Chapter 5
After yesterday’s introduction, the last thing I wanted to do when I woke up was babysit Aden for the day.
Maybe my opinion on that has changed now that it involves watching him strip down over and over again in front of a three-sided floor-length mirror.
Damn. This is the best kind of torture.
“What do you think?” he asks while the shop owner flutters around him making unnecessary tweaks.
I’m pretty sure the other man just likes touching Aden because there’s only so much measuring that can be done. Besides, nothing could look bad on a body like that.
God, he looks stunning. Otherworldly.
“Gabi?” he asks, meeting my gaze in the mirror.
Deep blue eyes hold me captive as I force my brain back to the present.
“Mom will love it.”
He frowns, still staring at me. “What about you?”
I take a gulp of my iced coffee to suppress the unexpected flutter in my stomach.
“Um… yeah of course. It’s classic enough for any occasion, yet still has a hint of an edge that gives it some personality.”
“Truer words have never been spoken!” Leonard chirps, brushing even more imaginary lint from Aden’s shoulders.
Leonard is madly in love with Aden. Not surprising. I’m quickly learning that everyone is. I bite my lip to keep from laughing when Aden’s amused look finds me in the mirror again. Maybe he’s thinking the same thing.
“Perhaps we should measure one more time to be sure?” Leonard suggests.
By the glint in his eyes, he just wants Aden to strip down again.
It’s incredible how long it took the world-renowned tailor to unwind measuring tapes and wrap them around body parts, but I guess Aden Ward standing half-naked in such close quarters makes the process of clothing him rather inconvenient.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. You’re the best for a reason, right Leonard?” Aden says.
Agreed. I’m not sure how much longer my hormones can handle being stuck in a small fitting room with this man. I can’t even decide if I like him better naked or clothed. My body seems to have a preference, though, and that preference is tied to my bed.
“Which is why I always like to be sure,” Leonard says.
“We believe in you. When will we be able to pick this up?” I ask.
Leonard’s gaze is locked on Aden’s muscular back as he reluctantly helps him shrug out of the jacket. Time slows when Aden unbuttons the pants and lowers them in a casual striptease. His black boxer-briefs leave very little to the imagination as he steps out and reaches for his slacks.
Geez. This should be illegal.
“Leonard? Do you have an estimate for the tailoring?” I ask.
“Hmm?”
“The tailoring? When will it be finished?”
“Definitely…”
Now I’m just annoyed at his inability to focus. I get that Aden’s crisp white button-up is sliding off his shoulders in mouthwatering slow motion, but the universe can’t stop every time this man undresses. From what I’ve seen so far in our short acquaintance, that’s pretty damn often.
I tug his pale pink shirt from the hanger and hold it out to him. Aden returns a smile that gives me some sympathy for Leonard.
“We can have it for you tomorrow, Mr. Ward. Will you be needing anything else?”
“Just the pocket square and bowtie,” Aden says, motioning toward the accessories he just removed.
“You can put it on Mom’s tab,” I add.
Leonard makes some notes, and a few minutes later Aden and I are back in the car.
“Does that get annoying?” I ask.
“What?”
“Everyone ogling and fawning over you.”
The corner of his mouth lifts as he scans me with a sly look. “You would know.”
Heat spreads through me at the flirtatious remark. I know charming is his default setting, but still. He’s good.
“You hungry?” I ask, not sure what else to say. “Want to grab lunch before heading back?”
His slow smile tells me he knows I’m flustered. “Sure.”
I nod and knock on the privacy window separating the back of the car from the front. Kevin lowers it, and I tell him to take us to Hibiscus, my favorite lunch spot.
“Hibiscus, huh?” Aden says once we’re alone again.
“Yeah, it’s this cute place downtown that does?—”
“The best shrimp tacos.”
I gawk at him. “You’ve been there?”
“Many times. It’s one of my favorites as well.”
“Oh.”
He offers a sweet look before absently gazing out the window. His hand rests between us, and I can’t stop staring at the long fingers covered in thick silver rings—one has a skull, another a serpent. I remember him looking over the diamond cufflinks in the clothing shop.
He seems to love jewelry. Watches, necklaces, rings—beautiful objects of wealth.
Like Celeste Wells.
The reminder that he’s with my mother twists my stomach in knots, compelling my gaze back to the safety of my window.
Lunch is surprising.
The Hibiscus crowd is sparse thanks to a recent curfew imposed in other parts of the city, making many wealthier citizens reluctant to venture out at all. Which allows Aden and me to have our pick of tables.
We both order tacos but argue over everything from salsa verde versus mole, to pinot noir versus cabernet sauvignon, to the appropriate hour for a restaurant to stop serving brunch. I also learn Aden has a heart-stopping laugh when it’s genuine and is way more intelligent than anyone else I know that’s his age.
Once we pay the bill, we send our purchases home with the driver so we can walk the rest of the way.
The sky is typically a gray pall, but today it’s warm and sunny. It feels good to breathe fresh air as we stroll through the tree-lined paths in the Center Street Commons toward my high-rise in Emerald Point. I haven’t felt so content and free in a long time.
“This is beautiful,” Aden remarks, taking in the small park of trees at the edge of Slate City’s high-end shopping district. A few pigeons hop around the cobblestone path, and the small smile on his lips as he watches them grabs my attention.
“You’ve never been here?” I ask.
He shakes his head, and I find myself averting my gaze from the innocent wonder on his face. It’s overwhelming coming from him. How someone so world-worn and accustomed to navigating the ugly games of the elite could have missed this pocket of beauty hurts my heart.
Also, the last thing I need right now is to add “adorable” to the never-ending list of traits making this human puzzle so irresistible.
It’s become clear that the man beside me is as far from a vapid mannequin as a person can be. I suspect his depth runs deeper than he’ll ever let on. The thought stirs more butterflies in my stomach instead of quieting the ones already there.
Challenges are my kryptonite, and Aden is an unsolvable mystery.
Now, I’m on what could arguably be the best date of my life.
Except it’s not a date.
He’s my mother’s boyfriend. In no way, shape, or form could this casual day be anything close to a date. Still, all I want to do is go home and see if he tastes as delicious as he smells.
“You okay?” he asks.
“What? Yeah,” I say through a quick smile.
“You had a faraway look.”
“Sorry. I get lost in my head a lot.”
“Don’t be sorry. I do too.”
“I’ve noticed. What are you thinking about?”
He seems to force away his initial response. “If I should wear linen pants with a button-up tomorrow or a light polo with Carrera shorts,” he jokes instead.
“Well, I know you’re lying since you rarely wear anything.”
His beautiful laugh sends another flutter through me for what has to be the hundredth time today.
“Was that a complaint or a request?” he asks with a sexy glint.
I tap my chin in exaggerated thought. “Both?”
He shakes his head with a grin, making him beyond tempting. I tear my gaze away again before I do something stupid.
We’re in dangerous territory. I know it, and I think he does too, but neither of us seem willing to acknowledge the truth and return to where we belong.
With Mom. He belongs with Mom.
The reminder makes me shudder. I still don’t understand why he’d choose this life under her thumb. He could do anything. Be with anyone. Why this? Why here? It makes no sense.
You just don’t like that his choice means he can’t be yours.
I swallow the ache as the truth sets in.
None of this is real.
His hand hangs between us as we walk. I can’t stop picturing his fingers, beautifully formed like the rest of him.
We’ve been subtly shifting into strategic positions throughout the day, never obvious, but enough to suggest we’re hoping for contact. It’s been a fight for hours now, and suddenly, the temptation is just too much. I have to know if it’s intentional. If he’s feeling this same forbidden pull.
I drop my hand as well and allow our knuckles to brush. His gaze snaps to mine at the electric shock, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he adjusts to link his little finger with mine. My blood pounds at the strange shiver coursing through me. I’ve never felt anything like it.
I need more and graze his index finger with mine in an intentional caress that sends more fiery pulses over my skin. His chest moves in a quick inhale as if he’s feeling this intense connection as well. Everything in me wants to thread our fingers and pull his hand to my lips. To tell him the truth about how I feel. To beg him to give in for just a second of relief. And most of all, to leave my mother before she hurts him like I know she will.
You can’t. You fucking can’t.
I pull my hand away before I ruin the moment by taking this too far. He tucks his in his pocket.
“So…” I say, drawing his attention. In the light filtered through the trees, his kaleidoscope eyes are breathtaking.
Yeah, I’ll be avoiding those for the rest of the day.
“Was there more to that?” he asks after a long pause.
“More to what?”
“The ‘so.’”
Oh. Right. Conversation.
“Yeah, um… I guess… How long have you been doing… this?” I wince at the weird question, and the humor in his eyes grows serious.
“And by this you mean what, exactly?” He quirks a brow, and I squirm under his knowing look.
“Nothing. Never mind,” I mumble.
“How long have I been… walking? A long time.”
I return a sardonic look that draws a mischievous grin from him. “Hilarious.”
“You asked. What about you? How long have you been… walking?”
“Sorry. Just trying to make conversation with my new stepdad.”
His sweet laugh settles in my chest. Damn, it’s gonna hurt when Mom comes back.
I keep my gaze fixed on the path to seem casual. “So, are you, like, with my mother or is this just a sex thing?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. A lot, actually.”
I sense his attention and peek over to find a slight frown on his face. “What’s this about, Gabi? What do you really want to ask me?”
“Nothing. Just making conversation.”
“About sex with your mom? If so, you’d be the first child ever to want to have that conversation.”
I cringe. Touché.
“Okay, fine. It’s everything!”
His brow lifts, and I suck in a breath when he locks his gaze on me. A strong wave of his clean, musky scent assaults my nose as his scalding gaze rips into me. My own gaze sifts over his broad chest, down his sculpted arms, and back to his face. The way he’s looking at me makes me wonder if he’s as intrigued and turned on as I am. Sometimes it seems like he’s a second away from pouncing. Other times he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.
I’ve never met anyone I wanted to smack and fuck at the same time. The odd sensation sends a flood of heat through me.
After five seconds of this sizzling standoff, I realize I forgot the question.
“Care to elaborate? What do you mean by everything?” he prompts.
“Why settle for being under someone’s thumb when you could have any life you want? You’re clearly intelligent, gorgeous, connected… You could do literally anything. An actor, model, influencer. Why live these fake lives in these fake relationships? I don’t get it. I don’t get you.”
A muscle moves in his jaw. “No. You get me just fine. What you don’t get is that my choices aren’t yourchoices. You can’t accept them because they don’t fit yourmold for someone like me.”
“Someone like you?”
“I could be anything?” He leans toward me, triggering a sudden spike of awareness. He must sense the desire surging through me, almost like he’s provoking it on purpose. It pools in my core, and my fingers curve around my purse like they’re desperate to curve around something else. His gaze brushes my clenched fist then lifts to my eyes, burning hot.
“You say I could be ‘anything.’” His tone is stern and almost accusatory. “And yet, all your suggestions were linked to my sex appeal. Did it ever occur to you that I chose this life for the same selfish reasons people choose any life? Sure, I’m good at other things. I’m also damn good at socializing and sex. Why does it matter which talent I use to get what I want?”
“What is it that you want?”
“This.” He waves around us. “A year ago, I was in the Watershed District. Now I’m living in Emerald Point. You think your mom is using me? Look around you and tell me which of us is getting exploited.”
“But none of it’s real. You’re just playing a starring role in her fantasy. She doesn’t know who you really are, and I guarantee she doesn’t care.”
“We’re all playing roles, sweetheart. At least I’m honest about it.”
My retort dies on my lips as I study him.
“My turn to ask a question. Why journalism?” he asks in a direct tone.
“How did you know I’m a journalist?”
“If you’re trying to hide your work, maybe don’t write for the Slate City Star. Also, I should rephrase my question. Why frivolous journalism?”
I stiffen at the insult.
“Can’t it be for the same reason you use sex?”
“It could, but I use sex because it’s a way to get what I want by doing something I enjoy. You don’t seem like a frivolous person and your articles have no passion. You don’t need money or status either. My guess? You got that job because of who you already were, not to achieve something else. Your career choice is as much of a mystery to me as mine is to you.”
“Maybe that’s my role,” I say with a smug look.
His lips tip up at the use of his own defense. “Fair enough.”
We continue in silence for a while, but as my building comes into view, a deep sense of unease settles in my gut. It grows further when I realize it’s for him, not because of him.
She’s going to hurt him. I don’t know when, I don’t know how, but he has no idea what’s waiting for him.
“It’s not that I’m judging you,” I say quietly. “The opposite, really.” My gaze flickers to his as I pull in a deep breath. “There’s more to this, Aden. More to my mother.”
“I’m sure there is.”
“No, I mean. This thing you have with her isn’t what you think. She’s just using you.”
“I know that. We went over this.”
I shake my head, frustrated. I have no idea how to explain something I’m still trying to wrap my brain around. Even if I told him the truth, I doubt he’d believe it. Besides, sharing my theory risks so much more than looking like a fool.
Then again, I’m not sure I’d be able to live with myself if he gets hurt and I didn’t try to warn him.
I grab his elbow and pull him to a stop. Sparks snap over our skin where we connect. It feels so good, and when he steps even closer, my breath catches in my throat.
“What I mean is, she’s not what you think. She’s dangerous, Aden.”
My fingers dig into his arm like they’re begging him to understand.
“Why do you say that?”
I search his eyes for several seconds. This is probably a mistake. It’s not too late to lie and let him learn the hard way like everyone else. He’s clearly been through his own shit and can handle himself. Yet, something feels different about this time. There’s an ominous undertone to this entire situation that I can’t explain and can’t ignore no matter how hard I try. Still, I barely know him, and I could be?—
“You said your mom’s not what I think. What is she, Gabi? You want me to leave, tell me why I should.”
“I already told you. She’s using you for?—”
“Fuck that. What’s the real reason?”
I pull in a deep breath and lock my gaze on his.
“Aden, I think my mother killed my father.”