Tramp (Hush Book 1)

by Mary Elizabeth

  “I’m not coming to the office.” His voice in both parts indifferent and firm. A woodsy skunk-like smell I recognize immediately blends with the ocean breeze, hugging my senses.

  Grand Haven’s royal boy smokes pot.

  The rebelliousness makes me smile.

  A cloud of dense white smoke billows around him when he says, “What implications? I’m not coming for the crown, Wilder. I don’t need to be there. It’s fucking midnight, and I’m not doing this tonight.”

  My eyes search the room for a clock, finding it on the microwave above the stove. Sure enough, it’s a few minutes after midnight. Who could possibly want to meet with him at this time of night is beyond me, but so are the inner workings of a lawyer with a clientele as great as Ridge & Sons. I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but I don’t waver either.

  “She’s here,” Talent admits. His voice takes a softer tone. “Thanks for the heads-up, but I don’t see an issue. If Giovanni has a fucking—”

  I take this opportunity to announce my presence and knock gently on the open door leading to the terrace. He’s talking to his brother, who’s made it evident that he doesn’t want me involved with Talent for the greater good of his younger brother and for the good of his family’s reputation.

  It’s too early to predict a future for Talent and me. It’s easy to imagine one when our bodies do the talking. When he’s inside of me, I can’t imagine a life that doesn’t involve him. It’s like I’ve waited my entire life for him to rouse me out of the semi-existence I’ve suffered through this long. But it’s not clear where we’d be headed under the influence of the outside world.

  Reality waits for us under the lust-fog that’s left us blissfully blind. We’re equals fourteen stories high, but we can’t hide away in the sky from our differences forever. On ground level, the truth is, I’m the highest paid whore in Grand Haven, and Talent Ridge is on his way to taking over the world.

  The world can have him back once the sun comes up.

  But I want him while we can still hide in the dark.

  Talent looks over his shoulder at me and exhales another cloud of smoke. “I have to go.”

  He ends the call and discards his phone on the chair beside him. I close the distance between us and hug him from behind, pressing my cheek against the back of his shoulder. His skin is warm, and he smells like sex and salt and contraband.

  “I like your shirt,” he says, tapping ash from his joint against the railing.

  “Took it from your closet,” I say. Unbuttoned, the shirt falls open and my bare stomach presses against the lowest part of his back. “I didn’t bring anything to change into, and the clothes I came in felt too tight.”

  With the memory of his touch and his mouth on every inch of my body fresh in my mind, I’m not ready to have anything that close to my skin yet. Not even my own clothes.

  “Take whatever you want from me, Lydia.” Talent brings the joint to his lips and inhales one last time before offering it to me. I shake my head, and he flicks the butt into the sea fourteen stories down. Holding the hit in his lungs for a fleeting moment, he exhales and says, “It’s yours.”

  Talent lifts his arm and I tuck myself into his side, safe with the weight of him adorned over my shoulders. In front of us is the ocean, and to the side is the twinkling city, which doesn’t have a clue that two of their most unlikely residents have found comfort in each other.

  Nodding toward the roach that’s been carried away by the waves, I say, “Didn’t consider you the type.”

  Talent laughs. “There’s this guy on the second floor who sells it to me every once in a while. I pay him handsomely for his confidentiality.”

  “And if he ever tells anyone Talent Ridge buys pot from him?”

  “I’ll break his neck.”

  “You might be forgiven for the dope, but I think Grand Haven elite might have a hard time looking past a killing.”

  “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” Talent erupts in laughter and it’s contagious. Maybe he finds humor in the high standards he’s held to because he’s lived with them for so long, or maybe it’s the drugs. Either way, I love being up against his body when he laughs.

  I should have thought about that when I next asked, “Are you supposed to be somewhere?”

  Any trace of humor drains from his expression, and his arm grows heavier across my shoulders as the weight of the world comes crashing down on Talent again. Despite the change in demeanor, he says, “I’m exactly where I need to be.”

  “Your brother didn’t seem to think so.” There’s no point in pretending I didn’t catch some of their conversation, just like there’s no point in pretending we can change circumstance. I’m ready to stretch out our time together, but eventually, the universe will demand we return to our assigned seats.

  Talent drops his head back and closes his eyes, groaning. He walks away from me and heads toward the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water from the built-in refrigerator. I linger in the doorway, leaning against the frame, interested in watching his apparent frustration. There’s a new side to Talent I’ve seen since my arrival this afternoon, and it makes him more human than I ever gave him credit for.

  For the sake of Ridge & Sons and for the sake of everyone who’s watching, Talent’s composed and tolerant in his position among the Grand Haven hierarchy. Behind closed doors, he struggles and finds small ways to damn the man. I have a feeling smoking pot and fucking a hooker is only the tip of his disobedience.

  Steely eyes don’t bail from their assault on mine as he gulps water, but I don’t cave under his brutal stare. Talent isn’t the explosive type. He won’t act out in anger or say something he doesn’t mean, even if I’m strong enough to take it. He’s spent his entire life in line and under a microscope, and he’s learned to say what he means and mean what he says. There’s no time for blind rage. It’s deliberate.

  Wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, he asks, “Have you ever considered that I have something to hide? That this is an illusion? Think about it, Lydia, it’s not natural for a family to be as fucking clean as mine.”

  “Do you have unpaid parking tickets or something?” The penthouse has an open concept floor plan. When I sit on the couch in the living room, I still face Talent in the kitchen. “If you plan on spending the rest of our time together justifying how you’re as morally bankrupt as I am, give it up. Nothing you say will convince me of that, Talent.”

  He rubs the back of his neck. “Why are you so damn hard on yourself?”

  “Do I need to spell out the reasons why I’m not a good fit for you?” Counting the examples on my hand, I hold out my pointer finger to call off the first of many reasons and say, “I don’t have a formal education, my only real family consists of a dead junkie, and I’m just one part of a prostitution ring that would rock this city to its core if the truth about Hush got out. You’ll never be able to take me anywhere because I’ve had sex with people you work with. I’ve probably fucked some of your friends.”

  All five of my fingers are up when Talent throws the bottle of water across the room. I’m pleasantly surprised by the show of aggression. Now maybe he understands I’m not the one he should put everything on the line for.

  “That’s what you get with me, Talent.” I drop my hand and mentally prepare myself to be thrown out. I hoped we’d have more time together, but ending it while we’re ahead is for the best.

  “Is getting paid for sex the worst thing you can come up with?” Talent asks. “Lawyers are called devil’s advocates for a reason, Lydia. Nothing fucking surprises me. Not even a prostitute.”

  I roll my eyes and scoff. “Please, you’re a business lawyer. That hardly makes you an expert on the slimy part of humanity.”

  “The girls have a choice, right? You have a choice?” Talent steps around the kitchen counter. He doesn’t approach me, but we’re closer together and my heart beats in anticipation of his nearness. “She doesn’t traffic women? They work with Inez of their o
wn free will?”

  “Of course, it’s a choice. What the hell do you think this is? She’s not a monster.”

  “And if you wanted to quit, would she try to stop you?” he asks. “Would she let you go if you were ready to start a new life?”

  I’m not convinced Inez would let me, in particular, go without a fight, but the other girls are allowed to move on when they decide it’s time. Fortunately and unfortunately, there’s never a shortage of women willing to put their values on the line for quick cash. When one goes, there’s always another ready to pick up where she left off.

  “She’d never force anyone to put their bodies up for sale. That’s ridiculous.” I cross my arms over my chest, defensive of Inez. She isn’t a gold star member of society, but she cares about her girls the only way she knows how. “Inez has strict guidelines, but everyone’s allowed to come and go as they please.”

  He exhales and says, “Then you’re already better than the people I know.”

  “Who do you know?” I ask speculatively.

  Talent pushes away from the kitchen counter and drops to his knees in front of me, placing his hands on either side of the couch cushion beside my legs. “I’m not the man you think I am, Lydia. I don’t know how to explain it to you beyond that right now. What I can say is that I’m constantly surrounded by people, but I never feel seen unless I’m with you.”

  Softening up, I uncross my arms and meet his penetrating stare. It’s hard for me to admit, but I dig deep and whisper, “Me too.”

  “I don’t have the answers, but give me the chance to learn, baby.” He rests his forehead on the top of my knees. I bury my fingers in his hair. “If you want an education, I’ll take care of you while you do it. I’ll be your family. Let me deal with any motherfucker who dares mention your past when you’re with me. No one will threaten you if we’re together, Lydia.”

  I scratch his scalp and chuckle. “My past? Talent, I’m the same whore today as I was when I walked into your office two months ago.”

  He lifts his head from my lap and shakes his head. “No.”

  Inhaling through my nose, I part my lips to argue, but Talent crushes his mouth against mine and kisses me. Any argument I have perishes with the taste of passion.

  “No,” he says again. “Not anymore.”

  It would be effortless to lie and say I won’t return to Inez tomorrow to temporarily relieve his anxiety, but it’s not that simple and my word is my bond. I don’t have much to offer Talent. I’ve shared my body with more men than I will ever remember, and I’m not sure I can be a normal partner in any capacity. Talent needs to commit himself to someone who can stand beside him at business functions and client dinners without questioning if his girlfriend has fucked someone in the room. A relationship with me will never consist of a white picket fence and date nights while the babies sleep, because I scarcely pass as a functioning human being. How could I ever raise another soul?

  I won’t do to a child what Cricket did to me.

  But my word is constant. He can count on the truth.

  So, I don’t say anything and let him kiss me.

  He grabs my hips and pulls my bottom to the end of the couch. He hooks my knee over his shoulder, and I fight the onslaught of emotion that bombards me with the desire in his stare. I forever wish my life were different, but I’ve never wanted to be normal more than I do in this moment under Talent’s affection.

  Love is not for me.

  But the devotion staring back at me nearly convinces me it’s possible.

  His fingers slide up the outside of my thigh, and he kisses the inside of my knee. My chest rises and falls as I inhale heavily, pushing open my shirt. Talent flattens his palm against my lower stomach, and he presses a kiss to my pelvic bone, and lower, and lower.

  When his lips touch mine, I gasp and let the tears fall from my eyes all at once. If I were given the chance to change one thing about my life, it wouldn’t be my childhood or the choice I made to run away after my mom died. My wish would be that Talent be the only man who’s touched me this way.

  He breathes against my center before licking between my folds and sliding his fingers into me, and how have I not allowed this to happen before now?

  I didn’t know.

  I didn’t know how treasured it could be.

  How gentle.

  How smooth.

  And now I do, and it’s too late.

  Covering my mouth with my hand, I’m both devastated and enraptured. This is the best and worst I’ve ever felt, and I can’t decide if the universe is finally taking pity on my tortured soul or if it’s throwing misfortune in my face.

  Because this feeling isn’t mine to keep, but now I know what bliss is.

  Am I supposed to be grateful I was given the opportunity to experience real sensuality, or should I be devastated that I’ll never have it again?

  Unable to tolerate the burden any longer, I cry out and cover my face with both my hands. Talent immediately scoops me off the couch and carries me back to the bedroom in his arms. I soak his skin in agony, holding on as close and as tight as I can—hoping it’s enough when fate returns to collect me.

  “Lydia,” he whispers in a tone lined thick in concern.

  Talent lays me down on the bed, looking back at the door as if he might leave me to close it.

  “No,” I say like he said to me when he started this. I grab at his wrists, his shoulders, and around his neck. “Stay with me. Don’t go. Don’t go.”

  Not yet.

  The sun isn’t up.

  He shakes his head and lowers his weight onto me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Seizing his mouth with mine, he tastes like my sex and my tears, both of which are still hot and wet for him. I welcome him back into my body, not with an agreement that this is solely contractual like everyone else who touches me, but because I might be losing my mind and I want to draw out every second of this madness while I can.

  It’s a sweet torture.

  Let it haunt me.

  Talent laces his fingers between mine and rests our hands beside my head. He strokes deeply into me and says, “I won’t let you go, Lydia.”

  He’s so sure, I almost believe him.

  Almost.

  Talent owns two cars. A black two-door BMW he drives around town, and the most obnoxious white Lamborghini Huracẚn I’ve ever laid eyes on. The car is so contagiously sleek and sexy, even I feel beautiful in yesterday’s Sunday leggings and olive-green shirt. It’s a thrill to stand beside it, and my heartbeat accelerates as I admire the sharp lines and crisp luxury design.

  “Which one should we take?” Talent asks. He stands behind me and circles his arms around my chest, holding me against his body.

  “The white one.”

  After clicking a button on the key fob, the Lamborghini growls and rumbles to life, vibrating the ground we stand on. An electric swell of excitement enters my body through the bottom of my feet and ripples through me like a wave. I can’t help but smile.

  The headlights illuminate the shadowy parking garage in clean white light. Talent opens the vertical passenger door, and he holds my hand until I fall into a seat that feels like it was custom made to suit the form of my body. The evocative earthy aroma of pure leather mixed with the slightest hint of Talent reaches my nose and then my tongue. I sit back and close my eyes, memorizing how it makes me feel in case I never have the opportunity to ride in a car as beautiful as this one again.

  “Are you sure you want to go home?” Talent asks, slipping into the seat beside me. We buckle our seat belts simultaneously. He looks at his wristwatch and says, “I can reschedule my day if you want to stay.”

  Regretfully, I shake my head. “I need to get back.”

  The sun is up, and we’ve run out of time.

  Not only that, but I’m also supposed to meet with Inez for dinner, and Camilla has her first date with a client tonight. Inez thought it would be a good idea to send her on a traditional date with a client
before moving on to a schedule like mine. I’d like to be home when she returns.

  The first time is never easy.

  Talent’s jaw muscles tense, like he can’t accept my answer and might argue. Instead, he dips the car into gear and accelerates out of the parking garage. The only cars I commute in are SUVs, town cars, and the occasional limousine. This is a rush, and laughter bubbles in my throat before we’ve hit the street.

  Are we even on the road? Because this feels like we’re sailing through the air.

  “Faster,” I demand. I sit straight and tighten the strap across my chest. Unsure of where to hold on to, I grip the seat and giggle.

  I fucking giggle.

  Gray eyes drink me in, and the smirk that bends the right side of his mouth swallows me whole. A rush of excitement jets through my veins, and I’d probably clap like a kid on Christmas morning if I didn’t have a death grip on the seat.

  “Hold on tight, baby,” Talent says, dropping his foot on the gas.

  Anticipation feels like the slow click, click, click to the top of a roller coaster right before the drop. In the second between when Talent guns the accelerator and when the car jets forward, we float in time, weightless and freed. My heart seizes, air catches in my lungs, and I’m released from everything but dopamine dropped on my brain like a bomb.

  If I felt like we were sailing through the air before, this feels like a torpedo propelling toward a target across the world. The Lamborghini races down the street, leaving my heart, lungs, and rationality behind to catch up.

  Talent disrespects traffic laws, maneuvering between other cars on the road with ease, shooting through yellow lights before they turn red, and narrowly missing a city bus that turns onto the road without checking its mirrors.

  “Want to drive?” Talent asks. He slows the car as we approach a busy intersection, but ultimately decides he can make it through safely and whooshes past the other cars like a speeding train.

  Laughter erupts from me, and I admit, “Only if you want to die. I don’t know how to drive.”

  Zigzagging between traffic, Talent takes a sharp right turn onto my street and says, “We can fix that. I’ll teach you how to drive.”