by Dani Wyatt
Blinking away tears, I smooth down my skirt before it can expose my bare ass. Laundry day didn’t happen this week, and I was on my last pair of clean panties when I went to Lincoln’s game last night.
And those panties are nothing more than a distant memory. Just thinking about Lincoln right now has the tears streaming down my cheeks, wondering if that was all just some sort of a game. The way he took me to his place. They whole, ‘just until morning’ routine.
A week ago, I had it all planned. I was finally turning the corner in my life. Fulfilling dreams and promises I made to myself a long time ago. Now, it’s all falling apart, and I feel like I’m drowning. I’m not even sure where I’m going to sleep tonight. Or tomorrow.
My phone goes off in my backpack as I stand on the street, not sure what I’m doing there or where I should go. I reach in and grab it, seeing a number I don’t recognize. A single tear falls from my nose and plops onto the glass, distorting the message.
248-555-0900: Look up.
I raise my eyes, managing to stop the sob that tightens my chest, sure that it’s going to be yet more disappointment.
Then I see the black Lincoln.
Relief and disbelief wash over me. Lincoln is there, dressed in a white T-shirt, jeans, and a dark suit jacket, staring at me.
As soon as I catch a glimpse of those wild eyes, I’m reminded of just how he looked at me when he entered me for the first time last night. More than just lust. A deep longing that looked almost sad and pulled at my heart. A look that still elicits a moan from me, even across the traffic moving between us.
I watch as he brings his phone up and starts tapping the screen. A few seconds later, my phone dings and I read the message.
248-555-0900: Don’t move.
Me: Why are you here? And how did you know where to find me?
248-555-0900: You are even more beautiful in the daylight.
I look up to see a smile crest those magnificent lips. Lips that did things to me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes last night. Lips I wish were on mine right now.
Me: You are avoiding the questions, dammit!
248-555-0900: I’m not avoiding them. I’m tending to more important matters first. Making sure you know just how stunning you are.
Me: Okay. Well, I’m sort of busy.
I want him to leave almost as much as I want him here. I’m not certain what happened when I walked into that poker room last night, but my world has been upended, and I’m not even sure what’s real anymore.
Maybe he’s a mirage. Maybe I’m dreaming.
I reach down and pinch my forearm until I yelp, then my phone dings again.
248-555-0900: Don’t do that.
Me: Okay, listen. I’m not having the best day. So it’s been fun, but I have things to take care of.
Without another look, I stuff my phone back into my backpack and head north on West Fulton. There are few people walking around most of the time in this part of town, mainly because there’s not really anywhere to go. A few abandoned buildings dot the neighborhood, but overall, it’s just old and tired. No real shops or places to go, but I just know I need to move. To think. To figure out how to pick up the pieces of my life plan that have fallen around my feet in the last twenty-four hours.
I pick up my pace as I near the corner. There’s an alley that will take me back around to the apartment for another pass. Hopefully when I get back there, he’ll be gone, because just the sight of him is making me weak.
Making me want him.
And I have no room in my life for wanting anything right now, least of all him. I’m stomping each step. The grit of the sidewalk crunches under my fifty-cent white Keds I bought at the thrift store a year ago. One of my two pairs of shoes. The other are my work shoes.
The red Dolce pumps I wore last night. Keds and red pumps. That pretty much sums me up right there.
I hook my thumbs under the straps of the backpack and pull. I need to feel compact, under control. Something small, even. I need to hunker down and control at least this stupid backpack as it bounces, hitting just above my ass with each step.
I want out of this life, not back into the bed of the poster child for the gambling lifestyle.
My phone dings in my backpack. Twice. Then a third time.
As I round the corner, I drop a hand to touch the rough bricks of the building as I pass. The masonry scratches my fingertips as I turn into the darkness, my heart thundering in my chest, my face hot, even as the cool breeze in my wet hair. I’m halfway down the alley when I hear the squealing tires.
Brakes lock up just behind me, and there’s a slamming car door.
I should turn, but my forward motion compels me not to look back. I feel like I’m spinning in a hurricane with no way out. There’s no air here. And in the next second, I stop dead. I’m not sure why, but I know that no matter which way I turn, he’ll be there.
The next thing I know, there are fingers on my cheeks, making me shudder. He’s here, in front of me. His warm, masculine scent loops an invisible noose around my throat and begins to tighten. His lips come down on the crown of my head, then he whispers there, cool and soft.
“Why did you leave? When I woke up, you weren’t there. I’ve never felt so alone before. I hated that bed. That room. That fucking house. Because you weren’t there.”
“I left because my debt was paid. Wasn’t that the agreement? Just until morning, right?”
“I need more mornings. One will never be enough.”
I laugh. Not at him. But at this. The comedy of it. The cosmic joke that’s just been played on me. How is this happening to me now? I’m leaving in a few days. Well, that was the plan, at least. And now him? What have I done to deserve this kind of punishment?
His hands cup my cheeks and force my eyes up to his.
Just in that moment, I also remember his moving boxes and realize I don’t know this person at all, do I?
“Last night...it was just too much,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’ve never done that before. Spent the night with someone I barely know. Someone I just met. When the morning came around, I had to go. I have stuff to do. Being in your house, it just felt overwhelming. Waking up there, knowing what sort of life I had to come back to. I’m sorry, I just have a lot of things I have to do right now.”
“Whatever it is you have to do, I’m going to help you.”
“This is crazy. Why? Why would you help me? People like us don’t just do things for nothing, you know. And I gave you what you wanted last night. So what else is there? What, didn’t I do it right? Do you have some crazy fantasy that I have to fulfill before my debt is paid?”
There is a pain in his face, and I realize my words have hurt him. His jaw muscles tighten, and his hands slip from my cheeks, grazing down my arms until my fingers are entwined in his. Warm and firm as he steps into me.
“You are coming to breakfast with me. Then, lunch. Then, I’m going to pick you up for dinner. Same thing tomorrow. And the next day. You got that? Three days. You’ll know I’m not who you think I am. And then, if you still want me to leave you alone, so be it.”
Relief and disappointment fight for control of my thoughts as he continues.
“My heart will break, but I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you still want after three days. But for now, you will have breakfast with me.”
I should say no. I have to say no. I do have things to do. I have to figure out how to be on a plane with my tuition money. Not to mention, when I get there, I need a real job. No more hustling. No more wondering if it’s a week I get to go to the grocery store or not. I want something better for myself. For the promises I made to my mom.
“Okay.” The word falls from my lips, making my throat tighten. “On one condition.”
He raises his eyebrows, and that cleft in his chin shows up.
“What?”
“No matter what, I’m not fucking you.” I chuckle.
“I’ve heard that before.”
A smile breezes over his mouth, leaving me breathless. He’s so hard to fathom, that serene intensity, an intensity that could only come from living a life of careful calculation, but with a heart I’m beginning to realize is bigger than anything I’ve known before.
With that, his arm is around my shoulders, drawing me into him. His head moves, snapping back and forth, looking up and down the street. What he’s looking for, I’m not sure, but it feels protective, and I sense a deep breath release from my burning lungs.
Finally, I feel safe.
When we get to the car, he opens the door, lowers me in and buckles the seat belt around me. His lips come down to mine in a sweet, long kiss before he pulls back and brushes my crazy hair from the sides of my face.
“I meant it, you know.” He blinks, regarding my face before he continues. “You are even more beautiful in the daylight.”
C H A P T E R T W E L V E
Lincoln
I’m losing my fucking mind. Seriously, I’m not even sure what’s real anymore.
Every day of the last three, I have made her promise me just a little more.
Every minute of every day, I’ve pushed things further.
“Are you going to eat that?” Holli’s sparkling eyes bring a smile to my face as her fork hangs hopefully over the half-eaten cheesecake sitting on the white linen in front of me.
“No.” I shake my head, pushing the plate toward her. “You are.” She bobs her head gleefully, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips. “Careful. You’ll throw your neck out.”
This is our third lunch. I should be happy. I should be living in the moment.
But I’m not.
I’m fucking coming apart inside, and she has no idea.
“I really shouldn’t,” she says, skewering one oversized bite of the caramel–drizzled, three-inch-high decadence and closing her eyes gratefully as she pops it into her mouth.
“You should. And you will.” I lean back, watching how much she enjoys the food, remembering the first meal we had together three days ago.
I’d taken her to breakfast. I knew she hadn’t eaten enough because we’d been together the whole night before she left my snoring ass sleeping and tried to get away.
I chased her down. Finding out where she lives from a couple people I know who know Cruzer. Wasn’t that hard to track her down.
And, the first of our meals together happened. I was expecting her to order everything on the menu and then some dessert, but when she spoke to the waitress, I was disappointed.
She ordered a bowl of oatmeal.
Plain.
No sugar, cream, or honey.
Even now it makes me angry.
So when it came time for me to order, I held the menu up to the waitress, silently pointing to items, one after the other. A quizzical look came over the server at one point, but my serious stare told her to just bring the fucking food, which, about fifteen minutes later, she did.
Holli sat frozen as two servers filled our table with omelets, quiche, muffins, pastry, a bowl of Froot Loops, stacks of pancakes and waffles. After a bit of banter, Holli dug in with fervor, eating with such glee it made me grin like a proud father.
Making sure she knew in no uncertain terms, that I craved every curve on her body.
That was the last time I let her order for herself.
Watching her eat is just one of an infinite number of pleasures I’ve taken from her in the last three days.
Now, here we sit, and I’m filled with dread. I made her promise to give me three days; three meals each day with me and then she could decide if she wanted to see me again. But there was a truth behind the three days that went far beyond giving her time to make her decision. I thought it would give me time to figure this shit out. Instead, for the first time in my life, I can’t find a way out. At least not a way that keeps her safe.
My desperation to keep her in my life as long as I could overrode my logical mind. I just picked the number that seemed most logical, my calculating skills telling me I could figure this out if I just had a bit more time. Find a way. But here we are, hours from dinner, and I’m more at a loss than ever before.
Less than a day until my airline reservation sends me off to a new life.
I have to say, these three days have been by far the most joyful and significant in my life. We’ve not only eaten together, we’ve talked about nearly everything. We’ve made love in my car. At the penthouse. Back at my home. In the bathrooms at the restaurants. Even off the path in the park where we walk every afternoon after lunch.
It didn’t take much persuasion for our meals to turn to more. She sleeps at the house, then leaves after our breakfast every morning, heading back to her own apartment. It would bother me except that I’m so busy taking care of my business. It’s almost all wrapped up now, ready to turn over the reins of my poker rooms when I leave for good. Jesus. For good. And it would be good if not for what I’ve found with her.
Things have changed, and for once in my life, I have no idea how to fix it.
My phone buzzes in my inside suit pocket. The ringtone tells me who’s calling. I make it a practice never to take calls or answer texts when we are together, but this can’t wait.
“Excuse me, Kick.” I sigh.
She freezes mid-bite, surprised when I reach to take out my phone and push my chair back from the table. I step in beside her, running my hand down from the crown of her head to where her hair stops mid-back, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
Not wanting to leave her side, I let my lips linger there longer than usual, and she shifts in her seat, raising a hand to shield her mouth mid-chew when she asks, “Is everything okay?”
I like to think, in her mind, our three days of meals will continue into years. She’s become so comfortable that neither of us has dared speak the words out loud: that tonight, our dinner, is the last of our agreed-upon dates. And yet there is an assumption in the air, a hope that they will continue in perpetuity.
“Everything is fine,” I lie. I raise my chin to the waiter standing attentively off toward the edge of the restaurant. I speak in a low tone, knowing he will still hear me. “Get her anything else she wants.” I look back down at my angel, so unaware of the danger and heartbreak lurking just hours away. “I’ll be right back.” I’m a son of a bitch. The worst kind of asshole letting this go on without giving her the truth.
Four steps away from the table, I answer and bring the phone to my ear.
“What do you want?” I do nothing to hide the disdain in my voice. “My arrangements are made. We have nothing left to discuss.”
A maniacal chuckle comes through, followed by the sound of shuffling. Clearing his throat before he speaks, Rudolf’s voice comes through. “When you disappear, and even my people can find no trace of you, then we will have nothing left to discuss. Until that happens, we’re in bed. So stop with all the gumshoe drama. I’m just here to express my continued concern about how you are spending your time.”
My heart thunders in my chest. The subtle reference is not lost on me, and my mind spins in a fury, trying to find a way out of the windowless steel box that is quickly becoming my life.
“Don’t you even fucking breathe in her direction, motherfucker.” My anger rises, making each word clipped, my breath hot with rage. “I will end you. I promise. No hesitation, no use for my own life.”
Calm laughter greets me, and I swear I can almost hear him shrug with indifference. “You are becoming a very colorful bird, Kirk. What happened to the man of no emotion? Late in life to find your inner soft spot. Your Harlequin romance. Not healthy. For you or for—”
I cut him off as I shoulder open the front door to the restaurant and step outside. “Don’t even use a female pronoun. Do. Not. Push me.”
I pace the sidewalk, looking up and down the busy street. This part of town is full of ladies lunching and men with plenty of money and no W-2’s making quiet deals at restaurant tables.
The irony is,
disappearing was my idea at first, not his. My fresh start. I hopped into bed with this deal long before Holli flipped my world on its end. In this life, in this business, you are nothing if not a man of your word.
Even so, I considered rolling the dice. Telling Rudolf Meyer terms had changed. I’d still give him everything; the only change would be I was not going to ghost. I could never leave her, but now that his world has set its eyes on her, it’s not just about me anymore. If I don’t follow through and become a vapor of Lincoln Kirk, they have leverage, and my only choice seems to be make good on my deal.
But it means leaving her behind without a word. And I can’t do that.
Either way, I’m fucked.
Holli started asking about the moving boxes at the house. I made some shit up about downsizing. That I just hadn’t found a place yet but was putting a bunch of stuff into storage.
It wasn’t a complete lie.
The voice on the other end of the phone breaks into my thoughts.
“Just know you stick around, you take one penny out of my pocket, our deal is over. I’ll come for you. I’ll come for her. No soft spots here.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
I end the call, steadying my breath, unsure of everything in my life. My new life was supposed to be something good. A clean slate. Something to look forward to. And just a few days ago, it was. But now it’s no more than a black hole.
Back at the table, she’s leaning back in her chair, her hands rubbing her belly over the red wrap dress I gave her yesterday. She’s so stunning, my heart breaks at the thought I’ve put her in danger.
“We good?” she asks, looking like the cat that ate the canary.
“Yes.” Another lie, then in a split second, I make a decision. “I have some business that’s come up. It’s unavoidable. I have to cancel our dinner tonight.”
My heart finishes shattering as I see the disappointment cloud her eyes. Her walls immediately rise and solidify, I see it as plain as a sucker’s tell. Her Ellen Olenska persona takes point, and I hate that she feels the need to protect herself with me.