“I didn’t say,” I cut him off. “And I know exactly who you are.” I turn and offer her my arm. Scarlett takes it without hesitation. Good girl. Some of the tension starts to fade.
We continue walking in silence until we reach the bar, where I signal the bartender for a couple drinks.
“Sorry for all that.” I gesture with my drink before taking a sip of the fruity house concoction.
“I’m perfectly capable of caring for myself,” she snaps, downing hers and closing her eyes tightly. “I don’t need to be pissed on like a bloody tree.”
Giving her this moment to collect herself, I study her face. A little worry line appears right between her perfectly sculpted brows, and I want to kiss it away.
“Shit! That’s tart.” Her face screws up as she sets her empty glass on the bar, signaling for another.
Unable to contain myself, I laugh, which earns me a smack to the chest. I notice her hand remains, and my heart beat rages just beneath the surface. As if she can feel it, she pulls it away. Now it’s me who’s downing my drink and ordering another.
“Sorry I was bitch before.”
“Which time?” I joke, referencing our little run in this morning.
“Cheeky,” she replies.
“You weren’t, either time. Look, I get it. I’m sure you can handle yourself, but I couldn’t stand to see him all over you. I didn’t know what else to do. I figured wounding his pride would send him back to his hole to lick his wounds for a bit and at least buy you some time. I wasn’t intending on hiking a leg or anything.”
“Thanks, for rescuing me, and for being honest.” Honest. My stomach sinks. If she only knew.
“You’re welcome. You can return the favor if the hula twins suddenly show up,” I tease her, trying to remember I have a job to do.
“Deal.” Scarlett raises her glass to mine, and they clink on an unspoken toast. “But what’s wrong with the hula twins? They look like Hawaiian goddesses! What man wouldn’t want that?”
“I’m really more into blondes.” I wink at her.
“Oh really?” She snorts. Her face looks horrified as she brings her hand up to cover her mouth.
“Well, yes. It’s nothing to snort at,” I tease again, which earns me another smack, but this time, her hand doesn’t linger.
“I’m have a very particular type,” I whisper as I take the stool next to where she’s standing and place a leg on either side of her. She leans a little closer to hear me over the noise of the party. “I prefer long silvery blonde hair,” I lean in, taking a deep breath, “that smells like sugar and spice.”
Her eyes widen, but she stays where she is as I continue. “I’m drawn to mysterious, indigo eyes that look almost purple in the right light.” Her pulse jumps in her neck.
“I adore heart shaped lips, pouting out in defiance…they are my absolute favorite.” My gaze drops to her mouth, which parts to form a perfect “O”. “The type of cheeky little lips that need a nip from time to time.” My own tongue reaches out and licks my bottom lip in preparation.
She’s so close, our breath mingles, and I fight the urge to pull her to me. I remind myself we are in a front of nearly a hundred of her colleagues. The last thing I want to do is add more rumors to the scintillating pile of rubbish.
Someone bumps her, and she leans forward, her mouth grazing mine before she puts her hands on my shoulders to steady herself, and I grab her hips in my palms.
The electricity from the simple brush of her lips has me growing hard, and her own desire glows in her eyes like a fire. Hot and flickering.
In this position, we’re eye to eye. Our gazes latched, our breathing heavy. I know I’m treading into dangerous territory here, but I can’t pull away. I can’t stop. I might be playing a game with her, but everything I’m saying is true. I want her. And that want is bordering on need, with every moment I spend with her.
She looks away, and the moment is lost. “Sounds interesting.” She swallows and steps back.
“I think so,” I reply, never taking my eyes from her. We both sip our refills.
“How about you? Do you have a type?” I ask, trying to keep the playful conversation, but she pales. Pain flashes in her eyes before she blinks it away. Of course. How stupid of me. “Tall, dark, and dangerous is a little overrated these days,” I mumble and look away.
We take a breather and observe the party in silence, until the bell chimes for dinner.
“Well, it was nice meeting you…uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.” She looks embarrassed.
“It’s Cohen. Cohen James,” I reply, offering her my hand.
“Wait, how did you know my name?” she questions, eyeing me skeptically.
“The welcome packet,” I explain. “There aren’t many females here solely representing companies as big as PAN Industries. It seems your reputation precedes you.” As soon as the words slip from my mouth, I know they came out wrong. “Wait. That came out wrong. I didn’t—”
Her eyes widen in horror and she throws her drink on me. “Bloody arsehole! You are all after the same thing.” She seethes before setting down her drink and turning away.
Christ that’s cold!
“Scarlett! Wait, please!” I attempt to chase after her, but she’s already taken her place next to old man Anderson at the table. Right across from fucking Alan.
I’m stopped in my tracks, not wanting to cause a scene. Forget it. I turn on my heel and storm from the tent.
At least she should be safe for the duration of dinner. I’m angry as I pull the sticky, dripping fabric away from my body and walk up to my room to rid myself of these drink-soaked clothes.
Angry at myself, not her. For my careless choice of words, for even approaching her. I can’t take it back now. So might as well try to find her and apologize.
Returning to the tent, I quickly sense something is off when I no longer see her. Taking a quick glance around the room lets me know Anderson’s son is also nowhere to be found.
The tent has three exits, so I go out the one’s I didn’t just come through. Rushing outside, I don’t see either of them, so I walk around to the south side before walking up to the main house. When I see she’s not there either, I begin to panic and my skin grows cold. I keep looking for her
If that knob has laid even one finger on her, I’ll rip him apart. I don’t care who his daddy is. Just when I’m circling back near the guest house, I hear a commotion.
I walk around to find him laying on top of her in the grass.
“Don’t you like it rough and dirty?” he says as I run down to where they are. “Sure looked like you did this morning. I saw you and your friend going at it like animals.”
“Get off!” she screams, clawing at his face. His hand is up her dress, and the top is ripped, nearly exposing her, and crushed flowers from her lei are scattered around them.
I. See. Red.
Charging, I grab him by the collar and throw him off her.
“What’s your problem? She’s mine!” Hearing those words fall out of his mouth makes me sick.
“Piece of shit.” I turn around and charge him, my muscles straining in my denim as Iknock us both to the ground, where we roll around, both fighting to get the upper hand. I land on top and give him a good right hook to the face that has his head flying back.
He starts fighting back, after the shock wears off and I try to pin him to the ground. His hands claw at my arms, and he slaps at my face. He fights like a sissy.
He finally closes his fists and tries to throw some punches, but he’s no match for me. He’s drunk, and I run six miles a day.
“This is my party, my family’s estate. I can do whatever I want.” He rolls away from me, holding his jaw, and I let him go.
“Then let’s go find Walter and see what he has to say.” I jump to my feet, swiping my tongue in corner of my mouth, tasting the familiar metallic tinge of blood. Little shit busted my lip.
“So you do know who I am?” he huffs out as
he climbs to his feet. “You’re going to be sorry.”
Ignoring him, I walk to where she lays in the grass curled up in a ball.
“Are you all right?” I gently pull her up. She just looks at me with sad eyes and nods.
“She was good for a rough-and-tumble in the grass with you…a nobody, this morning. But she’s too good for the one putting on this party? She owes me! She’s here because of me, because she’s an easy lay. You know why they call her the closer, right?” he rants, blood dripping from the corner of his eye.
“Who the hell are you anyway?” he asks. As I stand and walk toward him, he cowers back.
“Someone you don’t need to concern yourself with. Touch her again and it’ll be the last thing you do,” I spit out, giving him a warning shove before walking back to collect Scarlett and get her out of here, away from him.
Scooping her up, I head for the guest house, tension coiled like a spring inside me. I want to go back and finish the job. Her hands reach around and hold onto my neck. I focus on her, the feel of her pressed tightly against me, her quiet breathing. I use her touch like a beacon to draw me away from the anger burning in my veins like lava.
#####
Scarlett
There’s something oddly comforting about being pressed against Cohen’s chest. His heart is a steady boom and anger radiates off him. What happened with Alan was just another example of my past catching up with me, tainting my future.
I wish I were a different person this weekend. I wish I could’ve met him under certain different circumstances, that I was someone else in another life…not someone who gave her heart away to someone who didn’t want it. If I were the carefree person who bumped into him this morning and had a heart to risk, I could have a fling with this gorgeous man with hair black as night and eyes bluer than the Mediterranean Sea. That mouthy, flirty woman is a carefully created façade.
I’m not always that confidant, even though I appear to be.
Then again, it’s not like he sweeping me off my feet to carry me to bed. He’s just a decent guy who happened to be in the right place at the wrong time. Just some tech guy here for the business who keeps running into me—literally. Now, my baggage has caught up with us both and he’s hurt and carrying me up to my room, pulled into the drama of my blackened reputation that so obviously precedes me.
I exhale a shaky breath as he moves up the gravel path, only the light of the moon and a few tiki lanterns leading the way. I hold Cohen tighter and focus on this strange beast of a man scooping me up like a damsel in distress. He may be a stranger, but his arms feel familiar. Safe. As for me, I may be in distress…bloody hell, who am I kidding? I live in a constant state of distress. But I’m not some helpless waif of a girl who can’t hold her own. Not anymore.
Cohen carries me as if I weigh nothing and keeps asking me if I’m okay. I don’t even know what that is anymore. I’ve been working ridiculous hours, keeping pace with Piers, trying to prove to us both I’m not the same person. I can use my wits and not just my body to do business. I helped him take over James’ company, hoping it was the last straw in him finally laying the past to rest. Then he got the company and his revenge, Wendy got sick, Willow is back, and I’ve got nothing. It’s like a tsunami washed us out with the past, wave after wave, relentless in its reminding. He’s not mine. Never will be. He was building the company and I was building castles in the sky, thinking I was going to have a future with him. So am I okay? Not even close.
My heart bears the brunt of the damage. The physical pain is nearly numb in comparison to the aching in my chest. I’ll have scratches and marks from being thrown to the ground, but they will fade. It’s the inside scars that never really do. My stomach recoils at the thought of Alan’s hands pulling at my dress, the alcohol on his breath blowing hot on my face. I shake my head, trying to rid the image and keep my emotions in check as we near the stone guest house—something I’m usually very good at. Instead, I focus on the anger.
I’m angry at myself for my decisions—my very bad decisions. I’m angry at Piers for not being here. At my mum for cursing me to be as shallow and broken as she was. The men I dated who showed me my body was a weapon. At Willow for coming back. I’m angry at Alan for being such a little douche. Just…everything.
Even Cohen. I’m angry he’s here, being so gorgeous, chivalrous, and safe. He’s someone I would want if I could. My head rests against his firm shoulder, and I breathe him in. He smells so good, like his own masculine scent and something like the ocean, but darker. He’s someone I could get lost in, if I weren’t already so lost. I let all other thoughts drift away and focus on his heart beating against my side and his magical scent clouding my senses.
Chapter Ten
Cohen
“Which room?” I ask, even though I know exactly where it is. I don’t want to further alarm her.
“Second floor. First door to the right.” She clings to me, and damn if it doesn’t feel good to have her arms wound tightly around my neck...while she’s conscious.
I set her down carefully at the door, and she fishes out her key to unlock it.
We stand at the threshold, and I’m uncertain of what to do. I hate to leave her alone, but I don’t want to be so forward as to push myself into her room and make her even more uncomfortable. I just need to know she’s okay.
I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about this woman that makes me give a damn like I never have before.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I think so,” she replies quietly, still visibly shaken.
“Are you here with anyone? Is there someone I should call?” I ask, knowing there’s not.
“No, it’s fine.”
“A family member? Associate?” I cringe, knowing she really has only her two best friends and a sister who has been missing for years.
“No, really, it’s fine,” she sighs.
“That arsehole should pay for what he tried to do. You need to tell his dad.” I step back to go, still on edge from not being able to finish the job.
“It’s not worth it.” She drops her gaze to the ground. “I just closed a major deal with Walter and I don’t need the bad press or the bad blood with his son.”
I know exactly what she’s talking about, so I bite my tongue.
“And I didn’t close the deal the way you’re probably thinking.”
I take her chin in my hand. “Shhh, Scarlett, I never thought that,” I try to reassure her, but she jerks her chin away.
“My reputation?” she challenges.
“Yes, for the boardroom, so don’t set about putting words in my bloody mouth, lady.” I try to take the bite out of my tone, annoyed she would think I would believe all that.
“Well, I’m used to it. It happens more than I care to admit.” She turns away and attempts to walk into the room before wincing.
“What is it? Are you okay?” I rush to her, putting my hands on her perfect hips to steady her.
“It’s just my ankle,” she replies, and I search her face to find her watching me with an odd look. I’m honestly a little shaken by how calm she is.
“Okay, let’s get you off that foot and have a look.” I lift her back into my arms with ease, close the door with my foot, and carry her into the toilet. Sitting her on the marble counter, my arm skims her chest by accident as I reach past her, fumbling for the light. The quick exhale of her breath against my cheek lets me know she felt it too.
My eyes take a minute adjusting to the light from the antique bulb above us, bathing us in its harsh glow. After blinking a couple times, I follow her gaze to where my palms are flattened on the counter, on either side of her hips. My hands are splattered with blood.
“Are you hurt?” She lifts her sad gaze to mine.
“Please, love. Give me a little credit. The only thing hurt would be my pride if you think a little shit like him could get one in on me.” I attempt to lighten the mood wi
th a bit of arrogance as I drop to my knees on the cold tile in front of her.
“Is that so?” She smiles, and looking up at her, I lose my breath. At this angle, with her white blonde hair illuminated in the light and that glorious smile, it’s like looking up at an angel. I wish it were that simple. I wish she could be my salvation. Lord knows I could get lost in her. Nearly have already and we’re still strangers. Well, I’m a stranger to her.
“All his,” I assure her, lifting my palms up for inspection.
“How about this then?” Scarlett places her soft palm on my rough cheek, letting her thumb swipe across the corner of my mouth. My lips parts in reaction as I watch her study her thumb before holding it up and showing me the blood from my busted lip.
I shrug and a heavy breath falls from my lips. Our eyes remain locked until she blinks, releasing us both from this invisible hold.
Her hand falls to her lap, pale skin a sharp contrast to her black dress. And then there is the red splatter of my blood on her. I hate seeing her skin tainted with my blood. Then again, it makes me feel something it shouldn’t—something I wish I could deny. Seeing her marked both turns me on and fills me with an overwhelming sense of guilt. But it’s something else too. Pride.
I lift her hand to my lips, very slowly, so she knows my intention. Instead of pulling away, she watches me with quiet curiosity. Sliding her thumb into my mouth, I hold it there, relishing the sweet taste of her skin on my tongue as I swirl it around, licking my blood away.
A tiny moan escapes her lips, and I place a gentle kiss on the tip of her thumb before releasing her hand.
One look into her eyes, filled with desire and looking at me like I’m a knight and shining armor instead of the villain I clearly am… I know without a doubt, I would bleed out every. Last. Drop. Protecting her.
She won’t shy away from my touch, but she needs a comforting one, not one intent on pleasuring her. Thoughts of all the ways I could bring her pleasure cloud my senses, and I remind myself what she’s been through tonight.
Never Say Never (Written in the Stars Book 2) Page 8
