Greatest Distraction (Distracted #1)

by Juli Valenti

  “Are you even listening to me?” Elle shouted in my ear.

  “Um, no? Did you say something important or just continue to scream in my ear and I managed to tune it out? ”

  Silence stretched for a minute and I could just picture my friend taking a deep breath to calm down. Elle panicking wasn’t a new occurrence – she’d lost someone she loved very suddenly and it made her … anxious … with the lives of those she loved. That I was included in that category meant a lot so I dealt with her overreactions. Besides, after losing my father, and my mom by crazy proxy, it felt good to have someone who truly cared about me.

  “Sorry … you know I worry –”

  “Yep. S’okay,” I said, cutting her off.

  “So, how was the party last night? Is that where you left your phone?”

  “It was fine. And, no, I left my purse in the car,” I told her, my eyes darting from the man at the stove to my coffee. Man … chipper after only a few hours of sleep, showered, cooking, coffee making, and a good kisser … He’s magic, I tell you. He’s so out of my league.

  “The driver waited until today to return it? Is everything in it? How unprofessional! I’ll call and complain – I know you won’t.”

  “Elle, you don’t need to do that. Nothing’s missing.”

  “But they could’ve copied your license! They know where you live now!”

  “Overreacting much? Of course they know where I live – they were my driver! They picked me up, remember? Oh yeah, and my license is a Georgia one, with an Atlanta address. S’long way from the big city.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

  “Besides, it wasn’t the car service’s car I forgot it in.”

  Dane cleared his throat loudly and I glanced up at him. He was holding a plate, obviously asking permission to use them. Odd, he hadn’t asked to use the pan … or if he could help himself to the food I’d had delivered.

  “Oh em gee, no you didn’t!” Elle had gone from concerned, almost angrily terrified, to sounding as giddy as a schoolgirl. Seriously, she even squealed. “I heard him too! Ryen, you little hussy! Who is he? Do I know him? What does he look like?”

  Her questions were flying at me a mile a minute, leaving me almost dizzy. I could see Dane out of the corner of my eye silently laughing. That’s why he asked plate permission! Damn him!

  “No, I didn’t. Yes, he’s here. No, you don’t know him, I think. As for his looks?” I paused long enough to glare daggers at the man in question. “He’s short and stout, with a face only a mother could love. I’m pretty sure he’s related to one of those troll dolls – I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a jewel in his belly button and everything.”

  Dane abruptly stopped laughing, his jaw dropping to the floor. Pinching his brows, he un-tucked his soft T-shirt and lifted it, giving me a clear view of his stomach. It was cut like a washboard with abs strong enough you could literally wash clothes on. A sprinkling of hair dusted up from the waist of his jeans, leading the happiest trail I’d ever seen to a belly button. I may have stared longer than what was polite but I was nothing if not thorough – I had to be one-hundred-percent positive there wasn’t a gemstone hiding somewhere. Damn. Trouble, trouble, yummy trouble.

  “So he’s actually tall, raw, and so hot he could melt ice, huh?”

  “You’re gonna fill the guy’s head, Elle. Hush it – pretty sure from the ab show I’m now getting he can hear you.”

  “Good view?” she asked, her words a little louder and alight with humor.

  “Mmm,” I non-answered, instead sipping from my coffee again. It wasn’t hot anymore, which was probably a good thing. My face already felt warm from this whole conversation. Any added warmth would likely make me combust.

  “You like him!” I swear if that girl could ever just learn to filter the words that passed through her head. And, of course, the troll-boy himself had heard her newest exclamation. His face snapped to mine, obviously wanting confirmation of her words.

  “Maybe,” I told them both. Surely Dane already knew that … I’d just let the man kiss me stupid.

  “I knew it! What’s his name?”

  “Dane,” I told her, keeping my eyes down. I refused to introduce him as ‘Brian.’ Nope.

  “Hi, Dane!” my best friend yelled through the phone, deafening me.

  “Hello, Elle.” Damn he sounds sexy, I thought as he greeted her.

  “Damn, he sounds sexy,” Elle echoed, creepily reading my mind. I neither confirmed nor denied it, just sighed into the phone.

  “Good for you, pretty girl,” she continued. “He better treat you right.”

  “Elle, stop your rollercoaster – I’ve known him all of one day. You know the old saying … Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

  “But it fell in one. Just like I predicted, you’re going to fall in love.” Elle was positively gushing and my stomach felt sick.

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Nothing wrong with it! Forget about -”

  “Bye, Elle. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Before she could protest or embarrass me further, or bring up discussion topics I wasn’t quite ready to talk about, I hung up. She wouldn’t be happy with me, but she’d get over it. I hadn’t wanted her to know about Dane yet – soon enough the whole world would know. Huh … she didn’t mention any photos in the news, I realized.

  “Have we made the news yet?” I asked Dane as he plated some egg concoction onto two plates.

  “Nope,” he answered simply, shrugging his shoulders and carrying them to a now set kitchen table. Orange juice, coffee, and the plates were set on placemats. Wow, when did he do that? It certainly wasn’t set before – he had used the good settings, generally reserved for the holidays or a fancy date. Definitely never used for a brunch in yoga pants and T-shirts.

  “What do you mean ‘nope’?” I followed his lead and sat in the seat beside him. The food he’d made was making me starve, it smelled so good. It looked like he’d made an omelet before giving up and chopping it to bits. Scrambled eggs, onion, ham, bacon, and cheese made a pile of random in front of me. Good thing, for me, that I happened to like random.

  “A friend of mine works for TMZ. I asked him to not let the photos run.” He looked so intense that I didn’t interrupt him. Instead I kept my mouth shut. See? If I can learn to do it, Elle could too. “Apparently we’re big news. Only thing I got from him is he’d hold the story a few hours. I wanted to talk to you first.”

  “That doesn’t sound god. We covered you’re not crazy, or a stalker – I’m still on the fence with that one – and you’re not married. What else is there? Killer, rapist, and drug addict go in the ‘crazy’ category for me – oh crap! Are those different things to you?”

  “Of course,” he said and I pushed away from the table. Stupid city! Why did I even come here? An even better question would be why and how I was lusting and trusting a man I barely knew.

  “Jesus, what did he do to you?” Dane said incredulously, running his hand through his hair. Despite not knowing him long, I could tell he was frustrated – what I couldn’t tell was if it was with me, the situation he wanted to ‘talk’ about, or himself. Probably me. Wouldn’t surprise me.

  “I’m sorry? What did who do to me?” I asked, confused and feeling silly still standing two feet from the table. Swallowing hard, I sat back down.

  “The man that broke your heart.”

  “How do you know a man broke my heart?” I countered, teetering on the line between offended that he could tell something was off about me, and relieved that he knew I was slightly jaded. Coming off emotionally scarred was much better than completely crazy. Maybe I’d still like him even if he was crazy … I was, after all.

  “Ryen, I was born on a day, but it wasn’t yesterday. Look at you. You’re absolutely beautiful, with a fantastic personality, but when it comes to men, you’re as stray as the cat my parents once rescued – emotionally neglected, abused, and completely skittish. You assume the w
orst about everyone, or maybe just men – I haven’t decided just yet – without having a reason. So tell me, what did he do to you?”

  My jaw was practically on the floor as I processed his words. He thought I was beautiful? Not only beautiful, but absolutely beautiful? Fantastic personality? Me? I didn’t think I was anything special … perhaps a little sarcastic in the best of ways, but fantastic? After a few seconds of internal girl squealing, I got to the rest of what he said. Did he really compare me to a stray cat? I asked the voice in the back of my head. If the shoe fits, strut your stuff, was the answer I got.

  “I…” I started, my mouth gaping like a fish. I wasn’t sure how to answer him, which story to give him, or what would get me out of discussing any of this. There was no way I was going to embarrass myself by telling him what had happened with … Aaron … I just wouldn’t. “Let’s just say that I thought we were taking a graded test, but apparently it was a group project and answer sharing was fine.” There, I thought. Coward. That was about as clear as a foggy window, my subconscious scolded me.

  “So you thought you were exclusive and some dumbass broke your heart by sleeping with other women.” Wow. Okay, so I guess Dane knows Ryen speak – he’s definitely much smarter than I credited him. Not many could understand me … Elle did, of course, but that was a given – besides, Elle and Ryen speak were pretty similar. I’d never had anyone besides the two of us, and perhaps my father, know what I was saying.

  Hearing him use the plural of women was almost as painful as actually catching him with one of them. Were there more than just the sheet-wrapped hooker I saw when I’d been there that night? I didn’t want to know; really, I didn’t want to know. As much as I hated it, though, Dane was probably right. Women. Ouch.

  “Yes,” I admitted, albeit reluctantly. “Moving on … you wanted to tell me something? I’ve pretty much decided it’s okay if you’re crazy, or a psycho, because I guess I am too, but please, be gentle with me.”

  Dane stood and moved to my chair, towering over me even as he leaned his head down to whisper in my ear. “Ryen, when the time comes, you won’t be asking me to be gentle.” His lips were a brush of softness and his words heated my skin, my face, and I shivered. “Anyway, I did want to tell you something important,” he told me as he took his seat once more, though the food on his plate had somehow evaporated. Magic, I tell you, in more ways than one.

  Struck stupid, I stared and waited patiently for him to speak. My brain had completely leaked out my ears on the back of his words, and my mind was wandering to the deliciously possibilities that could await me with him. If I closed my eyes I swear I could see him pressing my back against the wall, my legs wrapped around his strong waist, his hands gripping the underside of my thighs. Oh god. Focus, damn it, you are not a horny nineteen-year-old anymore. That inner voice and I were about to be mortal enemies if she kept up with absurd thoughts like that. I quite liked the mental image. Dane took a deep breath, drawing my attention back to him.

  “I want to say all of this, and I don’t want you to interrupt me,” he said, his posture strong and demanding, and hot as hell. Focus! I opened my mouth to tell him I would stay quiet, but his eyes narrowed to the point that I wondered if he could hear my thoughts. I didn’t speak my daydream aloud, did I? “Not a word,” he reiterated, and I nodded, clamping my lips together. He smiled, nodded, and started to talk.

  “So, I need you to know me, know the shit storm that will surround you the minute those pictures get made public. I know who you are, maybe not personally, but at least what the media has informed the world about you, and you should have the same benefit when it comes to me. To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t already know, until you told me you try to stay out of the flashing lights. Anyway, first, my mom is an Irish immigrant – she came here when she was a teenager, with the promise of a better life by a not-so-up-and-up man. Needless to say, it wasn’t what she thought it would be, and when she tried to run, she was beat up pretty badly. Insert my dad here. He ‘took care’ of the problem, much like he ‘takes care’ of things now, which I’ll get to, and she fell into his arms, lock stock, and barrel.

  “My dad spoils my mom – diamonds, nice clothes, you name it, she gets it. So, that said, it’s no surprise when they had me, he allowed my mom to name me what she wanted, with the exception that my last name was his and his alone, no hyphenations, no keeping her lineage alive. Only his. That’s how I came to be named ‘Brian Dane’ with the very Italian last name ‘Ranucci.’”

  He had my full attention now. Even me, as sheltered as I tried to be, knew of the Ranucci family in New York and the smaller sect in Chicago. They were one of the bigger mafia families in the United States, and my heart started to plummet. I’d never heard of Gianpaolo having a son, but that wasn’t unsurprising. For the most part, the family tried to blend in, except when they didn’t. My disappointment must have shown on my face, because Dane’s eyes look pained as he continued.

  “I can tell by that look that you’ve at least heard the name,” he paused and I nodded, following his directions in not interrupting him until he was finished. “Well, for years, I was lucky enough to fly under the radar – good thing, too, since when I was younger I had no clue what my dad did for a living. I actually thought he was a journalist for the Wall Street Journal for years. Anyway.”

  I was starting to notice that every time Dane said ‘anyway’ or ‘so’ or ‘well’ it was as if he was using an eraser, clearing the things he’d just said so room for more could be added. He was also fidgeting, and my heart clenched a little, the urge to console him over a hurt I wasn’t sure of yet strong.

  “My childhood was mundane, normal, just like everyone else’s. I had a doting mom, I never wanted for anything, and my dad was a pretty strong influence in my life. Then when I was about sixteen, he started asking me to deliver things to his ‘associates.’ I was curious one day and broke the rules by looking inside the brown paper bag he’d given me. There were names, times, and locations with big Xs by them and a stack of cash. Call me a rocket scientist, but it didn’t take one to figure out what it was. I flipped out, devastated and angry all at once. I disowned my dad and his way of life, moved out the day after my seventeenth birthday. Looking back now, it was probably a stupid decision – Gianpaolo would’ve had no qualms with axing me, if it hadn’t been for my mom.”

  The sadness in his eyes was too much for me to bear, and I stood from my chair, making use of his lap. I curled up against him, my face buried in his chest and my hand tracing soothing circles on his back. He hesitated for only a moment before wrapping an arm around my back and continuing.

  “She saved my life, my mom. Somehow she managed to get dad to leave me alone, keep my trust fund, and still support me until I got on my feet and did it myself. The moment I graduated high school, I applied at Ithaca College for a degree in architecture. To my surprise I got in, and a lot of student loans later, I graduated, top of my class. After that, things were pretty easy and the cards fell into place. A friend I’d met in class, and helped tutor, knew of someone selling their design firm in Brooklyn. I took out a loan, bought the place, and built Murdock Designs, my mom’s maiden name, from the ground up.

  “The rest, is history, pretty much. My firm has grown, higher than I ever thought possible, making me very comfortable money-wise. Before you ask, I haven’t spoken to my dad in eight years, other than the occasional greeting when I call home to talk to Mom. I refuse to be my dad, or be defined by the monster he is. Nor have I ever touched my trust fund, or any of his money. Unfortunately, when I show up in the tabloids, they still link me to him – and when I’m in the city, headlines like ‘The Prodigal Son Returns?’ and shit get plastered everywhere.” Dane’s voice had gone soft, his shoulders almost slumping over me. I absolutely hated it, hated that his body language showed shame. Shame over something he had nothing to do with, over who he was instead of who he wasn’t. “I needed you to know, since it’ll come out in about,” he paus
ed, checking his watch from around my back, “forty-five minutes.”

  “Dane,” I started, grasping his face and turning him so I could see his eyes. I wanted him to know how serious I was when I spoke next. “I don’t care who your dad is, or your past. He doesn’t define you, only you can do that.”

  The man beneath me shifted, moving his face from my hand, looking away. Where had the confident, self-assured, hotly-arrogant man who’d kissed me so fiercely earlier gone? This just wasn’t going to do. Repositioning myself, I slipped one leg on each side of Dane’s legs, straddling him. As easy as that, his focus snapped back to me, a question on his face and heat in his eyes. I only hesitated for a moment as I realized I was resting precariously on a very male part of him, before reaching up to cup his face once more.

  “Brian,” I said, desperate to bring my Dane back, but he merely looked at me. Letting my instincts guide me, I pulled his head toward me, my lips hovering over his. I was waiting, waiting for an invitation, or a tilt of his head, anything to let me know he’d want me right now or if he was going to wallow in things he couldn’t change. After what felt like two hours, which was really only about ten seconds, he cocked his head to the side. I pounced, crushing my lips to his, forcing my tongue past the seam of his lips. Responding, his arms encircled me, pulling me even closer against him. He groaned into my mouth before lifting me, much like my earlier daydream, and depositing me onto the table.

  I wrapped my legs around him, not letting space between us, and moaned as he ground against me. His lips were intoxicating me, his tongue searching my mouth and his teeth occasionally nipping my upper lip. We parted for a moment and my eyes snapped open to find his, intense and focused.