by Greta Milán
She had never been the kind of woman to believe in love at first sight. In fact, the very idea scared her.
She crossed the road and turned onto a narrow, deserted street that she often took as a shortcut. Three men were walking toward her. They were visibly drunk and telling dirty jokes loudly enough for all to hear. They fell silent when they saw Julie.
The biggest, apparently their leader, stopped and tilted his head appreciatively, like a hunter assessing his prey.
Julie slowed her pace.
He sauntered up to her, his dark gaze boring into her. “Who’ve we got here, gorgeous?” he smirked.
Julie broke out in goose bumps at his mocking tone. Not the pleasant kind. She glanced around in search of help. On her left was a high wall that reached to her shoulders. The opposite side of the street was lined with parked cars and a series of trees encircled by wire fencing. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
The two smaller men laughed and continued on their way, grinning at Julie as they passed. But their leader stood motionless on the street, staring at her.
“Are you coming, Bones?” called one of the others impatiently.
Bones took a deep pull from his beer bottle. “You guys keep going,” he replied. “I’ve got something to finish off here.”
The other two chortled as they strolled away, as though they were thoroughly familiar with his antics. Bones subjected Julie to a thorough examination.
This was not looking good. Not good at all. She didn’t want to think about what was going on in this guy’s imagination.
Her eyes darted around once more, trying to locate a gap between the parked cars so that she could make her escape.
“Thinking of leaving already?” asked Bones, sounding disappointed as he set his bottle down. “But we haven’t even properly introduced ourselves.”
Julie sprung aside wordlessly. But not fast enough. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her back onto the sidewalk.
“Not so fast,” he hissed. “Don’t you want to have a bit of fun?”
Julie glared at him silently and tried to pull her arm away. But he was far too strong, and he had her firmly in his grip. Bones bent his head toward her, his stinking breath hitting her full in the face. She swallowed down her growing nausea.
“I asked you a question!” he snarled.
Julie panicked as she wondered what to do next. She couldn’t recall a single lesson from her self-defense classes. She had to get him to release his grip on her arm, but she didn’t want to provoke or encourage him.
“Leave the lady alone.” The flat voice sounded familiar. Bewildered, she looked in the direction of the speaker and was amazed to have her suspicion confirmed.
As Julie watched Bastian walking slowly toward them, butterflies danced wildly in her stomach.
Bones also seemed dumbfounded. Judging from his expression, he was not accustomed to having anyone interfere with his business. And he wasn’t going to be put off so easily.
“Who’ve we got here?” An amused grin spread across his face as he sized up his new opponent. “A knight in shining armor?”
“The lady’s mine,” replied Bastian calmly, his full attention on Bones.
His words caused Julie’s heart to skip a beat, despite her realization that this reaction was entirely inappropriate under the circumstances. Granted, she had a weakness for drama, but she could happily have managed without this one. The crazy thing was that what he’d said felt so right.
Bones’s buddies also noticed the newcomer and stopped on the corner.
“Leave it be,” called one. “Come on, Bones. Let’s go!”
Displeased by the turn of events, Bones tightened his grip on Julie’s arm. She gasped.
Bastian narrowed his eyes. “Let her go.”
The two men glared silently at each other. After what felt like an age, the tight grip on Julie’s arm slackened. Bones took a couple steps back.
Bastian slowly positioned himself in front of her, shielding her with his body. With him standing directly in front of her, she could hardly see over his shoulder. She could sense the tension of his body and the aura of aggression that emanated from him.
Bones put his hands up in resignation. “If that’s how it’s to be,” he said in a conciliatory tone. He stepped aside to head in his friends’ direction.
His assault came so fast that Julie hardly saw what was happening. He gave Bastian a brutal shove in the chest. Bastian tried to keep his balance, but he staggered past Julie and fell roughly onto his back, elbows braced to break his fall.
Julie’s breath caught in horror, but Bastian was already back on his feet. Within seconds, he had resumed his defensive position in front of her.
Bones’s cruel laughter rang out as he swaggered away. He was waiting for a reaction, but Bastian didn’t move an inch.
“Damn it, Bones,” called one of his buddies irritably. “Did you have to do that?”
“No.” Bones gave one last diabolical laugh. “But it was fun.”
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Bones turned and caught Julie’s eye.
“Have a good evening, sweetheart.” His eyes shone with delight. “Until we meet again.”
When he reached his friends, all three of them strutted off around the corner.
Still unable to breathe normally, Julie stared at the street corner until she was sure they had really gone. Then she walked over to Bastian and looked at him uncertainly. His face was totally expressionless except for an angry gleam in his eyes.
“Are you OK?” she asked softly.
CHAPTER 4
Bastian nodded, his teeth gritted in anger. Great. What a knight in shining armor he’d turned out to be. He felt like the world’s biggest fool.
He could already feel the warm blood seeping through his sweater and his jacket. Desperately trying to hide his arm behind his back, he turned to go.
“You’re hurt!” exclaimed Julie when she noticed the blood dripping from his sleeve. “Should I—should I call an ambulance?”
Her voice was full of panic.
“No.”
Julie took hold of his elbow. “Let me have a look.”
Bastian suppressed the impulse to step back and merely pulled his elbow free. “It’s fine,” he muttered.
She looked at him, perplexed. “But you can’t go around bleeding like that.”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” he replied with a shrug. After all, it wasn’t the first time.
“I don’t live far from here,” began Julie.
Bastian raised an eyebrow. “Do you often invite complete strangers back to your place?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then there’s no reason to start now.”
“I may hardly know you, but you’re a good friend of Elena’s, and she seems to think highly of you. Besides, if you intended to hurt me, you wouldn’t have helped me.”
“Maybe I wanted to take you for myself,” observed Bastian quietly, menacingly.
Julie folded her arms, undeterred. “I’ve got nothing against us continuing this discussion here. Or you could just come back with me so I can at least see to your injuries.”
“I’m fine.” Detecting the determined gleam in her eye, Bastian could see that Julie was losing patience with him.
“Will you stop being so stubborn?”
“All right, fine,” he conceded with a sigh. “If it’ll make you happy.”
Julie set her chin. “Yes, it will.”
That didn’t sound entirely true, but it was clear she wasn’t going to give in.
Her apartment was just five minutes away, and they walked the entire way in tense silence. Bastian found it difficult to think of an appropriate way to break the ice. He wasn’t one for small talk, and since he hadn’t exactly sho
wn her his best side earlier that evening, he could hardly blame her for her silence.
As she showed him into her small apartment in a large house, he realized that it was the opposite of his place in every way—even the entryway gave him an idea of the chaos that reigned there. The walls were entirely covered with postcards and colorful framed photos of her life in pictures. He spent a moment considering the photos, which showed Julie in a variety of poses, easygoing and happy—feelings that were totally alien to him.
She hung up her coat and slipped off her shoes. Then she stretched out her toes like a ballerina and closed her eyes contentedly.
Against his better judgment, Bastian let his eyes fall to her bare feet. They were completely unblemished. He would have preferred to see an ingrown toenail or a tiny corn. It would have made things so much easier for him—at least that’s what he liked to think.
A soft meow drew his attention to a small white ball of fluff sitting in the doorway to the living room, yawning heartily. The cat had a black spot on her brow.
Julie crouched down to greet her furry friend. “Hey, little one,” she murmured, stroking her back. The cat arched up to her hand, emitting an amazingly loud purr for such a small thing. When it noticed Bastian, it padded up to him, gave his feet a cautious sniff, and immediately decided that it liked him, which it expressed by rolling over submissively, inviting him to stroke it. Bastian looked down in irritation. It wasn’t that he didn’t like cats, but he didn’t usually come across any that were so friendly.
Julie stood and nodded toward a door. “The medicine cabinet’s through here.”
Bastian followed her and stood uncertainly in the tiny room.
“Here, sit yourself down on the edge of the bath,” Julie said.
She began rummaging through a box in search of bandages. He sank down obediently onto the narrow ledge and, after a moment’s hesitation, removed his jacket and carefully rolled up his sleeve. He kept his gloves on.
He examined the wound with a critical eye. The force of the impact with the asphalt had done its worst. The back of his right arm was covered in scratches, and the skin was grazed from his elbow down to his wrist. It looked like a normal enough scrape, except that it was much more extensive than it would have been on other people. He hoped to God that Julie wouldn’t notice.
“Let me have a look.”
Bastian held out his arm. “As I said, it’s nothing.”
“What a hero,” she said sarcastically. She sat down on the toilet seat next to him and placed everything she would need in her lap. She inspected his arm more closely.
First she took a damp cloth and dabbed the wound lightly to remove the worst of the blood. His arm burned under her touch, and a sharp stab of pain shot through his body. Bastian gritted his teeth and concentrated hard on Julie’s face to distract himself. It helped.
“You’d better take your gloves off.”
“No.”
She looked up, perplexed. “But I can’t clean your wrist properly with them on.”
“There’s no need.”
“But—”
“Are you done?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll tell you when I’m done. Now just let me tend to this properly.”
Bastian watched in fascination as she worked. After cleaning the wound to her satisfaction, she applied some ointment and a compress and, with quick, nimble fingers, wound a gauze bandage around his arm to keep it in place.
“How come you’re outfitted like a nurse?” he asked.
“I often look after my nephew. He can be a bit accident-prone.” She held two colorful bandages up for him. “Soccer or dinosaurs?”
The corners of Bastian’s mouth twitched. “You don’t have astronauts?”
She grinned. “Sadly, all gone.”
Julie stuck a dinosaur bandage on the gauze to secure it. “Done.” She stood up.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
With a guarded smile, she turned and left the bathroom. Bastian followed her into the living room and looked around with interest.
At first glance, it looked as though everything in the room had been thrown together without a thought. But the details suggested otherwise. At a round dining table were four mismatched chairs—some upholstered and some not—but each harmonized with the others through recurring ornamentation. The sofa was covered with a huge retro-patterned throw with colors matching the chairs and the pictures on the walls. Even the kitchen nook—deep red and speckled with photos and postcards—reflected her distinctive style.
Bastian was surprised to find that he liked it. Again he felt an unfamiliar tug of longing, a strange desire to find out more about this woman and her life. It scared him.
“Coffee?” The guileless gleam in her dark eyes pained him. “Or would you prefer something else?”
Her voice sounded so hopeful that Bastian was briefly tempted to accept. But where could it possibly lead? Sooner or later, she’d discover the truth about him. Would he be able to bear it when she failed to hide her revulsion, as all the others had?
Before he even had a chance to turn down her invitation, she took a deep breath and asked, “Why did you do that?”
“What do you mean?”
She suddenly looked nervous. “You came to my rescue. But I don’t know why,” she began. “You weren’t particularly chatty this evening. And you made your lack of interest perfectly clear.” She looked at him with a mixture of wounded pride and incomprehension. “And then you suddenly appear, ready to defend me. Not that I didn’t appreciate your heroic gesture. I’m grateful to you for stepping in, but in my experience, there are far easier ways to show a woman that you like her than picking a fight with a crazy drunk.” Her agitation brought a blush to her cheeks. “That is, if you like her.”
He regarded her silently before answering. “First of all, I don’t like to stand by and watch women being assaulted,” he said. “As for the other thing . . . ,” he began, briefly letting his gaze wander from her dark eyes to her seductive lips. “You’re not my type,” he said tonelessly.
“Understood,” she said quietly. “Well. Thanks for your help.”
Julie stared sheepishly at the floor, as though hoping it would open up, swallow her, and rescue her from this embarrassing situation.
Because there was nothing else he could do, Bastian left without another word.
CHAPTER 5
Julie finally drifted into a restless sleep late that night. It didn’t last.
Far too agitated to rest, she found herself staring at her bedroom ceiling, lost in thought. She had painted the walls of her bedroom a cozy shade of green, and a large, colorful abstract painting—a present from Isabelle—hung above the bed. Next to it stood a small bedside table with a dark-green lamp, an alarm clock, a jar of face cream, and a dog-eared copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, her favorite novel. Dark-brown curtains framed the windows, but as the gray dawn was already breaking, the room was bathed in pale light. An antique mahogany chest of drawers occupied one wall, and a wardrobe in the same style stood opposite, draped with scarves and shawls. She had decorated the remaining walls with earth-toned landscape photographs she’d found at a flea market. She usually liked the serenity of the pictures, but that morning, she found them colorless and sad.
Wrinkling her nose, she drew her blankets up to her chin and watched the hands of her alarm clock approach seven o’clock. Its persistent ticking gradually made her aware of a throbbing pain in her head.
Unsure whether her headache was caused by all the champagne she had consumed or the outcome of the evening, she tried to turn her thoughts to other things.
And failed miserably.
She couldn’t get his expression out of her mind. The way he had stared at her silently when they were introduced, the way she had felt his intense gaze on her throughout
the evening, the way he had unexpectedly helped her, and then the coldness of his rejection—more than once.
It was a complete mystery to her, why he should be so vividly imprinted on her mind. After all, they had hardly exchanged a word, much less had anything nice to say. The fact was, they were complete strangers, and after his abrupt departure last night, she was sure she’d never see him again.
She inhaled deeply, gathered her strength, and pushed the blankets back with a groan. Her cat, Spot, who claimed her space by Julie’s feet every night, wriggled indignantly as Julie pulled her legs out from under her. “Sorry, sweetheart,” murmured Julie as she dragged herself out of bed.
First, she needed to get rid of her headache. Moving sluggishly, Julie shuffled into the kitchen to fix herself something substantial for breakfast. In search of comfort food, she rummaged through the cupboard until she found a box of chocolate muesli, which she poured into a bowl with a generous splash of milk.
She sat on the sofa and shoveled her cereal into her mouth with determination, impatient for the endorphins to take effect. Only a few bites in, the doorbell rang.
Julie gave a pained sigh. Only one person was tactless enough to pay her a visit at such an ungodly hour.
She stood up with some effort and opened the door to greet her mother.
Despite her diminutive size, Louisa Hoffmann was a formidable presence. In her expensive navy blue suit, she looked every bit the respectable matron she thought herself to be. As she walked in, Julie could make out the precise lines of her scarlet lipstick and the marked wrinkles on her forehead. Her mother leveled her surprisingly perceptive eyes on her expectantly.
“Good morning, Julietta,” Louisa said in her usual stiff tone, letting her gaze sweep disapprovingly over Julie’s wrinkled, faded pink T-shirt.
Julie forced a smile. “Good morning.” She gave her mother a light kiss on the cheek and stepped aside to let her in. “How are you?”
“Very well, thank you, my dear.” She studied Julie’s hangdog expression. “You look dreadful,” she said curtly before sweeping past Julie and into the living room.