by Kelly Favor
At five o’clock, she was done.
Greg stopped by her cubicle as she was shouldering her purse and turning off her computer.
“How many files did you do today?” he asked, scratching his jaw and then giving an exaggerated sniff, as if he didn’t even like how she smelled.
“I’m not sure. Maybe forty-five?”
Greg nodded his head. “That’s okay, if you actually did that many. Tomorrow I want you to send me the updated spreadsheet so I can look at your progress.”
“Okay, sure.” She tried to smile but he didn’t even look at her, just glanced away.
“And try and get some sleep, Connor. That way I won’t feel like I’m talking to a zombie.” He sniffed the air again and then left.
“Have a nice night!” she called after him, rolling her eyes.
A moment later, she was leaving, making sure to wait long enough that she wouldn’t have to share an elevator with her boss.
Once she got outside the building, Faith breathed a deep sigh of relief. Then she managed to catch the bus just in time, and she rode that out to the T, which she took three stops, got off and walked to the Super Stop and Shop.
Faith got a couple bags of groceries and then walked about a mile home to her apartment.
She was completely spent by the time she got home and put her groceries away. But Faith still needed to eat, so she quickly boiled some water and made Mac & Cheese, which she ate in front of her computer, watching yesterday’s press conference from the New England Nationals website.
When Chase Winters spoke to the press, he was wearing a Herringbone coat and a white sweater beneath it. He looked elegant and refined, and yet those dark eyes still had the dangerous gleam that she remembered all too well.
The media, it was clear, loved Chase. He was able to play their game, joking when it was warranted, giving serious analysis of his mistakes and accomplishments. Of course, he downplayed his own role in the win and gave all due credit to his teammates.
I wonder, she thought, as she chewed her macaroni and stared at her computer screen, if he’s thinking of me when he should be focused on his press conference. Did he think about me at all during the game? Maybe when he was on the sidelines, did he scan the crowd for me?
She knew it was ridiculous, but just the idea of it made her skin tingle.
The notion that the quarterback of The Nationals would have any thought of her in his head was beyond silly, except that he had. He’d texted her, hadn’t he? And then he’d answered the phone when she called him back.
Maybe it didn’t make sense, but it had happened.
Once she was done eating, she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, but instead she decided to take a shower. After she was done showering, she brushed her hair and listened to more sports radio, smiling every time someone mentioned Chase’s name.
It was only after she’d been brushing her hair for a little while that she realized she’d left her phone in the bathroom.
Faith slid off her bed and went into the bathroom, grabbing the phone, not expecting to see a missed call or any texts, unless maybe it was something from her sister or parents.
But when she picked up the phone and checked it, Faith was shocked to see a missed call from him.
Chase Winters had called her and she’d missed it!
“Shit, shit, shit!” she said, looking around, as if there was someone nearby who could advise her what to do.
He hadn’t left a message, and the call had come through about seven minutes ago. No voicemail, no text. Just that one missed call.
Maybe it was accidental?
She shifted back and forth on her feet, staring down at the missed call on her cell and trying to decide what to do. Finally, she opted to simply text him back.
Hey. Did you just call me?
After hitting send, she squealed and then ran back to the bedroom and dove face-first onto the bed.
She could hardly take the waiting for a response. It must’ve been a mistake—there was no way he’d have called her again so soon—or ever, for that matter.
Why was he calling her, anyway? Was this some kind of weird mind game or something?
And then a text came through.
Yeah.
That was it. Just one word. Yeah. No follow up. Nothing explaining it.
So she started typing again.
Did you want to talk to me?
She hit send again.
Faith’s cheeks felt flushed and her body temperature was rising. She wondered where he was, what he was doing right then, who he was with.
His response this time was much quicker.
I was going to invite u over.
Faith stared in complete and utter shock at what he’d sent. Everything was tingling now, like her skin was on fire. Already, she was half-crazy with desire and excitement, anticipation and fear, and nothing had really even happened yet.
But she kept picturing him in that towel, and his strange tattoos, the look in his eyes, the way his lips had felt when he’d given her the sexiest, hottest kiss of her life, bar none.
She’d been about to reply to his latest text, but it had been taking her a moment to come up with the right mix of flirty but not desperate banter.
Only in that time, he’d written her again.
Text me ur address
Faith’s eyes felt like they might just come out of her head. Chase Winters wanted to know her address. This couldn’t be real, he had to be messing with her. And what would he do with the information if she gave it to him?
She was so scared of everything, and him most of all. Chase wasn’t safe, he wasn’t some normal guy, and she couldn’t be sure of his intentions. But at the same time, Faith knew that she was powerless to resist him, she knew that ultimately she’d give him whatever he wanted.
If there had ever been a chance for her to get away from him unscathed, that had all ended when he’d given her that kiss yesterday. After that one kiss, all hope of escape had vanished.
She already knew she was caught, trapped like a scared little rabbit. Faith texted him her address against her better judgment.
“Oh my God,” she muttered, trying to calm her nerves and failing miserably. She stared at her cell phone, her eyes glued to the screen, waiting for his next volley. She could hardly sit still, trying to anticipate why he’d asked for her address.
Well, obviously he wants to know where you live, maybe in case he decides to make a booty call one of these days.
Or perhaps he wants to send you flowers.
Don’t be an idiot, don’t be naïve. Chase Winters doesn’t seem like the “sending flowers” kind of guy, does he?
No, he didn’t seem like that kind of guy, she decided. But then again, she barely knew anything about him, other than what she’d gleaned from a quick Google search and some of the discussions about his life on sports radio.
Supposedly he’d grown up in a rough part of Detroit without a father, his mother had been addicted to drugs. Chase had been forced to care for his younger brother and had used football as a way out of a tough situation.
Apparently, he was now even putting his younger brother through college.
Faith related to some of Chase Winters’s story, as did many others who loved him for what he represented, what he’d overcome in his young life. They said he was even religious, although he tended to keep his religious upbringing and convictions largely to himself.
But none of these details had much to do with the attraction Faith felt to him, because up close yesterday, all she’d felt was the pull of his body, his intense animal charisma and power.
He was all brute force, muscle and masculine energy, coiled and tied up in that phenomenal physique with a face that was already gracing magazine covers from Sports Illustrated to GQ.
Chase Winters had officially arrived, and somehow he’d arrived not just in the public consciousness, but in Faith’s life as well.
Still, she hadn’t heard anything back since
texting him her address.
After a few more minutes of endless waiting, she texted him and asked why he’d wanted to know where she lived.
There was no reply for a long time, so she held onto her phone as she went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, brushed her hair a little more, and then got into her shorts and t-shirt for bedtime.
She’d been checking her cell phone every minute or two and still there was no response from Chase, so Faith figured she’d better not bother him again. He was busy, after all, a superstar who had lots of demands on his time.
It was crazy enough that he’d texted her a few times tonight, no matter how brief.
And he asked where you live, don’t forget.
There was that, too. Faith wished she had someone she could talk to about this. Definitely not her sister, Krissi. That would’ve been weird.
But maybe one of her friends from back home. Most of her old friends from high school had stuck around, just like so many did who came from Newburg. It was a small town with middle-class folks who were proud of their community and their roots, like her dad and mom.
She was still pretty good friends with a few of them, girls like Haley and Jena.
But if Faith had told either of them, they’d have flipped out and made her feel completely nuts, or nervous, or both. Haley’s brother was a huge New England Nationals fan and Jena was a gossip.
Neither one of them could be counted on to keep this big a secret.
As she was going over this in her mind, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, she heard a buzz and felt the phone shaking in the palm of her hand.
Eyes wide, she lifted her head to look at the screen of her cell. The words were absolutely horrifying.
Out front now.
“What the hell?” she yelled, as if the phone could answer her back. She jumped up, like she’d been given an electric shock, then ran to her bedroom window, crouching down and peeking down at the street, trying her best not to be seen.
There was limousine parked in front of her apartment complex.
It had to be a coincidence. Had to be.
And then she looked at her cell phone, where the text stood out in stark lettering against the white background.
Out front now.
Faith peered down again at the stretch limo, in all its black glittering slickness, like a reflecting snake, poised outside, waiting to strike.
Why would he have shown up unannounced like that?
Faith slid down to the floor and felt herself beginning to hyperventilate.
Her phone buzzed again, and she almost couldn’t look at it, but finally she squinted at the cell phone.
U home?
Faith typed a quick reply. Yes.
Come see me.
He was chatting with her now in real time. Faith’s nipples hardened beneath her t-shirt, and she felt her clothing rubbing against her bare skin. She wasn’t wearing a bra, or panties.
And Chase was down there right now while she was semi-naked.
Her lips formed an involuntary smile as she texted him back immediately.
I’m not dressed to go out.
There was a slight pause and then: Come now.
It was statement, but more than that, it was a warning not to play around. Faith’s smile dwindled as she studied his text. Should she push back, play hard to get? Refuse?
He hadn’t given her any time to prepare, to get ready, choose an outfit, nothing. And she’d have needed like a week minimum to have gotten even close to ready to go out on a date with Chase Winters. Maybe even a year wouldn’t have been enough, because Faith would have ideally liked to spend at least that long training, toning up, tightening her butt and thighs and stomach to try and be worthy of his time.
As it was, he hadn’t even given her long enough to do her hair, makeup, and perhaps wash one of her better outfits.
This simply wouldn’t do, she thought. It was late at night and he’d sprung this limousine on her as—what? Some kind of sick prank?
Was he trying to make a fool of her?
Was this like one of those movies where the popular guy goes after the dorky girl on a dare or a bet or something?
She hated this. She was scared, as usual, and her hands were shaking.
And then, to top it all off, he texted her again.
Limo departs in 5 minutes with or without u.
What the heck was he doing? Threatening her?
And then she realized, that was exactly what he was doing. He was the one holding all the cards and he was giving her a choice to either get on the train or it was going to depart the station without her.
“Fuck.” She stood up and stared down at the menacing black automobile. “Fuck,” she said again, and then she began running around like a madwoman, trying to make herself presentable before the limousine took off without her.
As she was rummaging through her closet, the phone shook again with a new text.
4 minutes.
Great, now he was giving her a countdown on top of everything else. This was probably just hilarious to him, she decided. Maybe he was even telling some of his football buddies about how he was torturing this poor, dumb girl into thinking she actually had a chance with him.
But there was no time now to pause and think, or complain. Faith took off her shorts and t-shirt and put on a pair of skinny jeans and a white blouse that she had gotten as a birthday gift and still hadn’t worn yet.
No time like the present, she thought.
And then a new announcement courtesy of her cell phone and Chase Winters.
3 minutes.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” She slid on a pair of heels and ran into the bathroom to try and apply some lipstick. No time for much else.
When she was done, she looked at herself, made a smile, a sexy face, and decided that as horribly unprepared as she felt, there was simply nothing to be done about it.
Faith turned and ran out of the bathroom, grabbed her purse, and nearly fell in the kitchen as she continued running.
Stumbling, a new text from Chase alerted her to the fact that she now only had two minutes left.
“Shut up!” she screamed at the inert cell phone, and then bolted out of the apartment, locking the door as quickly as she could, before sprinting down the two flights of stairs. As she ran down, she was still holding onto her phone, glancing at it to see any texts that might come through.
At the second to last step, she tripped and the cell phone flew out of her hand and smacked the floor, sliding and coming to rest up against the wall.
Faith couldn’t believe her bad luck, as she knelt down and picked up the phone, seeing the inevitable spirals of jagged cracks in the face of it. Her eyes began filling with tears.
It was broken and she didn’t have the money to replace it.
But a moment later, as she hesitantly used the very tip of her finger to gently tap the cracked screen, she saw that somehow the phone was still working. It was just obscenely difficult to read and if she wasn’t careful, she could cut herself on the cracks in it.
Other than that it’s absolutely as good as new, she thought with the sarcastic voice in her head.
Just then, another text came through.
1 minute, was all it said.
She had to laugh now. This was just too much.
By the time she got out to the curb where the limousine was waiting, her chest was heaving and she was sweating.
The driver got out, came around, tipped his cap to her, and opened the door for her. “Please, make yourself comfortable,” he told her.
Faith peered inside and didn’t see anything but a long seat stretching into infinity. “Where’s Chase?” she asked.
“I’ve got orders to bring you to Mister Winters,” the driver replied.
“Wait a minute. He’s not even in the car?” she asked in disbelief.
“Please, ma’am. We’re on a very tight schedule.”
“We are?”
He nodded, his eyes unreadable. �
��Yes.”
Faith texted Chase now, her fingers flying as she angrily wrote to him.
Is this some kind of sick joke u’r playing on me right now??? U aren’t even here?
“Ma’am,” the driver said again.
“Hold on,” she told him, and gave him a look that said she meant business.
Chase replied. Get in the limo. Don’t make any trouble.
That was his response. He sounded like a kidnapper. She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but of course, she wouldn’t ever do that.
She only had to picture his naked torso, those muscles, the smooth skin rippling over abs that were like steel, and a chance to perhaps touch those tattoos, kiss them, while he told her what each one signified…
“I guess I’m going,” she announced, trying to appear proud, but the driver couldn’t have cared less.
She got in and he shut the door softly after her.
The limo ride was relatively uneventful, given the fact that it was her first time ever in a limousine. But she couldn’t enjoy it, not when she was going god only knew where, to meet him.
To meet Chase Winters, the man whom everyone was talking about.
And she didn’t at all feel up to the task.
What does he even want with me? Does he actually want to have sex with me?
She couldn’t believe that he would. After all, he was a guy who could literally sleep with almost any woman he wanted, just pick them off the street—or more likely, the runway.
He was the kind of man who would and should date models.
So then why me?
She hadn’t the faintest idea. But nothing her mind could conjure up made her feel any more at ease, because there was simply no good scenario here.
And yet she couldn’t stop, couldn’t say no, couldn’t turn away either.
Chase hadn’t continued texting her, so there was truly no relief for her worried brain. Her phone was menacingly silent now.
When the limo came to rest in front of a large brownstone in Beacon Hill, Faith clutched her purse. “Are we here?” she asked.
The driver answered by getting out, coming around and opening her door again to let her out. “It was a pleasure,” he lied.