by J. L. Weil
Son of a bitch. The last thing I need is a bloody nose.
Chapter Two
Correction: It wasn’t a wall. Just a guy with abs of steel, and I had barreled straight into him. Besides losing my next meal, the collision caused my bag to slip off my shoulder and on to a slice of cheese pizza. Freaking wonderful.
“Maybe watch where you’re going…”
The rest of my snappy retort got stuck in my throat when my eyes slammed into his. I immediately shut my mouth, and stared into the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen. Bold and bright, they were an unusual violet color. My gaze roamed over the rest of his face, intrigue sucking me in. His cheeks jutted out at sharp angles that led to a defined jaw and full lips, which quirked at the corners.
What did he find so amusing?
I bristled.
I didn’t care how jaw dropping he was. The look in his stunning eyes made me uncomfortable—their intensity overwhelming. Why was he staring at me? If he was expecting an apology, he would be sorely disappointed.
The guy towered over me, and my neck cramped from looking up at him. For some reason, he took a step toward me, forcing my back against the damp concrete wall.
The first strings of fear wrapped around my heart. Something in his eyes had my internal alarm going off. This guy was dangerous. He continued to scrutinize me, and my eyes shifted, taking in the rest of his appearance.
He had an obvious love for black. His dark pressed suit with a white cotton T-shirt underneath made him appear older than his smooth face. He couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than me, which made me think he was a trust fund baby. An influential and dominating presence emanated from him, reeking of trouble.
His midnight brow lifted—the same shade as his windblown hair. “Are you okay?” His voice was cool and silky. It had a calming effect on my ears, almost hypnotic.
Did he just say something? I shook my head. “What?”
Shifting his stance, he allowed me a smidgen of space, his gaze still relentless. It felt as if he was dissecting me bit by bit with the ferocity of his eyes. I found them mesmerizing and difficult to look away.
“You know, you can stop staring now,” I ground out. I needed to keep his gaze focused on my eyes, my lips, my boobs, any part of me that was distracting, so my hands were free to slip into his pockets. And voilà. Hopefully, I was bit richer tonight.
“And miss seeing your pretty face?”
Damn, did the sound of his voice have to be so rich and sensual? He grinned, revealing deep dimples on either cheek. His face now an inch from mine.
From this angle, I spotted a black leather wallet peeking out of his inside jacket pocket. To distract him further, I pushed his chest and, at the same time, I slipped his wallet into my coat pocket, and then folded my arms, needing some sort of defense from his body. Was he flirting with me?
“I’m not a hooker, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
His lips thinned, no longer amused. “I’m not, but I am looking for someone.”
“Uh, I’m definitely not her. So…” I hoped he would get out of my way and let me pass. I was wrong. What was with people? Did I have a tattoo on my forehead saying “Sucker”? My mouth started flapping before I could stop myself. “Um, do you think you could step back? I really need to pee.” Classy, Olivia. You run into a hot, rich guy and all you can think to say is “I have to pee”?
Ugh. I wanted to crawl under the nearest bench. Heat crawled over my neck. I shouldn’t have been surprised by his reaction, but I was as his lips curled.
“What are you doing out here alone?” he asked, ignoring my need for space. His eyes suddenly took on a new interest in me.
Major warning bells went off, and I scrambled to come up with something that would ward off any seedy ideas. “For your information, I’m not alone. I’m actually on my way to the dorms, which, last I checked, isn’t a crime. I’m meeting my huge—I’m talking massive—boyfriend. Like he has muscles for days.” Okay, I might have laid that on a little thick. He probably didn’t believe me.
He leaned down, the scent of him assaulting my senses, like the sea after a thunderstorm, and I gulped. Why did he have to smell so freaking good? It derailed my train of thought. “Is that so?” he challenged me.
“If you make another move toward me, I’m punching you in the dick.” Defense 101: Hit a guy where it hurts, and then run.
He chuckled, and my hands balled into fists. “This has been interesting.” Those violet eyes bored into mine, and he lifted a hand as if to touch my cheek.
I should have made good on my threat, instead of just standing there like I’d never seen a guy before. My behavior was odd, but then again, so was this entire encounter.
I held my breath, waiting.
He dropped his hand, the muscles in his body suddenly tightening. Something other than me had his back prickling up, and I was curious what it was. Running a hand through his hair, those piercing eyes returned to mine. “Not possible,” he muttered.
For a paralyzing moment, I thought I had been caught red-handed. Anxiously, I tucked my honey blonde hair behind my ears to keep it from hanging in my face and raised a brow. What is he mumbling about?
With an expression I couldn’t pin, he turned and walked off. No apology. No “it was nice meeting you.” Just a cold shoulder and a bizarre meeting.
I watched him strut across the perfectly manicured courtyard with purposeful strides. Wow. I was just going to pretend the last ten minutes had never happened, except my mind was plagued with questions.
What had he meant by “not possible”?
Who was he?
Where was he going?
What was his name?
I hated mysteries, and that guy oozed unanswered questions.
He never bothered to look back, and for some inexplicable reason, it irked me. One thing was clear, I needed to get off the streets and the hell out of Chicago. There was nothing holding me here, other than Staci, but she would be headed to college soon.
With a sigh of regret, I gave Brentley University one last glimpse, and went in search of a bathroom.
My mind mulled over everything I’d lost as I walked—Mom, my home, my friends, all sense of love and stability. No wonder I’d become so cynical. The measly amount of money in my bank account wouldn’t last longer than a few days, and I was saving it to get out of here. California sounded heavenly right about now. Warm, sandy beaches. Bountiful opportunities. And miles away from Denny.
How could I say no?
Shifting my bag that housed everything I owned higher on my shoulder, I walked toward a building on the edge of campus. I jogged up the steps, pushing the door open to the commons of Cummings Hall. The ladies’ room was to the left. I quickly took care of my bladder, and went to wash my hands, splashing warm water on my face. In the side pocket of my bag, I dug out my hairbrush and ran it through my snarled hair.
Feeling halfway normal, I stared at my reflection. Who would have ever thought the clumsy, sassy girl from Wrigleyville would end up here? Not me. Not in a million years. I would have laughed in their faces.
My aqua eyes were tired and puffy. No amount of cream would fix these bad boys, but a pillow top mattress and a solid ten hours of sleep would do wonders. The only thing saving me from looking like a zombie was my thick, dark eyelashes. I never had to wear mascara. The dusting of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of my nose had started to fade as winter approached.
I fitted a beanie over my hair to prevent the wind from knotting it, and my keep ears warm. Digging into my coat pocket, I pulled out the sucker’s wallet and fumbled through the slots.
Son of a bitch.
There was nothing. No credit cards. No cash. Not even an ID. Who the hell carries around an empty wallet? A ghost, that’s who, or someone with something to hide. And the mysterious stranger seemed to have plenty to hide. I still didn’t know his name. Disappointed, I tossed the black leather billfold into the garbage, cursing my luck. I sh
ould have gone for the watch.
Sighing, I gathered my bag, and set out to find a cozy spot I could curl up in for the night. The train station was always an option, but I risked being kicked out by security, and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with authority figures. My other option was an abandoned warehouse behind the convenience store that had come in handy, and I had often made it my own little sanctuary at night.
I hauled ass down the stone steps of Cummings Hall—not very gracefully I might add—when a shiver wracked my body, as a jolt of icy wind whipped through me. Leif and his harem were nowhere in sight. Stealing a glance over my shoulder, I saw the sidewalks were vacant, but a sudden flight response rose up inside me. With each step, I couldn’t shake the instinct, and instead of ignoring the feeling, I took a quick turn toward the courtyard—away from the campus buildings behind me. While trekking across the street, some jackass honked from his Mercedes, and I flipped him off, jumping onto the sidewalk. Chicago traffic was the absolute worst.
It was only a few blocks’ walk, but as I passed Lou’s Quick Mart, the prickly sensation of being followed increased tenfold. I turned my head around for another peek. Again, no one there. I bolted.
This was definitely one of my not very thought-out decisions, but I also didn’t want to get killed tonight. Better safe than sorry. If I was wrong, no harm. Sure, I might feel silly afterward, and have a quick laugh, but I would be safe.
The sound of footsteps pounding behind me told me I’d made the right choice. I amplified my speed, flying over the grass. My Converse sunk into the damp dirt, and I lost my beanie in the process. Strands of my hair flung in my face as I ran. It didn’t take long for my legs to burn and my lungs to ache from the exertion, but I pushed myself. Blood rushed to my cheeks as my heart quickened.
Terror clamped down on my chest and settled. Knowing this could end badly, like really bad for me, I refused to think of who was chasing me or what they wanted. Damn those horror books I’d been obsessed with in high school. My imagination was getting the best of me.
Money?
Rape?
Torture?
Slavery?
A million horrible scenarios raced through my head, clouding my ability to keep my wits sharp—a huge mistake.
“Who the hell is following me?” I asked myself as confusion set in beside the fear. The only thing I was certain of was I needed to get somewhere public at record speeds.
I cut the corner toward the multistory buildings, but realized my mistake, having turned right instead of left. I stared at a dead end alley.
Smart move, Olivia. Now what?
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” I muttered out loud, trying to gather my thoughts through the slick feeling of terror. It gripped me, and for a second, I was afraid I would cower into a ball in the middle of the street.
I jerked around, hoping I had enough of a lead to backtrack before my stalker cornered me. No go.
A shadow stood in the mouth of the alley, blocking the exit. From the size of his form, it was a man… a very big man.
Trapped, I released a soft whimper. My breath came out in a cloud in front of my face. What do I do? Did I even have options at this point? What could I do besides cry for help, and hope someone came to my rescue?
I didn’t like my odds. Not at this time of night or in this part of town. Everyone was in their dorms with the music turned up, and people were laughing, drinking. Who was going to hear the cries of a desperate girl?
I opened my mouth to scream, and that was when I heard a familiar voice. Someone I’d only met a short while ago, but was unlikely to forget.
“Just the girl I was hoping to run into,” a deep and rich voice said from the darkness.
Son of a bitch.
I was going to cause him bodily harm for real this time.
Chapter Three
The very last person I ever thought I’d see again, stood in front of me in all his pompous glory—the jackass with the dreamy eyes and sinful dimples, who had almost mowed me down in the last alley we’d shared. The one I had stolen the empty wallet from earlier. What were the freaking odds?
Pretty slim, I thought, unless he’d been following me.
But why would he do that? Why would he care about a wallet with nothing in it?
“You!” I accused him, a feeling of anger engulfing me, and giving me a dose of boldness. “You’ve been following me. Why?” I demanded, as my eyes bore into his First rule of being a thief: never admit to what you’ve done.
My mysterious stalker lifted a brow, his form dwarfing the entrance of the alley. Words couldn’t do justice to how striking his face was—a truly unearthly beauty. His violet eyes were a stark contrast to his fair skin. “You intrigue me.”
I wanted to berate him for scaring me half to death. I didn’t need any more nightmares in my life. “The laws of nature intrigue me. Literature intrigues me. Stars intrigue me. But following people down dark alleys doesn’t intrigue me. I think you might need some new hobbies. Stalking is creepy.”
“It wasn’t my intent to frighten you,” he said, a smile playing on his lips.
He needed to stop doing that—flashing those dimples at me. I didn’t like the way my belly flip-flopped. “Why don’t I believe you?” I shifted my feet, dying to run again. The dreamy stranger made me wary.
“Because you’re smart. What’s your name?”
His voice sounded closer than it had before, but I hadn’t even seen him move. I glared. “Sorry, I don’t think names are necessary. I’ve got places to be.” I started to walk around him, quickening my pace, but I should have known he wasn’t going to let me go.
His hand shot out, gripping my arm, and twisting me so I was forced to face him once again. “I highly doubt it.”
Heat pooled on my skin where his hand held me. “You think you know me? Please.” I jerked away, dislodging his hand, but not because I was stronger, or had caught him off guard. He had released me.
“Your name,” he insisted.
Geez. If it got him off my back, so be it. “Olivia Campbell,” I answered in an even tone, resigned to my fate. If he had been following me for the wallet, why hadn’t he mentioned it yet?
“Olivia,” he repeated as if testing the sound of my name on his lips. “Now, that wasn’t so hard.”
Smartass.
“Happy now?” I snapped, prepared to go on my merry way.
He lifted a single brow. “We’re just getting started, Cupcake.”
“Don’t call me that. I gave you my name, even though you haven’t given me yours.” Did I even want to know? He would probably give me a fake anyway. Damn. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I shouldn’t have given him my real name. That was so stupid of me. If I was going to survive, I had to be smarter than that.
His lips curved. “It seems we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Jase Dior.”
I rubbed my arm not because it hurt, but just the opposite. Tingles radiated from where he’d touched me, confusing me. Jase, huh? He even had a sexy name. Not surprising though, it suited him. I shoved my hands into my back pockets, ignoring the strange sensation. “Why are you so interested in me?” I asked.
He blinked. “I haven’t figured it out yet.”
A snorting sound came from the back of my throat. “Can you at least tell me why have you been following me?”
“I have a weakness for pretty things.”
“Like diamonds? Cars? The sunset?” I asked.
“No, blondes,” he replied matter-of-factly.
I choked. An awkward silence descended, and I was still trying to come up with a better plan than my first to get myself out of this situation. I still didn’t know what kind of situation I was in. Good? Or bad? “I’m not a natural blonde,” I finally said, breaking the silence. It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.
He crossed his arms, his muscles stretching the fabric of his suit jacket as they covered the taut chest hidden under his shirt. “I can be flexible.”
Hell no.<
br />
“How old are you?” he asked.
Next, he was going to want to know my bra size, or my social security number. Either way, I wasn’t dishing. “Does it matter?”
“No, not really,” he admitted, angling his head to the side as he regarded me with those piercing eyes.
What the hell was he getting at? I definitely didn’t trust him. Flipping the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, I covered my tousled hair. “You’re really starting to weird me out. I’m not interested in any little sex rings you’ve got going on the side. So it was nice meeting you, Jase.” Hope I never see you again.
Even as the thought left my mind, I knew it wasn’t true. As much as I needed a ridiculous amount of therapy, I couldn’t pretend there wasn’t something about Jase that captivated me.
“Not so fast.” A breeze blew down the alley, carrying his scent in the air. It reminded me of sea spray and moonlight, like a midnight beach party. “You don’t belong on the streets.”
I snorted. “Thanks for the unnecessary concern, but I do just fine on my own.”
He moved forward, so that his warm breath danced along my cheek, and I flinched. “I’m not going to hurt you. It isn’t my style to intimidate women,” he admitted, shooting me a disarming smile.
He shouldn’t be equipped with such a powerful weapon. For a moment, I forgot we stood in the street. That it was freezing outside. That I must look atrocious. The way he stared at me made me not feel alone for the first time in weeks.
“Okay, what is it you want from me? Am I a welfare project? Because I’m not interested in being your charity case.”
He forked a hand through his dark hair. “Do you always jump to so many conclusions? I should just pick another girl, but I can’t figure out why I’m drawn to you.”
“It’s the hair, isn’t it?” I questioned, remembering his comment about blondes.
