I feel a cold sliver as Miles wraps his arms around me and pulls me into an embrace. He leans in, pressing a sloppy kiss against my lips, and I recoil in disgust. Suddenly, I realize that the man I used to love, my college sweetheart and the handsome young actor with brown locks, has been replaced by a less than pleasant version. He’s a sloppy version of his former self. What did I see in him? Why was I so in love with the idea of us?
“Let’s go in the bedroom and rekindle what we had, Becca.”
I roll my eyes at the cheesy words that sound like a one-liner from one of his TV shows. “You’re an idiot.”
“You’re such a bitch now. You let New York change you. Your mother said you worked at some big publishing company, but I bet she doesn’t know that you whored your way to the top.”
His words send a violent flood of anger through me. I pull out of his grasp, but he grabs my wrist and drags me back into him so that my bottom is pressed against his pelvis. My father once taught me that if a man attacked me from behind, the best thing to do is jam my heels in between his toes and then aim my elbow toward the groin.
“If you don’t get the fuck out of my apartment now, I’m going to break your face,” I say, pushing back.
“Oh really?” he says, laughing at me. The feeling of his hand slithering down my hips is the last straw. He shrieks in pain as my heel connects with his foot and my elbow hits him right in groin. The feeling that pulses through me can only be described at pure elation. That and adrenaline. Miles immediately hunches over as he clutches himself and whimpers in pain.
“Oh, my god, Becca. Are you all right?”
Carol runs over to me, throwing her hands around my shoulders as the police officer finishes up his notes on my statement. She nearly tosses the bag of groceries on top of him, but he steps back just in time to avoid getting hit in the face.
“I saw the police car outside the building. I thought something horrible happened.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t be seeing my story on Law and Order: SVU.”
“Did he hurt you?” she asks.
“Minor bruises, but I’m okay.”
I knew hitting Miles in the balls wouldn’t be the end of his harassment. Lucky for me, it seems he had already racked up some complaints from women who lived in the same building where he was crashing. I wasn’t the first woman he’d harassed tonight, but I am glad I’m the last.
“Did they already cart that asshole away?” I get the feeling that if I hadn’t have finished the job, Carol would’ve been more than happy to kick his ass.
“Yeah, he’s being booked as we speak.”
“That probably won’t be a pretty headline in the papers. I would hate to be his publicist.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Tomorrow I should probably file a restraining order.”
“Do you want me to get you something?” Carol says, rubbing my shoulder. “You seem really tense.”
“I’m okay, I’m just exhausted.”
“I could call Nicholas if you want.” I smile at Carol’s attempt to make me feel better. If there is anyone I want to see, it would be him, but after seeing the newspaper clipping of him and Alison kissing, I think it’s better to maintain my distance. Maybe once they're married it will be easier to let go of Nicholas and focus on moving forward in my career.
It’s New Year’s Eve and the city is overrun with tourists. When Carol calls asking if I can drive Rebecca to the opening of Trinity, I jump at the chance to have a moment alone with her again. Over the past week I haven’t stopped thinking about her. I know that I'm going to ask Rebecca to marry me, but I’m not sure that any time before the gala would feel right. I don’t want to rush asking her if my attention is needed on the upcoming gala.
With the offices closed for the holidays, I haven't been able to see Rebecca, making my anxiety about the situation that much worse. I could’ve followed through with my threat to have her work through the holiday with me, but I realized it’s probably not a good start if I’m trying to fix things with her.
I'm eager to tell Rebecca how I feel, but I'm also dreading the possibility that with one word she can either shatter my world, or make it complete. I’ve thought about how I’m going to ask her and what I’m going to say, but it seems any words that I come up with pale in comparison to how I really feel about her.
I sit anxiously in my car outside of her apartment building, waiting for her to step out. Every minute that passes feels like an eternity as my heart thunders against my ribcage in anticipation of just being near her again. Just when I think I'm mentally prepared to see her again, the sight of her, in a dark green dress, her hair in cascades of majestic curls, knocks the wind out of me. How am I ever going to get through tonight?
I step out of my apartment building to find Nicholas waiting for me. My body hums as I take in the rich sight of his coat and dark blue suit fitted against his tall, muscular frame. He leans against the top of his sleek, red Ferrari like he’s posing for some millionaire's sports magazine. His hair looks wet and combed back like he just stepped out of the shower. Images of his naked torso flash through my mind and heat my blood. I have no idea who tailors his clothes, but they certainly know what they're doing.
Carol said she was sending Steven to pick me up to take me to the gallery opening, but he’s more than fifteen minutes late. Something tells me she may have been lying about who was going to pick me up.
Nicholas looks up from his phone and a slow smile spreads across his face as he spots me. He slips his black driving gloves in his pocket and walks toward me. My nipples prickle at the way his eyes wash over me. I'm wearing my dark green swing dress and a shawl but he makes it seem like I'm standing in nothing but my bra and panties.
"You look beautiful," he says, offering his arm as I step down the stairs in front. Despite my best attempt to not go weak at the knees by his mere presence, I fail miserably, almost toppling over.
"Careful," he says as he steadies me before I fall face first onto the sidewalk. The presence of his fingers around my waist only makes my thought process even fuzzier.
"Thank you. What are you doing here?”
“Carol said you needed a ride and she had already given her driver the night off, so I offered to pick you up.” That makes perfect sense. No one wants to spend his or her night driving someone around, at least not on New Year’s Eve.
“Shall we go?” he asks, gesturing to his car.
“Sure.”
Up close the red Ferrari is a magnificent specimen of machinery. I've never actually seen a Ferrari this close up. Usually they were whipping past me on the 101 freeway when I lived in Los Angeles. I know from overhearing Miles talk about cars, that just to buy one is over two hundred grand. I can only imagine how much it costs to maintain a car like this.
"Is this new?" I ask.
Nicholas smiles. "It was a gift…Come on, I’ll let you drive." He walks over to the car and opens the driver's side. My breath catches as it lifts open like a butterfly wing. I peer through the open door to the inside. It's covered in beautiful tan Italian leather.
“I cant," I say.
“You don’t know how to drive stick shift?”
I smile at his question. Having a truck driver for a dad has its perks and learning how to drive stick shift is one of them. In fact, growing up it was one of his requirements when came to learning how to drive.
“Oh, no I do. I just can’t drive this. What if something happens to it?”
I've never driven anything so expensive. I don't even want to know how much it would take to repair if I accidentally bumped it or scratched the paint. I'm sure Nicholas could afford to buy several more of these cars, but I rather not be the reason he has to.
“Are you always such a good girl?” Nicholas teases. I find myself laughing at the mischief behind his eyes. He quirks an eyebrow at me, as if daring me to say yes.
Yes. “No.”
“Get in."
I roll my eyes at his commanding tone as he e
xtends his hand and helps me into the car. The first thing that hits me is the smell of leather and the lingering scent of his cologne. An image of riding Nicholas flashes in my mind. I shift in my seat, squeezing my knees together as I will the image away. He slides in the seat beside me and suddenly the car seems way too small. The seats recline back, giving the illusion of being in a space ship. I can't help but feel a little claustrophobic as the doors close shut.
"Rebecca? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," I murmur.
"You're gripping the steering wheel like it's going to fly off, and your eyes are closed."
"I'll be okay. Give me a minute." I inhale and exhale slowly, willing my nerves to calm. A delicious warmth spreads over my knee as Nicholas’s hand squeezes it. I open my eyes and my heart flip-flops at the closeness of his mouth to mine. He leans forward as if to kiss me, and for a moment, I freeze. I stare into two mesmerizing blue eyes. His gaze never strays from mine as his hand slides over to the steering wheel. I hear keys jingling in the background, and the sound of the car starting. It's a faint zooming sound.
I look forward and try my best to steady my breathing. Nicholas leans back into his seat, but he doesn't take his eyes off of me.
"Cold?" he asks, half smiling. Well played, Nick. I exhale, trying my best not to pay attention to the tingling sensation progressing up from my knee. Is he testing my boundaries on purpose? I shiver as he slides his hand down my shoulder. Focus, Rebecca. If you crash this car, Nicholas will probably never forgive you.
"I'm fine."
"Good, I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."
"Does your car have a name?" I ask, quickly changing the subject. He looks down thoughtfully and then back up at me.
"Her name is Red."
I laugh. "That's a color, not a name.”
"Well, I like it," he says, resting his hand behind my seat.
“Why is it a she anyway?” I say, trying my best to ignore the closeness of his hand near my neck.
"Because she purrs like a PUS-"
“I get it," I say, silencing his lips with my fingers. He seems to like throwing that word around. A chuckle erupts from Nicholas as he grabs my hand. I blush at the sound and at the look on his face. I'm sure he revels in the thought of making me uncomfortable. His hold is warm and soft and I’m not sure I even want him to go.
"We should probably head out before it starts raining again," he says, letting my hand go but not before placing a soft kiss just above my knuckles.
“That's a good idea," I stutter. "I hate driving in the rain."
"You'll be fine. The gallery isn't too far. Plus, I promised Carol I would get you there in one piece. She threatened to chop off my balls if I didn't."
"She is a little overprotective." I laugh at the image of Carol impatiently waiting in front of Trinity for me to arrive.
"Just a little?" he says with a smirk. I'm sure Carol would be proud that her protective nature has Nicholas walking on eggshells.
We head down the wet street of Park Avenue toward SoHo. I drive slowly, trying my best to avoid pedestrians darting through the congested traffic. I'm glad we left an hour early because the streets are jam-packed, and many are even closed for the festivities, as visitors and New Yorkers flock toward the New Year’s celebrations in Times Square. I am a little bit envious of them. I've always wanted to stand in that crowd during the final countdown and watch the ball drop. It's not the same just watching it on TV. There’s something magical about everyone's gleeful expressions, even in the freezing weather that always made me want to go.
I smile as Sam Smith's Stay with Me starts playing on the radio. It sounds crystal-clear coming through the premium audio system of the sleek Ferrari. I’ve always been a fan of piano-heavy songs.
“Rebecca?” Nicholas's husky voice interrupts my thoughts. He leans over and turns on the defroster. The windows of the Ferrari are fogging up with the cold outside and the warm heat on the inside.
"Yes?"
"Thank you for letting me take you tonight."
I smile. "Well I guess I sort of needed a ride anyway."
It’s beginning to rain like it's the end of days, and the road ahead is starting to look like one giant ocean of black. We’ve been driving for nearly 40 minutes in almost complete silence and each minute has been torturous. There are so many things I’m bursting to say, but all of them involve ending the night in Nicholas’s arms. Just as I’m about to give up hope of ever finding this damn gallery, it appears on my right. I swerve, barely missing another car as I try not to completely pass the entrance. Shit. Nicholas watches me with a smile.
“Sorry.”
“You’re cute when you worry.” Nicholas laughs.
“Are you making fun of my driving skills?
“Not at all.” From the corner of my eye I can see Nicholas grinning. He’s totally making fun of my driving. Jerk. I would cry for an eternity if someone scratched or dented my two-hundred-thousand dollar car.
I pull to the front of the building, silently praying that it will give us a shorter run to the front entrance. The gallery is an elegant space that sits smack in the middle of several other glass-like structures. Surprisingly, the surrounding shops on the street are lively, despite being only a few short hours from the New Year.
“So have you been here before?” I ask, hoping to break the silence between us.
"This is my first visit. Tristan’s kept everything under wraps. He refused to let me see it before the opening.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t want your opinion.”
“He knows I would’ve given him a hard time about the location.”
“I don’t think we’re going to make it inside without getting drenched.”
“Hold on, I have an umbrella somewhere.” Nicholas reaches behind his seat and pulls out a giant black umbrella. “Give me second and I’ll come get you.”
“Okay, sure.” The passenger door of the car lifts open and Nicholas immediately jumps out and runs over to my side. For a moment, I’m caught in the rain as he lifts open the car door. Water splashes inside, wetting the bottom of the car. Oh shit.
“Nicholas, the inside of the car is getting drenched.” Nicholas appears at my side to help me step out of the car.
“Don’t worry about the car,” he says, covering me with his umbrella. A trickle of pleasure overwhelms me as he pulls me up toward him. For a moment, everything goes still, and the only sound I hear is the frantic rhythm of my heart and his ragged breath. I’ll admit that staying away from Nicholas hasn’t been the easiest, but I wonder if it’s been just as hard for him. Nicholas places a hand to my cheek and caresses my skin. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes give away everything. He takes his thumb and trails it across my bottom lip. His eyes never move off of my lips and I shiver at the heat coming off of him. A crack of thunder slices through the tension and he immediately releases me and pulls away. A flood of disappointment and then relief washes over me. I’ve often wished I could just flush him out of my heart, but he always seems to find his way back in.
“Let’s get inside before we’re drenched,” he says.
“Sure.” I pull away, leaving enough distance between us so that we’re not immediately touching.
Carol stands just inside the entrance of the gallery, greeting guests as they make their way inside the glass palace that is Trinity Art Gallery. Her face beams with exuberance as we walk through the entrance adorned in white crystals. She's wearing a beautiful plum dress that flows all the way to the floor, and the color makes her tanned skin glow. I smile at the way her hair is done in an up-do. She took my advice and went to have her hair done. Ringlets flow down the side of her face, reminding me of one of Jane Austen’s characters from the Regency Era.
Tristan appears at Carol’s side, holding an information pamphlet with his picture on it. The man is breathtaking in an impeccably tailored black suit with an open-collared shirt. From the top opening I can see a hint of his toned chest. His dar
k hair is combed forward, giving him a youthful look. I never realized how long his eyelashes were until now. They frame his eyes perfectly.
“Rebecca, I’m so glad you could come celebrate the opening of my gallery,” he says, embracing me with a warm smile.
“Thank you for inviting me. It’s beautiful.”
“Nick, glad to see you, as well.” The two men shake hands before turning their attention back to us.
Carol steps forward, giving me a quick hug. “Are you okay?” she whispers in my ear.
“I’m fine.” I smile.
We step past them and join the rest of Tristan’s guests inside the gallery. From the number of people here, I think it’s safe to assume the opening is a success. I’m shocked that at least half of the people in attendance are women. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the single women of New York would be attracted to a gorgeous artist who’s probably on everyone’s most eligible bachelor list.
My breath catches when I finally get a first look at a few of Tristan’s paintings. They’re nothing like what I imagined they would be. I thought he was painting landscapes or maybe some weird contemporary art. But no, these are something entirely different. Each room inside the art exhibit is privy to a different painting. The paintings are dark and erotic. The first is a painting of a black-winged man penetrating a young woman wearing a white collar. In the description, it says the painting was done with oils and a mixture of bodily fluids. Oh my.
I’m a bit taken aback by the description. Um, body fluids?
“You look just as surprised as I feel,” Nicholas mutters from the side of his mouth close to my ear so no one will hear.
Bound to You: Volume 3 Page 9
