Chapter 7
I can’t believewhat’s happening. How had the night turned into this?
I’m in a surreal state of what-the-fuck as I thread my way through the crowd, replaying Nick’s whispered words over and over in my head. If you walked into work dressed like that I’d bend you over my desk and fuck you until you begged me to let you come.
The image is ungodly hot, and so distracting that I don’t realize that I’ve found Mickey until my feet stop seemingly independently of my mind.
Mickey has found the hunky blond Viking who was hitting on her earlier. They’ve abandoned any pretense of dancing and are making out against a wall.
“Uh,” I start, standing awkwardly behind them as they make a valiant effort in swallowing each other’s tongues.
“Excuse me?” I try.
Nothing. The Viking slips both of his hands under Mickey’s ass and hikes her up so that she can wrap her legs around his waist.
Time to dive straight in before I see something I can’t unsee.
“Hey!” I reach up and grab Mickey’s shoulder to get her attention.
She breaks off the kiss, and they both turn to look at me, him still holding her like she weighs nothing at all.
“You wanna join?” the Viking asks, flashing a pearly smile.
“Thanks but no thanks.” To Mickey, I say, “I think I’m going to get out of here. Will you be okay?”
Mickey turns back to the Viking, says, “Give me a moment, gorgeous,” and hops off him. She hooks her arm into mine and steers me off to the side.
“I’m sorry I ditched you up there,” she says genuinely. “I saw children and panicked. Are you upset with me?”
I shake my head. God, she’s nice. Cheryl never thought twice about leaving me anywhere at any time.
“No worries,” I say. “Like, at all. Trust me, I wanted to run too.”
“Then why are you leaving?” Mickey asks with a frown. “The night is young, and I suspect that Mr. Viking has an equally hot friend that will make Nick Madison look like a potted plant.”
I snort and don’t verbally disagree, even though I sincerely doubt a man that gorgeous exists. “Thanks but no thanks,” I say again.
I hesitate, embarrassed for a moment that I’m leaving the club with our boss. But then I relent. If Mickey tries to talk me out of it then maybe it really is a bad idea.
“I’m actually going with Nick.” At her expression, I quickly clarify, “But just to another, quieter bar. To get a drink. We’re not going home together.”
Nothing about Mickey’s face says she believes me.
“It’s true,” I insist. “I have no interest in complicating this cruise job.”
Mickey doesn’t try to talk me out of it. Instead she just grins, winks, and says, “Give him my best, girlie. And have fun.”
I swat away her wink, already heading back toward the door. “It’ll be boring,” I promise, not quite believing it myself. “You’re the one who’s in for some fun.”
Mickey shoots me a devilish smile and turns on her heel back to the Norse invader, beckoning him with a finger.
I shake my head as I walk away. Even back in the early days of college, before I was with Brent, I was never the type to go out to clubs like this. Doubly so for random hookups with strangers, as sexy as they might appear. Up until seeing Nick, the night wasn’t going so hot. I was trying to pretend like I was having a good time for Mickey, but club crawls just aren’t my thing. Then Nick appeared and all thoughts of an early night went right out the window. At first I hadn’t quite believed it, thought that my brain had somehow conjured an illusion. All night I’d been seeing traces of him, doing double takes at a host of tall, handsome men. But they were never him. Until suddenly there he was, looking suave and sexy in a gray suit without a tie.
Every moment after has felt like being on a slingshot ride; the only thing I can do is hang on. And it all has the uncanny feeling of being preordained. Somehow it seems inevitable that I’m leaving this place with Nick, like something in me had known all night that it was going to happen. I gulp, nerves buzzing in my stomach. Thankfully I haven’t drunk much tonight and have a mostly clear head.
Just don’t do anything stupid, Evie, I tell myself, choosing to ignore the fact that leaving this club with Nick is the worst idea I’ve had since accepting Brent’s ring. When am I going to admit that Nick Madison will never look like a boring old coworker? When will I learn that my self-control can’t be trusted around him?
My reservations are battling against excitement though, anticipation, and they almost fully abate when I leave the hot club and step out into the cool spring night air. One drink. It could be fun. And I can’t even begin to imagine where Nick might take me. A hotel bar in Midtown? A rooftop garden? An exclusive speakeasy?
I quickly find Nick standing by the street, looking annoyed at the line of people waiting to get in. It doesn’t appear to have moved much since Mickey and I went in an hour ago.
“Be careful,” I say when I’m at Nick’s side. “You’ll scare them off glaring at them like that.”
Nick doesn’t flinch, though I know I surprised him. He really is amazingly collected. Every emotion seems to be examined before he allows it to take place.
“I’d be doing them a favor,” he says, looking down at me. “Nothing in there but bad music and expensive drinks.”
“Do you even have a concept of expensive?” I tease.
His mouth quirks, but he answers me seriously. “Of course. I know the value of money, and what’s more, I respect it.” He nods at the crowd. “They don’t.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Because they’re wasting it on something as meaningless as prestige. Believe me, there are plenty of decent places to drink and dance in this city that you can walk right into. The only reason all these people are here is because it’s trendy, a place to be seen and feel like you matter.”
“Wow,” I say. “Are you always this negative?”
His eyes flick back to mine. “Yes,” he says, but he smiles as he says it. “I’ll be in a better mood the further away we are from this place.”
“Then shall we?” I ask.
He nods, brushing his hair back over his scalp with a practiced motion.
I expect him to call a car, but, surprisingly, he starts walking.
“Is it close?” I ask.
“More or less,” he replies. “Do you mind a walk?”
“Not at all,” I say. “It’s a good chance to see more of the city. I haven’t been in this neighborhood before.”
“I love the city at night,” he says. “When I was younger, I’d walk for hours to clear my head, think on plans. These days it’s hard to excuse wasting the time.”
“And how are you excusing it now?” I ask.
He glances at me. “I’m not,” he says. “I’m actually trying to convince myself that this isn’t a waste of time.”
I snort. “You really know how to make a girl feel special,” I say. Nick has tucked away the overt lust he’d displayed in the club, lapsing back into what I’m starting to think of as his “work mode”. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed.
“You should feel special,” Nick says. “This is highly out of character for me.”
“Been a while since you’ve been on a date?” I ask.
“Is that what this is?” he replies, raising an eyebrow.
I follow him as he turns a corner, heading down a more residential street. The noise of the club has faded finally, layered into the constant buzz of the city.
“It has all the tell-tale signs of one,” I say. I list on my fingers, “Two people alone together, out after dark, getting a drink. Some light negging.”
Nick frowns. “What’s negging?”
I laugh. “That thing where a guy insults a girl to make her crave his approval. You’ve never heard of negging?”
“Absolutely not.” He makes a face. “Does that work?”
“Apparently,” I say. “But not on me.”
“Well I wasn’t negging you,” Nick says. “I was just being honest.”
“If I thought you were, I wouldn’t be here right now,” I reply. “But, uh, where exactly is here?” We’ve turned again and suddenly we’re on a street lined with stalls, with divey-looking bars and take-out restaurants on the first floors of ancient, slightly rundown apartment buildings.
“St. Mark’s Place,” Nick says. “The oddest street in NYC.”
I watch a gaggle of girls in brightly colored wigs and neon jewelry dance down the street. Passing them is a group of drunk business bros hooting and hollering. People lounge on stoops and smoke in the street. The sound of jazz music pours out of a bar further down. It’s eclectic and crazy, a sensory overload. Completely different from the high-class, fancy places I’d imagined Nick might take me.
“This isn’t what I pictured,” I say, as Nick leads me further down the street.
“And what did you picture?” Nick asks.
“Something less… grimy,” I say, stepping deftly around a puddle of vomit. “You’re a man of many surprises, Nick Madison.”
“You wouldn’t believe the half of it,” he says with a disarming smile.
He stops in front of a bar and opens the door for me. The sign reads The Spotted Cat. Stepping inside, the first thing I notice is what is presumably the titular cat, though it’s really more striped than spotted. It’s sitting on the bar, and barely glances at me as it continues to clean itself.
“That doesn’t seem up to the health code,” I whisper to Nick.
“Believe me, it’s not,” the bartender says. She’s a middle-aged woman with dyed bright red hair and double sleeves of tattoos. “But if I move him, he just gets sullen.” To the cat, she says, “And we can’t have that, now can we?”
The cat blinks lazily back as if in agreement.
“We’d like a booth,” Nick says to the bartender. She nods and grabs some menus, coming out from behind the bar and setting them on an empty booth near the back. The place is mostly empty, with only a couple men drinking alone at the bar. I can’t decide if it’s too early or too late for their clientele.
“What’s good here?” I ask Nick.
“Nothing,” he says with a smirk. “I’d go with a bottle. They’re usually cold.”
He puts our orders in with the bartender as I look around. It’s a straight up dive, with a pool table and darts in the back and a busted juke box in the corner. It looks like it’s sat mostly unchanged since the ‘60s. When my eyes go back to his, I realize he’s been watching me intently.
“Aren’t you going to ask?”
“Ask what?”
“Why a billionaire took you to a bar that serves two dollar bottles and has a fragrant disregard for basic hygiene.”
I shrug. “I assume you have a reason for everything you do. I don’t see why this is any different. Wait. Let me guess.” I study his handsome face. It’s hard to read, the emotions constantly flickering and extinguishing like the flame on a trick candle.
“Okay,” I say. “I think you want to see if I’m high maintenance. See if I complain about being brought here.”
He raises an eyebrow and accepts the beer from the waitress. She sets mine in front of me. “So then you’re only pretending to be okay with it because you know that’s what I want to see.”
“Of course not,” I say. “I’d be honest if I didn’t want to be here. I actually think it’s cool. My ex was the trendy sports bar type, so we never went to dives.”
“Ex, huh?” Nick zeros in on my mention of Brent. “And how did the poor fucker mess that up?”
I hesitate, consider lying. I don’t want Nick to feel bad for me. On the other hand, as the weeks in New York have gone by, I’ve felt better and better about where I’m at in life. It wasn’t the plan I’d had laid out for myself, but sitting here in this cool bar with a guy like Nick isn’t exactly a hardship. He won’t pity me if I don’t pity myself, right?
“Fucked my best friend,” I say. The words still hurt to hear aloud, but I manage to keep my tone casual.
Nick winces. “And yet you still believe that people are inherently good?”
“Yep,” I say. “Believed it before, and I still do. Even after everything I went through. Oh, by the way, did I mention that the best friend was also my Maid of Honor?”
Nick, usually so in control of his emotions, is having a hard time suppressing his shock. “You were married?”
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “Engaged to be. Obviously we never went through with it.”
“Wow,” he says. “I’m really sorry, Evie.”
I just shrug again. Dammit, I’m over this! Then why does it feel like tears are threatening to slip down my cheeks?
“So what ended up happening?” he asks softly. His gentle tone only eggs the tears on.
“Sorry,” I say, using my napkin to dab at the corner of my eye. “It’s still a little fresh. As for how it ended up, I don’t know yet. It’s only been a couple months.”
Nick leans back against the booth. He genuinely feels terrible for me; it’s not an act at all. One of his huge hands reaches across the table and covers mine. I jolt slightly at his touch, but then allow myself to be comforted by it. What’s the harm?
“So I know it seems naive and stupid,” I say, “and maybe I am, but I’m also not ready to give up on humanity just yet. Not trying to insult your worldview, but I felt the same way for the first month and it was the most horrible, depressing thing in the world. I don’t know how you stand to live like that.”
“Habit,” Nick says ruefully. Then he looks like he regrets speaking so off the cuff.
“Why do you always look guilty when you’re honest?” I ask.
He pauses.
“No,” I say. “Answer me honestly. Without over-examining things.”
I think for a moment that Nick is going to get angry at my demand, but he doesn’t. Suddenly he looks very tired. “In the past, that’s been a recipe for disaster,” he says.
“How so?” I ask.
Instead of answering Nick looks around the bar, chewing on his lip. His eyes are far away. Then he says, “Everything that I have. Everything that I am. It’s a result of careful planning, of iron will. I think things through. That’s how I escaped my family curse. I almost never do anything spontaneously because that’s where mistakes are made.”
“Like the Seafarer?” I guess.
He nods. “Hit the nail on the head. That was a rash decision and now I’m stuck with it. Though weirdly it’s not the worst choice I’ve made this year.”
“And what is?”
“Approaching you on that train,” he says.
“Ouch. I thought we weren’t negging.”
“I’m not.” Nick’s face is dead serious. “You’re a distraction, Evie. A beautiful distraction. But one I can’t afford, especially not now. I thought I’d be able to keep myself in line with you working for me, but I’m apparently not as strong as I thought I was.”
Wow. He’s really putting it out there. I sip my beer to give myself a moment to think and then say, “Everybody needs distraction now and then.”
“I’m not everyone,” he says. “I’m Nick Madison.”
“Well Nick Madison might need to relax a little bit,” I say with the slightest of smiles. “Because as far as I can see, he’s doing just fine. Maybe it’d be good in the long run to cut loose a little. Have some fun.”
Nick looks doubtful but I don’t push it. I can tell that just having drinks here with me is a big step for him. I don’t know whether to be pleased or nervous that I’ve gotten further than presumably any other girl has with Nick.
“I think the tone has been dour enough for the evening,” I say finally. “Let’s get out of here. You’re not getting any work done tonight, and I’m not wasting another minute thinking about Brent. We’re having fun.”
Nick raises an eyebrow. “And what’s your idea of a good time?” he asks.
I grin widely. “Let me do a quick Google search and then it’s my turn to lead the way.”