by Bella Jewel
I bundle the blankets and a pillow into my hands and walk back down the stairs and into the living area. Lucky for him, I have a really great sofa. I worked hard to buy something that was lush and comfortable. I’ve never been one of those people who buy an expensive sofa out of some fancy ass leather that feels like you’re sitting on a rock. Just to say I have it. No thanks. I want to unwind at the end of the way, sinking into the sofa, relaxing, feeling its warm plushness surrounding me.
Yes, please.
Lincoln is staring at my photos when I walk back in. His dark eyes scanning over them. My heart races, because I really wish he wouldn’t look at those, but I can’t really tell him not to without having to give him a reason. So, I say nothing. I just clear my throat. He turns around, eyes going over me in that way they do, like he’s eating me up, like he’s devouring me with every glance. I wonder if he knows he’s doing it, or if he simply looks like that at every woman that goes past.
Probably more to the truth.
“You got beer?” he asks. That gravelly voice hits me right in my core, but fuck him, I’ll never tell him how much his stupid ass affects me.
“Yes, anything else? Steak? Potatoes? A foot rub?”
He shrugs. “If you’re offerin’.”
“I’m not,” I mutter, making up the sofa and then going to the fridge and getting him a beer.
I hate, hate, hate that I’m about to give him a beer right now, but whatever, I can’t get snippy about it, he’s doing me a favor. This, in all honesty, is me reminding myself why I’m not hurting him right about now.
He’s doing me a favor.
He’s doing me a favor.
Once he’s got the beer, he takes a few sips and then murmurs, “Where’s your shower?”
I point toward the stairs. “You’ll find it. Stay away from my room.”
He grins, takes another big sip of beer, then snatches the towel up I put on the sofa and strides up the stairs. I exhale and sit down. Gosh, this isn’t exactly how I saw tonight going, but here I am. My phone rings just as I’m pondering this, and I look down to see Ellie’s name flashing across the screen. I answer it.
“Hey, Ellie.”
“Hey. I’m so sorry, I left my phone at home. I’m still not the best with using it. Are you okay? I saw you called a few times.”
“Yeah, I just had a bit of a problem with someone watching me from outside. I called Lincoln; he came over and sorted it out.”
“Oh, my gosh! Are you okay? Who was it?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest. But whoever it was, he was watching me. Brazenly, too.”
“I’m glad Lincoln helped out, that’s scary. Are you okay now? Do you need us to come over?”
“No, he’s got that covered. He’s going to put a new security system in tomorrow also, apparently mine is not good enough.”
“Well, that’s comforting. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for calling back. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem at all. I’ll call you tomorrow, check in.”
I finish the phone call and text Lucy, telling her Lincoln is staying the night and why. The fifty texts in a row I get back tell me she’s not happy about it either. I tell her it’s okay and that I love her.
I’m just cleaning up the last of my dishes from dinner when Lincoln strolls down the stairs. Not walks, but fucking strolls, like he’s a god or something. His chest is bare, his hair is damp, and his shorts are sitting way too fucking low on his hips. It’s making parts of my body wet that I really, really, really don’t need wet right now. Damn him for being so fucking gorgeous. Why does he have to have a body like that? With all those tattoos? And that olive skin stretched across muscles that make my mouth water?
Don’t get me started on the V that dips into his pants.
Why, oh why, can’t he be unattractive? That would be so much easier.
“If you’d like a picture, happy to send one,” he says, and I jerk my head up.
Idiot.
He just completely busted me checking him out. And openly, too. I wasn’t even trying to hide it. Hell, he probably caught the drool slipping from my mouth. I try to hide the fact that my cheeks grow incredibly hot and red by turning around quickly. “I’m a woman, I’m allowed to look. God knows you do every single time I’m around.”
“Never said you couldn’t look.”
His voice is closer now.
He’s in my kitchen.
I’m going to die.
“Well, then I don’t know why we’re still talking about it.”
He chuckles, but I refuse to turn around and look.
What I need to do right now is go to bed. Yes. Right now. Bed.
It’s early though; I don’t like sleeping this early. Usually, I watch my favorite television show on Netflix and I eat some chocolate and maybe drink wine. Whatever. Don’t judge. I’m only human.
“Don’t let me stop you doing whatever it is you do at night.”
It’s like he’s reading my mind.
“I usually don’t have men walking around shirtless, being all bossy and manly.”
“Tonight you do. So whatever you do, I’ll join you.”
I turn finally, and he’s right there, staring down at me. All six feet, solid muscle. Just staring at me with those dark, intense eyes. Fuck. My knees start shaking, and I slip out quickly, going to the fridge, grabbing the whole damned bottle of wine instead of a glass, the whole block of chocolate, and then I walk right past him to the sofa. I toss his blanket aside and sit down.
“You goin’ to eat all that?” he says, getting another beer and dropping down beside me.
“Yes. Why? Are you judging me?” I say, giving him the stink eye.
“No, I wanted some.”
I blink. “You want some?”
“Yeah.”
“Chocolate?”
“Well, yeah …”
“Are you joking?”
His brows furrow. “Man ain’t allowed chocolate?”
“Chocolate is for women … angry women, women on their period, stressed women, horny women … just women.”
“Load of crap. Men like chocolate too,” he mutters, reaching over for the block and snapping half of it off.
“You just took half!” I protest.
“You goin’ to eat the whole damn thing, were you?”
“Actually, yes I was. Why? Have you got a problem with that? Scared it might go straight to my thighs?”
His eyes drop to my thighs and he murmurs, “I wouldn’t be complainin’ if it went to your thighs, thicker the better. And you’ve got fuckin’ lovely legs.”
Well.
That backfired.
I look away, snapping off a piece of chocolate and throwing it into my mouth. “Well good, because I’m going to eat all of this.”
He snorts. “Go for it.”
I use the remote to turn on a television show, and then I break open the wine and take a sip straight from the bottle.
“Fuckin’ classy,” Lincoln grunts, almost as if he’s trying to fight back a laugh.
“I never said I was a lady, Lincoln Knight. My house. My night. I’ll drink out of the damned bottle if I want to. I use my manners all damned week out there in the world; in here, it’s a free for all.”
A low chuckle. “Sounds good to me.”
He doesn’t mind.
Well fuck.
He’s just making it harder and harder not to like him.
Dammit.
~*~*~*~
THEN – SHANIA
My ankle wasn’t broken, but it was sprained.
I had to take two weeks off, and it sucked. I helped out at the bar, which only lasted a night because the men wouldn’t leave me alone. Nicolai decided that was a bad idea, so I got put out back to help with the girls getting on and off stage smoothly. Now my ankle is finally okay, I’m back to work, and thank God, because it is very easy to become accustomed to that kind of money.
And I enjoy it.
A lot.
Yana is going to be a problem for me, I know it. The way she looks at me, the way her eyes follow me when Nicolai talks to me—it’s alarming. Ever since he dropped me off to my apartment, we’ve spoken every day. He calls, to make sure I’m okay, and I don’t know…we’re getting closer. I feel it. I know it. There is something about the way he talks to me, it’s different to the other girls.
Yana isn’t happy with it.
It’s written all over her face. Her eyes flare with rage every time he smiles at me.
I know she’s not done with her little tricks. I check everything now before I go on stage, but it won’t take much for her to try something different. Especially now I’m back and the crowds are coming back in, making her look … well … insufficient.
So, I’m basically just waiting for the next shoe to drop.
It’s coming, I know it is.
After my dance tonight, a heap of us girls are staying behind once the club is closed for a few drinks. It’s Harper’s birthday, and Nicolai always allows the girls free drinks on their birthdays for a few hours before we all go home. I’m excited. These girls, this club, it’s starting to feel a little like family.
I like it.
It’s nice.
The night goes quickly, and once my dance is over, I get changed and do a little cleaning up in the back then wait for the club to close. Once everyone is out, we all head out to the bar and take a seat. Harper is chatting, her hair bouncing, her face happy. She’s the life of the party, even if it isn’t her birthday. That’s just Harper. She’s so … happy. I really like her, and we’ve become good friends in the last few weeks.
She’s the kind of person you want to be friends with. She’s honest, she’s funny, and she’s loyal. I’ve got a lot of time for her, and her me.
“We’re totally going clubbing after this,” she tells me, shoving a shot my way.
Technically, I’m not allowed to drink yet, but behind closed doors, Nicolai allows it for special occasions.
“I can’t.” I frown. “I wish I could.”
“I know a place that’ll let you in. I might happen to have a good friend who owns it, and I always take my underage friends, just please don’t say anything. I’ll buy the drinks.”
I grin. “Well, in that case, I’m in.”
We all continue to enjoy the drinks Nicolai provides for us, and then we decide it’s time to hit the town. I’m excited. I’ve never been to a club. Some of my friends have snuck in, but I’ve never had the time or the need. But right now, it sounds really exciting. I’m definitely in. We all gather our things and head to the club Harper’s friend owns. Unfortunately for me, Yana comes too.
And all she’s doing is glaring at me.
Every single time I make eye contact, she’s glaring at me.
And I hate her. Dammit.
I don’t know why she dislikes me so much, but I no longer care. I want her out of my way as much as she wants me out of hers. Which can’t possibly end well.
We arrive at the club, and as promised, Harper’s friend lets us all in. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen. The club is huge, two stories and filled with people. It has an ice theme, so everything is made of glass or shiny materials, and there are disco balls on the ceiling shining flickers of light over everyone. The bar is sleek and blue, and it is absolutely awesome. We all take a seat and immediately grab the attention of a few men around us.
I flush when one winks at me.
I dance in front of men almost every day, and yet I have no experience when it comes to them.
None whatsoever.
“Drink up,” Harper says, sliding me a shot. “And then we’re going to dance!”
I grin and take the shot that burns my throat. It makes my head warm and fuzzy, and I feel damn good. Then, we dance. We wiggle, we turn, we groove. A group of us, just shaking our hips around the dance floor. We do this for what seems like no time at all, but I know it has been at least ten songs. I’m enjoying it so much it feels like less time has passed. Sweaty and panting, we all find Yana who is sitting at a table. She has another round of drinks. I didn’t think she would include one for me, but when she slides one my way, I’m surprised.
I thank her, and she gives me a smile.
I don’t trust her smile.
I don’t trust her.
But I’m not going to turn down a drink.
I take it and drink it, a little too quickly, but I’m so thirsty. Dancing has taken it out of me. We fall into another conversation, with loads of laughter, but my head starts to feel a little strange. I don’t drink a lot, so I think I’ve had a little too much. I probably just need some fresh air. Standing, I excuse myself and frantically try to make my way outside. Everything is spinning, so much that I can barely feel my legs.
I get out of the club and to the nearest building and flop against it, my head going back way too fast and slamming against the solid wall. I whimper and slide down it, my bottom hitting the floor. Something is wrong. My body is thrumming, my head is spinning, and I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t run, or scream, or do something.
It almost feels like I need to wear it off. I feel like I could run a mile.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I look up and see Harper, Yana and Pamela looking down at me. They’re a little hazy, and their voices sound strange. “Yeah,” I say, “I think so.”
“Why are you doing that?” Pamela asks, narrowing her eyes.
I blink. “Doing what?”
Harper points down. “Honey, your legs.”
I look down at my legs are twitching and squirming, like I’m kicking them around only I don’t realize I’m doing it. I try to stop them, but my body is thrumming. I want to move. I want to run. I stand up, way too quickly, and have to use my hand to stop myself falling back into the wall. “I just want to go for a run! Don’t you!”
Harper stares at me, and then says, “What have you taken?”
I blink, at least, I think I blink.
“I know exactly what she’s taken, I saw her do it,” Yana says, crossing her arms.
“What?” I squeak. “What are you talking about?”
My head is spinning.
My legs are still twitching, eager to move. But I try to keep my body still. I keep getting distracted by cars, and people walking past, I’m zoning out even though I’m trying really hard to see what’s going on.
“I’m calling Nicolai. Number one rule. No drugs. She obviously has a problem!”
“You call him, I’m going to drop you, Yana,” Pamela snaps.
What’s happening?
“Shania,” Harper says, suddenly in front of me again. I squeal and jerk backward. “Shania, hey. What did you take?”
“Why are you yelling at me, Harper?” I say, blinking rapidly.
“I’m not yelling, honey. Come on, we’re going to get you home.”
I don’t want to go home. I practically throw my body back onto the ground, shoving my back against the wall and closing my eyes. Nope. Not going home. Voices are spinning all around me, I don’t know what they’re saying. Someone is poking me, calling my name, but my mind is spinning, and I’m completely zoned out.
I don’t know how long I sit there, with people trying to communicate with me, jerking me and pulling me and trying to get some sense out of me. It must be a while, because suddenly, two strong arms are going around me, and I’m being lifted, way too quickly, into the air. A squeal escapes my throat and I look around frantically, but I don’t know who has me, or what I’m doing.
I just know I’m being lifted into the air, and I don’t like it because it makes me feel sick.
Everything passes in a blur—I can’t hear, think, or feel anything. My body keeps zoning in and out, and I go from wanting to get up and run, to wanting to sleep for days, to being really, really itchy.
“Sit still, Shania. I’m taking you home.”
Nicolai.
“Nicolai?” I squeak.
“Here. Got you.”
He’s got me. That’s so nice.
“You’re so nice,” I murmur. “I like you, Nicolai.”
“Like you too. Now stay still.”
“Okay.”
“Good girl.”
And then everything goes dark.
Finally.
~8~
NOW – SHANIA
Longest night ever.
That’s all I have to say about the night spent with Lincoln.
No, it’s not like we spent hours making passionate love, but knowing he was in my house made it really hard to sleep. But what made it even harder was him jerking off. Yep, you heard me right. Jerking. Off. In my house. And I could hear him, well, okay, I was going into the kitchen for a drink when it happened, and I couldn’t see him, but I knew what he was doing. I could hear him low throaty moan in the dark. I could hear his hand moving quickly. And god damn.
It nearly killed me.
I wanted to run in there and do it for him. Every urge in my body screamed at me to just walk forward, lean down, curl my lips around his cock, and suck until he was moaning my name as he came down my throat.
Then I felt like a dirty little ho for those thoughts, so I turned around and went back to bed, but not before I made myself cum three times thinking of him being so close, groaning in pleasure. Damn him.
When we both woke in the morning, I couldn’t look at him. When he installed new security, I couldn’t look at him. I just couldn’t. I think he knew that I knew what he had done, but what can I say, I couldn’t look away. So sue me.
Since then, we’ve had two arguments in three days. He has demanded to keep an eye on me and to continue helping me, I have told him more than once to eat a dick. And so far, nothing has been achieved. The club is still helping me look into Nicolai and, so far, they’re all working on it for me, which is nice. They also haven’t yet found anything.
Lincoln told me Nicolai isn’t even his real name.
That threw me. For two days, I didn’t speak to anyone. I felt … I don’t know … broken. If Nicolai isn’t his real name, then what hope have I got of finding him? Of getting back what’s mine? Worse, if Nicolai isn’t his real name … Why? What reason would he have to change his name? The club, or Lincoln, aren’t telling me much.