Duched (Duched #1)

by Xavier Neal

  Brie

  I place the curling iron down on the counter and give my reflection one final look.

  “Pretty good,” my mother's voice says proudly.

  Right? Not the greatest when it comes the whole wavy hair, shape your face look, but I think I nailed it this time.

  “Now, who is the guy worth all this trouble?”

  I drop my focus back to the cell phone screen where we are video chatting.

  “He's not worth any trouble.”

  He's not! This...This whole thing is merely my way of showcasing what he can't have.

  “He has to be. I can't recall the last time you went on a date or even the last time you cared enough to do more with your hair than a simple up-do for one.”

  Blow back of having a hair genie for a mother. Constantly criticized for my love of the basic pony tail and easy bun.

  I quickly devise a way to avoid further interrogation on the subject. Calling out to no one, I question. “What's that?” After a small pause, I look back into the camera with a sympathetic look. “Sorry, mom. Gotta go. Jovi needs help bringing in the groceries.”

  “She does not,” my mother sighs. “You're as bad as your father about faking distractions.” She offers me a sweet smile. “Whoever he is, I hope you enjoy yourself.”

  “Thanks mom.”

  “See you tomorrow for dinner?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. You can tell me about him then.” She winks and ends the call before I can argue.

  No need to inform me I got traits from both of my parents.

  I prepare to drop my cell phone back on my bathroom counter when I notice an unread text.

  Prince One Nightstand: Change of plans. Sending a car to pick you up.

  Me: Attire the same?

  Prince One Nightstand: Clothing is always OPTIONAL.

  I roll my eyes at the text.

  Problem is at times I want it to be optional. How pathetic am I?! Almost everything out of his mouth is coated in arrogance or makes him sound like the pompous asshole we both know he is. For some reason though I can't resist not only the urge to knock him down a few pegs, but getting to know the man he is once he's there. The one I imagine the rest of the world doesn't know exists. The one I doubt would interest them if they did. And before you start down that path, no, I don't have the whole let the bad boy change for me complex most women phase through at some point in their life. I just enjoy us going tit for tat. Most of my conversations with the attractive members of the opposite sex are spent walking on egg shells in an attempt to get asked out at all, or once I've got the date, to prevent them from shutting down completely when they realize I'm not putting out on the first night. Like it's a crime to not want to have some random stranger poking around down there, doing his best to prove he's got talent. Or stamina. Or whatever skill the last girl who dumped him said he didn't have. Ha. Men think women carry baggage? Nothings worse than a guy trying to outperform his past self because someone he slept with faked an orgasm...

  My phone vibrates again with another message.

  Prince One Nightstand: How hard did you roll your pretty brown eyes?

  Compliments shouldn't go hand and hand with his impressive ability to annoy me.

  Me: Hard enough to reconsider this dinner.

  Prince One Nightstand: Liar.

  I begin typing a reply when he beats me to it.

  Prince One Nightstand: At least I'm hoping you are.

  Don't swoon when he says shit like that! This is why I have a problem staying away from him. He's like a mosquito bite that I can't resist itching no matter how hard I try. A bug bite with a sexy as sin accent. Ugh.

  Prince One Nightstand: See you soon.

  I drop the phone back on the counter and retreat for my roommate's room. I stumble out of my bedroom, startled to see her and her boyfriend relaxing on the couch with a show about classic cars.

  Merrick grunts, “That's barely fucking vintage.”

  Jovi turns the page in the book she's reading completely careless of his ramblings.

  I stroll into the room and sigh, “Merrick, you do know the people on the television can't hear you, right? When they talk, they're not talking directly to you.”

  He doesn't bother looking away. “That's a good thing because if they did I'd tell them to take that piece of shit and-”

  Jovi nudges him in the side at the same time she looks at me. “Your hair looks amazing...”

  “Thanks.” I strike a pretend proud pose.

  The two of us giggle. “Going somewhere important?”

  If you must know Dr. Judgey, I was not being a bad friend. Just didn't think Kellan was worth mentioning since this is a one-time thing. No. No. Not a one night stand. Not a one night slumber party. Not even a one night rub under the table. I'm not the type of woman who is okay just being a drive through stop and bone if you get what I'm selling here.

  “I...have a date.”

  Suddenly, Merrick's attention turns to me while Jovi shuts her book. She slowly asks, “A what?”

  “A date.”

  “With another person?” Merrick chimes in.

  I give him a sharp glare.

  “Forgive him,” his girlfriend quietly insists. “He's just in shock. Like me.”

  “Why are you two in shock?”

  “You don't date,” they speak in unison like a well-rehearsed sitcom.

  They do that more often than people in real life should. It's one of their many disgustingly adorable traits.

  Folding my arms across my chest, I argue, “I do too.”

  “In the years we've been friends, I've known you to go on three dates.” Jovi pins me with a stern look then repeats. “Three.”

  Uncomfortable with the acknowledgment to my lack of love life, I snip. “You kept count?”

  “Preschoolers can count that high,” Merrick backs her.

  “Well that explains your ability to follow the conversation.”

  He prepares to snip back when she lifts a hand to stop him. “It's fine that you don't date, Brie. I always assumed between studying, working, and hanging out with us, you just...didn't have the time.”

  The truth in her statement shifts my weight.

  That's a huge part of it. Dating doesn't exactly fit in when you're working two part-time jobs just to make sure you can afford rent, groceries, and tuition. Still. Hearing my lack of social life isn't erasing any of the woes related to my pending graduation. I don't even have anything in that department to look forward to when they finally stop billing me to learn.

  “So who is he?” She gleefully questions.

  “He is a....passing moment,” I declare in an uncertain voice.

  It's not because I'm stupid enough to think he's not. It's because the truth is all men who stroll into my existence in that aspect are. Guess I'm really no better than Kellan in that nature. At least they don't all make it into my bed like I know his do.

  “A passing moment,” she repeats in a skeptical tone.

  “Yes. Do you mind if I borrow one of your dresses? I'm pretty sure I can squeeze into one.”

  She gives me a sarcastic stare. “Squeeze into one? We're practically the same size.”

  Sweet little thing I know. My hips are wider and my boobs are bigger, but occasionally we can successfully share clothes. Particularly if they stretch.

  Instead of starting a new argument, I state, “I'll take that as a yes.”

  Jovi nods and I head for her bedroom at the same Merrick grumps, “Seriously, Brie. Who is this guy?”

  Hearing his big brother tone makes me smile.

  He may be younger than me, but he has no problem letting his inner protective older brother quality shine bright.

  Once I'm in her room, I head for her closest, not answering his question.

  “Does he go to the university?” Merrick's voice gets louder.

  “Is he a professor?” Jovi's follows.

  “Why would she date a professor?” He suspiciou
sly asks. “That's against policy.”

  “This from the ultimate rule bender.”

  “Breaker.”

  “How is that better?”

  It's not. But it's funnier.

  “It means I'm better.”

  There's a small pause before she says, “Cocky.”

  “Confident.”

  I let their flirting fade from my ears as I thumb through her clothes until I spot the dress I've had my eye on since she first bought it.

  I couldn't afford it. Glad at least once of us could bring this baby home.

  With it in my hands, I walk back to her bedroom door, shut it, and begin to change out of my lounge clothes.

  “Are either of us right?” Jovi asks, frustration now in her voice.

  I wiggle into the long sleeve black lace dress. “No.”

  “Ha!” Merrick shouts.

  There's a low murmured comeback too quiet to decipher.

  Probably a sex threat.

  After ditching my bra for not cooperating with the plunging neckline, I crack the door and call to Jovi. “Can you come zip me, please?”

  She gives her boyfriend one final scold and rushes over.

  The moment it's zipped, I give everything an additional adjustment, equally impressive and thankful it fits like a dream.

  Jovi steps back and smiles brightly. “I really like that dress on you. The way the cream color on the body of the dress compliments your skin is insanely gorgeous. You should add a pair of gold earrings.”

  “Good call.” I swoop up my clothes into my arms. “Black shoes though?”

  She nods while moving out of my way.

  Merrick instantly croaks. “That's your dress, baby?”

  “Yeah.”

  His eyes flash an emotion I'm all too familiar with. He gives me a hard look. “Keep it.” Jovi squeaks behind me, but he repeats, “Keep it. No one should ever see my girl in something like that.”

  As the two of us approach his direction, she whispers, “They've seen me in less.”

  “Don't remind me,” he grouses and yanks her into his lap.

  “Jealous.”

  “Protective.”

  “Overly.”

  The sound of their argument stops yet I continue towards my room, desperate to get away from the foreplay in motion.

  When's the last time I had foreplay in my life? Does arguing count as foreplay? Because by that measurement, Kellan and I should be rounding third base. I wonder if Sir Notch in My Bedpost is even remotely as good as he thinks he is....I know I have no right to even ponder over that, but come on. He is extremely attractive, plus he has this wolfish stare when his eyes caress my curves, that has me wishing like hell the reputation I assume he has from the Google search he flashed me yesterday, is over exaggerated. I know it's not. Hell he hasn't even tried to deny it once. Guess that's why wishing is pointless.

  After rummaging around my bathroom drawers for earrings, I give my reflection one last look.

  Not too bad for the art student who's spent the last ten years so focused on trying to graduate so she basically has no life. Well...Here's to hoping dinner does a good job of helping me forget that little fact for a few hours.

  ***

  The ride in an upscale town car to The Frost Luxury Hotel is smooth and soothing. While the drive isn't long, it manages to give me enough time to collect my composure and convince myself to just enjoy the evening. The date. The brief moment of possible romance waiting to be appreciated. Inside the hotel, I'm immediately greeted by a woman who insists I follow her to meet Kellan. The two of us take a private elevator hidden towards the back. On our way up she explains a little history about the hotel, how they frequently cater to those who desire discretion, and how her service is only provided for those staying in the penthouse suite.

  Doubt she's actively trying to make me feel like the hooker reserved for the billionaire, but that's what's happening...

  We arrive outside a set of double doors where Swiss is on duty.

  “Army Man,” I greet warmly.

  “Miss.” He says with a nod before cracking the door open to grant me access.

  I slide past him and step foot into an unexpected surprise. The dimmed room is completely filled with lit candles. Most are along the edges on the floor, but there is a pair on the round table that appears to be set for two. My eyes admire the other little touches of intended romance, like the chilling bottle of what I assume is champagne in the ice bucket. The sprinkled rose petals on the ground. The white curtains pulled back to expose the view of the city at night.

  Now I'm feeling a little too pretty pretty princess for my own good.

  Soft jazz music saunters through my ears only seconds before a sharp, clean, enticing smell floods my system. Kellan whispers over my shoulder, “You like it?”

  I fight the instinct to melt from the sound of his voice.

  Thank God I'm not wearing underwear. They wouldn't stand a chance.

  “Is this why you didn't pick me up?” I ask as he moves into my line of vision. “You were too busy trying to burn down a hotel to impress me?”

  Kellan lightly chuckles, slides a hand in his black suit pants pocket, and says, “Are you impressed?”

  Don't agree for me!

  “Depends,” I start slowly, giving his eyes a minute to finish worshiping me. “How many other women do you go through this much effort for?”

  He doesn't hesitate. “None.”

  “Bullshit.”

  His eyes harshly hold mine. “I don't have to try with others. They simply trip or slip into my sheets and that's that.”

  I sarcastically sneer, “Romantic...”

  “It doesn't have to be,” he declares defensively. “You judge me for merely enjoying the given situations. But it's a two-person process. I make no false claims or promises to those who wander into my bed. No delusions of grandeur. No implications that it is anything more than the moment we're sharing. Expectations conjured up on their own is not my doing. I'm an adult who appreciates sex between consenting adults. There's no harm in that.”

  He has a fair point. It just so happens I am a not that type.

  Rather than admit he's right, I question, “So all this is just a huge effort to get me into the sack?”

  A look of sadness graces his expression. “Is that the only thing you can imagine I'm interested in?”

  “Convince me otherwise,” I state sharply.

  Kellan's eyes dip down the front of my dress before the corners of his lips pull upward. “With pleasure.”

  Not a phrase he should say...Now all I want is to join the very list I shamed him for having.

  He extends his hand for me to take. “Shall we?” The moment my hand is in his he compliments, “You look beautiful, by the way. I would've said something sooner but you were busy scolding me for saving this date.”

  I allow him to lead us to the table. “How was it ruined?”

  “Originally, I made reservation for us at this bistro a few blocks over,” he begins while helping me into my seat. “Somehow, they double booked me and someone else, so the options were to cancel or wait until eleven for dinner.” Kellan sits in the seat across from mine. “Rather than risk the chance of giving you an out, I arranged this with the help of the concierge.”

  “Why not just pick a different restaurant?”

  “I did. The five star one attached to the hotel.”

  Curiosity leans me back in my seat. “Then why aren't we just eating there?”

  “Seemed like a smarter idea to eliminate possible pawns in our on-going game of who can humiliate who.”

  A small snicker proceeds my whispered words, “Well played...”

  Kellan smirks proudly.

  And damn that's a good look.

  As he reaches for the chilling bottle, I ask, “Is there a menu for me to look at or am I just supposed to trust your judgment?”

  He uncorks it. “Would that be so terrible?”

  “Yes. How can I tr
ust a man who can't even eat jalapenos on his nachos?”

  Kellan smirks again. “I can. I don't like to. There's a difference.”