“Scarlett, there is something you should know.” She looks at me expectantly. “Alan Anderson was arrested last week.” Her hand flies up to cover her mouth. “He had been making advances at a woman in the office, but she wouldn’t come forward, afraid for her job. Then one night he attempted to take things too far when he bumped into her leaving the same club. There were witnesses. She pressed charges and others came forward.” She stares at me in shock, so I continue.
“Turns out, he was even blackmailing a couple women who he’d had similar run-ins with, but no one had proof. Until some deleted emails from his account resurfaced and were sent to the detective handing the case. He’s locked up now. Do you understand what I’m saying? He can’t hurt you again.” My blood boils as I recall his hands on Scarlett and his nails marring her perfect creamy skin. He had to pay.
“I…Cohen, I don’t know what to say.” Relief flutters across her face, then her expression falls. “I should have come forward sooner. I could have prevented this.”
“Shhh. That’s not why I told you. I didn’t want you to be scared. And all the other incidents were before.”
“Wait, how do you know all this?” she questions me, before realization dawns in her eyes. “The emails. Computers. It—it was you?”
“You can’t tell anyone, but yes. He needed to pay for what he did to you, all of you. I knew you didn’t want to be involved because of the merger. I knew a rat like him would have a few skeletons, and I knew where to look. When he was arrested, I had already been digging.”
“How long?” she asks.
“Since that night.” My jaw clenches, and I look away.
“The merger! The press will have a field day with this.” Her voice raises an octave.
“Old man Anderson has handled it all, although I’m surprised he didn’t at least mention it so you could be prepared should there be a leak. But it seems he’s called in a lot of favors to keep it out of the press. He’s leaving him locked up, letting him pay for his sins,” I explain, and she takes it all in.
“I’m adding vigilante to your resume,” she jokes awkwardly. “But thank you. For what you did, for telling me.”
I’m glad to finally have it out in the open. The first of many things…
“You need to stop thanking me,” I tell her as we resume walking.
“Then stop saving me,” she whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear, but her words echo in my mind. I wish I were the man she keeps thanking, but he’s only part of me.
We walk in a comfortable silence, down the wet pavement, our fingertips brushing ever so often. I have the urge to grab her hand in mine, but I fight it like my life depends on it. I’m not really the handholding, bouquet bringing kind of guy. Throwing her against the wall for a kiss, or maybe a quick moment of pleasure is usually my style. That’s all I’ve ever known. She deserves more.
I can’t give her hearts and flowers. I close my hand into a fist so I don’t grab hold, sure I won’t want to let go. I’m angry we didn’t meet under normal circumstances, where she wasn’t in the crosshairs of my revenge.
Thunder booms overhead before the sky opens and unleashes on the city. We take off in a sprint, and she takes my hand in an attempt to steady herself. My fingers lock tightly around hers as we try to outrun the fat, wet drops pelting us. Just as I thought, it fits perfectly in mine. She stops in front of her office and pulls me under a large black awning.
The force of stopping so fast has me crashing into her. Wet clothes cling to our bodies, a sorry excuse for a barrier as she is sandwiched between me and the stone wall that houses PAN Industries. She looks up at me, blinking away the rainwater dripping from my hair as I lean my head down and wrap my hands around her hips. My fingers curl into the soaked fabric.
We’re frozen in place as the rain continues to fall in a curtain just beyond the awning. I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, about to fall off the edge and take her mouth with mine, when the building door burst open and a security guard steps out.
“Miss Scarlett? Are you all right? Do you need me to call a car?” His voice booms, startling us both, and we jump apart.
She smiles at me like a teenage girl caught with a boy after curfew before turning to the guard. “Thanks, Howard. I have my car tonight. Just waiting on the rain to let up.”
“Do you need an umbrella?” He asks, looking between us.
“No thank you. It seems the damage is done. Have a good night,” she politely dismisses him.
“You too, ma’am.” He heads back inside.
We look at each other and start laughing. It feels so good. It’s been so long since I have felt this carefree. As our laughter dries up, so does the rain, so I walk her to her car.
As she’s about to climb in, she stops. “How will you get home?”
“I have a car coming to take me to my hotel,” I explain.
“Hotel?” She sounds disappointed. “You weren’t kidding about not being from here?”
“I don’t live here, no. But I’ll be in town a while.” I smile, telling her another half-truth, I was born here, but it’s not my home. Not yet.
“Well…uh…the Gala I mentioned is Saturday, if you would like, I could put you on the guest list? Black-tie, a masked ball at this place called Underglobe. I’ll probably be working a lot, but maybe we can grab a drink? If you’re going to be in town, I mean, and don’t have plans.”
I’m glad to see she seems equally as flustered by me.
After all the time watching her, the idea of getting to be with her, more than just accidentally bumping into her, has me way more excited than I should be. It is a bit risky to show up with Piers, but she mentioned a mask.
“Underglobe. Saturday evening?” I ask, and she nods. “Black-tie and mask. I really will try.”
She eyes me skeptically.
“How about we exchange numbers so you can send me the address?” I pull out my mobile, swiping the screen to life, and my stomach drops when I see fifteen missed calls and one text message.
Tick-Tock. There she goes again, reminding me of what I’m really here for.
“Is everything alright?” Scarlett questions.
“Yeah, sorry. Work issues. I’m ready.” She rattles off her number, and I call it.
“So the number was real?” I tease as her mobile vibrates in her lap.
“Of course.” She feigns shock.
“Now you can save me in your phone.” I wink at her. “Goodnight, Scarlett. Until next time.”
“Goodnight, Cohen. Until Saturday.” I close her door and step back as it purrs to life.
One night can’t hurt. I’ll allow myself this last night with her. At the Gala, where I can put on a mask and be the man she needs me to be, if only for a night.
Chapter Fifteen
Scarlet
Today has been a flurry of excitement and nerves. The gala is finally here. I’ve been unusually happy the past couple days, and I can’t help but think it’s because of my run-in with Cohen.
Everything seems so easy with him. Conversation. Laughter. Even the truth. I invited him to the gala on a whim, and although he wasn’t sure if he could make it, I secretly hope he can.
Knowing Piers would be in, I worked from home Thursday, trying to respect him and give him some space. Give me some space.
I did see him Friday, when he stopped by Underglobe, where I was working with the venue to finalize all the last minute details for the event. He was picking up Willow’s mask—a mask I asked Harrods to deliver as a favor to him.
While doing a walk though, we were never alone and spoke only business. I was much too occupied checking every twinkling light and inspecting each place setting as we sat up well into the night. Turning the Shakespearean exhibit into a magical garden paradise, complete with fairies, was not an easy task, but one well worth it. After one last walk through this morning before leaving it in very capable hands, it’s going to be an enchanting evening.
Now, to transform myself into
a belle fit for a ball. Or a princess fit for a dark prince. Maybe even a sexy pirate. I bite back a smile on the ride home, thinking of Cohen.
I find myself doing that a lot lately. Something about him almost makes me believe I could have a happy ending.
Once upon a time, I dreamed I could be a fairy princess, rescued from my tower by a handsome prince. But my tower was a dingy closet and my prince never came.
I learned to save myself…then there was Piers—the closest thing to a prince I ever had, my best friend and first crush, the reason I’ve held on to this crazy ideal that we were meant for each other. I try not to think too much about what is becoming crystal clear to me after all this time. Like Wendy used to say, think happy thoughts.
This week started out so dark, but the clouds have parted, and I hold my breath on the ray of sunlight that has carried me through the past forty-eight hours. I just hope it can carry my through tonight.
#####
Showered, shaved, and moisturized, I feel refreshed. My skin has a slight shimmer to it from the cream I used and the smell of coconut fills the room.
Before slipping into my dress, I blow out my long blonde locks. I should have scheduled a salon blow out, but I already had a nail appointment to polish me up a deep, seductive shade of red. There was no time for the simple luxury of both hair and nails.
Looks like I’ll be playing hair stylist and makeup artist tonight.
The gentle hum of the dryer and warm air is relaxing as I work the locks into smooth curls. My mind wanders, as it does so often these days. I think about a time when my snowy blonde hair was the only thing I had to be proud of—the only thing my mum liked about me.
The smell of smoke invades my nostrils, and I’m transported back in time. My reflection in the mirror fades from one of me drying my long hair, to one of me crying and rubbing my head in shock.
This particular night, Mum was being nice, letting me try on her lipstick while she brushed my hair over and over. My scalp ached from her tugging, but I didn’t complain. I was just glad she was paying attention to me. Tonight was the first night she let me play dress up again. Since last time, when the black got on my face.
I looked pretty, and it made mummy very happy. But not Jasmine. She came home and was so angry. Mum started drinking. They started fighting. Yelling. Screaming. Crying.
I hid in the bathroom, looking at myself in the dirty, cracked mirror. Golden hair, like a princess, fell past my shoulders. My lips as red as the double-decker buses that zoom around town. I tried to escape, drown out the yelling and glass shattering by imagining I was riding on one of those buses.
Jazz found me. “I’m sorry,” she whispered before she held me down in the bathroom. I sobbed while she took rusty scissors to my hair, leaving my long golden locks scattered all over the dirty tile. Our mum beating on the other side of the door, her words slurring as she screamed at my older sister to leave me alone.
“I won’t let you ruin her like you ruined me,” Jazz kept crying.
Clip. Yell.
Snip. Sob.
When mom finally busted through the door, the damage was done, but she crawled on her hands and knees, picking up the locks, crying hysterically. All my pretty hair was gone. All that remained was patches and white fuzz.
I rubbed my hair in disbelief before running to hide in my room, under an old iron bed that held a dirty mattress while mum passed out on the toilet floor, covered in tears and hair. I’m not her special girl anymore.
I was so angry with Jazz. How could she do that to me? My little heart shattered at her betrayal. Hot tears washed down my face, but it didn’t matter. There wasn’t any black on my cheeks and there never would be. Mum will never let me play dress up again.
“I’m sorry, Scarlett.” She walked in and knelt beside the bed. I scooted closer to the wall, hurt and angry.
“I’m only trying to protect you. If she’s ashamed, she won’t take you out. She won’t show you to them. This only buys you time.” She sighed with a heaviness I didn’t understand. Sliding down the wall with a thud, she sat next to the bed. “It’ll grow back. And she’s too stupid to realize most of them don’t care about your hair, or even your face.”
I get scared when I hear the fear in her voice. I don’t know what she’s talking about, but my sobs turned to whimpers as she continued.
“I’m working on a solution, something more permanent. You know what that means, right?” She slid her hand under the bed, and I took hold of it. “It means forever. You’ll be safe forever.”
Her hand squeezed mine tighter. I wanted to be safe forever.
When I woke up, I was still under the bed. There was a fluffy blanket pushed around me, but my hand was empty. So was my heart.
Regret churns in my gut as the memory fades. I never even spoke to Jazz again, then she took off, and we never saw her again. She tried to save me, but at eight years old, I didn’t understand the monsters don’t just live under your bed and in your closet. They come over and sit at your table. They buy your mother perfume and bring candy. Before I could fully understand just what the monsters were capable of, a woman with a clipboard was knocking on the door, asking my mum lots of questions.
Questions she didn’t like. I heard Jazz’s name, and I ran into the room from the special hiding spot I went to anytime someone knocked. It had been weeks since she left. I didn’t understand the concept of time, but my hair was now short and spikey, like a pixie.
“Who is this boy?” she questioned my mother. “Where’s the girl?” I looked down at my faded romper and denim.
“I’m no boy.” I lifted my chin in defiance. “I’m Scarlett.”
“She’s here,” the lady called out. My mum started yelling and saying bad words.
The rest is a blur. The Coppers came and took me away in a real police car.
Next thing I knew, we’re pulling up to Everlend Estate and the rest is history.
My skin burns as I realize my hair is now dry and I’ve been holding the dryer in the same place for who knows how long. Shutting it off, I toss it down into a basket, followed by my round brush.
Bracing my hands on either side of the counter, I fight the wave of nausea that sweeps over me before rushing to the toilet to wretch up the contents of my stomach. It’s like my body is trying to purge itself of the awful memory. When I’m certain I’m finished, I brush my teeth and rinse out my mouth with a handful of cold water before dabbing a cool cloth to my flushed face. I wipe away the tears and memory of shame. Thankfully, my makeup isn’t done yet.
Deep, even breaths help me center as I let the smell of coconut erase the stench of smoke. Going back to my room, a quick glance at the clock lets ne know that I need to move it along. Teddy will be here anytime.
Putting on my favorite playlist, I crank the music loud enough to drown out my emotions. The day started out so lovely, but now I’m drowning in melancholy thoughts, so I let the songs wash over me and chase away the ghosts.
I try not to think too much as I put on my makeup. The familiar routine of the blenders and brushes on my skin is soothing. I choose a deep lipstick to match my nails. Glancing at the bottom, I see it’s called Poison Apple. How fitting.
I roll my eyes at my bizarre luck, careful not to mess up my mascara. I seriously never noticed the name of the lipstick before, and it just happened to be the one that paired well with my polish. It would seem fate is playing a bit of a joke on me. That or the girl at the beauty counter.
Before I dress, I grab a large glass of wine to drink while I get ready, needing something to take the edge off. When the smooth taste of the white wine is sliding across my tongue, my nerves start to settle a bit. The buttery richness with hints of citrus is just what I need.
Reaching on my vanity, I grab a black glass bottle and spray my neck and shoulders with Tom Ford Black Orchid. I then take extra care to press some on the backs of my wrists, inside my elbow, and behind my ears. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, enjoying the a
lluring scent of floral and dark spice. My favorite perfume.
If sin were an enchanting scent, it would smell like this, I’m certain of it.
Dressed in black lace undergarments, I decide to wear stockings rather than my normal bare legs. The Queen would approve, but maybe not the garters. I smile to myself as I slowly roll on the silky black nylons. Up one leg, over the knee, and fastening it to my garter belt, before repeating the process. My feet slide into black beaded heels, then step into my body-hugging gown as there’s a knock at the door. Perfect timing.
Answering the door, I see it is in fact Teddy.
I smile as I greet him and step back into the flat. “Looking very dashing in your tux, Teddy Bear.”
“You look beautiful, Scarlett,” he compliments as I stand in front of him holding my hands over my heavily beaded bodice to keep it in place. He follows me in before shutting the door behind himself.
“Care to zip me up?” I ask, turning my exposed back to him and pointing.
He clears his throat.
“Come on. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” I poke fun at him. “One of the boys, remember?”
“Sure thing, Scarlett,” he sighs, stepping forward and quickly zipping me up. “Can’t you ever be ready on time?” I know he’s only teasing.
“Where is the fun in that?” I retort.
“Well, you certainly don’t look like one of the boys tonight.” He smiles at me, resting his hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. “You should be very proud.” My heart swells at his compliment.
“Thanks, Teddy.” I return his smile. “Same to you.” I struggle not to get emotional.
“Not about looking beautiful, about what you’ve become. Who you’ve become. I’m proud to stand by your side tonight.” He gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze before dropping his hands.
“Damn you, Theodore Stone! If you make this mascara run, I’ll sock you good!” I dab at my eyes and turn to grab a tissue.
After I’m certain the tears won’t fall, I throw myself at him for a hug. “Thanks. For not giving up on me, for not leaving me.” My emotions are all over the place tonight.
Never Say Never (Written in the Stars Book 2) Page 13
