Chapter Fourteen
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Soren
She was lying to me.
I hadn’t exactly been idle since the last time I’d seen her. I knew that, if I wanted to protect myself and my business, I had to get to the bottom of the gut instinct that Saff wasn’t what she portrayed herself to be.
It didn’t take much digging to learn that Saff Amato—or even Saffron Amato—hadn’t existed ten years ago.
She told me she’d changed her first name.
But at some point, she’d clearly changed her last one as well. Because in this day and age, it was almost impossible not to have a trail leading back to you at some point from birth to her mid-twenties.
When that search turned up nothing, I set my sights on her company. Which didn’t even exist.
Amato Holdings was simply a crummy office with a plaque on the door. Not a real business.
I honestly wasn’t even surprised by that information.
None of it ever sat right with me.
I mean, when she was in slacks, heels, and a blouse, she walked like a newborn giraffe, stumbling around on wobbly legs. But when she was in jeans, boots, and a tee? She had an undeniable swagger, a loud confidence that filled the air around her.
She wasn’t who she said she was.
And I hated being deceived, even if I knew that made me a complete hypocrite.
And, yet, I couldn’t talk myself out of wanting her, of reminding my doorman about her, of hoping and praying I might see those elevator doors slide open and have her walk in.
It had become such a fantasy that I almost didn’t believe my eyes when I walked down to find her standing there.
As soon as she was there, all that other shit, it fell away.
All that mattered was her.
Was us.
Was whatever the hell had been simmering between us since the moment we’d met.
Hell, since the moment I saw her on the street outside of my office building.
It had taken superhuman self-control to take my time with her, to go slow, to soak up every moment, each sensation.
Because some part of me was terrified I’d never get another chance.
The way she’d tensed as soon as it was done told me how dangerously close I was to that being the case.
Somehow, though, I’d convinced her to stay.
Eventually, she even melted against me as my arms held her. Then, slowly, as my fingers skimmed over her, she drifted off to sleep.
And she slept like the dead for seven straight hours.
I’d been with her most of that time.
But my own internal clock insisted on getting up around five. When I would usually head off to the gym.
Instead, I slipped out of bed to shower and make coffee.
As I walked back into the bedroom with two mugs, I froze.
And it came rushing back again with painful clarity.
She was lying to me.
The morning light spilled over her naked body, making need stir again. Until my gaze went to her hair.
It had never been a trick of light.
Her hair was blue.
It had been dark the night before, and whatever temporary dye she used was still there in part, but in the harsh morning sun, the strands were more blue than brown.
My hands tightened on the mug handles, a strange churning sensation moving through my stomach.
I despised being lied to professionally.
But things with Saff had never been strictly professional.
Being lied to personally was a whole different kind of terrain. And I didn’t have the right boots, compass, or skills to navigate it.
I did know one thing, though.
Saff was not going to let me grill her for more information. Not if I wanted to be able to have her in my life.
And, after last night, there was no denying that I did.
Almost desperately.
Not wanting to wake her, I set the mug on the nightstand beside her, then made my way back downstairs, where my phone was ringing on the kitchen counter where I left it.
Teresa. Of course. Who else would it be?
“Hey, T. What’s up?”
“What’s up? I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“This is Manhattan. We don’t have ditches,” I said, smiling.
“Fell in an open manhole cover. Pushed onto the tracks. Shanked and left for dead in Central Park.”
“Little dark there,” I said, letting out a huff of a laugh.
“My point is. I’m here. You’re not. What’s up with that?”
“I slept in.”
“You… you slept in?” she asked, astonishment clear in her voice. Then, “Oooh, you slept in . Well, good for you. A man shouldn’t spend all his nights alone. It’s not natural. So, who is it?”
“T…”
“Oh,” she said, tone suddenly more clipped. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
“Dunno who you’re talking about.” I poured myself another cup of coffee, wondering why Teresa would be so cold about Saff all of a sudden.
“Sure you don’t. Look, I’m gonna say my piece then move on. That girl’s trouble. I think you need to be careful. And that’s all I’m gonna say about it.” I could practically see her throwing up her hands as she said it.
“Heard,” I said, hearing footsteps upstairs.
Saff was up.
And, knowing her, ready to run.
Hell, bolt. Especially after finding out she’d spent the whole night.
“I’ll be at the office in an hour or so.”
I hung up just as Saff was running down the stairs. Fully dressed, save for the bra that was still half-hidden under the couch.
She didn’t even try to go find it as she rushed through the living area, pulling to an abrupt stop when she spotted me.
“Oh.” She looked disappointed, likely thinking I’d already headed to the office, so she could sneak out without a confrontation. “Morning,” she mumbled, dropping her mug on the island as far away from me as possible, then rushing toward the elevator without another word.
Maybe I was supposed to call her back, to follow her out.
I got the feeling, though, that Saff was a bit like a feral dog. Not unlovable, just skittish, distrustful. And someone had made her that way.
So maybe the best way to handle her was to keep offering affection. Until, slowly, little by little, she came to seek it out herself.
She rushed inside the elevator, keeping her head down. But she couldn’t leave without one more look. As the doors slid closed, her gaze lifted, found mine, held.
Then she was gone.
I stood there for a long moment, my mind reeling.
Then I reached for my phone, shooting off a text to Teresa.
Change of plans. Not coming in today.
By the time I finished washing out our mugs, my phone was dinging.
Just remember: condoms are cheaper than child support and antibiotics.
I laughed before making my way back upstairs, changing out of my suit and into a pair of sports pants and a t-shirt, wanting to be able to blend in.
Because I was heading my ass out to Brooklyn again.
Not to check on the club.
To see what, if anything, I could find out about Saff.
I might not know a whole lot about her—yet—but I did know where she liked to get her coffee. And that she had a pretty heavy reading habit.
There had to be people in the local coffee shop or bookstore that could tell me something about her.
With that in mind, I called Calvin, then caught up on some work emails on the ride toward Saff’s neck of the woods.
“If you could,” I said as I climbed out of the car an hour later, “don’t park anywhere near the club.”
“Got it,” Calvin said. I had to admit, his dedication to never asking questions was pretty damn refreshing. Especially when I was about to do something that was a little bit shady.
Borderline stalk not only my business partner, but the woman I was sleeping with.
Desperate times, and all that.
My gaze scanned the street, looking for any signs of blue hair before making my way toward the coffee shop.
It was the kind of place with cement floors and black accents. A little cold. Sterile. Nothing that invited you to stick around.
I guess I could see it being Saff’s favorite place to grab a cup on the go.
I made my way up to the line, ordered a coffee, then asked the barista if she knew a blue-haired woman named Saff.
Before she could even answer, though, some guy behind me in line spoke up. “My advice? Stay away. Stay far the fuck away, man.”
Turning, I saw a short guy who was a bit round in the middle, sporting a nasty black eye and busted lip.
“Why’s that?”
“Because this,” he said, gesturing toward his face, “is her handiwork.”
“What’d you do?” I asked.
“What? So I gotta be in the wrong? She’s a psycho, man. Straight-up crazy bitch—“
“Hey,” I snapped, surprised with the surge of anger within me. “Don’t.”
“What? She got you by the dick or something? Good fucking luck. She’ll probably get in one of those moods of hers and chop it off in your sleep. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn ya,” he said, throwing up his hands and getting out of line, heading toward the bathroom.
The barista, clearly not wanting to get in the middle, offered me a tight-lipped smile and handed me my coffee.
I moved back outside, figuring that I at least got something.
Saff, apparently, had a temper. And not just a normal temper. A violent one.
Granted, I didn’t know the specifics. Maybe he grabbed her ass or something. In which case, he had it coming.
My mind whirled back to those cuts on her wrists, the way she clumsily lied about them.
Had that been from messing up that guy’s face?
And if so, why not tell me that some guy got handsy?
Sighing, I made my way down the street, finding the first bookstore I came across and heading inside.
I was met with the scent of ink and paper and just a hint of some sort of lemon cleaner.
“Can I help you find anything?” a pretty middle-aged woman in a flowing rainbow skirt and knotted white tee asked, giving me a smile that made the apples of her cheeks push up her red glasses.
“Hey,” I greeted her, giving her a warm smile. “I’m not sure. My friend told me to check this place out.”
“Really? Anyone I might know?”
“Maybe? Saff? Blue hair, tiny, full of attitude?”
“Oh, my God. Yes. Saff. I adore her. She and her friends practically keep me in business. Especially Lore. And now that they all formed that book club of theirs.”
Lore.
That was another unusual name to lock away and try to look into. Even in a city full of seven million people, there couldn't have been a lot of women named Lore.
“Yeah, she’s got books all over,” I said, thinking of her office. Full of books she’d likely brought in from home. “What might she like to read? Might give me something to talk about with her the next time I see her.”
“Oh, she’s all over the place. One day, she might come in asking for alien smut. The next time, she wants gory female serial killer horror. Usually with some level of smut in those too, though, now that I think about it. And, hey, who doesn’t like a little spice in their reading?”
“Can’t argue with that.” Even if I’d never read a book with spice in it. I couldn’t imagine it detracting from the story.
“If you want to read something before she has, so you can you know, read it with her… I just got a couple in that I know she is going to gobble up the next time she stops by.”
“I’ll take one of each of ‘em,” I said, following her around as she prattled on about the stories themselves.
“You should have a good week to get at least one read before she comes back in. She’s usually here once a week. Sometimes more if she’s working less.”
“She does seem busy a lot. I can’t for the life of me remember what she told me she did for a living, though,” I said, following the shopkeeper to the counter where she started to ring up the books.
“Oh,” she said, looking suddenly tense. “Well, she… she is very well-respected around here,” she said. “And maybe a little feared.”
“Feared?” I asked. “She’s so tiny.”
“You know how chihuahuas are the angriest little dogs, even when facing up a dog ten times their size? I think Saff is a little like that. She needs to be ten times as mean and strong to get the same level of respect.”
Respect.
Fear.
Those were… interesting descriptors.
They definitely weren’t the ones you would typically use to describe a businesswoman of any sort.
“She’s a good soul,” she went on. “Don’t let neighborhood gossip convince you otherwise. It’s not easy around here for a woman. A girl’s gotta do whatever it takes.”
I felt like I was missing something really vital. But no one seemed to want to give me direct answers.
“Anyway. Here you go,” she said, passing me back my card and the canvas tote I’d grabbed while following her around. “Can I just say, it is the absolute dream to find a man who will read with you. Saff is a lucky woman. She deserves it,” she added.
“She’s pretty amazing,” I agreed. “Thanks for all your help.”
“Anytime,” she said.
I made my way back outside, feeling even more confused than a few moments before.
I was so lost in my own thoughts that I almost missed her.
But, sure enough, there she was a block away, back to me. There was no mistaking her. The petite frame. The body I now knew every inch of.
Memories flooded my mind, needing to be tamped back down so I didn’t get distracted.
The one thing that was very different about the Saff in front of me right then, though, was that her hair was fully blue. Like she’d washed whatever temporary dye she’d had on out completely.
I was about ready to try to discreetly follow her, see if I could figure out what she was up to around Brooklyn to get the reputation she seemed to have, when she suddenly bent down as a dog came up toward her, all wiggles.
And as she leaned down to pet it, the back of her shirt rode up, exposing something that had my spine straightening.
A gun in a holster on her waistband.
I ducked down the side street, needing more than ever not to be caught creeping around behind her.
Not because I thought she’d shoot me or anything like that.
I needed some time to get my thoughts together, to try to come up with any reasonable explanation for everything I’d heard and seen.
Sure, this was New York. And, yes, gun laws were understandably strict. But strict didn’t mean there weren’t people around carrying.
Hell, if I was her size, I’d want to be walking around with every weapon possible.
Respected.
Feared.
Psycho.
Crazy bitch.
Stay away. Stay far the fuck away.
I happened upon Calvin parked outside of a juice place, sipping on an extra-large shake as he rocked out to some song on the stereo that I wouldn’t even pretend to know.
“Oh, Mr. Vale,” Calvin said, halting as the door slammed when I slid into the back. “Sorry, I—”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Take me home,” I said, leaning back against the seat with a sigh. “No, turn it back on,” I said when he lowered the music.
“You sure?”
“Please.”
Maybe if it was loud enough, it could drown out the hurricane thoughts spinning in my mind.
No matter what, they always came back to that same warning.
Stay away. Stay far the fuck away.
But as I made my way back into my apartment, setting the books on the nightstand, and smelling her strawberry sweet cream scent all over my sheets, I was pretty sure it was going to be impossible to stay away from her.