The Tempest

by Brit Constantine

  “From the very first moment you walked in here and I saw you in white … you goddamned killed me. I knew then I’d made the biggest mistake I would ever make in my life. And as if that wasn’t enough to end me, you went ahead and looked at me in the way you always do … and it killed this dead-man-walking twice.” He looks at me for a beat. “I want to start over.”

  “What would you do differently? What would you change about our beginning?”

  “I'd take you backstage and make you sit on my face. I've wanted it from the moment you asked for it … from the moment I saved you. I only wish I’d thought of it first.” His thumb starts to stroke the back of my hand. “Come back to me, Hazelnut. I’ll make you happy.”

  Everyone flies with angels by their side. His wings are the Devil's wings. He could sweet-talk me into walking through the Gates of Hell, willingly, if he so desired it. Every time I am in his presence, I feel like I'm burning up in hellfire. That sinful, clever tongue of his could have me repenting my sins for eternity.

  Still. He hurt me. I can’t give in too easily. I just can’t.

  He should sweat a little … before we sweat together.

  “I’ve been thinking about us in the last six days. Thinking about how it would have never worked out between us,” I lie.

  His eyebrows draw down. I feel like I’ve just kicked a box of kittens. “Why not?”

  “Because you're too…” I flick my gaze downwards, resting on his groin. “…big.” He stares at me, frustrated and confused.

  “Stop thinking between your legs, Lenic. I was referring to your height and width. Tell me, how would that work with my tiny body underneath your large, crushing one? You would squish me like a bug.”

  “What?” he grunts.

  “Oh, look. West is calling me over to the bar. We will have that dance you wanted later tonight. But I think it’s only fair you wait.” I shrug off his hold on me, and with a sway of my hips, a quick smile over my shoulder … I turn my head and melt back into the chaos of the arena.

  His hand has left a hot impression on my skin that I try so hard to ignore as my heart races. Crossing the room towards West, I know Lenic’s eyes are on me, but I force myself not to turn back and look.

  The crowd has built up in the bar area even in the short period of time since I arrived. West sips what appears to be his usual glass of ginger beer and sets it on the bar. “They’ll let anyone in these days,” West quips.

  "My boobs could get me into 10 Downing Street if I wanted them to,” I reply, standing by his side. He waves down a busy bartender and orders me a single vodka and tonic. I thank them both and tip it straight into my mouth, closing my eyes as it burns the back of my throat.

  I turn to face the crowded humid room, giving Lenic a covert glance. West notices and concern scrawls into his features. "Tell me you’re not here with him."

  “I can happily tell you that I am not.”

  West wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me in towards him, casting a smug glance over at Lenic. I watch Lenic grit his teeth, grind his jaw. I know how it is between alpha male types — men looking to spill blood, and it is all so nasty and depraved.

  "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I ask. “To piss him off.”

  "Of course. It's one of the main side benefits of being your closest friend."

  I contemplate all being fair in love and war, and all that, but I can't quite summon up the enthusiasm to go through with it.

  “West, don’t be an arse.” I push away from his hold, and notice Lenic getting distracted by an important-looking older man wearing an expensive suit, his fingers covered in thick gold rings. “It’s not fair on your date.”

  “My manager forced me to bring Zoey Upton as my date for good publicity. She’s more interested in her singing career and sucking off a controlling billionaire to marry — nice dress." West gives my outfit a once-over and I twirl on my heels. “Besides, I’d rather talk to you. You’re the prettiest and funniest girl here.”

  West orders me a glass of pink champagne and we take this opportunity to catch up. I start the conversation relaying my plans for a new line of underwear Delphine and I are going to manufacture and sell on our JUICED website. "I’m planning on sending you a bra for Christmas." I swirl the pink liquid around the bottom of my glass and take a sip.

  "Why would I need a bra?"

  West hasn’t dated anyone since his girlfriend passed away a couple of years ago. I met her only once at one of his boxing matches, but she was super shy, and I never had a chance to meet her again. It broke his heart. I think she was the love of his life. Ever since her death, he hasn’t allowed himself to find love again.

  "Future girlfriend?"

  "Don’t start," he warns, giving me a gentle smile, but I catch a flicker of melancholy in his eyes.

  “Delphine has designed some brilliantly creative pieces too. She’s both beautiful and talented, don’t you agree?” I would be the happiest girl alive if he married Delphine.

  Team West? Maybe.

  “Don’t try and set me up with her. I’ll never be able to give her what she deserves and you’ll never forgive me.” I turn to lean my back on the bar, soaking up the atmosphere when West starts to laugh. “Maybe you ought to design better dresses first. There’s a rip in your dress, Flick.”

  “No.” I search my dress frantically and curse under my breath. There is a large tear down the left side, and I am flashing side boob to all of the guests.

  In a world that is full of hyper-masculinity and alpha dogs, I’ve made myself a target with a bullseye on the side of my dress. A stocky older man with a thick beard coughs throatily, noticing it. He winks at me and asks, “Want a spin on the dance floor, sweetheart? Or would you like to go somewhere private so we can … talk?”

  I blink and shoot him down. Immediately. “Keep dreaming, sweetheart.” I start to wonder what it is about me that can elicit such a strong viewpoint that I’m a gold digger.

  I hear West snigger and I glare up at him when his laughter gets louder. I grab his arm, dragging him into one of the corridors leading off from the arena. I turn the handle of the nearest door and pull West inside and shut it, muffling the base of the music and the cheering crowd. Whirling around to make sure we are alone, I realise we are in someone’s luxury office.

  Luckily, I always carry emergency safety pins in my bag. I rush over to the far side, behind the desk, and pull down my dress so I can reach the inside and temporarily fix the tear. I instruct West to keep a watchful eye.

  “Ouch,” I hiss, wincing when I prick myself on the safety pin.

  “Here, let me.” West's face doesn’t alter in expression as he bats my hand away, snatches the pin from my grip, and takes over.

  Five seconds later, thumping music pierces the air once more, and the sound of a throat being cleared draws our attention to the doorway of the office. "You gonna clue me in to what the hell you’re doing with him in here?" The voice is black, hard.

  I turn to see Lenic leaning against the doorjamb, eyeing us both narrowly with barely suppressed anger. There is none of the soldierly calm, no mask, no bullshit. To anyone else, they wouldn’t see anything but anger in his stormy eyes, but I do. I see confusion and another emotion that flits across his face briefly.

  “I…” My voice is hesitant, and for the first time tonight I feel my confidence slip. "OK, this isn’t what it looks like. I’m just showing West how handy a safety pin is."

  "Yeah, I know how much you like to show things,” he says gruffly. “Offices are just as entertaining as the Internet."

  "Flick,” West speaks up, “this guy giving you problems?"

  Lenic's eyes fill with scorn as he addresses West. "That’s rich coming from you."

  I can feel West bristle beside me as tension crackles in the air. "It doesn't sound like Felicity thinks there is much to talk about with you. So unless you had something specific that you needed, mate—"

  “I’m not your mate.” Lenic glowers
at West before turning his stony glare back on me. "You know, Cross is just outside."

  "Sorry, what did you just say?" I meet his accusing gaze with a furious one of my own. I can’t decide if I am more angry or stumped at this point. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why does Cross have anything to do with what I’m doing?”

  Lenic slams the door shut behind him. Imposing and powerful, he moves on me fast. At the sight of him, I feel trepidation bubble inside of me. Though I am sure West can hold his own, it is no secret that The Tempest is considered an unrelenting animal in the ring.

  "Usually when you bring someone to a party as your date, you don't expect them to sneak off into a private room and let other guests strip them.” I glance at Lenic, completely shocked.

  Then I start to laugh.

  The Tempest is masking his overt jealousy by defending his friend’s honour — if Cross has any to begin with.

  "You thought I was here as Cross’ date date? Lenic, just how much did you drink last night?"

  Lenic’s jaw ticks under a paper-thin control. "He said you were his date."

  "He told you I was his date? Cross didn't tell you the truth?"

  Lenic advances closer, his eyebrows drawing down. "Answer the question."

  I sigh. "Delphine is unwell so I took her place. Cross persuaded me to come instead by telling me there would be several members of the WBC federation board coming tonight, and that I should come and try to coax them into becoming sponsors for the Youths At Risk charity."

  Lenic glances at me, seemingly making a mental note to eviscerate his friend later. "You're not on a date with Cross?"

  "No. And that will never ever happen."

  Lenic’s posture relaxes. Fractionally. And then his hostile eyes fix on West. "What about him?"

  “What about me?” West spits. They’re practically standing nose-to-nose with one another.

  "West … don’t," I warn, turning and laying a hand on West's arm, feeling it tense beneath my fingers. I glance up at him. "Do you mind if you leave me and Lenic alone? I think we need to discuss a few things in private."

  “When Hell freezes over I will,” West answers, taking a protective stance in front of me. “I’m not letting you anywhere near her.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.” Lenic’s gaze meets and holds mine.

  “What question?” I ask.

  “You with this guy?”

  West and I both answer at the same time without a moment's hesitation. But my answer of no is a contradiction to his yes.

  Lenic towers over West, cold aggression pumping off of him “The woman said no—”

  “Back. Off,” West grits out through clenched teeth.

  Despite seeing the stern set of Lenic’s jaw, the angry flash in his eyes, it doesn't scare me, and I slip between them. Lenic immediately jumps back, shifting his gaze down to me. “If you’re with this guy — you should know not to trust him.”

  “For Christ’s sakes, just stop it, both of you.” The two giant men in the room look stunned as I rebuke them. “You have both warned me about the other, but you’re keeping me in the dark. Tell me what’s going on.” My voice is even but firm, just like my gaze.

  I wait, growing increasingly irritated with their mutual silence, my feeling of frustration intensifying. It is like dancing with phantoms.

  When they go back to staring daggers at one another, I tell them, “I’m leaving for the bar.” I am done with their secretive feud. I am at an exclusive VIP event, and I’m damn well going to party until I drop. “If you two are in some secret love-hate affair, you’ve got the whole office to yourselves. Take my advice — make love on the desk and get it over with, already.” They both shoot me a look. “I’m done with the both of you.”

  When I begin to cross the room, Lenic calls out, “Wait, hear me out first. There’s something I wanted to put to you.”

  I don’t want to stop — I want to keep going and find the dance floor — but I can’t help it. It is that kind of voice. Commanding. Hypnotising.

  I halt. Pause. Then turn around. “If I win the charity match next weekend,” Lenic starts, “you go on a date with me.”

  I give him a blank look, taking care not to exult like a vain feeble fan-girl, but it is a contrast to the happy dance I am doing inside. “You’re egotistically sure of yourself.”

  “Not egotistic. Thinking you’re better than everyone else is egotistic. Being the best you can be is confidence and that’s who I am — get used to it. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

  I feel my mouth go dry. There is no other man like Lenic. “Do you expect your offer to meet with grateful approval?”

  “Not from you, no. Wouldn’t want it any other way. And it’s not just any date. I’ll take you out to sea on my boat. Just you and me.” Looking directly at me, it seems as though every hot heady moment of our alleyway meet-up is ingrained into his heated gaze. “No escape.”

  It is suddenly very hard to swallow, but somehow I manage and school in my features, despite the tension building in my stomach.

  ‘No escape?’ But who in their right mind would want to escape paradise?

  “Is this your way to get me to come see you fight?” I ask casually. At least, I hope I sound casual.

  His face curves into a delicious grin. “Yeah.”

  “I could stand at the front and scream your name and throw my underwear at you. What do you reckon? Would you like that?”

  “As long as you don't wash them.”

  “The hell she will,” West snarls. “Back off, Reevus — you’re full of it.”

  They are like two rabid dogs and I am the bone. It wouldn’t surprise me if they start thumping their chests and roaring up at the moon to show their dominance.

  "Don’t agree to this, Flick. You're not gonna be a part of his twisted games.” West gives me that brotherly sort of look that says he is not going to let me out.

  Lenic ignores West, looking at me expectantly. He breaks into a slight grin, and his eyes look like a mask, one that is hiding a deeper motivation. “I said I’d fight for a second chance with you,” he reminds me, simply and firmly, holding out his huge skilful hand — the very hand that drilled into me. I eye it speculatively, but then feel my cheeks grow warm as his gaze holds mine long enough to send a shiver straight down to the butterflies in my stomach, and set them fluttering. And when he licks his tongue slowly across his bottom lip … that one look … makes dust out of me.

  I realise I am getting hooked by his bait.

  He is a tempter, a man who can’t be denied.

  “You’re on.” I take Lenic’s hand, watching with a certain degree of amusement as my hand disappears entirely into his. “If you win.”

  “I always win,” Lenic says cocksure, and then turns his attention to West. “You’d better remember that when we go head-to-head.”

  “This doesn't mean anything," I add, knocking down Lenic’s ego — ‘confidence’.

  "Sure…" Lenic replies, that big boyish smile on his face making it crystal clear he believes otherwise.

  “If you lose—”

  “Never gonna happen.”

  “If you lose,” I reiterate, “you star in yet another video for my channel.” I give him a secretive sort of smile that makes him give me a suspicious once-over.

  “What you got planned?”

  “Don’t lose and you’ll never have to find out. But you should know … it will test how far you are willing to stretch your dignity.”

  He shakes his head. Sniffs. “You’re worth it.”

  “The hell you think you're doing?" West’s venomous stare locks on to me. "You're not going through with this shit,” he announces, as if it is already a done deal. He is ever the protective brother. “Flick, I mean it, just trust me on this one.”

  There is still time to back out, time to tell Lenic to take a hike, and end whatever we have here. But there is something about Lenic’s eyes that root me to the spot. They tell me everything I need to k
now about what’s circling in his head, like bloodthirsty sharks.

  He has shifted the water from being cold to hot.

  He is going to chase the heart of the girl of his dreams.

  And his big boat … is coming for me.

  Someone throws open the door, breaking my eye contact with Lenic. Cross enters the office. His brow shoots up when his gaze lands on my dress that is set halfway down to my waist, drinking in the way Lenic and West are standing so very close to me. I watch as Cross’ puzzled expression morphs into an eager one.

  “Good God, Lenic. First you have an MFF ménage. Now you’re onto an MFM.” He grins devilishly. “Mate, you’re my spirit animal.”

  12

  “THAT DRESS TELLS ME ALL I NEED TO KNOW.”

  LENIC

  “THAT IS SOME dress,” Delphine shouts above the roar of the crowd, giving my cleavage a sceptical look.

  I’m wearing my rendition of a Jessica Rabbit dress. Bright red and cut up to … well, all the way up to a point that makes it pretty damn clear there is no chance of any underwear underneath it. The dress is a light bulb in the dark arena, but the only man who can turn me on is the one we are all waiting for.

  It is the night of the boxing charity event being held in Queens Oak, and the whole arena is jam-packed, a seething mass of noise and sweat. There are several fights scheduled tonight between various famous boxers, including West “War Dog” Hurst, who won his match in the first fight, with The Tempest set to be on stage next.

  I notice women uncharacteristically dominate the crowd tonight. It isn’t hard to figure out why. They are here for one reason only. To see The Tempest fight. To see The Tempest topless. And probably not in that order either.

  My skin crawls when a young guy — with hipster sideburns and patchy blonde stubble — stands next to me. He sweeps his eyes across my cleavage, licking his lips shamelessly. This dress is like putting a pound coin in a Grab-a-Pervert vending machine.

  Oh God ... Seventies Sideburns. Yes, you check me out because it is never ever going to happen.

  He winks at me and I laugh. I don’t do it in a flirtatious manner. I am laughing at him. But he believes otherwise and starts behaving like he has pulled. A girl just has to smile at a guy these days and they think we want to sleep with them.