by Shayne Ford
My eyes dart back and forth as I study his expression.
“How can you even make such a claim? You couldn’t possibly know if I was flirting or not. You weren’t even in the same room with me. And even if I were? What’s your problem?”
“The problem is that it reflects poorly on me. This may be a private event, but business is its sole purpose.”
I purse my lips.
“Mmm... Really? Was dancing and flirting with Catherine Walker business?”
He looks at me, thunderstruck.
Without another word, I turn around and pull away, his footsteps following me shortly.
I push through a set of doors and walk into a large foyer filled with people.
I pick up the pace and sneak behind a group of guests, slipping out the building faster than him.
“Dahlia?”
He thunders my name––not many times has he said it lately. His voice rips through the air, making a few men and women turn their heads.
I don’t have time to jump into the cab as his footsteps follow me closely.
I take a swift turn, veering down the empty street. I pick up the pace, almost running.
He sprints after me and catches me just as I take another turn and enter a dark, deserted alley.
He grabs me harshly.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he says, panting, his hand curling around my neck, his body crashing with mine into the wall.
I prop my hands against his chest and try to push him away without much success. He grabs my hair and pins me with his hips, his free hand clutching my chin.
His eyes blaze at me.
“What the hell are you doing, Dahlia?”
I look at him, spiteful.
“I can ask you the same thing, Lex. What do you think you’re doing? Clearly, you have a hard time to figure out what I am to you. You think I’m some kind of a toy? Something you can play with and drop it before you pick it up again when you remember or when someone else wants to take a look at it. Is that it? What makes you think you can fuck me and then forget about me and then fuck me again? Huh? You think I’m some empty shell that only has a hot spot between her legs and no brain or heart? Is that it?”
His eyes glint cold as a muscle starts ticking in his jaw.
His grip slackens on me. I yank his hand off my neck and push him away. He takes a step back and slides his hands into his pockets.
Silent, he looks at me.
“Nothing to say, huh?” I say.
I almost taste my tears in my mouth. His reaction is not what I thought it would be. Nicholas was so fucking wrong. Or perhaps not, but what he thought Lex had for me is nowhere to be found.
I push off the wall and straighten, my vision blurry with tears.
My shoulders slump as I pull away from him.
I walk by him, and he doesn’t say a single thing, he’s gaze following me in silence.
“Go fuck yourself, Lex. And the woman who can’t wait to have you between her legs. Business my fucking ass...”
He pivots after me, his hand brushing my shoulder, and I spin as fast as my voice shoots from my throat.
“Live me alone!!” I growl, my voice broken with tears and woven with anger.
My heels clink-clank all the way to the end of the alley. I hear his footsteps right behind me. Once I’m on the sidewalk again, I hail a cab.
One stops in front of me in a shrill of tearing tires.
“Dahlia?”
His voice gets cut off as I slam the door shut.
“Where to, Miss?” the driver asks as he pulls away.
After asking the man’s advice on London’s clubs, half an hour later, I find myself not far from the hotel, in front of a dark building with strings of colorful lights hanging from the frame of glass doors.
I push inside.
The crowd moves like a giant body, following the rhythm of electronic dance music.
The throbbing lights are blinding, the sound deafening. Nobody seems to care. Sliding along a wall, I pull somewhere in the back, in an adjacent room, and near the bar. People drink and make out. At least the noise is not that loud.
Perfect.
I’ve never been to such a place in my life, and tonight is not the best moment to start being adventurous.
I manage to find a place at the bar and order a drink. I pay as soon as I get my glass. Just in case, I need to leave in a hurry.
Drink in hand, I retreat in a corner, and hop onto a bar stool, taking in the crazed crowd. They’re dancing, waving their arms and bodies.
It doesn’t take long before two males attach to me, and things get quickly uncomfortable. The alcohol glints in their eyes, and I’m already looking for the exit.
My hotel room is not where I want to be right now, but I have no choice.
I tear away from the men, yet one of them insists on accompanying me outside. I pick up the pace. So does he, and by the time I step outside, his hand is curled around my shoulder.
“Take your hand off me,” I bark.
He starts to laugh.
It may be funny to him but not to me, and before I can make it back and signal to a bouncer, a man lifts my stalker off my arm and throws him to the ground.
“What the fuck is your fucking problem, man?” says the man, pulling off the sidewalk.
For a moment he thinks about charging at Lex, and then he meets his eyes, and spins away, mumbling.
“Have her. I didn’t want her anyway...” the man says, pouting.
“Get in the car!” Lex barks at me.
I pull away from him as well, click-clacking toward the hotel.
He paces after me and grabs my arm.
I turn to him, my finger poking at his chest.
“Stop talking to me like this,” I say.
We clash gazes for a moment, emotion glinting briefly in his eyes.
“Get in the car,” he says with a softer voice.
I look at him, surprised.
“Why was that so fucking hard?” I ask.
I peel his hand off me and walk back to his car. The black Ferrari swallows us, and soon we pull away.
“I don’t want to go back to the party or at the hotel.”
He glances at me.
“What’s wrong with the hotel?”
“Your personality shifts when you enter that suite.”
“Really? What’s wrong with that personality?”
A smile threads through his voice.
“Let me rephrase it. You turn into an asshole.”
“Oh, I see...” he says. “You’re not exactly a peach either.”
“What can I say? You’re an inspiration to me.”
“So what’s the deal with Blackmore?”
I whip my head at him.
“Are you really asking me that?”
He bites his lip to stifle a retort.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Well. I’ll tell you what’s the deal with him when you care to share your business with Madame Catherine Walker.”
“She worked for me in the past.”
“I bet she did,” I say sourly.
“And she’ll probably handle our business if we open a branch here, but you should already know that. That’s why I’m paying you. Are you jealous?”
“Nope. You?”
“No.”
“Then why are you asking me about Blackmore?”
The car pulls to a stop as we wait to enter in a club’s parking lot.
“The man has a reputation,” he says, looking at me.
My eyebrows tilt up with surprise.
“And?”
“And you wouldn’t want to have your heart crushed,” he says, his voice so innocent and his expression so perfectly genuine, I start to laugh.
“Are you doing this on purpose?”
“What?” he says, barely suppressing a smile.
“Fucking with me?”
“It’s the truth,” he says seriously, our eyes locking for a moment.<
br />
“If you’re so damn concerned with me and my heart, then you should look at yourself first. You have way more power over me than he does,” I say as we slide into a parking spot.
Without waiting for his comment, I collect my purse and step out.
“Wait,” he says as I already pull away.
He erases the space between us and takes my hand, our fingers lacing together, his warmth taking me by surprise.
Dumbstruck, I look at him.
He leans to me and murmurs, “I don’t want anyone to break your heart, Dahlia,” he murmurs. “Myself included.”
Without another word, he tears his gaze away from my eyes and walks me into the bar.
12
DAHLIA
It’s a posh club with black walls, silver mirrors, faint lights, large round booths and smooth music in the background.
The hostess wears a flowing chiffon gown and statement jewelry. Her hairdo is reminiscent of an ancient Greek goddess.
The whole place looks like a temple of lust. People are clustered in small groups, couples sharing private booths.
“What is this?” I murmur.
The hostess greets us with a small smile, addressing him by his first name which irks me right from the get-go.
“Good evening Mr. Alexander.”
Something rings familiar, and then it dawns on me where I’ve heard this before.
Elsa and the girls from Silver know him as Mr. Alexander.
I glance around looking for the dancers. There are none, at least not in the main room.
We follow the hostess who leads us through a small corridor, past a few chambers to the door of a private room.
She pushes it open.
I glance at him as they both wait for me to walk in. He motions me to the large plush couch. I set my clutch to the side and sink into the velvety seat.
The hostess locks his eyes briefly. He orders a bottle of wine and slides next to me. I pin my gaze on him and wait for some sort of explanation.
Smiling, he averts his eyes. He sets his phone on the table and shrugs out of his suit jacket.
His shirt is open at the neckline.
My eyes stay on him as he unbuttons his cuffs and rolls them up.
He finally swings his eyes to me.
“You look like you have a lot of questions. Go ahead.”
“Why are we here?” I ask.
A smile curls his lips.
“To talk.”
“Why here?”
“You said you didn’t like the hotel.”
“I said I don’t like you when we’re there.”
“That’s why we’re here,” he says, his eyes flicking to the door.
A server as beautiful and put together as the hostess enters the room and sets the bottle of wine and two glasses on the table in front of us.
She floats away, smoothly disappearing as the door closes behind her with a soft sound.
“I’m listening,” he says as he pours wine into the glasses, evading my eyes.
“What’s this place?”
A secret smile drapes on his lips.
“What is it?” I ask, intrigued.
“It’s a club,” he says, placing the glass in my hand and locking my eyes.
He clinks my glass and brings his drink to his lips.
“Taste it. It’s good,” he mutters and takes a swig.
I do the same and lick my lips. It’s really good. I take a second sip.
“A place like, um... what? Silver? Or Red’s?”
“Something like that.”
“You’ve been here before,” I say.
He looks down at his glass, smiling at a private thought.
“The place is mine,” he finally says and takes another sip of his wine.
I watch him in silence as he runs the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip. Suddenly I feel like tasting that wine on lips.
“Are you planning on moving here?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I may,” he says and glances at me.
I barely suppress my impulse to run my hand through his hair and brush a stray strand away from his eyes.
“Why are you asking?”
I shrug at first, and then I drink more wine. Warmth spills through my body, helping me relax.
“I’ll miss you if you do,” I say with a soft voice, not looking at him, perfectly aware that it’s the wine talking.
He chuckles softly.
“Was that your plan? To bring me here, give me wine and make me spill out the words I’d never say otherwise?” I ask.
He empties his glass.
“I wouldn’t call it a plan?”
“An expectation then?” I ask, amused.
“Yeah... Probably.”
“May I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“You said you might have been in love at one time. Perhaps with the wrong woman...”
He nods.
“Okay. But what happened with those women who fell for you? I’m sure there were a few.”
A smile slowly curls his lips.
“There weren’t that many.”
I throw him an incredulous look.
“You can’t possibly say that to me.”
He nods again.
“Yes, I can. I didn’t say women weren’t attracted to me. They were and are,” he says tossing me a glance that makes me hot. “But I didn’t mess with them. There was never enough time for that.”
I set my glass on the table and look at him attentively.
“How come?”
“I picked a certain kind of woman, and never let them close to me.”
“What if despite the precautions, they fell for you anyway. What happened then?”
“I gave them reasons not to love me,” he says, serious, shifting his eyes away from me.
My mouth falls open.
I gasp in disbelief.
“Oh, my God! That’s what you’ve been doing to me too.”
He watches me intently as I grapple with my newfound wisdom.
“Good and bad. Hot and cold. You played with me, making sure I didn’t get attached to you.”
He doesn’t say anything, and the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that I’m right.
My warm, playful disposition goes right out the window, swept away by anger.
“How can you be such an arrogant asshole?” I ask, the alcohol cranking up my boldness a notch or two.
Unfazed, he looks at me. My eyes get misty with tears.
“I’m not,” he says softly.
“Oh, yes. I think you are. First of all what makes you think I’m falling for you?”
That swiftly puts a smile on his face. I completely dislike it.
“Okay. Never mind,” I say, grabbing the clutch and leaping up to my feet.
My move was perhaps too fast. As I shoot up, the floor suddenly feels unstable, and the room begins to spin with me.
I slide back into my seat and grab his arm.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yes...” I say softly. “It’s the wine.”
He cups my hand and shifts his body to me. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me into his chest. My hand goes up on his back, and my tears fall on his shirt as I press my cheek against his shoulder.
Slowly, he strokes my hair.
“Stop thinking so damn much Dahlia, and let’s find out what this is. Okay?” he mutters with a quiet voice.
His words flow through me faster than the alcohol. I flick my eyes to him.
He looks straight into my eyes and as many times before I have this feeling that he’s entering me.
“Okay?” he asks again.
“Yes,” I murmur.
Slowly, he runs his thumb across my jawline as I slightly part my lips. The emotion in his eyes makes my heart spin in my chest.
“Good,” he mutters before he presses his lips against mine and shifts my whole universe on its axis.
I slide my hand up on his c
hest and let a moan roll off my lips the very moment we begin to kiss.
I’m completely drunk. And drunk on him.
His taste, the lingering aroma of the wine, the dim lights and his touch make my blood explode. It runs faster, churning heat I drown in.
Warm, I respond to him, biting his lip slightly, and tangling my tongue with his, breathing into him. The pleasure grows inside me, woven with my lust for him.
I lean to him, hungry for his kiss. It doesn’t take long, and his hand slips between my legs. In a daze, I part my thighs, relishing his smooth touch.
His fingers roll up, a moment later brushing my wet flesh through the sheer fabric of my panties.
Quickly, I get hot and throbbing.
“Lex...” I murmur, slipping my hand inside his shirt.
“Yeah, baby,” he purrs with a throaty voice.
He locks my mouth again, his fingers slinking inside my panties, his touch making me tremble with pleasure.
I arch and press my breasts against his chest as he curls his fingers and slowly thrust them into me.
“Fuck...” I murmur against his lips, my body shaking in anticipation, my hand already on his belt.
A muffled growl vibrates in my throat as he starts circling my clit with his thumb. My entrance tightens around his fingers. Sliding them in and out, he stirs my wet arousal, igniting a fire in my core.
Palming his groin, I flick his fly open and slip my hand inside his pants. His shaft burns against my palm. Moaning with delight, I close my fingers around him.
He’s hard and pulsing, and I’m almost coming.
“Maybe... we... should go back to the hotel,” I murmur, high on him.
“Uh-huh... We will,” he mutters against my lips, stroking me slowly while thrusting his fingers deeper.
“Lex...”
I squeeze his cock with one hand, desperately clutching his neck with the other.
He watches me with hooded eyes as I quickly lose control. My surroundings become a blur, my body drawing so much pleasure from his touch.
I rub his shaft harder.
“Let’s go,” he says, his gaze burning through me, his lips arching into a smile.
He closes his fly and slides my dress down before he grabs my hand and pulls me up. I follow him in a trance.
He pushes through the door, and then takes a right instead of left, and leads me out the building through the back exit.
The summer evening falls around us, the hot air sticking to my skin, making me even hotter.
