by Shayne Ford
“Then what is this? You can’t find women any other way?”
“You mean dating?” he sneers, and I want to smack him.
“Stop fucking with me, Preston,” I say, glancing around. “First off, the place jams with women. I thought you were dancing with Eve Malone.”
“I was.”
“And?”
“And nothing.”
“She’s one of the best looking out there, and smart.”
“That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?” I ask, annoyed.
“She’s a good girl.”
I look at him, grappling with disbelief.
“Oh, fuck me... What’s wrong with a good girl, motherfucker?”
He grins.
“I’m too fucked up right now,” he says.
I shoot my hand up in the air.
“At least you got this right.”
“Plus, I don’t want to mess up with the maid of honor.”
“And yet you have no problem screwing a business deal because you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”
He raises his hand.
“Stop nagging me. You got your business deal and the credit line you asked for. And I got my blow job. Between you and me, you got the better end of the deal.”
“You wouldn’t have sneaked into who-knows-what-nook to get your blow job if it were so bad.”
He smiles.
“It wasn’t bad at all. The woman was very enthusiastic.”
“Fuck you, Ed,” I say, suddenly irritated.
“Hey, not everybody has a work wife like you.”
I wave him off before I slide my hands into my pockets.
“You’re fucking annoying, Preston. Why can’t you bring the Internet girl into your real life so you can have someone to play with.”
“Oh, so you admit...” he says.
“What?”
“She’s fun.”
I tilt my eyebrows up, throwing him a questioning look.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Dahlia...” he throws at me.
“Yeah, she is, but that doesn’t mean I’m playing with her.”
“Where is she by the way?”
“I have no idea. That’s why I called you. I thought you saw her.”
He looks around as well.
“She must be here... Somewhere. Um... Wait. Last time I saw her she was on that terrace,” he says pointing to the patio overlooking the main room. “She was talking to Daria Morgan.”’
I flick my eyes to him, my skin suddenly cold.
“What?”
A swarm of thoughts barrels through me.
He nods and takes a sip of his drink, his hand tucked in his pocket.
“Yup.”
“Where was I?”
“Dancing with Rain.”
My blood drains from my face.
“What’s the problem?” he asks, pinning me with his gaze.
“I don’t know... yet,” I say.
My chest feels hollow.
I scoop my phone out of my pocket when a call flashes on the screen.
“What the fuck?” I mutter.
“What’s that?” Ed tosses at me.
“It’s the police chief.”
2
DAHLIA
Fucking great.
Pissed, I grab my purse, slither out of the car, kick the tire–– twice, break a heel and finally, climb out of the ditch.
“Where are you?”
Elsa’s voice echoes in my phone.
“You can’t miss me. The car has the headlights on, and it’s on the side of the road, the rear crashed into a tree.”
“Did you call the cops?”
“I’m not calling anyone. Elsa. Stop bugging me.”
“What about 911? You don’t seem to be okay.”
“Is this a fucking joke?” I bark in my phone.
“No. I’m serious,” she says.
And she is.
“Slow down, Connor,” she says with a muffled voice.
“Why is he with you?”
“He was home with me. What did you want me to do? Have him make us pancakes while I pick you up from the ditch where you wrecked your boss’ car?”
“It was an accident,” I shout, standing on the side of the road, one shoe in my hand, and wobbly on the other one.
“Where’s your boss?”
“At the business function.”
“Have you two had a fight?”
“He’s not my boyfriend, Elsa.”
“Clearly. Does he know? About the car...?”
“Where are you?” I ask, irritated.
“I’m close. I think I see you,” she says as the headlights of a car sweep the road.
Connor pulls my car to a smooth stop on the side of the road. Elsa jumps out.
She swings her eyes up and down on me.
“You’re a mess,” she says, taking in the bruises on my legs and arms.
A big blotch of blood covers my left knee.
“We should go to the hospital.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I can clean this up at home.”
“What if there’s something wrong with you? Internally...?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“Head?”
“My head is fine. It wasn’t that bad.”
She glances over my shoulder.
“His car is in pretty bad shape.”
“He’ll survive,” I say dryly. “Let’s go.”
I tug at her arm.
“So did you two have an argument?”
“There was no argument, Elsa. It’s just me being stupid. That’s all. Is it curable?” I bark, my voice getting louder. “No. It fucking isn’t. Is there anything I can do about it? Obviously not. So I’ll just have to live with it. Let’s go home now. This shit begins to hurt.”
She goes silent.
Leaning on her, I limp my way to the car.
Connor steps out and greets me, opening the door for me.
Elsa makes the introductions. The moment couldn’t be weirder.
Connor is a tall and lean nineteen-year-old who has a nice athletic frame and boyish face. One glance at him and I know why Elsa swoons over him.
He has that glint in his eyes promising two things. A lot of fun and an atrocious headache.
He wears ripped jeans and a t-shirt that fits loosely on him. His arms are well cut, his muscles long and perfectly defined. Blue eyes watch me curious from behind bangs of brown hair.
He gently squeezes my hand as we exchange names before he helps me inside the car.
“You need me back there?” Elsa asks as I slip onto the back bench.
“No. I’m fine.”
I stretch my legs and lean back in my seat. I just want to get home.
Connor climbs in as well. The door shuts with a muffled sound before he fastens his seat belt. Carefully, he spins the car around in the middle of the road as we start making the trip back home.
As we pull away, a police car crosses our path. It swishes by with the lights on and stops next to Lex’s car.
Elsa looks at me over her shoulder.
Quiet, I press my forehead against the window and glance away.
*
LEX
“No. Stolen? How can it be stolen? I’m at James’ house.”
The words come fast in my ear. Ed looks at me attentively. I motion to him to follow me as I quickly climb the stairs down and walk around the house.
“Wait a second,” I say on my phone.
The valet catches sight of me and rushes to greet me.
“Where’s my car?”
The man turns to stone. He starts to mumble. I flick my finger up, and he goes silent.
“Is anyone in the car?” I ask.
“No. It was abandoned on the side of the road. Someone other than the driver called the cops, yet he hasn’t stopped at the place of the accident either. There was no one when the officer got
there.”
“Has anyone checked in the hospital?”
“No reports of a car accident. The ambulance showed up at the scene in response to the 911 call, but the driver was already gone.”
“Signs of injury?”
“Blood spotting on the driver seat.”
“All right. I’ll call you back.”
I slip my phone into my pocket.
“She said she works for you,” the man in front of me mutters.
I flick my hand up, and the valet turns quiet again.
Ed locks my eyes.
“What happened?” he asks.
“Where’s your car?”
He points to the Bugatti parked not far from us.
“I need a ride,” I say.
“Who stole your car?”
“No one. Dahlia wrecked it.”
LEX
“What happened, man?”
“I have no fucking idea,” I say, calling her for the third time.
Ed shoots me a side gaze as I toss the phone on the board.
“Is she okay?” he asks, steering left onto the main road.
“I don’t know. She was gone by the time the cop got there.”
“How bad was the accident?”
“They think she slipped off the road, spun around, fell into a ditch and crashed into a tree. They found blood on the seat.”
“Shit. Pretty bad. You sure it was her?”
I flick my gaze to him.
His hand goes up.
“Sorry... She just doesn’t seem the type. What the hell did you do to her, man?”
I swing my eyes to the window.
“You have a way with women,” he mutters.
“I’m not in the mood, Preston.”
“She must’ve seen you with Rain. And that sister of hers... Who knows what she was telling her. Still, I never thought Dahlia is that kind of woman,” he says voicing his thoughts.
“What kind, Preston?” I ask, pissed.
I’m furious, not so much because he keeps mumbling, but because he’s probably right.
“The kind that loses her head. First of all, what was she doing with your car? She must’ve been really pissed. Someone picked her up from the place of accident, then?”
“I guess so.”
“Where do you want to go first?”
“Her place. They pick up my car within the hour,” I say, snatching my phone off the board and sliding it into my pocket.
I tear my bow tie from my neck and tuck it inside my jacket as well. Absently, I unbutton my shirt at the neckline.
Half an hour later, Ed brings the car to a stop in front of Dahlia’s place. I jump out. He parks in front of the building and waits for me inside.
Hurried, I skip the elevator and run up the stairs.
I find her apartment easily. I skip the doorbell and start knocking. Muffled voices travel through the door.
Looking straight at the peephole, I offer my face, and then I knock again.
“Open the door,” I say with a firm voice, but not too loud to wake the neighbors.
The door cracks open, Elsa’s face coming into view.
“Where is she?” I ask as a man, taller than her, steps behind her.
His eyes glue to my face. My gaze swings back and forth between the two of them.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” Elsa says.
I push the door open and walk in.
Both of them step backward.
“I don’t care what she wants,” I say, glancing around and taking in the small, tastefully styled apartment.
The kitchen comes into view first, and then the living room.
“Are you here because of your car?” Elsa says, concern threading through her voice.
The man at his side slides his hands into pockets, studying me intently.
“Did you pick her up?” I ask, looking at Elsa.
“We both did,” says the man.
“Who’re you?” I throw at him.
His cheeks flush.
“He’s my boyfriend,” Elsa says, and I shift my focus away from him.
“Elsa?”
Dahlia’s voice comes from the bathroom.
“Thanks,” I say to Elsa who freezes in the hallway as I stride past her and head to the bathroom.
“I need more disinfectant,” Dahlia says just as I crack the door open.
“What the fuck...?” she mutters, her voice collapsing in her throat as she shoots her eyes at me.
I slam the door behind me.
For a moment, her eyebrows flick up, her mouth pulling open.
Swiftly, she regains her composure.
“What are you doing here, Lex?” she asks, cold.
“Are you really asking me that?”
Clad in a plush white robe, she sits on the edge of the tub, her bare legs on display as she cleans her cuts and bruises.
Her eyebrows pinch in a frown.
Calm, she moves her gaze away from me and back to the task at hand.
“If you’re worried about your car, I’ll pay you back for the damage...” she tosses at me, her voice lined with sarcasm. “When I can,” she mumbles behind a curtain of hair.
Meticulously, she cleans her skin.
“What happened back there, Dahlia?” I ask, plopping my hands on my hips.
She swivels her head and throws me a casual glance, her eyes dipping to my hands.
And fly.
“What do you mean, Sir?” she asks mockingly, determined to tick me off.
“Why did you take my car without my permission and crash it?”
A glare glints in her eyes, her sarcastic humor vanishing.
Livid, she grills me with her stare.
“I can ask you the same thing, Sir. Why did you steal my heart without my permission and then crush it?”
My mouth drops open.
“What...? What are you talking about?”
She rises to her feet, her eyes blazing.
Limping, she closes the space between us.
She stops in front of me and locks my eyes. Her fingers come to my chest.
Ominously, they play with my buttons.
“You know... Alexander Harrington. You’re a big boy. And big boys don’t ask stupid questions. Please don’t disappoint me. You know exactly what you’ve done. Granted, I was easy, but you didn’t need someone like me to put a band-aid on your heart. You could’ve done so many things to get your mind off her. There was no need to play with me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, knowing full well what she’s relaying to me.
A smirk tilts her lips. I get fooled for a moment, so much so, I don’t even see the next thing coming.
She grabs the doorknob and yanks the door open so hard it hits the wall with a bang.
“Get out!” she snarls, pointing to the door.
“Dahlia?”
“Get out!!”
I don’t move.
Seething with fury, she locks my eyes.
“We’ll talk when you know what I’m talking about. Not a moment before then,” she says with a low voice, pointing to the door again.
Pushing back a retort, I tear my gaze away from her, turn around and dash out.
“Elsa, please let Mr. Harrington out,” she throws dryly behind me.
The door slams shut over her last words.
Moments later, I exit the building and rush to Ed’s ride. I jump in and slam the door.
He glances at me.
“What was that, man?” he asks.
I flick my eyes to him. He gets a glimpse of my expression.
He studies me, baffled.
“What did she say? Has she apologized?”
“She threw me out,” I say just as he turns the key in the ignition and the sound of the engine revving up covers my voice.
He turns it off and looks at me incredulously.
“What did you just say?”
“She fucking threw me out,” I mutter.
He stays quiet for a moment, laughter simmering in his throat.
I glance at him. A smile floats in his eyes.
“Are you fucking serious?” he asks.
I slowly nod.
He peels his gaze away and starts the car again.
“Hmm... It looks like you’ve found your fucking woman, Harrington,” he mutters, looking out the window, hiding his grin.
3
DAHLIA
“How is your leg?” Christine asks, sinking into a chair.
“It’s okay. I’ll live,” I say, smiling.
The door cracks open, and Elsa sticks her head in.
“We’ll be late,” she says.
I nod.
“Okay.”
She waves us goodbye.
“You can leave the door open,” I say.
We both watch her and Connor walking out of the apartment.
“Do you want something to drink? Coffee?”
“Yes. Coffee would be good.”
“A slice of pie?”
She glances up at me as I pull out of my chair and away from the kitchen table.
“Okay.”
A few moments pass by as I fill two mugs with fresh coffee, add cream and sugar, and slide slices of cheery pie onto dessert plates.
I finally take a seat back at the table.
We both taste the dessert.
“It’s delicious,” she says, chewing slowly.
The sweet and sour aroma tickles my taste buds as well.
“So... You were saying something about a woman,” she says.
My smile withers away.
“Yes. She stopped next to me on the terrace, and as I was watching them dancing, she started to dish out on them. Something in her voice spoke of regret, perhaps resentment. I had a feeling she had an ax to grind. Anyway, I don’t know what her problem was. I know what mine was, and it just happened that we felt the same way. So, she began to talk about Rain Morgan. About her being lucky, getting away with stuff, and marrying one of the Kings.”
Christine’s eyes widen with surprise. She sets the fork down and slowly swallows, listening to me attentively.
“I had no idea what she was talking about, but in the end, she said something about one of the ‘Kings’ losing his heart to Rain. She referred to someone other than James Sexton. And it was clear to me we were both staring at the man as she was talking.”
Her blood drains from her face.
“Shit,” she says, her palm sliding over her mouth.
