CHAPTER FIVE
JORDAN
Seven is taking off his shirt, thick fingers undoing each button on his expensive, black button-up. It falls away, revealing every last inch of those bulky muscles beneath. I run my hands over his chest, relishing every groove and dip in his defined abs. He watches me with the most heated gaze I’ve ever seen as my hand trails lower. I can already see the outline of his cock in his pants as my hand nears. I’m dying to hear him say something. Anything.
“Talk to me, baby,” I whisper into his ear.
He opens his mouth. My entire body prickles at what he’ll tell me next.
“NNNR. NNNR. NNR. NNR.”
My eyes popped open and I gasped, completely disoriented for what felt like a full minute.
And then the pieces drifted back together. My alarm blared. I had a pillow stuffed between my legs, which I’d been humping in my sleep. I was not about to fuck Seven. I was alone in my bed.
Wonderful.
I groped for my phone, made contact, and silenced it. I flung myself onto my back and sighed.
Ten a.m. and my off day. Since I hit my money goal last week, I planned to haul my ass to the spa. I sat up and reviewed my phone quickly. There was a slew of texts, but a couple stood out:
SEVEN: Need that schedule.
SEVEN: Now would be good.
AXEL: Hey little sis. You wanna grab lunch with me today? On me. Your pick.
I groaned, unsure where to focus first. My entire body tensed thinking about what I’d say to Axel, so I started with Seven.
JORDAN: Off day. Might head to a spa later since I fucking earned it at my high-risk, completely unsafe job.
SEVEN: What spa, what time?
JORDAN: I don’t know yet. I’m seeing where the day takes me.
I went to the bathroom to pee and wash my face. Once I was clean and slightly less bleary-eyed, I checked my phone again.
SEVEN: Need details.
JORDAN: I’m wearing panties and a tank top. I haven’t had breakfast yet. I just brushed my teeth.
SEVEN: Not that kind of details.
JORDAN: I weigh 125 lbs and I love avocado.
SEVEN: Jesus Christ.
JORDAN: If you’re the security guy, aren’t you supposed to just naturally intuit my next move? I thought you were linked in telepathically by now. If you’re not able to tell me where I’m heading next, I don’t want your services.
SEVEN: Quit being a brat. I’m heading over.
JORDAN: I’m not putting pants on.
SEVEN: Whatever you’re wearing is probably more than you had on last night. I’m sure I’ll survive.
I narrowed my eyes, a weird heat circling in my belly. I desperately wanted to follow this thread further. But he was irrelevant, since he would be gone soon. I didn’t have time for him, or any of my brothers, at this stage of my life.
Which reminded me…Axel’s text.
I set the phone down as I prepared my standard avocado toast and coffee. I had no idea what to say to my brother except no. Though part of me wanted tosay yes, especially after what Legs revealed in the car.
What would Kaylee think if she knew that you opened up to them and let them into your life?
I scowled as I finished off the spicy chipotle drizzle then took a big, crunchy bite. Avocado toast could cure a lot. But it couldn’t cure the painful void in my chest where the Haynes family used to be.
Axel and Damian had been born Haynes, just like me and Kaylee. But they’d chosen the Fairchilds—their foster parents and foster brother Trace—as their true family and left me and Kaylee in the dust. They moved to New York City for college, even though they could have stayed back for us. And when Kaylee died from a drug overdose, my family had gone poof.
Evaporated. Like it never existed.
So, no, I did not want to get a casual lunch with my brother. He’d abandoned me.
I picked up my phone. Maybe the contemplative morning had been my sign from the beyond.
JORDAN: I can’t today. Really busy.
AXEL: Soon, then?
JORDAN: Probably not.
AXEL: We’re dying to catch up with you. Don’t forget about us, okay little sis?
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Don’t call me little sis. Dying to catch up? Kaylee actually died—did you even fucking care? All things I wouldn’t say. Because not saying them was safer. Keeping them buried—along with my former self—was the only way forward. I didn’t want to wade any deeper into this emotional territory than I’d already gone.
My hard-won stability depended on having these people out of my life. Continuing the status quo.
I did not need Axel, Damian, or Seven.
I didn’t need anyone.
A knock on my front door startled me out of my thoughts. It had to be Seven. I peeked through the peephole—Seven confirmed—before pulling it open and tipping my head toward the interior.
“I’m shocked you didn’t just let yourself in this time.”
He stepped in, his gaze coasting down the length of my body. It felt like I was being sized up as opposed to appreciated. But when his gaze landed on my pink panties, I detected a twinge of something else. Seven was hulking, dressed to kill like always, and the scent of his cologne almost melted me on the spot. A smirk crested his lips.
“Have to keep it fresh, or else you’ll know what to expect.”
“Actually disappointed you didn’t try scaling the exterior wall and breaking through the glass of my living room window.” I pushed the door shut behind him.
“There’s always next time.”
I bit back a laugh. “Well, make yourself comfortable. I have no idea how I’m going to spend my luxurious day off yet, and I refuse to be hurried by a man who doesn’t pay my bills, buy me dinner, or expense my clothes.” I flashed him a toothy grin.
He sank into the couch, looking completely unfazed. “That’s fine. Take your time. Your indecision makes my last day easier.”
Oh. He thought it was his last day, huh? Except it is—which is how you want it. Remember? I fought the urge to correct him somehow, and I got the sensation that he knew I was struggling with my bratty tendencies. The satisfied smile blossoming on his perfect lips said a lot.
“Well,” I went on, not wanting to make anything easy for him, “I kind of wanted to visit endless strings of floral shops and touch all sorts of trinkets in Chinatown that I’ll never buy.”
He shrugged. “Whatever.”
His lack of emotion bothered me so much sometimes. He was so cut-and-dried. So down to business. It made me want to scream and pick at him until I broke through to something more interesting underneath.
I needed to refocus on something else. Otherwise, I was liable to get lost in that caramel gaze forever. I turned on my phone, eager for anything to distract me.
And I found a text from my boss at the strip club.
IRENE: Jordannn my sweet Sapphire, any chance you could come in last minute to cover for Opal tonight? She’s sick!!
I groaned as I read it, sinking into an armchair near the front window. There went my luxurious spa day.
“This isn’t about the trinkets in Chinatown plan, is it?” Seven asked.
I sighed exaggeratedly and let my head drop back on the chair. “I guess they’re cancelled now. My boss wants me to cover a shift at the club tonight.”
“Can you say no?”
“I could. But”—I licked my lips as I started typing out my response—“I won’t.”
“Why?”
“Money.” I sent my text to Irene asking what time she’d need me. “Love it, need it, can’t live without it. I live alone in Chinatown, remember? This shit ain’t cheap.”
“And it’s not safe, either.”
I stared at him, unamused. “Where have I heard that before?”
“You’ll be hearing it plenty more times.” A brow lifted. “Assuming you even look at the report.”
“You’ve been working so hard on it, it would be rude not to glance at it.”
His gaze moved toward the front windows, and I swore I caught a glimmer of a grin on his lips.
IRENE: 7-12. Doable?
JORDAN: You know you can count on me.
I sighed and set my phone down. My ankles were already not looking forward to the fourth night in a row on the stilts I called heels. I loved the job, but even I needed a break sometimes.
“You know you have two older brothers who are very eager to give you literally anything you could want or need,” Seven said, as though hearing my internal dilemma.
I frowned at him. He had no fucking idea. “You can save the Fairchild sympathy. I have to work, and that’s that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get dressed so we can get some rice noodles before we go in.”
For an afternoon on a work night, I touched an extensive number of trinkets in Chinatown and took Seven to my favorite rice noodle joint, Yun Shin. Not because I cared about what he thought or wanted to share it with him to see what he said about my favorite restaurant. I just wanted the rice noodles. And a nice bouquet of dahlias, which were my favorite flower—especially in any shade of red.
And maybe I secretly wanted him to be sad that it was his last day trailing someone as fascinating and sparkling as me.
But the man was a brick wall. Anytime I caught a glimmer of personality, he followed it with iciness and focus on the job. When I asked him what he thought about the rice noodles, he’d just grunted and said “good” like a Neanderthal. Zero appreciation for broth. Outrageous.
I made him tag along to a few PokéStops on the way back from lunch. I caught him watching my phone curiously a time or two, but he didn’t ask a damn question, and I didn’t offer a damn thing. I did catch a Dragonite, though, which I shouted excitedly about. The brick wall didn’t even ask what the big deal was.
Back at my apartment, I went through my usual pre-work routine while Seven lingered in the living room. Having him so close put me on edge in a strange way. I wanted to know what he really thought, and it burned me up that I wouldn’t get it out of him before he was gone forever.
Once my hair was done and the base of my work makeup applied, I packed my bag and dressed in my street clothes. Seven stood as soon as he saw me approach. The way he filled my living room and seemed to tower above me made my pussy clench.
I couldn’t lie—having a protector was sort of nice.
Especially one as sexy as Seven.
I refused his offer to take the private car to work, so we hoofed it through Chinatown and over to SoHo like the rest of Manhattan did on the daily. I knew this route like the back of my hand. I could probably get there sleepwalking if I had to. Once we got to the club, we parted without much fanfare, but my nerves buzzed waiting to see if I’d catch any glimpse of a reaction to my show like I had yesterday.
Seven had been transfixed, though I was sure he’d never admit it. And seeing the desire flash in his eyes felt like a small victory, even though the truth was you could truly conquer any man under purple lights with a slap-able ass and bare skin.
I tried to make the shift feel like a regular workday, but from the start, even my regulars were commenting on how nice it was to see me on a Monday. It felt odd being here—or maybe the feeling came from knowing that in a few hours, Seven would be gone forever.
Tonight’s shift had me doing one main show again. I chose a black thong and fake-sapphire-encrusted bikini as my costume for the night. I pulled out all the stops, making sure to shake my ass cheeks extra hard in Seven’s direction. The whole club roared and hooted as I wrapped up. And as planned, I got booked up immediately. Per the moneymaking plan.
Seven stayed along the back wall, surveying the room methodically as I pranced off to give some lap dances and make the rounds between champagne rooms and VIP lounges. I spotted someone familiar in the crowd toward the bar—a mess of red hair and wide shoulders. I squinted across the bar before heading into the champagne room.
Dustin.
What the fuck was he doing here?
There was no time to think about it. I was a busy lady, and I had lots of dances to give. Dustin didn’t appear on my schedule, but seeing him here set off my alarms. In theory, there was no way he’d know to find me here.
But he saw the shoes….
I worked through the conundrum in the back of my mind as I entertained, popped bottles, and teased my tits for cash. Had Dustin been methodically checking out every strip club since the morning he spotted my shoes? Seemed unlikely. But there was no way he’d know how to find me. Unless he’d gotten lucky or followed me…
I tried to keep track of him, but I couldn’t. By the time I came up for air after two back-to-back VIP lounges, Dustin was gone—or maybe booked with another dancer. I vowed to let it go.
Sometimes, real life people showed up in the club. That shit happened.
So why couldn’t I shake it?
The end of my shift came quickly. I’d barely had time to keep tabs on Seven, either. Once I was changed into street clothes again, we stepped outside together, inhaling the humid, smog-laced night air.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Born ready. Car’s on stand-by,” he told me.
I tutted, shaking my head. “I knew you’d offer. But no. Besides, we need more time. It’s our last day. I want to get to know you before you leave forever.”
He kept pace alongside me as I started down the sidewalk, his jaw flexing. “There’s nothing worth knowing.”
“I beg to differ!” I laughed haughtily. “You know far too much about me. Besides, that’s usually my line: there’s nothing worth knowing. So I know it’s a load of bullshit.”
He said nothing as we scuffed our way down the mostly empty sidewalk.
“So, let’s begin. Do you only wear button downs, or is this just your preference?”
He didn’t look amused, which satisfied me.
“So I take it you’ve never heard of sweatpants,” I pushed.
He sniffed, keeping his gaze on the sidewalk in front of us.
“There’s some gray ones you should try out, especially if you go the Root Bear route. Women tip extra for shit like that. Just thought you might like that little piece of unsolicited advice.”
No response.
“You’re not giving me a lot of info here. Oh, here’s another question I just thought of. Have you ever tried smiling?”
He bit his bottom lip, as if squashing a laugh. Gotcha. I poked him in the ribs.
“That was a good one, I know. Not quite as good as the Dad joke you led with, but we can’t all be as skilled as you.”
“Skill comes with time. With age. I wouldn’t expect you to know.”
I blinked back my surprise. It was gems like these I loved to unearth within him. “Are you calling me young and na?ve?”
“You said it, not me.”
“Let me guess what your name stands for—the decade of the year you were born.”
This time, a laugh huffed out of him. I could tell he’d been fighting it.
“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone that you’re halfway to the coffin already. Your gym routine will probably give you a few extra years of life.”
“Jesus, I’m in my thirties, Jordan, it’s not like I’m not on my deathbed.”
Score. I’d finagled one piece of information out of him. I should have been happy with that. But I wanted more.
“You’ll probably last a little longer than average, actually, given the fact that you might be part robot.”
He smirked. “What gives it away?”
“You just seem like the type of guy who wouldn’t be able to identify all the bicycles in a random set of images.”
“I’m very skilled at identifying bicycles,” he replied, utterly unaffected by my wit.
“That’s exactly what a robot would say.”
We continued like this for the duration of our walk to the subway station, and then as we took the train back to Chinatown. For split seconds, we felt like friends. In other moments, I felt like this was our first date. But he always made sure to bring it back to client/hired hulk status.
When we wound our way from the subway station up onto the ground level of my neighborhood, re-entering the September night air, I slowed.
“What are you doing?” He looked over his shoulder at me, a few paces ahead.
“Can you…not follow me all the way back to my building?”
He cocked his head like he didn’t understand my request. “It’s two blocks away.”
“I know. I just…don’t like goodbyes.” I shrugged. “It would be easier if you disappeared into the night.”
That infuriating smirk curled at his lips. “Is that what you’re used to?”
I laughed. “Brutal. And yeah. Maybe I am.”
“It’s after midnight and you’re alone.” He shook his head. “I’ll come with you.”
“Do you know how many times I’ve made this walk on my own?” I gestured at the open pavement behind me. At this hour, the pedestrians were few and far between. But I’d never had issues. Not really. “Life doesn’t become more dangerous just because you show up and say it is. I’ve been hacking it on my own for a while now. Besides, I have pepper spray and eight-inch heels. You know I’ve got this.”
Seven didn’t agree with me. I could feel it radiating off him in thick waves. But he didn’t stop me either. I took an exploratory step backward, then another.
“It’s been real,” I said, wanting to add more but not know what the fuck I should say. How did you sign off forever from an employee you never hired, never asked for, never wanted? This was becoming a ridiculous chapter in my life, and I was ready for it to end.
I finally turned and headed toward my apartment, walking as quickly as I could. Was it possible I’d grown to enjoy Seven’s company? Maybe I was that starved for human connection. I’d convinced myself that my girl squad at the club and my coffee squad at the shop were enough. That I was experiencing the necessary closeness without actually being close at all to anyone.
It doesn’t matter. It’s done.
As my fingers hit the front door of my building, someone slunk out of the shadows and grabbed my wrist.
A mess of red hair; intense blue eyes. Panic hit like a sonic boom.
“Dustin,” I forced out, struggling to free my hand. He wouldn’t let go, just tightened his grip. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Jordan. You have no idea how much we have to talk about.” His words came out disjointed. Everything about his energy sent me into flight mode. He brought me closer, grabbing my leather jacket with his other hand. “I watched you perform, and you were so good. You were an angel up there. I just need you to know how much this means to me. You being my friend. Being so nice to me. Being so sexy all the time.”
“Dustin, let go.”
“It’s time to get serious about what we have between us. We’re the same person. We have so much in common. You’re the most beautiful angel I’ve ever met and we need—”
“Dustin!” I threw my elbows, struggling to get out of his grip as he pulled me into him for a kiss. He reeked of alcohol and body odor. Eyes watering, I turned my head away just in time for his lips to graze my upper cheek.
“Let’s go upstairs.”
“Fuck no!”
His brows furrowed, like he didn’t compute. “Why would you say that to me?”
“I want to go home and go to sleep.”
“You’re being a fucking bitch.” His voice came out hard. He let go of my jacket long enough to pull the door open and tug me toward the threshold. “We’re gonna go work this out right now.”
I struggled against him as he tried to drag me inside. I knew, in the back of my mind, that I needed to scream. To cry for help. But I was paralyzed with indecision about how to get out of the situation. My pepper spray was inside my bag. My heels—my main weapon—inside my bag. And he had such an iron grip on me, I had no hope of retrieving either of them.
My fight or flight mode had abandoned me. I was just stuck in struggle and silence.
Seven was right.