Shuffle (Ruby Riot #2)

by Lisa Swallow

  “Me too.”

  Shaun’s the perfect dinner date. Polite and interested in what I have to say, and we chatted about more than work tonight. He told stories of his time as a student, and listened to mine. We chatted about and planned an evening at the Royal Shakespeare production happening next month, and compared our favourite plays. This guy didn’t behave like a kid; he never picked vegetables out of his meal the way Nate did out of his sandwich or made loud, stupid comments.

  Why am I giving time to thinking about the guy who makes a career out of humiliating me?

  “I wondered, do you want to come back to mine? Seems too early to end the evening.” When I don’t reply he adds, “Or we could watch a movie. No pressure.”

  Act cool.

  “Sure, just for a little while. You can introduce me to your cat.”

  Shaun’s place is central to Greenwich, amongst the listed Georgian houses and close to a park. Close to the bus stop, people spill out of a house with the thud of music beating through the open doorway. A small group sit on the low walls outside the large house and I don’t look over.

  “They’re a pain in the arse at that house,” Shaun remarks as we approach his. “Imagine living a couple of doors down from that every night.”

  “Every night?”

  “Well, several times a week. This looks like a big one though.” He sighs as he pushes open the heavy door to his building. Narrow stairs lead upwards and he picks a couple of letters from the tiled floor. “Mine’s at the top.”

  “How many flats are here?”

  “Four. Mine isn’t exactly penthouse; but at least, I have my own place and don’t need to share.”

  “Apart from with your cat.”

  “Apart from my cat.”

  The black cat runs toward me when we walk through the door and rubs against my legs. “Oh! She’s beautiful.”

  “He. Yes.” Shaun picks up his cat and I stroke his head.

  “What’s he called?”

  “Ravenclaw.”

  I laugh. “Clever. I take it you’re a Harry Potter fan.”

  Shaun smiles. “A little.”

  The lounge room and kitchen are one room in Shaun’s open plan flat, a sofa and TV at one end and a massive bookshelf dominating the wall opposite. A doorway leads to a bedroom, one I won’t be visiting tonight. “Wine?”

  “Sure. I’ll have another glass of white.”

  We shared a bottle at the restaurant and the light-headedness is pleasant, better than how my last night out drinking ended.

  “Take a seat.” Shaun gestures at the sofa and wanders to the kitchen. Two glasses clink onto the kitchen counter and Shaun pours us wine.

  From my spot amongst the cushions on his sofa, I take in my surroundings. Fine art prints cover the walls and the place is neat and clean; a far cry from the places most of my male friends share.

  My kind of night, my kind of guy.

  ****

  WILL

  A girl sits on my lap, tongue and mouth all over my face and neck, but I hardly react. Nate brought us to a party way too big for the size of the house; and fed up of being crushed, I moved to the wall outside. One chick with long brown hair has decided she’s my girl for tonight and half-interested, I let her close.

  The reason for my distraction walks past and my chest tightens. Fleur. Just my bloody luck that she’s coming to the party too. She’s with the guy from the other day; I guess they’re an item then. Fleur doesn’t notice me in the dusk and they don’t stop.

  Another girl nearby groans as she watches him pass. “Mr. Sleaze has his next victim.” She points with her bottle at Fleur’s guy.

  “What do you mean victim?”

  “You know. Like you and your brother. A girl for the night.”

  Her friend nudges her. “Yeah, but we know the score if we spend the night with a Campbell.”

  I stop listening. Fleur isn’t the type of girl for one-night hook ups. Is she?

  “The dude has a few girls then?”

  “Oh yeah, never the same one twice.”

  A bit like me. Guess I’m being a hypocrite by judging.

  “Surprised it’s her though. That’s Flora, isn’t it?” asks one of the girl.

  “Fleur,” I say.

  “I wonder if she knows about his reputation?”

  “Obviously not.” They giggle again. “I guess she’s about to find out.”

  Never before has this happened, but my muscles stiffen and my head pounds with disgust at somebody using a girl. Hypocrite. Total fucking hypocrite. But this is Fleur. My Fleur. I blink. I mean, could be my Fleur. The chick on my lap? She knows the score. Fleur’s walking into some clever douche’s trap.

  Would she screw him? I have no idea and push away the images. What if she doesn’t know what he’s like and he pushes her into something?

  I’m not moving from this spot until Fleur comes back out of his place, I need to know if she’s okay.

  I just bloody hope it isn’t 6 a.m. when she does.

  ****

  FLEUR

  Intelligent conversation with a charming guy is something I’ve craved. Shaun is exactly what I expected and relaxing with him is easy. He’s funny; and as time passes, his random touches of my hands and arm progress to stroking hair from my face and lingering fingers on my cheek. His warm thigh rests against mine; the subtle scent and heat from his closeness maintain the constant butterfly sensation swirling around my body and filling my chest. All I want is to kiss him before the evening ends.

  He’s telling me a story but I’m not listening, captivated by the intense green of his eyes and debating whether I could make the first move. The signals are there and clear.

  Shaun pauses in his story. “I’m boring you, aren’t I? You’re glazing over.”

  “No, not at all.”

  As Shaun shifts closer, the atmosphere in the room shifts too. He touches my lips with soft fingers. “Is it wrong I want to kiss you?”

  My pulse rate hikes. “I was wondering the same thing.”

  In response, Shaun’s mouth touches mine, and he doesn’t hold back. I’m drawn into a sudden, hard kiss, where he holds my head and I can’t move. I part my mouth and his tongue invades, capturing mine. The desire building all evening explodes into arousal as an aching heat begins. Man, this guy can kiss.

  I pull my mouth away and suck in a breath, dizzied by the sudden intensity, and Shaun immediately switches to my neck, one hand sliding along my leg.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispers and pushes me against the arm of the sofa. His other hand moves from my waist, upwards, and he closes his fingers around one of my breasts.

  Whoa.

  I don’t know which hand to catch first: the one squeezing my breast or the one sneaking higher up my thigh. My inner thigh.

  “Shaun,” I say, annoyed that my breathlessness could be misinterpreted. “Slow down.”

  His breath comes hot and heavy against my ear as he presses me harder against the sofa, his solid body heavy against mine. “You’re beautiful, Fleur. I want you and I think you want me.”

  I freeze at the cliché lines, and the teasing kisses along my collarbone no longer arouse me. “Shaun!”

  His mouth crashes on mine again and he doesn’t understand that the noise I make means stop. His hot and hungry kiss continues and he slides a hand to my ass, pulling me against his obvious arousal. I grab Shaun’s head and pull his face away.

  “Stop. I don’t want this!”

  Shaun stills his hand and stares down at me, dark eyes filled with lust, and I’m unable to move. Not only because of his weight, but because I don’t know what to do. I’m coiled, ready to fight back in case the situation takes a dangerous turn.

  Please let him stop. He wouldn’t push this. He can’t.

  A muscle in his cheek twitches and Shaun sits back.

  Relieved, I wriggle away and adjust where the top of my dress has slipped.

  “Why not?” he asks, stroking a strand of hai
r from my face.

  “This isn’t me. I don’t… do this.”

  He cups my cheek in his hand. “Did I come on too strong? I’m sorry.” The soft look is back in Shaun’s eyes. “I’ve fought to keep my hands off you all night. The way you flirted, how you looked at me.” He strokes my cheek. “I thought you wanted the same.”

  When his mouth brushes mine again, I pull my head back. “I am attracted to you, but I don’t jump into things like this. Not on a first date.”

  “Not even with me?” Shaun whispers, sliding a hand around my back to pull me close. “I promise you’ll enjoy yourself.”

  I place a hand on his chest, no longer interested in discovering what lies beneath his shirt. “I think we have mismatched ideas about sex.”

  Shaun drags a hand through his short curls and sits back. “You’re saying no?”

  “I am.”

  “Right.” The lamp on the table next to us casts a soft glow across the room and his eyes shine in the dim. “Girls don’t usually say no.”

  My scalp prickles at his comment. I need to leave because I have no idea what he’s capable of. What if Shaun is one of those guys who don’t understand no means no? Thinks I’m playing hard to get? I stand and brush my dress down with trembling hands. “Thanks for this evening. Maybe we’d better leave things there.”

  Shaun’s demeanour shifts from easygoing to a look of disgust. “I’m not about to force myself on you, Fleur, but I am surprised.”

  “Why surprised?”

  Running his tongue along his teeth, Shaun sweeps a gaze along the length of my body. “I don’t think you should piss me off.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have influence in the history department.”

  His words confuse for a moment until they sharpen into startling clarity. “What? Are you blackmailing me into changing my mind? You can’t influence anything to do with my studies.”

  “If you say so. I guess you’ll find out.”

  My thumping heart speeds again and I’m disgusted at how my body yielded to him. Good thing common sense prevailed over the lust. “Wow. I totally misjudged you.”

  “And I misjudged you.” He stands. “Girls like you piss me off.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You expect a guy to pay for everything, do the whole romance crap, then not repay him,” he says in a low voice.

  I blink. Not only is his language sometimes archaic, but his values are too. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

  I step back as he approaches and when he touches my face again, I recoil. My dream guy is a nightmare. “A definite no, then?”

  Fighting down the fear, I grab my handbag with shaking hands and head towards his door. I can’t speak and let him hear how panicked I am. Shaun doesn’t follow me through and I don’t look back. I trip down the dimly lit stairs two at a time and burst through the building’s heavy front door into the cool air.

  ****

  WILL

  A figure appears from the house two doors down and I squint through the darkness. The orange streetlight catches the girl’s blonde hair as she hurries along the path in my direction.

  Fleur.

  I’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to see her leave his place. An hour at least, judging by the number of empty beer bottles lined up beside me on the low wall. The chick from earlier disappeared inside a while ago, complaining she was cold, but alcohol and a leather jacket keep me warm as I wait. Music and voices carry from inside. Nate is in the midst of the crowd somewhere. I’m alone, unusual situation for me at a party. I struggled with whether to go back inside and forget about her, but I have to know Fleur is okay.

  Fleur’s halfway to running as she approaches and I stiffen. Has something happened? The bus stop is a few hundred metres from the house and her sights are fixed on there.

  “Hey, Fleur,” I call out and she stops, twisting her head in my direction. “You okay?”

  She pauses and steps closer. “Nate? Are you?” she asks.

  “Am I what?”

  “Which twin are you?”

  “Which one do you want me to be?” I reply, echoing the words, which annoy her.

  “Nate.”

  “You want me to be Nate?”

  “No, you’re obviously him because I’ve heard that line before.”

  “Want to join the party?” I lift up my beer.

  “No, thanks, I’m going home.” Her breath mists in the cool night, circling around her head.

  “How was your evening?” A man with a dog heads from the direction Fleur came from and she snaps her head around, moving closer to me when she hears the footsteps. “You sure you’re okay?”

  She pulls her cardigan closer around herself. “Tired.”

  Disappointment sinks into my stomach to join the beer swirling around. Tired after her physical exertions with Shaun? I can’t blame him, she’s fucking sexy in that dress, skimming her knees and moulding around her curves.

  Has that douche had his mouth hers? Or on any other part of Fleur?

  Shit, stop thinking about her naked.

  “He didn’t kick you out straight after, did he?” I ask.

  “No! And since when is what I do your business?”

  Whoa. “Never mind. Just saw you and him, that’s all.” Fleur makes a derisive noise. “What?”

  “At least you were upfront about what you wanted from me after the gig the other night.” She draws a deep breath. “I can’t believe I was stupid to trust him, or believe he liked me. Bloody men.” I look away when she wraps her arms defensively around her chest.

  “What happened?”

  She ignores me and continues, “I thought guys who are charming and polite were decent people; when in reality, they’re the same as you.”

  “Same as me?”

  “Sleazy.”

  “Ouch. And I’m not sleazy, I sent you flowers.”

  “Yes. Why did you?”

  “To apologise for being sleazy.” I manage to elicit a small smile from Fleur. “And to thank you. I got seventy-two percent on my paper.”

  “Go you,” she mutters.

  “Hey, no, it was because of you. Thanks.” I pause and take a deep breath. “Shame I’m persona non grata these days.”

  Fleur stares. Then laughs. “You both know big words? Impressive. You really are the same. You and him.”

  Anger flares in my blood. “No. I’m not. I’m presuming from what you said he forced himself on you. I never do that. Ever.” I don’t need to; I have plenty of options, but best I don’t say that.

  “Yes, like I said, at least you were upfront about wanting to fuck me.” She spits the word fuck and confirms my fear. This guy touched Fleur. Tried to do things she didn’t want. I scan her clothes. How far did he go?

  “That wasn’t me,” I say.

  “Don’t tell me, you’re a different guy when you’re drunk?” she says and pulls a sarcastic face.

  “Ha. You have no idea.”

  Is now the time to tell her?

  “I’ve seen the pictures. You and your brother were quite the story a few months back.” She chews a nail. “I still hear stories about you.”

  “Both of us?”

  “Mostly you, Nate. You must have better moves than your brother.”

  I laugh. Loudly. “I thought you hated him?”

  “That’s a strong word. I dislike you both.”

  I take a bottle from the wall next to me. Empty. Picking at the label, I mentally bang my head against the wall over the whole fucking ‘being Nate’ situation. Fleur hovers close and rubs her arms. Is she that freaked out she’d rather spend time in the cold, talking to a guy she told to piss off the other day?

  “I take it from that comment it’s still a no to me coming back to the study group?” I ask. “I really need you; look at what your help did for me. I mean…seventy-two percent.”

  Fleur shakes her head and looks around at the sound of a bus approaching the nearby stop. “I hav
e to go.”

  As Fleur runs to catch the empty bus, I catch up and climb up the steps after her. When Fleur scans her Oyster card, she looks around in surprise. “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure you get home okay.”

  The bus lurches away and she catches hold of a nearby seat. “I’m capable. I don’t need carrying home like last time.”

  I grip a nearby seat too. “Must be my alpha protective streak, then.”

  Now we’re in the light, Fleur’s big pupils and pale face betray what’s beneath her bravado. “You don’t need to look after me.”

  “I know. I want to.”

  She sits and looks up at me, brow tugged. I want to ask her what happened. Punch the arsehole in the face. The anger rises at the idea somebody hurt her and my mind flashes with an image of what I’ll do if he has assaulted her. If he’s messed her up, I’ll reward him with the same.

  “You’re not coming into my house,” she says.

  “All good.” As I sit on the seat next to her, she scowls and shifts away from me. Fleur’s hands shake and she tucks them beneath her arms. “Am I making you nervous?”

  “No. It’s not you.”

  I swallow down the anger. “What did he do?”

  “Not as much as he wanted. Leave it.”

  “Did he…?”

  “No! Just shut up, Nate!”

  I hate Nate even more for his words about wanting to fuck her. Anything I say to Fleur now won’t wash, as far as she’s concerned my treatment of chicks matches Shaun’s. “Bloody men.”

  She scoffs. “Yeah. Bloody men.”

  Whatever happened between her and Shaun must be bad because Fleur hasn’t told me to piss off. If the guy she’s refused to talk to several days ago is allowed anywhere near her, something is wrong.

  Chapter Twenty

  FLEUR

  When I arrive for the study session on Monday, Nate sits on a table outside, lounging back as he focuses on his phone. I want to be pissed off with him, but his behaviour after the Shaun incident pushes at my barrier. Ironic that the guy I thought was a douche was more respectful than the so-called nice guy.

  This man confuses me. Which Nate is he? The one who wants to fuck me or the one who wants to hold my hand? His jacket is folded next to him and I gaze again at the tattoos. How much would that hurt?