12. Ivy
12
IVY
I wasn’t doing this.
I wasn’t actually considering this, was I?
So why was I checking myself out in front of the mirror in the bedroom section of my studio apartment? It was also the living room, considering I couldn’t fit more than a bed and a single armchair in the entire room. I ran my hands down the front of my sleeveless blouse, which I bought with my first new paycheck.
Most of my increased salary had to go to Mom, but there was enough for me to buy a few little things for myself. It was cute, the flowing blue fabric skimming my hips. Paired with a pair of jeans and sandals, I could have been on my way out for drinks with friends instead of whatever the hell this was.
A booty call. Call it what it is.
And it wasn’t like I hadn’t chosen my prettiest bra and panties for the occasion after taking an ‘everything’ shower, where I shaved, scrubbed, and exfoliated every inch of my body. My carefully blown-out hair hung in loose waves that would probably fall as soon as I stepped into the humid night.
What was I thinking? I had so much riding on this job. A framed photo of Mom and me at my graduation hung close to where the mirror was mounted on the wall. I stared at it while beating myself up for being so easy. If anybody found out I was sleeping with Lucian, it would be my head on the chopping block. Men could get away with things like that, especially men in his position. Word might get around, and I could kiss my professional credibility goodbye.
Did that stop me from double-checking my purse and dropping my phone inside before checking for my keys? I made sure the tiny stove was off, turning out the lights in an apartment that was smaller than Lucian’s office. It wasn’t much, but it was mine, and I was actively jeopardizing it by leaving and heading outside to meet my Uber driver.
I didn’t feel like dealing with the subway into Manhattan.
Upon exiting the building, a man in a dark suit called out to me from the curb. “Excuse me, Miss?”
I would normally have ignored some random creep, but the fact that he stood beside a sleek, black car that looked way too fancy for this neighborhood made me pause. “Yes?”
“Miss Ivy St. James?”
This was too weird. “That’s right.”
“Mr. Diamond sent me to pick you up.” He stepped aside after opening the back door. “To ensure your safety.”
My apprehension melted along with some of my nerves. The man was slick. I had to give him that much. Doing everything he could to get me to his apartment, even though I hadn’t confirmed I’d accept his invitation. I swallowed down the fluttering in my stomach at the gesture. “Thank you,” I murmured, offering a nervous smile and sliding into the back seat. It smelled brand new, and the leather was like butter.
Here goes nothing. I canceled my Uber and settled back with my heart fluttering.
The whole way across the bridge, I tapped my fingers against my bouncing knee. Along with my apprehension was a healthy dose of excitement. Anticipation. His touch—just thinking about it made my breath catch. We would have the whole night together, nobody interrupting us.
I was still caught between being disappointed with myself and counting the seconds until I got up to Lucian’s apartment by the time I climbed out of the car and up to the revolving door leading into a very big, fancy-looking lobby.
What would it be like, crossing the marble floor every day, taking an elevator up to my apartment instead of walking up three flights through a narrow stairwell that always stank like mouse piss? To feel safe? Hell, when was the last time I wasn’t afraid of something? Someone breaking in or following me inside and forcing their way through the door, stealing what little I had. All kinds of terrible things went through my head while I tried to fall asleep at night with a wailing baby on the other side of the thin wall separating my apartment from the one next to it.
When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, there was nothing but quiet. It was almost eerie. Lucian’s door sat directly in front of me, and my heart lodged itself in my throat before I forced myself into the hallway and blew out a deep breath. Running a shaking hand over my hair, I checked in with myself again. Was this worth it? Nothing was stopping me from turning around.
My heart seized when the lock clicked, and, to my surprise, the door swung open to reveal a smirking Lucian. So much for making a quick escape. “How did you know I was out here?” I asked.
“My spidey sense was tingling, telling me there’s a gorgeous woman outside my door.” He pointed up to the corner of the door frame, where a small camera was mounted. “Turns out, even an expensive security camera can’t come close to displaying your beauty. Come in so I can get a better look, Poison.”
He was still dressed in his work clothes, though he had taken off his tie and popped the top two buttons of his striped shirt. The expanse of tanned chest left exposed set off a familiar fluttering in my belly as I stepped inside the apartment.
“Wow.” The only thing that could have stolen my attention from his chest was the apartment he led me into. This was how he lived?
It was a palace. Sleek, modern, but not cold or sterile. There was a warmth here, dark woods, leather furniture, and a fireplace that would have made for a romantic night in colder weather. I could imagine— no, don’t even go there. I tried to focus on something else like the high ceilings and enormous windows overlooking the Upper East Side. “It’s like you’re on top of the world up here,” I marveled. Was I whispering? I sort of felt like I should.
“It feels that way sometimes.” He crossed the living room, heading for a bar set up in one corner. I noticed the photos on the walls, particularly one of him and Connor. The woman with them had to be his mother, a beautiful brunette with a mega smile which I now remembered from Rose’s wedding. She had absolutely torn up the dance floor.
He noticed me admiring the photo and chuckled. “The three of us. Can I get you something to drink?”
I would need one. Something to ease my nerves. “Vodka tonic?” I suggested.
“A twist of lime?” he offered, and I nodded.
There were other photos and mementos. A lot of the same people in the pictures. “Your family?” I asked as he fixed my drink.
“Some of them. We’re all pretty close, me and my cousins.”
“That’s right. Rose married your cousin, Colton. I forgot you were related.”
“Correct.” He brought me my drink, carrying a glass of whiskey in his other hand. “What about you? Is it just you and your mom?”
Somehow, I was surprised he remembered anything about me as he handed me the glass, but it was wiped away when his fingers grazed mine and set off a chain reaction of goose bumps, tightening nipples, and a shiver down my spine.
Taking a few sips of my drink, I nodded and tried to pretend I wasn’t drinking the smoothest vodka that had ever crossed my lips. “Just us. She was an only child, and my dad… I don’t know him. I could have half a dozen half-siblings and fifteen cousins, but I would never know.”
“You could find out.”
“I have everything I need.” Taking another sip, I turned away from the photos to admire the rest of the grandeur around me. The floors were actual wood, not some cheap laminate. From here, I could see into the kitchen with its quartz countertops and stainless steel appliances. “A six-burner gas range?“ I whispered, thinking about the tiny four-burner electric antique in my apartment. There were times I was afraid to use it.
“Do you like to cook?” he asked, seemingly genuinely interested in me.
“I love it. But I don’t get much of a chance.” Not to mention, most of the time, ramen noodles and cereal comprised my diet. Some months, almost everything had to go to the nursing home.
“Why do you look sad?” He touched the hand to my bare shoulder, and it was warm. Comforting.
“Do I?” I forced a laugh as I turned to him. “I don’t mean to. This is all a little overwhelming.”
He fell back a step, frowning. Probably upset I didn’t walk in, drop my jeans, and beg him to put his dick in me. “Come, sit down,” he offered, gesturing toward the black leather sofa. “I was going to put on some music. It might relax you.”
“Sure, whatever you want.” It was his place, after all, and he was only trying to set the mood. This was all wrong. I was fucking it up.
Soon, soft jazz filled the air. “Nice choice,” I decided, smiling in appreciation, looking around to find the speakers discreetly mounted in the corners of the large room. The acoustics were incredible.
“I’m not just some uncultured swine,” he pointed out with an easy grin that was so sexy. There was nothing hotter than a man comfortable in his skin, in his surroundings. A body like his didn’t hurt, either.
“So you like jazz, you have tons of family photos around the apartment, which tells me family means a lot to you. You shoot a mean game of pool. You’re full of surprises, Lucian Diamond.”
He sat at the other end of the sofa, angling his body until he faced me. My heart skipped a beat when our eyes met, and his twinkled when he smiled. “What’s on your mind, Poison?”
Now, I felt stupid for revealing what was going on in my messed-up brain. “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, really. Is there something wrong with your mom? You can tell me. I would like to know more about her,” he added with a soft, inviting smile. “I mean, you already know my dad personally. It only seems fair.”
What was this all about? Suddenly, he was thoughtful, almost caring. Not that I didn’t think he had it in him somewhere, but for someone who tended to bulldoze his way through uncomfortable situations, this came as a surprise. “She’s as good as she can be. It’s more like… I feel sort of lost here in this huge apartment. It’s stupid.”
“It isn’t stupid. But you’re here because I want you to be, and you want to be. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“No, of course not. I just feel a little… uncomfortable, I guess. What could you possibly want with me when you have all of this?”
“Back up.” He set his glass down on the coffee table, turning his full attention toward me. “Is it a bad thing that I live in a penthouse?”
“You know it isn’t. But I live in a freaking shoebox compared to this. You probably have a hundred women you could be with right this minute who are more used to all of this. I’m afraid to get comfortable, like I’ll ruin something.”
“What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?” He laughed, but it was a disbelieving sound. “Since when are you so unsure of yourself?”
Since I walked in here, and the blatant difference between us smacked me in the face hard enough to sting. I couldn’t bring myself to explain that. Neither of us had the time to delve through my insecurities. “There’s more to me than meets the eye, I guess.” It was lame and awkward, but it was the safest response.
“I doubt you could ruin anything, and if you did—” His mouth snapped shut, but it was too late. I knew exactly what he was going to say.
“If I did, you could just replace whatever it is,” I finished for him.
“Jesus, Poison, relax. Enjoy your drink, listen to some music, unwind with me.” There was hunger in his gaze when he looked me up and down. “You look beautiful tonight.”
“Thank you.” Now my new top felt cheap. I was too deep in my own head. I was ruining everything, all because I couldn’t get over his obvious wealth compared to my complete poverty.
“You smell nice too, but then, you always do.” He reached out and ran the backs of his fingers down my arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. “Come closer, I won’t bite. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
“Me too,” I admitted. If only we hadn’t met here. We could’ve gotten a hotel room and would have been tangled up in each other this very minute. It was different when we met in neutral territory. All I could think about now was how much leverage he had over me and how miserable life would be if anybody found out about us.
“I’m sorry.” I bolted back the rest of my drink and scrambled to my feet. “I shouldn’t have come here. You didn’t do anything wrong,” I assured him as I grabbed my purse.
He stood, moving toward me. “Wait. You’re not going anywhere.”
“I am. I have to.” I hurried across the room and headed for the front door that marked my salvation. He was so wealthy he could have or do anything he wanted. It didn’t matter to him whether I kept my job or not, just like he didn’t have to work a day in his life. We were not the same.
“Why? Just tell me why, dammit,” he demanded, his deep voice firmer than usual.
“Because I have much more at stake than you do, that’s why. Don’t pretend otherwise. Thank you for the drink, and I’ll see you in the office.”
“Stay.” Just as I reached for the door, he took my shoulders in his big hands, pressing his fingers into my muscles. I closed my eyes, fighting the desire to melt against him and forget everything.
“I really can’t, and I shouldn’t.” When I opened the door, his hands fell away. He didn’t try to stop me this time as I left with tears in my eyes and a burning ache in my chest.
It was the right thing to do.
It was the only choice I could make.
What a shame it hurt so much.