by Chance : Poison & Wine, book 2

by Sigal Ehrlich

  Panda blows me a kiss, and I reciprocate with a sugary, “If I were you, I’d make sure to lock my door and windows tonight, friend.”

  She laughs in response and smacks a loud kiss on my cheek.

  I close the door, turn around, and freeze in my spot. Ricky stands a couple of steps away, his leather jacket on, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

  “Hi,” I say. My stomach is in knots when I ask, “Are you leaving too?” He just eyes me as if contemplating his words, and I add, “Why are we standing by the door?”

  “Because I don’t know if I’m staying,” he says in a leveled tone, but what he transmits makes my heart pang.

  I clear my throat. “What do you mean?”

  “Babe, every damn step forward with you is climbing a mountain, and then you draw back. Why didn’t you answer your door that night?”

  “What night?” I play innocent.

  He doesn’t buy it. “Vicky.” My name sounds more like a warning. “You know very well what night. When I came to see you before going to LA? Were you home?” When I remain silent, he adds, “I’m hanging by a thread here. Were you home?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Why?” he asks, looking at me with equal parts exasperation and bafflement. “Why do you keep doing this?”

  I take a deep breath that doesn’t help loosen the tightness in me. “I don’t know. I—you’re too much.”

  Ricky shakes his head with a humorless laugh. “I’m too much?” He shakes his head again. This time, his words come out louder. “I’m too much?” He inhales sharply. “What do you want, Victoria?”

  I wince at the way he says my full name. “I don’t know, Patrick.”

  He drops his head, nodding to himself, looking lightyears from pleased. “Do you want me to stop? Do you want me out of your life?”

  The word flies out of my mouth unfiltered and somewhat panicked. “No!”

  Ricky takes a couple of steps to reach me. The closer he gets, the wilder my heart goes. “That’s the first time you’ve reacted to anything I’ve said with no hesitation. Now we’re getting somewhere.” His eyes bore into mine. “Am I coming on too strong?”

  I shake my head, a little lost for words while I’m battling the dichotomy of feelings in me. “I don’t know. Yes . . . No.”

  His lips twitch. “Well, that’s who I am.” He takes a deep breath. “But don’t tell me you didn’t feel it too.” He sends his hand to my chin and gently tips it up to align our stares. “What do you want, Vic?”

  My brows furrow into a tense frown as I woman up. “I’ve never taken a chance on anyone. Never wanted to.” He remains silent. He slides his hand to the crook of my neck, and his thumb caresses my skin as he listens attentively. “And—” I say and pause. Ricky cocks his head. “You changed that.”

  Silent yet fully with me, he leans in to leave a soft kiss on my forehead.

  “I have so much baggage,” I say in a soft voice, hinting at desperation.

  “Nothing I didn’t suspect,” he says. “Yet I’m here. Very much here, even after everything you put me through.” He crouches a little to align our stares. “Stop fighting me on every turn. I’m not someone you have to be afraid of. I know what I am getting into. We all have baggage.”

  I nod, overwhelmed by the emotions taking over me. On the one hand, I’m grateful that he wants to stick with me—that he wants me. On the other, I don’t like this softer side of myself. This side of me I fought long and hard to eradicate.

  “Babe, being in control all the time doesn’t show strength. But allowing yourself to give it up does,” he says.

  He trains his unyielding stare on me. “Do I stay, or do I go?”

  My heart is beating itself out of my rib cage when I say, “Stay.”

  “Why?” His eyes never leave mine.

  “Because . . . ”

  “Why?” he insists.

  “Because I want you to stay.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I want you.”

  He cocks his head again, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, let’s relax. We don’t have to write a love song about it.”

  Ricky chuckles. “You’ll be the end of me.”

  “We already confirmed that I’d be the reason for your heart failure.”

  “We did.” Humor melts from his features. “Vicky, I can’t do this hot-and-cold thing anymore with you. I really want the truth. Are you sure you’re in?”

  I stare at him, affected by the intense gaze that penetrates through every protective layer I’ve secured around myself for years. “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Yes?” he repeats. “Okay, but one-line responses aren’t going to cut it. You’re still not really telling me what’s on your mind. Babe, bad communication ends a lot of things with great potential.”

  “I tend to run toward what scares me the most and show that I can handle it.”

  “So, what are you saying, Vic?”

  “Right now, what I feel for you scares me the most.” I hold his stare. I nod. Desperately needing to lighten the tension that’s engulfing me, I say, “So is that enough of an explanation for you? Can we go in now?”

  Ricky gives me a light smile and nods. He doesn’t pressure me further. Maybe he can sense that this is new to me; new and frightening. He gestures for me to take the lead.

  Following me down the hall into the living room, he softly sings a song by Lady Gaga. It is a song about having a million reasons to walk away, asking your lover to give you just one good reason to stay.

  His graveled, low voice that on any other day somehow has the ability to make me feel whole at this moment unravels me. His voice and the lyrics . . . I turn with a start and grab his face and kiss him with everything that’s wreaking havoc in me. A moan of relief leaves my mouth with the solace of being able to kiss him again. God, I missed him so much. And he is here with me, showing me how much he needs me too.

  A beat later, I ease back with concern. “You’re hot.”

  “So I’ve been told,” he murmurs, leaning in to continue the kiss.

  I stay back, sending my hand to his cheek and up to his forehead. “No. I think you have a fever.”

  He shrugs in response.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Just a little tired.”

  I take his hand, walking us to the living room. “Why don’t you lie down? I’ll make you tea and get you something for the fever.”

  His lips tip at something behind me. In one swift move, he lays me on the sofa instead. I watch him, surprised as he steps toward the fondue set. Placing it by the sofa, he dips two fingers in and brings them to my legs. I watch him as he draws a long line from my thigh to the hem of my shorts.

  “What are you doing?” I croak.

  Dropping to his knees, he brings his mouth to the chocolate trail and laps the chocolate slowly from my skin. Looking up at me, he says, “Self-medicating.”

  Tell Me Things

  Ricky to Babe: Tell me things.

  Babe to Ricky: Are we doing the texting thing now?

  Ricky to Babe: We’re doing everything now. Everything but the kitchen sink.

  Babe to Ricky: But I truly liked that time on the kitchen sink.

  Ricky to Babe: I stand corrected. Everything, especially the kitchen kink.

  Babe to Ricky: So here’s the thing, I’m in a meeting. What things do you want to know, Patrick Hart?

  Ricky to Babe: Random things, babe.

  Babe to Ricky: Neck kisses.

  Ricky to Babe: Soon.

  An hour later.

  Babe to Ricky: Your hair when you wake up.

  Ricky to Babe: Waking up next to you.

  Two hours later.

  Babe to Ricky: The last three words you said to me when you left.

  Ricky to Babe: Babe…

  Three hours later.

  Babe to Ricky: Here’s another
thing for you. Change the ridiculous name you have me under on your phone.

  Ricky to Babe: Never, BABE.

  Ricky to Babe: Here are those three words again. I. Miss. You.

  Ricky to Babe: Room 211.

  “Yeah,” I call, heading toward the door. “Just a sec.” I shrug on a shirt and open the door, pushing my hair back from my eyes.

  “Did you check who it was first?” Amanda asks in the way of greeting. When I frown, she says, “I would if I were you unless you want enthusiastic fans barging in.” I follow her into the suite as she takes a seat in the dining area. “A water would be nice, thank you.”

  I smile to myself as I get her one.

  Her eyes study me. “How do you feel about tonight?”

  “Ready,” I say, sitting across the table from her.

  “It’s your trial by fire.” She keeps assessing me—she always does. Always seeming to read between the lines and to plot strategies in the same breath.

  I return her stare. “Confident.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” she says and makes a show of studying the suite. “No shattered bottles on the walls this time?” she asks with an amused curve to her lips.

  My jaw clenches while I remain silent, countering her narrowed gaze at me.

  She studies me once more with curiosity this time. “You look different.”

  I chuckle in surprise. “How so?”

  She shrugs, circling her finger around the glass. “Less intense?”

  My lips tip. “If you say so.”

  Shifting to talk work, she tells me which people I should introduce myself to tonight, that my stylist will drop off my outfit soon, and that I should pick up my date for tonight from her room.

  I hook my finger through my necklace, skating it from side to side. I inhale and wet my lips. “About that—”

  Amanda raises a dark brow, eyeing me shrewdly.

  “I thought I’d be too busy for that tonight.” Amanda’s eyes narrow at me. “I mean with everything else . . . I thought—with the performance and the people you want me to meet and—”

  “It will be heavily covered. We need to gain as much as we can. This event is your golden ticket to this world, Patrick. If this works, you’ll be opening for Tyler Lee.” She locks her eyes with mine, driving her point home. “Being seen with Kat Labon on your arm is guaranteed to put your face everywhere. She’s on everyone’s lips right now. The last movie, and the fact that she’s in the middle of a very public separation from that NBA player, it’s a gold mine for you.”

  She sees a gold mine, and I’m thinking more in the direction of an unmitigated disaster. The one time I need to be dateless, she comes up with Kat Labon. The event tonight is for the official launch of the collaboration with Tyler Lee Adams that dropped earlier today. The same event my friends are invited to. Friends and my woman.

  After the night Vicky finally admitted she wants this as much as I do, something changed. In the past two weeks before I flew back to LA for all the media coverage for the single’s release, we were inseparable. We met every evening after Vicky returned from work, had dinner together, slept and woke up together.

  My life at the moment couldn’t get any better. I’m living my dream with my dream woman by my side. Not exactly by my side, but we’re together, and it’s been fucking perfect. So showing up with this other beautiful woman as my date to a party where my girlfriend is coming . . . it’s one thing keeping our distance for the sake of appearance, but it’s a whole different thing pretending to be with someone else in her face. I want to press the issue with Amanda, but what excuse do I have?

  Not much later, I see Amanda to the door. “You have a whole team behind you, Patrick. Anything you need.”

  “Thanks, Amanda. Appreciate it. Everything.”

  “How long have you guys been together?” Ivi, Tyler Lee’s wife, asks.

  Kat, my date for tonight, and I trade a puzzled glance. It seems like my arranged dates are much more practiced and smooth in selling our thing than I am. Kat trails her hand over my chest and says, “It’s pretty new.” She grins at a camera I didn’t even notice was directed at us and adds, “New and exciting.”

  See, I’m a little less skilled in the art of bullshitting. I nod with a fabricated smile. Ivi laughs, and Kat joins her. I lose interest when they start chatting about some vintage store or whatnot. My eyes slowly move to roam the room. Excitement brews in my gut at the thought of soon performing live in front of all these people.

  Something happens in my chest when my wandering stare lands on a pair of the most beautiful sapphire eyes. Vicky smiles at me from across the room, making my heart sing. For a stretch of a few beats, I’m drinking her in. There are some gorgeous women here tonight, but no one even comes close to Vic in tight leather pants and a cropped tank top that showcases most of her midriff. She let her silky hair down, pairing it with red, red lips. Christ, she’s everything.

  Kat tells me something, but it doesn’t register what with all my attention drawn to the one who should be my date tonight or any other night. Unable to take my eyes off Vicky, I lean in a little and mutter that I’m going to say hi to my friends.

  When Kat replies with, “Later,” squeezing my bicep, the flinch crossing Vicky’s face doesn’t escape me. I can’t blame her. If another guy even breathed her way, let alone showed any sign of possession, I’d lose my shit. Vicky’s group draws enough attention as it is, which doesn’t bode well with me. I realize just how fucked up this situation is. There’s nothing I’d like more than to share this evening for all it is with my actual girlfriend.

  “Can I get your autograph?” Kayla greets me as I near the group.

  I chuckle self-deprecatingly as she takes me into a quick hug. I jerk my chin at Dave in hello. Kevin grabs me for a pat on the back, side embrace. Anna smiles at me and thanks me for inviting them, telling me that Liam couldn’t make it as he’s on-call. I kiss her on the cheek in response.

  Pandora grins at me mischievously and takes me into a friendly hug. “Can you sign my boobs?”

  I chuckle at her nonsense and turn to say hi to the person I’m pretending not to be so far gone for. I wrap Vicky in a side-hug. Under the veil of her hair, I leave a succulent kiss on her neck.

  “Don’t kiss my neck like that if you’re not going to get naked,” Vicky says so only I can hear.

  “I wish,” I say. Easing back, I kiss her cheek, whispering. “Babe, you look stunning.”

  “So’s your date,” she playfully whispers back.

  She might be joking, but it adds salt to a wound that is already festering.

  I align our stares. “I’m sorry.”

  She dismisses it with a big smile by saying, “You look okay too.”

  “Babe,” I say, schooling my features to mask the intensity of my next words. “Whatever goes down tonight, you’re the one I want, and this is all for show.”

  She pats my chest, wearing a sass-full grin. “Babe,” she smirks, mimicking my grave tone, and my lips twitch at the term of endearment. “They can all pretend and gawk as much as they want. I’m the one taking you to my bed tonight.”

  I grin. “Damn right. Only you.” When I break our stares and look around me, my eyes meet Amanda’s suspicious gaze on me. Not a beat later, she trots our way.

  Unable to keep my distance, knowing full well I’ll have to any second now, I slide my hand to rest on Vicky’s lower back, lean closer, and say, “The solo I’ll be singing later, I wrote for you.”

  When I ease back from her, Vicky blinks at me with a look that tears me apart. The last thing I want to do right now is to walk away and not kiss her like every cell in my body is burning to do.

  “Hello,” Amanda says, planting herself between Vicky and me. “I’m Amanda Linden.” She shakes hands with my friends. She turns to Vicky next. “Victoria Nielsen, right?”

  I frown, bewildered that she knows Vicky’s full name. The thought that Amanda once asked if Vicky would be a problem resurfaces
in my mind. Thinking about it now, if Amanda sensed Vicky might be a threat, she probably has a complete file on her by now.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Vicky says in a leveled tone.

  Amanda smiles at Vicky in a manner that triggers my alert. “As it seems, we have a friend in common, Felipo Ricci.”

  “Oh,” Vicky says with surprise. “How do you know Felipo?”

  “One of the first events I had in Rome for the label was at his hotel. Since then, I have my people stay there. But I guess I don’t know him as well as you do.” Amanda’s smile turns sweeter. “With us, it’s strictly business. Aren’t you guys dating?” Amanda’s eyes flicker to mine.

  My jaw stones over as I follow their conversation while pretending to listen to Kevin and Dave.

  Vicky’s smile matches Amanda’s, a smile that exudes animosity and power. Vic can hold her own, and it’s damn sexy.

  “Small world. Well, I suppose you aren’t that close. Otherwise, you would have heard the news. He’s engaged to that lovely lady he’s been seeing. Beatrice.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. I need to call him to congratulate them,” Amanda replies, not missing a beat.

  Amanda then turns to me. “Kat was looking for you, Patrick.” She smiles, glancing at Vicky. “You don’t want to keep your date waiting.”

  If I was irritated a moment ago, now I’m pissed. I throw Amanda a look that reveals my annoyance. “I’ve got to go get ready.”

  I squeeze Vicky’s hand so no one can see and tell my friends that I’ll see them later.

  “Patrick”—Amanda sends her hand to my shoulder—“break a leg.” I nod, and her smile widens. “And many, many hearts.”

  “After you.” Tyler Lee gestures with an easy smile as we make our way to the stage. Just before crossing the threshold to the spotlight, he puts a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s show them how it’s done.”

  I nod with a smile, glancing at him and wishing I could muster a fraction of the confidence he’s carrying. I’ve performed before, many times, but this is the first time I’ve done it in front of this many people . . . and they aren’t just any people. People who can take my career to heights I never thought possible. Tonight, it’s the big leagues. It’s not a vast venue, but many influential individuals are in the place, not to mention the event will be live-streamed—a first for me.