Wicked Fascination

by J. M. Brister

  No, she wasn't going to let him have that control. Not anymore. She was going to go over to the main house. She was going to eat some food. She was going to socialize with Brian.

  Freya sighed and looked down. She cringed when she saw how frumpy she looked. A hoodie and yoga pants were not exactly how she wanted to present herself. It had been her usual clothing as of late, but she needed a change. She went to one of her bags that was sitting on the living room sofa, still packed (she hadn't bothered with unpacking). Digging around in it, she found a pair of jeans and a dark green long-sleeved sweater. She took each garment and hurried into the bathroom.

  When she stripped out of her current clothes, she winced when she saw what her body had become. She had lost so much weight that she had lost most of her womanly curves. The scars on her wrists added to the pathetic look. She didn't dare look at the scars on her back; it would only make her upset. Instead, she worked on putting the new clothes on and checking herself in the mirror when she was done.

  Her hair hung limp and fell over her shoulders. Her skin was pale, and dark circles ran under her eyes. She almost laughed at her pathetic appearance. No, this was definitely not a romantic invitation.

  She looked awful.

  For a moment, she debated on using a little bit of makeup. Perhaps it would make her a little more presentable. Then, she wondered if she even had any makeup anymore. Digging through one of her bags, she found some powder that hadn't been touched since she had been attacked.

  She sighed, wondering if she wanted to make the effort at all.

  He is handsome, she reminded herself.

  She eyed the powder, then looked back up at the mirror. She grimaced at the sigh. Sighing, she picked up the brush to the powder and began to apply it over her face. By the time she was done, she might not have looked great, but she did feel marginally better. When she stepped out into the living room, an ache formed in the pit of her stomach. But despite her nervousness, she left out the door and walked up to the main house.

  6:31 PM

  Brian eyed the digital clock on the stove. She could be here at any time, and he was nervous. Why he was nervous, he did not know. This wasn't his first time around the block. Not even by a long shot. He had certainly had his fair share of dates, girlfriends, and one-nighters. But Freya was so different from any of the women he'd been with before. For one thing, she was a puzzle, one which he intended on solving. There was hurt in those beautiful eyes of hers. Joe had said that she had been through a lot. What exactly was “a lot”?

  The other issue that he was worried about was the Joe factor. Joe Morgan was not only Brian's employer, but he was also Brian's mentor.

  There was that voice in the back of Brian's head going, Joe's going to go ape shit if you put the moves on his daughter.

  That voice was certainly ringing a little bit louder tonight, but it was ignored. Brian didn't plan on doing anything inappropriate. Hell, Freya didn't seem like the type who would let him.

  He had just finished rolling out the pizza dough when the doorbell rang. Tensing just slightly, he walked to the front door. He took a deep breath and opened it. What he saw both shocked and amazed him.

  The Freya standing at his doorstep didn't look like the Freya who had backed away from his handshake nor did she look like the hooded Freya who he had just spoken to an hour ago.

  For one thing, she wasn't in sweats or hoodies anymore. The most startling transformation was her fresh-faced appearance. She had looked tired before. Now she looked...stunning. Whatever she had done within that hour must have been amazing.

  She was also wearing a green sweater that emphasized her long, dark brown hair, which was currently cascading down her shoulders and along her back. She was wearing jeans, though they hung on her body like she had missed a lot of meals in the past month. He hadn't realized that she was so thin. Well, he'd have to get her eating then—that was if she ended up liking his cooking. The jury was still out on that one.

  Forcing himself not to gawk, he immediately said, “Hi. Please, come on in. You look...nice.”

  He could have kicked himself for that comment. He had wanted to say that she looked beautiful, incredible, gorgeous. How “nice” had come out was beyond him. Maybe he was trying to stop himself from trying to outright seduce her, something that he was pretty good at when one looked at his record. However, with Freya, it was almost like an invisible sign over her head saying, “Joe's daughter. Do not touch.”

  An odd expression crossed her face. Brian couldn't quite read it.

  She finally and quietly said, “Uh...thank you.”

  Damn it.

  That wasn't the reaction he had wanted. Regardless, he had to keep things moving, so he gestured for her to enter. She did but tentatively. Everything about her seemed hesitant, almost as if she was scared. Of what, Brian didn't know.

  Freya finally came in the house, her eyes flickering around the entryway. The décor was modern with slight accents of more rustic; there were pictures of the wilderness and oak furniture with modern colors and bronze finishes. Brian wasn't the type that cared too much, but he had paid someone who did care to renovate the house. All Brian cared about was that it was comfortable. And right now, all he could see was that Freya was very uncomfortable, something that Brian needed to fix and fix fast.

  “Here, I was about to top the pizza. Why don't you come to the kitchen with me and pick out what you want?”

  She followed him down the hallway to the kitchen, keeping her distance. As he walked around the central island counter, he pointed to the pizza dough.

  “We've got a blank slate here, and I've got a stocked kitchen. It's one hundred percent up to you with what you want.”

  She looked at the pizza dough and then looked back at him. It was one of the first times that she looked at him. None of the times that he had talked to her had she looked him in the eyes.

  “I'm sorry that I was rude to you...earlier,” she told him in that same quiet, soft voice of hers.

  He looked at her in disbelief.

  “You're probably the least rude person I've ever known,” he told her.

  Scared, frightened, timid was more what she was. Not rude.

  Freya didn't respond to him. Instead, she just looked at him with those big, brown eyes of hers. God, he couldn't stand it. She was too beautiful. She was like a fucking forest nymph that he had caught off guard. Too much long brown hair that fell into ringlets far down along her shoulders and back. Too much woeful brown eyes that made him fucking crazy.

  “I...um...like a lot of vegetables...on pizza,” she told him.

  “Well, I like a lot of meat on mine,” he said. Typical, he realized. “How about we do a compromise and do both?”

  There was a slight—a very slight, almost not even noticeable—smile on her face.

  “I think that we can do a compromise,” she said.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  He was honestly stunned that she was being so...sweet. Was she warming up to him, or was this his imagination running wild?

  For the next fifteen minutes or so, there wasn't much talking. However, it was probably one of the most relaxing moments of his life. Everything about Freya just felt...right.

  Freya pointed to the vegetables and meats that she wanted to be chopped on her pizza, and then Brian took his Misono knives and made mincemeat out of everything. After spreading the pizza sauce and placing the ingredients on the dough, he sprinkled out the fresh mozzarella cheese on top of the pie and placed it in the oven.

  When he was done, he looked at her and said, “It's going to be a little bit. Would you like to sit down in the family room?”

  He pointed to the family room that expanded the open concept kitchen/family room area. She glanced at the plush brown leather couches.

  “Um, okay,” she said quietly.

  It was only a few moments after she had settled herself on the couch that he had decided to take a big chance. Uncorking a bottle of his favorite Pinot N
oir (yeah, he had become a wine snob after he had found cooking as a way of dealing with PSTD), he walked over and offered her a glass.

  She stared at him for a moment, her brown eyes looking at him and then the glass as if she were deciding what to do with it. Finally, she held out a hand and accepted the glass. Brian hadn't exactly wanted this to feel like a date. She was obviously uncomfortable with the idea. It was an odd feeling to have a woman who didn't want to throw herself all over him. For the past few months, he had been dodging them left and right. Freya was a refreshing change to that, even if she was a little on the timid side.

  Sitting down on the couch across from hers, Brian stretched out his long legs and took a sip of his wine. Avoiding eye contact with him, she did the same. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he finally decided to break the ice.

  “So, Freya,” he began as casually sounding as he could. “Your father hasn't told me a lot about you. Maybe you could fill in some of the blanks?”

  She visibly stiffened and looked uncomfortable, though Brian had no idea why.

  “What would you like to know?” She said quietly after a few more uncomfortable moments had passed.

  “Well, what do you do for instance?” He asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. She was treating this like an interrogation.

  “I'm...” She trailed off. “I was a teacher, but I think I'm going to change careers.”

  If she had looked uncomfortable before, now she looked agitated. She took another sip of her wine and continued to avoid eye contact with him. Brian kept wondering why everything he said made her uncomfortable.

  You're being real smooth tonight, he told himself.

  “Teaching...that's a noble profession. Takes a lot of patience from what I hear,” he said, trying to keep the conversation moving. “I'm sorry to hear you’re getting out of it.”

  She stared at her wine, her eyes starting to get glassy as if she were about to cry. Shit, he had hit a sore spot with her.

  “Hey, I didn't mean to get you upset...” He started.

  “It's okay,” she interrupted quietly. “Just some things I have to deal with.”

  Lord, he wished he knew how to handle this girl. He was usually pretty smooth at dating.

  But you aren't dating, remember? This is Joe's daughter. He'd shit a brick.

  “What do you do?” She asked suddenly. “Do you work with my father?”

  Brian sat there, stunned.

  Was she trying to lighten the mood, or did she honestly not know? It had been a very long time since he had met someone who didn't know who he was. Several years on the bestseller list and now the movie had made him a household name. And the tabloids loved him because of some of the women who he had dated.

  Could it honestly be that she just didn't know who he was? Was that why she wasn't fawning over him and trying to impress him? It had been a long time since he had met a woman who wasn't trying to get into his wallet or share a piece of his fame. It was...refreshing.

  “So, you...don't know?” He asked cautiously.

  She was already nervous, and he didn't want to upset her. She shook her head and stared down at her wine.

  “I guess you'd say I work more for your father, not with...I'm a writer. Not sure if you've heard any of my books. I've been marginally successful over the years.”

  Freya looked at him, studying him intently. Then her eyes widened, and she flung a hand over her mouth. She had made the connection.

  7:02 PM

  Freya felt like a complete idiot. How could she have been so stupid? She knew exactly who Brian Ash was. He was her father's most successful writer. In fact, she had read his first book, and there had been a movie made from one of his books. He was famous. She just hadn't made that connection that the man sitting in front of her was the author that everyone had been raving about for years.

  Dumb, dumb, dumb, she thought.

  It would obviously explain his nice home. She had probably seen a picture of him before and just had been too preoccupied to make the connection.

  “I'm so sorry,” she apologized, her face burning with embarrassment. “I just didn't...I wasn't thinking.”

  She was afraid he'd be angry. But nothing in his face hinted that he was. In fact, there was a slight smile beneath the strong jaw that was currently collecting five o'clock stubble. His gray eyes showed a hint of amusement. If he hadn't been so handsome, this wouldn't be nearly an issue.

  “There's no reason to apologize,” he said, chuckling. “I'm the one so full of myself that I automatically assume that everyone knows who I am. Although, I will say it is refreshing to spend some time with someone who isn't all about sucking up to ‘the famous author.’”

  “Still,” she insisted. “I should have known. It's my dad's life...I guess I've been preoccupied with other...things...”

  Of course, there was no way that she'd tell him or even hint at what had happened to her. She liked the idea of him treating her like a regular person and not someone who was about to break, even though she felt that way most of the time.

  There was a loud beep in the kitchen that broke her train of thought.

  “Saved by the timer,” he joked, getting to his feet. “Would you mind assisting?”

  Freya did have the sense to realize that the man could handle himself around the kitchen and was just asking her to distract herself from her little slip-up.

  Yeah, little slip-up, she thought. This guy is handsome, successful, famous, rich, and you had no clue, didn't you?

  She got up from the couch and followed him into the kitchen. She wasn't sure what to do with her wine glass, not wanting to put marks on his nice furniture, so she brought it with her. Immediately, when she started walking, she realized that she was starting to get tipsy. Freya hadn't had any alcohol since...well, since that fateful New Year’s Eve. She felt like a complete lightweight. And there was also the issue of her meds. She didn't even know if she was allowed to have alcohol with the concoction her psychiatrist had her on. Perhaps, she should quit while she was ahead?

  Watching as Brian pulled the pizza out of the oven, she moved over to the island countertop and set her glass on the beautiful granite. She watched as he pulled out knives, trying not to flinch at the involuntary jerk in her shoulders. She was still wary of knives.

  He was a well-built man who obviously kept in great shape. His black sweater did nothing to conceal the powerful body underneath. His lean hips fit his dark-wash jeans perfectly. If it had been another time, she would have been so excited to be here with this man, but right now, she felt nothing but trepidation.

  “Would you like a refresh?” He asked as he began cutting the pizza into slices, nodding toward the almost empty glass.

  “I'm good,” she said, hoping she wouldn't seem rude.

  When he looked at her for a moment with a puzzled expression on his face, she offered, “I'm on some medication.” She hoped she didn't sound like an invalid and that he wouldn't ask what the medication was for. Luckily, he nodded, accepting her answer without further question.

  Sliding a plate in front of her, he plopped down a slice of pizza. The aroma was wonderfully fragrant. It looked delicious, but her appetite had dwindled to almost nothing. She didn't know if it was the meds or the anxiety and fear or some combination of them.

  “Eat in the kitchen or the dining room?” He asked, pointing over to a room to the other side of the kitchen.

  “This is fine,” she told him.

  Pulling out a bar stool for both him and her, Brian gestured for her to sit down. For a while, they munched in silence, Freya forcing herself to eat the pizza. It was delicious, but her stomach was already protesting.

  “Is there something wrong?” He asked, after looking over at her and realizing that she was not devouring the pizza as he was doing.

  “I'm fine,” she told him.

  “Damn, please tell me it's not my cooking. Anything but that.”

  There was a slightly hurt look on his
face.

  She wasn't sure if he was exaggerating a little to be funny, or if he truly was upset, so she immediately told him, “No, no. The pizza is great. It's just the...”

  What exactly could she say? The last thing she wanted to do was offend him.

  “The meds I'm on...” It was the best excuse she could find, and it wasn't like she was exactly lying to him.

  “Sure,” he told her. “I understand.”

  She wasn't quite sure if he did.

  8:13 PM

  Brian was starting to form a theory about Freya Morgan. As he sat back across from her on the family room couches after their meal, he was formulating his hypothesis: She was sick or had been very sick at one time. Probably a long hospital stay.

  It would explain her thinness, lack of appetite, and general weariness. It would also explain why Joe Morgan had been very distant for the last few months. If his daughter had been sick, then he would have been beside himself. However, he still couldn't figure out why she was so skittish and shy. Maybe she was self-conscious of whatever she was recovering from? Maybe she was tired of being poked and prodded by doctors?

  They had made their way back to the living room after eating. Looking at her carefully, he could tell that she was starting to get tired. She looked drowsy, and he wanted to suggest that he walk her back to the guesthouse. But there was a part of him that wanted to be selfish and keep her here longer.

  For a moment, he fantasized that she was drowsy because he had spent the evening fucking her until she forgot all her troubles and worries. She had that very beddable look to her right at that moment that made his dick swell with lust.

  Damn it, he shouldn't be thinking those kinds of things with her.

  He didn't want to fall back to his old ways. After his second book had solidified him as a legit author, he had fallen into a pattern of women, women, and more women. Joe had known about it quite well, which was why Brian was sure the man hadn't mentioned his daughter before. Shit, he still wasn't sure why the man had dropped her at his doorstep.

  Brian had decided to make a change after Sydney Grace, the very famous actress that had plastered him all over the tabloids. She had been a complete airhead, and he had grown tired of being with women who were only attractive on the outside. The media attention hadn't been his cup of tea either. He wanted something more at this point. He wanted someone like Freya: sweet, smart, gorgeous.