The Sirens of SaSS Anthology

by Anthology

  Yeah, he’s gawking. If only he knew…

  Girls like me didn’t know the meaning of vain growing up, but the city had taught me well. I couldn’t deny it felt nice to have an attractive man’s full focus. I was rarely short of attention, but such serendipitous attention… He was the dangerous sort of connoisseur because he was so undeniably handsome he didn’t require assistance finding dates.

  Affluence and good looks with a hint of arrogance hid in those deep blue eyes. And the sheer size of his hands, the breadth of his shoulders, and the smolder of his gaze… It was enough to suck the air right out of our private, little hallway.

  My manicured finger nudged the elevator button to a golden glow as the antique dial ticked up to our floor. My will trembled as I demanded I not look back. I worked damn hard to get here and I couldn’t afford any distractions. Literally.

  Ten seconds left.

  His throat cleared just as the brass dial hit our floor and the doors parted with a delicate ping. The slender four-inch heels of my Prada pumps crossed the threshold, my mind waiting for the precise moment I’d make eye contact, knowing full well it would be sharp and jolting, like a roller coaster letting go at the top of a steep hill.

  Eyes down, I stepped over the threshold and turned, still not giving him the satisfaction of registering his presence. I’d mastered the art of coy and unknowing, but normally there wasn’t much risk involved. Well, not the sort that scared me. I might look delicate, but I could make a grown man cry.

  Eye contact was a gamble I shouldn’t take with him. But I wanted to see his response to my gaze. Would he suck in a sharp breath, hold it? Look away? My insides clenched with acute anticipation. I needed to experience that intoxicating split second in time when he knew I noticed him—when I chose to do so.

  I wasn’t a bitch and I wasn’t self-centered, but I was alone in a scary world with a dirty history and my façade was the only veneer protecting me from a muddied past. My appearance was the opaque distraction hiding the girl I used to be from the world I desperately wanted to belong to.

  It was a role I needed to flawlessly portray, my chance to bury my past once and for all. I was never going back to where I came from, back to being that girl. Avery Johansson was my present and my future, so that was the only woman he and every other man would ever see.

  Tipping my head at just the right angle to show off the contours of my high cheekbones and smoky eyes, I slowly raised my gaze, pretending to notice him for the first time. My fingers already called the doors to close, but there it was… Intense, provocative desire thrumming through the charged air as this silent game of how good we could fuck played out in a snapshot of time that would never come true. And he drew in that breath just as I’d hoped he would—a reward for him, a reward for me. A shame we’d never actually fuck.

  “Wait—”

  The door closed and I let out a relieved breath, a twisted smirk pulling at the corner of my mouth. I loved playing cat and mouse, but only when I was the cat.

  I wouldn’t necessarily classify him as mousey or timid. Despite his glacier good looks and palpable, pretty boy propriety, there was something savage hiding under the surface, something untamed. It was dangerous to taunt a tiger. Maybe that’s why my panties were wet, because I knew I was doing something I shouldn’t.

  A satisfied heat coiled in my stomach as I stashed away all thoughts of my sexy neighbor and focused on the evening ahead. But the thought of him didn’t go away easily. It was as if I had to carefully fold each memory into the tightest origami and tuck it somewhere out of reach. I’d never resist the temptation to keep considering all the various positions we could find ourselves in, dwelling on his every sexy detail down to the delicate divot of his upper lip.

  He certainly was handsome. Masculine yet beautiful. Devastating eyes. A true distraction that lingered long after I willed myself to stop imagining him—naked—at my feet—on his knees.

  The elevator jostled and slowed as I drew in a bracing breath and tightened my posture just before the doors opened to the lobby. Shoulders back, tits out. Showtime.

  Pasting on a pleasant smile, I sashayed out of the lobby and offered the concierge a polite nod as he held the door. All personal details about myself were masterfully disguised as I took that first step into the evening, autumn air.

  The sleek Aston Martin Rapide idled silently by the curb as I carefully navigated the brick and cobblestone sidewalk in my pumps. My date, a man with passable looks, a receding hairline, and a designer suit I knew he didn’t choose himself, appeared beside the driver’s door and grinned.

  His gaze measured me from head to toe, undeniable approval reflecting in his eyes. Not devastating eyes like the pair that studied me upstairs, but older, worn by time and the stress that came with a hard-earned fortune and little time to play.

  “Avery,” he greeted affectionately, gently clasping my elbow and leaning in as if intending to kiss my cheek but not daring to actually put his lips on me. “You’re stunning, as usual.”

  The musk of his cologne lingered on my cheek, a scent I’d be wearing all night once I sat in his car. It wasn’t an unpleasant fragrance. To be honest, I liked it more than most. But there was nothing I favored more than a man’s natural scent, clean from the shower without a trace of femininity. I wished someone would let men know I wasn’t the only woman who felt that way.

  “It’s nice to see you again, David. I’ve missed you.” I hadn’t, but this was the role I played.

  He opened my door, his chivalry noted and appreciated—an occupational perk I often enjoyed. Once he was behind the wheel he glanced at me and smiled. I returned the gesture because it was expected.

  “Dinner first?”

  I’d already eaten, but he didn’t need to know that. “Sure. Where would you like to go? You always find the best hidden gems in the city.” He didn’t. He went to all the usual rich and famous haunts, but the goal here was to make him feel superior and unique. Reminding him he wasn’t my only Daddy would be an extreme faux pas. I knew better and that was part of what made me good at my job.

  “I have the perfect place in mind.”

  The car shifted, its quality and design evident in the way the leather seat hugged my body at the slightest turn. Another luxury I relished, one I never imagined two years ago when I left my home in Blackwater.

  Shelving the brief recollection of my old, dilapidated mobile home—manufactured home to be more PC—I focused on the present. That shelf where I kept the memories I never talked about, was getting cluttered. Unreturned phone calls from Momma, friend requests from old acquaintances left in social media purgatory, and too many dusty recollections to count. But I kept squeezing my dirty past anywhere it would fit, ‘cause I ain’t never going back to that hellhole…

  This was where I belonged and planned to stay.

  Chapter Two

  I stared through the tinted window of Christopher’s Porsche, admiring the brick homes towering down Society Hill. I live here. The thought never got old.

  The exquisitely maintained brick townhomes along Delancey Street were so picturesque, day or night, with their high gloss painted shutters and waving American flags. Sometimes I felt as if I’d been transplanted from a government crisis into a Norman Rockwell centerfold.

  “Can I walk you up?”

  My gaze drifted from the handsome street dotted by antique streetlamps to rest on my date’s hopeful smile. He was a gentleman, but I suspected others often missed his softer sides. Disinterested in what hid under that designer suit, and fully aware of the wedding ring on his finger, I played the sweet innocent who always abided the rules.

  My polite smile softened my eyes. “Thank you, but I don’t want to trouble you. Parking’s a nightmare and it’s only a short walk to my door.” I couldn’t wait to wash off the ten pounds mascara weighing down my lashes.

  “I don’t mind. I’m sure I can find a spot nearby.”

  Keeping my expression friendly, I noted the non-
verbal invitation he was fishing for, careful not to fall for the bait. He would park, walk me to my door, try for a kiss and use his best moves to secure an invitation inside. If I were privy to his imagination, there would be some pretty intense petting that would undoubtedly lead to sex. But that wasn’t what this was, and I remained unshakably grounded in my own mind, which only entertained fantasies motivated by my own personal benefit.

  “Christopher,” I said gently, brushing my fingertips over the back of his hand. “You know that’s not how this works.”

  “Maybe we should renegotiate our arrangement.”

  Maybe we should, but I wasn’t a fool and I never agreed to anything after cocktails or midnight. “We could, but I think that’s a conversation best had in the light of day.”

  By then he’d reconsider because everything came with a price and I’d yet to appraise the true cost of my dignity. Chances were, no matter how rich the client, none of them could afford the whole package. My heart wasn’t for sale.

  Appearing to accept I wasn’t going to budge, he eased back in the driver’s seat, out of my personal space. “I’ll call you.”

  “I hope you do. Tonight was wonderful. Thank you.” Only because I rejected him did I press a kiss to his jaw, a consolation he wasn’t used to receiving from me. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight. I’ll wait until you’re inside.”

  So thoughtful.

  I exited the car and pulled my wrap over my shoulders. It was chilly for autumn and I longed to strip out of this dress and these four-inch heels to snuggle into my fuzzy slippers and sweats.

  As the doorman greeted me I glanced back to give Christopher a wave, sighing as he pulled away. Some nights were more exhausting than others, but the perks of my job always far outweighed the drawbacks.

  On the elevator to the third floor, my finger slipped into my wristlet to glide along a crisp envelope. Whoever said cash was cold comfort didn’t understand the warmth of a renovated eighteenth century gas fireplace or eight hundred thread count sheets.

  I wasn’t a snob. Snobs didn’t appreciate the finer things. I appreciated every luxury I came by, each one a jagged reminder of where I’d been. This envelope would go home to Blackwater—another consolation to make up for my recent avoidance. My mother would be satisfied with the money and forgive me for not calling as much as I probably should.

  Stepping onto the ivory tile of the third floor I gasped as my foot slipped and my ankle twisted painfully. A quick pinch shot through my heel and my little purse flung from my hand. I went down with the grace of an antelope attacked on the nature channel.

  The cold tile floor smacked against my knees and palms as I caught my weight and my arms and legs sprawled inelegantly. Of course, the door across from mine opened.

  “Jesus, are you all right?”

  Bare feet stepped into my line of vision and I quickly swiveled to sit. I slipped my heels off, struggling to stand without exposing any concealed body parts.

  “My shoe broke.” I stood, applying too much pressure to my ankle and hissed with pain as I lost my balance.

  “Careful.” A large hand gripped my elbow and steadied me, jolting my body with an almost electric shock as my eyes lifted and stared into his.

  Everything I was, everything I thought, everything I believed I knew disappeared, as his gaze swallowed me whole. I was drowning in an ocean of arctic blue, those full lashes the most majestic shade of gold, prettier than the belly of a blushing cloud just as the sun sinks into the horizon below. I wasn’t breathing, but I didn’t have to. Drowning had never felt so good.

  I jerked my stare away and breathlessly took account of all my belongings. My purse was behind him on the floor. “Th—thank you.”

  Embarrassment curdled in my stomach as I jerkily pulled my arm out of his steadying grip. The flawless picture I’d painted a few nights ago was now smeared with the image of a graceless klutz. I needed to get into my apartment and out of this hallway.

  “Did you hurt yourself?”

  “Only my pride.”

  Although my palms stung, and I was certain there would be a nasty bruise on my knee by morning, it could have been much worse. I gave my ankle a slow wiggle before putting weight back on the leg. It was tender but didn’t appear sprained or busted.

  “No wonder you fell.” He lifted my hand holding the unbroken shoe and another bolt of electricity sizzled up my arm. “Look at these things. They’re stilts!”

  I pulled my hand back and scowled at him. That was a mistake.

  His crystal blue eyes pinched at the corners. Such creases weren’t caused by age, but charisma, charm, and a good sense of humor. There literally seemed to be some sort of magnetic pull coming from those eyes so I forced my gaze lower. His lips were full, surrounded by the perfect amount of dark blonde stubble. He was tall, at least a foot taller than me. Of course, I wasn’t wearing shoes, but neither was he.

  My head tipped away, and I couldn’t hide the flush warming my cheeks, not with my pale hair twisted into a tight bun. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

  My gaze returned to my wristlet and held, silently begging him to go back inside so I could gather my belongings and nurse my wounds in private. Mainly, I wanted to ice down my ego, which was pretty wounded at the moment.

  His head turned, his stare following mine. And then I was looking at his hair. The tousled, flaxen waves struck me as Nordic, and maybe he was. It made sense, given his height. He bent to collect my purse, his body folding low and springing back up with the grace of a jungle cat.

  Tiger.

  I swallowed, only to find my throat bone dry. I was a cornered antelope. Running would only entice the predator.

  “You dropped this.”

  My focus lingered on the ridiculously long fingers clutching my tiny purse and a frisson of servility spiked in my blood, changing my inner temperature from uncomfortably warm to scorching hot. I cringed at the docile way my body responded in his presence. I was the alpha.

  I didn’t want to take the purse for fear I might touch him again, but apparently, he didn’t register my personal boundaries.

  Clasping my free hand, he lifted it, pressing the wristlet into my palm and curling my fingers around the leather. The pad of his thumb was slightly rough and his skin warm. The contact disappeared before I could truly decide if I liked or hated it.

  “I’m Noah.” The deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver up my spine.

  Clumsily, I took a step back. “Thank you, Noah. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

  “You didn’t. I’ve been meaning to introduce myself since you moved in, but you always seem to be on your way out.”

  I nodded because my vocal cords had dried up like an old mollusk. I could almost taste the sand clogging my throat.

  Blinking up at him, I got lost in his expectant stare. Damn it! Stop looking at him!

  It happened so suddenly, like Alice falling through the looking glass, there one moment, gone the next. No matter how much I wanted to find my bearings I couldn’t stop falling. Deeper and deeper into his stare.

  All I could think of was when we were kids playing tag at the old quarries. When the person who was It chased me, my heart would race a million miles a second as I hauled ass back to base. My heart was racing like that now. I yearned for sanctuary. I needed to get to base.

  A sharp mental smack landed in the back of my head as the last of my commonsense showed up to save the day.

  He’s not for you! Stop looking at him like that before you ruin everything! Do you want to move? You don’t shit where you eat!

  Without another word, I turned and hobbled to my door, my bare feet slapping along the cool tile and my face pinching with every limping step. With a trembling hand, I removed my key and completely missed the lock, stabbing just past the deadbolt and taking a gouge out of the finish. I tried again, my heart pounding in my ears and fingertips.

  I wasn’t a fool. This wasn’t some burst of sexual attraction throwing me off. It couldn’t
be. It was my sole desire to appear as if I belonged, to prove I had the right to be there, the eloquence to not stick out like a sore thumb, and the privileged upbringing to never need to explain myself. Busting my ass like a first-rate bimbo wasn’t exactly sending that message.

  “I didn’t get your name.”

  Head down, I licked my lips as the door gave way. There was no saliva in my mouth. Ash dry. Swallowing was uncomfortable, but I did it anyway.

  “It’s Avery. Avery Johansson.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Avery Johansson. I hope to see you around.”

  With a tight nod, I pushed into my apartment and shoved my back against the door. My hand gripped the knob as my fingers slackened around my shoes, sending them clattering to the hardwood floor. I panted quietly.

  Shutting my eyes, I rested my clammy palm on my chest where my heart beat like a tribal drum. My head fell back and I sighed.

  These people were so damn perfect—especially him. I couldn’t embarrass myself like that again. And I certainly couldn’t afford to get near him again. Why was he affecting me differently than every other man I’d met since moving to Philadelphia? I didn’t like it.

  Sagging against the wood, I groaned. What was it about him?

  “Jesus Christ, he’s pretty. I might have to move even if I don’t fuck him.”

  Chapter Three

  As the manicurist applied a second coat to my nails my phone flashed, notifying me of an email. Careful not to smudge the fresh polish, I swiped the pad of my finger across the screen and navigated to my inbox. Micah. Short and sweet in true Micah style.

  Tonight. 6:00. Black tie formal. Can you make it? ~M.

  I quickly responded, letting him know I’d be ready and waiting. The message sent and there was a ping only seconds later with his reply.

  Good girl. Money sent to your account for attire and jewelry. I’m picturing you in something red. See you in a few hours. ~M.

  Moving to the dryer, I glanced at the time. Five hours. I could make that work. “Is it possible to fit me in for a wax?”