City of Dreams: The Fall, #3

By Dayo Benson

The saga continues for Levi Carter and Selah McAllister.

She calls me 'Angel' because I'm innocent.

But that's the past.

Now, I'm as guilty as can be.

I'm the devil on Selah's shoulder, tempting her out of her marriage and into my arms.

It isn't right, but tell that to my heart. It craves this forbidden love like my lungs pant for air.

She says her marriage feels like a life sentence.

She says she's never stopped loving me.

I say…'Run away with me.'

I've loved Selah since before I was old enough to realize I was in love. If she needs rescuing, I will be her knight.

Two weeks in New York should be enough to convince her to leave her bleak marriage forever.

Her husband won't like it, but I'm done playing Mr. Nice Guy. That's how Selah ended up with him in the first place, instead of me.

If I can just get her to the City of Dreams, everything might change...or it might all blow up in my face and turn into the worst of nightmares.

Either way, I have to shoot my shot.

My name is Levi Carter, and this is my fall from grace.


Don't miss out on this thrilling installment of The Fall, the sparkling new series from beloved Christian romance author Dayo Benson.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dayo Benson
• Release date: Aug 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201392642

Book preview

Chapter 1

Selah

I'm honestly not the kind of woman who would have an affair.

Such women have no morals, right? They're selfish, thinking only of themselves. They're not to be trusted. If they can't keep their marriage vows, they can't keep any other kind of promise, can they?

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Red, swollen eyes, tear-stained cheeks. Tight lips, pale skin. I look…empty.

I brush away the tears with the backs of my hands, then begin to throw clothes into a small suitcase. Once word of this gets out, the world will wonder how my marriage to Kevin could break down in just five months. But my parents, Kevin, and I know that this disaster has been much more than five months in the making. It's been six years.

Levi, the only man I've ever loved, also knows it's been six years. My parents struck a bargain with me—Levi would say they manipulated me—when I was eighteen. They thought they had my hands tied. I thought so, too.

But I'm done now. I can't live like this another day.

I've already removed my rings.

I'm about to reach for the Bible on my nightstand, then I pause.

No.

I grab my pajamas instead.

That book triggers so many emotions for me—few of them positive. I'm not taking it with me.

I step out of my room and make my way to the sprawling master bedroom. I left it to Kevin two months ago, but most of my clothes are still in the closet.

I have to step over a tangle of clothes and shoes strewn across the floor. The room is a dire mess now that I don't bother to clean it anymore. The ginormous bed is still decked in the romantic red sheets I bought two months ago—back when I was still trying to make it work.

I feel a little bad for Kevin, but the truth is, Levi was always the man I wanted. I gave him my heart long ago, and marrying Kevin changed nothing. In fact, our atrocious marriage has made it even more glaring that I'm supposed to be with Levi.

My heart twists as I rifle through my closet. I thought I could do this: be Kevin's wife, co-pastor the church Mom and Dad set up for us, be the perfect, little daughter. I thought I could endure a loveless marriage to keep my parents from exposing me. Now, I have the benefit of hindsight. I can't. It's soul-crushing.

This is my chance to put an end to the whole charade. Kevin is away in Portland, preaching. Levi is downstairs. He's just made me an offer I really can't refuse.

With a bunch of clothes tucked under my arm, I return to my room. It's the smallest bedroom in the house, and free of lavish decor—unlike the rest of the rooms. Its cream walls and hardwood floors are plain and unadorned. There are no furnishings except the single bed and nightstand.

The house was a wedding present from my parents, bought and decorated by them with no input from Kevin or me. This room, the only part of it that they left untouched, became my refuge.

I dump my clothes into my suitcase. I think I'm done. Anything I've forgotten to pack, I can buy in New York. I zip up the bag then carry it downstairs.

Levi is waiting in the living room. He's standing by the French doors, staring out at the overgrown jungle that is my backyard. If this house were his and mine, that yard would be perfectly landscaped, bursting with lush greenery and vibrant blooms.

He turns and my heart skips a beat when our gazes collide. Levi has always affected me so—even after knowing him for twenty years.

Right now, there's no light behind his dark eyes. Only shadows. The sculpted plains of his face are tight. He looks at my packed suitcase and his broad chest heaves slightly with a silent exhale. Relief.

He holds out a hand.

I glance at the divorce papers on the table. Kevin will find them on Monday when he gets back from Portland. Levi completed them for me. I don't have to do anything. I only have to take his hand and let him lead me away.

I cross the room and slip my hand into his. The minute his large palm slides against mine, fire overwhelms the churning in my belly and the trepidation in my heart. I love him. I always have.

I'm done with my marriage.

Levi's strong fingers thread through mine. I love you.

His deep voice is the soundtrack that accompanies the sweet memories of my teen years. Those were the years I spent falling head over heels in love with him.

I love you, too, I whisper.

His other hand cups my face. It's going to be okay.

I want to believe that. Levi knows what I'm risking by leaving with him. He knows my parents could expose me; tell the world about my ill-gotten Olympic silver medal.

He knows this could ruin me.

Let's go, he murmurs.

He takes my bag, then we head for the door. Outside, the sun is blazing from clear, azure skies. The beauty of the day is jarring. I want darkness. Frosty, bleak winds. Torrential rain.

A cooling breeze lifts my hair from my neck as I lock up. I slip the house keys through the mail slot—I won't be needing them anymore.

I look at Levi.

He gives me a small smile. It's going to be okay, he tells me again. He lifts my hand to his lips and brushes the lightest of kisses to my knuckles.

Then he unlocks his car and opens the passenger's side door for me.

I get in.

The sugar maples dotted around my quiet cul de sac are the only witnesses to my escape. Their leaves rustle in the breeze as though in farewell.

Am I doing the right thing? I ask myself as Levi begins to drive.

Mom and Dad will make me pay for this. They'll definitely expose me.

A horrible scene begins to play in my mind of Levi and me in New York, settling down to watch a movie in our hotel room. He switches on the TV and it's on a news channel. My face is on the screen. I've been exposed for doping. I have to bear the ultimate disgrace an athlete can face: I'm stripped of my silver Olympic medal. The whole world hates me.

But is that truly worse than continuing to live in fear? How long can I keep obeying my parents' every wish just because I'm afraid of being exposed? How long can I endure living with Kevin who can't stand me?

It isn't worth it.

I blink to clear that awful scene from my mind, before my thoughts get into a tailspin. I need to distract myself.

So, I say into the silence of the car. New York? My voice is small, tinged with fear.

Yeah, Levi says. My contract doesn't start until Monday, but they requested that I arrive today.

I nod, forcing a smile. Levi has been contracted to do landscaping for New York Fashion Week, which is in two weeks' time. They're going to have lots of outdoor runway shows.

Since Levi won Landscaper of the Year at the annual National Society of Landscapers Awards a few months ago, he's been landing all kinds of prestigious clients.

You also have a cover shoot, right? I ask.

He glances at me long enough to wiggle his brows before returning his gaze to the road. "Entrepreneur magazine."

I give a low whistle. He's going to crush the photo shoot. Levi's will probably be the best cover they've ever had because the dude is gorgeous. All chiseled features, soulful dark eyes, and sunny, light brown skin. Not to mention his height, and the breadth of his wide shoulders.

I'm so proud of you, Angel.

At my use of the childhood nickname I gave him, he glances at me again. I can see in his eyes just how much my words mean to him.

Thanks, Missy, he replies.

Levi was always planting things when we were little, and he often gave me fresh flowers that he'd grown himself. Flowers from Levi were a staple at my house. Mom and Dad used to joke that he's been courting me since I was four years old. However, after they fell out with Levi's parents, all such jokes ceased. They suddenly hated Levi as much as they hated his mom and dad.

Silence fills the car again, and as we near the airport, my heart begins to beat faster.

A part of me can't believe I'm actually doing this. Leaving my marriage. Defying my parents. Risking my reputation.

Levi is worth it, I tell myself as he slips into a parking garage.

My limbs feel weightless, almost numb, when I step out of the car. Levi lifts our bags out of the trunk. I open mine and dig out a hat and dark glasses.

It made the news when Levi crashed my wedding five months ago and tried to stop me from marrying Kevin. If we're seen together at the airport, it will hit the news and Kevin will know I've ditched him before he even gets back on Monday. I don't want him or my parents to find out from the news.

Levi, clearly thinking along the same lines, opens his suitcase and takes out a ball cap. He pulls the visor low over his eyes.

I want to hold his hand as we walk into the airport, but I don't dare. My hat and glasses aren't much of a disguise. Most people recognize me on sight, ever since I competed at the Olympics as part of Team USA. As for Levi, he's the son of one of the most famous preachers in America, and crashing my wedding only made him more recognizable. His picture was splashed all over the Internet for weeks afterwards.

As we check in and go through security, I try to imagine what my parents will do when they find out about this. Hopefully, they'll think I've just run away and won't find out that I'm with Levi or that we've been seeing each other.

I don't care what Kevin will think or do. He'll be mad about how this will look, and how it'll impact our joint ministry as pastors, TV preachers, and Christian social media influencers, but he won't miss me.

My heart is in my mouth all the way to our gate. I really can't believe I'm doing this. I keep my head down when we join the line for first class passengers, even though there aren't many other people.

Levi turns toward me. Are you okay?

I look up into his handsome face, and my fears begin to melt like wax before a flame. It doesn't matter what I lose, so long as I have him. And I know I'll always have him.

My throat feels too tight to speak, so I just nod.

Levi's dark eyes bore into mine. I know this isn't easy for you.

It isn't. It's a huge risk, but Levi is worth it. My own sanity is worth it. My eyes begin to burn, and I quickly blink the tears away. I've cried enough.

Something flares in Levi's eyes as his gaze searches mine. Selah…if this isn't truly what you want, you should leave.

I frown.

He rakes a hand through his dark curls. I'm giving you the option to back out.

No, I force out around the lump tightening my throat.

Are you sure?

Of course. You know you're all I've ever wanted.

Levi's expansive chest rises as he inhales a deep breath. Then he touches my cheek. Let me paint a picture of the worst-case scenario for you, Selah. Your parents are going to be mad. They might expose you for doping. He's whispering now so that nobody can overhear us. If they do, it'll be all over the news. You'll be stripped of your medal. I don't want you to resent me if that happens.

A tear rolls down my cheek and Levi brushes it away with his thumb.

You went to such pains to talk me into this, I whisper. It sounds like you're now trying to talk me out of it.

I just want you to make a clearheaded decision, Levi says. I know you don't want Kevin, but you don't want the disgrace of being exposed either. He takes both my hands in his. Are you sure I'm…

Worth it? I prompt when he trails off.

Nodding, he lowers his gaze to our joined hands.

My eyes are stinging with fresh tears. A million times, I whisper fiercely.

Levi's arms clamp around me. He holds me so tight, I lose my breath.

He releases me only when boarding begins, and he watches me out of the corner of his eye as the line drifts forward.

I advance on trembling legs.

When we reach the front, he seems to stop breathing. He doesn't think I'm going to do it. He thinks I'm going to change my mind and ditch him at the door to the plane.

I don't blame him for his lack of faith in me. A few days before I married Kevin, he proposed to me. I said no and left him in Puerto Rico. I said no again when he showed up to the wedding to stop me.

I should have said yes.

From now on, it's all yes.

I reach for his hand.

Then we board the plane together.

Chapter 2

Levi

This waking nightmare of Selah being married to another man is about to end.

I should be relieved, but I mostly feel guilty. I was the one to print off the divorce papers. I was the one to complete them on Selah's behalf. I was the one to suggest she come to New York with me and lay low, as once Kevin finds the papers all hell will break loose.

None of this was her idea.

But as soon as the flight takes off and we leave DC behind, I begin to feel better.

Selah seems to relax, too. We're in a private cabin so she's removed her hat and glasses. I've removed my ball cap.

She stares out the window, the sunlight turning her pale brown eyes a sultry, molten gold. She runs her hands through her long curls, and I'm transfixed, watching the way they ebb and flow around her shoulders. She seems to sense the weight of my scrutiny and glances at me. I drag my gaze to the window.

Everything within me wants to reach out and pull her close. Tell her just what it means to me to have her, in effect, run away with me. Kiss away her fears.

But I don't. She's still a married woman.

Not that we haven't already done things we shouldn't. For a whole month, we snuck around, snatching evenings together here and there while her husband was at Bible studies, playing basketball, and preparing sermons.

It sucked the life out of me.

I need a distraction if I want any hope of keeping my hands off Selah. She starts scrolling through the movies and I wonder if she needs a distraction from me too. If she finds me as irresistible as I find her.

I know she loves me, but I've always been the one to fall too deep and get in over my head, while she's always been much more clearheaded and can guard her heart better.

She chooses a movie I haven't seen before. A romance.

Ten minutes in, there's a steamy kiss, and, suddenly, all I can think about is tugging Selah closer from the other side of the table.

I decide it's safer to stare out of the window. I press my cheek against its cool glass.

It doesn't help.

I get up and open the fridge. There are bottles of cold water in it. I sip from one, although I would be served better by pouring it over my head.

I'm determined to resist Selah. Resist my raging attraction to her. We're not crossing the boundaries this time. I have to hold out until her divorce is final and I've made her my wife.

Suddenly, the idea of two weeks with Selah in New York seems like a special form of torture. How are we going to manage?

Are you okay? Selah asks.

I twitch at the sudden question. Then I nod quickly, not looking at her.

Thankfully, New York is only an hour away. Soon, its buildings and skyscrapers sprawl below us, a living, breathing city of dreams. Before I know it, we're landing.

I watch Selah's hair flutter after her as we deplane. I watch the graceful sway of her hips as she walks ahead of me through the security checks. Everyone around me has been saying she isn't the only woman in the world. That I should move on.

I know full well that other woman exist. And if what I feel for Selah were just a physical attraction, moving on and finding some other woman to take her place would be easy. But there are years of history between Selah and me. Years of love underpinned by years of close, fiercely loyal friendship. I'd wager that when we were young and thought we were just best friends, we were actually already in love.

I shouldn't, but I reach out and drape an arm around Selah's shoulders. I blame the flight. My willpower has been severely depleted by that hour spent in close quarters, trying to resist pulling Selah close.

She lifts a hand and interlinks our fingers.

I love you, I whisper, for her ears only.

She rewards me with a smile as brilliant as any sunrise. I love you, too.

We emerge into the airport and I'm shocked at the sight of dozens of journalists with cameras. They must have gotten wind of some celebrity arriving here soon.

Levi Carter! someone calls.

All the cameras turn in my direction and a constellation of blinding flashes assault my eyes.

Selah practically throws my arm off her shoulders and leaps away from me.

I frown at the man who called my name as he hurries over. He's tall and portly with a shock of graying, red hair. John Reynolds, he says, beaming.

Oh.

We've been exchanging emails. He's one of the organizers of New York Fashion Week. I knew they were going to send someone to welcome me, but I didn't envision this. I certainly didn't think there'd be journalists with cameras.

It's Selah McAllister, one of the journalists calls.

The cameras begin to flash even more rapidly, and Selah looks like she might pass out. I quickly step in front of her to shield her from view, and John seems to realize what's going on.

He holds up a hand. Stop taking pictures.

I'm surprised when the journalists stop. Maybe they're his own media team. I didn't read his email about a welcome delegation thoroughly. Now I wish I had.

Selah steps out from behind me and begins to walk away, head bowed and shoulders slumped.

Wait, I say.

She turns. Her cheeks are flushed. Her eyes are strained.

I feel horrible.

There's also the guilt stabbing through my heart. Because John and his team are sure to be jumping to all kinds of conclusions.

I step towards her and whisper in her ear. Wait for me in the Starbucks around the block.

She nods, then hurries away.

The cameras start flashing again, and I take pictures with John. I'm interviewed briefly by the