Brutal: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by S. Valentine

  “Hey, Elias.”

  I look up to see Amara. The dog scurries away and when she notices him I hear a sharp intake of breath.

  “He let you stroke him?” she asks incredulously, her brows high with surprise.

  “Yep.” I stand and brush the dog’s hairs from my suit.

  “Wow,” she mumbles. “You must have a way with animals.”

  “I’ve always liked them,” I tell her.

  “Roger,” she announces. “I named him Roger.”

  I thrust the key in the car door. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “We’ll take my car today, Elias.” Thomas appears, handing me his keys.

  He wants to travel in style and I don’t blame him. We’re going to the Grand Prix, British motor race, which has been held annually since 1948. It should probably take us a couple of hours to get to the Silverstone Circuit, near the village of Silverstone, Northamptonshire. I like all types of racing and I’m hoping this event will stop me from worrying about my dad for a short while.

  We all clamber into the Range and I tighten my hold on the steering wheel, aware of the tension between Thomas and Amara. They must have had an argument as neither one of them look amused, or enthusiastic to make conversation. I glance at the radio desperate to switch it on, but my client’s comfort is paramount.

  Thomas sniffs, his lips curling upwards in disgust. “It stinks of dog in here.”

  I don’t say a word, stifling a smile. When my eyes flick to the rear view mirror I share a conspiratorial look with Amara. She’s tying to hold in a giggle, I can tell by the mischief all over her face. When Thomas switches the radio on, my muscles become less rigid. I slip on my sunglasses and open the window a touch, delighted at such a sunny day.

  When we’re finally at the Grand Prix, it’s absolutely packed with people, the atmosphere unreal, charged with energy. A burst of excitement rushes through me. I’m eager to watch the race while on duty. I lead Thomas and Amara to their seats where they greet friends. One man I recognise is Colton Donovan, a famous Indy car racer from the States. I don’t usually care for celebrities, but he’s a legend and I’ve followed his career for years. He’s with his wife Rylee, a beauty he’s regularly splashed over the papers with. Knowing this opportunity may never come again, I can’t help but introduce myself.

  “Big fan of your work, Mr. Donovan,” I tell him and hold out my hand.

  He grins and shakes it. “Thanks, and you are?”

  “Elias. I’m here with Mr. Dawson.” I nod toward Thomas who is greeting a couple.

  “Nice to meet you.” Colton stands confidently and glances at his wife. “This is my wife Rylee. Rylee, Elias.”

  Rylee shakes my hand and smiles politely.

  “If I can get you guys anything at all, give me a shout,” he offers. Like all the other famous racers present today, he must get treated like a King.

  I thank him and watch as he’s bombarded by more people, eager for conversation, autographs, and photographs. I smile to myself in contentment. Having met many famous people in my line of work it’s nice to come across ones who are humble and decent. So many think they’re superior and don’t give us ordinary folk the time of day.

  When the race begins the loud roars of the automobiles taking off, I link my hands together and watch, in my element. An array of different colours, the automobiles are rapid, impressive, gliding effortlessly around the track.

  Later on a deafening applaud erupts and I see the winner of the race has been announced. Champagne is sprayed from huge bottles. Everyone is on their feet cheering. The winner accepts a trophy and I know he’ll be millions richer. Thomas tells me he’s booked hotel rooms, that he has plans to go for dinner and then onto a bar. Amara doesn’t appear thrilled. Again I wonder, what do this couple have in common exactly?

  It’s 9P.M by the time we’ve all finished eating in the hotel restaurant. Thomas is drunk and already stumbling so the plans to extend the night are ditched. I help him to his room and leave Amara to settle him in bed.

  “Will you be okay?”

  She nods.

  “Goodnight.”

  “Night.”

  I pass my hotel room and head for the bar. I’m not tired in the slightest. The excitement of the race has worn off and I’m back to stressing over my dad. My mom sent me a text update. He had an X-ray on his chest which revealed fluid on his lungs. He has a mild case of pneumonia and is on an oxygen mask, being monitored.

  I order a strong drink at the bar and push the worries away, fearful I’ll get angry and unable to control it. There’s a few loud men in the corner and they don’t want to start with me tonight. From my periphery I spot Amara. She comes to a standstill when she notices me, surprised of my presence as I am hers. Obviously needing company, a drink, or both, she saunters over.

  “Mind if I sit?” She places a hand on the stool beside me.

  “Go ahead.”

  She props herself up and orders a lemonade. We both sip our drinks in silence and it’s awkward. I don’t want to make conversation just for the sake of it. Besides, I don’t feel like talking much. She must sense my unease as she comments on the race, something I can tell she knows nothing about, nor is that interested in. I answer to be polite and hold a finger up to the barman to request one more drink.

  “How’s your dad doing?” she asks lightly.

  I tense, hating how she’s forced me onto this topic. I swallow to moisten my throat wanting my words to come out audible. “He’s still in hospital. Mild case of pneumonia.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Sympathy softens her features. “It’s mild though. That’s a good thing, right?”

  I mumble my agreement. A pretty brunette from across the bar catches my eye, a flirtatious smile curling her lips. Amara sees too and I swear her whole demeanour changes. She smooths her hair down subconsciously and straightens in her seat. Her body inches closer and I’m unsure why. Our gazes lock, words unspoken, undeniable attraction surging through the air. I want to brush a loose curl away, bring her face closer to mine and kiss her. Her wide, chocolate brown eyes are bedazzling, tempting me to lose myself in them, to make a move, to seek solace in her. I’m not usually gentle with women I fuck, but I want to touch, caress, and protect this woman for some odd reason. What is this weird connection I can’t shake off? I’m intrigued as much as I hate it. I want to tell her she deserves more than Mr. Dawson, but then she’d be available and that’d be dangerous on so many levels.

  “You look tired,” I state.

  “Trying to get rid of me?” she asks playfully, but there’s some sort of rejection in her eyes.

  “Not at all.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll leave you to it.” She glances at the brunette, aware of my intentions.

  I watch Amara walk away, wishing I could pull her back, talk all night and get to know her. Instead my frustrations will be taken out on the brunette. When Amara is out of sight, I pick up my glass and stride confidently toward the woman. I hope she likes it rough because my mood is sour tonight.

  Chapter Nineteen

  AMARA

  I can’t sleep. Envy is weirdly stirring in my stomach at the thought of Elias and that beauty at the bar. Tears of guilt well in my lower lids and I remain in darkness listening to Thomas snore, wishing I was anywhere but here. I bet he’s kissing, touching, holding her, all the things I want and am ashamed of. It’s a combination of being attracted to Elias and needing his protection, the security he could bring. I roll onto my side, irritated by my insomnia. A small part of me wants to knock on his door, just to see if my suspicions are right, that he took her back to his room. It’s not my business, but another part of me hopes he didn’t, that there’s a small possibility he likes me too, that he’s unable to sleep, the same very thoughts filling his mind.

  Don’t do it, Amara, I warn myself. If I find him with her it’ll bother me. Damn. He’s not even my boyfriend. I rub my aching temple. He’s just our bodyguard. That’s all he can ev
er be. I attempt one final time to close my eyes and drift off, but have no such luck. I throw the quilt back, slip on my nightgown, and creep into the hallway. I need to know. As I get closer to his door, I try to come up with excuses why I’m knocking on so late. Not one idea springs to mind. Before I lose my nerve, I knock on quietly. My eyes take in the carpet as I fight to keep my feet still. A warm wash of anticipation spreads through my gut and I start second guessing my decision.

  “Miss Jain?”

  I look up to find Elias in black jeans, barefoot and shirtless. Tanned thick biceps, a perfect six-pack and washboard stomach fill my vision. I drag my gaze to his face, which is confused, his dark hair tousled. Movement behind him catches my attention and I see her sitting on the bed. Oh no.

  “Miss. Jain, is something wrong?”

  I shake out of my reverie. At least the woman is still dressed. Haven’t they gotten down to it yet, or has it already happened? Words. I need words. “A charger,” I blurt out. “I wanted to know if I could borrow your charger. The wire on mine has torn.”

  He rubs his stubbly jaw. “Sure. Come in.”

  I take a few steps into the room, not knowing where to put myself.

  “Tanya was just leaving.” He coughs. The woman reluctantly stands and shakes her head at him in disbelief. He mustn’t have slept with her. My joy is unfamiliar and pathetic.

  When the door closes after her and it’s just me and Elias, I watch as he rummages through his case. He’s such a perfectionist. His clothes are folded neatly, his gadgets and wires organised into a smaller bag, and the room is spotless. Thomas has already cluttered ours.

  I try not to take in his body again, his huge frame, as he hands me the wire. When I take it, I accidentally touch his fingers, that same current of electricity charging through me. I almost go to apologise but stop myself in case he didn’t feel it.

  “Thanks,” I say casually and head for the door.

  When I peer back I notice he sighs heavily and turns to the window, his shoulders dropping in what seems to be sadness. I pause, unsure whether to leave or stay. My sympathetic side wins and I stride toward him and ask if he’s okay. He blinks, surprised I’m still here, and then nods, the answer not matching the emotion in his eyes.

  “Elias.” I rest my hand on his shoulder and he tenses as do I. I shouldn’t have done that, but I don’t remove it, not wanting to draw light to the fact it’s way too close for comfort, that I know it is. “If you ever need someone to listen, I’m here,” I offer.

  Our stares remain locked and I’m lost in the present moment, unaware of anything else but him. I could spend hours taking in the different shades of blue in his eyes, his full lips, and chiselled cheekbones. He really is complete perfection. My pulse quickens and when he tears his attention from me I remove my hand, wanting the closeness back instantly. I need his comforting arms, his hands on me, anywhere, to prove I’m desirable. When he sits on the bed, his head in his hands, my needs are long forgotten and concern fills me.

  “What is it?”

  He wipes his hands up and down his face and groans. “My dad.” He shakes his head. “If something happens to him, I’m fucked.”

  I sit beside him and grab his hand, giving it a squeeze. “He’ll be fine. Think positive.”

  He focuses on me again. “Why are you here?”

  “The charger,” I remind him.

  “Mr. Dawson forget his charger?” His lips are twitching as if he’s trying not to smile. He knows I came to see him.

  “He did,” I confirm, my tone shaking with the lies. “Why did you tell your lady friend to leave?” I need to know. I’m hoping again, wanting it to be because of me. It’s absurd.

  “I had no use for her,” he responds, the warmness of his palm spreading through mine.

  My body is aching for his touch, the pressure building, needing something. Anything. “Why not?”

  He licks his lips slowly. “As I said before…someone has already caught my eye.”

  “Why don’t you do something about it?” I’m being too brave now.

  “She’s forbidden,” he whispers.

  This is torturous. We’re openly admiring one another, but doing nothing about it.

  “And I’m unable to,” he adds.

  Just like a balloon being popped, the moment is over. Why is he unable to? What am I expecting, or wanting? If he was to make a move on me I’d reject him anyway. I’d have to. Disentangling my fingers from his, I stand and hold up the charger.

  “Thanks for this.”

  He rises too, towering over me, giving me an eyeful of his bare chest once more, which is inches away from my face. He surprises me by encasing me in his arms, squeezing me tightly. I’m unsure at first, but then I press my face against his chest, and wrap my arms around him, closing my eyes.

  “I know you’re worried about something too, and I want you to know you’re safe.”

  I have to hold in a sob. I’m far from safe. I’d need him to be with me twenty-four hours a day, every day, to ever be really safe. The gun is all I have right now. I’m waiting, preparing, expecting my worst nightmare to happen any time now.

  “Think positive, Miss. Jain,” he repeats my delivered advice to him.

  If only it was that easy. I tilt my head to take him in and he peers down at me. Desire is surging through my bloodstream and I’m afraid I’ll lose the willpower to resist Elias. I can’t do this. I wish him goodnight and return to my room. Elias refused that woman for me? Why did he tell me? Why hug me like that if he knows I’m forbidden, out of bounds, just as much as he is? My emotions are all over the place. We’re playing with fire and we’re going to get burnt.

  Chapter Twenty

  ELIAS

  I check my dad’s still sleeping peacefully and close the bedroom door. He’s been discharged from hospital with antibiotics and I couldn’t be happier. Joining my mom in the kitchen I accept a coffee and sit at the table. She asks me about work and if I’ve started dating yet. In fact, as soon as she asks Rhiann messages me and I agree to meet up.

  “I have a date tonight,” I tell her hoping it’ll be the end of the subject.

  “Oooh.” She rubs her hands together in glee. “Where will you take her?”

  I hold in a groan. Here come the probing questions. I want to shut off, not discuss it, but she won’t let me off that easily. “Maybe a bar.”

  “Well, make sure you act like a gentleman. Don’t sit there all quiet and make her do all the talking. And don’t half the bill.”

  I laugh. I probably need these tips. A date later? I don’t even know where to start. Then again I don’t need to think too much into it, try to impress her and whatnot. It’ll be one date, perhaps an invitation back to hers if I’m lucky and that’s it. Onto the next. No feelings involved, no expectations, no repercussions.

  An hour later, satisfied my dad is well, I hit the gym. DeShawn is chatting my ear off about his last job, how his client was causing all kinds of problems. I’ve got to accompany Maverick to a club tomorrow night. I’m hoping it’ll run smoothly. My dad is on the mend and I want a break for once, no personal issues, and no job issues.

  “Call you soon, bro.” Deshawn holds his fist out to me later on and I bump mine against it.

  In the car I connect my mobile to the stereo, not wanting to listen to the radio. I don’t want to risk that song coming on. Not when I’m taking the first step to move on from the past. I don’t need any hauntings, any distractions. A house track booms from the speakers, smooth beats and soft lyrics that transport me back to the past, when life was much simpler. I keep the playlist on even when I’m in the shower half an hour later, and then when I’m getting dressed. A black shirt and matching trousers will do. I spray more aftershave on than usual and then I call Rhiann. Rather than ask her to meet me at the bar I offer to pick her up. I may not want anything serious with her, but it doesn’t mean I can’t be courteous.

  When she sashays to the car I’m immediately attracted to her. No
t overwhelmed with her beauty, but more aroused at her unreal body which is concealed in a short red dress. She’s the sort of woman I’d fuck no problem. Introduce to my friends, my mom? No chance. She exudes trouble. We’ll be a perfect match for one night. As soon as she gets in the car I’m hit by the flowery scent of her perfume. She assesses me instantly, her lips pursing in admiration, pleased with what she sees.

  “Nice to see you again.” She leans forwards and pecks me on the mouth. I’m a little taken aback by her forward greeting, but certain the night will definitely have a happy ending.

  “So, what do you fancy? A restaurant? Bar?”

  She giggles naughtily. “Let’s go straight to a club.”

  It’s not really my scene when I’m out of work but I shrug and agree.

  It doesn’t take long for Rhiann to get tipsy at the club, then she’s rubbing her body against mine, dancing seductively. It does nothing to spark a reaction from me. Amara had my senses on high alert just by putting her hand on my shoulder. I curse to myself, hating how I’m thinking of her. I still can’t believe I’d hinted again how she’s captured my interest. I don’t know what I was hoping to gain by it.

  “Elias.” Rhiann tugs at my bottom lip with her teeth. “Dance with me.”

  I don’t dance, but I slip my arm around her waist and let her sway against me. We kiss and I taste vodka on her tongue. I’m sober, needing to be levelheaded. The music however is dragging me in, making me lose myself a little bit. I think I’m actually enjoying myself. My mind isn’t completely free though. Me and Kaley used to dance. Well, more like she danced and I watched. She could move her body in ways I’d never seen before. I’d met her in a nightclub and she was one of the professional dancers on the podium. She got heaps of attention, men all over her, and she only had eyes for me. I push the memories away and grab Rhiann kissing her hard, trying to forget everything before this moment.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I suggest.

  She giggles, not needing to be asked twice.