh addition of hydrochloric acid destroys the
excess of indigo present. The color produced by a small excess of indigo is a bright sap-green;
this tint is the final reaction sought. The small excess of indigo necessary to produce a green
color is deducted in every experiment.
When more than mere traces of organic matter are present, Boussingault advises that the
nitric acid be first separated by distillation and then reduced by the indigo solution. For this
purpose the concentrated solution of the nitrate, two or three cubic centimeters, is placed in a
small tubulated retort with two grams of manganese dioxid in fine powder. The retort is next
half filled with fragments of broken glass, over which is poured one cubic centimeter of
concentrated sulfuric acid. The retort is heated carefully by means of a small flame, which is
kept in motion so as to successively come in contact with all parts of the bottom of the retort.
The distillate is received in a graduated test-tube which is kept cool. The distillation is
continued until the vapors of sulfuric acid begin to appear. The apparatus is allowed to cool,
the stopper of the retort removed, two cubic centimeters of water introduced, and the
distillation again made until fumes of sulfuric acid are again seen. The distillation with water
is made twice in order to remove every trace of nitric acid from the retort. The distillate is
neutralized with a solution of potassium hydroxid and concentrated to two cubic centimeters,
and the nitric acid estimated in the manner already described. The manganese dioxid used
should be previously well washed and the sulfuric must be free of nitric acid.
Preparation of the Indigo Solution.—Fifty grams of indigo in fine powder are digested for
twenty-four hours, at 40°, in a liter of distilled water. The water is then poured off and
replaced with a fresh supply. After the second decantation the residue is treated with 750
cubic centimeters of equal parts of water and pure concentrated hydrochloric acid and boiled
for an hour. After cooling, the undissolved portion is collected on a filter and washed at first
with hot, and afterwards with cold water, until the filtrate is no longer colored and is free of
acid. The dried residue is treated with ether under a bell-jar, or in a continuous extraction
apparatus, until the ether is only of a faint blue tint. The fifty grams of indigo at first taken
will give about twenty-five grams of the purified article, which, however, will still leave a little
ash on combustion.
Solution in Sulfuric Acid.—Five grams of the purified indigo are placed in a flask having a
ground-glass stopper, treated with twenty-five grams of fuming sulfuric acid, and allowed to
digest two or three days at a temperature of from 50° to 60°. From seventy to 200 drops of
the solution thus made are placed in 100 cubic centimeters of water for use in the process.
Standardization of the Indigo Solution.—The solution as prepared above is standardized
by a solution of one gram of pure potassium nitrate in 1,000 cubic centimeters of distilled
water. The oxidation of the indigo solution is accomplished as described above. For this
strength of standard nitrate solution two cubic centimeters are taken corresponding to two
milligrams of potassium nitrate. The indigo solution for this strength should have only
twenty drops of the sulfuric acid solution of indigo to 100 cubic centimeters of water. If
twenty grams of potassium nitrate are taken for 1,000 cubic centimeters of the standard
solution then 200 drops of the sulfindigotic acid should be used to 100 cubic centimeters of
water.
478. Method of Marx.—As usually practiced, the indigo method is conducted according
to the variation described by Marx.[306] There are required for the process the following
reagents and apparatus:
a. A solution of pure potassium nitrate containing 1.8724 grams per liter. One cubic
centimeter of the solution is equivalent to one milligram of nitric anhydrid (N₂O₅).
b. A solution of the best indigo carmine in water which should be approximately
standardized by solution in the manner described hereafter, and then diluted so that six to
eight cubic centimeters equal one milligram of nitric acid.
c. Chemically pure sulfuric acid of specific gravity 1.842, perfectly free from sulfurous and
arsenious acids and nitrogen oxids.
d. Several thin flasks of about 200 cubic centimeters capacity.
e. A small cylindrical measure holding fifty cubic centimeters and divided into cubic
centimeters.
f. A Mohr’s burette divided into tenths of a cubic centimeter.
g. A twenty-five cubic centimeter pipette or another burette.
h. A five cubic centimeter pipette divided into cubic centimeters or half cubic centimeters.
i. A measuring flask of 250 cubic centimeters capacity.
Preliminary Trial.—Twenty-five cubic centimeters of the sample are transferred to a flask;
the fifty cubic centimeter measure is filled with sulfuric acid and the burette with indigo
solution. The sulfuric acid is added to the sample all at once, shaken for a moment, and the
indigo run in as quickly as possible with shaking until a permanent greenish tint is produced.
If the sample do not require more than twenty cubic centimeters of indigo solution of the
above strength, it can be titrated directly, otherwise it must be diluted with a proper quantity
of pure water, and subjected again to the preliminary trial.
The Actual Titration.—(1) Twenty-five cubic centimeters of the sample properly diluted if
necessary, are measured and poured into a flask, and as much indigo as was used in the
preliminary trial, is added; a quantity of sulfuric acid, equal in volume to the liquid in the
flask, is added all at once, the mixture shaken, and indigo solution run in quickly out of the
burette until the liquid remains permanently of a greenish tint.
(2) The last experiment is repeated as often as may be necessary adding to the water at first
half a cubic centimeter less indigo than the total quantity used previously, afterwards
proceeding as in (1) until the final test shows too little indigo used.
(3) From the rough titration of the indigo, calculate the amount of potassium nitrate
solution corresponding with the indigo solution used in (2), multiply the result by ten,
transfer this quantity of the standard nitrate solution to a 250 cubic centimeter flask, fill with
pure water to the mark, and titrate twenty-five cubic centimeters of this fluid with indigo as
in (2). If the quantity of indigo solution used is nearly the same as that required in (2), its
exact value may be calculated, but if it is not, another nitrate solution may be made up in the
250 cubic centimeter flask, more closely resembling the sample in strength, and the titration
with the indigo solution must be repeated.
(4) If the water contain any considerable amount of organic matter, it must first be
destroyed by potassium permanganate. In this case, the estimation of the organic matter and
nitric acid may be conveniently combined.
The use of permanganate in the above case is likely to introduce an error as has been
shown by Warington. The method therefore can not be recommended in the presence of
organic matter.
479. Method of Warington.—The modification of the indigo method as used by
Warington, applicable only in absence of organic matter, is the one chiefly employed in
England.[307]
Instead of the ordinary indigo of commerce, indigotin is used. The normal solution of the
coloring matter is made of such a strength as to be equivalent to a solution of potassium
nitrate containing 0.14 gram of nitrogen per liter. Where large quantities of the coloring
matter are to be used it is advisable to prepare it about four times the strength given above
and then dilute it as required. Four grams of sublimed indigotin will furnish more than two
liters of the color solution.
The solution is prepared as follows:
Four grams of indigotin are digested for a few hours with five times that weight of
Nordhausen sulfuric acid, diluted with water, filtered, and made up to a volume of two liters.
The strength of the indigotin solution is determined with a solution of potassium nitrate of
the strength mentioned above. The process is performed as follows:
From ten to twenty cubic centimeters of the standard nitrate solution are placed in a wide-
mouthed flask of about 150 cubic centimeters capacity. A portion of the indigotin solution is
next added, such as will be deemed sufficient for the process, and the whole is well mixed.
Strong sulfuric acid is next measured out from a burette into a test-tube, in volume equal to
the united volumes of the nitrate solution and indigotin. The whole of the sulfuric acid is then
poured as quickly as possible, into the solution in the flask and rapidly mixed, and the flask
transferred to a calcium chlorid bath, the temperature of which should be maintained at 140°.
It is essential to the success of the operation that the sulfuric acid should be mixed with the
greatest rapidity. It should be poured in at once and the whole well shaken without waiting
for the test-tube containing the acid, to drain. The flask should be covered by a watch-glass
while it is held in the bath. As soon as the larger part of the indigotin is oxidized the flask in
the bath should be gently rotated. With very weak solutions of nitrate it may be necessary
sometimes to keep the flask in the bath for five minutes. When the indigo color is quickly
discharged it shows the presence of nitric acid in considerable excess and a considerably
larger quantity of indigo must be taken in the next experiment. The experiments are
continued until just the quantity of indigo necessary to consume the nitric acid is taken, the
amount of indigo being in very slight excess, not exceeding one-tenth cubic centimeter of the
indigo solution used. The tint produced by the small excess of indigo remaining is best seen
by filling the flask with water. On substances of approximately known strength about four
experiments are usually necessary to determine the amount of indigo to be taken, but with
unknown substances a larger number may be necessary.
Usually in determinations of this kind it is directed to use double the volume of sulfuric
acid mentioned above. In this case not only is the quantity of indigo oxidized much greater
than with a smaller portion of acid, but the prejudicial effect of organic matter is also greater
than when the smaller quantity of acid is employed.
An indigo solution standardized as above is strictly to be used for a solution of nitrate of
the strength employed during the standardization. The quantity of indigo oxidized in
proportion to the nitric acid present diminishes as the nitrate solution becomes more dilute.
Instead of determining this during each series of experiments it may be estimated once for all
and a table of corrections used.
The following table is based upon experimental determinations:
Strength of Indigo Difference Nitrogen Difference Difference in the
niter solution required, between corresponding between the nitrogen values for a
used. cubic amounts of to one cubic nitrogen difference of one cubic
centimeters. indigo, cubic centimeter of values, gram. centimeter in the
centimeters. indigo, gram. amount of indigo, gram.
⁸⁄₆₄ Normal 10.00 0.000035000
⁷⁄₆₄ „ 8.71 1.29 0.000035161 0.000000161 0.000000125
⁶⁄₆₄ „ 7.43 1.28 0.000035330 0.000000169 0.000000132
⁵⁄₆₄ „ 6.14 1.29 0.000035627 0.000000298 0.000000231
⁴⁄₆₄ „ 4.86 1.28 0.000036008 0.000000381 0.000000298
³⁄₆₄ „ 3.57 1.29 0.000036763 0.000000756 0.000000586
²⁄₆₄ „ 2.29 1.28 0.000038209 0.000001445 0.000001129
¹⁄₆₄ „ 1.00 1.29 0.000043750 0.000005541 0.000004295