by Adair Rymer
Of course.
“C'mon, pup,” Arsen said to Romeo, patting him on the side. “We should go before I do something really stupid. Like fuck my stepsister.”
Woah, hearing the words out loud shot firecrackers through my skin!
I shivered at the thought of him turning back toward me and pushing my wet, naked body up against the wall and fucking me like I knew we both wanted.
I desperately tried not to glance back at him as he left, but my eyes betrayed me. He looked just as good from behind, with his broad, colorfully tattooed back and his tight, meaty ass. My body ached for his touch. I wish I had the nerve to tell him to stay.
I snapped my eyes back to the wall when I saw him look me over one last time before leaving.
“You look damn good, Val,” he said. “You leave too many doors open and I might not be able to control myself.” Arsen closed the door behind him.
The glass shower wall kicked on and turned opaque.
Later that morning.
Wearing the thickest, most unappealing sweater I could find, I slid a written document across my kitchen island to where Arsen was sitting drinking his coffee. It was a titanic effort to leave my room this morning at all. The old me wanted to waste away and never come out, the new me... also wanted to waste away and never come out.
But somehow, here I was.
He eyed me with a mix of amusement and what I kind of hoped was attraction, despite myself and everything that happened. I still couldn't believe he saw me like that!
“House rules,” he read, a slow smile creeping along his face. He cleared his throat and corrected himself. “Fifty seven house rules.” He flipped through both pages. “Seriously?”
I put on my sternest face. “Seriously. You are my employee and if you're going to be staying in my house, there are rules.” I had to deal with so many contracts over the course of my career that he was lucky I was able to pair it down to just fifty seven.
Arsen snorted, “Sure thing, Dad.” He scanned the papers. “'Both upper and lower garments must be worn at all times... Fabric must not be further from the wrist or ankle by more than three inches...” Arsen tossed the papers onto the island dismissively. “This is a bit much, isn't it?”
Now that I heard some of it out loud, maybe I did go a little overboard on the list. Getting back to sleep was laughable, so I needed something to keep my brain occupied. Or else I was going to lose my mind over what happened.
“Why don't we just talk about what happened?” Arsen walked over to my side of the island and leaned on the counter top, inches from me. I could feel the heat wafting off his body, tempting me.
“I only saw those perfect tits of yours, Val,” He leaned closer, his breath a hot whisper on my neck. “It's not like I buried my face between your legs and made you come until your eyes crossed.”
A heady rush threatened to unravel me at the seams. God damn him for putting that image in my mind! I could almost feel his stubble grazing my inner thighs. My nipples hardened beneath my thick sweater. Was I really wet again, already?
“Nothing happened, Arsen. And nothing ever will happen.” And I sure as hell was not going to discuss it, ever. I stormed off back to my room. He was the one person I never stopped thinking about and he was here in my house! For my own sanity, I needed to be mad at him right now.
Otherwise, I was going to explode and make every bad decision possible.
“At least read number forty three for the party tonight.” I shouted back at him from the stairwell.
“What party?”
Chapter 6
Arsen
Past
“Yeah, Stacy's party,” I repeated. “Are you going?”
“That's not really my kind of scene. Did you watch my rehearsal?” Val looked at me warily as I held the auditorium door open for her.
It was cold and gray outside. It hadn't snowed yet, but you could tell that it was right around the corner. It wasn't technically winter yet, but New England didn't give a shit about what season it was supposed to be. It was the one thing I was looking forward to leaving behind when Dad came home and we were forced to move. I fucking hated the cold.
“Wrestling training got out early.” I lied. “I just caught that end bit, where you talk for a while, then off yourself.” I'd actually seen the whole thing, like I'd seen all of her rehearsals.
When drama started up at school, I sat in on her first practice. I was planning to return the favor for her coming to my games. She was my good luck charm, I never seemed to lose when she was around.
But the first time I got here and started watching her, I quickly realized that she didn't need me the way I needed her. Val was so focused and in the zone that she never glanced at the mostly empty auditorium.
Not that she'd see me if she looked anyway, I hung near the janitor's access and left right as she finished.
The second time I went was more for a break in the constant attention that surrounded me. Drama club wasn't popular with the crew that I hung out with, so it was nice to just disappear for a while, and not be bothered.
Ever since then, I came back because she was really talented and I liked watching her act. Of course, I couldn't tell her that without sounding like a puppy and hurting my rep. When she was on stage, she became this different person, she was calm and confident.
It was really fucking hot. I knew there was a hot chick buried in there somewhere, but she was always a friend first and up until then, I never thought of her any other way. Talking to Val made me start to see how hollow the In click was. Even when I fucked my way through most of that crowd, I started seeing Val's face in my mind more and more.
Maybe I was just cursed to always want what I couldn't have. It was uncharted territory for me. When I thought of leaving this school, the only thing that really stung me was the thought of saying goodbye to Val.
“I don't know how you do it, Arsen. You make Romeo and Juliet sound even more romantic.” Val clutched her jacket, gloved hands over her heart, and sighed dramatically.
“Shut up, drama girl.” I playfully shoved her. Our feet crunched along the frozen grass as we made our way to guest parking on the other side of the field. “And stop changing the subject. Who gives a fuck if you weren’t invited, just show up.”
“You're kidding, right?” Val laughed, then took on a joking tone. “You're THE Arsen Constantine, you go anywhere you want and no one says anything. They'd probably even let into the girl's locker room, if you asked.”
“That was only one time, and I definitely was not allowed in there.” I flashed her a joking smile, then switched back to the subject a third time. “Popularity isn't about who you are, It's about who people think you are. You're an actress, Val, and a pretty good one. Stacy's party is just another scene in this high school play.
“Actor,” she corrected. “It's a gender-neutral term.” I rolled my eyes at her obvious attempt to change the subject yet again, but didn't say anything else. Realizing she had to say something, I saw that the gears in Val's head were turning as she mulled it over. “You make it all sound so easy.”
“You're the daughter of the most in-demand actor on the planet right now. Play that shit up and you can own this school.”
Across the field, an obscenely nice-looking black Lexus pulled into the parking lot and idled impatiently for Val to hurry up. Her eyes looked heavier at the site of the car, or rather at the sight of whoever was driving it.
“Yeah, well, no one asked me if I wanted to be born into the Dawson family.” Val's joking withered.
I grabbed her hand, stopping her. “At least think about it, Val. You gotta step out of your comfort zone every once in a while, otherwise life isn't worth living.”
Val nodded, and I let her slip from my grasp. It was a lot harder to let her go than it should've been. As I watched her get into the car, I realized that I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. It felt like I was on thin ice and it was cracking all around me.
Val was the only girl I thou
ght at all about. I wasn't sure what that meant, but with me leaving in a few months, I knew it wasn't anything good.
She looked at me one final time before she got into the car. There was pain in her eyes. I staggered forward a step, an overwhelming urge to run up there and rescue her washed over me. But rescue her from what? Or who?
The tinted driver's side window rolled down just far enough for a set of eyes to narrow at the sight of me. They were an older man's eyes, but they still looked like Val's. It had to be her father, Hugh.
It was the first time I'd ever seen a celebrity in person, and I could tell right away from his hateful glare, that he didn't like me.
What aren't you telling me Val?
Present.
“Valentine! You made it, how wonderful! Persephone will be so delighted to see you.” Hollywood handsome was the only way to describe the guy that met us by the entrance of his blocky, modern-style mansion. He was blond with distinct hawkish features and was thin to the point of almost waifish. He wore a white suit with the red face paint of some bird, that looked like a car company logo.
He kissed Val on the mouth, and a flame brighter than the face paint this asshole wore flashed up the base of my skull. I realized then that he was her love interest in that popular movie franchise, The Burning Game. The one where the kids were forced to kill each other.
My knuckles cracked loudly from closing my fingers into fists, which caused Val to snap a look my way. Her eyes pleaded with me to not cause a scene. I shuffled uncomfortably in this bullshit tux, she made me wear.
It robbed me of my maneuverability. I wouldn't be able to protect her as well in this fucking monkey suit, but she wouldn't hear it. Number forty-three on her list was about proper party attire.
“And who is this charming specimen?” The blond man turned to me. Confusion quickly replaced my anger as he blatantly checked me out. He shifted over to kiss me the same way he'd kissed Val. I stopped him abruptly with a hand on his shoulder, then extended my hand so as not to be rude.
“Jeter, meet Arsen.” Val introduced us. “He's my bodyguard.” Val paused, then added, “And also my stepbrother.” She was still getting used to the concept that we were related now. Hell, so was I.
“Pleasure,” Jeter shook my hand eagerly.
I slunk back a few steps while they discussed niceties and work. Not two minutes into the Hollywood high society and I'm ready to murder an actor who was obviously not interested in Val sexually.
I did feel a little stupid for being so overprotective of Val. Jeter wasn't going to hurt her, I was just jealous. It should've been my lips on Val's, not some actor. That's why I could never watch her movies without falling into a murderous rage.
How the hell am I going to survive the rest of the night?
“Was that concern for your client's well being or just plain jealousy that I was kissed by another man?” She took my arm and we walked into the party proper, the smugness in her voice was intolerable.
“That was me... misreading a situation. It doesn't happen often.”
“Because, it seems like you made quite the impression on Jeter. I can give you his number, if you're interested.” Val teased. It was nice to hear her sense of humor again. She hadn't said three words since giving me that insane document this morning.
“They have beer at this party?” I quickly changed the subject, trying to salvage some of my dignity. “I'm going to need a lot of that.”
“Over by the bar, hot stuff.” Val laughed at me.
Part of me was glad for the mistake with Jeter. It was a long overdue ice breaker, that gave me a little hope. We used to be friends, at least until I left. Ever since I'd come back into her life the sexual tension was there, but not that friendship that kept me alive during the dark time with my own family.
Val was the best friend I’d ever had, and it always pained me to think that I'd lost that forever.
I leaned against the bar and watched Val mingle, while the overtaxed bartender struggled to make cocktails I'd never heard of. I couldn't imagine teenage Val ever setting foot in a party like this. Now she glided between groups of Hollywood's super elite with the same confidence and ease that I’d only seen while she was performing on stage.
Val was in full on movie star mode. Her hair was done up in a layered bun and she wore this shimmering, low-cut, pencil dress that made her tits look somehow even more fucking amazing. I couldn't stop stealing glances at her in the back seat when I picked her up from the salon. It gave me a raging hard on for the whole drive.
I couldn't get the image of her in the shower out of my head. It made me want to bend her ever every fucking piece of furniture in this place. I didn't, of course because that would be insanely bad for both of us. But now I knew without the shadow of a doubt, she wanted me as much as I wanted her. If we didn't end this bodyguard arrangement soon, it was only a matter of time before I rammed my cock down her throat and made her beg me for more.
Valentine glanced at me between groups. She was probably making sure that I hadn't run off, or embarrassed her by getting into a fight. Or, maybe she was still remembering what I looked like rocking just a towel and a smile.
She laughed and gossiped with the best of them, seamlessly slipping in and out of the conversations at just the right time. It was impressive, but I could tell that she was just playing the part. She'd taken what I said about everything being just scenes in a play to heart, and perfected it far better than I ever could.
I'd seen her act enough when she was younger to know that she didn't enjoy any of this, but probably saw it as just another part of her job. She was only here because she felt like she had to be, not because she wanted to be.
At first glance it looked like super wealthy and famous Val had it all, but the more time I spent around her I could tell that that wasn't the case. She was missing something... Happiness.
“What can I get you?” The bartender finally made his way over to me.
“Two beers,” I replied. “Whatever you got on tap.”
In a room full of celebrities, I didn't expect more than a passing glance from anyone. That's why it struck me by surprise when the bartender eyed me for a long moment, before rushing off.
What, was he going to card me at a house party?
In the few minutes that he was gone, Val materialized beside me. “You having fun, yet?”
“I think I've outgrown the whole party vibe.”
“The Arsen I remember would've been right at home in one of these. You'd probably be walking out of the bathroom with a model by now.”
“Just one?” I asked with feigned being hurt.
Val rolled her eyes at me. She tried to hide it, but I could see some something in her expression. Was that a degree of jealousy?
The bartender returned with two foamy, glass mugs.
“What'd you get me?” Val changed the subject as quickly as she could.
“You thought one of these was for you?” I pulled them both toward me. “How else do you think I'm going to get through a night trapped in a building with people named 'Jeter' and 'Persephone'?”
Val paid and thanked the bartender before I could get my wallet out. “You're driving, Arsen.” She raised an eyebrow at me and took one of the beers.
“Shit, man.” The bartender's face lit up. “You are Arsenal, I fucking knew it! I saw your last fight on Bleecher St, that shit was crazy. You're fucking legend!”
Dammit. Of all the places and times to get recognized...
“Arsenal?” I heard Val ask distantly, more to herself than to me. It sounded like she was putting together clues in her head. Who knows what my mother whispered to her at Hugh's place.
“Don't know what you're talking about, Pal.” I grabbed my mug and left the bar.
I didn't have anywhere particular to go, just away from there. Val had enough shit to worry about, without all of my baggage.
There was a dirty, violent and remorseless world far beneath Valentine's deluxe condos and exc
lusive parties. When I abandoned Val, I lived and died each night in the underground rings of illegal of bare-knuckle fighting.
Chapter 7
Valentine
Past
“Valentine... Who the fuck invited you?” Stacy said. She was surrounded by two girls, who bullied me all through middle school and ignored me all through high school. They stood several feet into the large entrance hall, blocking my way into the rest of the party.
“I did.” I walked into Stacy's house, stopped and addressed her as the whining toddler, that she was. I imagined an audience behind me hanging on my every word, and the confidence flowed through me.
“Excuse me?” Stacy scoffed, putting a hand on her hip. She glanced at her friends for more support. “You best turn your nerdy little ass around, freak.”
“And who are you, exactly? The daughter of some slimy politician, right? I think your dad begged my father for an endorsement this past election. Maybe if the Dawson family backed him, he wouldn't have lost so badly.”
At first it felt super weird tossing around these insults, but I'd practiced them like I did every other play. My costume, this designer preppy sweater-over-plaid look, was flawless. I owned the entitled, princess role and flaunted it.
Stacy and her friends were stunned speechless, and made no move to stop me from entering.
“Nice house by the way,” I gave her another disdainful look when I brushed past her and went into the party. “It's almost as big as our summer home.”
When I rounded the first corner, I fell into the nearest wall. Holyshitholyshitholyshit! Did I just put Stacy Miller in her place? I couldn't believe I even had the nerve to show up, I felt ten feet tall. Arsen was right! If you don't like who you are, act like the person you want to be! I needed to find him and tell what I'd just done.
I'd picked up a red cup and had it filled with beer, mostly because I assumed that that was what you did first when you went to a party. I had a great start and didn't want to screw it up.