Chapter 23
Elliot
Istare at the address Aria sent me and immediately start looking into it.
When Drake told me she was in Chicago, the information he sent over didn’t show an address for a mortgage, a lease, or even a damn hotel.
I figured she was either staying with friends and family or on a sublease, but according to my search, the place is a short-term rental.
Interesting.
Aria and I might be more similar than we thought.
I can’t remember the amount of short-term rentals I have lived in as an adult. It has to be in the thousands. It would have been nice for my investment portfolio to purchase them, but it wasn’t something I wanted.
Maybe Aria is the same way. Maybe to her, Chicago is supposed to be temporary, and she is afraid to commit to something like a lease, because then, she’ll have to leave Austin behind.
Just like I’ve never been able to say goodbye to Chicago.
If we aren’t similar people, we definitely have similar ways of thinking.
The way I want to take a deep dive into her mind is probably one of the unhealthiest things I’ve ever experienced. Given our agreement, I shouldn’t want that, but I do—and I plan on getting it.
It may not be tonight, it may not be in the next month, but it will happen. With time, Aria will open up to me, and I will have a better understanding of who she is. If I can’t make her mine in the way I so desperately want her to be, then hopefully, I can have this.
I check the time and decide that I’ve been parked in front of the building with her rental long enough, fifteen minutes of the twenty I told her, and it’s time to head inside.
Grabbing the bags of food I picked up on my way here, I make my way up.
The place is nice enough, and I get why Aria might have picked it, but she could be in a better place. As I knock on the door, I make a mental note to find her one. I’ll even pay for it.
Aria opens the door, and as soon as I see her, all thoughts of moving her somewhere else go out the door. The second my eyes meet hers, a sensation I’ve never felt before takes over my body. I’ve never felt it, but I’ve heard about it.
My dad told me about it once. I was eight.
We were in the kitchen, and I had asked him how it felt the first time he met my mom.
The question came after I overheard some kids at school talk about how many girlfriends and boyfriends they were all going to have when they got older.
One stated they would only have one, and they would know it was them because it would feel like it does in the movies.
I wondered if it felt that way for my parents.
He told me the story of how they met, how it was raining and he had fallen and just laid there on the pavement. She ended up lying next to him. He said the first time he really saw her, it was like he wasn’t able to breathe, but the second he laid eyes on her, it was as if his lungs worked again.
For some reason, that has always stayed with me.
My parents didn’t have a good relationship, at least from what I was able to remember, so I’ve always liked having that small story with me. It was my way of knowing there was one point when they did love each other.
That moment my dad talked about, I’m feeling it now. It should terrify me, but I want to run towards it and feel it every day.
I’m approaching dangerous territory, I just know it.
“Wow,” Aria lets out as she opens the door wider for me. “I guess you really mean it when you say you will be somewhere in twenty minutes.”
“Unfortunately, working in the corporate world has made me punctual,” I say, walking past her into the small house.
The urge to fucking kiss her is strong, but I haul myself back in. I can’t remember the last time I wanted to kiss someone so badly.
That’s a lie.
I do remember. It was in Las Vegas three years ago, and it was Aria I wanted to kiss.
“You went to the grocery store?” Aria asks when she closes the door behind me and sees the bags in my hands.
I lift them up. “I did.”
Mostly because I needed something to do after landing back in Chicago. I knew I was going to contact her as soon as I got back, but I had time to kill, so I went to the grocery store, got food we could make for dinner, and waited a bit after she was off to send her a message.
My actions are what some people would classify as abnormal, but I don’t give two shits.
“Snacks?” she asks, leading me to her kitchen just a few steps from the door.
“Yes, and I figured we could make dinner. I haven’t eaten since lunch, and I thought you might be hungry after your shift.”
A smile crosses her face, I think unknowingly, before it’s replaced with a look full of questions. “You know how to cook?”
I snort as I take everything out of the bags. “Why wouldn’t I?”
She shrugs as she surveys what I brought.
“You might have forgotten, but I basically lived at your place for over a week. The only times I saw you in the kitchen were when you were reheating something Henry or your chef made, grabbing a drink, or eating the mango I cut up. I didn’t really see you cook. ”
That’s not entirely wrong. I didn’t make a single thing while she was there, but that was only because I knew Henry or someone else already had a menu prepared for us.
I place my hands on the counter and give her all my attention. “These last few days were a special occasion. Someone had to cook for all those mouths. I don’t tend to relay on chefs or Henry, not unless I need to.”
Aria nods, but she doesn’t say anything. She just continues to look down at the food in front of her.
I watch her for a few seconds before I break the silence. “Is everything okay?”
If she doesn’t want me here, I will leave. I will fucking hate it, but if that’s something she wants, I will do it.
As soon as I ask the question, her head pops up, like she is offended I asked. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
“You looked a little lost is all.”
She gives me a tight smile. “Sorry. You just take me by surprise sometimes.”
“In a good or bad way?”
Her smile grows to a sexy smirk. “Definitely in a good way.”
Our eyes meet, and for a bit, we hold each other’s gaze, the tension between us building. My hands itch to touch her, to make her combust like I did in the elevator a few days ago. I want to close the distance between us and mark every single inch of her.
I could very much do that—our agreement is just about sex—but I want to have dinner with her, hear about her day, learn more about her, even if all that sounds crazy.
“Want to help me make you dinner?” I wave a hand over to the food not on the counter.
She gives me an excited nod. “What are we making?”
“How do you feel about some creamy lemon pasta with chicken?”
“It’s the perfect way to a girl’s heart. Let’s do it.”
And we do. For two people who haven’t spent a whole lot of time together, we move around the kitchen as if this were something we do every single day.
I cut the chicken, and she has the pan ready for it to be fried.
She boils the water, and I add the pasta when it’s ready.
When it comes to making the sauce for the pasta, I stir and she tastes until it’s the perfect amount of cream, lemon, and spice.
It’s fucking perfect and not something I’ve done with anyone.
Like Aria, I really don’t do relationships.
I think my longest one was a year, and it only lasted that long because she was a model and her PR company thought it would be a good look for her to be with a billionaire.
Her publicist was a friend, and since I was traveling a lot, I didn’t have to commit to being seen with her every day, so I agreed.
That was years ago, and even then, we never did something like this.
It feels nice, domesticated almost.
“Oh my God,” Aria groans when we’re at the table, finally eating. “Is this Henry’s recipe? Because if it is, you should tell him I’m stealing it.”
I chuckle at her reaction. “The old man couldn’t come up with something so refined as this pasta. It’s my recipe—or at least it’s a recipe I found online and have been making it for years.”
Aria gives me a teasing smile. “Did you find this recipe on Pinterest?
I have no idea why my cheeks heat up. “Maybe.”
“That’s absolutely adorable.”
I just shake my head at her, a smile never leaving my face as I go back to eat.
It’s a few bites later when I speak again.
“Your place is…nice,” I say, knowing right away that ‘nice’ is not the right word.
It is nice, but that’s it. There’s no character to it, no signs someone as vibrant as Aria lives here. The place has no life and doesn’t suit her.
“I think the word you wanted to use is bare,” she says around a mouthful of pasta.
I cringe a little. “Yeah, bare is one way to describe it.”
Aria shrugs. “It’s a short-term rental, so I never fully moved. Most of my stuff is in storage. Which is where it’s all going to stay, unfortunately, since I have to find a new place by next week. So if you know a place looking for a tenant, my options are open.”
Why do the words ‘move in with me’ want to escape my mouth?
“I may know of a few places. I’ll make some calls and see about getting you in somewhere.” And just like that, my plan to get her out of this place is set into motion without a whole lot of effort.
“That would be greatly appreciated.” She takes one last bite of her food before giving me a dazzling smile. “And I greatly appreciate you feeding me tonight.”
The last words have a different inflection than the ones before them, and it has me adjusting myself in my seat.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I say, but my voice sounds strained.
From what I can tell, she notices, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she smirks as she clears our plates and walks them into the kitchen.
The few seconds she’s gone, I try to calm myself as much as I can, chugging down the remainder of my water. I don’t know why I’m freaking out. We are both adults, and everything we do will be consensual, but it still feels like I’m about to get on my first rollercoaster.