“Shit,” I hear Sean mutter when he finally reaches us. “I told you I have her, bro.”
Soul stealing eyes break from mine, freeing me from their hold before he speaks, his voice deep and full of authority. “She’s a fucking baby, your boss’s daughter, and she’s done drinking. Here anyway.” He turns to me. “Time to go.”
I frown. “Don’t be a pooper.”
I go over the words in my head. Yep. That’s what I said.
I swear I see his lips twitch before he barks at Sean. “She’s leaving.”
“Chill, man. Cecelia, this is Dominic.”
“Dominic,” I say, utterly mystified.
Jesus, Cecelia, tweens have more game.
“My brother made an error in judgment bringing you here. You need to leave.”
“You’re brothers?” They couldn’t be more different in appearance.
“Not exactly,” Sean corrects from my left.
“You’re really going to kick me out?” I ask Dominic, lingering in the jolt I felt in those seconds. Maybe it’s the stout cider, but my palms are still tingling from the exchange.
“Are you, or are you not, Roman Horner’s eighteen-year-old daughter?” His lips curl around the words in disgust, a tinge of an accent lacing each one. Our audience grows, and I audibly gulp as the air around us becomes thick with tension.
“I’m sure I’m not the first underage girl to drink at one of your parties,” I snap, feeling the eyes of everyone on me. He could have taken Sean aside and told him to get rid of me, instead he’s decided to openly embarrass me. “And I turn nineteen in two weeks,” I add with the weakest of arguments.
Dominic’s expression morphs into one of boredom.
“Have I offended you in some way, and anyway, how old are you?” I ask as he gives Sean a withering stare while some unspoken communication passes between them.
“Why?” his gaze cuts back to me. “So you can write it in your butterfly and diamond-studded diary?” I hear the echo of laughter around me and my cheeks heat.
Jesus, Cecelia, stop talking.
“Let her stay, Dom,” Layla speaks up from the patio. “She’s not bothering anyone.”
His eyes scour me from head to foot before he jerks his chin in a silent order.
“Dom, come—” Sean speaks up next to me, and I hold up my hand.
“Whatever, I’ll go,” I glare at Dominic, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, thoroughly humiliated. This pleases him, and I see my cowardly reflection mirrored in his cold steel eyes.
He turns to walk off, and I stop him, my hand on his forearm while I down the rest of my cider before dropping the empty bottle at his feet.
“Oops,” I say in my best bottled blonde imitation.
Gritting his teeth, like my touch is blistering, his eyes slowly drift up to mine, his dark brows slashed in a ‘what the fuck?’ expression.
“You know, you could say it was nice to meet me. You are kicking me out of your party. It’s the polite thing to do.”
“Never been accused of being polite.”
“It’s not an accusation,” I snap, as Sean curses and starts to drag me off. “It’s common decency, arsehole.” Clearly, cider gives me a drunken British pirate accent when I’ve had too much of it, or I’ve been watching too much BBC. I giggle with the rush of a buzz as Sean lifts me into a fireman’s hold.
“And what a pretty arsehole you are,” I drawl.
Laughter comes from all sides as Dominic’s full lips twitch in something close to a smile, and I struggle against Sean to let me down. “I am trouble, you know,” I smart, as a catcall sounds from my left. “Just ask your brother.” Sean’s chest bounces against my thigh as I’m carted through the living room and out the front door.
Once he’s carried me to the driveway, he sets me on my feet, an apologetic smile already in place as he glances over his shoulder.
“What the hell is his problem?”
“I warned you,” Sean says with a grin. “He’s mostly bite, no warning bark.”
“He didn’t have to embarrass me.”
“He gets off on it, I have to admit, that went a lot better than I thought it would.”
“I thought it went pretty shitty.” I slur, realizing just how hard the cider has hit me.
He frowns, studying me carefully. “I’m going to drive you home, okay? I’ll pick you up to get your car in the morning.”
“Fine,” I huff as he opens the door for me. Sitting in his seat, I cross my arms, furious. “I feel like I just got put in timeout.” I turn to him. “I’m not a confrontational person, like at all. Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”
“Dominic could bring the claws out of a nun.”
“You don’t say.”
Sean chuckles, shutting his heavy door before looking over to me with sympathy.
I sink in my seat. “It’s my dad, isn’t it?”
He nods. “He employs nearly half the people at that party.”
“It’s not like he deals with the day-to-day at the plant.”
“He’s got a long reach.”
“Yeah, well, I make it a point not to tell him a damn thing. You can trust me. And I am an adult.”
He taps the lip I hadn’t realized I’d pushed out. “You’re fucking adorable. And beautiful. But let’s be honest, a little too young and good of a girl to be hanging out with us assholes.”
“I’ve been to plenty of parties, I just never really partake. And I like you assholes. Just not that arsehole.”
“Sure about that?”
“Not a fan.” That’s not entirely true, I appreciated the hell out of him until he’d opened his mouth.
“No?”
I slowly shake my head as he brushes the hair away from my shoulder. Sean’s effect on me is potent, and I feel the draw to lean into his touch as he gazes at me. I know my guard is down because of the booze, but I can’t blame it all on the alcohol. He’s disarming, and the attraction is definitely there.
“Then you’re stuck with me,” he says, his voice dropping as he cups my jaw and brushes his thumb over the small divot in my chin.
“Fine with me.” When he slowly withdraws his hand, I feel the loss of his warmth and busy myself buckling my seatbelt, my head spinning from the turn of events. “Thank you for today. I had fun.”
He turns the engine over, and the feel of the vibration against my bare legs sparks a fire inside me. Sean reads my excitement.
“Like that?”
“Hell yes.” I bob my head. “Never been in one of these.”
He studies me, the air in the car growing dense.
“Tell me, what were you just thinking?” I ask, stealing the earlier question from Tyler, my voice a little hoarse from the inhalation of all the smoke and this sun god’s rapt attention.
“Some other time.”
He tears out of the driveway as I giggle in my seat—the ride home as exhilarating as the last few hours. Windows down, the wind whips my hair around my face as Sean speeds down the deserted roads that lead to my father’s palace. Heavy bass thuds throughout the cabin, old southern rock wafting out of the speakers. I stick my hand out my window and air surf, my chest bubbling with possibilities as I steal a glance at Sean and see a promising gleam in his eyes while a subtle smile graces his lips.
It’s the start of a great summer.
“GOOD MORNING, CECELIA,” ROMAN SAYS as I join him in the dining room. He sits at the polished table in a high-backed chair. The rest of the room is empty, save robin’s egg and cream draperies that I know are worth a fortune. He’s dressed in some designer or another as he skillfully plucks some grapefruit onto his fork.
“Good morning, Sir.”
“I heard you arrive last night. Is there something wrong with your car?” He’s displeased.
Tough shit.
“I’m having it serviced, and I’ll be picking it up this afternoon.” It’s the only lie I can manage as I fight the urge to press my hands to my te
mples.
I had no idea that cider could be so potent. Passing on the small breakfast display, I duck into the kitchen—a Michelin star chef’s dream—pull a bottled water from the fridge, gather some of the yogurt I requested his housekeeper buy, and snatch a few grapes. Back in the dining room, I peek out the window to see the front of the property lit up with the new day’s sun. The house would be perfect for a family that enjoyed each other’s company. It saddens me that it’s wasted on a man who doesn’t appreciate it.
“Your first day is today.”
“Yep,” I take the seat opposite him.
“Your word choice is not appreciated, nor is your lack of enthusiasm,” he says dryly, scrolling through his phone.
“Sorry, Sir, I’m still a little shell shocked from the move. I’m sure I’ll have more when I’m fully awake.”
He eyes me, and I see some of myself in our shared dark blue, along with my inherited chestnut hair. “Do you have everything you need?”
I nod. “Anything I don’t, I can grab myself.”
He sets his phone down and regards me with the authority of a parent, which is both laughable and irritating. “I want you to take advantage of this year. Really weigh your options. Have you decided on a major?”
“Not yet.”
“It’s getting late.”
I glance at my new Apple Watch, a first-day gift he had waiting on the threshold of my door last night when I got home. I’m still deciphering if it was a hint on the schedule I agreed to keep or a kind gesture. “It’s only eight a.m.”
“Don’t be coy.”
I wink at him. “Learned from the best.” That’s a lie. I haven’t learned a thing from this man, except time is money for him, and both seem to be better spent elsewhere. I pop a grape in my mouth. “Thank you for the watch.”
He ignores my appreciation, his jaw tensing. “I got a call from HR.”
I slump in my seat and swallow. “Oh yeah?”
“What were you thinking with that comment?”
“I wasn’t, Sir. And I assure you, it won’t happen again.” And it won’t. I’ve spent the majority of my life on the right side of things, and it’s always been by choice. Sean was right. I’m far more good girl than rebel by decision. I’ve seen one too many of my peers go the other way, and it did not fare well for them. Not at all. However, nothing about this exchange is sitting well with me. Any authority my father has right now over my life, I’m granting him, and hating it. It would be so easy to push away from the table and claim my life back, and the year he’s stealing. But it’s more than money, it’s my mother’s welfare dangling overhead, so I straighten my posture. “I’m looking forward to it, honestly. I just may have overdone it a little last night.”
“Not really what a father wants to hear.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, ‘where’s this father you speak of?’ but instead I play nice.
“Just blowing off a little post-grad steam. If it eases your mind, I only had three girl beers, and I’m not much of a fan of drinking, or anything else for that matter.”
“Good to know.”
You know nothing.
“Who brought you home?”
“Just a local.”
“Ah, does he have a name?”
“He does. Friend.”
And that’s the end of our discussion. I make sure of it.
Coast is clear.
Sean: I’ll be there in thirty.
I’ll be out back swimming. Join me if you want. The gate code is 4611#.
My first jump in the pool is glorious. I make sure of it by doing a cannonball and screaming a curse at the top of my lungs. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I don’t know enough about my dad to discern if he’s satisfied with his life, but I’m pretty sure he’s not happy.
Happy people can’t pick up pennies with their ass cheeks. He’s too high strung, a trait I’ve inherited, and am determined to try and rectify. But if this year is all about getting into his good graces and being on my best behavior, I’ll wait until I’m left to my own devices to ensure a quiet rebellion. Everything about my time here so far feels calculated, like everything is in its place, the feel and look of perfectly combed hair that I’m dying to ruffle up. If I’m a rebel at all, my fight is against the monotony. Maybe that’s why I felt so at home at that party. Everything about that group screamed lawlessness, at least in the parental sense. And this time—my time—between graduation and college should be the time I have the same freedom. I spend the first half of my morning deliberating on how to steal some of what’s being stolen back.
My dilemma has a simple solution. From now on, I’ll say yes more often. To whatever and whomever I choose. Playing it safe my first eighteen years has proven to be flavorless, if not a bit fruitless. I don’t want to move into the next phase of my life or the one after regretting chances I didn’t take. So, this summer I’ll trade no for yes. I’ll trade playing it safe for playing, period. I’ll toe the grey area, which includes my obligations to my parents and figure out a way to swirl in a little color for myself.
I’ll take this year of confinement and mix it with some much-needed liberation, not only from my responsibilities, by from my own self-inflicted moral code.
Free time will take on a whole new meaning for this wallflower.
I seal that deal with myself with a leap into the pool.
I’m several laps in when I see the blurry reflection of my new arrival. Breaking the surface, I manage to stifle the gasp that threatens when I spot Sean in swimming trunks, a lit cigarette in hand, standing at the edge of the pool.
From the mere sight of him, I have the urge to cross myself in the Holy Trinity and send up a prayer of thanks. He’s ripped, in every sense, from head to toe, from the razor-sharp cut of unruly hair to his obscene pecs, to the extra pebbled muscle flaring just next to his ribs. The delicious trail of golden hair leading past the waistband of swimming trunks accentuated by arrows of his deep V. It’s as if the devil himself and his physique made a deal, giving him zero room for anything other than golden flesh and muscle. Hovering above, he oozes with sex appeal on dry land as I drown in the sight of him. Even with his chunky gold glasses covering his eyes, I can feel his stare, and it’s a shot of adrenaline straight to the chest.
“Miss me, Pup?”
“Maybe.”
He leans down cupping water to snuff out his cigarette, and it’s the first time I can clearly see the tattoo on his arm. The feathered tips belong to a raven with stretched wings taking up the whole of his upper arm, the head and beak rest against his bicep, facing away from him as if watching his back. The menacing and lethal claws at the foot of the body embedded in such a way it’s as if they’re anchored painfully into his skin. The ink is so vibrant, so bold. It’s as if it’s a separate entity from him. Like if you were to reach out and touch the intricately defined feathers, the bird will react.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks, I’ll tell the owner.”
He looks around. “You really don’t want to stake any claim in all this?”
I shrug. “I didn’t earn it.”
He shakes his head and lets out a low whistle, scanning the grounds. “So, this is how the one percent lives.”
“Yep, and trust me, it’s just as foreign to me as it is to you.”
“How so?”
“We’ve been estranged for years. I had to outgrow my adolescence before he decided we could have a relationship again.”
“That’s shitty.”
“Enough about Roman. You swimming or not?”
Dropping his T-shirt and smokes, he dives in, and I turn in time to see him emerge, a river pouring from his thick blond strands, sliding down his impressive chest.
He lifts to stand, towering above the water line, marking his height an inch or two above six feet.
“How you feelin’ today, lightweight?” He asks, his faint drawl distinct, like perfectly edited punctuation.
“I
feel…like I got drunk off a few chick beers. And maybe a little embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. You made an impression.”
“Couldn’t have been much of one, I got kicked out.” I tread water, feeling the burn of the sun on my back.
“That wasn’t you, it was Dom, trust me.”
“So, tell me why you quit the plant the first time.”
“I was working at the garage, but Dom graduated from college and came back to claim my spot.”
“Dominic just graduated?”
He hikes a brow. “You judged him that hard, Pup?”
“Maybe, but he’s a dick. Where did he go to college?”
“Just got his masters from MIT. Computer geek. He’s an evil genius with a keyboard.”
My interest only grows. “Really?”
He lifts one side of his mouth. “You impressed?”
I stand stunned, not at all able to picture Dominic on any school campus just as Sean cuts his hand along the water creating a tidal wave that drenches me.
I sputter out the water in surprise. “You ass!”
“You’re in a pool.” He lifts a thick brow. “Bound to get wet.”
His statement is loaded with insinuation, and I know Christy would have a field day if she saw this guy. I can hardly believe he’s standing in Roman’s pool.
I move to engage in his play and turn swiftly instead, pulling myself from the water before adjusting my bikini to make sure I’m covered. I picked the less revealing of the two I own, but I might as well be naked with the feel of his eyes on me.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m thirsty? You?”
His eyes dip to the water dripping from my neck. “Sure.”
“Water? Tea? Grape juice?”
“Surprise me.”
“Surprise,” I say, stripping the water from my hair with a towel before wrapping it around me and widen my eyes. “It’ll be grape juice.”
“Living it up today, huh?” His smile is blinding. I fight the urge to ask him to take off his shades. Walking toward the house, I can feel the tension coiling, and I know the goosebumps on my skin have little to do with the air hitting my wet body. Once inside, I carefully trek over the sea of polished marble and peek outside to see Sean hoist himself up on the side of the pool, lighting a cigarette, waiting for me. Fighting the urge to text Christy, I bury my face in my hands and feel a smile building beneath. Though I’ve only had two partners, I’m not an innocent girl. In fact, when I became sexually active, I surprised myself with my thirst, my sexuality, with my fascination for the act itself, and the unexpected cravings after, but this attraction is on another level.
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