The more he spoke, the more Andie forgot she was even cold.
"You know," Grayson continued, "it's almost impossible to get an internship from us, and the odds only decrease when it's last minute. Jack Phillip must have pulled some strings for you." He kept his eyes on her, taking one sure step forward.
What? Jack had called in some favors so she could get an internship somewhere else? Away from him? Why would he do that, when he was still asking her to come back to his company, to come back to … But it was just business, wasn’t it? She couldn’t take it personally, right? And he probably didn’t realize how she might take it doing something like that. In fact, she shouldn’t even take it that way. He was just trying to help, that was it.
"While that may be true," Andie said, trying to keep her voice steady, "I can assure you that I'm well worth those strings. I have a 4.0 and was given special permission to take this class which is only for seniors, and I'm a hard worker. I learn things fast, and I finish all projects and tasks I'm assigned, no matter how minimal. I wasn't aware Mr. Phillip called someone on my behalf, but I promise I had no idea, and if I knew he planned to do something like that, I would insist that he not."
"Because you have morals?" he asked, like the thought of someone having morals amused him.
"Because I was taught that success only comes before work in the dictionary. Because I understand the value of dedication and hard work and doing things myself. Because I don't need anyone to do things for me to get ahead in life and it makes me uncomfortable when they do."
She stopped. Somehow, she found her voice again and was able to make that entire speech without thinking about how Grayson's ass looked in those pants. She took a breath she didn't realize she needed and was thankful the darkness masked her red cheeks.
"If you had a less than acceptable résumé, we would not even be having this discussion," Grayson said, his voice firm but not angry. "Mr. Phillip is very influential; there's no denying that. However, he also comes from a rival company. If I didn't think you we're worthy of this position, I would have rejected his request and your application without question, believing that perhaps you might be a spy for his company wanting some insider information on our latest technological advances. Scenarios have played out that way more than I can count now. But you have one hell of an impressive résumé. You deserve this internship, Andie, there's no denying that. I still have no idea what happened between you and Jack that caused you to professionally part ways. To be frank, I don't care either way. But don't for a second think that you would be with us this fast without his influence."
Andie felt tears well up in her eyes once again, but she curled her fingers into fists so tight that she managed to keep them at bay. She was feeling so many things at once she knew she needed an outlet, and if she didn't get one soon, she'd start ugly sobbing in front of her superhot boss.
"You're stubborn." Grayson tilted his head to the side, almost as if he was looking at Andie through a different point of view. "I like that. No wonder Jack likes you so much."
Likes. As in, present tense. As in, his feelings for her haven't changed, even though things have been nothing short of rough between the two of them. As in, if she just put her pride aside, she still had a chance to be with him.
"I look forward to working with you, Andie," he said with another one of his mysterious smirks.
And just like that, he proceeded to walk into the mansion. No one stopped him or asked for his official invitation. He honestly had the look that he belonged here, or anywhere he wanted to be. She couldn't help but look at his posterior as he walked away and decided with a helpless whimper that he had a most amazing ass.
With one last look at that, she turned and headed to the valet. She could hear Miranda shouting her name from the entranceway and knew she would have to duck behind the valet booth or else she would see her and start talking. Andie didn't want to deal with that yet—though she appreciated Miranda's gesture. Her tears subsided and all thoughts of crying vanished. Adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream, which triggered her brain and all rational thought to evaporate until she found a way to get rid of the excess energy. And, it would appear, on a subconscious level, Andie knew just how to do that.
After the valet left to retrieve her car and Miranda headed back to the party, Andie whipped out her cell phone and dialed a number she managed to keep at bay for the past month. She had no idea where she would be if she drank, but she didn't want to think about it. In fact, she wasn't thinking about anything as she pressed the phone to her ear and listened to the echoing ringing.
It didn't surprise her that he didn't pick up. He didn't even have a personal voice message, instead opting for the automated voicemail woman. Something else he couldn't bring to do himself. A trait that both aggravated her to no end and made her fall even more in love with him than ever.
"Hey. It's me. Andie. Andie Shepherd. You know, in case you don't recognize my voice or my name. Anyway. I just talked to Grayson Pierce and he insinuated that you had something to do with the internship. The one at Eagle Corp. The one I had to take because..." Her voice hitched before she could stop it. So much for not crying. "It doesn't matter. Listen. I know the role you played in me getting that internship, and I just want you to know I appreciate it. Okay? I do. But why would you do that? I mean, seriously. The one thing I want is to be taken seriously and that won't happen with you coming to save me all the time. I just—" Here they came. The tears. "I can't need you anymore. I have to do things on my own. And even though I- I- I still ... I can't. We can't." And then, in little more than a whisper, "But I want to." She pressed her lips together. "So stop. Please stop helping me. I'm trying to get over you and that is not going to happen if you keep—"
The beep cut her off and gave her a reason to start crying, the ugly sobbing she held off while talking to Grayson Pierce.
"Ma'am?"
The valet was dangling her keys on his index finger, looking at her with slight trepidation and a little bit of fear.
"Ma'am?" he said again.
"What?" she snarled. She knew she looked more animal than human, with her red eyes and snot dripping down her small nose.
Andie knew it wasn't this poor man's fault. In fact, he probably had to deal with people who either snapped at him or completely ignored his existence, and she felt bad that she was adding to it. But she didn't handle frustration well—it was something she knew she would have to work on—and she didn't like that this guy was tiptoeing around her when all he had to do was hand her the keys and bid her a goodnight. That, and he was calling her ma'am when she was only seventeen years old. She knew her breasts were on display and tended to add a couple of years to her age, but she was in no mood for this.
"I am just a crying woman," she said as she reached in her purse and all but thrust a crumpled five dollar bill at him. She yanked her keys away from him. "You don't have to worry about eggshells, okay? Just treat me like a normal person. I am a normal person and can do things without help!"
With that, she attempted to stalk around him and into her waiting car—she probably should have washed it before driving everyone here, considering it looked like rust on a porcelain doll what with the cars the guests drove here, if they drove—but her heel twisted out from under her and she fell flat on her butt.
If the guy was a smartass, he would have made some retort about her needing help to walk. Instead, he helped her up, walked her to her car, and kept his mouth shut. Before she could offer him another five dollar bill or a sincere apology, he was off to assist another guest.
Well. That did nothing for her. She still felt guilty and upset and ... sad. She was sad. And there was nothing left for her to do but to drive back to Carey's empty house and suffer this feeling alone.
7
Keirah’s eyes shot immediately into Noir’s hazel ones. She couldn’t exactly read the expression currently occupying his face, but one thing was certain, it didn’t appear as though Noir was happy about
the evening’s turn of events.
Of course he wouldn’t be. He stared at her long and hard for a moment before Commissioner Jarrett started pounding on the door again. He clenched his teeth together in hopes to maintain some sort of patience before slowly raising his brow, as though he was warning her. Even with the time passing between them, the two still seemed in sync because she nodded once, finally understanding what he was conveying to her. With that, Noir disappeared down the hall and into one of the rooms to hide while Keirah headed over to the door in order to answer it.
Though she knew who it was, she opened the door only a fraction, keeping the chain lock in place unless Jarrett requested or ordered that he be let in the house. Seeing him standing there with a worried look in his soft, blue eyes caused Keirah’s stomach to clench with guilt. His light brown hair was messy, and he looked tired, but then again, the good Commissioner always did. It was near impossible to try and get rid of the increasing corruption that polluted this town, but Jarrett was trying as hard as he possibly could.
“Commissioner?” Keirah asked, feigning surprise by pushing her brows together. “Is everything all right?”
“May I come in, Miss Shepherd?” Jarrett asked, wanting more than anything for her to agree.
Keirah did, hoping that he wouldn’t search her apartment. She had no idea what would happen if Noir was found out, and she didn’t want either of them to be harmed by the other.
What the fuck had she gotten herself into?
“I’m sorry, I’m not dressed,” Keirah said, locking the door once again after Jarrett came in.
“It’s my fault,” Jarrett told her, smiling warmly as he turned to look at her. “I probably should have given you some sort of warning, but I wanted to talk to you.” He bent down and pulled Keirah into a hug, as though he was relieved about something. Keirah could probably guess what that was, but for now, she had to play innocent, so she hugged him back.
When Jarrett pulled away, his eyes immediately locked onto the small dining table, and Keirah inwardly winced. There were two cups of tea left on the surface of the table. He was going to figure it out. She was going to be arrested and Noir would be found out. But when she turned, she only found hers sitting there. Without warning, she let a slow sigh of relief slip through her nose. She should have known Noir would cover all corners. She should have known Noir would know what to do.
“Ehm, would you like some tea?” Keirah quickly offered, sliding around Jarrett’s presence and over to the table, perking her brow.
Jarrett smiled once more at her. “No, no,” he said in a polite tone, shaking his head. “I just wanted to talk to you about what’s happened in the past couple of hours. May I sit?”
“Of course,” Keirah said, trying to keep the nervous tremor out of her voice. She placed a fake smile onto her face and plopped down while throwing her arm out in order to offer Jarrett the seat adjacent to hers.
“I know this may be hard for you,” Jarrett began, wariness tainting his usual tone, “especially with your history regarding Noir. But I’ve watched the surveillance at Underwood Mental Institution and I saw what Noir did to your co-worker. I saw what he was about to do to you if you hadn’t released him. And I saw that he used you as his hostage. My first question, of course, is, are you all right?”
Keirah nodded a couple of times, but couldn’t bring the word of affirmation to her lips. Not yet.
“Do you know why he would let you go?” Jarrett asked suddenly, his brows pressed together. What killed Keirah the most was the fact that he was not accusing her in any way, he was simply worried. About her. “I ask you this because Noir always kills his hostages. Except for you. I can’t give any explanation as to why that would happen unless he has something else in store for you, and to be honest Miss Shepherd, I have no idea what that might be. Are you going to be okay for tonight? Shall I stay, just to make sure that nothing happens, that you’ll be protected? What time will your mother return?”
“No!” Keirah yelped, and then cleared her throat. “I’ll be fine, Commissioner. If anything, Noir needs to get clothes and someplace to hide out for the night. I highly doubt he’ll be bothering me, especially when that’s the first place people are going to assume he’ll go to.” She hoped she sounded convincing. She hoped Jarrett wouldn’t stay. “My mom should be here any minute now.” A lie, yes, but a necessary one. She had no doubt Noir wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he stayed any longer.
The Commissioner looked at her doubtfully for a long moment before finally nodding a couple of times. “Right,” he agreed, though it didn’t sound very much like he truly did. “Well, then, I’ll assign a police unit to circle your block every half an hour just to make sure.” He stood up then, still unsure of whether or not he should stay or if he should go.
Keirah followed suit, and smiled at him, this time, sincerely. “Thank you for your concern, Commissioner,” she told him. “It really means a lot that you’re so worried about me. Shall I walk you out?”
Please don’t sound too eager, she thought.
But he agreed, and within a moment, Commissioner Jarrett had left her residence.
Another sigh of relief came out of her mouth, and after locking the door again, she turned. Noir was sitting at the dining table, completely dressed in some ridiculous outfit he managed to find, looking at her with lazy regard, his feet resting on the table, as though he was bored with the whole thing. But Keirah knew Noir better than she gave herself credit for because there was something in his eyes besides mere boredom. Something dark.
“Tut-tut-tuts,” he said, clicking the tip of his tongue against the ceiling of his mouth and raising his brow as he locked eyes with the young woman. “It would, um, seem to me that people do not realize that you are, hum … mine.” With the last word, his eyes narrowed dangerously, but his demeanor still seemed unperturbed. “Go into your bedroom.”
Keirah furrowed her brow at the order as the slight offense she was feeling touched her features. They had spent maybe an hour together, and all of a sudden he was going to order her into the bedroom in her own home. What, did he plan that the two would consummate their relationship now? Did they even have a relationship?
“Why?” she asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion in her tone.
This seemed to have amused him, but instead of indulging in laughter, his hazel eyes froze over and he repeated his order. This time, however, his voice growled, and when he finished, he smacked his tongue over his lips. A warning, Keirah knew.
She decided to indulge him this time, if only to satiate her own curiosity. Noir stood up and followed her with a gleeful smile on his face.
“Now uh lie on your, hum … bed,” he told her. His right hand twitched with anticipation and the corner of his lips curled up.
Keirah did as she was told, crawling into bed and lying on her back. She wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do to her, but there was anticipation slipping through her body. It wasn’t until she heard the familiar flip of a switchblade did her heart stop.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice slightly shaky but otherwise firm.
“Well, duh, princess,” he said, shaking his head condescendingly. “We’re going to, um, fix the problem.”
Noir leaned over her, his sharp, dark eyes taking in everything she had offered. His desire for her was insatiable, and for a moment, he was tempted to take full advantage of it. She looked so delectable, waiting for him to do whatever he needed to do to her … And there was so much he wanted to do to her. So much he would do to her.
He reached his hand out until his fingertips came in contact with the soft skin on her face. There was a transparent sizzle that consumed the two of them. Whatever chemistry they had previously shared had not vanished during the time when they weren’t together. In fact, it appeared as though it had only been heightened.
Noir took the blade he had flipped open and, just as he had been with his fingers, caressed the left side of Keirah’s
face with the cool metal. It appeared as though that was all Noir was going to do, and for a moment, he felt the same way. Nothing could distract him quite like Keirah could …
But then, it happened. The blade tore into her flesh, causing Keirah to let out a scream in surprise. It was over in a few seconds, but it felt like forever. As though her whole face was one fire.
“What the fuck was that?!” Keirah asked as her cheeks turned red and tears poured out of her eyes. Those on the left side mingled with her blood and ran down the rest of her face, like some sort of pink waterfall.
Noir smiled at his work, his eyes flickering over the J he had carved into her face. “There-ah,” he murmured happily, more to himself than to her. “Bee-you-tee-full!”
It had been a few hours since he had carved his first initial in the side of her face. He still frowned at the thought, unsure why he just didn’t write N. N stood for who he was now, Noir, something somebody could never understand. He never went by his first name. In fact, it was only Keirah who knew what it was. But it was as though he had no control over his actions when it came to her. Even when he was doing the act, he wasn’t putting any unnecessary pressure on her face. And there it was, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen on a woman in his entire life. A J. His J. Now everybody would have to know that she belonged to him and nobody else. There would be no doubt.
And she didn’t belong to just Noir, but Jace as well. She was his in every sense of the word. And if people still didn’t heed his warning, still tried to harm her in any which way, he had no problem disposing of them. In fact, he looked forward to doing just that.
Somehow, the young woman had managed to fall asleep. Remnants of tears still stained her face, and the J was currently crusted with dried blood, but her breathing was even and full. A couple of times, however, she would wince or even whimper in her sleep. He loved the sound of her pain, knowing it was he who had inflicted it on her and nobody else.
Catalyst: Book 2 of The Dark Paradise Trilogy Page 6