Anywhere (BBW Romance)

by Christin Lovell

  I’d heard the stress in his voice. On the surface, he was the epitome of composed, but inside, I knew he was panicking to some degree like me. I knew he felt the strain of the situation. Plus, not telling him gave me a reason to push harder. I needed to survive so I could see him again, so I could finally tell him how I felt.

  Facing death changes you; it makes you realize what is important to you, or, in my case, who. I’d known all along, but had never felt the need to force things. I’d been content under the assumption we’d have forever. A threat to that timeline changed things.

  “Be careful, aşkım. I cannot lose you.”

  There was a tight edge to his soft tone that tunneled straight to my heart, and had me promising, “You won’t.”

  I prayed I was right.

  Chapter Three

  Five Years Ago …

  Miami, Florida

  Aeren

  “Perdón, Señorita.”

  I squinted my eyes, wishing I’d splurged for the higher end sunglasses to better shade my eyes as I looked up at the male hovering beside my lounger, a fruity concoction in his hand. “Yes?”

  “El mujer at the bar gift this to you.” His Spanish accent was thick. He stood tall, – well, taller than my 5’2”, – and was dressed in head to toe white. Everyone in Miami wore white it seemed. Apparently I didn’t get the memo.

  I frowned, my gaze roving past him to the open bar of the hotel. I didn’t splurge on sunglasses because I’d splurged on the hotel, partly in hopes of meeting a billionaire, falling in love, and having his trust fund baby. – Admittedly, I was one billionaire romance book away from too many.

  A pair of dark eyes met mine across the way. He looked on with interest, standing casually beside the bar, sipping something strong and manly I was sure. His suit jacket was open; his white button up shirt was undone near the top. One hand was stuffed in a pant pocket; the other was handling his drink. He appeared to be a businessman looking to let loose.

  But with me?

  I looked to my left and found a gorgeous blonde, with legs for days, in a white bikini, reading an upscale fashion magazine behind the upscale shades I should have purchased, as she lounged in the chair. My stomach lost its tightness, as both relief and disappointment set in. This must be who he meant to give the drink to.

  I gave the server a small smile. “I think you have me confused with someone else. You should probably go check with the man again.”

  Poor guy. The young male looked all of twenty and very confused. He seemed uncertain on what to do next. “Uh, si, Señorita. Perdón.”

  Sighing, I watched him retreat for a moment before going back to my book, back into a world, albeit fictional, where the big girl got the sexy hero. Well, actually, where the big girl was brave enough to indulge in the sexy hero.

  It’s so sad. I’d day dreamed of this exact scenario before my vacation, thinking of how flattering and fantastic it would be, yet, when the moment arose, I froze before pawning off the gesture to the blonde beside me. Pathetic was what it was, a lost opportunity. At the very least, if it was a mistake on the server’s part, I could have spoken to the handsome guy at the bar. It may not have been lust at first sight for him, but he could have been a good guy with a good sense of humor and an open mind. Heck. He could have become a friend with a guest room in another city, which would have cut my travel expenses in half next time.

  And Poof! It was gone. Surrendered and burned by yours truly.

  Regret seemed to anchor itself in the pit of my stomach. I stared blankly at the pages before me, trying not to berate myself too harshly. I wasn’t succeeding.

  “In my country, it is rude to refuse an offering.” His voice was deep, arousing, with just enough husk around his enunciation.

  Lifting my head, I was shocked to find the tall, dark and handsome businessman sitting, facing me, in the lounge chair beside me.

  I bit my lower lip. He was even more attractive up close. His eyes were brown with flecks of dark chocolate and caramel striations. They were soft, yet keen. I knew he saw, noticed, everything.

  Dropping my gaze, I took in his empty hands.

  He chuckled, low and sexy. “No, I did not come with a bribe this time.”

  “I didn’t think it was meant for me,” I admitted.

  We stared at each other for a solid minute. Electricity seemed to magnify, crackling between our bodies. It felt trance like, dream like. This energy seemed to swaddle us, blocking all else around us out. For that one minute in time, it was just us, an introduction of souls.

  He broke away, his gaze doing a peripheral sweep before returning to me. Up and down, he took me in. “What is a beautiful woman like you doing in such a dirty city?”

  Feeling my brows furrow, I focused on him. “Was that a backhanded compliment?” I didn’t know what to make of him. I was pretty sure he was here alone, so I couldn’t be a prank to him and his buddies, but he had to be working some sort of angle, particularly considering the beauty I was lying beside.

  Perhaps our chemistry a moment ago was a figment of my imagination. It wouldn’t be the first time lust-filled attraction was one sided, specifically, single-handedly from my side. I was horrible at picking men, and even worse at reading them. One would think years of practice being hurt repeatedly by the opposite sex would be enough of an education, but it wasn’t. I was still a magnet for the wrong ones, and I was still naïve, a hopeless romantic craving a storybook ending that would probably never come.

  I studied the book in my lap, debating whether to walk away with my pride in tact or to indulge him, to take the chance I’d regretted not taking before.

  Meeting his gaze head on, I shrugged my shoulders. “I wanted to get away from reality for a few days.” I shifted higher in my seat. “Are you here for business or pleasure?”

  His gaze openly roamed me yet again. I could have sworn his irises darkened. “Business.” He paused before continuing, “But a good man always has time for pleasure.”

  I couldn’t place his accent. It was thick, yet he enunciated the English words well. “If you don’t mind me asking, what nationality are you?”

  He watched me closely, as keenly aware of me as ever. “I will tell you at dinner tonight.”

  The mystery only further intrigued me. The man was a mystery, a mystery draped in nice clothes, a sexy physique and an alluring international accent.

  I leaned forward; a smile split my face, giving me away as I narrowed my gaze on him. “Who said I was having dinner with you?”

  Was I actually playing hard to get? I was. Shit, I was really going for it. To hell with stereotypes, insecurities and hang-ups. I was doing this. I didn’t want the only vacation I’d been able to afford in three years to be one big pile of regrets.

  He stood, giving me a delicious view of him, all of him. He was a statue of lean muscle I wanted to drape myself across. “I will see you at six,” he informed me.

  I frowned, halting my dirty mind long enough to think logically. “You don’t even know my name.”

  Peering down at me, his eyes glistened with humor. “Your name will not tell me who you are.”

  My breath caught as he leaned in and kissed my cheek.

  “Do not make me chase you, aşkım.” He walked away, hands in his pockets. He never glanced back; he was the epitome of calm, cool and collected.

  Meanwhile, I was the epitome of dumbfounded, anxious and exhilarated. He’d managed to arouse me, contain me and challenge me all at once. I didn’t miss the fact that he didn’t admit anything. His words were carefully chosen, and that made him all the more dangerous, exciting and desirable.

  I didn’t know his name, where to meet him or what to wear; I knew I wanted an escape from reality, and I had a feeling my mystery man would help me with that.

  Chapter Four

  Present Day

  Aeren

  From that first night, I trusted Ram. He provoked and reassured me all in the same sentence. He’d never given me any r
eason to doubt him, so I needed to believe in him. I needed to believe that I would see him again, that he would be there later, and that he wouldn’t let me down if I made it.

  That was the catch: if I made it.

  “Mrs. Horace.” I found her in her favorite recliner. Her hearing aid must have been turned to max because the television wasn’t very loud.

  She glared at me suspiciously as I approached. “It’s that fellow that comes in and out every couple months, isn’t it?”

  My heart was still pounding heavily, seeming to cut each breath short. Extending my hand, I passed her the phone. “I think the less you know, the better.” Perhaps she was more aware than I’d given her credit for.

  She stood and walked to the bedroom.

  Lightning crackled, quickly followed by several rolls of thunder. I wasn’t looking forward to driving in the downpour. I wouldn’t be able to see as well, to monitor whether I was being trailed or not.

  The moment Mrs. Horace stepped into the living room, I froze, my chest seizing. The woman held some sort of handgun, something small enough for her to manage, but mighty enough to do some damage if need be.

  “Relax, dear. Phil bought it for me in case someone tried to get frisky or break in while he was at work. You know those gas station owners work terrible hours.” Her advance was steady, even, as though she knew I was somewhat frightened by the weapon. “Take it.” She held the firearm out towards me.

  I had no idea what the older woman must have thought of me as my gaze traveled between her, the gun and the window. I gnawed my bottom lip, fretting about. On one hand, a weapon could help if things got bad. On the other, it might not, considering I didn’t know how to use one. I was kicking myself for not letting Ram teach me.

  “Look.” She drew the metal back. “You just press this lever, aim and pull the trigger. It doesn’t matter if you miss. It should be enough to frighten the dickens out of the grimy bastards and give you a head start in your get away.”

  I doubted it would scare the men I’d met, but the surprise of it might trip them up for a second or two, which, in a pinch, could be the difference between life and death.

  I blew out a slow breath. I was doing this; this was really happening. I’d watched so many movies and TV shows, and in some twisted fantasy, I imagined myself as a bad ass rising above, kicking asses and taking names with the best of them.

  Reality was a world away.

  Instead, I was fairly certain my heart was going to pound out of my chest, my knees were going to give out and my stomach contents would end up on the ground. I was shaking so bad, I was afraid I’d accidentally set off the gun and injure anyone but the bad guys.

  Losing her patience, Mrs. Horace grabbed my hand and pressed the butt of the weapon against my palm. “Now go. I don’t want to miss when they spin the wheel.” She brushed past me, back to her recliner. She sat down and focused on the television as though nothing had transpired. “Check in when you can, dear. I’ll watch your door until you get back.”

  A slew of thoughts, responses, rushed my mind; the cold metal seemed to weigh down my hand and slow down my reaction time. I still didn’t know what to make of the senior citizen, but I was grateful for her. “Thank you, Mrs. Horace. Be careful, please.”

  She laughed, probably amused that her neighbor was waving around a gun she didn’t know how to work, yet was telling her to be careful. Couldn’t say I blamed her.

  Chapter Five

  Five Years Ago …

  Miami, Florida

  Aeren

  “Rahmi Çevik.”

  I lifted my head, meeting his gaze across the table. Our food had yet to arrive, leaving nothing but Cuban bread and silverware between us. “What does that mean?”

  He chuckled, his eyes lighting with amusement. “That is my name. Rahmi Çevik. Now, I ask, what does that tell you about me?”

  I considered him. He wore the same clothes as earlier with the addition of a tie. I didn’t know how he’d managed to locate me, but when I opened my hotel door at six, there he stood, leaning against the doorframe. I knew I ought to be uneasy, overly cautious, yet I found myself enchanted, relaxing into his company.

  Conversation was easy with him. He was smart, witty, and enticing. He kept me on my toes, required me to think when I was around him, yet he didn’t treat me as less than, stupid or witless when I couldn’t round up a response.

  “It tells me that at least one of your parents is from Eastern Europe,” I said. I knew the point he was attempting to make; yet I couldn’t let go of the importance of a name.

  He leaned in, slightly bending into the table as he held my stare. “Or it could be a rouse to make you believe that I was born to them. My point, aşkım, is that a name does not tell you who a person is. Having a Turkish surname does not tell you whether I am good or evil, whether I am honest or a filthy liar.”

  “No, but it tells me something. Your claim was that a name tells you nothing about who a person is. You just proved my point.” I giggled, feeling my cheeks plump up as I smiled.

  He sat back in his seat, his lips pursing ever so slightly. He turned his palm up and moved his hand in a gesture of capitulation. “In that sense, I suppose you are correct.”

  “How did you find me tonight?” I blurted the question without thinking. Once it was out, though, I knew I wanted the answer.

  He studied me, waiting until I began to fidget, or perhaps he was waiting to see if I would retract the question.

  I straightened in my true blue maxi dress, threading my fingers together in my lap. I’d accessorized with the only jewelry I’d brought with me: a yellow gold necklace with an anchor charm, a matching ring, and simple stud earrings. Patent nude peep-toe flats and a silver, gold and white clutch with an oversized geometric pattern rounded out my ensemble. I hadn’t anticipated going on a date, further proving that I never expected a daydream to become reality, despite all my wishing.

  Reaching inside his coat pocket, he pulled out a Blackberry. After pressing a few buttons, he flipped the screen towards me. “I took a photo of you outside. Your room number is what twenty-dollars will buy in a city full of underpaid illegals.” His tone changed near the end, eliciting chills.

  I was stupefied, horrified, by the photo. My shoulder-length hair did nothing to detract from my double chin or the fact that my breasts weren’t as perky as I’d have liked them to be. One knee was bent, giving my stomach more unsightly rolls than I could ever hope a sarong would cover. About the only positives were my legs were hairless and my no-chip manicure was flawless.

  Logically, had I been thinking logically, I should have been angry that my safety could be bought for so little. Further, I should have been horrified by the fact that he took a photo without my knowledge, not by the details of the photo itself.

  Yet I wasn’t.

  “Can I trust you, Rahmi Çevik?”

  His features turned down for one brief flash before he neutralized his expression. “If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead already.”

  I worked my bottom lip, irritation making its way to my surface. “Do you trust me, then?”

  His lips curled into a charming grin. He ripped off a piece of bread. “With my life.” He took a hearty bite out of the carb, watching me, almost as if he was suddenly amused by me, or perhaps he amused himself. Methodically he chewed and swallowed. “Eat. If I wanted to dine alone, I would not have invited you.”

  I cut my eyes at him. “I must have missed the invitation. I was under the assumption I had no choice.”

  “One always has a choice.” He winked, breaking off a chunk of bread and handing it to me.

  Chapter Six

  Present Day

  Aeren

  Adrenaline pumped through me, increasing my pulse, matching the rapid cadence of my heartbeat. “Lock the door behind me,” I instructed.

  “Yes, dear.” Mrs. Horace flicked her wrist, shooing me. She was back to feigning naïve and elderly.

  Thunder rumbled
outside again, further unnerving me. At the door, I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. I can do this.

  Moving the chair, I unlocked and cracked the door before peeking out. Not catching any sounds or movements, I cautiously slipped out, shutting Mrs. Horace’s door behind me. The gun suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds between my rapidly sweating palms. I edged along the wall towards the stairs, thinking it was the safer option. You were more likely to be cornered in an elevator, right?

  My stomach was taut, dread knotting my gut a thousand times over. My ears rang as my pulse pounded in my head, or was that my heartbeat? Fretting, I continually scanned my surroundings, fighting my nerves, my overactive imagination depicting the men popping out of every shadow and from around every corner.

  Arriving at the door to the stairs, I checked behind me one last time before pushing the door ajar. Glancing through the slit, I tried to listen for them above my overwrought senses to no avail. I was too worked up, though, the gun shaking in my hands. I had to make a run for it. There was no other way.

  Adjusting my grip on the butt of the weapon, I shoved the door open the rest of the way and made a mad dash down the steps. Heart racing, limbs shaking, I was lucky I didn’t stumble. It felt like my knees were going to give out on any step. My flesh prickled with awareness, with feeling and numbness at once. I was present, going through the motions, yet a part of me was in arrears, still trying to process it all.

  Overzealously, having over-hyped myself going down the seven flights of stairs, I barged out the door to the lobby and immediately drew the attention of two of my visitors from earlier.

  Shit!

  I knew my eyes widened as they raced towards me.

  Panicking, heart tripling in speed it felt, I ran to the back exit, leading to the parking garage, where I had parked my car on the third floor. Shit, shit, shit!

  Not stopping, I burst through the door to the parking facility. Humidity blanketed me. Rain surrounded the concrete structure, beating the ground loudly. I made a beeline for the cars; figuring bobbing between them was the slowest, but safest, route.