by Dylan Allen
He nuzzles my hair with his chin.
“But … how did you end up in such a bad place with your ex?” I ask.
He stiffens and then clears his throat.
“I was living in New York after college, away from my family and with my brothers. All four of us in one city. It was … amazing.”
His sigh is full of nostalgia and I can hear the smile the memory has brought to his face. “I feel a but coming on,” I say when he pauses a beat too long.
“But, I was also in a really dark place. I was almost twenty-five. My inheritance was vesting and yet I still couldn’t go home. I’d have the money, but none of the responsibility that made it mine. And I was obsessed with being ready to take the helm. My aunt always takes blame for introducing me to her. But if I’m honest, I thought finding a wife was the most important thing. Combine that with alcohol, youth, and more money than sense … and you’ve got a perfect storm.
“I married the wrong woman. We divorced. She moved on. I moved back to Europe.
“Five years later, her luck ran out and she was trying to get more money out of me. She came to my house one evening and I refused to let her in. She banged on the door for an hour. She only left when I told her I was calling the police.”
“Why didn’t you call them the minute she showed up? This sounds insane,” I ask.
“Because I was, as always, thinking about what that would look like for the family. It ended up being a disaster anyway,” he says.
“So, you’ve been in the position for how long?”
“Since I turned thirty, two months ago. It’s been a total disaster. My uncle and stepmother have spent the last sixteen years making a mess of it. So, first order of business is trying to climb through all the shit they’ve piled on top of us.”
“Ha, just like a turd blossom!” I wiggle my fingers against his ribs.
“I’m not ticklish,” he says dryly.
“How boring.”
“Listen, I like the idea of that nickname, but I can’t see myself calling you anything that has anything to do with shit.”
“Well, I don’t need a nickname. I’m good with you calling me by my name.”
He watches me with pursed lips. His eyes narrow and then he holds his wrist up so the face of it is in my line of sight.
“See those stones? Can you tell if they’re real?”
I drag my finger over the halo of diamonds on his watch’s face.
“I can’t tell. I don’t think I’ve ever seen real diamonds in my life,” I admit and peer at them.
“What’s your first impression?” he asks.
I examine them again. “They’re pretty, but they kinda look just like the stones in a ring I bought myself for Christmas at Macy’s,” I muse.
“I think unless you’re an expert, you probably can’t tell them apart from other clear stones.”
“So why do people pay so much for them?” I ask.
“They’re rarer than most stones, stronger than most, too. So, yeah, there are lots of things that might look like them, but when you test their strength, they’ll show you why they’re worthy of the price tag.”
His voice is roughened by exhaustion, but it’s soothing. Everything about him is; his voice, his hands, his body, the way he touches me—it all feels right.
It’s almost six o’clock in the morning, and we’ve been talking all night. The buttery morning sun peeks through the dark green wooden shutters that are ubiquitous to all of the villas along this stretch of coast. I watch the dust motes dance in the rays that fall on the tangle of white sheets that we’ve cocooned ourselves in. It’s also a reminder that a new day is here and that in a couple of days I’ll be on a plane back to reality.
“That’s how I’d describe you,” he says and my eyes snap back to him. He’s staring at the face of his watch still.
“How?” I ask.
“A diamond. Well, durable, rare, stronger than you look—a treasure.” And when he says those words, I think how right they feel.
“I agree,” I say, and then flush with embarrassment. “I’m not vain,” I say defensively.
He disentangles himself from me, and I land with a small bounce on the soft mattress we’re laying on.
I find myself looking up him. He’s propped his head on his fist, and he’s watching me.
“There’s nothing wrong with vanity, Confidence. I’ve never met a woman more entitled to her vanity than you. I’ll call you … just that, Tesoro.” His fingers trail up my arm.
“That’s what you called me tonight when you were being rude,” I remind him.
“I didn’t mean it then. But it turns out that it was portent.” His fingers skim my shoulder and trip up my neck before they delve into my hair.
“I like that, even though you’re just trying to make up for being such a dick tonight,” I tell him dismissively. But inside I flail, flutter, and swell with pleasure.
“Yeah, I am,” he says slowly.
I laugh at the surprise on his face.
“Is that rare?”
“Yeah, I’m not usually worried about making up for being anything. Most of the time, out of either necessity, obligation, or a combination of both, I’m forced to make hard decisions, to speak harshly to people I respect, to say no to people I love. But, right now, I feel like I can just be myself. And remorse is something I’m glad I can still feel. It reminds me I’m human,” he says a little absently, like he’s thinking out loud. His fingers skim—with no real agenda—up and down my side. “So, this is just because it feels right to say that I’m sorry.” He focuses on me again, and when our eyes connect, we click into place like well-oiled gears and just look at each other. He’s got a mole—tiny and the same color as his skin—on the left side of his mouth. His five o’clock shadow is heavy and rides up his cheeks. The light from the lamp overhead cuts between and lights his face so his lashes make shadows on his cheeks. I trail my fingers along the shadows and say, “Thanks for apologizing.”
He sighs.
“I wish I could go to the beginning. When I saw you in the hallway outside my room, I should have dragged you into my room and kissed you,” he says slowly.
“But, I wouldn’t change a thing. I mean, that kiss would have been awesome. But everything that’s happened since was like a prelude to all of this. I’ve gotten the chance to know the man behind those lips,” I say suggestively.
I lean up and kiss the tiny frown that’s marring his lips away.
“And?”
“And now, this kiss is going to be something much better than awesome … it’ll be honest,” I say. I brush my mouth against his and I feel it in my core. Sexual tension inside of me. I’m dying to be with him.
“I like that,” he says, then leans down and kisses me back. His lips are soft and insistent on my mouth, and I open for him. The pads of his long fingers scrape my scalp and his thumbs cup my jaw while we kiss. It is achingly tender, and with each press of our lips, my desire for him blooms even bigger and brighter. Our tongues do an erotic slide and rub that makes my toes curl. I’ve kissed my fair share of men, but this is different. It doesn’t have an agenda. It’s not foreplay. It’s just a kiss for the sake of it. He groans into my mouth and bites my lower lip before he sucks on it. Heat floods my body. My heart rate rises. This kiss is everything. He’s my river. I am drowning in him. And, I don’t want to be rescued.
“Your mouth … it’s so fucking sweet,” he whispers before we’re kissing again. His hand slides from my hair down my back, grips my ass, and works its way back up to grasp the back of my neck and hold me in place while we share a kiss that’s far beyond anything I imagined a kiss could be. Heat is licking at my skin; I feel like I’m on fire. I sink my fingers into his hair and nibble on his lips before I break our lip-lock. I drop kisses on his chin and underneath.
A yawn cracks my jaw and surprises me so much I almost choke on the air I inhale.
“Well, glad to know my kiss bored you to sleep,” he says dry
ly.
“More like it wore my jaw out,” I say and yawn again.
He yawns, too, then groans and pulls me into a bear hug. “Let’s sleep. I have a call at 9:00 a.m. and then I’ll be working for the rest of the day.”
He nestles his head on top of mine, tucks his hands underneath me, and pulls me flush against him.
I laugh at the way he’s cocooned me.
“I would never have guessed you grew up sleeping with a binkie. You’re a pro at the full body wraparound snuggle,” I say.
“Binkie?” he asks sleepily.
“Binkie. That’s what we call security blankets, stuffed animal, your mama’s T-shirt. You know, something that you hold because it helps you sleep.”
“Well, clearly, I’m a natural at the full body wraparound, because I can confirm, you’re my very first one.” He drops a kiss on the top of my head and sighs, deep and content before his breathing evens out.
And I lie there and let myself enjoy what I know will go down as one of the best nights of my life.
LOVERS
HAYES
“Woah, yeah. Hayes, this is a full 180 from where you were last night. Last night you said, and I quote, ‘I would have fucked her, but I could never have brought her home.’” My brother Dare peers into the FaceTime screen on my phone.
I bristle. “I didn’t say that,” I say.
“Actually, you texted it, but either way, that’s how you described her. And now …”
“Things have changed, and I need to know who she is,” I tell him.
His one-eyed squint full of skeptical amusement, he asks, “Who are you and what did you do with my older brother? Mr. I’ll – never — date — seriously — again?” Dare frowns.
“Listen, I need to get in there. I just wanted to see if you could get me the background check without me having to use official channels. If you’re just going to talk shit, I’ll talk to you later,” I snap at him and run my fingers through my hair.
“Wait, at least let me give you some advice. Because if nothing else, you know you’re moving too fast, or else you wouldn’t have called me,” he drawls.
“It is too fast. But I need to make sure this isn’t another Renee situation. Can you get it? Or not?” I fix him with a stony glare. He rolls his eyes in defeat but pushes back one more time.
“Why don’t you just get to know her yourself? Don’t freak out because you actually like her. I mean, it sucks that she’s ‘unpolished and unbred’—”
“Hey, I didn’t say that,” I protest.
“That’s what you said it boils down to. And if you’re really worried about her pedigree, maybe you’re not ready to be with anyone right now.”
“I don’t give a shit about her pedigree. And don’t be dramatic, Dare.” I dismiss his rebuke.
“Hayes, a background check is fucking dramatic. And it’s dishonest. What’ll you do if she finds out?”
“How would she find out?”
“Well, hopefully, when you realize what a dick move it was and tell her,” he says.
“I’m glad you’ve finally found a moral compass, Dare. How about you practice using it before you start lecturing me about honesty,” I say sarcastically.
He laughs. “I’ve always had a good moral compass. Just not when it comes to my own life.”
I frown at him.
He sighs and shakes his head. “Why don’t you just trust what you feel, He-man?” He uses the nickname he gave me when our parents first got married. I lean against the wall and scowl at him.
“Because, I don’t trust myself. Not anymore. I just inherited the keys to a kingdom, Dare, and whoever I’m with will have access to them. I need to be sure. If you can’t do it, I have two other guys I can call,” I tell him flatly.
He sits up and takes a deep breath with his vape pen in between his lips. “I got you, bro.” He says it with barely tepid enthusiasm.
“Somehow, that doesn’t inspire confidence, Dare,” I mutter.
“Yeah. Well, I said I’d do it. I didn’t say I’d pretend to enjoy it. I hope once it comes back, you’ll find a way to tell her and apologize.”
“Sure, any other advice?” I ask sarcastically.
“When you fuck her, only kiss her once and make sure when you come you aren’t looking her in the eyes.—”
“I do not need any advice about how to fuck, Dare,” I tell him and grimace in annoyance.
“I only meant until you get the background check results and can confirm that falling in love with her is safe.”
“Dare …” I growl in impatiently.
He winks. “I’ll never lie to you. I know your bark is worse than your bite. And I’m your brother. We’re BFFs forever,” he chirps in a high-pitched voice.
“Shut up and get me the info,” I snap, and I hear his laughter when I press the end call button.
I got a call from the office in the middle of the wedding ceremony. I stepped out of the tiny seaside chapel to take it and I’ve been gone for more than an hour. I had been more than ready to go find Confidence, but I needed to call Dare first.
I walk back to the terrace where the tent has been set up for two days. During the day, the flaps are raised, and you can see clear to the horizon.
Tonight, it’s pouring rain outside. And the curtains are tightly closed against it. The ceiling is pitch black and blanketed with thousands of rows of twinkling lights in the shape of stars. Huge, lush trees with golden, round imitation fruit hanging off them line the walls and act as cover for the seating alcoves tucked into the corners of the space. There are flowers everywhere that complete the look. It sets a beautiful scene. Yet, it all fades into the background when I finally see her.
Nothing in this room is nearly as beautiful, original, or fresh as Confidence. I’ve thought of nearly nothing else since I laid eyes on her in the hallway.
Her golden spun hair is swept off her neck and face and piled in a mass of curls on the top of her head like a crown. She’s got some sort of jewelry interspersed in it and the stones fire like diamonds when they catch the lights from overhead. The thin white straps of her dress cling to her shoulders, but they look like they’d slip off at the slightest provocation.
A gust of wind.
The gentle nudge of my nose.
In the hungry grip of my teeth.
The lights overhead reflect on her bare back like a cloak of diamonds. How fucking appropriate.
I keep my eyes on her as I approach and watch the movements of her back and the elegant sway of her neck as she laughs at something. I can’t wait to press my lips to that sweet, fragrant skin.
Her hand slides up to caress the very spot I was just fantasizing about. Her fingers linger there and her head lolls slightly. And like she can sense me, she turns her graceful neck until she’s facing me.
The smile on her face when she sees me feels too good to be true. We hold eyes as I walk up to the table.
Am I being a fool?
Does it matter if it’s just going to be a few days of fun?
Will a few days of fun be enough? I push aside the unease that pings in my chest at that thought.
Conversation stops when I get to the table. I smile at them, greet a few by name. Their response is universal and reminds me why I sit by myself. They all congratulate me on my chairmanship and a few ask for a meeting.
When I’ve finally done my social duty, I smile down at Confidence. “Good evening.” A small dimple indents the middle of her right cheek. I run the tip of my finger over it and trace the underside of her lip. Her skin feels like the softest velvet. She blushes and tucks a thick strand of curls behind her ear and smiles wide.
“Did you rest this afternoon?” I tip her chin up with my finger and her delicate throat bobs.
Oh, yes. There’s something about her.
“Yeah, I did. How was work?” she asks. Her blue eyes catch the light and glimmer with desire. I stroke her shoulder and fiddle with the thin strap of her dress.
“I
wanted to come and see you, but—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Rivers.” A hand taps my sleeve, and I look down at the man sitting next to her. “Yes?” I glance down at him in irritation.
He gives me a wan smile and sits up straighter. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Giovanni Caselli.” He nods at Confidence. “I’m this young lady’s escort tonight. I met her in the bar—” I immediately tune him out.
“Would you like a drink?” I ask Confidence. She shoots a worried glance at her companion and then back at me. “Maybe a limoncello, but it can wait. You just got here,” she says.
“Mr. Caselli, if you would,” I look down at the third wheel and scowl. “I’ll have a whisky soda.”
He only hesitates for the blink of an eye before he stands up. “Oh, it would be my honor to fetch you a drink, Mr. Rivers,” he says. His thickly accented English is perfect and he bobs up and down. “Please feel free to use my seat while I’m gone.”
Fucking coward.
I lean in and whisper in his ear, “Invia un server con i nostri drink in modo da poterti concentrare sulla ricerca di un altro posto.” Send a waiter with our drinks and find yourself another seat.
His eyes widen at my directive, but he nods, bows to the rest of the table, and with a furtive, “Ciao” in Confidence’s direction, he darts off.
“What did you say to him?” she asks with a disapproving laugh. I drop down in the seat next to her and grab the leg of hers and drag it over.
“I thanked him for keeping my seat warm,” I say with a shrug. My eyes sweep the rest of the table, and a few of the eyes trained on us zip away. But a couple actually gawk for another second before they bend their heads together to gossip.
“Why is everyone staring?” she whispers, her eyes wide as she looks around the table.
“They’re shocked that I’m sitting here. I haven’t had a plus one in five years. For me, these events are about business. It’s a chance to catch people with their guard down, make a deal that would be impossible to hatch in a boardroom.”
“So, you don’t have business this time?” she asks.
“Yeah ... You,” I say.
She laughs. “You’re so smooth when you want to be,” she teases.