Chapter 7
Seven
Tristan
She'd run off. I still couldn't believe it.
One second, she'd been curled up against me, every single inch of our bodies pressed together, contentment swirling in my chest as she practically purred like a cat.
And the next, she was gone.
Had she been pissed for some reason, or had that been her plan all along?
First thing I'd done when I'd woken up to an empty bed was check my wallet. Every last hundred had been there, all of my credit cards as well, and I'd kept an eye on the accounts just in case she'd copied or taken pictures of the numbers.
But nothing. She hadn't taken a single thing from me. Except my pride. And maybe my sanity.
I thought what we'd shared that night had been unique, a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing, something I'd never even come close to experiencing with anyone else.
And she'd just left in the middle of the night? No whispered goodbye, no playful note on the hotel's stationary, no lipstick stain on my skin to prove she'd even been there. Just nothing.
Except for her panties.
In the week since our night together, those scraps of lace had become my goddamn security blanket. I'd carried them in my pocket every single day, clenching them in my fist often, whenever I needed a lifeline.
Yeah, it was fucking weird and a little bit creepy. But no one else knew.
No one knew that I kept reaching for them absentmindedly, running the delicate fabric between my fingers, feeling like an absolute lunatic.
I couldn't help it. I had to do something in remembrance of that night, to make sure it was real.
There was a knock on my office door, drawing me out of my thoughts of her of course. She was all I could think about lately.
I sat up straighter in my chair, quickly swiping my hand across my face like that could erase the daze I'd been stuck in. Sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling windows spilled across my desk, reflecting off the stack of reports I hadn't even touched today.
Tomás popped his head in. "Is now a good time?"
I sighed, not really feeling it. I wasn't in the mood for people, for responsibilities, for reality. To be honest, it was never a good time anymore. At least for this past week.
"What's up?" I asked.
Striding in, he shot me his confident smile. "Not you apparently."
"What do you mean?"
"What do I mean? You've been acting like a lovesick, moody teenager ever since Saturday night."
Unfortunately, he was correct.
In a moment of weakness, I'd confided in my best friend, my old college buddy that had seen me at my absolute worst back in the day, vomiting in bushes and trying to hide under a chair when an acid trip had gone wrong.
He gave me a long look as he sat down across from me and made himself comfortable. His chair creaked as he leaned back, propping his feet up on the edge of my desk, right next to the untouched coffee someone had left there hours ago. It had gone cold. Just like my focus.
"And I think it's high time you did something about it," he added.
"Like what?"
Shrugging, he looked past me and out the windows at the gray, gloomy skyline. "I don't know. Be creative. And in the meantime, we've fallen behind on the Southside Flats project, which you spearheaded, and your father is going to start riding our asses about it any day now."
I ran a hand through my hair, leaning back in my chair. Shit.
Tomás was right. I'd been letting my obsession get in the way of business for five long days, and it needed to stop.
I didn't give a shit about my dad though.
I wouldn't do it for him. He'd been riding my ass for years now, so big fucking deal if he did it some more.
But I did have a lot of other people counting on me, people that I actually cared about.
I exhaled, forcing my mind back to work. Southside Flats. Our latest acquisition.
"Right," I began. "Where are we on the buyouts?"
"We're getting there. A lot of holdouts. Apparently, people are pretty attached to the old neighborhood."
Of course they were. No one ever wanted to leave until you made staying unbearable.
"Get Andrew and his team on it. We need to apply some real pressure here, the usual, make their lives inconvenient. I know the board wants to get the plan pushed through by next quarter."
"Got it."
Tomás had become my right-hand man, someone I trusted with just about anything I could throw at him.
"What else?" he asked.
"Let's set up a meeting for early next week so we can all get on the same page, make sure we're closing any remaining gaps, see if we need to grease any palms to secure the city's approval, all the usual bull."
He nodded. "Okay. Will do."
I tapped my fingers against the edge of my desk, staring at the blinking notification on my laptop screen—another email from my father, undoubtedly filled with thinly veiled disappointment and yet another list of demands.
Great. Just fucking great.
My fingers went to the panties in my pocket, taking me away from my shitty reality.
I wondered what she was doing right now at this exact moment. Was she sketching a design? Pinning fabric to a dress form? Laughing over coffee with someone else? Was she really a fashion designer?
That dress had been phenomenal. And if she had actually designed it, she was very talented indeed.
Tomás cleared his throat. "You good, man?"
Shit. I'd been distracted yet again. "Yeah," I lied. "Just need to get my head back in the game. That's all."
He eyed me for a beat. "She must have been something special for her to get in your head like this."
I glanced at him, shooting him a glare. "You have no idea."
His laughter filled the air, although I had no clue what he found so funny. "You think I have no idea? Dude, I have a pregnant wife at home. I absolutely know what it's like to be consumed by a woman."
Consumed. The word made my jaw tighten.
I wasn't consumed. Just slightly obsessed. There was a difference.
Maybe.
Damn. This sucked.
He stood up suddenly. "All right, I'm heading out. I'll let you know when I have the meeting set up. And you know what you should do?"
"What?"
"Find the girl."
He made it sound so easy.
Turning to face the window, I spaced out for the hundredth time today, going over every second of that night that I could remember, every word she'd said, her gestures, her mannerisms.
The way she almost shyly tucked her hair behind her ear. The way her lips parted when she listened to me talk. The way she looked at me, so full of curiosity and innocence at the same time.
There was something vaguely familiar about her, something I couldn't for the life of me place.
But that wasn't surprising. Growing up in the city, with the madness that was my parents' lives, I'd met an astonishing number of people, been to a ridiculous amount of parties, galas, and benefits.
So fucking many, I avoided them like the plague now.
The only reason I'd even gone to the winter ball was to spy on a city official, hoping for some dirt, like I'd told her. But then I'd spotted her. And suddenly, nothing else had mattered.
Everything I'd told her was the goddamn truth.
She'd tripped by the entrance and looked so cute doing it, that I felt this odd yet compelling urge to know her. And that had only been the beginning.
Once I'd actually met her? I'd been completely fucking done for.
Not only was she beautiful with curves to die for, but she had a sweetness about her that was rare in the world today. Genuine. Unaffected. Like she hadn't been chewed up and spit out by life yet. Like she still believed in the goodness of people.
Besides that, she'd been damn good in bed.
I scoffed to myself like an idiot. Who was I kidding? I didn't just want to fuck her again. I wanted to know her.
Never in my life had I met someone whose kindness was so palpable, as if her heart was wrapped in light. It was like an aura surrounding her that touched anyone in her vicinity.
All night, I'd wondered why she'd been alone, why other people hadn't been just as obsessed with her, with her vibe, trying to get some of that feeling for themselves. Clearly, the room had been full of dumbasses who couldn't see the angel walking amongst us.
Was I acting a tad insane? Maybe.
But sometimes in life, you clicked with someone. Occasionally it was an instant dislike. I couldn't for sure say why. And sometimes you just immediately vibed with them. Again, no fucking clue how that worked.
With my mystery woman, it had been like that. Just instant chemistry.
And then the whole seduction thing. Goddamn.
Just thinking about it made me hard again. It was getting fucking ridiculous.
I'd been walking around with a semi ever since, rubbing it out in the shower every morning and again at night, images of her in my head, her gorgeous face—what I could see of it anyway—her hair, her dress, her sweet pussy, and the most beautiful tits I'd ever seen in my life. I couldn't get enough of them.
And when she'd flicked her nipples with her own tongue...
Roughly, I readjusted my junk. I was so fucking sick of this. Did I need to jerk off in my bathroom? Fucking hell.
More than anything, I just wanted the chance to know her. Never in my life had a woman left me hanging like this. All I had to do was flash a smile, throw a little charm their way, and that was it.
A few had even stalked me, especially once they learned my last name and knew how much I was worth.
But her? Not even a peep.
That was it. Tomás' parting words rang in my head—find the girl—and I knew I had to do something about it.
Picking up my phone, I dialed the first person I could think of to help me. Ethan Locke. We'd known each other a long time, and he'd done some things for me in the past.
If anyone could track her down, he could.