Chapter 18 #2
Estella Grant had picked a venue with a giant sun umbrella because she knew Ellie didn’t like the sun.
Estella Grant ordered drinks for her with a confidence bordering on arrogance, that was aggravating and — fine — a tiny bit hot.
Estella Grant had all but licked her lips when she’d said daddy issues, like she was enjoying Ellie’s sore spots and that made her feel slightly lightheaded.
Estella Grant was exactly what she’d always been — dangerous — and Ellie was at risk of letting herself be seduced into forgetting it.
She felt the burn of the tequila on her tongue chased by the jalapeno and remembered the real fire she was chasing: getting inside Estella’s head.
Slipping on that dangerous charisma like a fur fucking coat; wrapping her tongue around Estella’s words.
Estella thought she was taking Ellie in, but Ellie knew she was the one doing the taking.
She found herself smiling against the salty rim of her glass.
Estella, somehow, must have felt the energy shift in the atmosphere, so finely attuned as she was to the dynamics around her — Ellie was learning this about her — and she sat up, making Ellie look at her.
Ellie, resolutely met her eyes and thought what she always thought, when she got vertigo: Do not look down.
“I’m hot,” Estella said. Ellie didn’t blink but she didn’t argue either. “Let’s take this into the pool.”
The pool was for the use of any of the bar’s patron, wrapping three-quarters of the way around the outside of the rooftop, but there seemed to be an invisible forcefield protecting the corner that now belonged purely to Estella Grant and her guest. Ellie watched as a well-built guy with slightly too much alcohol in his bloodstream drifted within three metres of them and two of his friends grabbed him back immediately, redirecting him as fast as though they’d seen a crocodile in the water instead of a beautiful blonde.
Ellie wondered what it must be like to have that much power.
“What’s it like to have that much power?” she asked, nodding her head towards the empty water around them. “You don’t even have to say anything and they leave you alone.”
Estella looked faintly surprised. She’d gathered her locks up on top of her head before she’d slid into the water, and removed her sunglasses, to Ellie’s trepidation and relief.
It was very helpful getting to see her eyes; it made it harder for Estella to lie to her.
But oh shit, it was a lot being pinned in those bright blues, while Ellie’s eyes were equally naked and vulnerable. Do not look down.
“It’s not me,” Estella said, as though that were remotely true. She reconsidered and cocked her head. “I mean, it is, I’m sure. But mostly it’s him.”
Ellie looked up to where Estella was gazing and saw the man she’d assumed was bar security.
He was older than your average security guard she realised now, but huge, his face casually menacing.
Especially with the angry bruising that bloomed across the bridge of his nose and the matching colours on his knuckles.
He was pure, distilled, walking violence.
She realised, now, that she’d seen him before.
At the beach bar. And, she startled, at the cafe near the yoga studio.
Oh fuck, at Arthur’s soccer game? God. She’d been so fucking stupid.
“Cute,” Ellie managed. “Little rough around the edges, but I can see it.”
Estella smirked at her. She leaned back against the edge of the pool, propping her elbows on the ledge on either side, her eyes fixed on Ellie’s as her body gleamed with drops of water sliding down her golden skin. “Your type?” she asked.
“Not so much,” Ellie said faintly and Estella laughed. Don’t look down. Estella looked so knowing that Ellie reached, fast, for the one thing she thought could derail her. “Was Mike your type?”
Estella’s smile faded at the direct hit and Ellie felt disgusted at herself. Using Estella’s dead husband as a shield? But wait, what if Estella did have him killed? Could she use it against her then? Morality felt shaky all of a sudden.
“I thought so at eighteen,” Estella said soberly.
“You’ve seen photos of him, I’m sure.” Ellie nodded.
She’d have made a terrible investigator, truth be told.
Her only impression was of a large, muscular…
man. It wasn’t enough to hold her attention long enough to even really know what colour hair he’d had.
Or if he’d had hair at all. She tried to look suitably impressed but Estella, luckily, was looking down.
At the water. At Ellie? Ellie was also wearing a bikini, though hers was black.
She knew she looked good. Maybe not Estella Grant level good, but— “He was good looking,” Estella said and Ellie blinked.
“Good enough in bed, but then again, he was only my second ever boyfriend, so what the hell did I know? Who were you sleeping with at eighteen?”
Ellie got whiplash. She remembered Alice James, at nineteen, all nervous giddy exploration and declarations of undying love between them on their third ever date.
She did not want to share that with Estella Grant for about nine separate reasons.
Happily, though, there was, at eighteen, “Trent Silverman,” she revealed.
“Taught me how to surf. Long blond hair,” she recalled.
If she’d closed her eyes when she kissed him, she could just about pretend.
“Abs that all the girls were after.” All the girls but her.
“And the sex?” Estella was closer to her than she remembered.
She’d drifted toward Ellie in the pool, like they were engaging in girl-talk.
Which, maybe they were. A strand of her hair had escaped and was trailing in the water.
Ellie’s gaze fixed on it. So many versions of gold.
She wanted to wrap her finger around it.
She raised her eyes to Estella who somehow appeared deeply interested in Ellie’s sexual history.
She makes you feel like the only person in the room that matters.
That’s a vibe. Use that. She flicked her lashes up to meet Estella’s eyes.
She leaned in a little closer, the cool scent of chlorine and coconut sunscreen on the air between them.
Estella watched her mouth as Ellie let her tongue dart out to wet her lips.
“Average,” Ellie said. “Very, very average.”
Estella’s smile spread, and a surprisingly conspiratorial giggle escaped her mouth. “Ellie,” she murmured, like it was a secret. “They always are.”
Do not look down.