Chapter 16
Elena
“ W hy are you not interested in any of these cute boys I’m pointing out? Is my cute radar off tonight? Are they all duds?” Justine asks me, worry creasing her brow. She looks gorgeous in a vivid purple dress with heavy gold earrings and her long, dark ponytail draped over her shoulder.
We’re standing at a high table just off the dance floor in the crowded bar, and I’m keeping a hold of my drink, just like Cullan told me to. It’s my third cocktail, and I’ve only had one soda, so I’m feeling a bit tipsy. I must make sure to have a water or something next.
I laugh and shake my head. “They’re all really cute, I swear, but I’m happy talking to you. ”
This is our third bar tonight and I can safely say that the Flockton Street scene is not for me. I’m having a good time, but the pumping music, crowding bodies, and staring eyes are not what I’m used to, and I won’t be in a hurry to come back.
“Has Leon broken your heart?” Justine asks.
I shake my head. “I’ve been hurt and angry, but it’s passing. I wasn’t in love with him.”
“So who’s on your mind?” Justine presses, taking a sip of her drink. “From the looks of you, there has to be someone.”
I touch the silver pendant around my neck.
Justine’s gaze sharpens as she looks at the pendant. “That’s new. Birthday present?”
I nod.
“Who from?”
“Um, my boss.”
Her mouth falls open. “Mr. Grant gave you jewelry?”
I glance down at my feet in the exquisite black pumps. “And these shoes.”
“Jewelry and fuck-me shoes? Holy crap, Elena. Are you sleeping with him?”
“What are fuck-me shoes? And no, of course I’m not.”
“Fuck-me shoes are exactly what they sound like. You put them on, and you’re signaling that you want to be fucked.” Her eyes narrow. “Why are you turning red.”
“There’s been some…tension.”
“Be specific.”
I have to be careful. We’re veering close to “Cullan killed four men” territory, and I absolutely can’t tell anyone about that. That’s too big a secret, even for a best friend. “The night Mr. Grant showed up in Fenton and saved me from being attacked, we kind of kissed in his car afterward.”
A scandalized smile spreads over Justine’s lips. “While you were dating his son? Oh, that man is bad . I kind of love that for you.”
“You’re supposed to warn me about the dangers of older men, not cheer him on.”
“Has he been creepy? Gross? Showing you his dick over breakfast?”
I choke on a sip of my cocktail. I wonder if it’s strong. I can’t taste the alcohol, but maybe you can’t after you’ve already had two drinks. “He’s been a gentleman, I promise. I’m the one who’s been kind of slutty.”
“How?”
I cast a surreptitious look at my friend. “He… He told me to go to my room, and I went to his room.”
Justine screeches so loudly that a few heads turn nearby, but the music is so loud it mostly drowns her out.
I cover my face and laugh. I’m embarrassed, but for once it feels good to be confessing my behavior.
I don’t feel accusing fingers pointing at me while Justine and I drink cocktails in a bar called Pixie.
Justine seizes my arm. “Did you—”
I shake my head. “He undressed me and, um.” I waggle my fingers at her and glance significantly down my body.
“He fingered you?” she shrieks at the top of her voice .
“Justine, oh my God. Not so loud.”
My friend’s eyes are so wide, and she’s grinning like a maniac. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. Oh my God. I’m so happy. I’m so proud. Was it good?”
I bite my lip as I remember Cullan’s finger moving in and out of me. Holding tight to his shoulders while I climaxed. “So good. I saw stars. You don’t think I’m crazy for doing that with a man twice my age?”
“I think you’re a lucky bitch who got an orgasm from a man with strong hands who knows what the hell he’s doing. In a hundred years’ time, who’s going to care how old you are and how old he is? Get your bliss however you can. When are you going to sleep with him?”
“Justine, I can’t. I have to be professional from now on.”
“No,” Justine moans, her expression crestfallen.
“I have never in my life had a job that makes me happy. I have never been this happy. I can’t jeopardize that.”
“But he—”
“If my aunts find out what I’m doing, they’ll never tell me who my mother is,” I remind her.
Justine deflates with a gusty sigh and then nods. “All right. I can understand that. You’ve had it rough with those bitches.”
“Justine!”
“What? I’m right. They’re extorting you for money, and you know it.”
My best friend has hinted that she thinks my aunts are taking advantage of me, but she’s never outright said it before. I stare at my fingers clutched around my cocktail glass. “What choice do I have but to do as they ask?”
She squeezes my hand. “Sorry, let’s not talk about it right now. It’s your birthday, and we should be dancing. Let’s down these and get out there.”
Justine raises her glass to her lips, drains it, and then looks expectantly at me.
“Okay, but this is my last drink,” I insist, and swallow down my cocktail.
As we head onto the dance floor, a girl waves to Justine, and she waves back but doesn’t head in her direction. “Malika is a friend of mine,” she explains. “We’ll join her later. I want to dance with the birthday girl.”
I don’t recognize any of the music, but it’s fun and upbeat and easy to move to.
My dancing has no finesse, but with so many bodies close to mine and three drinks in my system, I don’t feel self-conscious.
I dance with as much abandon as I would if I were with Rosie in Cullan’s living room.
Soon I’m lost in the music, my hands in the air and my hair swaying back and forth.
Justine is singing along at the top of her lungs to a song I don’t know, when suddenly her eyes widen and she stares at someone over my shoulder. “Wow. He’s huge.”
“Who?”
“The daddy making a beeline for us.” She grins wickedly. “I love older guys, and you’ve already got one panting over you. Dibs.”
I feel a tingling down my spine, a premonition about who the huge older guy approaching us might be. My heart leaps at the thought that I might see Cullan tonight. But this is a noisy, sweaty bar. Cullan wouldn’t come here.
I glance over my shoulder, and intense hazel eyes fasten on mine. He’s wearing a black button-down shirt that shows a hint of the tattoos on his chest. “Oh, my God. That’s my boss.”
“ That’s Mr. Grant? He is eating you alive with those eyes. I guess my dibs isn’t going to count for shit.” Justine laughs and pats my hand. “Maybe birthday wishes do come true. I’ll be over there with Malika and her friends.”
It takes me a moment to realize that Justine has peeled away from me and disappeared among the bodies, and I’m standing on the dance floor all alone.
Cullan moves toward me through the crowd, standing head and shoulders over just about everyone in here.
He reaches me, and I gaze up at him. Even wearing stilettos, he towers over me.
Colored lights flash over his face. As the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile, I no longer care what he’s doing here and why. I only care that he came.
His eyes travel down my body. “You wore the shoes.”
The three drinks have made me feel reckless, and I turn slowly on the spot, glancing provocatively at him over my shoulder. “What do you think?”
Cullan lifts his eyes to mine. “Beautiful. I’ve always been entranced by that little flash of red.”
“Always? Do you often buy high heels for people?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen these shoes on a woman before. I saw them once in a shop window, and I’ve never gotten them out of my head. Thank you for making my night. I’ll be thinking about you wearing these shoes all week.”
There’s a flare of something dark and sexual in his eyes.
I wonder if Cullan’s got a high heel fetish.
Or a foot fetish. The first time we met, he slid to his knees and tied my shoelace.
I’ve always had this vague idea that foot fetishes are kind of submissive, but Cullan never stops giving off the vibes that he’s the one in charge.
“Why are you here?” I ask, feeling pleased but puzzled.
He holds out his hand. “I want a dance with the birthday girl.”
Now that he’s standing in front of me not bothering to mask his interest, everything I said to Justine about only being professional with my boss flies right out the window. Surely there’s nothing too unprofessional about one dance.
I smile up at him and reach for his hand, knowing I’m lying to myself, and not caring one little bit.
Cullan moves closer, and his big hands move to my waist. I gasp a little as his touch sears my flesh. There’s nothing professional about the way this man makes me feel.
As he gathers me into his arms, heat floods my body. My palms rest lightly on his chest. We’re slow dancing to club music, but I swear, as I look into his eyes, the only beat I hear is his heart.
“Who’s watching Rosie?” I ask.
“She’s with my friends Tyrant and Vivienne Mercer. We had dinner tonight at their home in Henson.”
“Tyrant. That’s a funny name.” We’re standing close. My body is pressed flush against his hard one as he speaks into my ear.
“Isn’t it? You met him briefly at the diner the night I met you.”
There was another man sitting with Cullan in the booth that night. He was dressed in black and he had hard blue eyes and tattoos on his knuckles and throat. The name suits him. “Why did you leave Rosie with them?”
Cullan looks at me from beneath his lashes. “Vivienne thought I might want to check on you. Flockton Street has a reputation.”
Now that I’ve been in a few of the bars, I understand what that reputation is. These are pickup joints. Is that why Cullan looked annoyed when I told him I was coming here? He’s jealous?