by K. C. Crowne
It was a fleeting sensation, though, once I slid into my seat and found myself inches away from Jesse. The smell of his cologne grew that much stronger in the enclosed space.
I was honestly afraid to touch anything for fear of breaking something. I’d never be able to pay for the repairs.
“Buckle up,” he ordered.
I tried to pull my seatbelt down, but the mechanism locked. I tried again, but it wouldn’t budge. Mild panic gripped my throat. Why couldn’t I handle something as simple as putting on my seatbelt?
“Um, Jesse? It’s not…”
“Here,” he said gently. “Sometimes it’s finicky.”
Before I had the chance to think, Jesse leaned over the center console and reached across my body, expertly tugging the seatbelt free.
He was close. Really close. So close I couldn’t help but stare at his lips and drown in the warmth that radiated off his body. I easily and willingly fell into his orbit, lacking the strength and willpower to pull myself away.
My face burned with the fire of a thousand suns when the softest of sighs bubbled past my lips. Jesse looked me in the eye. He definitely heard it. I tried to play the whole thing off with a dramatic stretch and yawn, taking the now free seat belt from him to buckle up.
“Goodness,” I said way too loudly, “would you look at the time?”
Jesse glanced at the time on the Porsche’s bright display screen. It was only 10:00 p.m.
“Let’s get you home, then,” he said without the faintest hint of judgement.
I was thankful he kept his eyes on the road the entire time, because I didn’t know what I’d do if he realized just how red in the face I was.
I lived on the second floor of a small apartment complex on the corner of Western and Fifth. It was crammed between a massive skyscraper and a twenty-four-hour sub shop, the latter of which was a lifesaver when those late-night study session cravings hit. It wasn’t exactly living in the lap of luxury, but it was comfortable enough.
After years of moving from house to house —family to family— this tiny, one-bedroom apartment was the first place I’d ever considered home. My scholarships could only cover so much, and housing subsidies only got me so far, but I was smart enough to start saving the second I was old enough to get a part-time job in high school. I had enough saved that by the time I signed my first lease, I could afford to decorate it from head to toe in whatever I could find and flip at the local consignment store.
The couch was lumpy. The accent rug in the living room was fraying at the ends. The dining table and matching chairs in the kitchen were covered in all sorts of scratches and dings. And the TV I found half off at a nearby pawn shop only had seven channels, all of which were grainy.
It wasn’t much, but it was still mine.
Jesse pulled the car up to the curb. I fully expected him to say good night and peel off into the distance, but he parked and got out with me. He looked very out of place here with his high-end sports car and bespoke suit.
I finally had a good look at him. Things were so chaotic at the bar that I barely had time to register him and his sudden presence. One second I was fending off unwanted advances, and the next I found myself totally safe.
He towered over me like a mountain, every inch of him chiseled and refined. I didn’t know what a man like Jesse would be doing at a bar like the Snapdragon. He would have looked much more at home at the Four Seasons or the Ritz.
That was the vibe I got from him, anyways. He liked the finer things in life. Hundred-thousand-dollar luxury car. Rolex watches that could pay my rent five times over. An air of power and control that followed him wherever he went.
It was hard to believe that he and Wally were related. They couldn’t be more different. The first and most notable difference was that, unlike Wally, Jesse walked me straight to my door. Wally wasn’t a jerk or anything, it was just a super archaic thing to do in this day and age. Gentlemen and the like were rarer than diamonds.
Jesse looked around as we strode down the hall together. My apartment was at the very end. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell by the slight curl of his nose that he didn’t approve of the place.
“Safe neighborhood?” he asked.
I nodded. “As safe as it can get in Chicago.” Even I knew that wasn’t saying much. I unlocked the door quickly and looked up at him with a smile. “Well, this is me.”
Jesse scrutinized the lock. “That doesn’t look very sturdy.”
“It’s not, but I’ve got one of these.” I reached into my handy messenger bag and pulled my portable lock out to show him. “Pretty nifty, right? Bought it off Amazon years ago.” He didn’t look convinced, but I pressed on. “Besides, my neighbors are all really nice. Except for that guy on the ground floor next to the boiler room. Pretty sure he’s a drug dealer, but he’s relatively harmless.”
Jesse frowned. “A drug dealer who’s harmless. Talk about an oxymoron.”
I laughed. “I was joking.”
“About a drug dealer living in your building or being harmless?”
“Which one sounds worse?”
“They both sound equally bad. You should report him.”
“Charlie’s not that bad. He helped me move some boxes when I moved in.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, that makes up for his morally questionable profession.”
“Whatever pays the bills.”
“You’re surprisingly calm about it.”
I shrugged. “I’ve seen much worse. Charlie keeps to himself, so—”
“Much worse?”
I swallowed. I didn’t mean to let that slip. It was all in the past now, but I went out of my way not to think about my childhood, easier to ignore it if I did. Pretend it never happened. I made it out alive and well and not nearly as jaded as the others. I didn’t get where I was today by letting it drag me down.
“Anyhoo…” I stepped into my apartment with a shaky laugh. “Thanks for the lift.”
“I hope you hear back from your friend.”
“I’m sure I will. Say hi to Wally for me?”
His shoulders tensed; the lines of his jaw suddenly hard. “Of course,” he said curtly. “Have a good night, Vivian.”
He walked away without another word, leaving me wondering if I’d accidentally offended him.
I retreated into my apartment, rubbing my cheeks with my palms. Did I forget to turn the heater down before I left? It was unbearably hot in here. Nothing a nice cold shower couldn’t fix.
The first thing I did before hopping into the shower was plug my phone in. The screen lit up, the battery icon glowing a dim green. Once there was enough juice, I checked my messages. Molly was normally very good about texting me. If something really did come up, she would have let me know. I probably just missed her message because my phone was dead.
No new messages.
I frowned. That was weird. “Maybe she forgot,” I mumbled to myself.
I stepped into the shower and washed my hair, massaging my vanilla-scented shampoo against my scalp. I breathed in the steam as the hot spray trickled over my skin, trying not to think about the embarrassing reaction I had in Jesse’s car.
The graze of his hand against my shoulder. The tickle of his breath on my cheek. The intensity of his eyes, the weight of his gaze.
I held my head under the showerhead and set the water to cold. I was still inexplicably warm by the time I got out.
Chapter 4
Jesse
I’ve seen much worse.
Her soft voice played on repeat in my mind. Gentle. Kind.
The faintest trace of something sad.
I rode the elevator from the underground parking garage all the way up to the twentieth floor. The doors opened directly into the penthouse suite, which could only be accessed via a programmable fob I had attached to my car keys.
It was only fitting that the head of a security firm outfitted his home like a fortress. Safety was always top of mind for me. And speaking of
safety…
Vivian.
Her entire neighborhood —not just her building— was questionable. I counted no less than seven broken streetlamps, only two patrol cars making their rounds when there should have been at least five, two shady deals in dark alleyways, and a significant homeless population camped out in the nearest public park.
Her apartment was also super sketchy. No doorman or concierge. No security cameras out front to keep an eye on people’s comings and goings. Her door was flimsy at best, though it was the door frame I took issue with. Medium density fiberboard. Cheap shit used to save contractors money. If someone wanted to get in, all it would take was a few good kicks. Her portable lock was laughably cute, though I silently gave her props for being prepared.
I knew it shouldn’t matter to me. We didn’t really know each other. It wasn’t my place to tell her how to beef up her security or recommend she carry around mace. But something deep down, some tiny voice in the back of my head, felt compelled to make sure she was alright. The logical side of me said I’d be overstepping. The illogical side…
The illogical side wanted to know what she had hidden under her shapeless blazer. Why would a gorgeous angel like her want to hide beneath such a modest getup? Its only purpose was to let my imagination run wild.
The penthouse lights switched on automatically as I passed through the living room and traipsed toward the kitchen, shrugging off my suit jacket and folding it over the back of the bar stool. I poured myself a finger of whiskey from the small liquor collection on my island bar. The liquid burned all the way down.
I had to stop thinking about her. I had to stop thinking about the way she smelled of vanilla and the way her cheeks and the tips of her ears turned pink when she was caught off guard. I had to stop thinking about the sound she made in the car, the light hitch of her breath when I reached over to help her.
Luscious black hair. Full, pink lips. Doe eyes with long, curling lashes that made my chest tighten. I could have kissed her right then. I’d wanted to. But that would have been wrong. Maybe that’s what I found so appealing.
I shook my head and finished my whiskey.
Something was wrong with me. It was inappropriate, being this turned on by someone so young. This desire I felt was alarming. Had I finally hit the threshold of becoming one of those dirty old men? My half-hard cock certainly thought so.
She was just so magnetic. Enticing. Good enough to eat.
My phone rang. I answered immediately even though it was well after business hours. The thing about being your own boss was you never had a day off. I was on-call at all times just in case one of the bodyguards on my roster needed assistance.
“Hey, Jesse,” came the overly sweet voice I recognized in an instant.
Melissa. Talk about a boner killer.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” Melissa cooed. “I just wanted to check on you.”
If that wasn’t a red flag, I didn’t know what was.
“You never check up on me unless you want something.”
“That’s not true, Jesse.”
“Get to the point or I’m hanging up.”
She sighed dramatically. “I need to borrow a thousand dollars.”
Red flag number two.
“Borrow? Or spend and never pay me back.”
“Look, I’m in a bit of a bind.”
“Not my problem. I already pay you alimony out the ass. Go ask that son of a bitch boy toy of yours.”
“Alexei isn’t a boy toy.”
“Goodbye, Melissa—”
“Wait, wait!” she exclaimed. “Come on, Jesse. Won’t you please be reasonable? You make tons more now than when we got divorced. A grand means nothing to you.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t.”
“So can’t you spot me the money?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What do you need it for?”
“I made a bad bet,” she replied coolly. “Thought I’d try my luck at my girlfriend’s poker game. I just wanted to have some fun, but I wound up losing more than I bargained.”
“This sounds like a you problem.”
“Jesse,” she said, lowering her voice. “Please? For old time’s sake? You used to take care of things like this for me all the time when we were together. Didn’t all that time mean anything to you?”
I had to give credit where credit was due. Melissa always knew how to get me right in the gut.
Of course our time together meant something to me. In fact, it had meant everything. I’d loved Melissa with all my heart. She was the first and only woman I’d ever truly loved. I was poorer then. Just an Army man counting down the days I had left on each tour to motivate me until I could get back to her. I wanted to give her everything. Would have worked my hands to the bone to give her a good life.
Then I came home early from overseas to find her in our bed with another man.
She tore our family apart. She destroyed our marriage. And worst of all, she broke me.
And if she thought she could weaponize what I once felt for her into doing her bidding, she was more of a brazen idiot than I gave her credit for.
“No,” I said flatly. “Out of the question.”
“Jesse—”
“I said no.”
The line went so quiet I thought Melissa hung up on me.
“You’re a prick, you know that?” she seethed. “I never ask you for any favors. I just need your help this one time, James. I should have known you’d be this cold, you selfish asshole.”
I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t any point. Melissa would only scream over me, and I’d rather not waste my energy or breath attempting to get a word in. It was much more entertaining to listen to my ex-wife make a fool of herself. Her venomous words didn’t affect me like they used to. I was numb to her criticisms at this point. Like listening to white noise. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of breaking me again.
“You’re so fucking self-centered, you know that? Alexei’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.”
I forced a smile and spoke through gritted teeth. “Then why don’t you ask to borrow his money?”
“Listen here, you son of a—”
I hung up and tossed my phone onto the counter. God. What a way to end the day.
The elevator pinged softly, alerting me of someone’s arrival. Only two other people in the world had programmed fobs that gave them access to the penthouse: the building manager and my son.
Wally strode in, a heavy backpack slung over his shoulder. He dropped it by the couch and toed off his shoes. He looked disheveled with his baggy jeans and oversized band t-shirt. I would never understand my son’s insistence on wearing gold chains and his hair up in a bun. He looked like he lived at a skatepark, not in a luxury condo on the upper-class side of Chicago.
“Hey, Dad,” he said groggily.
“Hey. How’d that biology test go?”
He handed me a handful of papers, all of them stapled neatly in the upper left-hand corner. Red check marks littered the pages, a massive 100% scrawled on the front. A perfect score.
I flipped to the back and frowned. “You didn’t get the bonus?”
Wally rolled his eyes. “Nobody did.”
“You’re smarter than them,” I insisted. “You should have been able to get it.”
My son groaned. “Would it kill you to tell me I did a good job? Or would you require a blue moon?”
I nodded slowly. “No, you’re right. Good job, kid.”
He looked at me expectantly. “But?” he supplied.
“But I heard back from Mrs. Packer today. She called the office and let me know you skipped MCAT tutoring again.” Wally tried to walk right past me and head to his room, but I put a hand on his shoulder and reeled him in. “Come on, man. We talked about this. You need the extra practice.”
Wally chewed on the inside of his cheek. I didn’t understand why he looked so nervous. “About that… Dad
, I wanted to talk to you about—”
I snapped my fingers, a thought suddenly occurring to me. “Actually, I just remembered… I reached out to Vincent Hargrove this morning.”
Wally frowned. “Vincent Hargrove? As in the head of the Department of Health?”
I nodded. “He hired Pegasus Star at the last minute to run point for his daughter’s security team while she’s visiting Seattle. He owes me a number of favors, so I asked if he could give you a summer internship working for him.”
“Dad, I don’t—”
“You’d start in May, once the semester’s over. It’d look great on your applications to med school.”
Wally grimaced. “You really shouldn’t have, Dad.”
“Anything to give you a leg up. Trust me, it’s not what you know, but who you know.”
“No, I mean you really shouldn’t have, Dad. I already have plans for the summer.”
I set my jaw. “Doing what?”
He scratched behind his ear. “Well, there’s actually this program in Paris that I really want to attend.”
I smiled, pride rising in my chest. “That’s great.”
“It is?”
“Yes, of course. I’m glad you’re finally taking some initiative with regards to your career. What hospital is it with? I guess nothing beats field training—”
“It’s not for med school,” Wally snapped, exasperated. “It’s for a culinary program.”
“A culinary program?” I echoed. Disbelief washed over me. This was coming out of left field and I wasn’t prepared to make the catch. “Why would you want to attend a culinary program? That wouldn’t benefit your resume in the slightest. I’m not paying for you to goof off.”
“Oh my God, Dad,” he grumbled.
“What?”
“You never listen.”
“What are you talking about? I’m listening right now, and what I’m hearing is that you don’t want to apply yourself and do something beneficial for your future.”
“No, you’re not—” Wally huffed. “Never mind. Forget it.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To bed. I’m tired.”