CUL-DE-SAC (On The Edge Book 1)

by YILDIRIM, M. E.

  The rear naked choke was often called the blood choke because it was one of those that impeded blood flow from the heart to the brain. A properly executed choke first caused compression of the jugular vein, significantly hindering blood return from the brain to the heart. The recipient began to feel flushed and swollen in the face and brow. Further pressure narrowed the carotid and reduced the blood flow to the brain.

  It was a deadly trap and Xan knew it well himself because it was one of his father’s favorite ways of grabbing him while he was explaining to his stunned and vulnerable son how easy it would be to end his miserable life right there and right then.

  The memory made him hiss out a breath and he locked his feet against the other male’s flanks, expanding his chest until The Wall started to tap out letting him know he had enough and was ready to give up and cave in.

  But Xan wasn’t ready to let go and at this point it was no longer important whether he held more onto the rival left at his mercy or the vicious memory from his childhood filled with violence.

  He looked down at his hands and saw his father’s instead and that sobered him up more than anything.

  He let go before the man could pass out… or die.

  The astounded silence that fell over the crowd told him that he wasn’t the only one who was worried about the final outcome of the grip. But then the audience started to roar and chant his name and it was business as usual.

  He had enough.

  Xan stepped out from the man and out of the ring heading toward his room heedless of being proclaimed a winner even though he cared about nothing more than that.

  But winning had its price, just like everything else. His body ached in this abstract way as if the brain didn’t connect all the dots, not recognizing it as his own pain yet. His stomach felt raw and unsteady.

  He felt raw and unsteady and he knew soon he would start to feel the aftereffects of the fight. All he wanted was a hot shower and to be left alone for an hour, or better yet for the remaining time of the night.

  “Fuck that. I’m too old for this shit,” he muttered angrily to himself, trying to cover up the fact he was shaken by his lack of self-control tonight.

  CHAPTER 13

  The state she was currently in was truly ridiculous, Catalina decided, looking at the pitiful condition of her bedroom. Clothes, shoes and accessories strewed every inch of the room mercilessly, taunting her efforts to find the perfect outfit for dinner with Xan.

  She placed her right hand on her midsection hoping it would help to settle her stomach, but it was clenched tightly with nerves yet again and the feeling was stubbornly refusing to abate.

  It was not only hard to understand it, it was impossible to accept it, she thought.

  Catalina Bennett, known for her impeccable taste, for choosing the best attire for every occasion, has faltered in her faultless ways, she taunted herself inwardly. How could she let something as ordinary as dinner with a man grow out of proportion? She asked herself for the tenth time but the mocking silence was still her only answer.

  She had no idea where he was going to take her, so she could complain about not knowing what to wear.

  Except… she had never had the problem before, not sparing more than five minutes of her time to come up with an idea for a dress no matter the circumstances. Rationalizing something that went beyond sensible didn’t offer any answers and although she had never been the kind of woman to avoid what was not understandable, she decided to make an exception this one time.

  She regretted her hasty agreement, wanted to call the whole thing off more times than she cared to admit to.

  So what if she wanted him to model for her?

  There were plenty of people she could find and who would probably be happy to do it. But then if that was not the reason to meet up with him, what was?

  She categorically denied her interest could reach some private level.

  Catalina was not so sure what her answer would be right now if he were to ask her out again. Likely refusal, she thought, but his nonconformance felt too tempting against her skin and she simply couldn’t bring her curiosity to heel.

  That and the fact that at the night of the exhibition she had felt out of sorts for too many reasons she didn’t even want to reconsider, and he seemed so indifferent to everything that surrounded them she started to… envy him what she perceived as freedom.

  It was Xan’s raw masculinity that snatched her away from the thoughts she was deeply plunged in and made her focus on him instead of counting all the things she was not and could never be.

  Cat sighed looking at herself in the mirror.

  The short summer dress she chose was more on the casual side but wouldn’t raise any eyebrows in case they were going somewhere on the more sophisticated side. The blue color complimented her eyes and she thought there was a chance, no matter how slight, it could have earned Florence’s approval too.

  Apparently pretending her grandmother’s opinion didn’t count at all was futile. Catalina made a face at her own reflection in the mirror and went back to assessing her outfit.

  High heels could make things tricky for her, she thought but she remembered Chloé’s flattering remarks regarding her legs and was not going to replace the heels with something safer and more comfortable.

  Instead of tying her hair in some sublime and complicated way, she let it tumble onto her arms and back. For some reason she felt less… exposed with her hair unbound and something told her she might need every advantage while facing this specific male.

  She drew in a breath, thinking she looked a bit untidy compared to her usual mien, but perhaps more like someone who was about to spend a night out with Xan. The idea calmed her a little but then the frail composure shattered pitilessly when a knock came at her door, heralding the arrival of a very punctual man.

  Cat appreciated this quality in people.

  She walked through her house and opened the door with a ready smile on her face just when he was raising his hand to knock one more time.

  Whatever words of her welcome were going to be, they froze on the tip of her tongue and fell away like shards of ice.

  His jaw was bruised, not in a heavy way but enough to make her take notice, and it went dangerously hand in hand with the blackness of his shirt, marking him exactly for who he was: a man capable of violence.

  She thought there was something wrong with her first reaction because regret pierced her for not having her camera next to her.

  “Would you like to come in?” She stepped slightly aside but not before peering into his eyes and nearly staggering under the strength of emotions pouring out of his hooded gaze.

  “Are you sure you didn’t just change your mind about going out with me?” He asked her.

  Xan looked straight into her eyes but then his gaze, having a mind on its own, slid down her body taking the view in.

  The simplicity of her dress drew his attention more than if she had put on a show and decided to emphasize her body or money.

  The very fact she hadn’t, said all about her class. And there was no doubt she had money. He knew it before but would have lost the last scraps of doubt after seeing her residence situated next to the beach with a great view of the ocean.

  Why would someone like her want to go out with him, especially when he looked like a thug with a vivid mark of his origins and activities? He kept asking himself this and similar questions while he was driving here and still couldn’t find one damn good answer that could work in his favor.

  “I’m not that fickle, I don’t change my mind so easily,” she assured him, trying to ignore the pinpricks of foreboding clinging to her skin along with the faintest trail of warning enclosed in his words.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me about it?”

  “Do you feel like telling me?” She didn’t think she had a right to ask any kind of personal questions and politeness alone suggested she refrained from it as well.

  Besides, the assumption it had something to
do with his latest fight was quite obvious.

  “Nothing to tell really.” Yet his lips quirked at the corners in reaction to her perverse question.

  This was the side of her he wanted to explore. Preferably naked, Xan thought. Discouraging her from the get-go wasn’t going to get him there.

  “I’ve made a reservation at Josie’s.”

  “Sounds good, I like it there.”

  It didn’t surprise him she knew the place although he wasn’t sure should he believe the second part of her statement. It was elegant but not overly, leaning toward cozy and homey rather, in his opinion.

  Not the words that came to his mind when he looked at the woman in front of him.

  “Let’s go then.” He pointed behind him and she saw the sleek lines of a black Jaguar.

  The fact that it wasn’t a two door sport type worked in his favor, she decided. The brand seemed oddly fitting to him because Xan definitely shared some qualities with the lethal animal, in her opinion.

  Catalina shook her head, wondering where those kinds of thoughts were coming from, but decided she had a few hours to find answers to this and other pressing matters as far as he was concerned.

  “I’m ready.” She smiled wondering, was she really?

  ***

  Josie's was a beautiful restaurant at the southwest corner of 25th and Pico Blvd. On a weekday evening like tonight, there was generally ample street parking available within a few blocks on Pico at meters that were free after six p.m.

  The first noticeable thing after entering chef and owner Josie Le Balch’s restaurant was the row of copper pots hanging over the stoves in the open kitchen. They were not only beautiful but also symbolic and not merely a reflection of the era of old-school French cooking that the owner stood for and innovated. The pots were a bow toward that history and its technique, but also leaning in the direction of Josie’s own history since they belonged to her father.

  It was one of Catalina’s favorite restaurants in Santa Monica.

  The atmosphere was relaxing and warm, contrary to so many other places. It was chic but not gaudy. The dining room and bar were kept in comforting shades of brown and white with elegant touches of soft lighting and luscious fabric.

  It was a place where a person could not only eat delicious food but also rest from the outside world, in Cat’s opinion.

  Except today she felt anything but relaxed, due to Xan’s electrifying presence at her side.

  The distance between the restaurant and her house had never felt longer than today and the drive settled heavily on their shoulders.

  Or perhaps it was just her.

  Xan seemed immersed in his inner thoughts so there was not much to be said between them. Neither gave the impression they wanted to divulge some secrets at the moment, and the topic of weather or traffic felt too desperate to reach for, although Catalina reserved her right to use it later if things were going to continue looking the way they did.

  She didn’t have a key to a man like Xan, but that didn’t make her want to give up. On the contrary she found him only more intriguing for that very reason instead.

  She felt his gaze swerving from the road ahead several times and moving onto her as if in question but his lips remained sealed, leaving her prey to the gods of guessing.

  Cat had had numerous diners with different men and even though it had been a while since the last time, she remembered they were nothing like the present one. But then she was always going out with males who were predictable.

  Xan was a wild card in her eyes, constantly making her second guess every gesture, every single word.

  She couldn’t recall ever being so conscious of herself and her surroundings. She didn’t even have her camera with her, which could ease her somewhat, or make her hands busy in the very least.

  They were smoothly led to their table and given menus but she kept peering at it absently only because it seemed like the right thing to do at the instant. Yet her gaze was moving from one option to another without paying much heed to anything in particular.

  “Did you consider my offer?” She asked when her nerves became as taut as a piano wire and she couldn’t take the prolonging of the silence any longer.

  “What offer would that be?” He looked at her, thinking that the evening had barely started and Catalina already looked ready to bolt at the first opportunity.

  He couldn’t blame her; he knew his thoughts were miles away, making him seem absentminded and women like her were used to constant attention.

  “A session,” she reminded him, although the very fact he didn’t even remember this part of their conversation said it all.

  “I’m not a model material, Doll.” Did she really think he would consider that? He wondered.

  “My camera doesn’t agree with you,” she informed him trying to pretend the nickname didn’t set her teeth on edge… again.

  It felt surreal to be talking about taking photographs of him so casually, as if that night at the club and his violent reaction hadn’t happened at all or even if it had–it was in another lifetime at least. Considering their first meetings, they shouldn’t have been even sitting in here.

  Together.

  On a date.

  Yet here they were, and Cat couldn’t wait for the ordered wine to arrive fast enough. It was not that the time with him was so unpleasant that she needed to wash away the bad taste it gave her with alcohol.

  No, it was not that at all.

  It was about the whole unnerving situation they found themselves in. There were myriads of pent up emotions pulsating under his skin while he tried his best not to show any of it.

  Her susceptibility to all the things he left unsaid, considering the fact she didn’t even know him, couldn’t be explained either.

  It was laughable they were sitting in here pretending they had anything in common while she felt as if there wasn’t literally even one subject they could agree on.

  CHAPTER 14

  “Are you going to tell me your name?” She asked when another bout of silence fell upon them.

  “What is wrong with Xan?” He raised one eyebrow looking as arrogant as ever.

  “Nothing, but it’s only fair since you know mine… not that you would use it,” she muttered and he chuckled.

  “Do you think a name defines a person?” He tried his best to refute this one but he felt his father’s brand imprinted on his very being.

  The brand made an appearance in those moments he naively thought himself rid of it and in control.

  Moments like last night.

  “There are many things which do, name is the most obvious one.”

  “Xan Thorpe.” He couldn’t see any harm in telling her that.

  “Was it so hard?” Catalina wanted to know.

  “Did it change anything?” He answered with a question of his own.

  “Yes, I no longer feel like you are unreal.”

  In any other situation, with any other person in his place, her answer could have been considered romantic. They were both aware that was not the case in here.

  He reached over the table and covered her hand with his own.

  “Is it real enough for you?” He looked straight into her eyes and saw her consternation before she could conceal it.

  Her bones felt delicate and fragile, her skin soft, but he couldn’t enjoy it for long because she slipped her hand from under his.

  “Yes, thank you,” Catalina said and was surprised she managed the cool tone of voice when she felt flushed. “I won’t share your identity with anyone, you know. I never do,” she told him in case he was worried about it.

  “How often do you find yourself in situations where you are forced to use this ethic rule of yours?” He didn’t delude himself that it was the first time she chose a dangerous path, but now he started to suspect this was her usual way.

  The question was why?

  Did society bore her to a degree where she felt like reaching for forbidden fruit once in a while? He cou
ld offer her an adventure or two if that meant enjoying her lithe little body in return.

  After all, he had nothing more to give to anyone, and why did something that had been his only truth throughout his entire life suddenly have the capacity to piss him off?

  “Define often?” She smiled brightly at him but he was not fooled.

  “Too often it means.” Xan decided.

  “Hey! I resent that. Photography is more to me than pretty flowers and smiling children. You need to go further in order to find this more. Did you lose your last fight?” She asked against herself forgetting she wasn’t supposed to be nosy.

  “Why would you think so?” He tilted his head regarding her curiously.

  “The bruising… and your mood.”

  “I don’t have a habit of losing.” Xan decided to ignore the part about his mood.

  He knew he might have come across as broody today, but he didn’t appreciate her pointing it out. He should have called her and cancelled their date but he knew it was unlikely she would have agreed to go out with him on another occasion. She only did this time around because he took her by surprise, he supposed, and he was not known for wasting opportunities.

  Although it felt as if he were doing it now, he admitted.

  It should have sounded superior, the way he said it, but somehow that wasn’t how she took his answer, Catalina thought. It was more of a statement than showing off, which made her believe him instantly.

  “What made you interested in fighting in the first place?” Catalina assumed that asking him about it was the safest route to take, since it was logical to assume it was something he seemed good at and passionate about.

  Besides, it was the only side of him she had seen so far.

  “Isn’t it every boy’s dream?” His answer was yet again answered with a question of his own and she knew it was a maneuver people used when they didn’t want to give anything personal away.

  “I don’t know, I have never been one.” She was growing weary of carrying the weight of this conversation on her shoulder.