by Stella Rhys
Abram was silent. I let go of the breath I was holding when the sky color returned to his eyes.
“He tried fighting my dad.”
I blinked. “What?” I smiled nervously as Abram laughed, leaning his head back and gazing out the window as he recalled.
“We were in high school and Gavin was this smart, skinny kid. Beanpole with glasses, basically. And I told him I didn’t want to do it anymore but I couldn’t stop. The fighting. I’d knocked some kid out and he was still in the hospital ten days later. And I heard he was from a poor family, no health insurance, they were banking on his fight to pay their rent. So I felt like a piece of shit. I wanted to stop fighting but my dad wouldn’t let me out of the next two matches he booked. So when he came to get me, Gavin – all one hundred-twelve pounds of him – got right in his face and said, ‘If you don’t let Abe out of this I’m going to beat the living crap out of you.’ Because ‘crap’ was as far as he went with cursing. And my dad laughed in his face so Gavin took a swing, landed one punch, and then got his ass thoroughly handed to him within two seconds. At which point I got in between them.” Abram shook his head, looking back at me with a small, crooked grin. “He had this little scar from that day on, right in the middle of his eyebrow.”
I shook my head. “So I’m not the only one you’ve scarred,” I teased, touching the fine white line on my forehead. Abram gazed at it softly before brushing his lips over it.
“That was Nate. I have no intentions of ever leaving a scar with you.”
“Fine.” I bit my lip. “Continue.”
Abram gave a little laugh and shrugged. “Gavin realized he couldn’t help me, so he paid that kid’s hospital bill and just tried to be there for me. To talk me out of the guilt spiral after every fight. He helped me finally get my way, break off contact form my dad. He had my back through everything – even when I came back and started making money off of all the same things that turned me into a piece of shit. He never came to any of the nights, never gambled at the Monarch, but he never judged me. He just made sure to be there for me.”
I could feel how taut Abram’s muscles were under my hands. I frowned as he looked up at me, cupping my face and gently pushed back my protruding lip. I didn’t even realize I was pouting but I couldn’t help feeling utterly heartbroken. It hurt to get to know more about Gavin Theroux. It hurt enough to know that he’d been so brutally murdered, but it hurt even more to know that he had always been that good person everyone knew him as, even as a little kid. He’d always been exactly what Abram needed.
“What are you thinking about?”
Abram’s question stirred me out of my thoughts. “Nothing. Just that you were lucky to have such a good friend. Some people go their entire lives without meeting a Gavin Theroux, let alone having the chance to be his best friend. His brother, basically.”
“Yeah, some people have best friends who end up marrying their ex-boyfriends right?”
“Oh, wow. Low blow.” I pretended to be offended but I knew Abram was just trying to lighten the mood.
“Hear from Evan or Holly at all?”
“Yes, but hearing from them is different than listening to them. I’ve ignored all their texts and calls. Partly because I haven’t had the time to sit and have a minute of peace till this morning, but mostly because eff those two.”
“Say it.”
“Fuck those two,” I grinned. “Though to be fair, Holly’s family took me in similar to the way Gavin’s family took you in. I used to live at their house for entire summers because my parents didn’t want to take me on vacation with them. So they saved money on air fare and groceries by dumping me at the McPherson’s.”
“What’s your best memory of Holly?” Abram asked.
“Aside from the time she tricked me into watching her make out with my ex at a bar? And then got justice handed to her when you walked in as my ‘boyfriend’?”
Abram ran his hands up my waist, making me feel so small and delicate with how much of me his palms covered. His voice was a low rumble as he smirked against my skin. “You liked that didn’t you?” I wet my lips as he arched my back, trailing kisses along my ribs and licking the underside of my breasts.
“Uh-huh,” I breathed out.
“What else did you like from that night?”
I sucked in my bottom lip as I remembered that night at the bar with Holly. I had barely known Abram yet, but after Evan had stormed after me into the bathroom and put his hands all over me, he had easily gotten rid of him before pushing me up against the sink. He had watched me through the mirror, my face contorting as he thrust a hand between my thighs, pleasuring me over my dress. “I think you know what I liked about that night, Abram.”
“Remind me.”
I closed my eyes, feeling his tongue trailing hot warmth over my skin as his free hand slipped under my lap, his middle finger circling my clit.
“You did that over my dress and you called me ‘good girl’ till I came for you,” I murmured, grinding against his palm. I felt my wetness slide over him, so turned on by the sheer contrast of our dirty foreplay atop the purity of his white sheets.
“And then what?” Abram’s voice was hungry, demanding. He paused his stroking, resting his finger against my tortured, swollen pearl. “Tell me what happened when we got into the car.”
I was aroused but half-sheepish. “I distracted you.”
“More specifically, you took these out,” Abram kissed my breasts, “lifted your skirt,” he resumed his stroke, “and started touching yourself and making all these ridiculously sexy sounded as you squirmed all over my passenger seat. Basically getting my dick so fucking hard it impossible for me not to swerve off the road.” A naughty twist curled his mouth as the mention of his cock had me looking down between us, an involuntary mmm escaping my lips as I laid eyes on his rock of an erection resting tall and proud against his abs.
“I’m sorry about that. But I can make it up to you,” I murmured hastily, sliding down on Abram and laying myself on his legs. I reveled in his surprised grunt as I took him in my mouth and gave a wet push down on his shaft.
“Oh, fuck,” Abram hissed as his helmet touched the back of my throat, his muscled thighs flexing as I sucked my way slowly back up. I reached down to touch myself while tasting him, running my lips tight over his every ridge, drawing the deepest, sexiest groans out from the depths of his throat. I had never been so turned on by a sound in my life. I stroked myself harder, his cock in my mouth, his satisfaction in my ears. I could hardly handle it as he murmured at me the hottest, naughtiest filth I’d ever heard, my lips swelling numb around his girth and my pussy soaking my fingers wet. I was over-stimulated, my every muscle seizing, my core clenching hot with the threat of an orgasm I wasn’t sure I could handle in this position – but Abram thought otherwise. “Go on,” he rasped, fisting my hair. “Come on, baby. Make yourself come.”
I complied and brought him with me. He muffled my moans as he came ferociously between my lips, twitching inside my mouth and slowly releasing his fist around my hair with a long exhale. I pulled off his cock with a naughty pop sound that sent a last hot spasm through my sex. It dug my nails into his thighs, which in turn made him growl and roll me on my back, crushing a kiss onto my lips.
“Christ,” he caught his breath and sucked my bottom lip. “I could stay here all day so it’s up to you to get us out of bed at some point.”
“Oh, really.”
“Yes. That’s your job today.”
I smirked, thoroughly charmed. “Fine.” So till noon, we stayed there in bed, sometimes talking, other times just laying. And for once, doing nothing felt like everything.
chapter eleven
“Oh my God, I knew it!” Rhode froze to a halt in the middle of the Bergdorf’s, stomping her foot with both shock and glee. “Oh my God - wait. This is crazy. This is fucking crazy!” She tore excitedly at her hair, drawing the curious attention of our fellow shoppers. I had called her to meet me on Fifth Avenue s
o we could go shopping for the Friends of Gavin Theroux gala, which as my friend, she had no choice but to attend tonight. Of course, the invitation meant giving her a little background on my relationship with Abram. He’d been the one to ask me to bring her, as I’d need company for the inevitable moments that he was whisked away by someone or another. So I invited Rhode and simply said that Abram and I were “back on.”
It was a simple enough explanation but she was bouncing off the walls with pure exhilaration, mostly for my sex life.
“Holy God, is he amazing? Is he as amazing as he looks like he’d be? I don’t want to ask you because it’s inappropriate but exactly how much is he packing down there? Oh my God, Isla. Isla. Do you have any idea how fine he is?” she rambled a mile a minute, pacing through the store with both hands still thrust in her hair. I had to laugh despite all the stares around us.
“I do know, yes. I’m sleeping with him.”
“I know, and it’s incredible!” Rhode squealed, yanking me into an embrace, still hugging me tight as she waddled us toward a rack of dresses. “You know what this means, right? You have to look all sorts of ridiculous hot tonight. Like, camera-ready, bathroom-fuck-me hot.”
“Rhode, this is a classy event honoring his best friend who died. We’re not going to do anything like that tonight.”
“Sorry, but yes you are.”
“I’m not sure if you’re the best kind of friend or the worst.”
She flashed a giant smile and shoved a slinky dress in my arms. “Can’t I be both? Now go try this on stat.”
~
Since Abram was due to meet with the board of directors before the gala, I was set to arrive with Rhode. We got ready together at the apartment, in front of my vanity, blasting Amy Winehouse and drinking what Rhode called “lazy sangria” – basically fruit dumped into cheap red wine, topped with a splash of ginger ale. “We have plenty of time to be classy later,” she’d reasoned.
I went with it. Though she’d urged me to buy something short and nude with a plunging neckline, I vetoed it for a long black halter dress with a high neck and mid-thigh slit up one side. Sexy but elegant and classy – perfect for my first experience with upper crust Manhattan society.
“Does Abram have any friends for me?” Rhode asked, dusting the apples of her cheekbones with a shimmery peach blush.
“He has a decently handsome asshole friend,” I offered.
“Well, that poor asshole probably just needs a good woman in his life. That’s how it goes with most assholes. Want me to transform him for you?”
“Please and good luck.”
She laughed. “So, what’s exactly going on with you and Mr. Six-Pack? Are you exclusive?” Rhode rifled through her makeup bag for lipstick, wiggling her perfect eyebrows at me through the mirror.
“We haven’t really had that talk.” I sat on the edge of my bed as I waited for her to finish her makeup. “And he’s in the middle of something big and stressful right now so I don’t really think that talk is going to be a priority anytime soon.”
“Are either of you seeing anyone else?”
I paused. “No.”
“Then I guess you’re as close to exclusive as you’re gonna get without having the conversation. Besides, Abram Lenox is known for having like, a cycle of models and actresses that he runs through till he’s tired and replaces them. The fact that you’ve been the only girl he’s fucked for even a week is impressive.”
“Dream big,” I snorted.
“Hey man, I’m just stating the facts. I don’t know all the ins and outs of whatever romance you guys are having but I can already tell that he likes you. This is an important event for him tonight and he asked you not only to come but to be his date. I spent every year under his employment Googling everything I possibly could about him – not to sound stalkerish – and while he does sometimes get photographed with a girl, he never shows up to events with a date, so… yeah. Don’t argue me on this.”
“I wasn’t,” I laughed.
“Oh, so you know he’s obsessed with you,” she cackled before shutting up to apply lipstick.
Silent, I sat on my bed, taking it all in. She wasn’t totally wrong – Abram and I were a thing. Of some sort. I wasn’t sure exactly what kind of thing we were or if we could call ourselves any official name, but I knew it wasn’t something just ordinary. I remembered the sweet words he had breathed into my ear on his couch, as we caught our breaths chest to chest. “I just want this forever.” They gave me chills to think about again because they sounded almost bigger than the words “I love you.” I had loved Evan but I’d never used the word “forever” with him. Not once. It was a strong word and even stronger coming from the lips of someone like Abram.
But at the same, a voice at the back of my head had been nagging me of late. It told me that our affair was no product of true chemistry. Just adrenaline. Fast-pumping blood and nonstop drama. Abram had been protecting me from day one, of course he’d develop some sort of feeling for me. But I wondered what would happen once the Stefan Toro saga was over. What would happen when the mission that had been fueling Abram for over a year was completed and I was no longer a part of the story? Settled back in his day-to-day life, I wondered if he would still be enthralled by me or if he’d be bored, ready to start a new chapter. Perhaps he’d want to celebrate his victory with his usual partying – the club, the champagne, the bed full of beautiful women. I knew we had something and that it was good but I wasn’t sure if it was real – the type of real that lasted past the heat of the moment. After all, every minute I spent with Abram still felt like a dream. Who was to say that it wouldn’t shatter any second and toss me right back to the lonely place I’d been in four months ago? Fuck. I had officially come to this point. I knew what this psychotic mental agonizing meant.
I was falling for him.
I’d been for awhile but now it was to the point where the thought of being without Abram caused literal heartache. A pang of heat twisted in my chest. Before, the thought of him with another woman would strike me with jealousy. Now, it was deep and real pain.
“Hello. Isla, hello.” I blinked to find Rhode waving a manicured hand before me. I could tell she was ready to go since she looked stunning, all throwback with her sixties bouffant and bold black liner. “Are you okay?” She tilted her cute head at me.
“Yes.”
“Hey.” She gathered my big curls over my shoulder and bent down to look me in the eye. “Whatever you’re thinking about, don’t stress over it. I’m sure it’s about Abram and what tonight means and whatever, blah, blah and I’m sure it’s partly my fault for freaking out like I did. But I’m also sure it’s not worth you sweating about. ‘Cause you know what my motto is? Which shouldn’t surprise you?”
I snorted. “What?”
“Live every day like it’s your fuckin’ last. There is no way you’re going to enjoy life if you anticipate bad shit happening while things are still good. Now put a smile on your pretty face, Cinderella, and take me to the ball.”
chapter twelve
Hundreds of guests milled under the ceiling of the Monarch’s grand event hall, kissing cheeks, swilling Veuve and posing for the cameras. I made sure to smile as brilliantly as they did, though the all-around joy was bizarre for me to take it. But only because I knew the truth behind Gavin’s death. I knew the emotional havoc it had wreaked on so many different lives and the brutal violence it would set off the moment Jesse found Stefan’s location. But no one else knew and I tried not to think about any of it in Rhode’s company.
“You’ve been spotted,” she suddenly murmured, giggling into her champagne flute. I looked up just in time to see, from well across the room, Abram’s eyes on mine before they returned to the crowd of gowns and black ties that surrounded him. He was the man of the hour. The devastatingly handsome one with slicked back hair and a sleek black tux fitted to his broad, stone-carved body. He was stunning, and just as I accepted the fact that it would be awhile before I’d
get to have his attention, Rhode made a squeaking sound. “He’s coming. He’s coming, holy shit, he’s coming.”
I looked back to see the circle dispersing around Abram as he wordlessly parted the crowd, his gaze pinned to mine as he came to me. I wet my lips, unable to help staring back his entire way over. There was something hypnotic about it. I couldn’t understand the feeling but the closer Abram came, the more beautiful I felt.
Giddier than ever, Rhode squealed, turning to hide her gushing face from Abram. “Oh my God, if that’s not him being crazy about you, then I don’t know what is. Bitch – you are his queen.”
I bit my lip, unsure of how to argue her. Under the towering pillars and warm gold lighting of the event hall, Abram did look every bit like royalty and I felt every bit like a princess – or queen – as he approached, the most charming smile on his lips. Like a gentleman, he greeted Rhode before turning to me.
“Isla, you’re stunning,” Abram murmured, so floored he simply stood there for a minute, taking me in from a comfortable, somewhat formal distance. Still, my delight was positively out of control.
“Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself,” I grinned, giggling as Rhode conveniently disappeared, pretending to spot a friend though we were all aware that she knew no one in the room.
“Rhode, right?” Abram asked. I nodded. “I like her,” he chuckled, hands in his pockets as he tilted his head at me. “You know everyone’s watching you right now, right?”
“I was under the impression they were watching us.”
Abram’s eyes swept the length of my black dress. “I’m pretty sure I’d be giving them much less to look at.”
“Oh, I think you’re doing your part.”