Never Say Never, Part One (Second Chance Romance, Book 1)

by Shaw, Melissa

  “Look, Chastity, this is a really nice place, but I don’t think it’s necessary. I can give you the phone right now and get out of your hair.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Consider this my treat. A repayment for saving my brother’s life.” She waved a sommelier over.

  “So he’s fine then?” Hope struck up residence inside her chest.

  “A bottle of Riesling, I should think,” she turned to sommelier instead of answering the question.

  “Which would be your pleasure, Madame?” A heavy French accent spilled from between thin lips.

  “The Charm will be satisfactory for this occasion.”

  “Very well.” He disintegrated into thin air as well. What was with these people? Efficiency was one thing, but she’d begun to suspect magic here.

  “He’s fine then?” Emily sipped her water and wiped the condensation off in her lap.

  “Who now?”

  “Your brother, Chase.”

  “Oh, yes, he’s fine. A concussion and swelling on the brain, but he should be out of hospital in a week or two.”

  Emily let out a long, low sigh and straightened her back. A weight lifted off her shoulders. A man hadn’t died because of her. That was always good news.

  A waiter appeared with their wine and poured for Chastity to taste. She made a big deal out of swilling and sniffing, then wriggled her nose and nodded for the black clad man to pour.

  It was chilled and fresh, and Emily had to stop herself from smacking her lips.

  “Are you ready to order the Appetizers?” The waiter leveraged disapproval down his hooked nose at them.

  “Oui,” Chastity stepped in, “deux Ormeau.”

  The waiter nodded and collected their menus. Emily hadn’t even opened hers yet.

  “I, this is great, really, but perhaps I’d better leave.” She wasn’t part of this world anymore, and her French was past rusty.

  “No, no, do stay,” her host answered, none too enthused, “you’ll love the Ormeau. It’s slow-baked Jade Tiger Abalone, Endive, Fingerling Potato and White Sturgeon Caviar.”

  Emily kept the ‘gross’ off her face. She hated French food. Tons of rich butter and no real spice – kill her now.

  “All right.” She took another reluctant sip of her wine. “So, Chase is fine.”

  “Indeed. He woke up this morning actually, bright as a penny but with a headache.”

  “I can imagine.” That bump had been nasty.

  “You found him on the sidewalk, correct?”

  “Yes,” Emily admitted and glugged more of the ‘Charm’. Ironic, much?

  Chastity took a measured sip from her glass. “What were you doing out on the street that late at night?”

  This felt a little too close to an interrogation, but she itched to find out more about the gropey drunk. Meeting his sister had exposed another side to him, and she wanted to peel back the layers even more.

  Mystery was her kryptonite.

  “I work in the area.”

  “Oh.” Chastity’s wrinkled brow belied her thoughts on the matter. “Where do you work?”

  Here went nothing.

  “The Tease. It’s a local strip club.”

  Chastity’s eyebrows climbed her forehead, but she restored them to their normal positions quickly. The creases in her brow disappeared and she broke into a genuine smile for the first time since they’d met. “Thank you for stopping to help him.”

  The appetizers arrived and were as intimidating as Chastity’s company, though they were actually delicious.

  They ate in silence as the other guests had.

  Chastity ordered Pan-seared Black Sea Bass for mains and Emily didn’t dare lodge a complaint or suggestion. She hit more of the wine. They’d need to place a nipple on her glass at this rate.

  Emily whipped out the smartphone before she forgot and slid it across the table. Chastity collected it and scrolled through the contents without glancing up to judge her reaction.

  Did she think she’d deleted texts or contacts? What the hell.

  “I’m really glad your brother’s recovering. He was in a bad way.”

  “You don’t say.” Chastity still hadn’t looked up.

  “I’d like to go see him tomorrow. You said he’s awake?”

  The elegant woman dropped the phone onto the table with a clunk and met her gaze. “Yes, he’s awake. Though I’m not sure he should have visitors at the moment.”

  “Please, I’d really like to meet him and apologize for swiping his phone.” She grinned sheepishly.

  “Yeah, how did that happen?”

  “I didn’t have my phone with, so I used his to dial 911. I slipped it in my handbag without thinking afterwards.” Emily didn’t like this woman much. There was an ‘off’ quality about her. She was ruthless, coated in a veneer of nouveau riche elegance and snobbery.

  “Oh.” Chastity returned to fiddling with the phone.

  “Which hospital is he at?”

  “Hmm,” she stopped again and looked Emily up and down carefully. Quiet expanded between them until it filled the space as actively as conversation would have.

  “He’s at Mount Sinai. Visiting hours are between 2 and 8 pm.” Chastity said it, finally, and nerves erupted inside Emily again.

  She had to speak to this man. She had to know that he wasn’t the creep he’d been in the club, that she hadn’t been attracted to a man who was nothing more than a dog with a hard on for nipple tweaking.

  The main course arrived on the arms of another snooty waiter, but she didn’t care about the disdain anymore.

  Tomorrow, she’d meet Chase Newman, and discover if she was doomed to be attracted to assholes for the rest of her life.

  Emily downed the last of the wine in her glass.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Chase was awake. He sat up in the bed, surrounded by vases of flowers and cards, staring out of the window at the bottom of the private ward.

  He had a jawline to match Thor and dark wavy hair which begged to have fingers run through it.

  A jerk. He was a jerk! She had to remember that.

  Emily clenched the pencil skirt she’d chosen for the occasion and straightened it. This was it. Either he’d prove her fears were founded or she’d find out that men weren’t as bad as she’d discovered thus far.

  “Chase?” He started and turned in the bed, pulling the sheets around his waist.

  “Do I know you?” He had a deep voice and it sounded better now that his sentences weren’t slurred with liquor.

  “Kinda.” How the hell would she explain this one?

  ‘Hi, I’m the stripper you fondled who also got you beaten senseless outside the club. How’s your head?’

  She settled for stepping further into the ward, and a tiny self-conscious grimace.

  “I don’t get it.” Chase reached up and ruffled his hair.

  “Yeah, I’m not being clear, am I?” She blushed and walked up to his bedside table. The cards read ‘Get Well Soon’; some were signed with hugs and kisses. She turned to him and a flash of recognition passed over his expression like a cloud.

  Maybe this was a bad idea.

  “I shouldn’t have come, I suppose, but I wanted to check you were recovering.”

  “Who are you?” He was arrogant, but in that self-assured, business-like way. It wasn’t as revolting to her as it should’ve been.

  “I’m Emily.”

  Chase raised an eyebrow at her and grabbed a glass of water off the table, then drank from it. “All right, Emily, do I know you?”

  She was drawn to him. She wanted to reach out and touch him and it set alarm bells off in her head.

  “If you call flicking nipples knowing someone, then yeah I guess so.”

  Chase went pale – paler since he was already white from being ill. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Yeah, I’m Candy Lane.” She despised that stage name. “The last time you saw me I was twirling around a pole.”

  An awkward silence f
illed the hospital ward. She’d been idiotic to come here. She’d expected him to be kind, or different, and of course he wouldn’t be. He was the same arrogant ass who’d groped her, he just wasn’t as drunk at the moment.

  “Kay, so I wanted to check in and I’ve done that now. I’ll be on my way.” She walked backwards toward the hallway and raised a hand. “Bye.”

  “No, wait,” he tried to hobble out of the bed, and tilted forward slightly. She rushed forward and caught him before he could fall, then helped him back in between the white sheets. Touching him made her breathless. Sparks skittered across her skin and into her chest.

  “Easy does it,” she managed to breathe it out.

  “Thanks.” Chase rearranged himself then slumped back amongst the pillows and gripped his forehead. “I’m ashamed.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry about how I acted the other night. It’s no excuse, but I’d just found out something shitty and I decided to bury myself in alcohol. I wound up in the strip club at the end of the night. Sort of to dull my thoughts even more.”

  “Gee thanks.” Stripping wasn’t exactly an art form, but she’d expected a little appreciation for her dance. He hadn’t been ‘dulled’ when he accosted her.

  “Oh come on, you know what I mean.”

  “How could I possibly know what you mean when you’ve shrouded yourself in gift cards, flowers and mystery?”

  “You don’t talk like a stripper.”

  “You don’t act like a jerk.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I said I’m sorry about that, what more can I say?”

  “Ha,” she spat out the mirthless laughter before continuing, “nothing I guess.”

  The bang of a door in the hallway snapped them out of the argument.

  “I’m going to go. I shouldn’t have come.”

  “Why did you come?”

  Emily hesitated and brought out the tiny card she’d bought at a gas station on the long walk over. It was a joke in comparison to the ones he already had.

  “Because a tiny part of me wanted to prove that you weren’t a jerk. That not every man in this city is a total loser or user.”

  “You’re jaded,” he observed and glanced at the card.

  She tucked it against her breasts and chuckled. “No, I’m experienced.”

  “I bet.” Chase’s tone dripped with scorn.

  “Fuck you.”

  They glared at each other across the ward, and the heat between them trebled. She wanted to cross the room and slap him, then kiss him hard. That was wrong. It shouldn’t be like this.

  He couldn’t be trusted.

  “I’m going to try this one last time, Emily.” Their eyes met and she was sucked in by the intensity unveiled within them. “I’m sorry.”

  It was a genuine apology and there was shame behind it too.

  “It’s fine. I’m sorry too.”

  “For what?” The corner of his mouth quirked up and he scratched his stubbly chin.

  “I got you kicked out of the club, and I’m sure it was the bouncer who put you in hospital.” It was the first time she’d admitted it out loud and it was a complete liberation. She’d laid it bare and he could do with it what he wished.

  “Let’s not get it twisted. I was being a total dick. Chances are I would’ve gotten the snot beaten out of me either way.”

  The first real laughter she’d experienced in weeks, maybe months, leaked out of her like air from a balloon.

  “All right.” She plopped the card amidst the slew of others and waved. “Thanks for the apology and I’m glad you’re alive and well. I gave your phone to Chastity by the way.”

  “Oh? How do you know my sister?”

  “I kind of swiped your phone after I called 911,” she showed her teeth in discomfort, “and put it in my bag without thinking.”

  “You found me? You got the ambulance to pick me up?” Chase stared at her as if he’d seen her for the first time.

  “I thought you knew.”

  He shook his head and glanced out the window again. The sun had started setting, hues of orange and pink spread out over the city, visible between the buildings.

  “It was nice meeting you, Chase.” He wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. Still arrogant and infuriating, but not the same guy who’d groped a stripper in a seedy club. At least, that was how it seemed.

  Emily clutched her handbag to the side of her silk blouse and turned to leave.

  “Emily,” he said, and sat up straighter in his hospital gown, “Go out to dinner with me.”

  “What?” She froze and her heart did too.

  He fumbled a bit, then regained his composure. “Let me make it up to you. I’d like to take you out to dinner to say thank you for, ya know, saving my life.”

  This hit too close to home. If she went with him she’d be entrapped by the idea of what she’d wanted for so long: a real man who loved her. But that was a lie. It didn’t exist. She knew that now.

  “Thanks,” she said, with a small sad smile, “but no thanks, buddy.”

  Emily winked and walked out before he could stop her again.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Emily sighed and shouldered her bag. The night sky was spangled with stars, and puffs of cloud scudded across the moon. Her shift started in ten minutes, and she’d be late, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

  A week had passed since the hospital, but he was on her mind most days. She hated it and she couldn’t grasp why.

  There wasn’t a chance she’d fit into his world, she’d gotten a glimpse of it at dinner with Chastity, and there was no way she’d let herself be abused again.

  She wanted more than a stripping career and a dead drug addiction, but she had to get her life back on track. More than her future alone depended on it.

  Emily set her jaw and clip clopped down the road in her stilettos – she was used to dancing and walking in them by now. The shadows on either side of the road spread far over the sidewalks, but she wasn’t afraid tonight.

  Big Nick hadn’t threatened her since Chase had turned up outside The Tease. Maybe he was worried she’d report him to the police.

  She skipped over the blood stain on the concrete – the spot where she’d found Chase – and hurried towards the corner.

  “You’re gonna be late, girlie.” Nick appeared beside her and nabbed her arm.

  Emily wriggled it, but he didn’t let go. “All the more reason to get to the club on time.”

  “Where’s my money? It’s been a week.”

  Fear pooled in her mind, filling the calm gaps. In the rush of discovering Chase and the lack of attention from Big Nick, she’d completely forgotten.

  “I don’t have it,” she replied through gritted teeth.

  “You don’t have it.” A slow grin opened in front of her, revealing yellowing teeth and that fantastic nicotine breath she loved. What a turn on.

  “I have about $1000 at home. I can give you that so long.” She’d have to set aside money once a week. Maybe she could convince him to let her pay in installments.

  “That wasn’t the deal, girlie. You owe me 10 000 big ones, and you had a week. Now, your ass is finally mine.” Nick reached around and grabbed her butt with both hands.

  “Let go.”

  “A deal’s a deal, bitch.” He forced her backwards and pinned her up against a dingy brick-faced building. “Wanna bring out that pepper spray now?”

  “Get off me, Nick. I can get you the money, I need more time. Be reasonable.”

  “You’re a coke whore. I can’t trust your word, only your body.” There was a soft release of pressure above her crotch. He’d undone the front buttons on her jeans.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Big Nick pressed against her and his crotch invaded her privacy.

  Oh yes, this was happening. It wasn’t a nightmare, the haunted dreams of a past life or a future terror. This was her against a wall, facing off against a witless drug dealer who’d attempted mur
der a week before.

  “Nick,” she gasped it and he guffawed into her hair, “get off me. There must be another way.”

  “I gave you months, bitch. No more chances.” He pulled her jeans down an inch and she grabbed them and pulled back.

  The street was empty. There wasn’t hope of help. She’d have to handle this herself. How?

  “Please, give me another week. I can get the money.”

  “No.” He forced his mouth onto hers and stuck his slimy tongue between her lips. She bit down hard.

  “Aahhhhhhhh!” Nick’s muffled scream rose above them in a cloud, and she tasted the copper of blood. She let go of his slug of a tongue and spat the blood on the ground.

  “Don’t fuck with me!” She yelled at him, but he spat too and then backhanded her across the cheek.

  Emily’s slammed into the bricks behind her.

  “You’re gonna die, you little bitch.” Nick drew back his fist and she shut her eyes. This was what she’d amounted to. A statistic on a dark New York street. ‘Unnamed Victim of Mugging Dies Outside Mediocre Strip Club’. That was her tiny heading in a local paper.

  “Having fun, meathead?” A familiar voice spoke up nearby.

  “What the fuck?” Nick let go of her, and she slumped against the building and sank to her haunches, her stilettos dug into the backs of her thighs.

  “There a problem here?” It was Chase, standing in a clean white shirt and tailored pants. He was a vision off Wall Street, without the tie and smoking cigarette.

  “You.” Big Nick backed off slowly, in the direction of the club.

  “Me.” Chase wiggled his head and pointed two thumbs back at his chest. He brought out his smartphone and entered a number on it. “And I’m about two seconds from calling the cops. I think they’d be really interested in you, big guy.”

  Nick met Chase’s gaze and stared into his eyes. He held up two fingers. “You looking for a second round, buddy?”

  “Sure.” Chase rolled up his sleeves. “Sobriety has its advantages.”