To Burn In Brutal Rapture

by Nyla K

  He chuckles and deposits me back on my feet, grinning a wide, beaming thing at me that’s so adorable I can’t even stand it. He holds my face, looking me over for a moment, his brows pushing together as his smile fades.

  “Why are you dressed like that?” He cringes at my attire.

  Glancing down at my dress, my brow furrows in worry that there’s something wrong with it. “Dressed like what?”

  “Like a… grown woman,” he says uneasily, to which I scoff and roll my eyes. “Dammit, Tiny, I’m not trying to murder any of my business associates tonight. I’ll end up in prison for manslaughter.”

  I giggle nervously, my mind instantly drifting to his best friend and the talented way he uses his hands and tongue on my most private place.

  Jesus… This isn’t good. I’m gonna puke.

  I clear my throat and play punch my father in the stomach, which makes him laugh. He’s obviously teasing me, but if he knew how factual his desire to murder his own business associate - his CFO - really was, I’m sure none of us would be laughing.

  “So, how’s the party so far?” I change the subject, glancing through the glass doors to the backyard where everyone is gathered, conversing, drinking and nibbling on fancy canapés.

  “It’s alright,” Dad shrugs, pushing my hair behind my ear with his fingers. “Typical boring business stuff. Laz is somewhere around here. You should go say hello.”

  A momentary lancing of nervous exhilaration seizes my heart at mention of Lazarus, but I ignore it, making my way to the doors with my dad on my arm.

  When we step outside, I hear the music of the band more clearly; a string quartet playing some smooth melodies that provide a soundtrack to all the money talk happening out here. Dad walks me down the steps over to a cabana where Lazarus is talking to a group of two men and two women. My eyes stay on him, like lightweight metal to the sturdy draw of his magnetic power.

  He’s just so captivating, I wouldn’t be able to look away from him if I tried. Not to mention painfully beautiful, in his navy blue trousers, dark button-down with matching blue vest and a pale-pink bowtie, which seems like the opposite of what you’d expect someone like him to be wearing, but it works.

  More than. He looks fantastic. Like a model or a celebrity. Oozing class and sophistication, and yet still possessing that wicked vibe from the visible tattoos. He’s the perfect mix of baroque decadence and mysterious danger. Light and dark. Good and evil.

  Mmm, and yum.

  I bite my lip as we approach, watching Lazarus speak animatedly, gesturing with his hands about something he must feel at least mildly passionate about. He certainly has the attention of the people he’s speaking to, a visibly different attention from the women, who are both biting their lips like me. It makes me smile, but I hide it when Lazarus notices Dad and me, turning to give us both a small grin.

  “Tracien,” he places a large hand on my shoulder, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “You look ravishing, as always.”

  My cheeks flush, though I try to brush him off by rolling my eyes, which makes him chuckle. I do it mostly for show in front of my dad, to keep myself from visibly lusting after his best friend, but also a little for Lazarus, since I know he likes when I give him attitude. He likes it when I fight with him, though he also seems to like when I offer myself up on a silver platter.

  In short, Lazarus has no idea what he wants. But as long as it’s me in some sense, I can’t complain.

  My dad introduces me to the gentlemen Lazarus was talking to as the wealthy investors for whom this party is being hosted. They seem pleased with Westright, and though I don’t pretend to know much about my father and Laz’s business, apparently these gentlemen own a solid chunk of Atlanta, and are here strictly to see for themselves what Damien Wright and Lazarus Weston are all about.

  So I play the polite and dutiful daughter, speaking to them about Miami, but listening more than anything. As out of my element as I am with the business stuff, I’m enjoying hearing Lazarus talk. He’s so passionate about the numbers of it all, and I love seeing his eyes lit up with fierce confidence in his work. It just makes me want him more, not like I really need a reason for that.

  When the secret swooning over Lazarus gets to be too much, I excuse myself to get a drink. Since I know no one will say anything about me being underage, I grab a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, taking a sip and letting the cool, fizzy liquid give me a little pep. Walking around the edge of the backyard, I check out all the plants and flowers I’ve missed looking at since I moved.

  We’ve always had gardeners to take care of the trees and vegetation on our property, because even though Mom loved gardens, her thumb wasn’t exactly green. And Dad wouldn’t know the first thing about catering to living things that aren’t human. But it meant a lot to my mother to have beautiful, colorful flowers around, and the lemon trees she adored. So Dad kept them maintained even after she passed.

  I stroll over to the lemon tree and run my fingers over the leaves. I have to say, I miss seeing this every morning. Gazing out over the rainbow of petals was always my favorite part of doing yoga in the backyard.

  A memory of my mother and I sitting in lotus position, beside this very lemon tree when it first started sprouting new leaves, pops into my head and stabs my heart. My lungs tighten and it becomes painful to breathe.

  I still miss her so much, and I just wonder if there will ever come a time when it won’t hurt to think about her…

  “Well, well, well,” a vaguely familiar voice startles me, and I jump. “Look who it is.”

  Turning my face, my jaw ticks. It’s fucking John, or whatever his real name is. The creep from the club.

  Great. There goes any chance of having a good time tonight.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he smirks while looking me over, giving me the strong desire to cover myself up.

  “Yea. I could say the same,” I mutter, trying not to be overly bitchy.

  “Who are you here with?” He glances around as if expecting to see my date lurking in the shadows.

  I’m relieved he doesn’t seem to know who my father is, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until he puts two and two together.

  Fuck… What if he says something? I should find Lazarus. I need to know who this guy is to them and how well he knows my dad.

  “Um, my date is around here somewhere,” I lie, backing away slowly. “I should probably go find him. Nice to see you… John.”

  I shoot him a knowing glare that has his brown eyes darkening. He’s giving me a gross look, and if I don’t leave now, I’m sure I’ll end up kicking him in the nuts pretty damn soon.

  I go to walk away, but he grabs my arm. Not hard, but it’s still unwanted, and I gulp back minute dread, glancing around frantically for someone to save me from this nonsense.

  “Hey, not so fast.” He steps in front of me. “You know, I’ve been itching to get you alone, but you’re always brushing me off at the club. What’s wrong, Trixie? You think I don’t have enough cash to pay for your time?”

  I narrow my gaze at his disgusting face. “I’m not a hooker, John. I dance at the club. That’s it. Just dance.”

  “Well, your coworkers seem to be more accommodating than you are, I’ll tell you that much,” he huffs. “Are you too good for a little something extra?”

  “Look, I don’t have time for this,” I toss back the rest of my glass of champagne, shoving the glass at him. “I’m going to find my date.”

  His fingers dig harder into my arm. “I’ll buy you from him.”

  “Let go of me,” I hiss and he chuckles, the depravity behind those shit brown eyes sickening me to my stomach.

  “What’s going on over here?”

  Both of our heads snap in the direction of the voice I recognize instantly, watching as Lazarus walks over with a look on his face that’s downright chilling. Relief floods my stomach at the sight of him, though now I’m nervous for John. I’m sure Lazarus could do m
uch more painful things to him than I could.

  John drops my arm. “Just having a conversation with my friend. What’s it to you, Weston?”

  “She’s not your friend, and it doesn’t look like she’s interested in whatever conversation you’re trying to have,” Lazarus speaks steadily, cold and calculating. It gives me chills that zip from my nipples straight between my thighs. “I suggest you move along now, Ted.”

  Ted. Okay. His name is Ted. Good to know.

  “What do you have to do with this girl?” The annoying creep, Ted, asks in a condescending tone that clenches Lazarus’s jaw visibly. “She’s obviously too young to be your date.”

  Oh my God, I so want to punch this asshole in the dick right now. He looks like he’s at least ten years older than Lazarus!

  “All you need to know is that she has nothing to do with you.” Laz lifts his brows as if he’s speaking to a child. I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t laugh out loud. “Time to go bother someone else.”

  Ted scoffs and opens his mouth for a rebuttal, but Lazarus takes a half-step toward him and he backs up.

  “Whatever…” He turns and stalks off, shaking his head and still carrying my empty champagne glass.

  I can’t believe how this one five-minute interaction made Lazarus a zillion times hotter in my eyes. I think my panties are actually dropping on their own.

  He turns to me and rakes long fingers through his hair. “Are you alright?”

  The concern in his gray eyes gives me the warm and fuzzies. “Yea, I’m good. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. That guy’s a piece of trash,” his head shakes. “Don’t let him get you alone again. I don’t trust him in the slightest.”

  “Yea, me either.” I want so badly to lean into him and let him wrap his strong arms around me. He smells good enough to eat. “How do you know him?”

  “That’s Jerald Cartwell’s partner. Theodore Jennings III. But we call him Ted because he hates it.” He lets a chuckle slip and I grin.

  Note to self, call that guy Ted as much as possible.

  “You mean he works with Evangeline’s father?” I scrunch my face in disgust. Anything that links to Evangeline makes me angry. “Is Jerald here?”

  “Not yet, but he’ll probably show up soon,” Lazarus sighs. “I’m hoping to avoid him.”

  “I don’t blame you,” I mumble. He cocks his head to the side, showing me a pleased little smirk. “That guy, Ted Jennings, he comes into Boom Boom all the time with his friends. He’s always trying to get me to take him in the back.”

  The amusement falls off Laz’s face and his eyes harden. “Is that so?”

  I nod and swallow my nerves, recognizing that he’s looking a little murdery right now. “Yea. I keep brushing him off, and apparently he’s salty about it. That’s why he was cornering me. Lazarus, he doesn’t know who my father is. Do you think he’ll find out and say something?”

  “I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” he says firmly, and I have to take him at his word. He’s very commanding. He places his hand discreetly on my lower back and my entire body shivers. “Come on, let’s get back to the party. Have you eaten anything?”

  I gaze up at him and bite my lip, which brings another tiny smirk to his lips, which he’s clearly trying to cover up.

  “Don’t give me that look, Little Trick,” he warns. “I’m already finding it very difficult to be around you right now.”

  My heart skips in my chest as I suppress the desire to squeal and attack him with kisses.

  “Mmm, and why’s that?” My lashes flutter up at his face.

  “I wasn’t lying before.” He leans in an inch closer. “You look delicious. Meaning I’d really like to taste you.”

  A small whimper escapes me, and he chuckles seductively.

  “Can we go somewhere private?” I plead, as softly as possible. His gray eyes twinkle at me. “Just for a minute…”

  “First of all, I’m offended you think I only need a minute,” he grins, and I’m ready to collapse. The flirty, teasingly affectionate Lazarus is here tonight, and he’s one of my all-time favorites. “Second of all, you know we can’t do that. Now, stop being obstinate and let me get you some food. They have coconut shrimp.”

  My stomach rumbles as soon as the words leave his mouth. “I love coconut shrimp.”

  “I know,” he says matter-of-factly, sweeping his fingers along my back before nudging me along.

  I follow him mindlessly, all the while mesmerized at how he seems to remember so many things about me. Things that I would never in a million years expect him to remember, like what kinds of food I like, my favorite music, and even things I mentioned so long ago I barely remember telling him.

  As it would seem, I’m not the only one who pays attention to details. And I know Lazarus found these things out about me because I’m his best friend’s daughter, but it’s possible he held onto them for the same reason I’ve held onto every insignificant detail about him over the years.

  Because I’m important to him.

  Lazarus leaves me at the buffet table to go find my dad, and much to my disappointment and irritation, I only get to enjoy one coconut shrimp before I see Ted approaching to ruin my meal. I duck inside and down a couple more glasses of liquid courage so I don’t have to deal with him.

  Without even really noticing, I’ve killed four glasses of champagne by the time I’m desperately trying to escape the prying eyes of crusty old rich dudes. My dad and Lazarus are busy hosting, and I’m bored.

  I sneak off to the bathroom and sniff a line of Xanax, just to loosen up a little. I’m finding it difficult to be in the presence of Lazarus without touching him, just a little. I imagine how satisfying it would be to walk up to him while he’s talking to his clients and wrap my arm around his waist, nestling up to his side and inhaling his delicious Lazarus smell, like sweets and earthy woodsy stuff; maybe S’mores over a campfire. Something like that.

  He’d look down at me, wearing a pleasant smile on his pouty lips and kiss my hair before returning to his conversation, holding me close and just reveling in the comfort of us being together.

  I’m craving something like that with him. Something real, and I’m not sure it’ll ever happen. It’s the most devastating uncertainty I’ve felt since Mom was sick.

  Tripping over my heel coming out of the bathroom, I giggle to myself, the drugs floating through my bloodstream mixing with the alcohol to make my limbs weightless. I’m stress free as I head back outside to find Lazarus, so maybe I can whisper-tell him he looks sexy and see if he’ll come over tonight.

  I’ve been meandering around for a few minutes, dodging Ted at all costs, when I spot my dad. He sees me and smiles, sidling up to tuck me into his side.

  “Hey, muffin.” He kisses the top of my head. “How you holding up? Bored yet?”

  “Always,” I tease while my eyes subtly dart around to make sure Ted isn’t watching this encounter.

  Despite the fuzz-buzz from the drugs and alcohol, I’m still nervous that asshole is going to say something to my dad about knowing me from the strip club. I’d have to imagine it’s not exactly professional to talk to your business associates about what you like to do for your own personal entertainment, but Ted doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who cares much about tact.

  “Well, I think you can put up with a boring party to humor your dear old dad,” my father peeks down at me.

  “Aw, come on, Dad. You’re not that old,” I sneer, and he fakes a laugh which makes me chuckle for real.

  “How’s the yoga stuff going?” He asks, stepping in front of me to provide his full attention.

  “It’s going great. I’m teaching most of the beginner classes and I’m learning as much as I’m teaching. The twins have been amazing. I can’t believe how much they took a chance on me, without knowing me at all.”

  “It’s because you’re fantastic. Anyone who doesn’t see that is missing out.” He grins in that fatherly way that always mak
es me pout, because he’s just the best dad ever. I’m blessed to have him.

  “So, do you need any… money?” His voice goes quiet and hesitant, as if he expects me to attack him for asking such a question.

  I wouldn’t go that far, but it definitely rolls my eyes. “No, Father. I’m fine. I’m handling everything on my own. Still.”

  “I know, I know, but I have to ask,” he gives me the Dad look, which I return with a give it a rest that always shuts him right up. I learned it from my mother and it’s rather effective. “Message received. For now. Anyway, have you eaten? They have coconut -”

  His voice comes to an abrupt halt, his eyes widening and locking on something behind me. His mouth drops open in shock, which prompts me to turn around and see what the hell has him so startled.

  “Fuck…” Dad mumbles at the same time that my stomach drops so fast it almost makes a splat noise on the marble tiles.

  Fucking Evangeline?!

  An electric fury weaves through my chest, tightening muscles all over my body as I watch Lazarus’s ex-fiancée trotting through the entrance to our patio on the arm of her father, Jerald Cartwell.

  “The fuck is she doing here?” I seethe, and my dad clears his throat. I glare up at him and he down at me, mouth still agape in utter perplexity.

  “No clue.” He sounds every bit as hoarse with rage as I am. I can actually feel the wrath radiating off of him. “I most certainly did not invite her.”

  My heart does a thick, hard jump. “Do you think Lazarus invited her…?” I’m really not trying to seem so hurt by this, but I can’t help it. Why would he do something like that?

  “No fucking way,” Dad shakes his head vehemently. “He wouldn’t do that and not tell me. Jerald is obviously trying to be a conniving asshole.”

  Dad’s head darts around in search of Lazarus, and I follow his gaze until we both spot him talking to some people, smiling - as much as he does, anyway - and sipping his drink. Easy and casual. He clearly has no idea his ex is here. He’ll probably be pissed.

  I should go kick her ass.

  My father stiffens by my side as Jerald and his bitch daughter step up to us, looking way too rich and far too smug. It’s insulting and I now want to kick both of their asses.