by Natalie Wrye
Stepping off his stool, Ben grabs his trench coat, slipping the elegant fabric over his shoulders, and I’m furious at myself for not leaving sooner. For not charging my phone when I had the chance.
Ben glances down at me with sympathy. “Clearly you can’t do any of that with a dead phone. If you’re brave enough, you could, you know, act like a human being and go meet him in person. You do live one floor below him.”
He steps in for a hug, squeezing tight. “And will you call me right after you come?”
“You mean after I go?”
“No, honey. I mean, after you ‘come.’” He grins. “I want all the dirty details.”
I roll my eyes. “Wish me luck.”
Five minutes later, I find myself practically drowning on the sidewalk after attempting to walk the several blocks home.
The rain is cold this time of year in Chicago—nearly freezing, and I wrap my thin coat tight, my collar pulled to my face as I brace my body against the quickening winds. The city is barely recognizable under the sheet of precipitation bearing down on us, and contrary to the assurance I gave Ben back in The Alchemist bar, walking the few blocks back to my apartment building is like braving a Biblical plague. My umbrella can barely block the rain.
I’m soaked to the bone and shivering before I make it half a block.
Ducking beneath a store’s nearby awning, I wait for the rain to finally relent. But it doesn’t.
Bad news is…the alcohol in my system won’t relent either, and the wine pushes me, wet and shaking in my business skirt suit, all the way back to my apartment, fumbling and bumbling right up until the moment I reach the elevator in our over-done lobby.
Of course it’s empty.
It’s late again. Nearly eleven.
I step inside, pressing the button for my floor, my fingertips moving nonstop.
One thumb against the “Up” button, the other against the edge of my skirt, I stand—a dripping, sopping mess from the rain, and for the first time, I’m not grateful that the late-night elevator leaves me alone.
The metal rail is cold against my skin, and I shiver. I tell myself that’s why I’m really shaking. That it’s not because of Sevin.
That it’s not because I’m on my way to meet my neighbor, the most mouthwatering man I’ve ever met. And that I absolutely, positively do not want to sleep with him.
That’s what I tell myself. As for what I’m thinking, well…those two are completely different.
The small steel square rumbles around me, coming to life as it ascends. And I concentrate on anything, everything but the red display reading each floor as it passes.
Floor two. Floor four.
Then six.
I’m in full-on tremors by the time I hit eight.
Each new level leaves me shuffling worse than a cat in heat, and by the time the elevator slows, I can barely breathe.
It stops on my floor, halting with a groan, and before I can set one high heel into the hallway, I hear a small whimper just a few feet from the double doors.
I’m a ball of nerves, ready to come apart and instead of walking into the hallway, I lean forward, peering down it, finding it empty…save for one thing.
Felix.
Blinking innocently up at me, our resident cat’s wide green eyes glow bright beneath a frazzled coat of beautiful black fur.
My gaze shoots from the top of his little head towards both ends of the hallway.
Poor Felix. All alone.
I head towards him, hands outstretched, when I realize that I’m not.
Something—or rather, someone else—is also running down the other end of the hall…in my direction, no less.
The quick thump-thump-thump of footsteps around the unseen corner make my heart beat a similar rhythm and with a few quick steps, I rush forward, scooping quiet Felix in my arms, holding the furry feline like a shield.
I wait for the footsteps to reach me.
Hiding my face behind his soft fur, I hold stance in the hallway, knees knocking, feeling instantly sober as a set of legs comes barreling around the corner.
A set of round eyes in the middle of an adorable heart-shaped face gawk upwards at me, stopping in their tracks.
I blink, my heart slowing aside Felix’s.
It’s a girl staring back at me. A little girl.
Sandy brown strands of hair spill down her tiny shoulders, and with eyes as expressive as Felix’s and just as green, she ambles towards me, seemingly unsure of how to take in the scene, the sight of the frightened cat and the drunken lawyer holding him.
She purses her lips. “Is he your cat?
I glance down at my living breathing shield. “Depends on what you mean by ‘yours.’ Technically, he’s nobody’s cat.” I shrug. “He kind of belongs to the building. No one’s ever claimed him, so, yeah… I guess that might make him part mine.”
I smile, maybe at the knowledge that an eight-year old—maybe nine?—could have scared me out of my wits. I inch downwards as she comes closer, meeting her eye.
“Did he hurt you?” I ask.
She shakes her head, those sandy locks swinging all over her head. She doesn’t smile.
“I found him in the hallway. I tried to grab him, but he turned and ran. I followed him all this way, and I thought he disappeared. Until popped his little head up again so I…”
She shrugs, her small arms lifting a second before dropping.
Her face is so sad and yet familiar in the strangest way. I pet the back of Felix’s head, closing the distance between us.
The little girl freezes and I stop.
“I—I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself to you first.” I reach a hand out, hoping she’ll take it. “My name is Emily.” I nudge the fuzzball in my arms. “This is Felix. Unofficially. But I’m guessing he might have told you that since you’ve already met.”
My fingers float in mid-air and Little Green Eyes stares at them, never moving. I lick my dry lips, swallowing back the remnants of Riesling still there.
I take a shuddering breath. “What’s your name?”
Time stretches for an awkward second. But then she reaches out. Extending her small, slender fingers, Felix’s new friend wraps her hand around mine, shaking it in the most adorable way.
I grin again as she peers at me through the longest lashes I’ve ever seen.
So familiar. Her face is so familiar that it shocks me, though I can’t place it.
“Charlie,” she says at last, her voice as small as her stature.
Still mesmerized by the sense of déjà vu tap-dancing on my mind, I don’t even hear my front door open until someone steps out of it.
The smoky smell of aftershave reaches me before anything else, and I turn to find an angry Olympian glaring back at me—god-like and intense.
Sevin.
And I know—with everything in me—that this time? He knows that I’m, well, me.
I take a deep breath and one step, bringing myself closer to him.
Chapter 7
EMILY
Wednesday night
He stares at me across the small hallway space, taking my breath away.
“I thought I heard your voice out here.” He motions over his shoulder. “We’ve been waiting for you inside.”
We’re?
I swear I’m going to swallow my own tongue as he nods towards the inside of my messy one-bedroom. He glances at the little girl named Charlie.
“How you doing out here, kiddo? Did you find him?”
She reaches for Felix, her green eyes shy as I hand him over. “Yup.” She pets his soft fur. “You were right; he does need a friend.”
“We won’t be here long,” he tells her, his voice softening. He glances at Kayla. “Kayla’s going to keep you and Felix company for a few minutes while I talk to Emily. And then we’ll make a plan to find your mom, I swear it.”
Find her mom?
So many questions but I don’t ask. I simply look up at Sevin, who answers all m
y unspoken inquiries with his eyes.
“Well, come on. We’ve been waiting for you.”
He smiles, as smug and as arrogant as ever, and I don’t know whether I want to smack or kiss his breathtaking face.
I motion to my apartment. “You might want to lead the way…since you seem to know your way around better than I do now.”
He laughs lightly, turning his back to me as he walks—no, more like swaggers—inside. “Kayla let us in with her emergency key.” He scoffs. “Actually, that type of thing’s been happening a lot in this building these days.”
“Oh, great. Remind me to choke her when I have a chance.”
“Get in line. I already had my chance earlier.”
Sheer attraction mingles with fear in an intoxicating mixture that is stronger than the cocktail bar’s wine, and I hold in an unexpected gasp as Sevin, now standing beside me as we walk inside my apartment, allows his gaze to brush across my body.
His eyes roam my skin, touching from head to toe. And then like the arrogant bastard I’d first known, the handsome Hercules-clone walks past me, sitting on the love seat opposite my overwrought armchair where Stephan Knight’s muscular body takes up space.
The senior lawyer stares as I settle on my couch, feeling like a foreigner in my own home. He leans forward in the leather chair, hands perched.
“Welcome, Emily. Glad you could make it in. You’re right on time.”
I inhale slowly, taking a deep breath as I process what’s happening around me. My heart pitter-patters. “It’s great to see you too, Stephan. I just somehow assumed I would be seeing you in the office…” I can’t help but glance at Sevin. “Alone. Did I miss a call for a late-night meeting or…?”
“No,” he corrects. “You did not. But Sevin called in for a meeting and I figured ‘Why not’? Seemed like the perfect opportunity to get you two acquainted since you will be working on his case.”
A kaleidoscope of butterflies takes flight in my tummy, and I settle a hand there. “Sevin is ready to get this blackmailing situation behind him,” he continues.
I bet he is. But I don’t say it.
I smile instead. “As am I. I’m ready to take care of whatever the, uh, client needs. But I’m sure there’s a lot of paperwork we’ll have to take care of first before, uh, Mr. Smith and I will have to get down to business”
I fold my hands in my lap, avoiding Sevin’s stare. “When in the next few weeks would you like Sevin and I to get together to discuss?”
Stephan blinks, his dark eyebrows burrowing deep on his forehead. “Immediately.” He nods at Sevin. “Kayla, Sevin and I have already discussed this. Seems this little blackmail scheme has gone a step further.” He inhales. “Deborah Jett has skipped town. And left her daughter behind. Which may have been her aim all along. Gives the name Jett a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?”
The smile on my face fades. “Well, child abandonment is illegal in the state of Illinois and I’m sure in New York where she’s from. And I’m sure we can get the police to...”
“No police.” Stephan’s voice is strained. “No police. No cameras. And not a word of this to the press. We’re not going to give in to Deborah Jett’s ploy. Mr. Smith wants all of this taken care of as soon as possible.”
I blink. “You mean right now?”
“Yes, of course.” Stephan’s stare is unwavering and I realize with those three words how many miles of shit I’m currently buried under. I close my eyes, strengthening my stomach muscles.
“I understand.” I manage to avoid Sevin’s searing stare only a few feet away. “Mr. Smith and I can meet tomorrow in my office. First thing.”
Stephan smiles—or makes a facial expression as close to one as he can get. “Why wait? Now’s as good a time as any.” He motions to the both of us, looking proud. “I can already see how this will be a perfect fit. You two, plus Kayla, will make a killer team.”
Killer team.
Me and Sevin. Good God.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Sevin glance at me, his green eyes glowing. He rubs his jaw. “You know what, Stephan? I think you’re right… In fact, I know you are.” He stares unblinkingly at me, his gaze prodding, poking at me. The butterflies in my stomach form a fist, punching me in the solar plexus as he leans forward. “Shall we?”
A minute later, Stephan leaves, and the tension between Sevin and I grows thick enough to jump on, like a moon bounce. I glare over at him, wishing he weren’t sitting so damn close, looking so damn good.
I stand to my feet, as he does the same.
I lower my voice to the depths of hell, crossing my arms across my chest.
“If you’re pretending to be okay with us working together for Stephan’s sake, it’s not going to work, you know?”
“Oh really?” Sevin cocks a dark brow, eyeing me.
“Yes, really. Let’s just get this out of the way right now, okay? I know you know that it’s me. I’m the downstairs neighbor you can’t stand. And you’re the upstairs prick preventing me from sleeping. But tricking me into meeting you here, waiting for me in my own apartment…Well, I don’t find it very neighborly. All animosity aside, this is my life we’re talking about here.”
“And this is mine,” he retorts. “I have a baseball career to keep. And I won’t let anything get in the way of it. And I do mean anything, Emily.” He inches his large body forward, and I can see the new resolve in his pine-colored eyes, a closed off wall that wasn’t there the first time we met.
He seems harder now. Colder. I straighten my shoulders to battle the urge to back down.
“I admit: I let my guard down with you. Before I knew who you were… Trust me: It won’t happen again.”
His tone is accusatory, venomous, and every inch, every centimeter, of me is shaking with indignation, quivering.
God, my will is strong. But my nerves are shit.
And even through the anxiety, even past the slivers of fear and through the haze of inexplicable hurt, I feel my backbone stiffen, strengthened by some inner confidence I didn’t even know was there.
I still don’t move as Sevin takes another step closer. I won’t let myself.
His rugged face—bearded and angular—comes within a few inches, and I let him, smelling his heady scent, a combination of citrus, amber and cedar wood, a knee-knocking mix. One butterfly finds its way between my legs, and I squeeze them, hating how he affects me.
Hating how he makes me feel more than Jason ever did in two months.
Using every ounce of courage in my veins, I keep my feet firmly planted to the ground, chin steady, my stare focused and unblinking the entire time.
I don’t know how I succeed. Especially when Sevin keeps talking, his words a husky whisper.
“At first I considered just staying away from you. But then I landed on a better plan: If you’re going to be sniffing around my life—like you have already, it makes sense that now you’ll be paid to do it. That way, I can ensure no more visits from Chicago PD or you taking out your misplaced outrage on someone else’s love life.” He grits each sentence out through tightened teeth, and I balk, that desire to smack him across his stubbled face stronger than it was even minutes ago.
Who knew a face like that could warrant such violence?
Part of me wants to mangle it.
“I can assure you, Sevin,” I insist, my tone searing. “That I don’t give a damn about your love life. And I never will. I’m not going to let you frazzle me because I called the cops on you and your, uh, guests for making animal noises at ungodly hours. And I’m not going to let you get in the way of doing my job because your love life—which seems largely to be devoid of actual love—is just one big rolodex of women whose names I’m sure you forget by sunrise.”
He bristles at that part.
“You are not going to bother me, Sevin,” I continue despite his rising rage. “From now on, you are going to be nothing more than my neighbor—not a particularly good one…and a job.” My stare thins in hi
s direction as I tilt my chin. “You might be the star athlete. But right now, we’re playing by my rules. Got it?”
He doesn’t blink back at me, his stare just as steady. His gaze roams from my chin to my mouth to my nose and just as I think he’s not going to respond, he glances up at my eyes, making every inch of my skin shudder under his scrutiny. I stop myself from biting my lip as he watches me, not saying a word.
His face never moves until he speaks. “I got it… Loud and unbelievably clear.”
“Good.” I nod, the knot of butterflies in my gut finally loosening. “Now, if that’s all, I think I need some sleep before our office meeting tomorrow. Not that having you as my neighbor lets me do much of that anyway…” I turn to head for the door to escort him out, and Sevin reaches for me, grabbing my arm.
His voice is low, almost inaudible even at this close range, and I stop, peering up as his green eyes pierce me. His breath is cool across my face.
“Wait a second,” he says. “I never agreed to meet in any office. I have spring training in Arizona and need to be there for Friday’s game.”
“What?” My mouth drops as he stares at me. “But…you heard Stephan. We—I—need to help you figure out all of this craziness now.”
“I know. And we will.”
He glances at my lips again, his touch warming as his hand remains on my arm. He slowly lets me go, and I breathe—or at least I try to. It’s hard when he’s so damn close. His green eyes glint down at me.
“But,” he continues, “Stephan never said where we needed to work this out. First things first: We need to get you a jersey and one of those foam-fingers so you’ll fit in.” He starts marching away, and I have to follow to keep up. I gape at his muscled back, feeling those damn butterflies again.
“I’m sorry, foam-finger? Jersey? Wait, Sevin…” I yell at his back as he walks out my door. “Sevin!”
Chapter 8
EMILY
Thursday afternoon
Sevin eventually gives me an answer to my question.
Too bad I was an hour too late to stop that answer from happening, and because of Ben and too much wine, I wasn’t early enough to stop my boss from sending me to Arizona.
