by Kent, Julia
One thing every guy knows—or should know—is not to tell a crying chick she’s paranoid, so I just rub her back, trying to comfort her. But honestly? I wonder if she’s so afraid of him that she’s magnified what she thinks he can do past the point of rational. I just can’t fathom that Nick could have that much sway. He sounds like a peon, not a powerhouse. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this.”
“I think I convinced her to go visit my aunt. I just want her to get out of town, you know?”
“Yeah,” I say, even though I don’t.
“Where’s Chelsea?” Angel turns big eyes up to me, and all I want to do is let myself get lost in them.
“Vince was sleeping, and Dougie wanted us to come with him to grab some lunch. She’s riding with him.” And maybe riding on him. I mentally shudder.
“She’s nicer than I thought she’d be.” Angel almost sounds sad about it.
A few minutes later, we’re on our way. Angel’s tiny hand is tucked in mine, resting on the center console, and she’s staring out the window. The corners of her eyes are pinched together, and I wish I could make everything better for her. It’s going to drive me nuts having to leave her alone in the apartment tonight while I work downstairs.
This is one of the few times I wish I could be my dad. He works hard, but he plays hard, too. He has enough people under him—like me—that can handle the running of our day-to-day business that he can just take off for a month-long cruise whenever he wants. Right now, I’d love to just whisk Angel away for a month at sea, away from everything. Maybe then she’d relax and actually feel safe.
And maybe I’d be able to stop worrying that I’m going to turn around and find her gone.
Twenty Three
Angel
Thoughts of my mom follow me the rest of Tuesday, past Wednesday, and into Thursday, hanging around me like a persistent shadow. I want desperately to know she’s safe, but a frantic call from me is sure to raise her suspicions.
Arion reaches across the breakfast bar and lightly touches the back of my hand. “Why don’t you go ahead and call her. It will make you feel better.” The tired lines around his eyes say it will make him feel better as well. Last night, I dreamed Nick killed my mom. I found her lying on the cold tile floor of her kitchen, the words ‘come back’ painted into the pool of her blood beside her. When Arion woke me up, his frantic hands shaking my shoulders, I barely made it to his bathroom before I vomited.
Neither one of us has gotten much sleep, and although I can think of several ways I’d like to lose sleep with Arion, nightmares aren’t one of them. Silver light spills in the window over the sink from the cloudy afternoon, illuminating soft copper highlights in Arion’s hair as he waits patiently for me to respond.
If I call Mom, it’s one more chance for Nick to track me. Surely it’s better to worry myself to death instead. “I shouldn’t.”
“You need to. Don’t you owe it to her? If she didn’t listen and isn’t in Florida, you need to know so you can try again to convince her. And if she is in Florida, then there’s less chance of Nick knowing you called. Right?”
When he puts it that way, it seems simple enough. I nod softly as a lump forms in my throat. Arion disappears into his bedroom, returning a moment later with my phone.
Mom answers on the second ring. “Tess?”
“Yeah, Mom, it’s me.”
I can vaguely hear my aunt in the background, muttering something about them being late. Knowing she’s away from Nick gives my chest the lightness of an air balloon preparing for liftoff.
Mom says something muffled, like she has her hand over the phone. “One minute, Edith. I swear you’ve the patience of a two-year-old.” I’m trying not to laugh when she asks, “Are you heading down here to see us? Your Aunt Edith and I are just about to go to the pool. Did you know her neighborhood has a pool?”
“I didn’t, but that sounds nice.” Nice, and suburban and safe.
“Well you can see it when you get here.”
“About that… The other girls don’t really want to work back East toward Florida since we’d already started heading back toward the West coast. I don’t think I’ll be able to meet up with you there. But you stay, have a great time. Please.” My eyes are on Arion’s as I lie, and although his expression is unreadable, a chill shivers its way through me. Something about the way he’s looking at me is off.
Mom and I say goodbye, and when I hang up, Arion isn’t looking at me. Instead, he’s turned around, staring out the window. Cautiously, I creep off my barstool and go stand behind him. My arms slide around his waist, and for a moment, he doesn’t move. Then he lets out a long shudder, as he turns toward me, still inside my embrace. The tension of whatever is bothering him seeps from him to me, and I start to step away.
Arion pulls me back but cups one finger under my chin, tilting my face toward his. “You shouldn’t tell someone you’ll be somewhere and then not show up, Angel.”
His words are true in a world of black and white, but I’m drowning in gray. “I said whatever it took to get her to go, and I need to keep her confused about where I am. When the truth comes out, I hope she’ll forgive me.”
Cold absolution dominates his tone. “Don’t ever lie to me. No matter what. I need to know that you’ll always trust me with the truth.”
The intensity of his gaze is blinding, and I know without a doubt he’s more serious about this than I’ve ever heard him be about anything. “Okay,” I say, even as I know it’s a promise I may have to break.
Despite their questionable sincerity, my words seem to soothe him, and our bodies meld together, creating an entirely different type of tension. My breath hitches as I fight the urge to rock my hips toward him.
Whatever had him so irritated only moments ago has vanished, erased by the growing heat between us. I like this Arion much better.
“Do you want to take a nap before tonight?” Arion purrs against my ear, letting his breath warm my skin.
Tonight? What’s tonight? My brain’s taken a detour into sex-town, and I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Is that your way of saying you want to take me to bed?”
I’m not sure whether to call the sound he makes a groan or a hiss, but I know it’s driven by need. “While I would love nothing more than to take you—in bed or right here—no. I was referring to the fact that you slept like shit last night, and we’ll be up late tonight at the gala. I thought you might want to nap first.”
Oh, right. I look up at him from beneath thick lashes, curling the side of my mouth into a half smile. “Bed sounds good.”
Judging by the way he draws tiny erotic circles with his thumb just beneath my jaw, he knows exactly what I mean. His fingers delve into my hair, capturing my focus.
And then I yawn.
Shit.
I guess bed is definitely on the agenda.
Arion leads me to the bedroom by the hand, and within minutes we’re spooned in bed together as I listen to his breath grow heavy with sleep. But despite how tired I am, for me slumber is an absent mistress, and my thoughts hover. The fear meticulously cultivated by Nick’s actions is never far away, but Arion’s tender, patient attention is slowly reawakening the bond he and I had.
I want to trust him. But can I?
Hell, I want to fuck him.
The problem is, wanting to and being able to are different things entirely. I fear his touch even as I crave it, and I know if he and I have sex, I’ll ruin it. If only he wasn’t so damn intoxicating.
My eyelids flutter open to someone standing over me.
“Chelsea! What the fuck?” I screech, nearly falling off the bed as I clamor to sit up.
She smiles sweetly. “You two look so cute. Now get moving, we have work to do.” She grabs my hand, tugging me away from Arion.
Arion groans and rolls onto his back, then squints at his step-sister. “What time is it?”
“It’s six. Time for us girls to get gorgeous for the gala.”
&
nbsp; Arion holds my other hand, trying to keep me in bed. “She’s already gorgeous. Go away.”
Chelsea rolls her eyes and fixes me with a get-moving-like-yesterday-glare that could motivate stone. Arion is smart enough to know when he’s been beaten, and he releases me with only a small pout that makes him look almost innocent. Almost.
I hear him mutter something about taking away her key as she pulls me toward the bathroom where an avalanche of cosmetics has landed on the counter while we slept. “Jesus, Chelsea. I didn’t realize you intended to give me plastic surgery.” Yesterday, when she asked if I wanted to get ready together, it sounded like a good idea. Normal, even. It’s been so long since I’ve had a girlfriend. But now I’m thinking I might have been duped. Her and her brother are apparently both very good at making something outrageous sound innocent to get me to agree.
Or maybe I’ve forgotten how to say no.
Chelsea pats the counter in front of her. “Up.”
Like a well-trained dog, I hop up and sit on the counter, but I resist the urge to wag my ass for a treat. Barely.
“You and Axel looked cozy,” Chelsea says, flashing a knowing smile. Of course what she thinks she knows is wrong.
“It’s not what you think.” I bite my lip, trying to ward away my frown.
Chelsea dabs something from a white bottle onto a circular pad and begins assaulting my face with it. I’m not sure what it is, but my skin tingles. It’s not exactly unpleasant, just different.
“You aren’t screwing?” Her voice is laced tightly with skepticism.
“We’ve been taking it slow.” Like a pair of tortoises. We both want it and keep working toward it, but at this pace it seems like we aren’t making it anywhere.
Chelsea giggles, a pleasant, girlish sound that is at complete odds with her polished, elegant facade. “Will wonders never cease. I wouldn’t have thought he had it in him.”
“Had what in him?” I speak through narrowed lips, willing myself not to move as Chelsea does something to my eyelashes with a silver contraption that looks like it was contrived in the Middle Ages.
“Don’t blink. And I didn’t think he was capable of something real. He’s finally moved past the trail of abandoned one-night stands.”
“Was he really that bad before?” Guilt curdles in the pit of my stomach.
“Girl, you don’t even want to know. Where’s your dress?”
“In the bedroom closet.”
Chelsea’s eyebrows raise. “Wow. Sharing his bed, his closet. At the rate he’s going, you’ll be sharing bank accounts and last names next week.”
Her words twist my guilt to nausea. Are we really moving that fast?
It’s so hard to look at my relationship with Arion objectively, considering how long we’ve know each other. Technically, we just met—in person—a few days ago. But he’s been a part of my life for over two years, and I’ve told him things I’ve never told anyone else. The day my cat died, I called him. When I got accepted into college, I called him.
And when I ran for my life, I ran to him.
He’s my rock. My safety net. And hopefully, soon he will be my lover. But we can’t be more than that, not yet. Until I can trust in my own judgment, I can’t truly give my heart to him.
Chelsea returns and hangs my dress on the back of the door beside hers while she finishes my makeup. The mirror is behind me, so I can’t see what she’s doing, and the more she flits around me with different powders and brushes, the more I worry. I’ve never been one to wear a ton of makeup, and while I’m sure she knows what she’s doing, I don’t think I’m going to look like myself.
Every time I try to steal a peek in the mirror, she holds my chin to stop me. “Be patient,” she scolds.
Done with my face—I hope—she starts on my hair.
“Is Dougie going to the gala as your date?” I ask, wondering if he’ll be able to, or if he’ll need to stay close to Vince.
Something darkens briefly across her expression, but is quickly replaced by a tight smile. “He’s coming.”
“Reluctant date?” I wince as she tugs a wide lock of my hair, then twists it around a roller.
“No, he’s more than happy to go. It’s just… How much as Axel told you about what to expect tonight?”
“Absolutely nothing.” It only now occurs to me I should have asked what sort of event this is.
Chelsea snorts. “Typical. Well, this gala is an awards presentation, combined with a silent auction to benefit charity.”
“That sounds like a good thing, right?” I haven’t ever been to a gala, but I’ve been to awards stuff for the school with my mom. It’s always cute, with lots of goodwill and fun. How different could this be?
“It is. But it also means that they’ve invited the snootiest, richest old biddies they can find. My mother does not approve of my dating Dougie, and because of that, she’s sullied his reputation to many of her and Tucker’s friends.”
Clarity is harsh and blinding. This isn’t an event held at a small public high school. This is a chance for the elite to show off their diamonds and trophy wives, while playing matchmaker with the next generation, under the guise of a good cause. “Will Axel’s dad disapprove of me, too?”
“No, Tucker will adore you, I’m sure. He’s different than my mom. She’s determined that I have to catch a rich man, like she did. To make it worse, half the men there our age will be the assholes she’s tried to set me up with.”
“If you dread it, why are you going?”
Done setting the last of my hair in rollers, Chelsea steps back, scrutinizing me. “Go ahead and get into your dress while I touch up my own makeup.”
Her makeup is already the epitome of perfection. Soft peach cheeks, shimmery intense eyeshadow and endless lashes curve above softly glossed lips. What she thinks she needs to touch up, I have no clue, but I keep my doubts to myself as she works her hair out of its loose ponytail.
Slipping into the silky folds of the black dress instantly brings the memory of Arion’s hands to the forefront of my mind, warming my cheeks. His experienced, intoxicating hands. Maybe tonight we’ll have an encore. I shake my head, shoving the horny teenager inside me into the passenger seat so the logical, rational Tess can take the wheel.
Fuck. I want him. Complications and commitments be damned.
Chelsea sweeps her hair into a stylish golden twist, securing it with a few bobby pins she holds between her lips until she needs them. Once she’s shimmied into the skin-tight, strapless sheath that she calls a dress, she helps me with my zipper. Her dress is nothing I’d ever wear, but she rocks it. The sapphire blue perfectly coordinates with her eyes, and she’s replaced her lipgloss with whore-red lipstick, and if I swung that way, even I’d be fawning all over her.
Arion knocks on the door. “You two ready yet?”
“Yeah, we were ready an hour ago. We’ve just been in here screwing since.” Chelsea looks at me and rolls her eyes. The doorknob starts to turn, and she shrieks. “Out!”
“I don’t share,” he warns through the cracked door.
Be still my heart. I know his words should scare me, because there is no doubt that he means every possessive syllable of them. Yet for some reason, they don’t. Much.
Chelsea starts plucking rollers out of my hair, and I turn to the mirror to watch, catching my first sight of my makeup. My cheeks have a natural glow, my lips are an almost-nude pink. Other than my eyes, you’d never know I wore makeup at all. And… Oh! Wow, my eyes are just wow. She’s made them seem like big, innocent anime eyes hidden beneath smoldering shadow and thick lashes.
Pride gleams in her eyes as she arranges my hair in soft waves around my shoulders.
I look…like a grownup. But more importantly, I look whole. Somehow, tonight, I’ve found another part of myself.
I turn toward her, overcome with gratitude. “Thank you.” My words are breathy, full of emotion.
“Whatever. Yadda, yadda. Rusty spoon. You know the drill. Just make
him happy.” Her smile holds all the softness her words don’t as she gives me a gentle nudge toward the door. “All right, Heartbreaker. You’re on.”
Twenty Four
Arion
When Angel steps out of the bathroom, my heart stops. Like literally fucking stops. She’s brain-blowingly beautiful, and she’s staring at me with fuck-me eyes. Lord have mercy, how in the hell am I going to make it through tonight? It’s been agony trying not to push her too far, too fast. The stench of knowing what Nick did to her rots in my brain, a constant reminder that I need to treat her with care. I know she wants me, but I’ve got to be sure that when we move forward, she truly wants to, not that she’s just playing a part or doing what she thinks she should.
And I’ve got to know that she’s capable of telling me to stop—that she can say no.
At last my heart figures out how to function again, though it’s still spasming in my chest. “Wow.” Getting out that one word took a feat of Herculean strength; her beauty is that stunning. But it’s not from the dress—though the dress looks fantastic. I have incredible taste, after all. And it’s not from the way her hair tumbles around her, begging me to run my fingers through it. It isn’t even from the flirty, strappy heels that make me imagine those legs of hers wrapped around me.
It’s from her. Tonight, without a doubt, the Angel I know is shining through.
“You like?” she asks.
The dress flares around her thighs, fluttering enticingly as she prowls toward me, begging me to unwrap her. It’s like fucking wrapping paper.
No.
Shit. No unwrapping.
Presents.
I’m so fucked. My brain has detoured into happy land, and I can’t manage a coherent thought. “I’ve got a present for me. I mean for you.” Fuck.
Angel rests her hand lightly on my chest, her fingers wandering beneath the edges of my tux jacket. Her eyes drop to my waist, where I’m sure the bulge is visible. “For me?”
I groan. “Only for you baby.” My rapidly tightening pants don’t make it easy to pull the long, thin box out of my pocket, but I manage. Angel’s eyes follow my hands as I slowly open the lid.