And there she was.
Corinne.
Her big, chocolate-colored eyes were wide when they landed on me. She was wearing a one-piece bathing suit, a towel wrapped around her waist. Her dark hair was slicked back, droplets of water dripping from the ends, curving over the sweet swell of her breasts. She must have just come from the pool.
Damn, she was beautiful. Achingly so.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, every muscle in her body tense as she wrapped her arms around herself.
I chuckled. Tucked my phone into my pocket. “I live here.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” She fidgeted, refusing to give me another dose of those puppy eyes.
The doors began to close, so I reached out, holding them open for her.
“Sorry,” she said again as she moved to the other side of the tiny cubicle. I knew I should get out. Leave. But I couldn’t make my feet move. My entire day… hell… my whole week had been dull. She was bright, bringing color back to the world.
“What floor?” I asked as we sort of just stood there.
“Sorry… umm… eighteen.”
I knew that. I just liked hearing her speak. The curve of her words. The way her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth. How her lips took on different shapes.
“You say sorry a lot,” I observed.
The side of her cheek brightened with pink. With the cold distance between us, no one would guess that I’d gotten her off. That she wanted to do the same for me. It made me smile to myself.
She risked a small glance in my direction. “Sorry.”
I was grinning. “You know… you shouldn’t apologize for being you.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear. Managed somewhat of a smile. “It’s just a nervous habit.”
I couldn’t stop watching her. She was cute in a quirky way. Judging her tiny frame, no one would suspect the fire brewing within her, desperately waiting for someone to breathe life into.
“Are you enjoying the building?” I asked, trying to break the ice.
Her gaze stared straight ahead. “It’s nice.”
“How about the view? The condo has the best view of Central Park.”
“I like it.”
There was a charge building in the air, buzzing between us. I was afraid of what would happen should we touch.
“So you… you like to swim?” I asked, staring at the goose bumps building along her skin. “I do, too. Usually try to do laps on the weekends. It’s refr—”
She spun so fast on me that I tensed up. “I want to repay you. For the other night, I mean. I’m available on Thursday… if you are.”
A smirk broke out on my face, spreading like a vine. She was awkwardly forward. There was something refreshing in it. An inexperienced assertion that was begging for a chance to learn.
“Next time, you should try looking me in the eyes.” I paused as her face reddened, loving every bit of control I had over her. She was like a gazelle, waiting for me to sink my teeth into her. “And… I’m not in the habit of sleeping with my employee’s wives.”
“Oh, I… um… I’m sorry.” She was flustered, turning her body away from me.
I meant what I said, but there was something about Corinne I couldn’t ignore. Something I’d never tasted before.
The doors opened to her floor. She stepped out, not bothering with goodbye.
Just before the doors closed, I said, “How about dinner at my place? Meet me here. Thursday. Eight PM. We can talk.”
She swiveled, slightly shocked, and nodded as the doors closed.
Chapter 6
Corinne
I was beginning to adjust to Manhattan’s vibe.
In the mornings, I’d walk to a nearby bakery to pick up a bagel and a coffee. It was a pink building, no more than three stories tall, nestled in between stacks of larger buildings. I was drawn to how tiny and insignificant it was compared to all the rest that loomed over it. But it defied its deficient height by the bright cheery colors it was painted in. It didn’t matter if it didn’t scale to the skies… it would be seen one way or another.
I could learn something from that building.
Sometimes, I’d stand in the middle of the sidewalk, staring up at the sea of skyscrapers, and I’d feel so incredibly small and lonely, despite being surrounded by thousands of people. It was a loneliness I’d never felt before. A hollow, twisting feeling that scraped at my bones. I wasn’t used to such a fast pace. It was electric. I either moved with it, or I’d get zapped.
After the first week, I enrolled in an interior design course. I couldn’t stand being pent up in the apartment. It was suffocating despite the expansive space. Yesterday, I went to my first class and met a couple of women who seemed nice enough. Time would tell.
I found myself searching for Cole every time I entered the building where we lived. My stomach would go crazy with butterflies at the thought of bumping into him. I’d forgotten what that feeling felt like. Pulse racing. Heart pattering hard against my breastbone. I’d catch myself in the reflection of the elevator, a distant expression and secretive smile startling me.
I asked Jack about him over dinner a few days before.
“So your boss… why do you think he offered this place?”
Jack didn’t take his attention from the box of takeout he was devouring. “The deal I secured will earn millions for the company,” he said in between mouthfuls of noodles. “Cole likes to treat those who work hard for him well. It’s one of the things the Blackwater name is known for, which is always good press.”
Blackwater. Now I knew his last name.
Later that night, while Jack was showering, I opened Facebook and searched for Cole Blackwater. Two pages popped up—a business page for Blackwater Enterprises, and his personal page.
I clicked on his personal page, which was set to public, and scrolled through his posts. It was a lot of shared business articles he was featured in. Forbes. Fortune. All the big names listing him as a hot commodity.
There was a plethora of pictures he was tagged in, each one with a different girl under his arm. He was a playboy. New York’s most desired and eligible bachelor. I clicked on one of the articles. It was by the New York Times. The interviewer asked about his past, and what pushed him to start his billion-dollar business.
Also, why he hadn’t settled down.
Cole spoke of his father instilling a good work ethic in him. He was raised on a farm outside of New York that supplied meat to local restaurants. From an incredibly early age, he’d known he wanted to be one of those men who lived in the tops of the tall buildings, overlooking a city that was always up for grabs.
As far as love… he said there was no time for it in his line of business.
Good… love wouldn’t be on the table when it came time to negotiate our rules, I thought, clicking out of Facebook.
I laid back, staring at the vaulted ceiling, trying to envision him outside the city of suits. He grew up on a farm. I couldn’t picture those dark eyes and his witty smile out there beneath the sun, digging into the soil, creating life with his bare hands.
“What are you thinking about?” Jack asked.
I was jerked out of my daydream. He was standing in the doorway, toweling his hair, his abs glistening. He hasn’t worked out in years, and yet he still looked nearly the same as he did in college. My thighs had rounded out a bit. My stomach a little more fleshy and soft.
“Nothing,” I said, adjusting the blanket.
He smirked. “That face of yours tells me otherwise. I know you, Rinny. You were lost in thought.”
I reached for my book on the nightstand. “That design class… I think it’s going to be good. The teacher was nice. She said I have a unique touch.”
He dropped the towel on the floor, and then crawled into bed. I hated when he did that. I’d asked him thousands of times to put the towel in the hamper that was inches away from where he always dropped it. Just out of common courtesy.
He
never did.
Switching his nightstand light on, he picked up his phone and then settled in under the covers. There was a long moment of silence between us while I read and he scrolled. This was usual for our nights. So close to each other, but our thoughts miles apart.
“So,” he said hesitantly, a little while later. “Tomorrow…”
My stomach tightened.
“You still sure?”
My breathing stilled as images of the Jessica I’d built up in my mind shoved forward. I didn’t want to think about him with another woman. I still wasn’t sure I could go through with meeting Cole. But I felt like I was stuck on a train rolling forward. I couldn’t stop it. I could only hang on for the ride or jump off, and I wasn’t ready to jump off.
Not yet, at least.
“Yes,” I lied. I couldn’t back out now. We’d agreed. I’d rather know he was with someone than wonder if he was lying.
He laid back in the bed, letting out a small breath. “I love you, Corinne.”
I set my book on the nightstand, heat searing behind my eyes. Snuggled under the covers facing away from him. “I love you, too,” I said before shutting my light off.
The next morning was the hardest of my life.
We made idle chatter over coffee, knowing once we crossed the threshold to our home, we’d be venturing into a new part of our lives, unable to know about the other. I felt disconnected from it all. Like I was walking in a fog, being ushered forward by an unseen force.
When it came time to leave, we found ourselves hugging in the doorway, hesitant to let go.
“Midnight, right?” he whispered against my ear. His breath was warm and familiar, and it made the pain in my stomach tighten. “Right?” he insisted again.
I nodded against him, not having the strength for words. Fearing if I spoke, I’d beg him to change his mind.
But what scared me most was this unfamiliar, deep-rooted feeling in my gut that was beginning to unfurl and spread—excitement for what was to come.
“See you soon then.” He kissed me on the cheek, lingering for a second.
And then he was gone.
I filled my day with a stroll through the city, not able to sit still. Not with knowing I’d soon be in another man’s presence. I tried calling Macy, but her phone went to voice mail. When eight o’clock rolled around, I was standing in front of the elevator, staring at a reflection of myself, shoulders loose from the half bottle of Pinot I devoured. My brown curly hair was twisted in an updo, a few strands framing my face. A tight black dress and red heels had been my outfit of choice. I wasn’t sure how long this dress had been in my closet, untouched. We never went anywhere where I felt it was right to wear it.
But tonight…
When the doors slid open, Cole came into view, legs crossed casually at the ankle, his velvet eyes caressing my body.
“Wow,” he said, licking his lips. His shirt was cuffed around his elbows, revealing a thread of dark hair on his forearms. I was hit with an unmistakable whiff of expensive cologne, awareness pinging between us.
The way he was drinking me in, I felt every inch of my skin beneath the dress. My nipples grazing against the satin material. My thighs, warm and soft. My lips burning for someone to make use of them.
I wobbled forward. My legs felt like they’d never stood straight before. God, help me get through tonight, I prayed.
“You’re perfection.”
I glanced down at my form-fitting dress. “Thank you. I haven’t had a reason to wear this until tonight. We don’t go out much… especially not anywhere fancy.” I wanted him to stop staring at me like that. His gaze like two pinpoints burning through my skin, weeding out my desire.
His grin was magic. Dangerous. “Well, I’m pleased to give you a reason to wear it. A dress like that on a body such as yours deserves to be seen.”
I held my wobbly smile in. It had been so long since someone regarded me that way. With desire.
“You don’t look too bad yourself.”
He was amazing. The designer slacks wrapped around his thighs like a second skin. He towered over me, had to be over six feet tall, his dark hair suavely slicked back. There wasn’t a hint of hair along the smooth, chiseled lines of his jaw.
This couldn’t be real. He… he couldn’t be real.
He extended his hand. I took it, allowing him to pull me in. His skin was warm. His calluses were rough. A farmer’s hands, large and thick with muscle. Not the hands of a billion-dollar businessman.
A moment later, his key was twisted in the elevator, and we were riding to the top of the building. To a territory unknown.
“Curls,” he said, touching a strand with tender reverence.
I smoothed one down. “I usually keep my hair straightened. Jack likes it that way.”
His thumb caressed my cheek, and my stomach did a strange flip. “And here I thought I had you all figured out. I wonder what else I’ll uncover.”
He was still smirking, his nearness overpowering my train of thought. His eyes doing their best to trace every inch of my body.
I met his gaze, unwavering, feeling a little bold from the wine. “I guess you’ll find out.” Despite my brave words, my voice was shaky. Paper thin. There was an energy crackling in the air. An energy unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Not even with Jack. It was loud and bright, like hands reaching out, pulling me from the dark hole I’d been living in.
His bottom lip puckered out with a smile.
Dimples. He had dimples.
Humor deepened the blue in his eyes, laced with a tinge of mischief. “I guess I will, Corinne.” He inched closer as the numbers ticked upward. I stayed glued in place. Waiting for his cue. His hand rested against my lower back. Such a small touch, yet I felt it all the way to my center. The scent of his cologne overpowered the tiny space. It was rich and leathery.
New.
I blinked, realizing that moments before, standing outside the elevator, I’d felt confused, unsure, and just overall sad. But now… my stomach was going haywire. The good kind, when possibilities were endless. The way he said my name was a treat—the sort of drawl on the last syllable felt velvet and rich.
And I liked how unbalanced I felt around him… shaken up from the mundane of everyday life.
When the doors slid open, I drew in a breath. Through the marbled entryway was the living room. Two stories of windows wrapped around the space, allowing the city lights to twinkle and shine like hundreds of strands of Christmas lights.
“I was thinking we could have dinner on the terrace. The weather is perfect this time of year,” he said, guiding me toward the kitchen. His home was not what I expected. Though, had I even known what I expected? He was a minimalist. Clean lines of solid wood contrasted against small pops of grays and whites. The few art pieces were of fields of hay and river-blue skies.
When he caught me staring, he grinned. “Not what you expected for a penthouse on the Upper Eastside?”
I shook my head. “It’s gorgeous. Calm and quiet.”
He plunged a hand into his pocket, an openness settling onto his shoulders. It was as if he’d left the businessman on the other side of the door, stepping back into that boy on the farm. “I grew up with little. I guess I’ve sort of carried that sparseness into adulthood.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You mean, you don’t have a golden toilet?”
His easy smile rounded his chuckle. “I prefer porcelain.”
There were two people, a man and a woman, dressed in white jackets, working side by side on a commercial-sized range. “You have your own chefs?” I asked, watching as one of them tossed veggies around in a silver pan that hissed and steamed.
A crooked grin curved his lips as we passed through the streamlined kitchen with rich wood cabinets, and then stepped out onto the terrace. “I borrowed them and the waitstaff from my restaurant downstairs.”
My eyes sort of bulged at the thought, and at the sight of where he took me next. The view was breathtaking.
We were hundreds of feet in the air, twinkling lights strung through the pergola above us. A sparkling pool was lit with changing colors. It was magical, soft music trilling through the charged night air.
The distant sounds of the city echoed around us, a small breeze careening through the open space. He pulled out a chair to a small table set for us, and then sat across from me. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, placing his napkin into his lap.
“I didn’t either,” I admitted, reaching for the glass of water. My hands were shaking, skin hot. I tried not to think of what he could read on my face.
But when I dared to peek, his smile told me he read it all. “You’re nervous,” he stated, never breaking that charming smile.
“No,” I lied.
His smile lit like fire. He was calling my bullshit, and there was nothing I could do but lie.
“Don’t be. We’re just friends… talking over a nice meal.”
“Friends,” I said, testing out the word. The truth was I didn’t think I wanted just friendship with this man, and realizing that confused me even further. Jack had always been plenty… until he started pulling away. Keeping his touches and kisses to himself.
Giving them to someone else.
“So, friend,” he drawled teasingly, sitting back in his chair. “You worked in an office. You have curly hair. You’re in an open situation you don’t want to be in. And you’re now living in my building. Tell me something I don’t know.”
I wasn’t sure where to focus, not wanting to get caught in his velvet gaze. I pulled on my wit to try to dig me out. “Which part do you want to hear about? The part where I was a drug lord? Or the part where I use my marriage as a cover?”
He chuckled. “A beautiful drug lord. That’s a first,” he said, not thwarted by my lie.
An easy smile pulled at the corners of my lips. “Don’t let me get started on the brothel I opened.”
His eyebrow raised, intrigue dancing in the air. “A brothel?”
“Mmhm,” I said, nodding, trying to bite my smile back. “If you’re nice, maybe I’ll set you up with one of the girls.”
Ten Reasons to Stay ((The Risky Hearts Duet) Book 1) Page 5