I smiled. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”
Without pausing, I left them sitting there. They wouldn’t even miss me. In fact, I could sneak out the back, grab a ride share, and be back at Zeke’s house for all that it mattered. We’d performed our function and been seen together. I might even suggest I do that when I got back from the bathroom.
This club used too much strobe light. It was a mistake I saw far too often. The clubgoers didn’t like it overdone when it came down to it. Not that anyone was asking me what I thought. I could just see how it put off at least three quarters of the dancers when it went on too long. Some places it worked, but here, people wanted to see and be seen. The strobes got in the way. Maybe it was that the manager didn’t understand what he had here. He thought he had a dance club, or perhaps that was what the owners wanted. I didn’t know and didn’t care. I just knew that I hated strobes. They made my eyes hurt.
The hallway to the bathroom was full, but I managed to not fall into anyone as I made my way inside. I didn’t actually have to pee, which was helpful because the stalls were all taken up, but there was space by one of the mirrors, and I stared at myself for a long moment, forcing myself to breathe.
My strange panic-induced need to move was probably not as bizarre as I thought it was. I’d run from my wedding. I was bound to have some delayed reactions. Maybe I should go ahead and talk to a therapist. I was probably way overdue for talking to one anyway.
“And I thought he was coming here with me, but he came with her.”
A girl cried out in accented English, weeping onto her friend’s shoulder in the space next to me on the wall of mirrors.
I looked up, startled by the sound. Other than Zeke, I hadn’t heard English spoken aloud until I said it since I’d run from my wedding. People responded in English after they realized I couldn’t speak French. But those two were, if I had to guess, Irish…and they were crying in the bathroom. Well, one of them was and the other was consoling her.
That’s what friends did. Or sisters when they weren’t handling our father.
They saw me staring. I saw it the second they recognized me, which in this case was a good thing, since otherwise, they’d probably have told me to go fuck myself for so rudely watching them and listening in on their conversation.
I quickly looked down and spoke to them even though I stared at the sink. “Sorry, you were speaking my language. It caught my attention. I’m not trying to be invasive.” I looked up to smile. “But if someone did that to you, they’re out of their mind because you’re gorgeous. And he’s not worth your tears.”
I’d managed to get the attention of all the women in the bathroom who were speaking in hushed voices. I ignored them since I couldn’t understand them to begin with, which made it significantly easier to do.
The crying woman brushed tears off her face. “You really are her.”
I shrugged. “The redhead who ran from her wedding? Yes. Whoever it is out there who treated you so disrespectfully, he is going to swallow his tongue when I’m done with you, if you want.”
They stared at each other and then back at me. I had them. I could fix her up and make her already stunning black outfit look even sexier when she walked out of this bathroom. I should probably mind my own business when faced with these situations, and it wasn’t like I ran around New York City fixing outfits on a regular basis. But it wasn’t like I was terribly busy either. I could go sit in silence with Zeke, or help this poor woman make some man eat his bad attitude.
She took my hand in hers. “This is so surreal. You’re here.”
I wanted to shrink from her touch. This part of the role I tried to play was hard for me. Truth was I was happier not being around too many people all at once. The bathroom was getting crowded, and I had no security to help me. I steeled my back. I’d been the one to open this proverbial door, I was going to figure out how to make this okay.
“Where’s your makeup bag?”
It didn’t take long to make the blonde beauty feel better about herself. Sometimes, it wasn’t about what I actually did as much as the fact that I told them they looked gorgeous and they believed me. We took a couple of selfies together, and I did my best to seem like the Layla they wanted me to be. I slightly adjusted the belt on her dress and made her change earrings with her friend.
In the meantime, they talked. They were from Cork, Ireland. I’d never been there, but I was now invited to visit, even though I couldn’t remember their first names, and they wanted me to stay with them. I did a lot of nodding and smiling.
When I was finished, the no-longer-crying one of the pair exited the bathroom with her head held high, looking like she’d just come off a runway. I followed fast behind her lest I found myself having to makeover everyone in the bathroom. I was happy to be helpful, but the encounter was draining, even if it was my own fault.
The crowd in the hallway had doubled, too. Women whispered and some tried to grab me. I dodged and weaved until a tall man with blond hair stood right in front of me. “Hi,” he said in English and sounded American. He didn’t have any discernible accent to me at all, but I was sure people from other countries would think that he did.
I looked up to meet his blue eyes, which were red-rimmed. I knew the look well because I’d just left someone with similarly rimmed eyes at the altar. This guy was on something, and I really wasn’t in the mood. “Hi.”
Having said that, I intended to move around him, but he didn’t budge. In fact, he grabbed on to my arms. “I heard you were here. I know your brother. We went to school together. Well, for a year before you guys moved out of San Francisco. How is he?”
“Fine. I’ll tell him you said hi.” Not that I’d taken his name or was in any way going to speak to Justin anytime soon, but maybe he wouldn’t notice.
“What’s your hurry? Let’s dance. And then you can tell me all about Justin and what that—”
“Sorry.” Zeke’s arm was suddenly around me. I hadn’t even seen him come up, let alone get close enough to me to put his arm around my waist, but I was grateful for it just the same. I sighed. His presence was…comforting. “She only dances with me.”
With that statement, he moved his arm from my waist to my hand, wrapped our fingers together, and tugged me with him so that no one in the club was getting near me anytime soon. I expected him to take me back to Luc and our seats, but instead, we were on the dance floor.
The strobe lights burned but only for a second before I forgot they were happening at all. I didn’t see Luc anywhere, and Zeke’s hold on me was intense as we moved to the music. I was no kind of dancer, but I didn’t care. He was holding me like he owned me.
And he could actually dance. His muscles were hard under my hands, and I held on to him like the lifeline he had suddenly become. Dancing was a prequel, an invitation to check out how the person you were with moved in intimate ways. My body buzzed being this close to his in a way that was different than it had been on his motorcycle. My breasts ached and pushed against his chest.
Was this real? Or was he posing for some cameras somewhere? I didn’t care. I’d pretend this was real. If it were all fake, that would just make for a better screenshot later. I threw myself into the moment. The beat. The way that the crowd was around us, all of them lost in whatever they were doing at that very second. Nothing existed except right fucking then.
His mouth came down on mine. Like before, I hadn’t known he was going to kiss me, but I didn’t mind it in the least. This time, I kissed him back. It was hard to chase where he led. He kissed differently than I’d ever been before. We weren’t doing this together; it felt more like he claimed me, and I was to come along into his passion because he demanded it. I loved the sensation.
Finally, he pulled back and stared down at me, his hand coming to pinch the tip of my chin. Bending over, he whisper-shouted in my ear to make himself heard over the bass of the music. Or maybe it was the pounding of my heart. “You vanished into that bathroom for a
fucking hour.” Had it been that long? “I might have thought something happened to you if I hadn’t heard the whole place start to buzz about how you were helping some girl in the bathroom. Don’t do that again.”
I lifted my chin, which made him move his fingers. “Did you kiss me as some sort of punishment?”
“I kissed you because I wanted to. I always do what I want.” He bit my earlobe, and I yelped but not in pain. No, I was absolutely stunned by the way my knees threatened to give out and pleasure surged right to my core. I’d had no idea I would have liked that, but I really, really did.
He smiled. I couldn’t see it, but somehow, I could feel it. I knew deep in my soul that in that moment, he was absolutely grinning against my ear. His own breath hitched. “And you don’t feel punished right now. Come on. Fun’s over. Let’s go home.”
I had to think. My mind whirled, and it was like I was in a fog I couldn’t clear. “What about Luc?”
“I sent him off with a hooker half an hour ago.”
Well…that was one way to show the man a good time.
Back at his monstrous house, the kiss and the bite might as well have never happened. Zeke’s stiff-backed reserved presence returned. My stomach grumbled. I’d never eaten the food. It was really amazing. Most of the time, I wasn’t even aware when I was hungry, but since he’d started insisting on my eating, it was as though my hunger instinct returned in a major way.
He nodded at the guard, who was a different person than the one I’d seen the other times we’d come and gone, and entered the house. Without turning to me, Zeke strode to the kitchen. “You’re hungry.”
Yep…he’d heard my stomach rumble. “I am.”
He flung open the fridge. “Usually Carlos leaves me something to eat. Apparently not tonight.”
“That’s fine.” I walked past him. “I’ll make us something to eat.”
Zeke jolted, turning to look at me. “You can cook?”
“Not like your chef, but I can put something together. How about comfort food? Hmm?” I took his place by the fridge. Yes, it was fully stocked. I wasn’t going to have to try hard to make this happen. “Go sit down.”
He pulled out a chair at the counter and did as I asked. “I wouldn’t have thought of you as being able to cook.”
“Again, don’t get your hopes up for some kind of gourmet thing here. I am going to grill some chicken and cook up some vegetables. Most of the time, I prefer to eat at home. Easier to control the caloric intake. Speaking of which, do you think we could get me a scale?”
He was quiet for a moment. “No, you can use the one in my bathroom if you want one. I’m not giving you your own scale.”
Was he serious? I’d no sooner placed the chicken on the pan to quickly grill it on the stovetop when he made that announcement. I looked over my shoulder at him. “Why not?”
“Because I like you eating three times a day, and I have a very good idea that it’s going to stop if I give you too much access to a scale. So, you can use mine. I’ll keep an eye on it.”
I groaned. “Do I have enough money in my account to buy my own fucking scale?”
“You do. But if you put that in the house, I’m going to throw it out, so ask yourself how much you want that scale because you’ll have to buy it again and again.”
I momentarily considered throwing the chicken at him. Instead, I took a long breath. “My feet held up tonight. Maybe we could run tomorrow.”
I didn’t exercise enough. The sad truth was I could eat more if I took the time to work out. And if he thought I wasn’t going to go into his bathroom just as much as I fucking wanted to in order to use his scale, he had another think coming. I absolutely would. In fact, I might go in there and weigh myself ten times as much as I usually would just for the sheer fact of pissing him off.
I smirked. That was a whole side of my personality I hadn’t experienced lately. A little bit obstinate…
“I’ll wake you when I get up and we can run.”
I nodded. “Sounds good, but I might already be up.”
I cooked in silence, but it didn’t feel strained. Instead, I was fully aware of his eyes on me and not in the way I was when others were viewing my every move. It wasn’t the creepy ants crawling on my neck. No, it was warm, like he stroked me with his gaze. Still, when I turned around, he was quiet and remote as though that hadn’t happened.
Our late dinner done, I served us and dug in when he did. I’d done a good job. The chicken wasn’t dry, and although it was simple and not anything special, I liked eating it. Most of the time when I prepared a meal, it was just for me.
He rose after a moment and poured us both a glass of red wine from a bottle he’d had corked in the fridge. I took a sip, and he lifted his eyebrow. “Like that one?”
“It’s robust.” That seemed the right word. “Yes, I like it.”
“That’s one I might buy. That vineyard. We’ll see.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I have to work tomorrow. My day starts around noon here and goes late.”
That made sense with the time changes. “That’s how you go to that café every morning. You start later.”
“Yep.” He took another long sip. “And we’ll start to work on what-will-Layla-do-with-her-life tomorrow, too.”
“Great.” I rolled my eyes, and he laughed, throwing his head back. I loved the sound and the way he did that so easily. This was the real Zeke. Not the way he’d been with Luc. That was a show.
He grabbed my plate when I was done and put it with his in the sink. I guessed it would sit there until morning. I finished my wine which made my head feel heavy. It was late, and the wine had made me warm.
But I wasn’t sleepy.
We walked together upstairs, and I paused outside of the room. “Does the television work in my room?”
“It should. Why? Did it not?” He strode toward me and opened my door before entering. At that point, he discovered what I had when I looked for it during the time I got dressed earlier. There was no remote anywhere I could find, and the TV didn’t easily turn on.
He sighed, loudly. “I pay them a lot of money to not have this problem. It’ll be fixed tomorrow. It’s just an oversight. Come on, you can watch TV in my room.” Like he’d simply solved the problem, he strode down the hallway back to his own suites.
I blinked. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“You’re not. I can’t sleep yet either. Wound up. Get changed and come in. You can pick what we watch.”
It was very easy to follow his directions, and I decided not to question why that was. I changed into my pajamas, which were a small pair of boy shorts and a white tank top, and went into his bedroom. The remote was on his bed, displayed obviously in the center. Which side was I supposed to sit on?
Zeke exited the bathroom, shirtless and in dark pajama pants. Once again, I couldn’t seem to help but stare at just how buff he was. My cheeks heated up. I’d been up against him on the dance floor. What was wrong with me now that I’d suddenly reverted to being utterly stunned at the sight of him shirtless?
He sat down on the left side and patted the right. Both of us sat on top of his comforter. Did he just want me to put the TV on? “I can totally go back to my room. This is your private time.”
“Layla. I told you it was fine, so it’s fine. End of story.” He handed me the remote. “Whatever you want to watch, put it on.”
I flipped through streaming services until I landed on Star Trek. It was a secret I didn’t often discuss, but I was absolutely a huge science fiction fan. One of my nannies had shared her love of it with me when I was about nine years old. I’d been hooked ever since.
“Picard or Kirk?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
I grinned. “Could be Janeway or Sisko, right? Or Archer.”
He shook his head. “I’ll ask it again. Picard or Kirk?”
“Picard was the captain who hooked me, and I have come to love Kirk.”
Zeke smirked at me. “Good answe
r.”
I put it on. I guessed we’d start with episode one on the Next Generation. “Encounter at Farpoint” was a famous one. I knew it well and even though it was totally bizarre to be in Zeke’s bed watching it, there was a familiarity to it that soon lulled me into forgetting about the oddness and just loving the moment. At the very least, I’d never forget this.
Chapter Thirteen
We watched three episodes and had started on the fourth when I fell asleep. I didn’t remember doing that or even know I was about to. One second, I was wide awake, the next thing I knew, I was being gently scooted over so Zeke could cover me with the blanket. I roused enough to realize what was happening.
“Sorry.” I struggled to sit up. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Stop. Go back to sleep. You’re fine.”
That didn’t make sense. “In your bed…”
“Yes, back to sleep.” The room was dark, and I was warm. He told me it was okay, and so it must be. Zeke never did anything he didn’t want to do. He’d kick me out if he wanted me to go. I really hoped I didn’t snore. That was the last thing I could think about, because dreaming was just such a nice place to go.
It was cold, and that brought me back at some point from the cushion of happiness where I had been cocooned. But there was warmth nearby, like a beacon, and I rolled toward it snuggling back down.
I woke up when the sun came through the window, hitting me in the eyes. It was morning. That much I knew. I had to wake up and do…something. Morning meant getting out of bed.
Wrenching my eyes open, I was suddenly very confused. Where was I? It took half a second to come back to me. I’d fallen asleep in Zeke’s bed, and what was more was that I was half sprawled on him. My arm was across his chest and my head sort of pressed into his side, or it had been before I lifted it.
He was on his back, one arm under my body, the other above his head slightly touching the back of the bed. His eyes were closed. In sleep, Zeke looked the most relaxed I’d ever seen him. He had incredibly long eyelashes, longer than my own, and I coveted them.
Redhead On The Run (RedHeads Book 1) Page 14
