Chapter Twenty
Lily
? “Favorite Part” - Sabrina Claudio ?
I spin around in my chair, waiting for the green screen and random codes to stop lining my computer. My spinning stops when my phone starts to ring, and I look at the caller ID before quickly answering.
“Hi, Ma.”
The line is silent for a moment. “Baby, can you hear me?” my mom asks.
“Yes, Mom, can you hear me?” I lean my head back over my chair and continue to make myself nauseated by orbiting in a circle.
“How’s work? How is college going? You’re on speaker, Papa is sitting next to me.”
I can hear my brothers and sisters in the background, running around while my mother tries to speak over them. Sometimes I miss a loud house. Our house has been extra quiet since Celeste stays at Rowan’s more often and the silence creeps me out. I’m starting to hear every noise in the wall.
“Everything is great.” I mask a happy voice, when in reality, I hate it.
I hate the cubicles. I hate the growing, eerie silence every day, only hearing other people fingering their computers while I try to work on numbers, day after day.
But for some sickening reason, I can’t find it in myself to leave, to disappoint Mateo, to disappoint my mother and father.
They are finally seeing their firstborn live out a dream. Their dream.
“That’s fantastic, Lily.”
“And you’re staying away from those boys, correct?” my father interrupts.
My mother responds in our native language, cursing him out by telling him I am old enough. I also catch her whispering that I need to find a husband, but I am going to pretend I didn’t hear it.
My computer screen finally stops acting like this is the Matrix and returns to the fashion website.
Summer is the only time I have when I can really focus on fashion.
I set my phone down, putting it on speaker while my mother continues talking to my father and my little sister screams at my brother about a toy.
This is what my family check-ups tend to consist of: a constant screaming phone conversation between my family in Athens and me, in New York, listening.
Over the yelling of my mother and siblings, I hear my doorbell ring. I tell my parents I have to go and that I love them, hanging up before they can give me a response.
I quickly answer the door to find a delivery man with a large rectangular box in hand.
“Miss Ballis?”
“Yes?”
He passes me his phone to sign off my name and throws the box into my hands. I close the door, running to the living room, and throw the black velvet box on the couch.
There are no labels, and no stickers stating who sent this to me.
I remove the top box to see a black one-shoulder draped maxi dress. My mouth drops to the floor. A designer dress—one that I have had my eyes on for weeks, that is tabbed about twelve times in my search history. I pick up the card that fell onto the floor when I removed the top.
For tonight.
No name again. First it was the shoes, now the dress. I run to my room, picking up my phone. As soon as I unlock it, I get a text from Mateo.
Mateo: Picking you up at six. Be ready.
I can feel my cheeks start to burn as I stand here, smiling at my phone.
I do some final touches to my my makeup—bold red lips and natural shimmer eyeshadow—and make sure all the pins in my hair are tightly secured into an updo. I add simple jewelry, making sure nothing is bold enough to take away from the dress.
On cue—six on the dot—my doorbell rings. I put on my black heels with a touch of red and grab my purse. I open the door to find Mateo standing outside in a black and white tux. His hair is combed and gelled back and he’s wearing his glasses that I find so adorable.
He holds out his hand to walk me to the car.
“Thank you, by the way,” I say while rubbing my hands along the dress.
He holds the door open while peering at me. “You don’t have to thank me yet. I haven’t told you where we are going.” He laughs while closing the door. I follow his movement as he rounds the car to the driver’s side.
“Yeah, but the dress is beautiful. You didn’t have to do that,” I say when he enters the car.
He turns to me, lips curving only slightly as he looks at me from head to toe. “Do what? The dress is nice though, you look good.”
I trap the air in my lungs, pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth.
I give him a small smile and nod before glancing to face the front window.
If Mateo didn’t send the dress, then that only means one other person...
The fabric feels too tight along my skin, and I suddenly want to rip the dress off.
The drive to our location is silent and awkward. Afterwards, Mateo trails around the car to open my door and hands his keys to VIP. His hand lingers against my waist as he drags me inside.
“An opera?” I take my seat next to him, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he stands when someone tries to pass us to get to their seats.
“Mr. Wheeler, nice to see you,” he says, shaking the hand of some older man in a suit.
This is a business outing. Not a date. How naive of me to think this was about us. The old man turns to look at me, undressing me with his eyes as his wife stands next to him, while he continues to shake Mateo’s hand. Mateo notices, looking at me and back to the older man.
“Mr. Wheeler, this is Lily, my—”
My head swivels to Mateo, my heart dropping out my ass. His what? We’ve never talked about this. Hell, he still hasn’t taken me on an official date.
“This is Lily,” he finishes.
I stand, grabbing Mister Old-fucking-pervert’s hand and shaking it. His smile widens when he uses both of his hands to grab mine. “Very nice to meet you, Lily.”
I take my seat again, wiping my now slimy hands along my dress.
Mateo sits, turning to face Mr. Wheeler, just yapping away with him before the show starts.
I tap Mateo on the shoulder and tell him I’m going to grab a drink since I thankfully noticed a bar by the main entrance before we walked in here.
I wait for the bartender to finish his rounds, leaning over to look at all my options. I jump in place when I feel two hands wrap around my waist, pinning me to my spot. A spicy scent invades the air around me.
“I love seeing your body wrapped in my gifts,” a voice blows into my ear.
I flip around to see Jace standing right behind me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I quietly squeal, looking around to see the crowd surrounding us.
My eyes dart to a bathroom sign, grabbing his hand, I pull him toward it.
I try to scan the crowd to see if I can spot Mateo standing anywhere, afraid of getting caught.
When we enter the bathroom, I throw him in and lock the door behind us.
Jace’s eyes are the color of a stormy night.
He’s wearing a suit with no tie, the top two buttons of his dress shirt undone, and his hair is draped across his forehead— messy, disheveled, and sexy.
He’s shaved off his stubble, showing off his crisp jaw.
He’s smiling at me like he caught my hand in the cookie jar, and it makes my heart pound against my sternum while his eyes linger up and down my body.
“You were the shoes too?” I ask, staying close enough to the door just in case I need to make a quick exit.
His tongue darts out, licking his bottom lip. He takes a step closer to me when I take a step back, putting my hand on the door handle.
“Is there an issue?” He steps even closer. My hand is still on the handle, but I am unable to turn and leave.
“Yes, there is an issue. I don’t need these things. I didn’t need your money to pay off school and I don’t need your gifts.” My breath becomes thicker as if the air is being sucked away from my lungs the closer he gets.
He bends down slightly so that his forehead rests on top of my head. I can hear him take a deep inhale before he says, “I know you don’t need me, álainn, but I need you.”
I close my eyes for a second before I snap out of it and push him away. “Jace I— I can’t.” I close my eyes again, shaking my head to force myself not to look at him.
His outfit hugs his body, showing every indent, curve, and bulge of his muscles.
His scent.
His accent.
His everything.
“Why are you doing this?” I breathe out.
I didn’t notice him step away from me, his jaw clenching before he says, “I told you to stay away from him. You’re not listening.
” He takes off his suit jacket, throwing it into the sink to the right of him, and rolls up his dress shirt to his forearms, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets.
The action is so flawless and effortless.
“So, for me not listening, you send me gifts?”
He takes one large step, pushing me back against the door. His hand glides up my thigh, bunching my dress up. His bitter cold hand rubs against my skin and my eyes roll back in memory of the one night not so long ago—his hands all over me, his mouth touching my skin...
“No. You not listening will result in consequences. The gifts”—his bottom lip rubs against my cheek to my ear— “are for my benefit.” One hand grips my waist, and the other hand finds the nape of my neck, pulling my body away from the door and closer to his.
I can feel my body mold and melt into his as his nose rubs against my neck.
A moan escapes my mouth, my words in a chokehold.
Jace’s touch is electrifying, hitting every nerve.
I feel like a moth dragged to a flame. My body craves the fire through his fingers.
Through his soft lips against my skin. I’m in a trance I can’t escape from.
A cloud I cannot fall from. A dream I cannot wake from.
His finger finds my center, moving my panties to the side as he slowly swipes between my slit. “So hot and wet for me.” His teeth dig into the sensitive part between my neck and shoulder.
“Jace I— I can’t.” I can taste the lie on my tongue. I can’t find the will to make him stop. My body stands in a firepit and welcomes the heat like it’s second nature.
“Don’t worry.” He releases my body and takes a step back, my shoulders falling as a wheeze leaves my mouth. “My time will soon come,” he says, walking around me and leaving the bathroom.
I stand there, trying to catch my breath.
I turn around and lock the bathroom door again.
I run to the mirror to see if I look out of sorts.
My face is as red as a cherry and sweat drips down my forehead.
The longer I look, the more I don't recognize the person staring back at me.
The woman in the mirror is a void. A replacement for what I have become.
The person staring back at me is not me.
I sit silently the whole show. Mateo doesn't question why I was gone for so long. He doesn’t question me for not having that drink I said I was going to go get and we make no conversation on the way home.
What am I doing? How did I end up here?
I have never been with a man longer than a few weeks, always ending it quickly for my own benefit, but for some reason, Mateo has kept me trapped.
With his calm tone, never pushy about wanting sex, and with me being so busy with my new job and school—he has just been here.
By my side like a ghost, and I’ve allowed it.
I’ve indulged in it. And at the same time, I’ve never questioned it.
We pull up to my house. He turns the car off and continues to stare out the front window.
“What are we?” I ask. It’s the question that haunts every man's dreams, but when he introduced me to his friend, he didn’t even know how to label us. He says nothing, which says everything. “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t have anything at the firm so—”
“Is this because of Jace?” he asks, still looking out the window.
“I’m sorry?”
He throws his head back, laughing, his voice no longer sweet and sultry.
“Is this about fucking Jace? I know you sneak around with him. I see the way you two look at each other. You can’t stop being a whore for longer than a couple of weeks?
Have to throw your pussy around at every guy who gives you the slightest attention?
I liked you, Lily. I really did. But fuck, you’re a piece of work.
I even saw the way you looked at my potential business partner tonight. ”
He is not worth it. I open the car door and slam it so hard the window raddles. He is not worth arguing with. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know my life. I walk toward my house when a hand grabs me, whipping me around.
“I’m sorry, Lily. I didn’t mean it.”
I rip my arm out of his hold. “You didn’t mean it?
Like you didn’t mean it when you were embarrassing me in front of my friends? Trying to hold me back from drinking?” A laugh rises from my throat. “And I’m the piece of work?”
“I’m sorry, Lily! I’ve just been so stressed about work and—”
I put my hand in his face. “No. Save it. I don’t want excuses. I see the shiny red flag waving above your head, and I have given you more chances than you deserve.” I gather my keys from my purse and walk up the steps, unlocking my door and slamming it in Mateo’s face.