Another reason why he needed to contact Pierce – to appease their always-sensible third member.
Tristan huffed, hitting the button to send a message to Pierce:
- We need to talk.
It wasn’t a call but it was better than nothing; he hit the send button and closed the message. Pierce wouldn’t respond right away – not his style.
He picked up the Hamilton tickets sitting on the kitchen counter in front of him; Donna had dropped them off earlier. He didn’t know how she did it, but that woman worked wonders. He tapped the edges of them against the granite, picturing what Ellie’s face would be when he told her their plans for the evening and smiled.
A Broadway show wasn’t the only new experience she was going to have tonight either, not if he had anything to say about it.
Walking into his bedroom, he put on his tie and suit jacket, expecting Ellie any minute now. He didn’t care what happened yesterday, nothing and no one was going to interrupt him tonight; his pants tightened at the thought.
Christ, he needed to calm down.
That shower did nothing for him yesterday except make him want her more.
The minutes ticked by. She was usually early. Immediately, his brain began to doubt.
What if she wasn’t coming? What if he talked to her too soon, that she got home and realized that he was crazy, that this whole process was crazy, and that she was done with him? What if he never saw her again?
The faint knock at his door immediately and fortunately silenced his fears before he had time to even process what the answer to that question would be. Her presence, even outside his apartment, put his senses on high alert, his body feeling even before his eyes saw who was at the door. He quickly glanced at himself in the mirror because he now apparently cared about his appearance, and then headed to the front door, towards the only person he’d ever felt the desire to impress.
“Ellie,” he greeted her with an appreciative smile, her name rolling seductively off his tongue. His eyes took in the sight of her. Somehow, each time he saw her, she became even more enticing, her hair more vibrant, the passionate hue flickering in the light, begging to be seen against the stark contrast of her incredibly pale skin. He watched her eyes flare and the small shudder that moved through her, her name on his lips just as effective as if he had physically caressed her.
“Hi,” she replied, a hint of breathlessness in her voice before her eyes shadowed when she caught sight of his still rearranged living room in the background.
Tristan silently cursed himself; he knew he should have moved the furniture back, that not doing so ran the risk of reminding her what had happened yesterday. There was nothing that he could do about it now though, except to make amends and make her his.
“Come in,” he said gently, trying to allay the worry that was now present in her eyes, “we have a few minutes before we have to leave.”
Tonight, she wore a silk black slip of a dress, her arms covered by a gray blazer that reached her wrists. After yesterday, he noticed her sleeves and he remembered every time he’d seen her in before – her clothes covered the expanse of her arms. Now, the signs that he’d missed, something so insignificant, stood in front of him like a mountain; its dark shadow looming over him.
“Would you like something to drink?” he offered, watching as she hesitantly walked towards the empty easel that was still standing in the middle of his floor.
“I’ll take a glass of wine,” came her distant response.
Tristan stopped in his tracks. “Wine?” he questioned, sure that he must have heard her wrong.
“Surprise,” her voice gliding over her shoulder as she looked at him with a smile, “you’re not the only one who’s allowed to have surprises, are you?”
“Maybe,” he replied, wondering what had brought this on.
“Well, it wasn’t in the contract, so you can’t enforce it,” she taunted, “I did read it, you know.” He couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped in response to her sassy reply.
God, she was so unpredictable.
“Very true, it wasn’t,” he began, deviously, “however, I will enforce whatever I want on that smart mouth of yours if you keep it up.” That got her attention; her head darting around, mouth parted, to meet his molten gaze. He replied with a seductive smile as he poured her a modest glass of chardonnay.
“So, tell me, why the wine?” he asked, really wanting to know what went through that fiery head of hers.
“I don’t want you to think that I’m predictable,” she replied with an attempt at nonchalance.
Her answer stunned him. Again, prepared for some sort of tart response back from her, Tristan was shocked at the depth behind her words. She’d feigned casualness in her response as if it were no big deal, but that was far from the truth that was written in her eyes. Reflected in the green depths was her truth, that she was boring and mundane, lacking any element of surprise, lacking any reason for interest.
All his previous thoughts and responses were forgotten, seared away by the burning desire to make her see that she was nowhere near the person that she thought she was, the person that she resented.
He handed her the wine glass, mute for a second while his brain continued to struggle processing how it was humanly possible for her to see herself in such a poor light?
How could she be so blind?
“Ellie,” he began hoarsely, watching her take her first sip boldly from the glass, “I’ve made my business, I’ve made my life on my ability to predict the market and let me tell you, you are as far from predictable as any stock that I’ve ever encountered; hell, you are the riskiest investment that I’ve ever made.”
Ellie’s lips slowly left the wine glass, in awe and enthralled by his statement and the depth of emotion that it conveyed. She swallowed the wine over the lump in her throat, her mouth immediately dry as it parted for air. She felt her heart thumping in her chest as she ever-so-slightly swayed towards him.
Tristan lost himself in the mossy depths of her eyes; he’d come over here to bring her the glass of wine, knowing exactly what he wanted to say next to bring up the Hamilton tickets, and then she’d gone and been predictably unpredictable. He didn’t know where the words had come from, but that didn’t make them any less true.
He’d invested in her as a sure thing – a guaranteed way to get his mom’s portrait back; he, of all people, should have known that nothing and no one is a sure thing. This ‘sure thing’ had turned into the biggest gamble of his life – not just with his mom’s portrait, or the Guild, but with his heart.
Their breaths mingled as Tristan slowly closed the distance between their lips, his brushing hers ever so gently when his phone began to buzz from the kitchen.
His alarm.
“Shit,” he whispered against her achingly sweet mouth, beyond tempted to say ‘fuck it’ to Hamilton and the thousands of dollars the tickets had probably cost him.
But he couldn’t.
No, the prospect of seeing Ellie’s surprised face when she learned where he was taking her was a temptation that he couldn’t resist.
Groaning softly, he stepped back from her, walking into the kitchen to stop the obnoxious alarm reminding him that it was time to leave so that they wouldn’t be late.
“We have to get going. Trust me, you don’t want to be late,” he said with a devilish grin. When he turned, she was watching him intently, and he knew that she was recalling yesterday again, another time when their kiss had been cruelly interrupted.
She nodded slowly, with a small, forced smile, and Tristan thought that she was going to let it go. “Is your friend ok?” Ellie asked, not wanting to ruin the moment, but unable to stop herself
Predictable my ass, Tristan thought.
“Yeah, he’s fine. He’s learned that calling before just showing up at someone’s house is the respectable norm,” he replied with a touch of humorous sarcasm, as he walked to open the front door for Ellie, “there’s a car waiting for us downstairs.
” Ellie walked towards him, but stopped short before leaving the apartment.
“Did you really punch someone?” she whispered, looking up at him with her enquiring emerald eyes.
His jaw flexed. He didn’t want to have this discussion now – or ever. He never wanted Pierce to touch her life, she was too vibrant, too light; Pierce had dark demons that even he struggled to control.
“I did,” he bit out through clenched teeth.
She could tell he didn’t want to elaborate, but something inside her made her push forward. “Was it because of me?”
There. She’d said it.
Tristan’s eyes went wide; he knew she was going to ask why, but he’d hoped she hadn’t put two and two together from what Sloane had let slip yesterday. It didn’t surprise him that she did, it surprised him that instead of just asking why, she had the courage to ask what she was really thinking.
Predictable my ass.
“It was because he deserved it,” Tristan responded, placing his hand on her lower back with a gentle pressure to guide her out the door, the heat of her skin stimulating the barest contact of his fingertips.
His tone implied that that was all he planned on saying about it, and Ellie decided that she’d been courageous enough for the moment, acquiescing to the electrifying touch of his fingers and walking out towards the elevator.
“So, what’s this surprise? Are you taking me to Ireland?” she joked, bringing back a lighter mood to their conversation.
“Ahh…well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” he began with a smirk, “but, it’s not Ireland, I will tell you that much.”
“Oh, darn. I’m not sure I want to go now,” she teased.
“Oh really, Miss Carter? I promise it will be worth it,” he whispered close to her ear as his hand traced lazy circles on her lower back, drifting tantalizingly to the edge of her thong that would be easily felt through the thin fabric of the dress.
Tristan smiled with satisfaction at her quick intake of breath. His hand grazed down the enticing swell of her ass letting it fall to his side as the elevator came to a stop. “We could do Ireland next weekend, if you want,” he concluded, all playfulness leaving his voice, deadly serious about his offer.
He would show her the world, if she just asked.
Ellie stared back into Tristan’s gilded eyes; there was no mistaking the seriousness of his offer nor her desire to take him up on it.
Next weekend. Ellie winced at the reminder. Thankfully, the elevator doors opened and Tristan’s focus was forced elsewhere before he could notice.
They walked out into the afternoon sun, a beautifully brisk afternoon in the city. Tristan guided her to the black car that was waiting for them at the curb, the driver exiting to come around and open the door for them. Tristan helped her in first, giving direction to the driver quietly once he was certain that Ellie couldn’t hear him.
“So, are you going to tell me now?” she asked when he joined her inside the car.
“And ruin it? No, I’m going to show you,” he said, reaching into his coat pocket, “but, only when we get there.”
When he opened his hand, Ellie saw he was holding a black silk tie and for a moment, she didn’t realize its significance. He unraveled it just as the car began to move, holding it up to her eye level. Tristan saw the spark of recognition when she realized that he meant to blindfold her until they arrived at their destination. Her mouth formed a small ‘oh’ in response before she swallowed and slowly turned her head around so that he could secure the soft silk over her eyes.
“Is it ok?” he asked, gently tying the fabric in a knot behind her head.
“I’ll let you know when we get there,” she replied, unable to keep the slight waver of uncertainty from her voice.
“Do you not like surprises?”
“Does anyone?” she laughed nervously. “I don’t know, I guess if they are good surprises, then yes, I like them.”
Unfortunately, most of the surprises in her life had not been good ones. After so many let downs, ‘surprise’ becomes synonymous with certain calamity and the expected response of excitement becomes conditioned caution.
“Interesting,” Tristan replied, thoughtfully.
She could feel his gaze on her, even though she couldn’t see it. Tristan, on the other hand, partially regretted covering her eyes now that he couldn’t see them to judge her response. Her answer was hesitant and he wanted to know why.
“Well, this is a good one, I promise,” he reassured her as the car pulled around the corner, the Richard Rogers theatre a few feet in front of them.
“Then I’m sure I’ll like it,” she said with a smile, “I trust you.”
Tristan’s eyes dropped to the floor at those last three words, the surge of pride and satisfaction that he had felt quickly drowned out by the guilt that came with knowing the truth.
She shouldn’t trust him; if she only knew why she was here and what he planned to do to her.
The car came to a stop and he pushed those feelings back down inside of him, now wasn’t the time to wrestle with them. No, today was about Ellie, about giving her another piece of the life she desired, showing her that she deserved all of it and more.
Tomorrow he would worry about reconciling who he was with who she thought him to be.
“We’re here,” he whispered conspiratorially into her ear, kissing the corner of her jaw before he pulled away. The car door opened and Ellie felt the rush of cool air enter the car, she heard the bustle of people walking and talking outside the door. Finally, the excitement hit her; for the first time, she felt comfortable with a surprise, confident that it was one that would make her happy.
Confident that Tristan would make her happy.
Tristan helped her out of the car, the tie still covering her eyes. Her cheeks began to flush wondering if there were people staring at her, blindfolded, in the middle of the sidewalk somewhere in New York City.
“It’s ok,” he whispered again to her, reaching down to squeeze her hand.
She sensed him move to stand in front of her. He placed both hands on her hips, pulling her against the hard hotness of his body.
“Ready?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed, a laugh erupting from her lips, worry finally leaving her face. She felt his body shake with laughter as his hands reached up and around to the back of her head to loosen the knot. She felt the tie give way as he stepped to the side so not to block her view taking the tie with him; her vision was free.
Opening her eyes, she saw they were standing in front of doors to a theater; doors that were plastered with show posters all over them. She stared, confused for a second, before she realized that all of the posters were for one show only.
Hamilton.
Tristan watched in wonder as understanding dawned on her face. The way her eyebrows slowly unfurled from confusion and raised in disbelief; her hand coming up to cover her mouth in shock as her gaze turned his.
It was like watching the sunset from his apartment windows - every night, the same skyline, the same setting sun, and yet somehow, he was always in awe as if he were seeing its beauty for the first time; watching every emotion play over her face was like watching those sunsets - he would never cease to be inspired by them.
“Hamilton?” she squeaked out, staring at him, eyes wide.
“Yes,” he confirmed, a giant smile of success breaking over his face, “your first Broadway show, I figured it should be a memorable one.”
“Oh my God, Tristan…” she said breathlessly, looking back at the doors, watching as they opened and closed, letting other guests inside. Ellie felt a tear slip down her cheek; tears generally accompanied surprises for her, just not usually tears of happiness.
He was trying to make up for what had happened yesterday, but she’d never expected this – the thoughtfulness and the effort and expense.
What had he even had to pay to get these and on such short notice?! It must have been a small fortune…
&nb
sp; All to give her a new experience, something that she’s always wanted; all to make her happy. She closed the distance between them, looking up at Tristan with tear-glazed eyes and whispered, “thank you,” just as her lips reached up to kiss his.
She hadn’t thought, hadn’t wondered if it would be ok, she forgot they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, surrounded by strangers passing by; she hadn’t considered if the public nature of her display of affection was ok, and she didn’t care.
Neither did he.
Still in awe of the joy that he’d brought to her face, Tristan could only stare helplessly as Ellie grabbed his face and softly touched her lips to his; the shock of the contact breaking his trance. He groaned, his hands coming to her hips and pulling her firmly against him. She had started this, but Tristan quickly took control.
Or his desire for her did.
Slanting his mouth over hers, he deepened the kiss, needing to taste her. This time, the salty sweetness of her tears fueled his arousal, knowing that they were tears of happiness. His erection strained against his fitted suit, the thin material of her dress doing nothing to shield her from feeling the hard length pressing into her stomach. Ellie moaned into the kiss, falling deeper into its spell.
“Get a room!” a stranger jokingly yelled, maneuvering around them on the sidewalk.
The moment broken, Ellie pulled back from the kiss, biting her lip trying to hold in a laugh. Tristan took chuckled as he looked down the street, trying to figure out who it was that said something. He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers one more time before stepping back and putting a good six inches between their desire for each other.
“Sorry,” Ellie said sheepishly, still chewing slightly on her lower lip.
“Don’t be,” Tristan replied, his tone deadly serious, “don’t ever be.” The blush in her cheeks deepened at the intensity of his words. “We should probably head in,” he said, reaching his hand out to her, “I have to admit though I think I enjoyed the show out here more than the one we are about to walk in and see.”
The Artist's Touch (The Gentlemen's Guild Book 1) Page 19