Ash to Steele

by Stewart, Karen-Anne

  “If you know more about what I should wear, take the cost of the dress out of the $1000.00,” I suggest, feeling better with my paying for it.

  His eyes soften, his lips curving into a genuine smile, “Promise me that you won’t let this city taint your innocence.”

  “The only one trying to taint my innocence is you,” I return, a little confused by his meaning.

  “Dur Acier pays for the dress, and that’s final,” he demands.

  Not able to handle another mood swing, I breach the topic that brought us here and the rest of the main course is spent discussing the presentation and the names of the board members. By the time dessert arrives, I feel more at ease about tomorrow night and with Breck.

  Chapter Six

  I thought dinner was divine, but dessert is absolutely exquisite. “Do you know how to make dishes like this?” I ask before taking another large bite of the sinful chocolate torte, my taste buds rejoicing as cream slides against my tongue.

  Breck laughs before leaning over and wiping a piece of cream from the side of my mouth with his thumb, then sticking his finger in his mouth, licking off the succulent treat.

  The action causes my inner thighs to clench and my heart to melt a little when I see a brief shot of carefree joy pass through his normally brooding eyes.

  Pulling his thumb out of his mouth, he winks, “Desserts are my specialty.”

  “I bet your family loves you during the holidays,” I reply, trying hard to get the image of his wet thumb and how it would feel slowly brushing across my lips out of my head.

  The joy vanishes, and his hand stops in mid air before he continues with his intended bite of dessert, swallowing it whole, not taking the time to enjoy it. “My mother died when I was younger and I don’t communicate with my father.”

  “I’m sorry.” My gaze drops as I place my fork on my plate.

  “It’s fine, Emma.”

  “My mother died when I was eleven.” Swallowing hard, it’s difficult to comprehend how the pain can still be so raw after this many years, “I’m sorry you lost yours.”

  Breck’s hand finds mine as he gently intertwines my fingers in his. His thumb gently caresses my skin, and I can feel the moist heat of his touch, but it tugs at my heart this time instead of forbidden areas. We stay like that for a few minutes before the waiter comes for the tab. When Breck’s hand leaves mine, I feel the loss of his comfort immensely.

  Reaching for my purse, Breck’s eyes dart to mine. “Don’t even think about it,” he warns, “I invited you.”

  Smiling graciously, I give in.

  “When did you meet Justin?” Breck asks as we begin to leave, slipping his blazer around my shoulders.

  “I’ve known him my entire life. We’re from the same town.”

  “Ah, that’s right, your towns are much smaller than what I’m accustomed to.”

  “Yes, Pickens, population just over three thousand,” I grin.

  “Sounds suffocating.”

  “It was,” I reply, conflicted.

  Rain begins to fall, and the valet quickly opens an umbrella, handing it to Breck as we wait for the car. He pulls me closer to him to keep me dry and I can feel the warmth of his body seep into mine. His intoxicating scent fills the air. I inch just a little closer.

  Sliding into the car when it arrives, I nervously play with the soft fabric of his blazer. “Thank you for dinner,” I tell him when he closes the door.

  “You’re welcome,” Breck flashes a smile, his demeanor more relaxed than I’ve seen, and I feel something soften inside.

  “This city is beautiful at night,” I gush, watching in awe as the rain drops fall against the windshield in distorted shades of red, yellow, and green reflecting the numerous lights showering the city in magic.

  “What is it like where you grew up?”

  “It’s beautiful in a different way. There are no skyscrapers or museums, but plenty of natural beauty. Our house is surrounded by acres of nothing but woods.”

  “Why did you leave, Emma?” Breck’s gaze remains fixated straight ahead, but I can hear his need to know in the tone of his voice.

  Wrapping his blazer tighter around my shoulders, I inhale his scent before answering, “I needed more.”

  This causes Breck to look at me, his gaze penetrating but soft. His voice is hesitant when he speaks, “I want to show you something.”

  There’s something in his eyes that imprisons me and my body reacts to that confinement in frightening ways.

  The next ten minutes are silent, until he pulls into a parking garage, telling me to wait as he comes around to my door and takes my hand, “C’mon.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask, acutely aware of how well my hand fits in his. His grip is strong and gentle, fitting the rest of his contradictions beautifully.

  “You’ll see,” his lips curve into a tilted, teasing smile, and I lose a little of myself to him.

  Breck’s hand never leaves mine as we take an elevator to the top of a building I can’t place. The rain hits the metal covering above us as he lets go of my hand to unlock a door, nodding his head for me to follow. It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark stairway until his fingers slip through mine again as he leads me up the stairs and out another door onto a covered rooftop garden. The sound of the rain is soothing as I take in the magnificent view of the city lights below.

  “This is stunning,” I manage to whisper, feeling like time has stopped while we watch the world below. The view goes for miles and I stare at its vast tranquility.

  “It’s my grandfather’s building. His suite is a couple of floors below us. It’s even more impressive when the night is clear and the stars are out.”

  “It’s impressive now,” I assure him, thankful he shared this with me. “You seem to be very close to your grandfather.”

  “Are you close to yours?” he asks.

  I decide to ignore how he purposefully deflected the question. “Yes. Both my mother’s and father’s.”

  “Do they live in the same town?”

  “Almost my entire family lives in Pickens. A few cousins have moved away, but other than that, we’re all within a few miles from each other.”

  “You still talk like you’re there,” Breck points out.

  “Habit,” I laugh, shrugging, “it’s all I’ve ever known.”

  Breck runs the back of his hand down my cheek. I close my eyes, lost in the heady, sweet sensation, never wanting it to end.

  “What exactly is the more that you need, Emma?” His breath is hot against my neck.

  Opening my eyes, he’s directly in front of me, his face tilted close to mine.

  Breck runs his hand around the back of my neck, cupping my head and lowering his mouth until it’s almost flush to my lips. “There’s something about you I don’t understand,” he whispers, his steel blue gaze locked on mine. “I need to understand you. I need to know why I can’t get you out of my head.”

  His breath has a faint sweet smell of wine, but it’s his presence, his touch, his eyes, the sound of his voice, that leaves me inebriated. I could be his tonight. He would love me better than I’ve ever dreamed, but it would be gone before the sun rises. I deserve more than that. Pushing away from him, I take a few steps back, needing the space to be able to think clearly. “I can’t do this.”

  Breck lets out a soft sigh, “The whole ‘no sex before marriage’ thing.”

  “There’s that, and I’m not a game for you to play with until you figure out how to win,” I assert gently. “I’m not like you. I can’t sleep with you tonight then act like nothing ever happened tomorrow.” Tears burn in the back of my eyes, but I blink them away, ignoring the acid in my throat, “I’ve seen how you treat the other girls. I don’t want to be treated that way.”

  “I treat them that way because that’s how they want to be treated,” Breck states unapologetically.

  “Who wants to be treated like no one? Like some insignificant person who can deliver plea
sure for a few hours of attention?”

  “They are not the only ones being used, Emma,” he admonishes, his anger returning, stinging my heart.

  “I don’t want to argue.” Letting it go, I turn back towards the skyline, getting lost in the enchantment of the rain falling like colored spheres of light sparkling until it fizzles from view. “When your grandfather is better, which will you choose? The restaurant or Dur Acier?”

  Breck’s quiet for a moment before taking my arm, pulling me to where I’m facing him, like he’s searching for something inside me, “The obvious choice would be Dur Acier with its prestige instead of working in a restaurant.”

  “That’s only an obvious choice for people looking for prestige. To me, money or fame is incomparable to following your dream. If working in a restaurant makes you happy, that’s the choice you should make.”

  A faint smile lights up his eyes, “When are you going to follow your dream?”

  “I am. I have a meeting with a gallery owner in a couple of weeks.”

  “One meeting after three months?”

  Standing up, I hold his jacket tighter, not wanting to discuss my lack of success. “Aren’t you cold?”

  Taking the collar of his jacket in his hands, his thumbs brush against my neck in the barest whisper as he covers me further. “I’m a lot of things right now, but cold isn’t one of them,” his words are raw, his eyes darkening impossibly to a deeper blue. “Speaking of following your dreams, you have a long day tomorrow with the presentation of yours. I’ll get you back to your car so you can get home and get some sleep.”

  The ride to Dur Acier ends too soon as he takes my keys, starting my car to get it warm while he insists I wait in his.

  “No offense, Emma, but your car’s a piece of shit. When’s the last time you had a full tune up?” Breck asks as he rubs his hands rapidly together to warm them when he closes his door.

  “I have no idea.”

  “You need to, and soon; it’s making all sorts of noises no vehicle should make. I can recommend a good mechanic if you want.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” I assure him. I had already planned on doing that when he told me how much Dur Acier will pay for my design.

  Hating the awkward moment of not knowing what to do or say after a date, even though this wasn’t a date, not to him anyway, I fumble with my purse, sliding his jacket off my shoulders and handing it back to him. I want him to kiss me and I hate myself for that. “I had a great time. Well, part of the time. Thank you.”

  Breck laughs.

  I love that sound. I’ll take the carefree Breck over the angry Breck any day.

  “The evening wasn’t a total loss,” he teases…I think. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 7:00 p.m.” Breck brushes his hand over mine, sending chills sparking all the way to my toes. “Sweet dreams, Emma.”

  ͠

  “Holy hell!” Breck exhales slowly, his eyes slowly devouring the sleek black dress that tastefully, but seductively, hugs me in just the right areas.

  I can’t help but inwardly cheer when his gaze turns into molten steel as it travels from my lips, which are currently bright red, down the subtly exposed cleavage under the lace v neckline, to my usually tan legs covered in sheer, black silk stockings, and stopping at the four inch black stilettos with just a hint of red lining the edges.

  “Are you trying to torture me, Emma?” Breck asks, wetting his lips.

  Absolutely. “Not at all,” I reply, trying my best to keep from smiling at the carnivorous hunger, like he wants to strip me of my dress and taste every inch of me right now. That thought does things to me that I wish it didn’t. Forcing myself to regain my failing composure, I pull my eyes away from him before I succumb to his hunger, allowing him to sample everything I have to offer. “You were the one who sent the dress.”

  “I just made a phone call. The owner of the boutique handled the rest.” Taking a step closer, he runs his finger slowly across his bottom lip, “And, she handled it well. You look stunning.”

  Blushing, I smile shyly, “Thank you.” I tear my eyes from his. “The coat wasn’t part of the deal, however,” I chastise, holding up the full length red satin lined, black wool coat.

  “Call it a bonus.” Flashing his incensing smile, he takes the coat, helping me into it before his hand slips around my waist, turning me back around, “Beautiful.”

  My cheeks flame, still not used to his calling me that. Stealing a glance at him, I wish I could see through his coat, knowing he will be amazingly breathtaking. Even more than usual.

  “Ready?” he asks, extending his elbow.

  Slipping my arm through his, I nod. Glass shatters down the hall as we leave my apartment, and Breck has me pinned against the wall with his body shielding mine before I have time to process the noise. “It’s okay,” I breathe, “it’s just the neighbors and their daily tantrum.”

  “This isn’t the place for a young woman to be living alone,” he growls, taking a second glance in the direction where yelling has joined in with the sounds of breaking glass.

  “It’s not that bad,” I lie, praying the addict living two doors down doesn’t make an appearance.

  “You need to move, Emma. Soon.”

  “Right now, let me tackle one hurdle at a time. I just want to get this presentation over with.”

  “Fine, but this discussion isn’t over,” his words are authoritative, filled with finality.

  “You can discuss it all you want, but where I live is my decision,” I remind him, my voice every bit as firm as his.

  “Beautiful, impossible woman,” he groans. “Let’s go.”

  The rain has continued from last night, lasting through the day only to pour even harder this evening. At least we’re prepared this time. Breck’s driving the Italian sports car again, and he holds the umbrella over my head as he opens my door.

  Going over the presentation again on the way, my stomach slowly twists into a million new knots when he pulls in front of the house that appears more like a mansion. We are ushered inside, out of the rain, as the valet parks Breck’s car. The foyer is larger than my bedroom. Technically, it’s larger than my living room as well, since the two are combined in the tiny flat. Meticulous dark marble covers the floor and stark white walls extend four stories high with a majestic stairway as the focal point that gently curves to the higher floors.

  My attention is immediately diverted to the paintings lining the walls. Original works of art by Picasso, Matisse, and Degas make an awe-inspiring eclectic collection. I’m pulled to them as soon I as see them hanging on the walls.

  Breck gently grabs my elbow, whispering in my ear, “I promise I will show you the entire collection before we leave, but they are expecting us at the moment.”

  Reluctantly, I turn away, only to find myself staring at a living masterpiece. All air flees my lungs as I drink in the sight of Breck layered in a three piece tuxedo made of the finest threads. My pulse races as I finally remember how to breathe, “You look amazing.”

  “Granddad’s tailor didn’t do half bad,” Breck’s eyes glint teasingly.

  More like freaking marvelous. “No, not half bad, at all.”

  “Let’s grease some wheels and get this done so we can get the hell out of here,” Breck mumbles under his breath.

  A small pang stabs my heart, reminding me that we are here for one purpose only. That I’m here for one purpose only, then my role will be done, and I’ll no longer be needed. “Yeah, let’s get it over with,” I respond, hoping my voice doesn’t betray me.

  Following Breck into a large living area full of mingling women dressed in elegant designer gowns and men in tuxedos, I muse at how none even remotely come close to how hot Breck looks in his. A warmth spreads against my lower back as Breck rests his hand against me. I find it amusing how the action comforts me now, the complete opposite to the first time he did it at the Dark Hole.

  “This must be the lovely lady you were telling us about, Breck.” A nice looking
middle-aged man with kind eyes greets us, smiling warmly at me.

  “Luke, let me introduce you to Emma Jones, the artist who designed the logo she will be presenting to you and the others tonight,” Breck nods at me, his hand gently pushing me forward.

  Hearing Breck refer to me as an artist is like the sweetest lullaby. With all my paintings that Justin saw, he never called me that, even when the paintings won awards.

  Luke takes my hand, bringing it to his lips as he brushes a quick kiss across my knuckles, “Luke Hasting. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jones.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Hasting.”

  I’m introduced to seven additional board members and I try to keep all of their names straight, being sure to smile assuredly and not fidget, which is much harder than anticipated. Breck stays by my side for the first few minutes of polite chit chat before gently nudging me and taking a few steps away. Running my tongue across my lips that have suddenly gone dry, Breck gives me a reassuring smile and a discreet shake of his head, reminding me about the importance of confidence.

  “I don’t want to hinder you gentleman from the party any longer. I’m ready to show you my design whenever you’re ready,” I offer, a shot of pride lengthening my spine at how my words sound unbelievably more self-assured than how I really feel.

  “Please begin, Ms. Jones,” Bryon Southerland, the youngest board member encourages, taking a seat while the others follow.

  Breck hands me the iPad from the briefcase he brought.

  “Being members of the most lucrative manufacturing industry in the East, you are aware of how Harrison Steele, and his grandson, Breck Steele, have launched the fully reconstructed green line to provide the same exemplary service as in prior years, but added the energy efficiency that will not only save your consumers money but Dur Acier as well, while propelling the new line to unprecedented earnings predicted to surpass the original estimates within six months.”