by J. Saman
“Can I still take you out on this date?”
“Seriously? You expect me to sit here on a date with you? This is the worst start to a date in the history of dating.”
“Probably, but you said you’ve never been asked out, so you really have nothing to compare it to. For all you know, all first dates start off with tears and demands.”
She laughs, and I stand up, because I can’t take this another second. I round the booth and squeeze myself in next to her, taking her arms and placing them around my neck. “You have a lot of ground to make up for,” she says against me.
“I know,” I tell her as I kiss the spot under her ear. “I’m really sorry I screwed this all up. But I’d still like to treat you to dinner, because the food here is too good to pass up, and then I want to watch the sunset and spend the evening with you.”
“But not the night?”
I draw back, catching her eye. “That an option?” I raise an eyebrow at her. Fuck all if my dick doesn’t react like it is. Like it’s a goddamn invitation.
“Isn’t it considered slutty to have sex on a first date?”
“Not in my book, but I’m a guy and generally, we’re into slutty. That said, slutty is not a word that could ever come to mind when I think of you. Ever. And to be fair, I made you breakfast that morning. I don’t count the shooting or the running, so this is sort of like a second date. You definitely have sex on the second date.”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I read in a book once that a girl should never give it up before the third date.”
“I’m gonna be honest with you here.” I cup her cheek, kissing her full, soft lips because they’re right there and I want to, and I don’t give a fuck if she is technically married. That asshole hit her. As far as I’m concerned, that voids out that forced piece of paper. “That’s a dumb ass rule. In fact, I don’t think it’s something that should be mapped out.”
“No?” she asks, her voice soft, her breaths coming out just a bit faster. Her pupils are dilated and her cheeks are flushed. God, this girl. She takes my breath away. She’s the reward. The peak at that top of the mountain. The oasis in the desert. The hidden cavern behind the waterfall. The one worth fighting for.
“Definitely not.” I kiss her again, sweeping my tongue in and tasting her sweetness. “I think spontaneity is the way to go.”
“I’ve never been spontaneous. Not a day in my life.”
“You should try it.” I smile against her lips, before I glide across her jaw, hovering over her ear. “Makes life more fun.” She shudders, and that shit drives me wild. If I don’t pull back this instant I’m going to tug her onto my lap in the middle of this restaurant for all to see. “Let me buy you dinner. Date number two. Proper date number one.”
She licks her lips as she opens her eyes. “Okay.”
“There will come a time with no more tears. And love and trust will not break your heart, or have you running. They’ll give you strength instead of fear. They’ll make you whole.”
She shakes her head at me like she doesn’t know what else to do. “God, Jake Turner, you might just be the best thing ever.” Funny, I feel exactly the same way about her. But even as I think that, stare into her pretty green eyes and fall just a bit harder, I wonder just how dark this is going to get for us.
Chapter Twenty
When Jake reacted to my name like it was poison on his tongue, making sneering comments about how my life of privilege was too much for me, I should have smacked him across the face and left. Because I shouldn’t be here with him. I shouldn’t be doing any of this. He’s right. I’m technically married. Even if I don’t think of myself that way.
I tried to divorce Niklas. It just didn’t go so well. In fact, it nearly cost me my life.
Does it count as a marriage if the guy only married the girl for financial gain and power? If it was bred under false pretenses? If the husband physically, verbally and psychologically abused the wife? I tend not to think so.
But being with Jake is different.
And I like it. No, scratch that, I love it. I love him holding my hand and being jealous of Niklas. I love the attention he gives me. The way he looks at me. No one in my life has ever made me feel like this. Ever made me feel like I was worth anything to them other than a negotiation tool. A commodity to be traded and used.
So, even though I shouldn’t be doing this, and I know it, and Jake most definitely knows it, I can’t make myself stop.
Dinner. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d never been out on a real date. I was with Niklas, legitimately, for four years. Four. Freaking. Years. Four years in a relationship without one real date that didn’t consist of a business dinner. Never once did he ever take me out for dinner just because. Or hold my hand because he enjoyed the way it felt. Hell, the man never kissed me unless he was planning on fucking me. Jake kisses me like he has no other choice but to kiss me. Like my kisses are the key to his sanity.
Before I was eighteen, Niklas and I were a secret. A secret I coveted. A secret that got me through my father’s maltreatment and my mother’s criticisms. Niklas was the epitome of charming.
But once my parents died and he married me…well…everything changed. Looking back, I realize the day he became CEO of Foss Industries was the day he stopped being the perfect husband and turned into the monster of my worst nightmares.
But here’s the thing. Niklas may be the CEO, making ridiculous money, but he comes from nothing. From less than nothing. His mother died when he was a newborn and his father died when he was ten. His aunt brought him to the States shortly after that and they lived in a studio apartment in the shit end of the Bronx. Money became an obsession for him. There was no such thing as enough.
Niklas does not consider himself a salary man. Not when he’s surrounded with the billionaires of the world. That’s where I came in, because not only do I have Ramsey money from my mother’s side, but I have Foss Industries and Foss money.
Now comes the kicker. My parents’ will dictated I had to be twenty-five to inherit fully.
Twenty-five. I’m twenty-two now and since I’m married to Niklas, he’s my next of kin. He’ll be the one to inherit if I’m dead. It’s how I know Niklas will come after me. It’s how I know he won’t stop until he finds me and lures me back. Because between Ramsey and Foss, well, I’m worth a lot. Enough to put Niklas at the top of any circle or power list he could ever want to be on.
But if I die before I’m twenty-five…good luck to him because that money ends up in probate, I guess. It’s why filing for divorce makes me a dead woman walking. He’d rather take his chances with a dead wife and probate than let me divorce him.
I never knew if his determination with owning me was a product of financial ambition or some obscure twisted affection. And if I’m honest, I still don’t.
Jake orders all kinds of food. I let him. I even smile when he does it in Spanish, even though I speak the language fluently. I like this date. He’s trying to impress me, and it feels genuine. He doesn’t care who I am. About my parentage or lineage. He talks to me like he’s interested. He asks me questions and leans forward every time I answer like he doesn’t want to miss a word that comes out of my mouth. He smiles and laughs and touches me whenever he can manage it.
As happy as I am in this moment, I’m also incredibly heartbroken.
It can’t last, can it? Not when Niklas Vaughn is searching for me.
Then there’s Brent. I lied when I told Jake that he didn’t say anything to me. He did. He said a lot of things. One of them was that I shouldn’t discount him so quickly. That I was doing myself a great disservice by doing that. Honestly, I wouldn’t have thought much of his statement if it weren’t for the way he said disservice. Like I was actually risking something by saying no to him. Like he knew exactly who I was and was giving me the chance to save myself through him.
And when he hugged me, he whispered in my ear that now that he’d found me, he wasn’t going to let me go. Th
at’s what brought me to tears. Because it didn’t feel like a threat.
It was a promise.
Jake and I don’t drink any wine with our dinner. We sip on sodas and water and then after Jake pays the bill, we get back on that bike of his, riding east at a million miles per hour until we begin to trail through mountains and other small towns, until finally, we reach the Valley of Fire.
It’s fairly empty here, probably because it’s summer in the desert, but Jake seems to know his way as he rides us into the park. There’s an observation area off to the right, but he bypasses it and continues on the road.
“Where are we going?” I yell. It’s the first time I’ve bothered to talk since we challenged the land-speed record for motorcycles. He doesn’t hear me. Or he feigns deaf because he doesn’t respond.
He just drives east a little longer and then stops on the side of the road. “Here,” he says, taking off his dust-covered helmet and helping me off the bike. I need to walk, so I’m grateful for the break. “This is us.” He removes my helmet for me and after I shake out my long hair, he takes my hand.
I stare in awe at the fiery red rocks and sandstone formations with brilliant contrasting colors of white, lavender, and purple. And when the setting sun hits them just right… Wow. There are no words for that type of glow. For that level of brilliance. The sun is a wonder. I now understand how this place got its name, because if I thought those rocks were red before, they are blazing fire now.
I can’t pull my eyes off them until I feel Jake’s fingers under my chin. He turns my face to his and then his lips are on mine once again. It’s a quick kiss, but no less passionate than any before it.
“You make it hard to breathe,” he says against my lips. “The sun has nothing on you.”
I want to laugh at that line. Poke fun at its cheesiness. But my barb is strangled silent in my throat as I catch his expression. Hell, he means it. And my heart is in so much trouble. I don’t know what to do with this. I’m a mass of conflicted anxiety. My brain is saying run. Hide. Get away. And my heart? God, it’s saying so many things. It’s like it’s finally woken up after hibernating for years and now it’s so voraciously hungry it can’t be denied.
He takes my hand and we climb some of the crazy rock formations. It’s incredible, one of the most magical places I’ve ever been. And when I’m sweaty and tired, we watch the sun set, the way it lowers in a ball of orange fire as the mountains engulf it, swallowing it down until there’s nothing left but the smallest remnants of its warmth and light. My body is tucked into Jake’s, much the way it was when we watched it rise, and once it’s securely behind the mountains, the light takes on a different form—softer, gentler, more intimate.
He guides me over to a small patch of earth. “I have a blanket,” he says. “We’re really not supposed to be here after dark, but I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“That depends on what we’re doing out here.”
“Having a picnic.” I stare at him and he gives me a cheeky grin like he’s reading my mind. “I can be romantic. Don’t let the motorcycle and tattoos make you believe otherwise.”
I never will again. He lays out a blanket in a flat spot of a large boulder with a perfect western view. He helps me to sit and then does the same, holding me close as we lay against the warm stone.
“Can we forego the picnic?” I ask hesitantly, not wanting to ruin the special moment he planned for us. “You just stuffed me beyond capacity.”
“We didn’t have dessert, but if you prefer to do that back in civilization, I’ll understand.”
“Civilization? Like your balcony?”
He rolls over to face me, propping his head up with his hand and grinning so big I can see his white teeth in the paltry remnants of daylight. “Yeah. Like there. I’ll happily feed you dessert there if you want.”
“I don’t know,” I say as my eyes take in all the spectacular nature around me. The stars are just starting to come out and already that show is something else. “I sort of like it here.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“How’s this then? We lay here until it’s good and dark, which won’t be much longer, and then we go back to my place. I cooked you breakfast, but I’m kick ass at pouring chocolate sauce over ice cream.”
“Is that right?”
“Without a doubt.”
“And what if I like caramel?
“Shit.” He laughs, hugging my body against his and locking those eyes on mine. “I don’t have any of that, but I can stop and get you whatever the hell you want.”
“Sounds perfect.” And it does. Too bad all this perfection won’t last.
Chapter Twenty-One
I don’t want to take her back to my place. I mean, I do. I’m dying to get her alone in my apartment again. But I also don’t. I want to take her up in a helicopter, so she can experience the strip and the mountains from the air. I want to take her to a private dining room in a five-star restaurant. I want to take her to a premier show and have us sit front and center.
And if she were just any other girl I was trying to impress, I’d do all of those things. But she’s not just any other girl. It’s why I’m glad I took her to Cuchi Cusina. It’s why I love that I took her to The Valley of Fire. She’s dined in the best restaurants. She’s flown in private planes and helicopters. She’s been to the best shows in the world, I’m sure of it.
But this is her first real date with a man. And I don’t think anyone has ever held her while they simply watched the sunset. And I don’t think anyone has ever put her on the back of a motorcycle. I bet no one has ever made her a damn ice-cream sundae before because it’s too prosaic for the likes of Fiona Foss. Vaughn, I correct myself. Shit. That one sucks.
But fuck all that other crap. These are the best kinds of dates. The very best of moments, and I’m spending them with her.
My father might have been in the same class as hers, financially speaking at least, but that’s not how I was raised. My mother was an elementary school teacher, and yes, my father did pay child support growing up, but I lived in a small two-bedroom house. I went to public school in a Baltimore suburb and shot hoops at the town courts. I didn’t grow up the way she did. My mother made sure of that. She wanted me to be a normal kid, and now, more than ever, I’m grateful to her for that.
I never turned into a Niklas Vaughn. I don’t know his background, but an obsession with money never dictated my life the way I bet it does his. I may have money now, but I know how to walk, how to live, on the real side of town. It’s where I’m most comfortable if I’m being honest. It’s why I still ride motorcycles and only wear expensive suits when I have to. Give me a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and I’m a happy man. Give me ice cream out of the carton and chocolate sauce over a soufflé or expensive pastry any day.
I think Fiona is like this, too. I think she wants simple. Easy. I can be that with her. I’m just not sure she’ll let me.
But right now, with this woman, I’ll take whatever I can get.
We don’t linger much longer. It’s dark as hell and I have no idea what sort of wildlife lurks out here. I get on the bike and help Fiona do the same thing, and then we take off, heading back west towards the bright lights of Las Vegas. Tonight might have been one of the best nights of my life, and hopefully, it’s not over yet.
That doesn’t stop my mind from going back to Gavin Moore. What am I going to do about him? I’m at a disadvantage, I realize. Because he’s got a purpose and I’m not exactly sure what it is. I mean, I can guess, right? I assume he’s after Fiona. I assume he’s working for her husband. But is he here to take her back to him? To kill her? And when does he plan to do this? Is he bringing her husband here to Vegas or is he kidnapping her?
I hate unknowns.
But that’s what everything with her feels like. An unknown.
I have work tomorrow. I’m a pit boss for a few hours and I’m wondering if it’s worth trying to find Maddox to tell him what’s goi
ng on. What I’m involved with.
I stop at a grocery store and Fiona and I run in for ice cream and caramel sauce. She’s a Phish Food girl, evidently, though it took her the better part of ten minutes to pick out a flavor she liked. I don’t think she’s ever had Ben and Jerry’s before. I’m a New York Super Fudge Chunk guy. Not a deal breaker, though. I can live with Phish Food. I still bought both, because I want her to try mine. We make it back to the garage at the hotel and I park the bike in its usual spot. I help her off and I take her hand and the bag of ice cream and we walk, hand in hand, back into the hotel, through the casino and over to my elevator.
“I have work tomorrow morning,” she says, her voice quiet. I wonder if she’s as exhausted as I am. I feel as though I haven’t slept in years.
“At the Bistro?” She nods. “I have work tomorrow, too.” She glances up at me. “I’m a pit boss for a few hours.”
“Then maybe I should go so we can get some sleep?”
I shake my head. “No. This date is not finished until we’ve had dessert.”
The elevator doors part for us and I tell her to go out on the balcony while I make the sundaes. She doesn’t argue, but she is more subdued than she was when we were watching the sunset. Her mind is working. Her wheels are spinning, and I know she won’t tell me why, no matter how hard I press. Time. It’s running out on me. At least, that’s how it feels. Like I’ll blink and she’ll be gone.
Everything feels like it’s moving in fast forward. Or maybe it’s just the contrast to how slowly my life was moving before. Before Fiona, my life was predictable. I’m not even saying that as a bad thing. It was just…life. I went through the motions, but emotionally, I was disconnected from it all.
And now? Now, everything seems to be coming at me all at once. All because I pulled over to help a stranded car on the side of the road.
I walk outside, the warm night air brushing across my face as I find her all the way down on the far side by the pool.