10. Ezra
Chapter 10
Ezra
M y knees ache a bit from my stint as a statue in Atticus’ office earlier today as I walk through the penthouse, mentally ticking off things on my to-do list to give to my assistant when I walk by the living room and see the object that is taking up most of my thoughts.
Lemon's sitting by the window, staring out at the city like it's got all the answers to her problems. Her shoulders are stiff, and there's this faraway look in her eyes. With her chin in her hand, she looks young. Well, she is young, but she looks far more delicate right now. Just an air of melancholy surrounds her. I can't stand seeing her like this. So lost, so tense, and avoiding me. She can avoid Atticus all she wants. Even I need to get away from him sometimes, so I get it. I stride over, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey," I murmur, leaning in close enough that my breath brushes her ear. "You look like you’re spiraling."
She jumps slightly at my touch, those eyes snapping back to reality. There's a flicker of annoyance, but it melts away when she sees my grin .
"Ezra, what do you want?" she asks, trying to sound exasperated, but there's a tremor in her voice. She tries to keep me at arm’s length, but we both know she likes the way I make her feel, or the fact I cook her vegan meals.
No, it’s definitely both.
"Lemon, you've been avoiding both me and Atticus for a couple of days, and you've kept your fine ass glued to this window nook or your bedroom whenever we’re here," I say, my voice dipping low enough that it rumbles through her. "Enough is enough."
She raises an eyebrow but doesn't pull away. Her fingers twitch on the sill as if they want to reach out and grab something solid.
"I'm not avoiding you," she says, but her voice lacks conviction.
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Right, and I'm richer than Bill Gates." I slide into the seat next to her, squishing us together in the tight space. Being this close to her is inebriating and all I want to do is peel her out of her clothes and sink my teeth and hands in to her.
She snorts softly, almost laughing despite her effort not to. "Do you ever stop playing?"
"Yes, but right now you need me to be nice and not more, let's call it Atti-like," I reply, and there's an edge to my tone she can't ignore. Am I the fun guy? Yes, but I can be demanding all the same.
Her shoulders relax just a bit. Maybe it's my proximity or the fact that she understands I'm not leaving until she snaps out of it. Either way, she shifts closer to me, unconsciously seeking warmth.
"What’s really bothering you?" I ask, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers linger on her skin longer than they should. Atticus would be spitting bullets if he saw me right now. He told me to leave her be and let her come to him, to us. But I’ve never been a patient man, and that’s paid off well for me.
She doesn’t give in, just kind of sighs and has a little pout on her face. It’s fucking adorable, but if I have to see her listlessly spend another night like this, I might lose it.
"Come on," I say, giving her a playful nudge. "I wanna show you something."
A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, reluctant but visible. “You’re overwhelming.”
“So I’ve been told.” I stand up straight and extend a hand to her.
She hesitates, gnawing at her bottom lip. That vulnerability makes her look even sweeter. "Ezra, I'm not really in the mood..."
I chuckle softly. "I don’t care about your mood right now while you’re being unkind to yourself. Trust me, you need this." I take her hand and pull her to her feet. She's reluctant, but follows as we leave the penthouse behind.
As we step out of the building the city hums with life. Neon lights flash, painting the streets in hues of pink and blue. The air's thick with the scent of street food—hot dogs, pretzels, and all the spices.
"Ezra, wait," she starts, but I’m already opening the passenger door of my Audi R8. I reach for the seatbelt, sliding it across her body, taking my sweet time as I buckle her in.
"Safety first," I wink, my fingers brushing against her waist. She shivers, and I can’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction.
"Where are we going?" she demands, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. Her curiosity is piqued, and that’s exactly what I was aiming for.
"Breaking you out of your self-imposed prison and getting you some fresh air," I say, sliding into the driver’s seat and revving the engine.
The engine roars as we take off, the lights of New Haven blurring past us. I glance over at Lemon, catching her biting her lip, a habit she leans on far too much. It’s sexy as hell.
"Relax," I tell her, placing a hand on her thigh. I feel her muscles tense under my touch, then slowly relax. "You’re gonna enjoy this."
When we pull up to Midnight Oasis, my jewel of a nightclub, her eyes widen. "Ezra, I’m not dressed for this," she says, looking down at herself.
"Bellezza," I reply, my eyes raking over her body appreciatively, skin-tight jeans hugging every curve, black v-neck t-shirt showing just enough to drive me wild, and those little sandals that somehow make her look both innocent and utterly fuckable. "Whatever you’re wearing is perfect. Hell, I'd change the whole club’s fucking dress code for you if I had to."
"Seriously?"
"I joke often, but this isn’t me tee-heeing," I affirm, squeezing her thigh lightly. "Whatever you are wearing at any time is appropriate at all of my businesses. I’ll send out a fucking memo."
The door opens, and the music hits us like a wave of heavy bass and pulsing beats. The smell of sweat, alcohol, and sandalwood fills the air. I guide her through the crowd, my hand possessively on the small of her back. She’s mine tonight, and everyone should know it.
"Mr. Stratton!" someone calls out, but I ignore them, instead throwing my hand up acknowledging I heard them and I don’t give a fuck. My focus is solely on Lemon. We weave through bodies, the atmosphere thick with anticipation and lust. People glance our way, some with envy, others with recognition.
"You're quite the celebrity here," Lemon says, her voice filled with awe and amusement.
"Perks of owning the place," I wink, squeezing her waist. "Everyone wants a piece of me."
"Is that so?" she teases, raising an eyebrow.
"Jealous?" I smirk, loving the way her eyes spark with challenge.
"Hardly," she shoots back, though the slight flush on her cheeks tells a different story.
"Good," I say, leaning in close so my lips brush against her ear. "Because you're the only one I'm interested in tonight."
"Smooth talker. I don’t think Atticus would like that," she laughs, but there's a flicker of interest in her eyes.
"Just wait," I promise, guiding her toward the VIP section. The bouncer steps aside without a word. Inside, the music is louder, the lights dimmer, and the air thick with anticipation. The oasis to hide all the dirty little things one can get up to while out and about.
It’s perfect.
"Are all your clubs this intense?" Lemon asks, her voice barely audible over the music.
"Yes to a degree, but it gets worse when I’m here," I wink, leaning close so only she can hear. "And especially when you're with me. Everyone wants my attention and they’re desperate to know who it is that has captured it."
"Captured?" She bites her lip, almost nervously, but I can see the intrigue in her eyes .
"You have no idea," I murmur back, my fingers tracing lazy circles on her hip.
“What about Atticus? Does he come with you?”
"No," I chuckle, shaking my head. "He's more into my restaurants. Indulging in fine dining before moving on to other carnal things elsewhere."
She laughs, a sound that vibrates through me like a drug. "So he doesn't dance?"
"He can dance," I admit. "But he'd rather save his energy for other activities. He’s been here and to a few of my other clubs, but mostly before we open." I wink at her, causing another bout of laughter.
I pull her close, my hand sliding down to her hip as I guide her toward one of the plush couches that makes you sink in so deep you forget where you end and it begins. "Sit," I command gently, pushing her down onto the velvet cushion and dropping next to her, draping an arm around her shoulders. She fits perfectly against me, like she was meant to be here.
"Drink?" I ask, signaling a passing server with a sharp nod. He approaches immediately, recognizing the urgency in my gaze.
"Sure," Lemon murmurs, her eyes wandering around the luxurious room. She seems both fascinated and overwhelmed.
I order a pair of drinks, making sure hers is sweet but strong enough to ease her anxiety. The server returns swiftly, placing crystal tumblers filled with golden liquid on the low table before us. Lemon takes hers tentatively, sipping and then licking her lips in an unconscious yet tantalizing gesture that stirs something visceral within me.
"How do you like it?" I ask after a few moments.
"It's good," she replies softly. "Different, but really good."
Unable to help myself, I pull her onto my lap, feeling the heat of her body against mine. Her breath hitches, and I hear her mumble to herself about how I just man-handled her like it was nothing.
Good, she should know that she’s got that and so much more waiting for her once she agrees to Atticus’ little deal.
A go-go dancer with glittering eyes and minimal clothing saunters over, putting two more glasses filled with something bright on our table.
"Okay," she says finally, relaxing more into me as the drink starts to work its magic. "This isn't so bad and maybe you were right and I did need to get away."
"Told you." My hand moves from her hip to her thigh, feeling the way her muscles tense and relax under my touch.
She takes another sip.
Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, savoring the taste and the sensation. The music pulses around us like a living entity, wrapping us in its embrace. My phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking the spell only slightly. I glance at it while Lemon gets up to put her empty glass on the table and grab another drink. A message from Atticus lights up the screen.
Everything
I see you, Ezra. You’re being a very naughty playboy, aren’t you?
A smirk tugs at my lips as I slide the phone back into my pocket. I knew as soon as he noticed we were gone, he’d access the club cameras. Usually, he only does so when he wants to watch me in my office and I do love putting on a show for him.
I’m gonna be in so much trouble for taking her out without telling him, and it makes me fucking giddy.
When Lemon has a full drink in hand, I pull her into my lap again, this time with deliberate slowness. My fingers stroke along her arm, trailing up to her shoulder and then down the curve of her back. She shivers, a tiny gasp escaping her lips as she melts into me.
My hands move to her hair now, threading through the silky strands as if I'm memorizing every texture. She sighs softly and leans into my touch, her own hand grazing along my thigh absentmindedly. Every motion is for Atticus' eyes as much as it’s for Lemon's comfort.
"Relax," I whisper into her ear, my breath hot against her skin. “Nothing is happening. We’re just two friends, hanging out, where one friend wants to devour you inch by inch, but Daddy Asshole I mean Atticus says I have to behave.”
My hand slides up her thigh, imagining the smoothness of her skin beneath the denim of her jeans. Her breath hitches again, but this time she leans into it, letting herself be guided by me. I can feel the tension ebbing away from her shoulders.
"Ezra," she murmurs half-heartedly, a hint of reluctance still in her voice.
"He didn’t say that you had to behave, though. Not yet at least," I assure her softly. "Just let go and feel normal for the night."
“Ezra..." she says my name again, but I cut her off with a kiss. Her lips are soft, yielding, tasting faintly of the Hurricane Haven she’s been sipping on. It's sweet and a little bit tart, making me want more.
I can feel her starting to unwind finally.
She moans softly, her hands gripping my shoulders.
"Fuck," I breathe, pulling back slightly.
“I—” she cuts herself off and looks away from me, eyes half-lidded.
"You had something to say. Say it, beautiful girl." I urge, my voice low and intimate, barely audible over the throbbing music. My hand slides up her back, fingers grazing the soft fabric of her t-shirt.
“That feels really good, but I don’t know if I can do this.”
"You’ve only got a short amount of time left to decide, Lemon," I remind her, voice low against the backdrop of thumping bass.
Her eyes open, the green depths staring back at me. "What?"
"Before Atticus rescinds the offer. Before this…let’s call it an opportunity slips through your fingers," I clarify, my fingers tracing slow circles on her lower back.
She bites her lip. "Ezra, I..." She hesitates, words catching in her throat like thorns.
"Tell me," I coax, tightening my grip around her waist. "Whatever it is, just say it."
Lemon's eyes drop to where her thighs are slung over my legs. She takes a deep breath; the words spilling out in a rush as if afraid they might choke her if kept inside any longer. “I'm scared because I'm not that experienced and...it feels like I'm essentially going to be a prostitute.”
I lean in closer, pressing my forehead to hers. “Look at me,” I demand softly.
Her eyes meet mine, wide and searching.
“You’re not a fucking prostitute,” I state firmly. “You have a choice, an option. And do you think I’m a prostitute because I fucked someone years ago, and they invested in my businesses? Everything always has a bit of a transactional aspect to it. You get into a relationship and he buys you a necklace and then you swoon and blow him…is that not a form of a transaction, regardless if it's stated or not? We’re just living, surviving, and hopefully th riving or on our way to it. Life isn’t black and white, Lemon.”
Her brows knit together in uncertainty, and I know she’s battling some morality that society forces on women. Not just women, but they seem to carry the brunt of it just like most things in this life. Women are literal life givers and they never stop giving to society and the world in so many different ways and yet as a collective we don’t appreciate it. Society is cruel to women, and it’s disgusting.
“Bellezza,” I continue, voice dropping an octave lower. “You’re young and a little na?ve. We all have been there. You choose how you tackle life and no one who’s worth a fuck is going to judge you for it.”