Chapter 1
Six nights ago…
Maybe he’s an assassin. Or a Mobster. Or a drug dealer. Or a drug lord.
Definitely a drug lord.
Almost a full twenty-four hours later, I was still tangled in Mister’s sheets.
I need a name.
I had two hours before my shift was to begin at Roulette. Missing it to lie with the unknown was tempting, but I had a job at stake.
My anxious thoughts didn’t muddle the moment. I remained lost in the beauty of the complex creature that had carved a piece of me and stuffed himself inside.
But, do I?My inquisitive nature was hard to defy.
However, somehow, he felt worthy. Knowing nothing was much like knowing enough, for once.
Living in the moment was a tough task for me. This moment, somehow, required it. Obliging, I cleared my head and made space for my heart.
I threw caution to the wind, deciding I’d allow it to lead me. I hadn’t engaged in anything as fulfilling as the night I’d had. Ever.
The fantasies I’d once kept buried inside were brought to life. That had to mean something about this moment, about this man.
I lifted a hand before lowering it on his deep brown, utterly obsessive skin. Every feature had been carefully, and strategically placed. God had broken every rule preparing him, making him extra special for someone special.
For me.
The strength of a man was almost always underestimated. But, the fingers coiled around my hand tightly, surely stopping the blood flow of my fingers, reminded me it was not to be misconstrued.
“Sorry,” I winced, regretting not keeping my hands to myself.
His eyes popped open at once. Incoherent, he observed his surroundings, seemingly confused about everything and nothing, simultaneously.
“Eden?” He looked at me, loosening his grip.
I nodded, confirming my presence. Silence trailed as he sighed and released me. I watched as he came to, swiping a hand across his face.
So troubled.
He checked the clock next to the bed, finally realizing how long he’d slept since we’d eaten hours prior. Our fetish for one another led us back to bed where we’d started, but not before we revisited the room decorated with a lone pole.
I slid down it a few times before sliding down his. My walls were tender. My breasts were sore. The signs of a well-fucked woman were upon me. I hadn’t experienced such pleasurable soreness since I’d first opened my legs at twenty years old.
“I should be leaving. I have work in a little over two hours.”
He said nothing. His silence was agonizing. I wanted to know what he was thinking. I needed to know what he was thinking.
When he rolled out of bed, I was on his heels, quickly remembering I was nude. Chills stalked my body, instantly.
With his features contorting on his face, he pushed out a fresh stream of air as if I’d pushed the wrong button. The sheets came flying off the bed. The flat one coated my skin. Our eyes met as he tucked parts of it between my index fingers and thumbs.
He made it so hard to consider I brought him anything but discomfort. The frowns. The stewing. The brooding.
It all left me wondering and feeling as though I was doing everything wrong. His lack of satisfaction made me thirst for his gratification, validation of some sort.
The flirty vixen he’d met the night before was a pile of mush this morning. She was vulnerable. She was submissive.
I searched deep within for the stellar version, summoning her before I made a fool of myself before and revealed the sheepish girl who still longed for things she was unsure of.
“Say something.”
She was making it so hard for me. My exposure was pending.
“Quit.”
Quit?His demand was incredibly stunning.
“Quit?”
My brows crinkled as I rushed behind him. Every step I took, it seemed as if he took five.
My God, where are you?
“You heard exactly what the fuck I said, Eden.”
“I will do no such thing,” I responded as a smirk tugged at my lips.
About time, girlfriend. I cheered, inside, feeling my power return.
Swiftly, Mister turned around, stopping in his tracks. I almost ran into him, but I halted in time to stop right in front of him. I could feel the heat radiating from him.
It made me slippery down below. Hadn’t I been recovering from the last twenty-something hours, I would’ve encouraged him to dive in. But, I had a job and he had… I wasn’t sure what he had, but business felt plausible.
“Eden, don’t test me, baby. I have no problem having your locker cleaned out and banning you from every club in Clarke.”
“Clarke isn’t the first or last to build strip clubs. Forcing my hand will only make me forget the night we had and the fact you exist, no matter how hard it might be,” I divulged, feeling the hair on my neck stand. “Let’s not become a tragedy so soon, Mister.”
His eyes turned to slits. He contemplated what would come from his mouth next. And I waited, impatiently, needing him to say something.
He was well-calculated. Nothing came from him that he hadn’t studied in his head a hundred times. He was always in his fucking head. And in mine.
“Forcing my hand will fill your conscience with guilt and have you paying your respects at a new funeral every fucking weekend. You won’t have time to have your black dress dry-cleaned before you’re putting it on again. And again. And again.”
“For a man whose name I can’t have, you are territorial.”
“What’s mine is mine, Eden. Understand that.”
“I’m not quitting. Not yet. When I’m ready, y–”
“You’ve made yourself clear. So have I.”
“I–”
“End of discussion.”
He bore into me with dark eyes and a menacing glower. His merciless gaze pebbled my nipples and caused my breath to hike in my chest. I wasn’t able to breathe again until he turned, leaving a pang in my chest that traveled up my throat, and sat.
He trudged toward the bathroom. Helplessly, I followed him. The man had struck me with unfathomably good dick and expected me to manage my own footing in his presence. I wasn’t sure if half my brain was working, but I knew he was capable of thinking for us both tonight.
“Leave the sheet. Come shower so I can take you and that smart-ass mouth home. I’m seconds away from stuffing it.”
Please.
The sheet fell to the floor as I escaped its expansiveness. Cold marble touched the tips of my toes. Mister stopped at the urinal and nodded for me to take the toilet not too far from it. Suddenly, the urge to relieve myself returned. I’d forgotten it when I opened my eyes and found him sleeping peacefully beside me.
I stared straight ahead, eyes trained on the empty shower as my release commenced. Mister’s eyes hadn’t left me, yet. He shot daggers in my direction, having never loosened the frown on his handsome face.
“Smile more,” I demanded, craving his white teeth and dimpled cheeks. They’d hidden behind gold, diamond-encrusted plates the night before.
“When I have a reason, I will.”
“Am I not a reason?”
Finally, my eyes met his.
“You’re a thorn, Eden. Don’t shit feel good about a thorn.”
“I find that hard to believe, Mister.”
“Believe it, baby.”
“You’ve been contradicting yourself all night.”
“I’m a glutton for affliction, it seems. Trouble doesn’t follow me. I follow it.”
“One minute, you’re passion. Next, you’re pain.”
He took his eyes off me momentarily to be sure he’d shook himself dry. I wiped myself, smearing the results of ovulation from my center. Emergency contraceptive were on the list of things to consume within the next seventy-two hours.
“I don’t like riddles. Be clear about whatever it is you’re saying, Eden.”
“You’re a fascinating creature, but I despise your ability to make a fool of my feelings.”
“Your feelings?” He kissed his teeth. “Should they matter yet?”
I scoffed, nodding. He was a fucking riddle. It was probably why he hated them so much.
I stood up and the toilet flushed automatically, startling me. My departure was imperative at this point. Seemingly, Mister had forgotten the night we’d had.
The day we’d had. The moments we’d shared. The spit we’d swapped. The kisses we hated to end. The bodily fluids we bathed in.
“I can shower at home. Is there a car waiting? Will you take me? How does this work? I can manag–”
I lost track of my thoughts as his chest neared me. My vision blurred as his scent engulfed me. My head spun upon realizing he wasn’t stopping. And when he entangled our fingers, pushing them above my head and me against the wall behind us, I shuttered.
“Plea–”
“Eden, baby.”
One minute, you’re passion. Next, you’re pain
“You’re driving me mad,” I admitted, aching all over.
His lips brushed against my ear, weakening me.
“They matter.”
His never-ending quest to confuse me was always successful. Right or wrong, I wasn’t sure if I was either.
Still, I longed for him. More of him. Regardless of what came from his mouth or how much he furrowed those thick brows, that any woman would kill for.
“You’re intolerable.”
He’d claimed I was, but I felt more of the same.
“I know.”
Silence hovered before he spoke again.
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. But when I figure it out, I want you right here. Still.”
He’d reached my core with his words. Leaving him so soon didn’t feel possible anymore. I wanted to stay, but I knew I couldn’t. It was time to part ways, as difficult as that might’ve seemed.
His lips rested against mine as he struggled, internally, with his next move. I made the decision for him. I wasn’t as poised. As calculated. As critical. Not with him, at least. I sunk my teeth in his top lip, not pulling back until I heard him wince from pain.
When his mouth slacked in surprise, I stuck my tongue inside, desperate to taste the blood I’d drawn. His fingers loosened around mine. I felt them, seconds later, on the sides of my face, deepening our kiss. Deepening our connection. When he’d had enough, he pushed away.
Lowered lids and glossed eyes told of his inebriation because he wasn’t willing. Drunkenly, we both stumbled into the shower where lingering touches and longing stares continued. We cleansed our bodies and exited the shower without exploring more of each other physically. Mentally, however, it was out of our control.
Blindfolded, he delivered me to my address without ever asking for it. I climbed out of the truck with him on my tail. Just before the entrance, he stopped.
I fought the urge to invite him up. He, too, was fighting something. Not even the dark shades, fitted cap, and hoodie could conceal his hunger.
“Eden,” he called out, stopping me in my tracks.
“Yes.”
He paused, confirming his next choice of words was suitable.
“I enjoyed every second of our encounter.”
Stunned by his confession, I placed a hand on my chest where it hurt.
“When will I see you again?”
“When I’m ready.”
“When you’re ready? Miste–”
“I’m not selfish in my decision, Eden. I just have a lot of shit going on up here. Give me time. I’m overstimulated.”
I’d been there. I understood exactly where he was.
“Then, a number. A name. Something. How will I contact you when I can’t stand the time between us any longer?”
“When you need me, I’ll know. And I’ll come. Always.”
Always. That must’ve been wondrous. Always having someone like him near.
“How?”
“I’m waiting, Eden. And I’m watching.”
“Watc–”
“Goodnight.”
In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Presently…
“Earth to Johanson!” Jack yelled, snapping his fingers.
Out of your head, Egypt.
It was easier said than done. Seven nights ago, I met someone magical. Someone mystical. Six nights ago, he’d left me at the entrance of my building and I’d been swallowed into an abyss ever since.
Maddening, he was. And I was still trying to decipher my feelings. I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or completely dazed. His presence felt make-believe. Not as if it hadn’t happened, but as if it was just unreal. Far too good to be true.
But, the thudding between my legs each time I thought of him assured me it was real. He was real. Regal, but real.
To make matters worse, I always thought of him. There was hardly a moment when he wasn’t on my mind. Walking around with an irregular heartbeat in my chest and my cooch was torture.
“Have you heard a word we’ve said?” Macy asked.
A roll of the eyes wasn’t enough to display my disdain for her. I needed her to hear me clearly. Unfortunately, I was unable to get my mouse across the screen to click the microphone button.
The mouse pad I’d pulled from my closet once given this assignment was bent out of shape and needed to be replaced. I’d told myself thirteen times I would grab a new one while I was out.
This time, I promise.
Frustrated, I picked the mouse up and slammed it on the desk, shoving the pad toward the edge. That didn’t help much.
Finally.
I made it across the screen to tap the button.
“Macy, against my will, I have heard every word you’ve said. Sorry, Jack. Running over some details.”
“Care to share?” Bradford chimed in, sipping the coffee from his mug.
Ugh. I sighed, wishing I could spend my mornings at the facility and not staring at my screen for morning meetings. Field assignments had their perks, but this wasn’t one of them. I could smell the medium roast with creamer in his cup through the screen.
Two creamers. Four packs of sugar. I knew his preference because I fixed us both a cup each morning when I got in if I didn’t stop by the coffee spot right at the corner of 2nd Street and Poplar. He was the only person I’d consider going the scenic route for. I loved my team, but they’d shown me time and time again they weren’t worthy of my trust.
“Can you wait until this meeting concludes to finish your coffee? I’m jealous.”
“You’re put up in a beautiful loft you had a damn good budget to decorate, sitting in front of a desk in front of a window overlooking the beautiful city of Clarke. We’re all jealous!” Bradford teased, taking a long sip. “Now, care to share?”
Shaking my thoughts clear of Mister, I tapped into the young woman on a mission to make her father proud. Though he’d left us years ago, I still felt him with me on each assignment. Like him, I’d taken a liking to problem-solving and landed a job in the same realm he’d held ranking for most of his career.
“I’m making strides. The owner still hasn’t shown face, at least I haven’t been able to put a face to the name.”
“Name?” Macy questioned.
“Yes. I have a name now.”
“We’re listening,” Jack told me, standing from his desk and moving toward the board we’d been scribbling on as a team for months. It should’ve been filled to the brim but we hardly knew anything. Many months of intel led us nowhere.
Someone had to get in the field. For three months, I took pole lessons twice a week to make sure that someone was me. There was no way I was giving the opportunity to Macy.
“The Madam.”
“The Madam?” Bradford nearly choked on his coffee.
“Yes.”
“So, we’re dealing with a woman?”
“Supposedly. She, she, she. They’re a very private bunch of women working, but when they mention The Madam, they’re referring to a woman.”
“Goddamnit. I wasn’t expecting that.” Jack gasped.
“There’s a meeting happening soon. Apparently, they don’t happen often but when they do, she selects a few women to attend for the entertainment of her guests. I need to be in that meeting, Jack.”
“Does it look like you’ll be in the lineup?”
“I will make sure I am. If I sit this one out, there’s no telling when there will be another one.”
“Good. Good. Yeah. We need you there.”
“Any illegal activities you’ve witnessed so far?” Macy spoke.
“Nothing of importance. Nothing worth jeopardizing the investigation to pursue.”
“Let’s focus on the task at hand, Macy. The Grey List. anything else is irrelevant,” Bradford added.
“Is there anything else?”
“No. Nothing I can think of.”
“Alright. Check-in is next week. See you then, Johanson.”
“I look forward to it more than anything.”
I ended the video call, wondering if I was truly looking forward to the next meeting with my team more than I was my next meeting with Mister.
Not even a little, I admitted.
My legs stretched one in front of the other as I moved toward the large window. On the sixteenth floor of my building, I could see most of downtown Clarke. It was breathtaking, making me consider selling my home in Windridge to live the high-rise life.
Valet emptied your trash, parked your car, and handled your bags if you came in with any. Because it was only me, it still felt spacious as my home. I didn’t have many complaints.
My arms locked underneath my breast as I leaned against the window. The city continued to move in his absence, but for me, life stood still. I couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of moving forward. Everything stopped.
“Where are you?” I whispered.
There hadn’t been a mystery I wasn’t eager to solve since I was a child. It was the reason I’d landed the job I had and quickly rose to the top of the force. But this time, for the very first time in my life, the allure surrounded his mystique.
It was thrilling. Exciting, like the childhood memory of sticking your hand inside a box fan to slow down the blades or stop them from spinning completely. He was the blade.
I was the fool who was willing to try to slow him down or stop him long enough to notice me, again. Long enough to kiss me feverishly. Long enough to hold me through the night. Long enough to make my center cream like he once had.
“You could be anywhere out there.”
But, you’re near. I feel you.
His promise to always be there when I needed him hadn’t escaped my mind. I was still trying to determine when he’d realized I was beyond the desire of him. My hunger for him had become apparent four days ago. I was famished standing next to the window.
My vibrating phone pulled me from the edge. I slid it from the pocket of my Levi’s seeing my best friend calling. Without hesitation, I answered, hoping she could make sense of the situation I’d found myself in.
“Art.”
“Hey, babe. What’s up?”
“Nothing.” I sighed. “Just finished another check-in with the team.”
“Was it that bad?” she probed. “You sound disappointed.”
“It went well.”
“Good, then what’s the matter?”
Our parents had been best friends since high school. They all left Clarke for college immediately after. It was a basement party for a mutual’s return to the city after graduating that brought them all back together. My mother and Art’s mom. My father and Art’s father.
The two pairs of best friends reconnected over punch that was heavily infused with cheap liquor, handheld bites to eat, and Blues. Though the party ended, None of them were ready to go home, so they continued their shenanigans at my father’s brand new, unfurnished studio apartment with a three-dollar box of pizza and a one-liter Coke in tow. My mother never left after that day. Art’s mother and father became inseparable, too.
First, my brother joined the couple. I was next. They ended their child-bearing days with my sister. Art’s parents had three children of their own as well. Two boys and Art. Like me, she was the middle child. We were born in the same year as well.
“Is it possible to miss someone you haven’t truly met?” I dropped my head, staring at the new pair of black socks that covered my feet.
“Egypt.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “You have.”
“But, have I?”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t I have a name or a number to contact him?” I chuckled.
Laugh to keep from crying.The saying registered with me at the moment.
“Tell me, Egypt, with honesty… would having his name change anything about the time you spent together? Would it have made it better?”
“No.”
“Then, don’t worry. He’s made it clear he’s coming back. He just needs to clear his head.”
“This is why you’ve been married as long as you have been. This is why your marriage is so damn successful.”
“Why is that?” She laughed.
“Because you have the patience of a mother with five little ones.”
“The thought of having five children isn’t sitting well with me. Five is an odd number, so that’s definitely not going to work for me.”
“Then, four.”
“Better.”
“I have no patience for this man. I want him right now and having no way to tell him I– I’m just going on and on about me. I’m sure you didn’t call to hear me go on about him, too. What’s up, girlfriend?” I smacked my lips, trying my best to shake him from my thoughts. I failed. Miserably.
“Please don’t agitate me,” she warned as if it was possible.
I’d known Art her entire life. I could count on my fingers how many times she’d gotten bothered or had her panties in a bunch. And that was using one hand.
“Ugh.”
“No way to tell him what?”
I was in no rush to spill, but with Art, I didn’t have a choice.
“No way to tell him I miss him.”
“Awwwww. My girl has the blues.”
“Something awful, Art. As much as I want to, I can’t deny it.”
“I’ve been there. If no one else understands, I do.”
She’d met her husband and spent a lovely night with him. Two days later, a business emergency pulled him away from her for three weeks. She was lovesick and positive she’d fallen for a man she’d only known forty-eight hours. Nothing in her world was right until he returned. When he did, he wasn’t empty-handed.
“I know.”
“So, listen to me when I tell you there is no need to worry. He will return. And when he does, you’ll forget his absence existed because his presence will be so consuming. You’ll forget everything except how good it feels to have him near.”
“I need to forget today, then. Right now,” I joked.
“Now is not the time,” she replied.
“I guess it’s not. Anyway, what are you up to?”
“Nothing. My usual. I just called to hear your voice. I might just miss you a little.”
“A little? Should I hang up now or keep listening to you lie?”
“Okay, maybe it’s more than a little. I was thinking we could do dinner sometime next week.”
“The case, Art.”
“God, how’d I neglect that thought? Right. The case. Maybe next month or next quarter or next year or ne–”
“Hush, lady. I will sneak away for you and you know it. Just give me some time to carve a hole in my schedule big enough for us to catch up. This one is different from the others. I have to be careful. As simple as dinner might sound, it’s not so simple this time around.”
“Then, I’ll wait.”
“I’ll find a way.”
“I won’t let you, babe. I will wait.”
“Okay.” I hated to disappoint her. “FaceTime date?”
“I’ll take it,” she sang.
“Good. Let’s aim for a weekday. My weekends are spent on the case. A Tuesday, maybe?” I couldn’t go into detail but I knew Art would understand regardless.
“Tuesday is fine,” she agreed cheerfully.
“Okay. I’ll send over the details later.”
“I love you, Egypt. And I will be waiting for your message.”
“Love you back, Art. Talk to you later.”
The call ended and my emotionally charged stupor continued. Before I could pull myself from the window, light rain began to tap against it. It hadn’t been in the forecast, but the clouds that hung low and sagged with water molecules were indications it might not hold off until tomorrow.
Gloom lingered, but there was something special about the way rain announced itself so subtly yet profound. It reminded me of him. So did the sign of the steakhouse on the corner next to the florist shop I visited often. The perfection of the lightly seasoned filet mignon from the night Mister and I dined made my mouth water.
“He wants to make it home, Eden. Don’t end his life tonight because you’re fascinated with the thrill.”
His words taunted me. His confidence aroused me. I clung to everything that came from his oversized lips which were incredibly soft against my center. I remembered them most because the few times that turned upward, they revealed dimpled cheeks and regularly serviced white teeth.
Maybe Mister was wrong, or only partially accurate in his assumption. It was him I was fascinated with, too, not only the thrill. Maybe it was because, for as long as I could remember, following the rules got me further than disobeying them.
Following the rules had given me more awards than my shelf could hold. Following the rules was rewarding, in my career and personal life. I was the only one of three children who actually followed the rules, which was evident in the differences between my siblings and me.
Following the rules made my parents proud time and time again because if I didn’t, their children would only be the source of sore memories. I had to follow the rules. I had to make them smile, for my siblings” sake. For our parents” sanity. I was the only hope.
But, rebellion, it felt so damn good. Too good, almost. I pushed out warm, pent-up frustrations as I continued gawking at the business across the way. My skin pimpled at the possibilities of my night if all went as planned.
It’s not Prime House, but it will suffice, I reasoned, shoving a hand in my black jeans as I began to pace from one end of the loft to the other, searching my contacts for the newest addition.
Dyson. He’d insisted on entering his number in the event I was ready for the night of my life. He was oblivious, hardly understanding I’d already experienced it. To my despair, the man who’d provided it had been missing ever since.
Tonight, he’d be the replacement. A medium-well steak and attention from a new stranger I’d met during work hours would keep my mind occupied and off him long enough to breathe again I supposed. Or, somehow summon the beast. Either, I was willing to accept, but the ladder had moisture forming on the seat of my panties.
Winters in Clarke were unpredictable. On this particular, late winter’s night, temperatures were in the high seventies. The rain had dampened the streets, leaving such a muggy cast and prominent scent across the city.
I strolled into Blanche Steakhouse in a black satin number swayed with each move I made. Because the weather was perfect, I left the winter wear home and exchanged it for the strappy piece and platform sandals that matched its sex appeal.
With my chin upward, I searched for the bar, where Dyson claimed to have been waiting for the last six minutes. That’s how long it took me to get from my complex to the doorstep of Blanche. Before I walked out of my door and wasted a look, I needed to make sure he’d be there.
I noticed the meaty fella almost immediately. His eyes were pinned against me, mentally stripping me of the few fabrics that graced my skin. I approached with an extended hand and a smile that felt unreal. Being in any man’s presence other than the one who had left a lasting impression on me all those nights ago felt degrading. I swallowed the lump I’d caught in my throat.
“Eden,” I introduced myself, deciding it was probably better than my stage name since our setting had changed.
“Real name.” He chuckled. “We’ve made progress already.”
“Possibly.”
“Our table is ready. Decided to grab a drink before I took off and it was too hard for you to find me. It’s a packed house tonight.”
“I see.”
Dyson tossed the rest of his drink back, allowing the alcohol to burn the back of his throat before slamming the glass on the bar top. I followed him, weary of my surroundings suddenly.
My eyes disconnected with the handsome man who’d been waiting for my arrival and began scanning parts of the restaurant that were visible to me. An unsettling feeling coiled my stomach, knotting it with a pang that was incredibly uncomfortable.
I could feel my brows hunch in disarray. I could feel my eyes roaming the openness with speed, carefully documenting each face. I could feel my heart rate increase. I could feel the atmosphere shift. I could feel everything around me slowly blur until finally we reached our table.
He’s here.
I hadn’t laid an eye on him, but his presence was that potent. I could feel him even though I couldn’t see him. Hairs on the nape of my neck stood first. The rest followed, brushing against my dress as I sat down.
Dyson never pulled out his chair. He never joined me. Instead, he stood beside me, peering down at me as his fingers traced a circle on my shoulder. My attention was divided until I realized his hand was on me and he was saying something I should probably hear.
“I’m going to the restroom. I’ll be right back, aight?”
I closed my eyes, trying to calm my raging heart. My head lifted and fell twice. “Okay.”
When I was alone, I unsealed my eyelids, imagining he’d be right there. Right before me. Across the table, with curious, angered eyes, suggested he wasn’t pleased with the choices I’d made.
Fuck. He wasn’t. All that occupied the seat across from me was air. Mister was nowhere in sight.
I’m going mad, I admitted. That man is not here and he’s probably not even thinking about me right now.
I shook my head clear of the haze and picked up the glass of water in front of me. With my other hand, I grabbed the menu to begin reviewing the night’s selections.
Enjoy your night, Egypt.
I’d try my hardest. That was a promise I was making to myself so the success of my night didn’t depend on a man who had possibly forgotten I existed by now.
I studied the menu, mapping my meal plan with precision. The first on my list was the lamb bites that were served with a house-made dressing as an appetizer. The seafood spinach dip was another appetizer I’d love to try. A salad was included with every entree. I’d settle for the caesar. Finally, a steak with loaded mash and broccolini would complete my meal.
Time stretched as I waited for Dyson’s return. I altered between peeking at the time on my phone and behind me where he’d gone toward the restrooms. With each passing minute, his disappearance was becoming clearer.
This is why I don’t care about entertaining men. I gnawed my bottom lip as I placed the call to his cell. It didn’t stop ringing until the voicemail met me on the line. I tried once more and got the same results.
In total disbelief, I stood and pushed my chair back up to the table. Though I wanted to try his cell once more, I knew there wasn’t a point. He’d been such a fleeting figure, that I wouldn’t notice his absence. From the moment he’d greeted me at Roulette, I imagined he was all fluff. His disappearing act was all the evidence I needed to confirm my suspicions.
A fucking joke and a waste of effort. I strolled out of Blanche Steakhouse with as much credence as I’d strolled in with. Only this time, it was coupled with annoyance and self-criticism that wasn’t necessarily fair but reasonable.
Two feet out into the muggy air, my heart stopped completely. There he stood, hands folded in front of him, pressuring his shirt to expose more of his chest and the definition of his arms.
Dark, devilish eyes donned me. They hounded me for repayment, time lost, and the worry I’d caused. Before I could begin to acknowledge my debts and begin paying, his baritone stiffened me wholly.
“Get in the fucking car, Eden.”
He lifted himself from the hood, stretching his body to meet his full length, and undoing me, simultaneously. Defiance was easier than compliance. I stood, unmoving, as he waited at the door of a matte black Mercedes with black rims made it look completely unreal in the dark of the night.
“Eden.” He groaned, as if speaking to me at his current capacity was painful.
I hoped it hurt, just like his absence had made my heart tender and my head sore.
“Where is my date?”
“Get in the fucking car before I put you in the car.”
“Where is my date?” I repeated myself, desperate to know where the man I’d come to meet had gone. It was obvious Mister had everything to do with his inability to return to our table.
“Now is not the time to test me. I will fail. I will fail miserably,” he grumbled angrily. “I have no limits, Eden. None. Don’t fuck around or you will find out, swiftly and without remorse.”
“Whe–”
In a flash, he was in my face, his breath making the strands of hair that were ring-curled and hanging swing backward.
“In the car. Right now.” Slowly, yet forcefully, he demanded movement.
This time, unlike the others, I was swayed. My feet began moving before I could protest. In seconds, I was in the front seat with a seatbelt over my body and a furious driver. My back slammed against the seat as he burned the rubber of his tires, speeding down the street.
My God. I thudded at the center, realizing why he had a driver. He was a menace behind the wheel. It frightened and fascinated me at once.