by René, Dani
* * *
It was Thursday afternoon, and we were on the plane heading back home when I pulled out my laptop and powered it up. I had three emails which needed a reply. One was from Bash.
From: Sebastian Hart
To: Emily Reid
Date: July 24 - 16:00
Subject: Invitation - Sponsors Dinner
Emily,
I need your help. Because of everything that happened with Blake, I needed to source a new sponsor. They want me at their event tomorrow night, July 25, and, of course, I want you to be there. I’m not good with business and marketing, and that’s what they want to talk about.
I will have the car pick you up, or I can. I don’t mind. Please?
Bash xo
Sebastian Hart
CEO - Tribal Fuel
I looked up at Triston who was busy with his own emails. What was I meant to tell him? I took a deep breath. “Triston, I need to go to an event tomorrow night. With a client.” I added that last part, so he didn’t freak out too much.
He looked up and nodded. “Sure, which client?”
“Well, that’s the thing. It’s um . . .” I mumbled.
“Emily, spit it out,” his voice a direct order.
“It’s Tribal Fuel.” I stared at him. His facial expression didn’t falter. His eyes were like glass as he looked at me. He gave a small nod.
“Right, well you best please the client then.” He looked back down and carried on typing. I wasn’t sure what to do. I was expecting him to freak out, but this silence was disconcerting. What did he even mean? He sounded indifferent, which was so unlike him.
“Really?” My voice came out higher than expected, and I squeaked.
He sighed. “Emily, if he wants you to go to an event, I can’t stop it. I am not happy about it, but it’s work.”
I hit reply and told Bash I would love to go, and I would prefer if he picked me up. I asked him what I should wear and hit send. I didn’t have to wait long for a reply.
From: Sebastian Hart
To: Emily Reid
Date: July 24 - 16:15
Subject: Invitation - Dress
I will get you something to wear, to be delivered to Triston’s apartment, I presume?
Sebastian Hart
CEO - Tribal Fuel
I replied yes and closed my laptop. Sitting back, I thought about going to the event with Bash. I remembered the kiss from that horrible night, and I felt nervous.
* * *
It was a long first day back at work, and Triston didn’t mention that night’s event, and neither did I. He had a meeting with James after lunch. After that, for the rest of the day, it seemed like his mind was elsewhere. Charlie drove Triston and me home. I needed to get ready for this evening. Bash said he would be picking me up at six p.m. I checked my phone. I had an hour to get ready. As we made our way to the elevators, I noticed a new car in the parking lot. “I wonder if they’re our new neighbors?”
Triston grasped my hand. “I don’t want you alone tonight at all! Okay?”
I frowned. Why was he so overprotective? Blake was in custody until the trial. “Yeah, sure, I’ll be fine. Blake is behind bars,” I reminded him, and he gave me a small nod.
“Emily, can you just obey me for once?” His voice was harsh as he unlocked the door. His eyes blazed with anger. I wasn’t sure what was going on with him, and I wasn’t in the mood for a fight. I didn't like the way he was talking to me right then. I thought he might be tired, but it seemed there was something more, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“Look, if you don’t want me to go tonight, then tell me! Do not talk to me like a child!” I stormed into the bedroom and saw that Mrs. Morrison —Triston’s housekeeper— put the dress bag on the bed. I unzipped it and pulled out the soft material. It was a beautiful black, strapless, satin dress. It would be too long for me; I would need to wear heels. I checked the time. I was running late.
Triston came up behind me. “I just want you safe.” His voice had softened.
“I am not a child. Don’t ever talk to me like one.” I faced him, and I could see the hard line of his jaw. He was biting back something, which infuriated me more. “What?” He shook his head and left the room. I didn’t have time, so I went into the bathroom to get ready.
Walking into the living room thirty minutes later, I heard the buzzer. Triston got up to open the door for Bash. He looked at me and smiled. “You look beautiful, angel.” I nodded. I was still fuming. Triston turned to open the door. Bash walked in, and my breath caught. I had never seen him in a suit. He was dressed in an immaculate, black suit with a crisp white dress shirt and a shimmering, silver-blue tie finished off his look. His hair was messy, spikey, and standing in every direction.
“Triston.” They shook hands, and I could feel the tension between the brothers.
“Bash. Hey, is this okay?” I stepped forward and gestured to the dress. His eyes met mine, and I saw a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Wow. Yeah, Emily. My assistant knows how to pick a dress!” He smiled. “We better get going. Traffic might be a nightmare.” He stepped onto the landing. “See ya, Tris.”
Triston turned to me as I walked toward the door. He leaned down and gave me a chaste kiss on the lips. I felt him radiating tension. “Be careful, please?” His voice was low, and I wasn’t sure if he meant being with Bash or something else. I nodded.
“Okay, see you later.” I turned and felt the tension following me as I stepped out of the apartment. Bash and I entered the elevator, and I pressed the ground floor button. “Is something wrong?” he asked as soon as the doors closed.
“No, we just . . . see things differently.” I gave him a small smile.
“You do look amazing, by the way. I mean, I didn’t want to say anything in front of Tris, but man, he is lucky.” His eyes roamed over me, and I shivered. The doors opened, and I saw a red convertible BMW parked in the visitor’s bay of Triston’s apartment.
“You’re the one who chose the dress. Well, your assistant. It’s beautiful. You know that. Thank you, Bash. You really didn’t have to—”
“I did. It’s my way of apologizing for taking advantage the other night. I didn’t mean to.” He unlocked the car and opened my door. I slid into the sleek black leather seat. The car smelled of Bash’s spicy cologne and leather, a heady mix, and I felt calmer. My nerves had been on end after my argument with Triston.
Bash slid into the driver seat. “Look, Bash, it’s okay. Don’t apologize. I kissed you back, but we cannot tell Triston. Please?” He nodded as he started the engine and pulled out of the parking spot. “Noted. My brother won’t find out.”
Bash sped out of the garage and into the quiet street behind the apartment block. “So, what is this event we’re attending? I didn’t think you did fancy.” I turned to see him smile. Making his way to downtown Manhattan, I noticed there wasn’t any traffic. We were headed toward the Upper Eastside, and I figured it was going to be one of those posh places.
“It’s an investor interested in helping me out. I need the backing right now as we’re taking off, and he is really into marketing and events, hence why you’re here. I mean, why else would I ask you?” His eyes flickered to me, and I saw a naughty look on his face. His smirk was as devilish as his brother’s, and I knew I needed to keep my head screwed on straight tonight.
“So, this is purely professional, right?” I stared at him.
“Of course, darling, why? Did you think I was trying to steal you from Tris?” His voice was soft and deep, almost a whisper. I shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t. I will not kiss you or touch you unless you ask me to, and when you do, I will make you forget everything. Even if just for a moment.” His words sent an involuntary shiver down my body.
“Bash—”
“Okay, okay! I shouldn’t have said it quite like that, but I’m not going to apologize. Emily, I think about that night we spent together every single day.” Bash slowed down, pulling
into the underground garage of a fancy-looking apartment building.
“If you keep on about that, I’m going to get a cab and leave.” I looked at his rugged features. He was so different from his brother, but they had the same devilish appeal. He parked and turned off the engine.
“I apologize, darling. No more sexy talk, okay?” I giggled at his facial expression and nodded. He got out and came around to open my door. Slipping my hand into his waiting one, we made our way to the entrance.
* * *
“Mr. Hart, welcome.” It was strange hearing someone say that and not refer to Triston. The usher escorted us to a large table when a tall, friendly man walked over to Bash.
“Hart! Welcome. I guess this is the lovely Miss Reid?” He held out a hand to me. I smiled and shook his hand. “I’m Mr. Richards. We’re going to have a lot to talk about!” He laughed. “I’m going to welcome the other guests. Get yourselves something to drink.” He left us and wandered over to more guests entering the venue.
“Come on, darling. Wine?” I nodded. Bash called the waiter over and ordered a glass of wine for me and a beer for himself. He turned to me. “Thank you for being here. It means a lot to me.” His voice was serious and sincere.
“It’s a pleasure. It is a work function, after all.” His smile disappeared, and he nodded, pulling my chair out. I sat down, and he took his place next to me. Most of the evening was spent talking about work, marketing plans, and event schedules. Then our host got up and made a speech, announcing his investment into Tribal Fuel. He mentioned working alongside Je Te Veux Events for marketing and event purposes. When he left the stage, the music was turned up, and it seemed like the party was starting. There were only about fifty guests, but everyone was immaculately dressed and elegant.
“Do you want to dance?” Bash looked at me expectantly. I nodded, and he grabbed my hand, leading me onto the dance floor. The song changed, and I recognized the beginning piano of the Ellie Goulding song “I Know You Care.”
The lyrics tugged at my heart, and I knew my feelings for Bash were still very much alive. My arms instinctively laced around his neck. I felt his left-hand slide down the side of my body, lightly resting on my hip. “Just let me know when you’re ready to go. I don’t want to keep you out too late. In case you get into trouble with Tris.” We swayed to the song.
“Why would I get into trouble? He isn’t my father, and I don’t have a curfew.” My voice came out harsher than I intended, and Bash gave me a strange look. I looked up into those warm, hazel eyes, and a smirk crossed his lips.
“Trouble in paradise?” he inquired softly as he led me across the dance floor. His grip tightened on my hip, and I felt my body respond.
“No, it’s just . . . It’s nothing. Can we not talk about it?” As the song ended, I dropped my hands from Bash’s neck and stepped back, turning and walking back to our table. I felt his presence behind me, his fingers guiding me from the base of my spine. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. Why was he having such an effect on me? I sat down and took a gulp of wine and felt the liquid calming me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” His voice trailed off, and I realized he must think I was angry at him for asking about Triston and me.
“You didn’t. I just didn’t want to discuss your brother with you. This is an event for you, so let’s have fun.” He smiled, and his face lit up. Those molten hazel eyes melted into me, and I turned away quickly. My phone rang in my bag. I pulled it out and answered the call. “Triston?”
“Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you.” His voice was low, and I could hear the anger radiating from it. “You should let me know when you’re getting home.” I felt my blood boil at him. We were at odds tonight, and I didn’t know why.
“Later. Dinner just finished and I can’t very well get up and walk out. I told you I might be late; I wish you would stop worrying!”
“Miss Reid, do not dare take that tone with me! Do you hear me? I will put you across my knee and spank your ass into submission!” His voice was dripping with anger and lust. I squirmed in my chair hearing his threat. I felt eyes on me, and I knew Bash was watching my reaction. I needed to end this call before I lost it.
“Triston, I will see you later, okay?” I pushed the red button, hanging up on him before he had a chance to say anything more. I knew I was in for a long night. Shouting at him was my first mistake. Hanging up on him was my second, but I couldn’t have him embarrassing me in front of his brother.
“Everything ok? I can take you back if you need to go?” I shook my head. Picked up my glass of wine, I gulped it down. This time, I was the one radiating anger.
“Can we go somewhere? Just like, get out of here?” My eyes met Bash’s, and he nodded, getting up and grabbing my hand.
“Sure. We can go to my place? Unless you wanted to go clubbing or something?”
I shook my head. “No clubbing. Your place sounds good.”
We walked down to the car a few minutes later, and Bash opened the door for me. I slid into the car and pulled my phone out of my bag. No messages or calls from Triston. He was probably seething with anger, and frankly, I didn’t care. He was infuriating, and I wanted to let him simmer. I would go home later. I didn’t feel like walking into the apartment, feeling like a teenager getting ready to be grounded for going out.
“You sure about this?” Bash asked, and I knew it was completely opposite to what I should be doing. I smiled and nodded against my better judgment.
Chapter Sixteen
Bash unlocked the door to his Manhattan loft. I stepped inside and noticed it was the total opposite of his brother’s modern penthouse. It felt warmer, with dark leather sofas and large, deep red rugs. There was a large fireplace in the open-plan kitchen-living room. The view was just as magnificent as Triston’s.
He walked past me into the living room, and his scent hit me all at once. I was overwhelmed by it. “Can I get you a drink?” I nodded absent-mindedly. “I can have my driver take you home when you’re ready,” he added with a small smile.
“Sure. I am guessing you don’t have wine?” I joked.
“I do, actually. It’s a bottle I got as a gift a couple of weeks ago.” He walked into the bar area as I explored. The art on the walls were painted with rich, dark colors that matched the furniture. Everything about him was warm and homey. I stared at one of the pieces hanging above the large, red brick fireplace. I got such a melancholy feeling as I stared at it. Although I felt a hint of sadness from it, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Whoever painted it must have been hurt and brokenhearted. The way the paint hit the canvas and the colors were vivid; the sadness reached out at you. “That’s my favorite piece. I did it about three years ago.”
I turned to face him. “You painted this?” He nodded and smiled. “Bash, this is amazing! You should sell your art!” He shrugged.
“I don’t do it for money. I do it because I love painting.” He put his glass down and turned on the sound system. The soft, rich voice of Lana del Rey filled the room. It was one of my favorite albums of hers, the new one called Honeymoon. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared down the hallway. I took the time to explore the rest of the apartment. I walked into the kitchen and noticed it was spotless. Of course, he wouldn’t do much cooking since he seemed to work as much as Triston. I looked out at the city. Central Park was just below us as a dark, formidable shape.
Walking back into the living room, I noticed a spiral staircase in the corner and wondered where it went. “Here you go. You need to change if you want to see up there.” Bash walked back into the living room wearing only a pair of ripped blue jeans that hung low on his hips. My breathing halted, and I gasped. I drank in the sight of him.
I gulped down my wine and grabbed the tee and shorts he held out to me. “Thanks” was all I could muster. A devilish smirk appeared on his face, and his eyes twinkled in the dim light of the apartment.
“Emily, if you looked any harder
you may turn me to stone,” he joked and turned to pick up the beer he had left on the table.
I walked passed him and realized I had no idea where to go. “Where is your bathroom?”
He chuckled. “Down the hall, first door on the left.”
I followed his directions and found a large bathroom with dark grey tiles across one wall of the two-person shower. In the other corner was a large spa bath. I stepped out of my heels and slipped the dress down, folding it. I pulled on the shorts and noticed they fit perfectly. They were like my black yoga shorts. Did he have a collection of women’s clothes laying around? Did he expect me to come back to his place tonight? I pulled the tee over my head and noticed the pins in my hair slowly coming loose as curls escaped the knot.
Grabbing the dress and my shoes, I padded back to the living room. “Is this presentable? And do you normally keep women’s clothes at your apartment?” I inquired, not sure why it bothered me so much.
He smiled and nodded. “It’s extremely presentable. You look good in my top.” I flushed at his compliment. “Yes, I have a collection of women’s clothes. So that when I have random, beautiful women here I can have them change in my bathroom.” He laughed at my facial expression as I stuck my tongue out at him. I set down my dress and shoes on the sofa. “The shorts are part of my merchandise. Come.” He held out a hand and led me to the spiral staircase I saw earlier. “You first.”
I was painfully aware of him behind me. “Are you enjoying the view?” I asked cheekily.
“Of course. Why else would I have you walk in front?” My body tingled at his words and my heart hammered against my ribcage. I reached the landing and took in the scene before me. Paint everywhere. Three easels with large canvasses. “This is why you needed to change.” Bash walked in front of me and smiled. “Welcome to my sanctuary. I have always had my art; it’s been my go-to when things got . . .” His words trailed off, and he dropped his gaze. “Anyway . . .”
