“That depends on my schedule, but typically three to four. I do whatever needs to be done, a lot of cases of appendicitis, hernias, gallbladders, that sort of thing.”
“If I had a heart attack right now, could you cut me open?” Grace just had to ask. “Because this wine isn’t doing its trick with my stress levels.”
“I could cut you open.” Oliver smiled. “But I doubt you’d want me operating on you since cardiothoracic surgery isn’t my specialty.”
“Hmm.” She eyed his hands. “Do you cook? An ex-wife? Divorces? How are you with lawn care?”
“I think we should start!” Brittany said a little too loudly, pointing Grace toward Roger so they could gossip together. Then Brittany and Oliver could continue with their date. “She’s harmless.”
“I know.” Oliver picked up the first recipe sheet. “All right, you know your way around a knife?”
“Knife…” Brittany made a face and stared down at the three knives in front of them. She reached for the serrated one, saw Oliver make a face, tried again. He shook his head. Finally, she picked up the right one. “Easy, right?”
“Mmm, you’re a natural,” he teased and then moved behind her. “Now, watch and learn while you show this piece of garlic who’s boss.”
His warm breath tickled her neck. Strong arms guided her as she started to cut. Typically, she would have pulled away. It would be too much, too soon. Was she that skittish? But in his arms, she felt… safe, like it was okay to stretch her wings and soar.
There was no reason she should trust someone so early on.
But Oliver made it easy to do.
So, she let herself think about more than just herself. She started thinking about what an us would feel like.
An us with him.
A relationship.
Something more than just laughter and dates, something passionate and loving. Goosebumps rose up on her arms at the thought.
It wasn’t just his sense of humor and strength.
There was something so solid about him.
With a grin, she looked down at his left hand and nearly dropped the knife. On the middle of his thumb was a small tattoo of a cross.
“What’s that represent?” she asked, her mouth dry.
“It’s the last thing I see before I prepare to cut someone open. I see it when I scrub in, and in the OR, I look down, right hand holding a scalpel, left hand empty. And even covered with a glove, I know it’s there, that tattoo of a cross, is my reminder that all the schooling in the world doesn’t save lives. He does. I may not have control, but that doesn’t mean I’m lost. It’s just a startling realization that the universe still turns, lives are still lived, and it makes me realize that I can only give one hundred percent of me, and the rest—the rest, it just is.”
“Yeah.” She rubbed her fingertips over the tattoo. “Sometimes, it just is.”
He nuzzled her neck a bit and then pressed a kiss behind her ear before guiding the knife back.
And she realized that she could stay like this forever.
In his arms.
Near garlic.
Feeling the tempo of the way he showed her how to slice.
Forever.
So simple, so easy.
No banquet, no cameras, just them, cutting up food and talking about life.
Something she didn’t even realize she’d been craving until he gave it to her as if he knew what she had been searching for all along.
A friend.
Oliver walked Brittany to her door. She wasn’t sure if he was walking slowly or if it was her. Either way, she didn’t want the night to end, but she knew it had to. The box had been somewhat forgotten. And now? It was burning a hole in her brain.
She had to look.
Alone.
“Thank you.” Oliver bent down and kissed her cheek. “I think today was one of my favorite dates I’ve ever been on.”
“Because Grace and Roger got in a fight, and he accidentally threw flour in her face?”
He burst out laughing. “Yeah, let’s just say that moment is tied with everything else.”
“What else?”
“Literally every other moment when you smiled at me.” He shrugged. “I’m going to kiss you. I was going to ask permission, but then I decided it would give you time to overthink things. I’m not coming inside. I’m just kissing you, and then I’m walking away, hopefully in a straight line, back to my car.”
“As opposed to diagonal?”
“Kisses are powerful. What can I say?”
“I think you’ve built up too much, this kiss.”
“Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t.” He leaned down, his smile so sexy that her knees went weak, and then his mouth was stirring against hers. She wanted more but held still while he gently coaxed her lips apart, massaging her tongue like he was asking for permission to taste more, to own more of her.
Her mouth opened as she arched against him. His hands braced her arms and slid down to her hips as he deepened the kiss, then pulled back and whispered, “Definitely not a straight line.” He brushed the hair from her face and tilted her chin toward him. He nipped her lips again. “I’ll call you. Soon.”
“Okay,” she said in a breathy voice as wonder pulsed through her body. She wanted to grab him, ask him for more, but at the same time, it seemed like her past was jerking her back into the apartment. The box was pulling her. It was her past. Did that mean Oliver was her future?
He seemed hesitant; then his eyes flicked to her mouth. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe that he was walking away, and then he got into the elevator.
She leaned against her door as he disappeared, and almost sank to the floor from the kiss.
It wasn’t just passionate.
Or sexy.
Or possessive.
It wasn’t rushed.
She was used to hurried.
Used to having to hide.
But with Oliver, she didn’t have to.
No politician mother was breathing down their necks, no cameras waiting to catch them doing something inappropriate. It was just… them.
Brittany touched her lips with her fingertips and smiled as she opened the door to her apartment. Her smile fell when she saw the box. It might as well be a bomb ready to go off.
With shaky movements, she made her way over to it and without giving herself time to think, pulled off the lid, throwing it to the floor.
Inside were hundreds of pictures, folders. All labeled with the year taken as well as the place.
And, finally, one that said, Recent.
She picked up the manila envelope and pulled out the first picture.
It wasn’t just a snapshot.
It was a headshot.
Of Chrissy Mendoza.
Seven days.
Zoe had seven days to make it work.
To take all the moving pieces and make sure they worked together to launch her line. Every penny had been invested in it being a success. Zoe had even convinced Grace to sit in the front row, though it was more begging and less convincing.
With shaking hands, Zoe sat down behind her desk and inhaled the scent of hours-old coffee and fabric. She could do this. This was what she had been born for.
Her brown skin shimmered with the lotion she’d tested on herself to see how it would look under the catwalk lights.
She wanted the line to look otherworldly, with bright colors and patterns that didn’t seem to make sense, but when worn together, looked like a chaotic masterpiece. It was one hundred percent bohemian meets futuristic, and it was a risk. A huge one.
One that Dane had invested in.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Dane. Dane had been everywhere since his ultimatum, but he hadn’t asked or threatened again, which almost made her more nervous. How could she make him understand? It wasn’t about just him or her; it was them together. Like a bomb waiting to go off. She wanted to make it on her own, away from his influence, from the industry. She owed it to herself, didn�
�t she?
And she was terrified that she couldn’t trust him.
Because at the end of the day, it came down to the fact that he ran an empire through the city’s underground, and if he had to, he would choose that over her, just like he’d chosen to kill Aaron’s brother and force her to watch.
It was all about control.
And after twenty years in the industry, Zoe was done with being controlled. Done.
She wanted to pull the strings.
Just for once in her life.
“You look like you’re concentrating really hard,” came a dark voice from near the door. Her heart leapt into her throat as blood started to pound in her ears. It was almost impossible to catch her breath as she looked up into the shadowy eyes of Aaron, the guy she’d helped to put in prison. The guy whose only crime was to film underage girls and sell the videos on the dark web, and then, if it made sense, slip them to the media. He did it for a price. Both of them had worked for Marnie.
It was the final straw.
Thank God for Roger.
“Aaron,” she said his name out loud. “I heard you found religion, good for you.”
He snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m the perfect inmate. Who knew I had such a bright future?” His dark hair and olive eyes used to fascinate her when paired with his copper-toned skin. He was half Native American, half German. She remembered thinking that he had the most intriguing eyes she’d ever seen, and then that was it.
Seconds later, she was being asked to pose. And when she got uncomfortable, she was given a shot of whiskey to relax.
Whiskey laced with drugs.
“Did you need something?” she found herself asking in a confident voice, even though she was perspiring in her heels and Nicole Miller dress.
Where was Dane when she actually needed him?
Her phone buzzed on the table again, and Dane’s picture popped up.
“Don’t answer that. It’s rude.” Aaron grinned. “I just want to have a conversation, that’s all…”
“All right.” Zoe’s body shook as she sat back in her chair and waited. Aaron pulled out a gun and stretched his arms overhead. Dane! Where are you?
“It’s her fault, you know… the woman behind all the crazy, the one behind the scenes playing everyone for a fool. She’s in her high tower, sipping wine while the rest of us go to prison for what she did.” His eyes were wild as he faced Zoe, what was he talking about? Who? “Do you want to know what I did?”
“No.” Acid burned the back of Zoe’s throat. “I think that’s between you and God.”
“God.” He choked out a laugh. “He has forsaken me.” He held his arms out wide. “I’m going to Hell for what I did! HELL!” Spit dangled from his lip. He wiped his mouth and paced in front of her. “I would rather die than go back to prison. And I think I want to take someone with me. Think of it as the ultimate sacrifice, maybe one bad soul and one good one will equal my entrance into Heaven, huh? Worth a shot! After all, you’re the one who ruined my life. You just couldn’t leave it alone, you had to go to the police!”
“You taped your brother having sex with me while I was high on who knows what, and I’m the one who deserves death?”
“It was a job! You were a job!” Aaron screamed. “She paid us too well! And it’s not like you care! You take your clothes off for a living, so we filmed it. Same thing, different audience.” He cursed and spat on the floor. “You know, for old time’s sake…” He lowered the gun with one hand and started unbuttoning his jeans with the other.
This wasn’t happening.
Not happening.
She had no weapons.
Her cell went off again as Aaron finally got his buckle loosened, and with clumsy fingers, jerked his jeans to his thighs. “Yeah, I think I’ll enjoy hearing you scream.”
One minute, he was glaring at her; the next, he was on the ground with Dane standing behind him, a gun pointed at his head.
“Dane!” Zoe burst into tears. “You’re here!”
“I had a bad feeling.” He didn’t look up at her, just kicked Aaron in the ribs multiple times before flipping him onto his back and pointing the gun right at the center of his forehead.
“Don’t,” Zoe found herself saying. “Not again. You shoot him, I don’t know if we… I don’t know about us, Dane, but I do know that I can’t let you kill him. Please don’t kill him.” Aaron’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. Maybe he’d passed out from the pain. Perhaps he was faking it. Whatever it was, Zoe couldn’t let history repeat itself. She couldn’t bear to watch a person suffer, no matter how horrible the human was.
Dane bit out a series of curses and stood to his full height, tucking the gun inside his jacket and very calmly grabbing his cell.
“Yeah, I have a situation. I’ll need a detective unit down here.” He rambled off the address. “I think we have someone finally willing to talk.”
He hung up and turned to Zoe. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” She rubbed her arms as tears trickled down her face. “I’m fine. I think.”
Dane pulled her into his arms, holding her tight and close. “Then I need you to listen to me very carefully.”
She nodded against his chest, breathed in the scent of whiskey and cigars, and exhaled like it was her drug, her safety, her home.
“I need you to start at the beginning and tell me everything, leave no detail out. This is extremely important. Can you do that for me?”
Zoe frowned up at him. “Why is it so important?”
“He’s in the pictures.”
“Pictures?”
“With Jauq, Danica, Frederick, even Marnie. Aaron’s in the pictures on Frederick’s computer. All of them are linked.”
“Danica would never—”
“I know, I know.” Dane narrowed his eyes. “But I guess we never know what people are capable of until it’s too late. Human nature is unpredictable, and we’re only human, Zoe.”
She clung to him and explained what Aaron had said about a woman being in charge. Dane seemed to flinch at that. She looked up into his blue eyes, searching. “Dane, what aren’t you telling me?”
Their gazes locked, and his expression went from hard to soft in seconds.
A few policemen made their way into her office loft. “Dane? The chief says you may have more info on the—”
“Be right there.” Dane kissed the top of Zoe’s forehead. “I’ll be just a minute, then we’re going home, all right?”
She nodded and waited for him.
Just like he’d promised, after she’d given her statement, after they’d arrested a now-alert and irate Aaron, Dane helped her into the car.
She was still shaking when Dane reached into the center console and handed her a small flask. “Whiskey. I know you hate it. Take two small gulps and see if it helps.”
She grabbed the flask, did what he instructed, and then laid her head on his shoulder, her arm resting across his hard stomach.
The ride to the apartment was quick. They walked quietly to the elevators.
In silence to the kitchen.
The buzz of the hush was going to kill her.
“Dane?”
“Yeah?” He shrugged out of his jacket and crossed his arms, concern lacing his features.
She took a step toward him. “Why didn’t you kill him?”
He paused and then uncrossed his arms, pacing a small circle in front of her before facing her again. “Maybe because the last time I killed someone in front of you, it was like I killed you, too. And I couldn’t bear the thought of letting someone as evil as Aaron ruin what we have, what we could have if you’d just let us.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “You listened because of me?”
“Do you really think I like the idea of that guy being in prison? He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone suck dry tax dollars just because he doesn’t have a conscience.”
Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she reached out to him, pulled
his massive body close, and then rose up on her tiptoes. “I need you to kiss me now.”
He hesitated. Dane never hesitated, so she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him forward. Her tongue slid past his lower lip in a frenzy to taste him. He lifted her into his arms, deepening the kiss as they clung to one another, her suspended against him, and him rock-solid.
Like he always was to her.
Rock. Solid.
She pulled back, her eyes searching, her breaths coming out in short, small pants. “I lied.”
“About what?” he asked softly.
“I need you. I miss her. And I need you. And I don’t know what’s worse. Knowing she’s gone because she couldn’t handle the pain, or that I pulled away because I was terrified of what she warned me about.”
He tilted his head. “Danica warned you about me?”
“Not in the way you think.” Slowly, she slid down his body. “I betrayed her. I betrayed you. She told me that you would scare me, told me not to run. And I did. Because I was so afraid everything else was more important than my sanity, than my peace, than me.”
“Zoe.” Dane growled out her name. “I made a judgment call, a bad one, but one that put a bad man in prison and the other in the ground. I can’t apologize for that. I won’t. But I will apologize for forcing you to witness something someone as beautiful as you should never have to see. Something so ugly that I can’t bear the thought of you closing your eyes and seeing nothing but blood. That’s my burden to bear, not yours. Never yours.”
“You have got to stop talking to me like that!” She stomped her heel. “It just makes me want to—”
“Fight? Kiss? Make love?” he offered with a wicked grin.
“I thought the Great Dane Saldino didn’t make love… I believe, on several occasions, you said that men like you—”
“I was an arrogant idiot, and I was afraid to show my cards too soon. A man doesn’t just cut open his heart on the first date and bleed all over the table.”
Fashion Jungle Page 23