Chapter 1 #2
My automatic response was no too. They were strangers, and I was being reassured that they are good people by another stranger. Besides, I would never be well again. No was the right answer.
The only answer!
But I looked around and instead of feeling scared to be in a room of guys, I felt a level of comfort that was just bizarre.
Earnest reassurance came off them in waves, and I really wanted to say yes.
I had two years left of life, did I really want to spend them home alone watching HBO? Maybe I wanted to take this chance?
Have you gone mental? How are you even contemplating this? You might only have two years, but the wrong choice could make chemo seem like a resort spa. Haven't you ever seen the Saw movies? Ace was outraged in my mind, but lucky for me she was just a voice.
Seeing me so obviously vacillating, Eli came to my rescue.
“You don't have to make your decision now.
Stay for dinner, Valery is a three hat chef.
He's making something extravagant, I'm sure. No one else is allowed in the kitchen.” He turned to look at a man who was leaning against the doorjamb.
He was shorter than the other men in the room, but still inches taller than me.
He had floppy blonde hair and a smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.
“Unfortunately, I was only making mac and cheese,” he replied. His voice had a slight accent that I couldn't place.
Oz scoffed. “Mac and cheese with blue cheese and some other fancy shit. Not like you poured it out of a box, Val.”
Valery smiled wider, dimples creasing his cheeks. He was very cute. Actually, they were all kind of hot. So weird.
I smiled back at him. “I'd love to stay for dinner. Thank you.” They did save my life. It would be rude to turn down their dinner invitation.
How have you even survived this long?
Valery looked like all his Christmases had come at once. “Excellent. I shall be in the kitchen,” he said and left, muttering to himself about bread and maybe pickles? His accent made him sound like he was saying ‘keeshun’ and it was adorable. Maybe French?
I took a better look around the room. There was a massive flat screen TV in the center of one wall, and the leather sectional sofa was positioned around it.
A glass bookcase held a small collection of books, some very old judging by the cracked leather spines.
Everything was tastefully minimalist in muted tones of silver and navy.
It was definitely a bachelor pad. There wasn't a throw pillow in the place.
“Please, sit. Everyone can stop loitering around now,” Eli said, and everyone converged toward the sofa. “Oz, put on some music please.” I leaned over the back of the couch to see Oz hadn't moved from his comfortable position.
“You aren't coming up here?” There was something about Oz that made me want to tease him.
“Nope, but you can always come and join me down here.” He gave me a wink and I blushed.
It didn't help that I could see a small strip of his flat stomach where his shirt had ridden up.
“Mini-Oz, play ‘Pretty Girl Dinner Party’ playlist,” he yelled at nothing, but sure enough, the sound of Frank Sinatra started to pour softly into the room from hidden speakers.
“That is seriously amazing.”
“Voice controlled home management system. The pinnacle of technological laziness.” He grinned widely at me and I grinned back.
“Well, I'm impressed.”
“You shouldn't encourage him,” a soft voice said from beside me.
I whipped around to see the most beautiful man I'd ever laid eyes on sitting mere inches away on the couch.
He must have been hiding in a dark corner or something, because I definitely would have been dumbstruck before now.
Thankfully the guy ignored my unhinged jaw and continued.
“He's hidden the remotes, so now the channel can only change on the TV if he says so. It's super annoying.”
I could only nod as I took in the man's midnight blue eyes, high cheekbones and ash blonde hair. He looked like a Scandinavian supermodel.
“I'm Sam,” he held out one huge hand. I took it, and tried not to sigh contentedly as its strong, soft warmth enveloped my own.
“Cady, nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine. I wanted to introduce myself before I had to head out to take Ri to work.” He nodded toward the pretty guy from the subway station with the golden skin and tattoos. And the voice like raw sex.
I gave Ri a little wave, and he smirked back. “Nice to see you with some color in your cheeks, Beautiful Girl. You scared the hell out of me back there.”
“I'm sorry,” I said, meaning it.
He gave me a sad smile. “Me too.”
He picked up a leather jacket from the back of the couch and threw it over a black jeans and tight grey shirt combo that sculpted his body like a liquid. My mouth physically watered.
“Well, I better get to work, I'm already late. But if I turn up with the great Sam Sigurdsson, they'll forgive me once the pictures start hitting Instagram and Twitter. Free press.”
Sam Sigurdsson. The name rang a bell. Hang on. “Oh my goodness. You're the Calvin Klein model from the side of the bus.”
They all laughed, and someone muttered something about five foot junk.
“Hopefully you're still here when we get home. But if not, I hope to see you again soon. Take good care of yourself.” Sam took my hand in his and kissed it. I forgot to breathe. Ri winked as he followed Sam out the door.
Now Sam had left, I could see the person sitting on the couch beside him. My mouth swung open again. “You're the Armani suit guy from the Times Square billboard. What the hell is this place? Mecca for models?”
Oz man-giggled from behind the couch.
The Armani model slid his perfectly proportioned body up the couch toward me. His face showed signs of a mixed heritage, but I couldn't guess what. He had beautiful golden skin, not quite as dark as Ri, a smooth square jaw and almond shaped eyes.
“Tolliver. Nice to finally meet you.”
Odd choice of words, but then he smiled and I was distracted by the shiny white perfection of his teeth.
“Hi,” I squeaked. “Aren't there any trolls amongst you at all?”
“Comparisons have been made between Oz and Bigfoot.” Tolliver sounded amused, but he didn't crack a smile. “Would you like a tour of the mansion?”
Wait, mansion?