by May, Linnea
She huffs, shaking her head with a smile that seems to belittle me, as if I should know better.
“Work,” she says. “I have a part time job at the University’s coffee shop.”
Of course she does. And I actually did reveal a certain degree of ignorance by not automatically assuming she’s not privileged enough to be able to put all her focus on her studies.
“So, that’s what you do with a free afternoon,” I say, nodding toward the sheet music. “You practice?”
She shrugs. “Yes. I enjoy it, and there’s no such thing as too much practice.”
“I think there is,” I tell her. “There’s a reason why there’s so much talk about work-life-balance. People get fucked up when they overdo it. You need some time to rest, to refresh and clear that pretty head of yours.”
She blushes and glances at me, only to evade my eyes a second later by staring down at the keys in front of her. So fucking alluring.
“I’m okay,” she says, her voice so low that I can barely hear her. “I wouldn’t even know what else to do.”
So, she’s going to ignore that I just called her pretty. She’s not calling me out on it, and I kind of expected that. But she’s not unfazed by it.
“Want me to give you some ideas?” I ask, leaning on the rim of the piano.
She takes in a deep breath and shakes her head.
“I really should be going,” she repeats.
She gets up from the bench and hastily starts gathering up her sheets of music.
Fuck, this is one scared lamb.
“What are you afraid of?” I ask her, locking her in place with my intense gaze.
Elodie pauses and turns to me. She’s wearing her chocolate brown hair down today and it falls over her shoulders in perfectly calm waves, framing her pale face and her naturally red lips, giving her the appearance of a real-life Snow White. She bites her lower lip and furls her eyebrows just the slightest bit.
“I have nothing to be afraid of,” she says eventually. “Right?”
Oh, she couldn’t be more wrong.
Chapter IX
Elodie
I have no idea what his deal is. Why is he still here? Why did he show up in the first place? What is this supposed to be? Is he making fun of me? How does that add up with the charm he showed me on the day we first met?
Our eyes are locked on each other, and I feel as if he just challenged me to a dare, which is ridiculous.
“If you think you have nothing to be afraid of,” he says, “then why are you being so defensive and withdrawn?”
I frown at him. He must be kidding.
“Why are you here?” I finally dare to ask. “You don’t live here. Why are you not home with your fiancee?”
“We don’t live together,” he says. “At least not yet.”
That strikes me as odd. Are these families really that old-fashioned? Are they not allowed to live together until they tie the knot? I find that hard to believe.
“I have my own place,” he continues. “A very nice penthouse close to the East River. Beautiful views.”
He winks at me. “You should come with me and check it out.”
Is he serious? I force a laugh and cross my arms protectively in front of my chest.
“What are you suggesting?” I ask, now challenging him. At least that’s my intention.
He shrugs, acting as if his flirting with me was the most normal thing on the planet, when it’s so clearly not. It’s outrageous and wrong on so many levels.
“We both have some free time with nothing to do, and I firmly believe you need to learn to relax and do something better with your time off than practicing,” he says. “I see no harm in us having a drink together on my rooftop. Or a little barbeque if you’re hungry.”
“What? Why?” I ask.
“Why not?” he retorts, slowly driving me mad.
Because you’re about to get married? Because even if you weren’t, you’re way out of my league? Because the last time I did something stupid like this in my free time, it turned out to be a bad mistake? Because you’re clearly making fun of me?
“I’m hired to provide music for your engagement party,” I remind him. “What makes you think that your invitation is okay?”
He chuckles.
“You’re naughtier than you look,” he says, causing my cheeks and ears to burn.
Our eyes meet again, and I can see mischief dancing in the dark gray depths of his. He’s not as close to me as he was before, but I can still feel his proximity as if he was wrapped snuggly all around me. I can feel his warmth, sense his masculine smell, and I fight the allure of his presence. The way he looks at me reveals that I’m not the one with the ulterior motives, he is.
“All I’m suggesting is for you to have a drink at my place, and maybe a bite to eat,” he says. “My treat. As a thank you for your efforts to make my family’s party a success.”
“Your engagement,” I repeat. “What would Gloria think if she knew you’re inviting random women to your place for drinks?”
He shrugs again.
“I can assure you, she wouldn’t care,” he says. “I’m quite positive that she’s not alone herself tonight.”
My eyes widen. What kind of messed up relationship are these two having? Is it one of those open relationship deals? Polygamy?
Either way, I want nothing to do with it.
“Look,” I say. “I don’t know what it is that you two are doing, but I want no part of it. I really have to go home.”
“You don’t have to go home,” he insists. “You just said you have nothing to do. You are just scared.”
I huff. “Scared? Of what?”
He casts me a confident smirk. “Me.”
We stare at each other again, our eyes smoldering, for what feels like an eternity, and I feel trapped. I’m still holding on to my sheet music, as if it could protect me from him and his charming yet confusing propositions.
After the disaster with Benjamin, I swore to myself that I would not get involved with anything messy again. Fooling around with a man who has hired me to play at his engagement party, my first real client outside the Juilliard school environment, a man from a powerful family, a family that could possibly decide about my future as a solo pianist – that would be the epitome of messy.
I won’t be that stupid.
“I’m not scared of you,” I insist. “But what you’re suggesting is making me very uncomfortable.”
He furls his eyebrows as if he seems to understand.
“Fine,” he says. “Do whatever you deem right.”
He straightens up, glaring at me. For a few seconds, I can’t help but wonder if this was a test? Did he come on to me like this to see whether I’m a decent woman who can focus on her job instead of being seduced by the most attractive man on earth?
If so, I’d say I passed.
He doesn’t give me that impression, though. If anything, he looks like a man who has just been turned down, a man who’s not used to being turned down.
He shoves his hands into his pants pockets and retreats.
“Stay as long as you wish,” he says. “No one will bother you.”
And with that, he turns around and leaves the room, closing the door with a loud bang behind himself.
I remain standing in front of the piano, as if I’ve just been turned into a pillar of salt, still clutching my music sheets against my chest.
Chapter X
Kingston
I knew she’d be a challenge, but I didn’t expect her to be that reluctant, that careful.
It was stupid of me to forget that I’m not the only one who’d be risking a lot with this. She has a job to lose, and a reputation to protect. Being hired by my family means more to her than just providing music for that one silly event, or two or three, if we decided to hire her for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding itself.
This is a tough one.
Still, I don’t know what it is with her. It seems like I�
�m losing all the power I usually hold over women. She’s intimidated by me and she’s attracted to me, but she doesn’t lose her mind over me.
Then again, she’s not some drunk bimbo at a night club, and I don’t have an easy job of it. It’s been a while since I’ve put my assets to work during daylight. The last time was with an intern at my father’s company, a girl very much like her. An innocent plain Jane with brown hair and big, unsuspecting eyes. She was afraid about losing her internship when I first approached her, but I managed to get her to trust me, at least in that regard. I don’t want to threaten these girls’ careers, but I also don’t want to end up with them hanging onto my arm for the rest of my life. Sadly, the little intern didn’t take that last part into account and left her internship with good references and a broken heart.
I didn’t care. It was stupid of her to believe otherwise, and I never said anything that could’ve made her think that we were meant to have more than a naughty fling.
She was good, though. Delicious. Breaking in girls like her is so much fun because the more they hide and suppress their inner whore on a daily basis, the wilder they get once you peel away that side of them.
That intern chick was good, but I can’t even remember her name. Three times, that’s it. That’s how long it takes before I get bored with them.
It won’t be any different with Elodie, but I need to make those three times happen because I know she won’t leave my head until I do. Plus, I’ve never been rejected. Never.
I pace about in my parents’ kitchen, contemplating my options. She’ll come downstairs any moment now, and I don’t want to let her leave just like that. I’ll offer to drive her back to campus again, hoping that it’ll give me another opportunity.
She’ll most likely say no, and I will insist, and we will go from there…
Just as I’ve made up my mind, I hear music coming from upstairs. She’s playing the piano again.
Just a few minutes ago, she was desperate to leave the house, and now that I’ve left her alone, she just continues to practice?
I walk out into the entrance hall next to the stairs leading to the upper floors and listen to her play. I’ve been standing there for less than a minute when Wally, our housemaid, shows up. She walks down the stairs with an apologetic expression on her face.
“I’m done for today,” she says, as she reaches the first floor and comes to a halt next to me. “I have to go home, my kids need dinner, but I’ve been told not to leave her in here by herself.”
Her gaze turns up the stairs.
“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it,” she adds. “I don’t have the heart to tell her to stop.”
“It’s okay,” I say, sensing an opportunity. “I’ll stick around and make sure she doesn’t rob us blind.”
Good old Wally looks at me with eyebrows arched in indignation. “Oh, I don’t think she would –”
“Me neither,” I assure her. “It’s just a precaution my parents are taking. You’re free to go, I’ll take care of this.”
She gives me a warm smile, and tilts her head to the side. “Thank you, Kingston. That is very sweet of you.”
It’s anything but sweet, but Wally doesn’t need to know that.
She leaves, and I’m alone in the house with Elodie, who’s still playing her music upstairs. As long as she’s playing, I’ll know where she is, and I also know that it wouldn’t do me any good to go up there and make another move on her.
Instead, I decide to stay downstairs and out of her sight. There’s a little sitting area next to the entrance hall. No one ever sits there, and it’s usually used for guests who are told to wait when my parents aren’t ready to receive them yet.
I sit down in a ridiculous-looking love seat that only a woman with my mother’s taste would acquire. The old-fashioned frame and the beige-colored cushions give this piece of furniture the feel of a long gone time. The entire room emits this antiquated feel, and I can’t say I care for it. I took great care to make sure that my own home doesn’t reflect my parents’ taste at all. My penthouse is sleek and modern with steel colors and – as my mother put it – an atmosphere that can only be described as cold as a man’s heart. I know she didn’t mean anything good by it, but I thanked her for the compliment.
I feel like an idiot sitting here. As if I was a dog waiting for its owner. Men tend to make fools of themselves when they are in pursuit of a woman, but I never saw myself as that pathetic. They usually fall to their knees as soon as I give them any kind of attention, and I’m not used to working this hard for a good fuck. Some would say I’m wasting my time because things could be so much easier if I just went out throwing money around left and right on champagne and chicks in the VIP section, and just take home the one that fancies me the most.
I know I could easily do that, and that’s what makes it so boring to me.
When Elodie’s music stops for longer than usual, my heart rate spikes up. I get up from my seat and smooth down my clothes like a fucking idiot. As if she’d care about the wrinkles in my sweater.
I hear the door open on the second floor, and I let a few more moments pass before I walk back into the entrance hall, getting there just as she comes down the stairs carrying the bag with her music sheets pressed against her side like a shield. Her eyes widen in surprise when she sees me.
“You’re still here,” she says, stating the obvious.
“So are you,” I say.
She slowly continues making her way downstairs until she’s standing right in front of me, holding on to her bag even tighter than before.
“Where’s Wally? I’d like to say goodbye,” she says.
“I sent her home,” I tell her. “She was done with her work and has kids to take care of at home.”
“Oh,” Elodie says. “Okay…”
She clears her throat and eyes the door. “Well, I’m gonna g-”
“Scared I might ask to take you home again?” I want to know.
She furls her eyebrows. “What is it with you and wanting to see me scared?”
“That’s not wishful thinking,” I insist. “That’s the simple truth. You are scared.”
She huffs and shakes her head.
“Well, were you going to make that offer?” she asks, now looking at me with a stern face. It’s incredibly endearing.
“No,” I say, following a sudden hunch. I’m going to try a different approach.
“Because I don’t want you to go home,” I add.
She’s startled. “Why… not?”
I step closer to her, expecting her to move away from me, as she did before. But she stays put, putting up her hands as a protective wall to suppress any visible reaction to my intrusion of her personal space. I know it gets to her. I can see the nervous flutter of her eyelashes, the fast paced breathing, and the blushing cheeks. Her eyes are still locked on mine, and I admire her for that because I know she’d love nothing more than to evade my gaze. It would make coming up with rational decisions so much easier.
But she’s trapped now. She’s trying to be brave, and I’m here to make sure she’ll lose her battle of conscience.
“Because I invited you for drinks at my place,” I say. “And I think it’s very impolite of you to decline.”
She tenses up and her breathing accelerates, while her lips part as if she’s calling out for me. It’s so fucking inviting. My cock twitches, eager to be buried inside of her.
I need to taste. I won’t let her go anywhere without claiming a taste of those pouty lips that are calling out to me.
She flinches when I move even closer to her, placing the tip of my finger beneath her chin to tilt her face up to mine.
“You don’t want to be impolite, do you?” I whisper, my face so close to hers that I can feel her breath on my lips.
She shakes her head.
Chapter XI
Elodie
I can’t fight it. I can’t resist him.
When Kingston Abrams presses his lips on mine it feel
s as if he takes everything from me. He strips me of my ability to fight, of every ounce of air, to push him away the way I should. He claims me with a passionate kiss, and instead of pressing my lips shut and denying him access, I welcome him in with a soft sigh.
He invades my mouth with a forcefulness that is completely out of line.
So damn alluring.
And so forbidden.
We can’t. We shouldn’t. This is so wrong.
I tell my brain to shut up for a few moments and close my eyes to indulge in the moment. I have never been kissed like this before. Hungry, sensual, demanding. It’s as if he’s just slipped me the sweetest drug, fogging my sanity and causing me to cast aside any sort of reason.
I lose hold of the bag with my sheets when he suddenly wraps his arms around my body to pull me closer. The bag falls to the floor and the flutter of paper announces my sheets of music spreading all over the floor beneath our feet.
I don’t care.
He pulls me against him and I’m met with a wall of muscle. He’s holding me in such a tight clasp, I couldn’t leave if I wanted to, while his other hand travels along the side of my body, wandering upward until it finds the side of my breast. I moan in pain when he gropes it through the thin fabric of my blouse.
Shit, shit, shit. What is happening?
My core is clenching, a tingly feeling acting as the harbinger of lust.
What is he doing to me?
While our tongues continue to intertwine, I helplessly lift my arms to touch him, but he won’t let me. The moment my hands land on his rock-hard back, he lets go of me and withdraws to grab my wrists and push my hands down.
“No,” he says, casting me a warning look.
That’s all. For a moment, I fear that this was it, that he tricked me, that I’ve lost my job and any other opportunity that might have come from this.
But his lips are back on mine within a few seconds, his strong hands still holding on to mine and keeping them pushed down to the side of my body, while he claims me with another kiss.
I’m completely at his mercy, helpless and stunned with desire. Being kissed like this comes close to torture. We’re both breathing as if we’re racing, our tongues still dancing passionately, while I can feel every part of my body heating up.