Delusive

by Courtney Lane

  After quiet contemplation, I got into Elias’s car, allowing him to close the door behind me.

  The car smelled like him: all citrus, fresh cotton, and a hint of spice. The heat was on full blast and a very welcome perk. When I looked at the dash, I frowned. The modernization of the interior ruined what could’ve been a perfect model for a classic muscle car.

  “I wouldn’t peg you as a classic car connoisseur.” He effortlessly slid into his seat, pulled the seatbelt across his body, and slid it into the locking mechanism.

  “What do you mean?” I questioned, fingering the quilted black leather panel with gold trimming on the door.

  His left hand gripped the lower left quadrant of the steering wheel, preparing to turn the wheel. “The look on your face is that of a classic car purist.” He revved the engine, before shifting into reverse. Deftly manipulating the wheel with one hand, he backed out of the parking space. When he shifted to go forward, he picked up his speed—shifting and accelerating, nearly burning rubber.

  He took the turn of a curve without using the brake. I grasped the seat to avoid slipping toward him.

  “You have no reason to be nervous around me, Hanley. I control the machine, not the other way around. Besides, I race as a hobby. I learned from the best.”

  “Street racing, you mean.”

  “Sometimes drag, occasionally street.”

  “That sounds…dangerous. Not that I would know anything about what you do, or what street racing is like.” I scrutinized his face, wondering if pretending I knew nothing about racing went over well.

  “Why would you know? We aren’t familiar with one another.”

  The glint of white between his lips made me glance at him. “Oh,” I replied. “You were joking.”

  “Obviously very badly.”

  Trying to relax, I rubbed the back of my neck and tried to imagine I was someplace else. The combination of the familiar car and his mere presence were all factors in what had begun to ruin the illusion of who I had to become—who I was made to be.

  Stealing a glance at me, his smile grew mischievous. “Why are you always uncomfortable around me? Was it something I did?”

  I wasn’t sure if he was fucking with me or not. Men as arrogant as he was knew the affect they had on people. He clearly enjoyed making me react to him. “I’m fine.”

  He picked up my wrist and held up my lightly shaking hand. “Your hives have returned.”

  I quickly took my hand away from my neck and settled it across my torso. My stomach felt as though it was tied into painful knots. “I had a lot of coffee today and…”

  He shifted, slowing down his speed. “Better?” When I didn’t respond, he answered for me, “I didn’t think it would work. Where am I taking you?”

  “Forty-two ninety-three Prescott. It’s in Trilogy at Kings. The gated community on the golf course…” I fell silent to prevent my sudden need to over-explain.

  At another red light, he examined me with such intensity I felt like my most private parts were on display. His dark emerald hues flickered against the dimming light, indicating dusk was at an end. “I can’t say I’m used to women reacting to me this way.” Which I find completely inconceivable. “It makes me think something happened to you. Care to tell me what that was, Hanley?”

  “Personal boundary breach,” I responded coldly.

  He frowned and hit the button on the stereo system for the music. The unexpected sounds of Miles Davis’s “Blue in Green” tempered my sour mood.

  With no signs of slowing down, he approached the off ramp for the road to my house. The turn off for my street passed me by, and eventually, was only seen in the rearview mirror through the darkly tinted back windows.

  I cleared my throat to get his attention. “You missed the ramp that leads to my street.”

  “I want to show you something,” he said, his voice carrying a melancholic tone.

  “You said you’d take me home,” I protested, “and you made a promise to some random guy to get me home within an hour.”

  It didn’t shake his demeanor. He easily shrugged it off, nonverbally telling me he was going to take me where he wanted me to go, whether I wanted him to or not. “What I want you to see won’t take long.”

  Roth was my character study and turned out to be very easy to figure out, until he turned on me. Elias had very little information readily available on him. His past, his business dealings, even his current relationship status was impossible to find. Being in his presence didn’t offer any clues about the man. Other than his dominant nature, I held no faith in his inability to take me somewhere and kill me.

  He exited the town limits, heading toward the county’s more rural areas with narrow roads and fields full of crops yet to be harvested. He pulled off onto a gravel road leading to a patch of land with a beautiful variety of flowers and plants. The full moon and starry night illuminated the flowers, and the array of colors made a rainbow.

  My nerves became completely frazzled. I thought about chewing on my nails. After looking at the pristine red manicure, I changed my mind.

  Shortly after opening his door, he paused to glance over at me. “Come with me.”

  I stared at the glove compartment, wondering if there was a weapon in there I could use against him. “So you can kill me?”

  “Hanley,” he sighed, not finding humor in my ironic joke. “I’m not going to hurt you. Can you trust me for one second?”

  I got out of the car and followed him. He led me down a small passageway in the middle of the plentiful acres of greenery.

  “Isn’t this private property?” My heels wobbled on the uneven gravel, making me unsteady.

  “This land belongs to my parents,” he replied, preceding me along the path. “One of their vacation homes is located four acres behind the meadow.”

  We walked farther, stopping our jaunt when we reached a paved circular clearing surrounding a reflecting pool encased in concrete in the center of a private race track. “My father built this for my mother. He wanted to give her something beautiful to look at when they spent the summers here while my father tested his cars. The flowers were imported.” He plucked one, staring at it fixedly. “Ipomoea: what the town is named after.”

  I took in the scenery of the flowers in hues of white, red, blue, purple, and pink. A few were a beautiful tricolor of white, pink, and purple. “This place is gorgeous.” I sat on the bench overlooking the small manmade pond to the left of the track.

  Sitting next to me, he placed a purple ipomoea on my lap and watched me.

  “What?” My hand instinctively went up to cover my itchy neck.

  “You’re looking at this as though you’ve never seen land before.”

  As I viewed the sky, I was quickly mesmerized by the stars set against a blue-hued night. “I have. I just haven’t seen anything like this. My father and I bounced around a lot. I was born in Ocala, Florida, but it wasn’t exactly a nice neighborhood. Luckily, things got better for us and we moved to nicer places. My father preferred urban areas, so every time we moved, he’d get a condo in a luxury high rise downtown. My sister and I always thought he did that to have a good excuse to say no when we asked him for a dog or cat.” I crossed one leg over the other, continuing to be entranced with the beauty of things I’d never encountered before.

  “Small world,” he said, his voice soft and little huskier than usual. “I was born in Ocala.”

  Telling him where I was really born was a small slip up, but I never thought it would get me into trouble, because I wasn’t aware—nor was I told—that we were born in the same town. “You probably lived in a community like Bellechase or Westbury. When did your parents come here?”

  “Actually, we lived in Country Club,” he replied, resting his arms on the backrest of the bench we were seated on. “We moved to Ipomoea shortly after my grandfather died. I was eight or nine at the time.”

  I glanced at him sheepishly, observing the way he continued to study me. “Is there
something wrong?”

  “Not at all.” His warm smile returned. He adjusted the arm that lay behind me, moving his hand to finger the lower length of my hair. “I’m stopping myself from making your nerves worse…or having you react the way you do when I compliment you.”

  My scalp prickled when it felt the slight movement of his hands, reaching up to finger the strands closest to my scalp. “I…react?”

  “You become tense. The look on your face isn’t exactly the look I’m hoping to see.” He turned toward me and reached up to graze my neck, I jolted in response to the touch of his fingers on my skin. “And then, there’s that.”

  “It isn’t that your compliments make me uncomfortable. I…” I shrugged, leaving my statement incomplete.

  His hand swept across my hair, flipping the side closest to him over my shoulder to reveal one side of my face. “The beauty you are admiring is nothing compared to what I see every time I look at you.”

  Confused as to whether I should roll my eyes or make my eyelashes flutter, I remained as still as a statue. Slowly, his posture sloped forward. His face neared mine, the heat of his breath teased my lips.

  My lips tingled with desire for something I couldn’t have. My heart began to hammer in anticipation of something I wished I didn’t want. My mind screamed at me, telling me things that might not have been true, but it worked to return me to clearer thoughts.

  The purpose behind what I thought was an innocent outing had become transparent. How many times had he taken a woman to this very spot to have his way with them by flashing his beautiful smile to get what he wanted? I may have been hopelessly naïve at times, but never intentionally stupid. I knew what he expected, but it wasn’t the way things were going to go. I had plans for the future—my future. A quick, fleeting night would ruin those plans.

  Thinking he intended to kiss me, I abruptly got up and took a few steps backward. “I was hoping my snap judgment of you was wrong.” My disappointment was no longer easy to hide. “Why did you have to prove me or Skylar right? Did you run out of women you found attractive enough to fuck, and thought you’d try to get the new woman in town to spread her legs? I bet that guy back at the restaurant was a set up. I don’t spread my legs to cocky assholes. Can you please take me home now?” My vitriol was unintended and involuntary. It was drawn from an unexpected and unfamiliar place. On the brink of apologizing, I was interrupted.

  He shot up from the bench with his palms pushing the air. The scowl on his face told me I’d offended him, deeply. “Slow down before you say something you might regret.” His voice boomed despite the control he had over the volume. “Even though I think it might be too late.”

  “Yes.” I bobbed my head persistently. “I think that’s a really good idea. To slow down.”

  “You think this is a predetermined spot where I take women to fuck them?” His tone was full of enough acridity to make me cringe. “I wouldn’t need a place like this to get what I wanted, if that was what I wanted. I haven’t encountered a woman who would appreciate this.” Placing his hands inside the pockets of his Italian wool slacks, he squinted at me like I was out of focus. “I was wrong in thinking you would.”

  “You don’t know me,” I quietly reminded him.

  “I’m getting the distinct impression you don’t want me to.” His voice was gruff and harsh with disapproval, matching the sudden hardness of his features.

  “Well, I’m glad it’s clear,” I remarked, the projection of my voice continuing to fail me.

  The hardness of his ire was thrown at me, silently. "Did you think I wanted to kiss you?"

  The obvious answer was yes.

  He held up a finger to me, warning me to stay still while forewarning me he was going to touch me. He reached up to finger my hair and pulled a stray piece of dry grass from it. He showed it to me, successfully making me feel worse than I already did.

  “I’m sorry,” I nearly whispered, dropping my chin to my chest. I eyed the ground beneath my feet, feeling completely idiotic for overreacting. “This was really sweet. I’m sorry I ruined it. But, you’ve read this whole thing wrong, and I guess I have, too.”

  His elongated moments of stillness made me look up at him. He quirked a brow, tilting his head slightly to his right. “And how have I read the situation?”

  I tried to mentally remove myself from the place he threw me into. It was unfamiliar territory. I didn’t do well with the unfamiliar. “If I was another woman, I would’ve kissed you even if you didn’t want to kiss me.” I slapped my hand to my forehead, shaking my head, “Fuck, that sounds worse.” I looked at my watch, continuing the game of disinterest, because I had to in order to save face.

  I couldn’t deny that although I turned down the kiss that never was, knowing it was never his intent left me slightly bereft of my once tightly held confidence.

  There was an even bigger issue with what I fought tooth and nail to deny: I had begun to like him. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for a tool. He was meant to be used and discarded when I achieved what I wanted. Feelings obscured one’s focus and had no place in my current situation.

  “Thank you for everything, but can you please do what you promised you would?”

  Sighing, he removed a hand from his pocket and reached behind his head to rub the back of his neck. “Yes, Hanley, I will do what I promised I would.”

  AT THE ENTRANCE to the driveway, I looked over at Elias while his car remained idle. He appeared deep in thought over the unspoken. When I moved to open the door, he effortlessly reached over to the driver’s side panel and activated the locking mechanism.

  “I’m”—his eyes found their way to my face—“having a company party at the Design Center in a few weeks. I’d like you to come.”

  “I’ll probably have to work.”

  “You receive your schedule this far in advance?” He raised both brows in disbelief. “Even if that were true, do you really have to work all night? The mall closes at nine-thirty.”

  “I get off at ten,” I explained. “If today set a precedence, it usually takes thirty minutes to close the store.” I surveyed the house to check if my father was awake and watching from one of the windows. “Why can’t you let this go, Elias?”

  He reached across the center console and grabbed my hand. “I’ve never done anything I would regret later. If I give up on getting to know you, I will.”

  “One look, and you just had to have me?” I laughed softly at how ridiculous it sounded.

  “Come to the event. Stay for thirty minutes. If you find you’re not having fun, you’re more than welcome to leave.” He licked his lips, drawing my attention to his mouth. “I need to see you again.”

  I tried to approach the situation with him logically. For some reason or another, rationality relented for spontaneity and intrigue.

  His eyes began to plea with me, and I completely melted. “Okay.”

  With his brightened smile, he unlocked the car door. Like a chivalrous man on his first date, he walked me to the front door. We said our goodbyes, and he kissed my cheek before he left. The gesture threw me further from the idea of figuring out the man behind the persona.

  My father was seated on the couch in the living room, near the window, facing the street. A bottle of beer was clutched between both hands. From his twisted position, with his right ankle resting across his left thigh, he had a clear view of Elias and me when we interacted outside.

  “Was everything all right?”

  I shuffled my sore feet across the floor as I headed toward my bedroom at the back of the house. “My car broke down. I had to get a ride from someone.”

  “Someone?”

  “Elias Cari.”

  He slowly smiled, aware of the surname we both knew very well and extended his hand to me. “It’s going to be okay finally, isn’t it?”

  “It is, Dad. Finally.” I lied to my father on this rare occasion. It wasn’t going to be fine, because in the short time I had known him, Elias was close to
cementing my inability to control my reactions to him. If it continued, I couldn’t be the complicit person I needed to be to carry out my father’s wishes and get things done.

  “You look like something is on your mind. I’ve got time. Tell me all about how it went.”

  “I’m really tired, Dad.” I gave him a smile I hoped would be read as inscrutable.

  He dropped his hand from its position of remaining extended into the air.

  We’d never had any semblance of a relationship where I shared intimate details of my life with him. After a certain point—namely puberty—we never talked about what was going on in my life. The only thing he ever discussed with me pertained to his constant need to live in the past. He either talked about my mother and the way things were between them, or in later times, we discussed our plans for retribution.

  “Another time?”

  “Sure.” His smile faded, stressing his disappointment. “Get some sleep.”

  After swooping into the living room to give him a kiss on the forehead, I went down the hall to my bedroom. When I closed the door, I touched my cheek, feeling the latent tingle left there by Elias’s lips. Gazing across the bedroom, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror above the dresser. I fingered my grin and tried to temper it.

  It was of no use.

  THREE

  THE FOLLOWING MONDAY—THE day after my impromptu trip to the field with Elias—I called a local mechanic and had my car towed from the restaurant parking lot to a repair shop. Despite hounding them over the phone about the progress for two weeks, they hadn't yet started repair work on my car.

  Skylar and I had the same early shift at La Dentelle that day, and for that reason, she kindly volunteered to take me to the repair shop before we opened the store so I could find out exactly what was hindering the mechanic from fixing the car.

  “The car is going to need a electrical system,” the owner of the repair shop, which happened to be located a block away from the mall, told me. “I can cut you a deal on the labor. It will cost you about twelve hundred.”