The Allure of Dean Harper

by R.S. Grey

  “Christ,” I hissed as she bit down on my bottom lip. I gripped her arms and tried to pull back, but she didn’t let me. She wanted to draw blood.

  I growled and pivoted, pushing her back against the wall. I wedged her against the concrete and wiped the blood from my lip. “You want to play rough, Lily?”

  Her eyes looked wicked in the moonlight. Bright and feral and angry.

  “I hate you,” she said through clenched teeth.

  I smiled sardonically. “You bring out the worst in me, you know that? I’m only an asshole around you.”

  Before she could answer, I gripped her chin and kissed her. My tongue slipped into her mouth and she didn’t fight me. Her body was fighting me, her words were fighting me, but that mouth? She was so receptive that for a moment I thought we’d have sex right there against the wall of the private path. That is, until she nearly kneed me in the balls.

  “Fuck, Lily,” I gasped, narrowly blocking her attack.

  She narrowed her eyes and yanked out of my hold. Her keycard was out and she was pushing through the door to the villa before I could catch up to her. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn. For a moment, I didn’t want to step in after her. Nothing good would come from us fighting when we were both heated, but she held the door open. Her body was silhouetted by the lights on the path. Her body was an invitation. That neck, the slender dip of her waist, her long legs propped against the door.

  “I thought you said there was no harm in round two?” she asked from the doorway.

  She was like a villain, leaving a trail of blood and hints meant to lure me into a trap. A man with a mind for self-preservation would have turned and run. Instead, I pushed through the door and locked it behind me. She reached for the light switch and I caught her hand, holding it steady. The darkness fit us. This thing between us was meant for the shadows.

  “You told me to go home,” she said, stepping forward and pressing her body against mine.

  “It’s easier when you aren’t around,” I whispered, cupping the back of her neck.

  “Why? Because you’ve never been with a woman like me?”

  I smiled, but she couldn’t see it in the darkness. “I've never wanted a woman like you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  I kissed her cheek. “I want a woman that makes me feel important. I want someone that appreciates what I do.”

  “Nobody can make you feel important, Dean. That’s why you’ll never be satisfied. You want me to tell you how successful you are? You want me to compliment you?”

  I couldn’t find the words to respond.

  “Oh, Dean, what strong arms you have.”

  I smiled.

  “Good?” she asked.

  “Terrible,” I said, taking her ear lobe between my teeth.

  “You’d hate a woman like that,” she said, slipping her hand beneath the waistband of my pants.

  I reached for the zipper of her dress and I slowly pulled it down, splitting the lace apart to expose her soft skin. I dipped my hand beneath the fabric and pushed the zipper lower, following the curve of her spine. I kept pulling her dress down and she kept slipping her hand lower. What a maddening game.

  “This is the only thing we’re good at,” she said, stroking me.

  I couldn’t disagree.

  If I didn’t want to kill her, I wanted to possess her. I wanted to seduce her to the brink of madness so that for thirty minutes she could do nothing but moan in my arms, too lost in the moment to hate me.

  “Take me to my room,” she begged.

  I pushed her dress to the floor and kicked it aside. She gripped my tie in her hand and tugged me forward. We were lost in the darkness, tripping over end tables and couches and lamps. We fell into her room and closed the door behind us. The room was just as dark as the rest of the villa, but we found the bed and fell onto it. Her limbs tangled with mine, but I pushed her higher, up against the pillows. She was soft everywhere, but the skin between her thighs was pure velvet. I stripped her down to nothing and she pulled the tie from my neck, nearly choking me before finally getting it off. I think she enjoyed it, that line between hurting someone and loving them. I think that’s how she felt about me.

  “Lay back,” I told her, pushing my hand to her stomach and keeping her flush with the bed.

  “I still don’t forgive you for what you did earlier.”

  I smirked and bent low, dragging my tongue up the inside of her left knee. “Maybe you’ll find forgiveness after I’m done with you.”

  She arched her back, pushing up against my hand.

  “Never.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Dean

  Lily stood in the doorway after her shower. She was naked and using one of the oversized hotel towels to dry her legs. I sat on the bed watching her, momentarily sated. We hadn’t said anything for what seemed like hours, but I knew the truce wouldn’t last long.

  “You told me to prove it, and I did.”

  I frowned, trying to place her words.

  “Us,” she said, wrapping the towel around her chest. “It’s just sex.” She smirked. “Dark smoke, but no fire.”

  She turned and closed the bathroom door without another word. She’d thrown her knife and it had met its mark; the only thing I could do was leave before she threw another.

  I was exhausted, especially after the last few hours, but I couldn’t find a comfortable spot on the sectional. I angled my body one way, then another, then stood and tried a different direction. The couch felt lumpy in places it hadn’t the night before. I stared up at the villa’s ceiling and tried to ignore the dull ache in my gut.

  My parents’ words rang back through my mind.

  “You think that fast life will sustain you for long?”

  “Aren’t you lonely?”

  Their questions had always been easy to deflect. I’d moved to New York to become a one-man empire and I’d had no intentions of stopping any time soon. I’d been happy with that life.

  One day, I was content, and the next, I was lying on a couch in Vegas with lumps of indecision disrupting my sleep.

  I didn’t want this.

  I didn’t want change.

  I didn’t want to lay awake with a hollow gut and the taste of regret in my mouth. I couldn’t build a one-man empire if I lost focus. I’d pushed away every distraction that had come my way in the last two years, yet somehow Lily had seeped through the cracks, like a poison. I just had to find the antidote.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Lily

  Something about Dean kept me coming back for more. It had been wrong to sleep with him the first time and just plain idiotic to agree to round two. Dean had stripped me to the bone on that hotel bed and then he’d left me high and dry. Well technically he’d left after I’d all but pushed him out, but that was the way we were. He pushed, I pushed back. He didn’t want an insipid Barbie. He wanted a challenge, but he kept denying it, so things between us would never change. It was a vicious cycle. I needed an intervention. I needed to cut Dean out of my personal life. Cold turkey.

  “Does sitting at a coffee shop across from a cycling studio count as exercise?” Josephine asked as she sat down with her latte.

  I blinked away my thoughts and nodded. “The calories transfer. Like osmosis.”

  She smirked. “So then we should split that banana nut muffin?”

  I didn’t even turn to inspect the case of pastries behind me. I had no appetite. “I’m good. You go ahead.”

  She frowned. “I’m sorry, what? The last time you turned down a baked good was because you thought gluten was poisonous.”

  “That BuzzFeed article made it sound like it was rat poison!” I contested.

  She shook her head and took a sip of her latte. I’d arrived at the coffee shop earlier than her, hoping to sample a few of the pastries for my blog. Instead, I’d sat at a table by myself, sipping on my coffee and people-watching through the front windows.

  “You’ve bee
n back from Vegas for a week and you’ve uttered like four words since then.”

  I furrowed my brows. “Not true.”

  “Asking Siri to play James Blunt doesn’t count.”

  I wasn’t sure she was right, but I didn’t have the energy to fight with her.

  “I’m going to set you up with this guy I work with at Vogue.”

  I scrunched my nose. “I’m not really into male models.”

  “No, he works in the graphics department. He has a beard and glasses, and sometimes from the right angle, he looks like Bradley Cooper.”

  I hummed. “The Hangover Bradley Cooper or Silver Linings Playbook Bradley Cooper?”

  She seemed confused by my question. “Is there a difference?”

  “Big time.”

  She rolled the question around in her mind and then nodded. “I’d say Silver Linings Playbook Bradley.”

  “So he’s cute but a little psycho?”

  “Oh my god, forget it.”

  I shrugged. Fine with me.

  She gave me a few minutes, enough time to start people-watching out the window again before she decided to drop her next bomb on me. “Julian says Dean has been hard to work with lately.”

  My stomach clenched at the mention of his name.

  “Worse than usual,” she added.

  I took a sip of my coffee and purposely stared out at the street above Jo’s shoulder.

  “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  Fuck her prying.

  I forced my gaze to her. “Jo, you and Julian are awesome. You both love each other and you never fight and you’re the cutest thing since sliced bread.”

  “I don’t think that’s how the saying go—”

  “I would love a relationship like you guys have, but unfortunately Dean and I will never be like that.”

  “Why?”

  I laughed. Where to begin?

  “To start, I don’t think he and I have ever had a conversation without one of us yelling. He is rude and opinionated and a workaholic. He has the ego of Kayne West and I hate him.”

  She ticked off the reasons on her fingers as I spoke. “That’s only six things! Pfft, you could totally work through that.”

  I shook my head. “Add on the fact that he has yet to call or text me since we got back from Vegas.”

  She frowned. “Have you tried to reach out to him?”

  I shot her a ‘you’re insane’ glare.

  She held up her hands in surrender. “Maybe you’re right. You two are so freaking stubborn.”

  We were stubborn and I should have hated it, but I didn’t. I loved it. I craved a relationship with him. I could hardly wrap my head around what it would be like. Would Dean wake up and make us breakfast in the mornings? Would I pour him coffee? Never. He’d complain that I did it wrong and I’d probably end up pouring it out on his smug face. God, we’d end up pushing each other to the brink of insanity.

  I knew that wasn’t healthy. I knew that a relationship shouldn’t be about two people trying to win the upper hand. Someone had to give. Right?

  “What’s Vogue guy’s name?” I asked gently.

  Jo peered at me from the top of her latte mug. “Carson.”

  Carson. That’s not a bad name.

  “Tell Carson I’m free next week if he wants to get like chicken nuggets or something.”

  Her brows perked up. “Are you serious?”

  I downed the rest of my coffee before answering. “I don’t kid about chicken nuggets.”

  She grabbed my shoulders. “Not about the nuggets, you weirdo. I’m asking about the date!”

  “Sure. Why not? After all, I am single.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Dean

  After Vegas, I went two weeks before scheduling another team meeting. I focused on my other restaurants and worked in the back office of Provisions, telling myself it was necessary. I sent out work for Hunter, Zoe, and Lily in formal group emails.

  From: Dean Harper

  To: Lily Black, Julian Lefray, Zoe Davis, Hunter Smith

  Subject: LVRW

  Last week went well. I’m going to take the next few days to play catch-up with Provisions and Merchant. Zoe, I need you as floor manager for the next few nights—Provisions went to shit while we were gone.

  Hunter, get in touch with Mark and have him start showing you listings for potential properties. We need to get the ball rolling. I want a list of properties by the end of the week.

  D. Harper

  From: Lily Black

  To: Dean Harper

  Subject: Re: LVRW

  Just read your last email and you didn’t mention me. What would you like me to be working on? Menu? Drinks? Name? Branding?

  -Lily

  From: Dean Harper

  To: Lily Black

  Subject: Re: Re: LVRW

  Start putting together a list of bloggers we need to invite to the grand opening.

  D. Harper

  From: Lily Black

  To: Dean Harper

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: LVRW

  Don’t you think that’s a little premature? We haven’t even picked a location yet…

  -Lily

  From: Dean Harper

  To: Lily Black

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: LVRW

  See last email.

  D. Harper

  From: Lily Black

  To: Dean Harper

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: LVRW

  Fine, I’ll work on the list.

  -Lily

  …

  I tricked myself into thinking that email communication with Lily was harmless, even though every time her name hit my inbox, I felt a familiar rush of adrenaline. Then, two weeks after returning to New York, Antonio Acosta sent me an email and I reluctantly scheduled a team meeting. I’d have to face her whether I wanted to or not.

  As I rounded the corner into the employees-only hallway, I could hear the team chatting in the back office and my grip tightened around the papers in my hand at the sound of Lily’s voice.

  “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” she said.

  “I know. Anything new with you?” Zoe asked.

  I rounded the corner of my office and stared at the back of Lily’s blonde hair. “Oh god, Jo set me up on a blind date for later this week. I need some advice—”

  I stepped into the office and closed the door with a loud slam. Listening to Lily discuss a blind date was on par with getting a root canal. She twisted around to stare daggers at me, but I pretended not to notice. I went around the group and handed each of them a printout of the email I’d received from Antonio the night before. Once everyone had a copy, I took a seat on the edge of my desk and watched them read through it.

  Julian finished first, his brows arched to his hairline.

  “Wow. I wasn’t expecting this,” he said.

  I nodded and purposely focused anywhere but Lily. I wasn’t good about acknowledging the error of my ways, and if I knew her as well as I thought I did, she wasn’t going to let the email slide without gloating.

  “I’m sorry, maybe I’m confused,” she said, staring up at me. “Could you explain what this email means? Just in case I’m reading it wrong?”

  Zoe laughed.

  She wasn’t reading it wrong. She wanted to hear me explain it out loud because she was infuriating.

  I crossed my arms and finally let myself look at her. Her full lips were twisted into a smirk and the glint in her eye proved she knew what she was doing. She was wearing a sleeveless blue dress that left her long legs on display. Her hair was pulled over her right shoulder so that I could admire the curve of her neck. She tapped her finger against the email impatiently. She was demanding and breathtaking.

  I cleared my throat. “Antonio Acosta sent us a revised list of dishes for our menu. He apologized for his lack of preparedness in Vegas. I don’t think he gave a valid excuse as to why his original suggestions were shit. Regardless, the new dishes look
great and we will definitely be flying him out soon for another tasting.”

  Her smirk widened. “Just so we’re clear, Antonio sent us revised dishes for no reason whatsoever? Out of the kindness of his own heart?”

  I gripped the edge of the desk and I shook my head. “You want me to commend your behavior in that meeting, Lily, but I won’t do it. You were rude and disrespectful. On any other day, a chef as hotheaded as Antonio would have smeared us in the press. We’re lucky he was feeling generous.”

  She huffed out a breath of air and crossed her arms.

  “Have we decided on the name yet?” Julian asked, changing the subject before Lily and I dominated the rest of the meeting with an argument.

  “I’m still working on it. I’ve got a few in mind though.”

  “I’ve been coordinating with the graphic designer you hired in Vegas,” Zoe said, directing the meeting toward her work. “Obviously, we can’t do much without a name, but we’ve begun to work on basic branding. You’ve told us what aesthetic you’d like for the restaurant, so once we have the name we can home in on what logo would work best.”

  “Have you forwarded me that progress?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Everyone should have it in their inbox.”

  “Good.” I turned to Hunter and his eyes widened. “How is the search going for the restaurant space?”

  He swallowed and pulled at the collar of his shirt, trying to loosen its hold around his neck. “Um. Yeah. I’ve been looking, but there’s not much out there. Whole lotta rough, not many diamonds.”

  I narrowed my eyes. That’s not what I wanted to hear. “I’m not looking for anything polished, just something we can work with. You’re telling me there are no available leases in Manhattan?”