by Eden O'Neill
And woman, she was. Not a miss, or a girl. A straight nose sloped and complemented her cupid’s bow, her lips like two full strokes of a paint brush. I didn’t paint a lot, more a fan of physical art with hard metals and fortified steel. I was into metalwork when I could, sculpting.
She had hard yet striking angles to some of the more softer elements of her face, her nose buttoned at the tip and her overall face shaped like a heart. She was also intentional and completely deliberate in the way she stared at me. It took me a second to realize her ruby-red lips were actually speaking to me.
And when I did, I questioned verbal assault.
“Can I help you?” she gritted, the stark raven glow of her eyes glaring at me. Her head lowered. “Are you hard of hearing?”
The fuck?
Now, I didn’t come at this woman wrong at all. Actually, I came as a concerned citizen.
I was questioning that now, a slow raise of my eyebrow. “I suppose I wondered if you were all right up here.”
She had been up here… by herself, alone and with a bottle of wine.
I eyed it. Though, she refused to peel her gaze away from me. If anything, she watched my shoes, as if cautious for an advance. I stayed in my place. “I wanted to know if everything was okay.”
“Obviously.” Another heated jab. This woman was goddamn beautiful, but her tone certainly didn’t match. At least, not at the present. She angled a look over the side. “You can carry on now.”
Wow.
I didn’t consider myself a glutton for punishment, but this woman didn’t seem all right and was up here by herself. I shifted, and that dark mane of hers sliced the air so quick when she turned, I questioned the whiplash of her neck. She kept her eyes trained on me, obviously not wanting me to move.
Yeah, she wasn’t okay.
This didn’t feel okay. At all.
Again, I stayed where I was and to let her know I’d continue doing so, I placed a hand on the high dive’s handrails. “What are you doing up here?”
She said nothing. I guess not one for small talk, but she did face forward. Her fingers curled so hard on the edge I questioned if she would push off, go in.
Would I catch her? Go in after her? Chivalry wasn’t dead in me so I probably would, but I wondered if she’d hit me or something if I tried. This woman seemed a little unbalanced.
I lowered and found her eyes on me again, calculated and intensely observant. What I wouldn’t give to have her in front of a canvas. She actually made me want to paint, funny enough. “Can I have your name?”
A new angle and definitely going out on a limb. She hadn’t answered me the first time.
“Brielle.” An arctic bite to the word as her gaze appraised me, not completely hopeless tonight in the five-thousand-dollar suit Prinze also made us buy. He’d wanted us to match him and honestly, the cash was a drop in the bucket for most of us. Many of our fathers, uncles, and grandfathers built this town, my dad an immigrant but held so many small businesses and real estate properties under his name, he had enough to buy out many of Maywood Heights’ founding members three hundred times over. Shit, this town had even given him the key to the city.
He had been the mayor.
Not for a while now but he had been, that legacy there. It followed me to this day being his only son, and though I got the grades at Brown, I basically only had to make a call to get myself on the Pembroke University campus for the upcoming spring semester—of my senior year. It’d been really rather easy.
My father had funded five resident halls.
That’d been before he’d been incarcerated obviously, but still, the Mallick name held some clout. I used it to my advantage where I could and tossed it to the wayside in any other situation. I had, for all intents and purposes, all but disassociated myself from my father the day he’d decided to do some dirty shit with my uncle Leo. I had no problem using his name, though. I figured it was the least he could do for me.
Brielle eyed the fruits of my father’s labor now, but I wasn’t quite sure for the price tag. I’d left my suit jacket below. But in its absence, her gaze drifted over my broad shoulders and down sleeves the seamstress may have cut a few corners on, a smidgen tighter across my biceps and forearms than I would like. I hadn’t complained, the rest of the suit a perfect fit from the way the trousers allowed what could be considered thick runner’s legs to move. I did a lot of cardio, but I worked out my legs probably more than I should. It was awesome for my endurance but sucked for speed. I’d always been a bit of a gym junky, played ball in school and just liked the way my body felt when I kept it in shape. I could eat pizza like the best of them, though.
Brielle’s gaze lingered on the area of my squatted thighs before coming up, and though I didn’t consider myself shy, I was hella aware of her eyes on me. This woman was beyond a knockout, gorgeous from her soft face shape to the way her full tits hugged and swelled above her dress’s bodice. I knew way more than I wanted to about dresses these days thanks to a certain bride, and Brielle filled out the A-line in a way that allowed me to be completely observant of how the sea of black material flared widely over her thick hips and gave peeks of her shapely legs. Something told me she ran too, her calves smooth and defined, and with her tanned skin, glowed like trapped sunshine. Her feet bare and hair raven black, Brielle resembled a temptress in the night, all woman as she sat wrapped softly in the teal hue of the House’s aquatic center.
I opened my hands, placing one to my chest. “Ramses. Nice to meet you, Brielle.”
Though I wasn’t sure the sentiment was shared, her expression more than cautious, observant. That hadn’t let up since I’d arrived up here, which I suppose made sense. This woman didn’t know me at all.
A nod in her direction as she watched me, and when I lost her gaze again, I questioned my progress. I felt like I should keep her talking.
“You, uh, been drinking, Brielle?” I stated, my next question. I pointed at the bottle. “Seems like it.”
She took no notice of that. Like I said, she wouldn’t even look at me. But she did face down after I said it, her shoulders lifting.
“Bottle’s full,” she whispered, again gritted. “And I guess I suck at being alone.”
Struck me funny since, apparently, I had attempted to do that tonight too. I put out a hand. “Mind if I sit with you then?”
Shoulders instantly locked, and when her fingers curled white over the edge, I instantly questioned what I’d asked.
She said she wanted to be alone.
But I didn’t want her to be. Honestly, I didn’t care what she did once she got down from this high dive, but I didn’t think she should be up here by herself. It could be dangerous. It was fucking high up and if she fell and hit the wrong angle, disaster.
“If you must,” she said, the dark strobe light of her eyes in my direction. “Ramses.”
She’d emphasized my name, and I wasn’t sure I didn’t like it, enjoying the way it sounded in the smoky tone of her voice.
My lips twitching right, I eased down a seat beside her. Though, far enough away to keep the full bottle of wine between us. Another question. Who didn’t drink when they obviously intended to?
Yet another question about this mysterious girl. This mysterious woman. “You, um, weren’t planning on jumping off this thing tonight. Were you, Brielle?”
So quick her gaze swung in my direction, lashes of an ebony black fanning over her irises. “Why would you ask me that?”
Because it appeared to be true, and taking my leg, I propped it up on the ledge, my other dangling. Truth be told, I’d dicked around on this thing myself like a million and a half years ago. But that’d been when I was thirteen and hadn’t completely fully grasped the finality of death. Sure, I’d jumped off this thing and hadn’t died, but thinking back on some of the things I’d done off this ledge and at this level had my twenty-two-year-old self wanting to kick my own ass. It was fucking high up. Actual Olympians trained off this shit. We’d had more
than one roll through here. Hell, we’d had presidents come through these halls. Being a member of the Court held prestige and typically opened a lot of doors for a guy and now, girls. For years, the Court had been archaic and not allowed women in, but this changed when Royal Prinze became president of the association after high school.
All the Court “honor” had done for me in the past was haunt, but not everyone could say that, I suppose. I laced my fingers together. “Well, are you?”
An honest question and I wondered her answer. If she’d actually tell me the reason as she wet her lips. She wore a red matte to the full width, lipsticks I knew entirely too much about as well. I’d watched enough contouring YouTube videos for a lifetime thanks to December Prinze, and the beauty vloggers who shot them often paired the look with a lipstick that didn’t easily rub off, one that could withstand many maneuvers of eating or drinking.
Or bruising.
I couldn’t help but imagine Brielle’s lips doing that as she moved one over the other, a slight pierce hitting her temple when her jaw worked. She had a dark beauty mark right above the left side of her lip, a soft mole which twitched when her lips moved. “I don’t know why you’d ask me that.”
And I noticed she hadn’t answered, either on purpose or because she didn’t know and didn’t want to talk to me.
“Well, I guess just let me know if you decide to jump.” I shrugged. “You know, before?”
“Why?”
I faced her, fighting the grin tugging at my lips, and her eyes flashed wide.
“I mean,” she started, gnawing her lip. A huff and she was tossing her head back. “That’s not what I meant. You…” She shook her head. “You tricked me or something.”
“No trick.” I lifted the hand from my leg. “I was just a concerned citizen, and it can be dangerous up here.”
She passed me a sharp look, and when she shifted her full body in my direction, I had a moment where the lungs didn’t exactly connect to the brain so to speak. Where I had to remind the guys to do their job, or like, well, die. I’d breathed a million times before this moment. Possibly a million and a half, but who was counting.
Brielle in that stark black dress floored this guy, shocked still where I sat with just a look from her. She had an essence about her, a maturity that demanded me to stop and simply take notice.
I wet my lips. “Anyway, like I said, it can be dangerous. Definitely not a place to be playing around.”
I angled my whole body in her direction too, and though she’d been more casual about taking me in, she did notice. Her eyes flashed across the entire width of my shoulders before finding my eyes. Did she find me attractive as well? Hell, if I was hiding looking at her. She was probably one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. In fact, top of the charts.
She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, flashing a single diamond in my direction. It brought a sparkle out in her eyes like nothing else. “I’m not playing around,” she gritted, eyes narrow. “And you shouldn’t have assumed I’m up here to jump.”
“But aren’t you?” I opened up my hand. “You’re up here. By yourself with a bottle of wine.”
“And you’re forward,” she huffed. “Also, quite possibly a little arrogant.”
My eyes flashed. Arrogant was not something I’d been called much. At least, not to my face. I’d had bouts of it back in the day, but today, I was more confident than anything else. When it came to things I wanted, I went for it, you know, only living once and all that. If life taught me one thing, there wasn’t time to pussyfoot through it in wait of second chances. There were no second chances for some of us.
This logic had gotten me in trouble in the past, but no, I didn’t consider myself arrogant. But I did go after things I wanted, and right now, I wanted this woman off this ledge and to the safety of her own two feet. Fuck, I wanted my feet down there with her. I wasn’t trying to play around up here in a five-thousand-dollar suit. I grinned. “If that’s what you think.”
“Oh, I do.” She faced away, blinking. But when she shook her head, I noticed something.
A smile.
It touched her left eye, those smooth lips painted in matte red. A hint of it, a wince even before the expression eased away, and I decided to take a gamble. She’d called me arrogant.
May as well give her what she wanted.
“How about we make a wager?” I asked, getting her attention. “We thumb war for it. You know the game?”
She gave me a look like I was a goddamn idiot, but I’d done that on purpose. Call me a selfish guy, but I wanted another one of those heart-stopping smiles, which I got (a little) when she faced my way. She lifted a naked shoulder. “What are we playing for?”
“For you to go down there,” I said, directing a finger once more below. “But via the stairs. You do that, go down there with me if I win.”
“And if I win?”
Easy too. “You get to stay up here. All by your lonesome.”
“Meaning you’ll leave.”
Ouch, but I had invaded her clear intent for solitude. Because of that, I refused to take much offense. I nodded. “I’ll leave. You’ll be here all alone, and really, you can’t lose here.” One way gave her the peace and solitude she desired.
The other way gave her me.
Maybe I was a little arrogant, but she fascinated me, her grit and so obvious I don’t give a fuck mentality. This woman, should she be so inclined, would probably set my ass on fire if it suited her, which probably should scare me more than it did. It didn’t, though, not really. I wanted to see what she’d do.
I wanted to see what she’d let me do.
If she’d allow me to wrap her into a choice, possibly take away hers personally. She clearly was a fan of control.
Her delicate throat shifted, working as she seemingly considered the decision. Without words, she put out her hand.
“I win, you leave,” she said, gifting me with a rare smile. This woman flashed about as many as Prinze. She pointed. “You said.”
I did say that.
I gave her my hand, hers smooth and flawless as mine swallowed the digits up. There were few parts of this, quite frankly, string-bean body of mine that didn’t come with extended height or thick width. I was just shy of six-foot-eight, had the wingspan of basically an eagle, and it was truly fucking scary how many shoes on this planet came nowhere close to fitting me. I’d actually had to have shoes made coming up, and let’s not even get started on how many women I’d literally freaked the fuck out in the sheets. A lot of guys joked about being, erm, um, big down there and thought of it like something of a trophy. Not the goddamn curse it’d been for me on more than one occurrence. Besides having to worry about the way certain pants fit, it took a woman with stamina and a high pain threshold to handle the son of a bitch.
That wasn’t even me bragging.
In the case of my hands, though, I found I enjoyed the way Brielle’s petite digits lost themselves beneath mine, how soft and delicate they were. I decided to fasten our hands only slightly, worried about breaking her, but she hadn’t held back with me. She had a firm grip, as hard and rough-edged as she seemed to be.
I counted us down, our thumbs going back and forth. How odd we were doing this. I hadn’t played this game since I was a kid.
A flourish of excitement appeared to pass behind her eyes as well, but damn if she let it out. The only indicator had been her eyes, focused, determined. One would think, she was about to compete for the thumb war world cup.
The last number called out, I jabbed my thumb forward, usually pretty good at this. That had been the case way back when, but the tides sure had changed when I, overzealous with my strike, gave way for a second of vulnerability. Brielle stamped down her thumb on top of mine so quick my head spun, her smile coy.
“I win,” she said, releasing my hand, and like nothing happened, cuffed her arms. “You can leave now.”
Double ouch, and definitely not the outcome I’d gone for. I’d
wanted her to come down with me, stay with me, but she let me go, and I had nothing to do but take my leave.
“Damn,” I murmured, truly unsettled. I hadn’t expected this defeat. “No chance for a best two out of three?”
Another ghost of a smile on her lips, her head going back. “Are you a sore loser, Ramses?”
No, I just hadn’t wanted to leave. Not yet. It seemed too soon.
But since she accused me of that, I didn’t want to be one.
I got up.
It took me a second to regain equilibrium, but once I had, I pocketed my hands. “Nice meeting you, Brielle.”
It’d been an experience, that was for sure. I started to walk away, but she shifted, staring at me.
Her head angled up, way up since I was standing. Her lashes flashed. “You don’t know any pizza places, do you?”
“Pizza?” My eyes flashed. “You want pizza?”
“Good pizza. Yeah.” And then she was getting up, all the glorious angles and inches of her. She was a sea of taffeta and stark black, the back of her dress longer than the front. If I had to guess she stood just north of five-five, more than a foot of height I had on her. She smoothed the bell of her dress. “I’m not from here, but I heard the Midwest has good pizza. Deep dish.”
I found myself wanting to smile. Though, I fought it. I didn’t want to lose her, whatever this was. I popped a shoulder. “We do all right. This isn’t Chicago, but I do know a place. Twenty-four hours, too.”
If she was game, I’d take her there, and she seemed to be when she nodded. I’d never seen anyone like her, so poised and polished. Like a diamond-encrusted nut in need of a hard crack. We started to go until she angled a look over the edge of the high dive.
“What do you know about fishing out shoes?” she asked, her shrug subtle. “I seem to have dropped mine.”
Chapter Four
Bri
As it turned out, he knew surprisingly a lot about fishing out shoes.
The guy pushed up his shirt sleeves.
He exposed long arms corded in lean muscle, ready, but most importantly, willing to actually satisfy my request.