by Paige Hill
Silence stretches between us and I can physically feel him distancing himself. It hurts my heart, but I don’t know how to talk to him anymore. I miss my little brother. The one that once thought of me as his best friend.
“I’m trying,” he says softly before he disconnects the call.
I allow myself a few more minutes to compose myself. I don’t know what to do or say to get Alex to open his eyes, but maybe this baby will be the catalyst he needs. However, I refuse to let him or her suffer for the sins of the father.
Snatching onto the last remaining thread of hope, I change into a pair of denim shorts and a t-shirt. Silence from the living room causes a small amount of anxiety to surface and my curiosity gets the best of me. Traipsing down the hall in search of survivors, I sigh heavily.
Rounding the corner into the living room, I literally shake my head to make sure what I see is in fact reality. Aiden is slouched back on my turquoise blue sofa with a baseball cap resting over his face and Furb is sprawled out on his chest.
Purring.
Traitor.
“Did you drug my cat?” I ask and my eyebrows shoot into my hairline.
“Only if you count my charming personality as a drug.” I can’t see his face, but there is a smirk in his tone.
“Oh, yes. That must be it,” I mock knowing his personality is more churlish than charming.
“But, seriously, what did you do to get him to like you?” I ask thoroughly shocked.
“Sorry, can’t share our secrets. We’re bros and I wouldn’t dare break the Bro Code.”
Sitting on the butter soft leather sofa in Aiden’s living room, I glare at the resident traitor as he naps.
Someone’s adjusted to his new surroundings.
What the hell did he do to my cat? It’s like he’s Ativan for pussy.
Glancing back at the TV, I try to focus on the show, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult. I’ve been cooped up in this apartment for almost two days. My anxiety grows as I feel the dark walls closing in on me. It’s a gorgeous day and I refuse to waste it. Looking down at the soles of my feet, I check the cuts. They are healing rather quickly, so I decide to slip on a bathing suit and lay by the pool.
Rising from the couch, I stretch my aching muscles. Being a couch potato must be harder than I thought. I’ve had nothing to do but watch TV and read. Aside from Teagan and I calling to check in on one another, I didn’t realize how lonely it has been. My only companions are a traitorous cat and my fictional boyfriends. Most of the time, I prefer the fictional kind. Real life relationships are messy. And messy is not a luxury I can afford right now.
Aiden stays in what I now prefer to call his Fortress of Solitude, also known as his bedroom. I can hear him make phone calls and pound away on a keyboard, but beyond that, I get nothing but radio silence. I don’t know if I’ve done something to piss him off again or if he just wants me out of his hair, but just about the only time he has come out is to fetch takeout for us.
No way in hell I’m going to touch that damn space stove again.
I don’t want to take over his home or make him feel like he can’t enter his own space. And, as bitchy as I was to him, I do appreciate the gesture. Maybe if I slip out for a bit, I can give him the space he seems to need.
My bare feet pad along the hardwood floor as I make my way to the guest room. Thank God the cuts don’t hurt anymore when I walk.
I decide on my blue ombre bandeau bikini. It’s my favorite because it has a twist in the front that helps keep it tight and the color compliments my skin. Let’s face it, most of the women in Miami live in swimsuits. Who can blame us? It’s hot as hell.
Throwing on a short chiffon cover-up and sandals, I grab my lotion and Kindle. I make a beeline for the front door, hell bent on getting out of here. The air in here is rapidly becoming stifling.
“Where the fuck are you going?” His voice booms and I see his brow furrow.
“I’m going to the pool,” I state matter-of-factly.
“Like hell. I thought I made my point pretty fucking clear. Sadistic madman ring any bells, Miami Barbie?”
My face starts to redden at the condescending tone in his voice. Who does he think he is, talking to me like that?
“Excuse me?” My eyes squint into slits as I stare daggers into him. “You don’t get to talk to me like that! I can’t spend another minute locked away in your apartment by myself. Hell, you barely bothered to speak to me. I need to get out of here and breathe.”
Why does he have to be such a dick? He always assumes I’m stupid or selfish.
“And just so you know, I did think about it. But this whole place is surrounded by a fence and has a damn doorman. If he’s that desperate, he’ll figure it out anyway.” I shrug my shoulders and reach for the knob, done with this conversation. He can do whatever he pleases. I’m here for Teagan. Screw him.
“Damn it, woman! Are you completely incapable of doing anything you’re told?” He asks, running to catch the door swinging wide behind me. He utters a few more choice words under his breath, but I distinctly hear him mumble something about O’Connor owing him, big time.
Chapter Seven
Aiden
Celeste, my patience, or my cock—one of them is not going to survive this little experiment. Keeping myself occupied the last couple of days has been so much more challenging than I anticipated. She frustrates the hell out of me, and that mouth. Sexy as sin. A temptation to which I refuse to give in. Isn’t that essentially what addiction is? The desire for something unhealthy, and once you indulge, no amount will ever be enough.
She has warning labels written all over her and frankly, I’ve been poisoned one too many times.
Awkward silence fills the elevator. I can feel her annoyance roll off in waves. The periodic ding from as the elevator car descends each floor seems to ramp up the tension between us. She wants to hate me, I can feel it. But I don’t think she is capable of hating someone she barely knows.
Stepping off the elevator, I welcome the rush of air from the lobby. Being confined to such a small space with her is overwhelming. Her sweet, spicy scent makes me twitch.
Following closely behind her, I have an unobstructed view of her perfectly round ass. Her legs are impossibly smooth with gorgeous tan skin that begs to be—
Knock it off, asshole.
Spotting two loungers open, Celeste ambles over, and slides the sheer material of her cover-up over her head. The delicate material glides over her softness, making me instantly wish we weren’t in public.
I must have done something terrible in a past life. Like, Hitler bad, because seeing all of her stunning curves wrapped in a tiny bikini… fucking torture. Sweet, fucking torture.
Thank God for HOA amenities, I think as I spot the tiny bar on the other side of the pool.
“I’m getting a drink, you want anything?”
She stares at me for a few seconds as if I’d grown antenna and asked for directions to her leader. Blinking away from wherever her head had been, she responds.
“Uh, a Margarita please.”
I simply nod and turn to leave, but then she says two words I’m not used to.
“Thank you.”
Grabbing her margarita, a beer for me, and a couple of waters, I make my way across the courtyard, thankful for the invention of sunglasses.
Getting in the water is off limits for both of us because of our wounds. It doesn’t detour Celeste though. She is perfectly content with her drink and the sun. I can tell the alcohol has relaxed her because her face doesn’t pinch like she smells something bad every time she looks at me.
“Well, since you seem to loathe my presence and we’re stuck with each other for a while, tell me about yourself.” She turns her head in my direction.
“Negative.” My brain is screaming at me to get out of this situation.
“Oh, come on. I’m staying with you, yet I know nothing about you. You’re not a serial killer, are you?” She smiles, exposing straig
ht white teeth which stand out against her complexion.
“If I were, I’d have murdered you about the time you tried to burn my apartment down and hurled an egg at my chest.”
“You deserved it!” She looks at me wide eyed like she can’t believe I would think otherwise.
“See, there ya go. You do know something about me. I’m an asshole.”
“No argument there.” She pauses before speaking again. “As for me, there isn’t much to tell. I own a salon in South Beach, I spend more alone time with my cat than anyone else and my only living relatives are my little brother and my mom. Oh, and I’m not a very good cook.” She’s quick to add.
“Ya’ don’t say?” I quip sarcastically.
“Shut up!” She laughs while smacking my shoulder lightly.
“What about your dad?” I ask for the sake of conversation.
She freezes for a moment, and her body stiffens. I’m afraid I crossed a line when she sighs heavily and relaxes again.
“He was killed when I was young. He walked in on a robbery gone wrong.” Tears well in her eyes but never fall. It’s an old wound but stings all the same.
My heart breaks for her. I can’t imagine growing up without the support of my father.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It’s all I can say. I’ve never been good at showing emotion, so I leave it at that.
“It’s okay, it was a long time ago and he gave me some pretty great memories. He used to read Where the Wild Things Are to me every night when I went to sleep. The pages were so ratty,”she pauses and smiles to herself at the memory. “After he died, I started reading it to Alex. It was cathartic and made me feel closer to him.”
The tenderness on her face is something I didn’t think women were capable of. At least not in my experience.
The longer I stare at her, the more I notice her expression transform into something much more painful.
“I was determined to read that same book to my kids, but it wasn’t meant to be I guess.”
“Why do you say that,” My voice is much more gravelly than I expect.
“We had a water leak in the house, and it was destroyed. It sucked, but my mom was there to put me back together. She’s an incredible woman.”
I nod my head, wishing I could share the sentiment. Afraid of what might slip from my lips, I take a hearty sip of my beer.
“You’re not getting off that easy,” she remarks with a smirk. “It’s your turn.”
I never do.
“Tell me about your parents,” she continues.
I take another long pull from my drink, stalling while I figure out what I care to share. Wiping my lips with the back of my hand, I breathe heavily. I keep my life private. Declan is the only person who knows my history, and the fucker had to beat it out of me.
“I can honestly say my dad is the best. I don’t have a single childhood memory without him. He worked hard, but he never missed a game, school play, or bad dream.” I smile, thinking back on my childhood.
“That’s amazing. Not a lot of kids out there have that kind of support system. What does your dad do for a living?”
This is one part I hate sharing about myself. When people get a sniff of the money, everything changes.
“He’s president of the family company.” I shrug my shoulders and hold my breath, nervous about her response.
“What kind of business?” She asks looking genuinely interested.
“It’s a steel mill. Been run by the Briggs men since 1860.” I sigh, waiting for the ‘oh, old money’ look to cross her face, but it never comes.
“Wow. That’s impressive. Why don’t you work there? Aren’t you going to take over some day?” She asks the same question I’ve been asked a thousand times.
“No, board meetings aren’t my thing. My cousin will take over when dad retires. He understands I would never be happy there.”
“That’s really admirable. What about your mom?” She takes a sip of her drink and lays back.
“She left when I was two. I’ve seen her only a handful of times. None of them pleasant.” Somewhere deep down, buried by time, it still stings.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, lowering her head.
“Don’t be. She was just another plastic blonde, in the long line of women looking for rich, absent husbands. My dad was home too much, and it interfered with her multiple affairs and snorting away all his money. That was apparently the line for her. She ran off with some European hotel heir. I don’t think that lasted long, though.”
“Wow, that’s quite a story, Aiden. I’m glad you had your dad to lean on.” She turns to lie back, sipping her third margarita.
I suppose she is right. My history is checkered as best. Losing myself in thought, we settle into a comfortable silence.
Suddenly, my exposed torso is soaked. Looking over the rim of my now wet sunglasses, I see two boys about five or six years old, run off giggling.
I start to stand, intent on giving the little bastards a taste of their own medicine, but bold laughter draws my attention to my left. Celeste is soaked, and her hair is sticking to her beautiful face. Her smile is wide and mischievous as she jumps up, pushing me back with a hand on the chest.
I relax back into my seat, curious how this is going to play out. Celeste calmly walks toward the bar, but right as she passes the boys, who are now hiding behind an empty chair, she jumps in, grabs one of their water guns and goes to town. Joy lights up her face as the boys run away giggling.
They continue to chase and spray each other for about twenty minutes. I can’t bring myself to pull my eyes away from her, not for a single second. Watching her interact with kids is nothing like anything I’ve seen before. The sheer happiness on her face, right now, in this moment—it’s the most mesmerizing thing I’ve ever seen.
Hiding behind the veil of my sunglasses like a coward, I watch her. Every inch of her skin is flawless as it glistens in the sun. I’m about three seconds from getting on my knees and begging to taste it.
“Oh my God, I need a break. I had no idea I’m this out of shape.” She pants as she flops onto her chair.
You’re the perfect shape.
“What?” She questions with a confused look.
Fuuuuuck.
When did I become the guy that can’t keep his thoughts in his head?
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Oh,” She looks a little confused but lets it go. “The suns starting to set. Feel like heading back in?” She stands, grabbing her things. She bends at the waist, and her ass is far too close for safety. A man can take only so much. Surprisingly, I’ve had a good afternoon out here.
And there lies the problem. Women, even the vulnerable ones, are proverbial snakes in the grass. I’ve let her get too close, and it’s time to shut this shit down. For both our sakes.
CELESTE
Smiling as I wring the excess water from my hair, I watch Aiden carefully. Something in his demeanor has changed, the realization causes the smile to fall from my lips.
Where is the relaxed happy guy from ten minutes ago?
Despite everything, this turned out to be a pretty great afternoon. Why is he all the sudden radiating irritation? His shoulders are tense, and I can see the muscle in his jaw tick.
Choosing not to address his sudden onset of PMS seems wise on my part. What’s the saying? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you? Glancing at the dark, angry stitches at his hip, I resist the urge to smack my own damn forehead. He’s probably hurting. We’ve been sitting out here most of the day, not to mention the likelihood that those boys soaked the wound with pool water.
Gathering my things, I head for the door, Aiden slowly stalking behind me. Shuffling my Kindle so that I can throw my cover-up back on, Aiden’s voice rumbles.
“Are you gonna put some fucking clothes on?” He snarls. “I live here and don’t need people thinking I picked up a hooker.”
His words sting like wasps as unwelcome reminders flood my thoughts. Rage bu
rns through me and my step falters, but an idea begins to form.
He wants to play? I’m game.
He wants a hooker, I’ll give him a damn hooker.
Slinging my cover-up over one shoulder with attitude, I strut through the heavy glass door. The chilly air from the lobby washes over me, eliciting a shiver and hardening my nipples. My sandals clack loudly on the marble floor drawing attention to my presence.
Spotting a small group of thirty-something men in suits by the elevators, I saunter over and lay it on thick.
“Evening, boys,” I exclaim with a hip cocked.
One of them lets out a low whistle.
“Hi there,” the tall one remarks, loosening his tie, eyeing me like a dog eyes prime rib. “You going up?”
Leaning in close, inappropriately close, I run a seductive hand down his blazer coated arm. “I’d rather go down.”
The man to my left coughs, dropping a folder, spilling the contents at my feet.
My smirk conceals the growing need to laugh maniacally. Not that these men aren’t attractive, but getting under Aiden’s skin…
“I could be—” My words are cut off by one very pissed off Aiden. His thick corded arm snakes around my waist and suddenly, the ground drops from beneath my feet. He books it to the stairwell, me cursing him the entire way. Once beyond the privacy of the door, he spins me, pinning my back against the cool concrete wall.
“What the hell is wrong with you, woman?” Fury rolls off him in waves.
I didn’t expect him to get so pissed over a little joke.
“Would you chill out? It was just a joke. You were being a dick and I wanted to get back at you.”
“You don’t know those men, Celeste. Do you ever stop to think about the possible consequences before you do shit?”
His face is mere inches from mine, his ragged breathing flutters over my lips. His grip on my hips tightens, the sensation shooting to my core.
“No,” I whisper, closing the distance between us.
Aiden’s entire body becomes rigid, clearly battling with something. He breathes deeply, taking a step back, putting much needed space between us.