by Haley Jenner
I watch his retreat, deflated at the thought that I probably won’t see him again. He pauses at the door, glancing over his shoulder. “You never told me your name.”
I shrug dejectedly. “Does it really matter?”
Nodding solemnly, he pushes the door open, walking into the street and disappearing into the heavy foot traffic.
“Well, if that wasn’t the most confusing interaction I’ve had with a male before,” I mumble to myself, pulling my eyes from where he stood only moments ago.
Checking the time, I grab my purse, cell, and keys, locking up and leaving the shop in search of coffee and a little something sweet to lift my mood. Sugar helps. Always. It doesn’t throw me mixed signals. It’s dependable. Always delicious.
I spend my lunch break meandering through the crowd, sipping coffee and window shopping. Contrary to my outward appearance, I’m not high maintenance. I crave simplicity in my style. I live for jeans, a tee and my converse. So shopping isn’t something I care to spend my time doing. Maybe that’s strange, considering I work in a clothing store. But I enjoy interacting with people. It’s easy, carefree. Shopping itself I find mind-numbing, which today, works. The monotony of it all helps me shut off my mind and more importantly, remove a certain tattooed somebody from my brain.
My eye catches the front counter as I step back through the shop’s door, a flat white box sitting where it most definitely was not when I left.
I glance around the space, scanning for anything else that might be out of place, but everything seems as it should. Dropping my belongings on the counter, I pull the box toward me, lifting the lid slowly.
Whatever’s inside is wrapped delicately in black tissue paper and I unfold it cautiously. The red material hits my eyes first and I pause, hands balled into fists as I turn my head looking for him. He’s not there, the space is silent, save my heavy breathing.
Lifting the dress from the box, I lay it on the counter, eyeing it skeptically, gnawing my thumbnail between my teeth. Using my index finger, I pull the box closer to me, moving the tissue paper in search for anything else.
A folded piece of paper comes into view and I grab at it quickly, flicking it open to read his words.
Wear the red shoes.
8pm. Ruin.
Parker
It matters to me. Your name.
Pulling my hands up to my face, I feel my cheeks before cupping my nose and mouth. I want to squeal. I want to dance. I want to jump up and down.
But I don’t.
The disturbing fact that he was able to get into the locked store without detection or without alarming any of the numerous people walking past every given second, stops me from reacting.
There’s a good chance he’s watching. Observing.
So instead of squealing, instead of dancing, instead of jumping up and down, I place the dress carefully back in the box, press the card delicately on top and replace the lid, grinning the entire time.
***
I stand in my underwear, staring at the dress draped across my bed.
I should go. He invited me. I like him. I think. I don’t really know him. But do you really know anyone before you start dating them?
It’s too risky. Too dangerous. He is too risky. Too dangerous. Good God, the man is menace personified. Storming eyes, inked skin and ripped muscles. Not to mention the bruising, the cuts. He vibrates threat, daring anyone to challenge him.
“Reason you’re standing in only your underwear, biting your nail all the while staring at a scrap of red material?”
I turn at Camryn’s voice, smiling at her in greeting. Her shoulder is propped against my doorframe, scrubs covering her body, feet bare.
“That guy came back into the shop,” I explain. “It was odd. Again. I thought I’d read his signals wrong, he came in to buy something for a girl. Turns out, that girl was me, this dress was waiting on the counter, gift wrapped.” I add with an arched eyebrow, “When I came back from lunch. Left me a note asking me to meet him tonight at Ruin.”
“How the fuck did he get into the shop if you were at lunch?” She pushes off the doorframe, walking into my room to drop onto my bed. “Cute dress by the way.”
I nod. “I’m refusing to think about how he managed to break into the shop without actually breaking in.”
She nods offhandedly. “Still don’t know why you work in that rich-bitch shop. You’re too smart to be serving people for a living.”
I frown at her. “Ryn. I like it. It’s stress-free.”
“So, you like him, he bought you a dress, invited you out, but you’re second guessing?”
My hands fall to my hips. “You’re right. I should go.”
“You should go,” she agrees. “As long as you feel safe around him.”
I sigh, moving to sit next to her. “I shouldn’t feel safe. He’s definitely dark, there’s something working behind his eyes, but he doesn’t scare me.”
She looks a million miles away and I know better than to reach out and touch her, so I wait for her to come back to me. She does, eventually, forcing a pained smile onto her face before standing up. “Instincts are usually pretty spot on.”
She watches me for a beat, forcing away her demons before smiling at me in affection. “I’m done starin’ at your tits. I’m gonna eat something incredibly unhealthy and pass out.”
She stops at my door, hand on the frame as she glances back. “Be safe, ok? Text or call me and let me know what you’re doing.”
“You could come you know,” I call out to her retreating form.
“HA!” she barks out. “Good one.”
Three
Parker
“You see a blonde walk through these doors, she’ll be wearing a red dress, you buzz me. Immediately. Got it?”
The security guard nods with bored indifference and I step into his space. “You know who pays you? Me.” I point heavily to my chest. “So fuckin’ listen to what I’m telling you before I break your face.”
He holds his hands up in surrender, nodding vigorously. “I got it, Parker. Blonde. Red dress. Call you. Immediately.”
I nod, shoulders relaxing as I take a step back. “She’s real fuckin’ cute. Smokin’. You’ll wanna fuck her, don’t let yourself think about that. I’ll know, and I’ll cut off your dick. Got it?”
His eyes widen and he nods his head, turning to the gathering crowd. Stalking back through the club, I push past people without care, working to get back to my office to take a breath. Closing myself into the small space, I crack my knuckles, irritated at the tension I feel at the uncertainty of tonight.
What the fuck do I do if she doesn’t show? I’m still caught on how to cement myself into her life. For someone who isn’t afraid to let her feelings show on her face, she’s really fucking hard to read. She seems to contradict herself at any given opportunity.
She’s shy, coy almost when it comes to our interactions but in the same way her diffidence shows on her face, her quiet and easy flirtation stuns me in its openness.
She’s unsure, I’d almost bet somewhat inexperienced, but she’ll watch me candidly, her interest in me not camouflaged in any way.
I play this wrong and she’s gone. That I’m certain of. That happens and Rocco spirals. That happens and I lose out on the time I plan on spending with her. I know that’s dangerous to think about. But I’m intrigued. If only slightly.
My cell buzzes in my pocket and I reach in to retrieve it.
TY: She’s here.
Tucking my phone back into my jeans, I rub my hands on my pants, cracking my neck side to side. Yanking the door open, I stalk back through the club in a similar way as before, pushing people out of my way without issue.
I see her as soon as my feet hit the bottom floor of the two-leveled building. She’d be impossible to miss. She’s wearing the dress, fitted so perfectly to her figure you’d think it was painted onto her skin. The red material blazes against her ivory skin, her back completely on show. The naked skin taunt
s every man in the club, two dimples pushed into the sway of her lower back like a target; raging and at the ready.
The dress hits about three inches below her ass, the shape of her slender legs emphasized by the red stilettos her feet sit within.
Her shoulder-length hair is down, pinned severely back on the right side, messy waves falling along the other.
She leans across the bar, offering her ear to Fin, my bartender. The move arches her back, offering the mass of men watching her the gift of the bend in her spine; the line clear and defined.
Her neck tips back at something Fin says, an accomplished grin shining on his face as he watches her. Another dickhead approaches her side, his hand touching her bare back and my hands clench into fists unconsciously. I shake them out, watching for her reaction. She pleases me, stepping from his touch almost immediately and shaking her head at his question. He moves in again and she holds her hands up waving them in a negative gesture, refuting his advances. Having seen enough, I move forward, just as the wanker touches her again. She glances away from the douche, seeking help from anywhere she can find it.
Grabbing his shoulder, I yank him backward, throwing him to the ground. Glowering down at him, I look to the security guard hovering close by. “Get him the fuck outta my club.”
Turning back to Codi, her focus is still distracted, her body angled away as she searches the growing crowd. Finally, turning back, her eyes hit mine and a slow blink of relief relaxes her posture.
Momentarily I’m stunned by her beauty. She’s wearing makeup, thicker than I’ve seen the few times I’ve laid eyes on her in person. Her deep blue eyes are rimmed heavily in black, intensifying the color of her iris to almost purple. Her perfectly crafted lips are painted nude, currently tipped upward in the delicate beginnings of a smile.
I want so bad to kiss her in that moment. And I hate myself for it. Kissing isn’t something I crave. Normally it’s a means to an end. Bitches love making out, gets them wet. Which is my end goal. To fuck them. But right now, staring at Codi’s pillowed mouth, I’d give my next breath, most likely my last, just to taste her. I don’t though, pulling my eyes away from her luscious mouth and thoughts that should definitely not be planting themselves in my mind.
Her ear, the one not covered by her hair is encased from lobe to tip in an intricate cuff and I lean closer, my lips a breath away. “Nice dress.”
Her teeth catch her bottom lip and dragging the soft cushion through her bite, she laughs softly. “Yeah, someone happened to gain access to my locked place of work to leave it for me.”
I raise my eyebrows in appreciation. “Impressive.”
She glances to her side on another laugh. “Or concerning.”
Tilting my head, I instruct her to follow me. She does without argument and I find myself a little more than fascinated by the lack of games she seems to be playing. Her interest in me is genuine and she feels no need to hide it. It’s liberating.
She follows my lead up the stairs to the VIP area on the second floor and I force myself not to look back and watch her ascent. Dropping my guard, even for a second, letting her see the biting need I feel to consume her, isn’t an option. Yeah, I want to fuck her. Bad. I want to dirty her pretty little perfection of a life. I wanna introduce her to the addiction a hard and filthy fuck can cause. My want might be hardwired, but I need her to swallow my indifference. Detached. That’s who I am. All that she’ll get.
Reaching the top, I freeze briefly at the sight of Rocco. He lifts his beer in salute in my direction, eyes hardening almost immediately as Codi comes into view.
Moving to the seating farthest away from him, I wait for Codi to slide along the small rounded booth before following her in. I focus my complete attention on her and her alone, working to rid Rocco’s looming presence; unsure at what the fuck he’s playing at.
“Codi.” She leans in closer and I let my fake as fuck grin grow on my face.
“It’s better, I’ll give you that.”
She leans back slightly, looking uncertain. “What?”
“Than Bob. I prefer Cody to Bob.”
She pulls a hand to her face, covering her mouth as she giggles into it.
Women giggling usually pisses me off, the forced need to feel for it to sound attractive. Their inability to really let loose, afraid they’ll embarrass themselves. Not Codi, no, like the rest of her, the giggle is real. A sound that escapes her stomach, her whole body shaking with the freeness in her laugh. Sitting here, listening to her giggle, I want like hell to make her do it again.
“No,” she sighs cheerfully. “It’s my name. I’m Codi.”
“Your parents gave you a boy’s name?”
She shrugs, smiling in a way that makes me know this isn’t the first time she’s heard something to that effect.
“My sister’s name is Camryn.”
I nod, pursing my lips in thought. “Codi. I like it. Gotta last name Codi?”
“Rein. Codi Rein.”
I swallow the tremor of anger that flashes through me at hearing her last name, turning away to signal a waiter. Ordering our drinks, I work to suppress the volatile temper wanting to spill from inside of me, the quaking fury that wants to grab her by the throat and make her listen to what her father took from me.
I sit silently, eyes averted while I wait for our drinks. I feel her stare on my face, but she doesn’t fidget, doesn’t attempt conversation. She just waits. Quietly while I repress my overwhelming need to fight.
Our drinks arrive and I exhale heavily, turning back toward her and holding up my glass. “Nice to meet you, Codi Rein.”
She clinks her glass against mine, taking a small sip as she watches me down my gin and tonic in a single swallow. She eyes me cautiously, but even as I saturate in my rage, I don’t see her fear. It’s not there. Instead, I see only curiosity, definitely a small sliver of caution, but it’s not significant.
As our eyes remain anchored, she gives away to her caution, a beautiful smile spanning her face. Is it possible for someone to be this attractive? Or am I amplifying it in my head because she’s forbidden? Is it possible that her beauty is on par with every bitch in this club and because she’s poisonous for my soul, my self-destructive fuck of a mind is deceiving me?
I blink purposefully, working to rid the haze of exaggerated lust. It doesn’t work. Worse, when my eyes refocus on her face, her beauty hits me harder.
I want to strangle her, wrap my inked hand around the creamy column of her neck, but not to hurt her. No. I want to feel her fluttering pulse under my fingertips. I want to cut off her air supply, only to exemplify her orgasm; make her come harder.
I want to sink my teeth into her skin; only to mark her flawless skin a rainbow of blue, purple and red. Imprint my bite marks all over her body like tattoos, marking her as mine.
I want to tear her open, fuck her so hard, so deep she’ll struggle to remember a time when her body, her pleasure didn’t belong to me.
“So how do you reserve a VIP booth in Ruin?”
My thoughts are fucking with my head. I shouldn’t be so lost in her. My control is already slipping and we’ve yet to share a proper conversation, Worse, I haven’t fucking touched her. This was a bad idea, but fucked if I’m ready to admit defeat before I’ve had my fun.
I lift my hand to the waiter, signaling my want for another drink, waiting for him to acknowledge my request with a quick drop of his chin before turning back to Codi.
“You own it.”
She looks a little taken aback by my words, but the shock is pleasant, not disbelieving. “You own the club?”
“My brother and I,” I indicate toward Rocco and he swallows visibly.
“The guy that’s been death staring me since I walked up those stairs? He’s your brother?”
Once again, Codi Rein shocks me. She clued into Rocco’s animosity, but she didn’t let herself be frightened away by it. She ignored it.
“That’s Rocco,” I state. “He’s a little intense.�
��
She watches him for a few drawn out seconds, meeting his glare head-on before focusing back on me. “Just a bit.”
I smile. For real this time. And it shocks me. The ease in which the gesture came over me.
“Give me a sec.” I push out of the booth, walking toward Rocco with an irritated glare.
“Fuck you playin’ at?”
He shrugs indifferently. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You need to go,” I spit, kicking my foot against the table, tipping his drink.
He stands, stepping into my space.
“Rocco, for fuck’s sake, how am I gonna play this right with you scaring her away. We’re on the same fuckin’ team here.”
His eyes bore into mine, the devil dancing in his pupils and I fight against the urge to step back.
“Remember that,” he warns, stare darting to Codi then back to me. Pushing my chest, he moves past me, his large frame jogging down the stairs without another glance in our direction.
I walk to the balcony rail, bracing my hands along the bar and growling into the pounding music of the club.
“You didn’t have to do that on my account.”
I twist my neck to bring her into view. “I didn’t do shit for you.” Pushing away from the edge, I move back to my seat, retrieving my glass to down it in one gulp as I signal for another. Codi doesn’t follow me, remaining at the balcony edge, looking down on the partygoers with eager interest.
She stands like that for several minutes, my eyes cutting like a laser into her back. She either doesn’t seem to notice. Or doesn’t seem to care.
A new song starts up and as she watches the throes of people below, her hips begin moving unconsciously. Her ass swings seductively side-to-side and I pinch the bridge of my nose for wanting her as much as I do.
This was not supposed to happen this way. She was supposed to be crazed with her need for me. She was supposed to be lost in her need to touch me. Not the other way around.
I watch her ass move, scanning my eyes over the small number of people scattered along the balcony with us; their focus all trained on her perky ass and the scrap of material covering it.
