Time-Lapse

by Heller, JB

  As soon as Grandfather has walked away, and I’ve pulled myself together, I blurt, “You have to say no.”

  Hux spins around and says, “What? Why?”

  I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Shit. I fumble for words. “You can’t, I mean, no, that’s what I mean. You have to say no. When he asks you to stay on, to display in the hotel, you have to say no.”

  Hux frowns. “And why would I do that? Being associated with Victor Quinn will do amazing things for my career. I’d be a fool to refuse him.”

  I can’t think of a good answer right now, so I say, “Because, you can’t just show up out of the blue and expect everything to be fine and dandy.”

  His eyes narrow on me. “I never said I expected anything. So maybe you should stop jumping to conclusions.”

  I eye the champagne flute in his hand, and the remark slides right off my tongue. “Taking after Daddy, I see. Turning to alcohol instead of dealing with your problems like a big boy.” It was a cheap shot, and I want to take it back as soon as the words leave my mouth.

  Hux has never looked at me the way he is right now. I can feel the pain my words inflicted in my bones. I reach for his arm to apologize, but he pulls away from me.

  “No,” he says, and I feel that one word down to my toes. “You don’t get to judge me.” His nostrils flare with the effort it’s taking for him to keep his composure. “I’m going to go talk to whomever it is I have to, and you? You’re going to stay the hell away from me for the rest of the night.”

  Then, he’s storming across to the other side of the room, picking up another champagne flute from a passing waitress as he goes.

  Tears pool in my eyes. I can’t believe I said that. That’s not me. I don’t try to hurt people, but that’s exactly what I was aiming for when those words left my lips. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to feel a fraction of the pain I felt when I woke up five years ago and he was gone.

  Ben steps up behind me. His big hands wrap around my shoulders. “Liza, wanna tell me what’s going on now?”

  I sigh. I’m sure he’s figured it out by now, but I turn around to face him anyway. “Hadley is Hux.”

  Ben’s expression darkens immediately. “As in, the punk who broke your heart? That Hux?”

  I nod. “One and the same.”

  He goes to step in the direction Hux just walked, and I push my palms into his chest, stopping him. “No, Ben, please don’t. It’s in the past, and that’s where I want to leave it.”

  “If it’s in the past, why are you on the verge of crying? And why is he here? There are a hundred other galleries in the city he could have held his little exhibition at,” he spits, all the while keeping his eyes locked on Hux across the room.

  “I’m fine, okay? Just a little thrown. He didn’t plan this. His assistant, or publicist, or whatever she is did it. Please, can we talk about it tomorrow? Just let it go for tonight,” I plead.

  Eventually, Ben nods and backs down. I sigh in relief. “Thank you. Now, I’m going to call it a night. Can I trust you not to make a scene after I leave?”

  “Would punching him in the face be classified as making a scene?” Ben asks.

  I glare at him. “Yes, Ben. The grandson of the owner of Quinn Plaza attacking the talent at his own exhibition would equate to making a scene,” I deadpan.

  “Fine, I’ll wait until he goes to the bathroom or something,” he mutters under his breath, and my hand flies out, delivering a lightning-fast nipple cripple. He slaps my hand away. “Okay, okay, I won’t do anything—not tonight, anyway.”

  I nod. “Thank you. Now stop worrying about me, and go enjoy your date.” I push up on my toes and press a quick kiss to Ben’s cheek.

  Looking around the room one last time, I catch a glimpse of Hux talking to an older woman who appears to be getting handsy. The clear discomfort on his face gives me a small burst of joy as I push through the glass door and head to my suite.

  Yes, I live at the hotel, which is why Hux taking the position with Grandfather is so terrifying. I’ll have nowhere to go to escape him. He’ll be in my space, day in and day out, until he’s finished decking out the place. And then I’ll be faced with him everywhere I turn. He’ll be on the walls, constantly surrounding me.

  I’d rather eat my own foot than live through that.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I toss and turn all night, thinking about El. Thinking about the fullness of her lips. The grace of her movements, even when she was storming away from me. The length of her slender legs. The curve of her neck. She’s every bit as beautiful as she was before, if not more so.

  The train of my thoughts travels straight to my sex-deprived dick. I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. I haven’t felt even the slightest amount of attraction to any of the women who’ve pretty much thrown themselves at me. I used to be able to at least get it up for them, but not these days.

  It’s like he—my dick—isn’t interested in life anymore. And I can’t say I blame him.

  But he’s all about El tonight. The more I think about her, the harder I get. I haven’t whacked off to thoughts of her in a long time, but I think I’m about to break my El abstinence, as I’ve come to call it.

  I had forbidden myself from thoughts of her when my dick was involved. It wasn’t good for me. It messed with my head too much. But tonight, that’s flying out the fucking window because my fist is wrapped around my cock, jerking furiously as I picture her flushed cheeks when she was telling me off earlier.

  It doesn’t take long for my balls to tighten, then my come is coating my lower abs. I reach for the box of tissues on the bedside table and wipe myself clean. I need to get some sleep if I’m going to make a good impression with Victor in the morning.

  I wonder how Victor would feel about hiring me if he knew I just whacked off to thoughts of his granddaughter. Hell, I wonder if he will want to hire me if he finds out about our past.

  I’m thankful I stopped drinking the champagne when I did, even though I really wanted to down a few more glasses when I got cornered by the handsy cougar. A shiver runs down my spine just thinking about her—and not in a good way.

  When I got back to my suite, I promptly stuck my fingers down my throat to rid my system of the alcohol that remained. Then, I smashed a few glasses of water and some Tylenol in the hopes that it would lessen the effects of the inevitable hangover.

  * * *

  When my alarm goes off, I roll over and swat at the bedside table until I find it. I want to sleep all day. That was one of the worst nights I’ve had in a long time. But I get my ass out of bed and shower before dressing for breakfast with Victor. I can’t let this opportunity pass me by. Not because working with Victor could propel my career to even greater heights, but because it will mean seeing El.

  After last night, I don’t want to go back without her. I haven’t felt so alive in a long time. And now I know why. It was her. It was always her. Deep down, I knew what was missing, but I didn’t want to admit it because wanting her—no, needing her—is selfish.

  She said some fucking hurtful things, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean them. It’s not in her nature to be deliberately hurtful. Well, it never used to be. And I intend to find out if that’s changed or if she’s still my El on the inside as well as the outside.

  It’s right on eight o’clock when I walk into the hotel restaurant and the attendant leads me down the back to a table by the window—but it’s empty. Before I can question her, she says, “Mr. Quinn just popped in to say good morning to the kitchen staff. He’ll be out shortly. Can I get you anything while you wait?”

  Her eyes are roaming over my entire body, and I know what that look means. “Coffee, thanks,” I say then look out the window, letting her know I’m done with her.

  A different server brings my coffee out a few minutes later. “Here you go, Mr. Hadley. I saw some of your work in the gallery when it was being set up. You’re really amazing.”

  I try to make my smile
as un-awkward as possible, but I’m not good at accepting praise of any sort, not even about my work, so it comes across as more of a grimace. “Uh, thanks,” I say, then, thankfully, Victor walks up to the table, saving me further embarrassment.

  The server jumps when Victor approaches. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Quinn.” She glances at me like we were just doing something inappropriate then back to Victor. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I’ll have tea, thank you, Marcy. I’ve already organized our breakfast with Pedro,” he says, dismissing her.

  When he says the name Pedro, I snort, and when Marcy is on her way, Victor asks, “Did I miss the joke?”

  My eyes widen. I can’t exactly tell him I used to call my dick Pedro back when I was boning his granddaughter. So, I lie—or at least I try to. “Just the name. It’s, uh …” I’m searching for something to say and coming up blank.

  Victor grins. “It’s your pecker’s name, isn’t it?” he says, his eyes alight with mirth.

  I choke on my coffee. Grinning, I hang my head. “It was—a long time ago. He doesn’t really have one anymore,” I tell him. And I’m not sure why I elaborated, but whatever.

  Victor frowns. “How can he not have a name anymore? Who changes the name of their goods? It’s the same as naming a baby. Once it’s done, it’s done,” he says.

  I chuckle. “Okay.” I get his point, but I’m a little weirded out that I’m sitting here discussing the name of my dick with El’s grandfather.

  He loses the frown and cracks a smile. “Well, that’s not exactly how I planned on starting this meeting.”

  “I wasn’t expecting it either, sir, but I’ll roll with it,” I tell him.

  Victor keeps laughing. “I needed a good laugh, so at least that’s been accomplished this morning. But now, business.” His expression changes when he says that, and it’s like he’s put on his serious face.

  I nod. “Right, business.”

  Over the next hour, we eat the best eggs Benedict I’ve ever had, with crunchy bacon and avocado, and discuss me staying on to deck out the hotel with my work.

  He’s pretty much giving me free rein over what pieces to use, with the exception of one particular piece. He wants The One, The Only to have the feature space in the lobby. I am sure he is going to say something about the resemblance to El, but he doesn’t.

  I’ll be staying in my suite until I’ve finished my work here. It shouldn’t take me more than a week, but I don’t see Eliza softening toward me in such a short time, so I’m going to do the only thing I can do and drag it out as long as possible.

  Since it’s Sunday, I decide I’m not going to start today, which fits in with my plan. No weekends or after-regular-hours work to be done. Instead, I duck back up to my room and grab my satchel so I can go exploring around the city again.

  I really enjoyed myself yesterday, and I’m looking forward to getting lost behind my lens. Popping in one earbud, I press play on a random playlist then slide my phone in my pocket while I wait for the elevator to arrive.

  When the silver doors slide open, I see her. Eliza. She’s standing in the middle of the elevator, alone, in a pair of stretchy black pants and a crop-top thing that makes her breasts look amazing and plump while leaving her midriff bare. I barely resist drooling at the sight of her, but the elevator doors sliding closed before I’ve even stepped inside snaps me out of my trance.

  Shaking my head, I enter and stop right in front of her, looking down into her beautiful eyes as she stares back up at me. She doesn’t move away, which I take as a good sign, but then she says, “I see Ben didn’t rearrange your face on a bathroom break last night.”

  I rear back slightly. “What?”

  She raises a brow. “Your pretty face is still intact, so I guess Ben kept his distance like a good boy.”

  My eyes narrow. “Your boyfriend wanted to have a go at me?”

  She smiles up at me. “Yep.”

  “Why?” I grit out.

  El snorts. “Why wouldn’t he?”

  Damn, I’ve missed that little snort. She’s so goddamn gorgeous. That little sound alone makes me shake off the comment about her boyfriend. I don’t want to talk about him right now. I’ve only got her cornered here for a few more seconds, so I use it.

  I step closer and closer until I’ve backed her against the far mirrored wall of the steel structure as it descends. Once she’s flat against it, I take another half step so I’m only just touching her, and it feels so damn good. I want to crush my body against hers and kiss her senseless.

  But I don’t. I have some self-control—until I notice the shift in her breathing and the pink tinge spreading over the tops of her breasts and up her sweet neck. My resolve starts slipping, so I take a quick step away from her tempting body. My dick is already responding from that slight amount of contact. “Bet the boyfriend can’t turn you on with so little effort,” I say, trying to cover my almost lapse.

  She glares at me. “You think I’m turned on? Pl-ease.”

  There’s the attitude I’ve missed so much. “Oh, you are definitely turned on. In fact, I bet if I slid my hand inside your panties right now, I’d be able to feel just how wet you are for me.”

  Her eyes widen. “No, I’m not,” she snaps then crosses her arms under her breasts for good measure.

  It doesn’t help the situation I have going on in my pants right now, but I push on. Tilting my chin, I lean down, bracing my hands on either side of her, then I gently nudge her throat with the tip of my nose. Her breath hitches, and she automatically slants her head back for me.

  I trace the edge of her jaw up to her ear and whisper, “You’re still mine, El.” Then, the elevator dings, and the doors begin sliding open. Pulling back from her, I smile then walk backward until I’m standing in the lobby, and she’s still pressed against the back wall.

  I watch her chest heave. She’s a hot mess, and I fucking love it. I stand there until the doors slide closed again, and only when she’s completely out of view do I walk away with Blink 182 singing “First Date” in my ear. And I realize … I never took her on a date.

  I smile. I need to fix that.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The sun is setting, and I find myself on the rooftop of a random building in the middle of the city, watching it from behind my lens. The colors merge seamlessly—purples, pinks, and oranges. It’s stunning watching dark storm clouds roll in at the same time as these colors bleed through the sky.

  Perched on the side of the brick building, I patiently wait for the perfect shot. And then, a bolt of lightning flashes in the distance, and I take it. Then, I check the viewfinder to make sure I caught it. I did.

  Satisfied with the image, I head back to the hotel. I can smell the coming rain in the air, and it puts a smile on my face, the scent reminding me of my last night with El.

  I don’t quite make it all the way back before the sky opens up. But I don’t mind. The satchel I keep my camera in is waterproof for this very reason. I love being out in the rain. I feel like it’s washing away all the shit I don’t want to think about as it slides over my skin and onto the pavement below me.

  There’s a small park across the road from Quinn Plaza, and I detour into it instead of returning to the hotel. I find a bench and sit. The park is empty except for a few people scurrying away, huddled under their umbrellas, trying to escape the downpour.

  I close my eyes and turn my face up to the sky, enjoying the feel of each droplet as it makes contact. This right here. This is my happy place.

  I could see the rain clouds rolling in, and I immediately felt relieved. I’ve been a clusterfuck of hormones and emotions all day, thanks to Hux and his little performance this morning. Then, when I met Grandfather for lunch and he told me he had hired Hux, I wanted to cry. I won’t be able to withstand another run-in like that.

  I keep reminding myself I’m a fucking fierce dolphin constantly, but it isn’t helping.

  The moment I saw the rain begin to pelt the glass
windows of my suite, I set out for the park across the road. It’s my go-to place when it’s raining. Everyone else leaves, and it’s just me sitting there, enjoying the peace that settles over me. And I need it desperately today.

  I take the entry directly across from the hotel entrance and make my way down the winding cobblestone path, but I pull up short of my bench. Someone is sitting in my spot. I narrow my eyes. It can’t be. But as I edge closer, I realize it definitely is.

  The high I’d gotten the second I stepped out into the rain slowly begins to deflate, and I sigh.

  Hux’s head drops, and his eyes snap open, coming to focus on me. He doesn’t say anything, but he slides over to the end of the bench then gestures for me to take the other side with a sweep of his hand.

  There are other benches I could go sit on, but for some stupid reason, I don’t want to.

  Closing the distance between us feels better than it should. I don’t want to be around him, I remind myself. He hurt me. He hurt me so bad. But being this close to him feels too good. What is wrong with me?

  I sit on the far end of the bench, but our eyes never lose contact. He watches me as keenly as I’m watching him. I look for clues as to who he is now. My eyes slide down his face, over the stubble covering his jaw and throat. His shoulders are wider than before and more muscular. His wet black T-shirt is plastered to his body, and it leaves nothing to the imagination.

  He’s not overly built, but he’s defined. I can see it in his rippling abs, and my eyes follow them down to that amazing V that leads to the most beautiful dick I have ever seen. My throat goes dry just thinking about it.

  I force myself to continue cataloging his features instead of lingering on my old favorite.

  His light-wash denim jeans are soaked through, and his shoes are soggy. He’s been out here for a while, then.

  I wonder what he’s doing. I mean, it’s not a normal thing for people to do. My family thinks I have a screw loose when I drop everything to go stand in the rain, but there is no better therapy than letting the deluge wash away your sorrows. And if that doesn’t work, screaming into the downpour as the rain takes your tears with it usually does.