Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1)

by Unknown

  My cell phone rings, jerking me out of my fantasy, and Blake’s name flashes across the screen. I beam with excitement. Michael’s expression shows a hint of anxiety.

  “Blake,” I mouth, and the tension over his face releases. “Hi, Blake.”

  “Hey, Ariana, how was your lunch yesterday with Mr. Grayson?”

  “Eventful.” I giggle. “Did you guys make it to the Hamptons in one-piece?”

  “Yes, we did and thanks for letting us crash out here. We all wish you were here.”

  “All thanks go to you. You talked me into making the investment by purchasing the house in the Hamptons. I’m pleased that you did. I’ve always wanted a waterfront.” I laugh.

  I gasp when Michael’s strong hand pulls me hard against his chest, feeling his heat radiate through me after the light turns red at the crosswalk. I was too busy chitchatting with Blake. I would have walked right into oncoming traffic.

  “Ariana, do I foresee another date?” I know he’s smirking on the other end of the phone.

  “Yes, he’s standing right next to me as we speak. He’s like a leach,” I say, laughing.

  Michael gapes at me with a painful, stunned expression on his face and places his hand over his heart to say he’s heartbroken by my comment. How pitiful.

  “As long as he treats you like gold, love, or I’ll kick his sorry ass,” Blake says.

  “Oh, stop. He’s been a real gentleman. We’ve had a bit of excitement in the past twenty-four hours. I’ll fill you in later,” I mutter, and my thoughts drift to the insane person distressing me. How will I explain this to Blake and Joanne?

  “What’s wrong, Ariana?” Blake’s soft tone vibrates through the phone. His concern for me touches me with adoration. He always had a gift for picking up on my distress. I am ever so grateful he stepped into my life. He and Joanne have been the rocks I lean on, the support group I gather with when I need to cry on their shoulder. I worked so hard to regain my self-esteem and confidence back, and I owe it all to them.

  Danny’s favorite pastime was to belittle me, make me feel like a worthless piece of shit as he called me so many times. I’m rather proud of myself. It took a lot of courage to walk out on him. I’m just lucky he didn’t kill me after I presented him with the divorce papers and the order of protection.

  “Ariana . . . earth calling Ariana. Are you still with me?” Blake calls out.

  “Oh, yes, I’m fine. How was polo?”

  “You missed an exciting match, but I took pictures for you.”

  “I’ll watch tomorrow’s game at Bethpage.” Michael takes a hold of my hand as we cross another busy street. My heart begins to race as Michael’s fingers brush over my knuckles, making me all warm and gooey inside. I take a quick glance at him, and from the expression on Mr. Bulldozer’s face; I would say he objects to my trip to the polo field tomorrow.

  “Sounds terrific, enjoy the game and I look forward to meeting Mr. Grayson.”

  “I will. I love you and see you tomorrow night.” I disconnect the call and gaze up at Michael, squinting my eyes against the bright sun. He’s glaring at me with smoke steaming from his nose like a bull.

  “What?” I ask, surprise at my tone.

  “Are you insane, Ariana? What makes you think you’re driving out there on your own? There is no way I’m allowing such craziness,” he says with wide-eyes, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, seething with anxiety as he tries to keep his cool in public.

  Ahhh! God! I could punch him in the face. I grab his hand and rush him to a more private place to have a word with him. I find a little alcove near a storefront and push him hard against the wall. Damn him and his solidness. With my back straight, I poke him in the chest, which hurts my finger. I can’t win with this piece of steel. I glare at him, feeling the heat rise to my face.

  “Me, that’s who, how dare you dictate to me,” I scold him, seething with anger. He stares back with an unresponsive expression on his face, and I want to slap him.

  He lifts his hands up, gesturing for me to relax, and places a finger over my lips, and I’m so tempted to take a bite.

  “I ran my mouth off without thinking. This seems to be a bad habit of mine whenever I’m around you. Please accept my apologies. What I should have said was I happen to love polo and would love to accompany you. We’ll pack a picnic basket fit for a feast for the Gods and enjoy the game.” He beams from ear to ear and releases a small chuckle dousing the flames that were burning inside me. To seal the deal, he leans down and kisses me with his soft, tender lips. Now, how can I be upset with him when he gives me the most heart-stopping, intoxicating kiss I’ve ever had? Ahhh!

  “Well . . . since you made it so enticing would you like to join me.” I ask batting my lashes.

  “Absolutely, now lets go eat.” He takes my hand in his, and I follow. We stop in front of the Mandarin Hotel.

  “How about we have lunch at the Lobby Lounge?” He asks, his watchful eye gazing over the vicinity for anyone suspicious.

  “Sure, sounds perfect.”

  We walk in and take the elevator up, arriving at the top floor. We step out into walls of glass. This is the most prominent feature in the restaurant. It overlooks the captivating view of Central Park and the Manhattan skyline. The room is contemporary with a touch of Oriental decor.

  A host greets us, and we’re escorted to a table closest to the window. He places an order for two glasses of red wine.

  “So, Michael, I hear you and your partner’s next project is in Hong Kong,” I take a sip of my water as his eyes light up with a smile.

  He takes a long drink of his water. He places his glass down, and his black, silky hair falls over his right eye, giving him even sexier than thou look. He brushes it back with his fingers and a brilliant grin radiates across his beautiful face.

  “Yes, Ariana,” he says, taking my hand and goose bumps surface over my sensitive flesh as he traces my palm.

  “How is the progress?” I ask as my breath continues to hitch from every stroke of his fingers.

  “It’s coming along rather well. Mark and I scheduled two more meetings to finalize the plans and hope to break ground in three weeks.” He smiles, cocking his head to the side.

  “Wow, that’s fantastic. I’m sure you plan to be there for the groundbreaking,” I remark.

  “Yes, Mark and I are heading to Hong Kong once we establish a date.” He begins to massage the inside of my palm sending a shiver up my spine. I gasp, and I jerk my hand back.

  “Ariana, why do you pull away whenever I touch you?” He frowns with a curious and troubled glare.

  “Not always.” I blush, thinking of our kiss.

  His eyes focus on mine. An erotic smile surfaces across his face teasing me. “No, not always,” he says, reaching for my hand again, this time with a tighter grip. He shakes his head.

  “Don’t, Ariana, I’d like to get more acquainted with you. You’re a hypnotic woman. Full of mystery and I love mysteries.”

  I smile, wondering if he’ll ever uncover that mystery he sees in me.

  The waitress arrives with two glasses of wine and takes our order, but before she rushes off, she requests an autograph, which I am more than happy to do.

  “Are you often approached?” Michael asks.

  “Yes, and I don’t mind. They,” I gesture toward the public, “keep our ratings up.”

  He smiles. “Well, I’m hoping for more than just your autograph Miss DiMarco, he says with a mischievous smile and kisses my hand again, leaving my poor heart in shambles.

  “Michael . . . about the kiss, we shared earlier . . . um . . . It was incredible. I won’t lie. The problem is I’m not interested in getting involved in a relationship,” I blurt out. “My boss is well aware of that fact, and yet I was shocked when he set us up.” Whom am I kidding you know you want him. He’s like a Godiva chocolate, one taste and you want to eat the whole damn five-pound box.

  He shakes his head and chuckles. “I’m not proposing marriage
here, Ariana, dinner now and then . . . and sex. You can’t tell me you weren’t close to wanting it as badly as I,” he says, and I melt into a puddle of water, as his bedroom eyes grow darker, and my heart pounds hard against my chest, causing the blood in my veins to heat and the butterflies in my stomach to dance. I clear my throat.

  “We can share a few dinners, but no more.” For a moment, I lose myself in his eyes, wondering what it would be like to make love with this man. Heat begins to slither over my neck and face making my skin flush. Embarrassment takes place when the expression on his face reveals he knows what was fluttering around in my head and gives me a wicked smile.

  “And sex, Ariana,” he says, his mouth slightly open.

  I swallow hard as the blood rushes like flames through my veins and I shake my head. I look away, and stare out the windows, avoiding eye contact. My heart yells out, ‘you fool’ and gives me a swift kick in the ribs. Ouch!

  “Don’t avoid this, Ariana.” He takes hold of my chin and gently nudges me to face him. He smiles and cocks his eyebrow up.

  I don’t know what to say. I’m left breathless.

  “You will, Ariana. You’ll be dancing under the sheets with me one night. I’ll be exploring every inch of your body. I promise you this,” he says sounding self-assured as his eyes begin to glimmer with desire, causing me to turn into a bowl of pudding.

  Damn him and his egotistical attitude. I fidget in my chair as moisture begins to pool between my legs.

  “No. You. Won’t,” I bite back. How much more conceited can this man get?

  “Tell me about your ex-husband?” He squints.

  Wow! That came out of left field. I glance out the corner of my eye as the sun begins to set over the skyline, leaving behind a beautiful afterglow.

  “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “It didn’t work out, he’s dead anyway. They found his car in a lake with him submerged in it. But you already knew about Danny.”

  “Yes, sorry to hear that,” he says, trying to console me.

  “Don’t be, he was no prize. What about you? I know you never married.”

  “No, I never married.” His eyes turn to glass and seem distant.

  “Have you been engaged or had a long-term relationship?”

  “What have you read about me, Ariana?” He questions with an impassive expression over his face, avoiding my question. Oookay, that seems to be a touchy subject. Next.

  “You’ve been voted one of the top ten wealthiest bachelors in America,” I say, waving my hand.

  “Really? I had no clue,” he says sarcastically, flashing his pearly whites at me. He picks up his glass of wine and takes a long sip, savoring the flavor.

  “Don’t patronize me, wise guy,” I retort, and he snickers at me. “How did you and your partner meet?” His face beams with brilliance.

  “Mark Anderson, my mentor, best friend, and now partner, had an internship program and offered me the position. When Mark noticed my potential, determination, and drive, he hired me within a week.

  “So, if you started off on construction, what enticed you to become an architect?” I question. I steal several glances at his hands, admiring their size and strength and how they feel when he touches me, making my heart race.

  “I always had a desire to be an architect. I worked my way through college at the construction sites while studying. When it came to building, Mark taught me everything I know. After I had graduated, we partnered, creating one of the largest architectural and construction companies in the world.” That’s why I ended up staying longer in England. His main office is in London. I moved here four years ago to open an office in New York.

  “Not bad for someone at thirty-three. I can’t wait to see the new condo you both created here in Manhattan.”

  “It will be an honor to give you a tour.” He raises his wineglass, and I raise mine, and we clink our glasses together. “To us,” he says.

  Two wonton noodle soups and another two glasses of wine arrive. We eat, laugh, and talk about the small stuff—our favorite movies, books, and places we’ve traveled to around the world. This is the first time; aside from Blake I am comfortable with a man. We leave the Lobby and head back to my place.

  We chat as we walk. He insists he stay with me until Mrs. O’Conner arrives that evening. Men must have a built-in mechanism to be protective. Unfortunately, the man sucks all the energy out of me, and I’m not in the mood to argue. Besides, I enjoy spending time with Michael when he isn’t bossing me around, which, come to think of it, is pretty often.

  All the excitement from yesterday finally catches up to me, my crazy fan with his numerous phone calls, the e-mails, and him getting into my apartment. Where the hell was security? And then . . . there’s Michael, an overconfident, domineering, do-as-I-say man, who swept into my life like a category five tornado, jerking the reins from me and taking over. Oh, and let’s not forget how he electrified and captured my heart, making me a prisoner of love.

  We stop at an intersection, and Michael turns toward me, tugging my chin up with a gentle caress, his eyes filled with concern and all my most personal body parts come to life. “You look exhausted, Ariana.”

  “Yes,” I softly say, admitting to the fatigue that weighs over me. I glance at the time; shocked it is a few minutes past seven. “Oh, goodness, I had no idea how long we’d stayed at the restaurant.” I chuckle. “I’m sure they wanted to toss us out on our butts.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. I left her a generous tip. I’m sure it made up for the next three or four servings they would have had at our table.”

  Chapter 8

  The Desolate Doorway

  The elevator doors open to my apartment, and we head towards the kitchen. We find a letter perched up on the counter. “This is from your brother,” I say.

  Michael takes the note and reads it aloud.

  Hey, guys,

  We did a complete sweep over the place and pulled off fingerprints. We went over everything with a fine-tooth comb and found two bugs, one in the kitchen phone and the other in Ariana’s bedroom under her lamp. I checked the laptop. He covers his tracks well.

  I spoke with security downstairs. During the time, Ariana was away; there was no unusual activity in or out of her apartment.

  I did get a view of the person who left her the box of chocolates. He’s tall with a husky built, wearing a long coat with a hood over his head. I asked the doorman, and he swore no one entered the building fitting that description.

  I set her phone to trace and record all incoming calls. That about covers it. I’ll catch you later, bro. I’m off to my apartment and after. . . you get my drift. : )

  Ariana, until we meet again.

  Yours truly,

  Trent

  My mouth falls open stunned at what I heard. Holy shit, that bastard, he bugged my apartment. My skin grows cold as the blood drains from my face. I stare at Michael with paralyzing fear.

  “Ariana . . . . Sweetheart, come on, let’s sit you down.” He takes me by the elbow and sits me on the sofa. “Everything is going to be fine. I guarantee it. I’m confident Trent is working around the clock to catch this asshole. He removed the bugs from the apartment. If the ass phones again, Trent can trace the call.”

  I raise my head and stare at him with a questioning look. “Why are you doing this for me? You don’t even know me,” I whisper, and I’m at a loss. This man coerces his way into my life, all heroic, ready to save me. Why? “Is this how you are to all women, always saving a damsel in distress?”

  He stares at me, eyes wide open surprised at my query. He turns from me, frowning, and then his head snaps back to face me. “Why would you ask such a question? What respectable human being would walk away from you when a demented fuck is stalking you?” He pauses, fisting his hands, brows furrowing.

  He lets out a long breath and kneels down beside me. He takes hold of my hand. “Ariana, you’re not in this alone. We’ll find this prick.” He moves
closer, and captures my mouth in his; he pulls away leaving me breathless and my lips tingling.

  “Ariana, I know you’re holding on to some painful memories. I see it in your eyes, your soul and for the life of me don’t ask me how I know, I just do. Why don’t you open up to me, please? You can trust me.”

  My stomach begins to bubble like carbonated water, and my heart screams, “Tell him; you fool.”

  I’ve told myself never to trust another man. Then out of the blue, Michael comes riding up on his horse with a sword in hand ready to save me. In the little time that I’ve known him, this is what I’ve learned. He’s the strong, but silent type, self-driven, successful and knows how to dress. He’s a real charmer, and very controlling and protective, and I use that term lightly, with a big heart. To put it all in three words, a true gentleman, but so was Danny.

  “I’m tired, Michael, I . . . I need to get to bed.” Way to go Ariana, nothing like dodging the ball.

  “Of course, I’m relieved you haven’t experienced any symptom’s Josh asked you to be aware of.”

  A guilty smile crosses over my face. I did experience a little dizziness on and off during the day, and I had a slight headache earlier, but I was fine after lunch.

  “Ariana.” A frigid chill hits the air from the way he calls out my name, and the disapproval in his eyes. “Have you or have you not experienced any of the symptom’s Josh warned you about?” He questions me with a look of disappointment.

  “Vision was excellent, no blurriness, just a bit dizzy now and then,” I reply honestly, and I brace myself for the loaded freight train ready to blow. He stands up, handsome and charismatic trying to restrain himself. “Ariana, my God, why didn’t you tell me?” He anxiously brushes his fingers through his hair.

  “Why?” I ask, playing dumb.

  He exhales a breath, blowing off steam. “You are one of the most infuriating, bullheaded women I’ve ever dealt with.” The smile is gone, replaced with a discontented expression. “You’re a damn good performer,” he exclaims, waving his hands in the air.