Burn Into Me

by Leeson, Jillian

  Palatial mansions secured by hedges and ornate gates appear on each side of the wide leafy streets. We turn into an open wrought iron gate, and a uniformed attendant stops us before we can enter the driveway. Ryder opens the window and lifts his hand to the attendant, who greets him politely by name and waves us through. The long driveway is designed in such a way to dazzle visitors with the impressive sight of the enormous Georgian-style stone mansion with its opulent fountain in the middle of the courtyard.

  When the car comes to a stop, a valet opens my door and while I try to step out without losing my balance, Ryder is next to me, offering me his arm. Cameras flashing all around us, we walk up the plush, red-carpeted steps to the white-pillared entrance. Without the death grip I’m exerting on his arm, I’m sure my legs would have given away underneath me. My heart is pounding in my ears as I blink at the looming foyer in front of me. What the hell am I doing?

  Brushing his hand over mine, Ryder leans over and whispers in my ear, “I’ll be with you all the way. I’m not leaving you out of my sight. Just take a deep breath.”

  Putting on a forced smile, I do as he says and feel a little bit better. He nudges me forward into the high-ceilinged foyer lit by a sparkling crystal chandelier, and hands me a flute of champagne from one of the many trays floating around. A few sips of the chilled, crisp bubbly help calm my nerves, and I start paying attention to my surroundings.

  We’re walking into a cavernous ballroom, filled with groups of impeccably dressed men in tuxedoes and women in long, glittery gowns, their polite conversation in tune with the classical music played by the string quartet beside the carved marble fireplace. At the far end of the room, three sets of French doors open up to a patio overlooking the lit pool area. Every few steps we advance further into the room, waistcoated waiters stop us to offer more champagne and an assortment of hors d’oevres from their trays.

  Ryder shakes hands left and right with other tuxedoed men, who I assume are business associates, although none of them look half as handsome as he does. Perfect-looking women wearing revealing, figure-hugging dresses flash him seductive smiles, flutter their fake-lashed eyes at him, touch him intimately on the arm. I clench my jaw, trying to crush the burning in my chest. They look so right for him; shouldn’t he be dating one of them instead of someone like me, who clearly doesn’t belong here?

  As if he can read my mind, Ryder slides his arm around my back, his hand settling around my waist, and turns away from the platinum blond who tries to peck him on the cheek. Gazing at me, he curves his lips into a devastating half-smile that turns me inside out, instantly quelling all my insecurities.

  “Ryder! I thought you’d left me in the lurch.”

  A short, bald man in his sixties holds out his hand to Ryder. It takes me a second, but then his face registers: it’s Rosenberg from the breakfast meeting. My stomach drops, and I look down at the floor. I hope to God he doesn’t recognize me.

  “You know I wouldn’t miss tonight. There’s too much at stake.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time of discuss business tonight. Aren’t you going to introduce me to that lovely lady of yours? This must be the first time I’ve ever seen you in female company.”

  Ryder pulls me closer to his side. “This is my girlfriend. Elle, meet Martin Rosenberg.”

  Blinking, I lift my head. He didn’t say what I think he did, did he?

  Rosenberg shakes my hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you. I don’t know, you look sort of familiar. Have we met before?

  Dazed, I ignore his question and look up to Ryder, who answers for me with a straight face, not giving anything away.

  “That’s unlikely, unless you’ve been doing volunteer work in a homeless shelter recently.”

  “Who, me?” Rosenberg holds his protruding belly while he lets out a cackling laugh.

  An imposing, familiar-looking black woman in a navy power suit approaches us, and Rosenberg immediately straightens up.

  “Congratulations on your appointment, ma’am. I just wanted you to know, I voted for you. Martin Rosenberg.” He stretches out his hand to her.

  And then it hits me—she is Bernadette Williams, recently appointed mayor of New York City. Having won in a landslide victory, she promises to narrow the big gap between rich and poor.

  “Why, thank you. I’m planning to make a difference, create opportunities for the people who need it the most. I heard you are working on a project that may be a good fit.”

  “I am indeed. Let me introduce you to Ryder De Luca, who is the main sponsor of the project, and his girlfriend, who is an expert on homelessness. Ryder, please meet our wonderful new mayor.”

  What the hell? Girlfriend, expert? At this point, I feel so overwhelmed that I can’t do anything but nod and shake hands. Ryder lets go of my waist, and I realize the mayor is one of the people he needed to meet tonight.

  He clears his throat. “Mayor Williams, I’m honored to meet you. Our project is an important one for New York City. As you know, homelessness is one of our biggest problems. Sadly, the latest figures show that of the fifty-odd thousand homeless people in the city, more than twenty-thousand are children.

  “Our project, once completed, will offer two hundred apartments for homeless children and their families, who are now relying on the city’s soup kitchens and shelters to get by. It is our vision not only to provide shelter, but also a new start in life. We will have employment agencies, banking facilities, counseling services, activity centers, and childcare facilities on site. We’re also looking to collaborate with schools to ensure the children have access to quality education. Each child or family will be assigned an adviser, who will offer personalized plans and support. This will be the first time child homelessness in our city is tackled at this scale.”

  I’m completely blown away. Ryder has never mentioned this project to me, which is going to make a great impact on the kids I know from the soup kitchen. I can’t help but grin from ear to ear—I am so proud of him.

  It seems the mayor is equally impressed. “That sounds like a fantastic initiative. And the city will certainly support you in every way we can. Is this a standalone project or do you have more planned?”

  “The first development will be in West Chelsea, overlooking the Hudson River, and depending on its success, we will look at developing similar projects in other parts of the city.”

  An odd feeling overcomes me; a strong sense that something he has said is significant.

  “What timeframe are you looking at?”

  “The apartments will be ready some time next year, but the demolition of the old buildings will take place Wednesday next week.”

  Oh my God.

  A demolition to make way for new apartments. In West Chelsea. On Wednesday.

  It can’t be a coincidence. It can’t.

  This is the demolition that The 99 is planning to derail.

  Ryder

  She is taking a hell of a long time.

  While I was discussing details of the project with Martin after Mayor Williams’ enthusiastic response, Elle excused herself to go to the bathroom. I don’t know if I imagined it, but she looked uncomfortable, and now I am wondering if I should have let her go by herself.

  Rosenberg keeps on talking, but I am not taking in what he says—all I can think about is what Elle is up to.

  “Excuse me, Martin. I’ll be right back.”

  Even though his facial expression tells me he’s pissed, I ignore it, making my way through the mass of guests as fast as I can, but coming across business contacts along the way slows me down. And then there are the numerous women who are trying to get my attention. Dressed in exclusive couture, they are nothing short of model perfection. A few months ago, I would have picked the most attractive one for a one-nighter. But now I can hardly distinguish between them, let alone find one I am attracted to, and when they start talking to me, touching me, they make my skin crawl.

  I don’t know what’s happening to me. Nowadays I only ha
ve eyes for Elle—she’s like an addiction, an obsession to me. It’s like some invisible force has taken over that draws me to her like a guided missile locked into its target. And now I’m even becoming possessive, jealous; an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling that makes my stomach turn. Tonight, I haven’t been the only one who thinks she’s a breath of fresh air in a room full of model-perfect women, judging from the many appreciative gazes cast at her. So I’ve deliberately kept my arm around her all night, clearly signaling she’s mine. I don’t know what’s going on with me—I’m always in control of myself. But I can’t help it. Every time a man checks her out or talks to her, I feel like punching him to the ground.

  I finally get through the throng of people, and just when I step into the foyer, I spot Elle heading towards the front door. In two strides I am right behind her.

  “Going somewhere, beautiful?”

  She spins around, and her eyes lock with mine. She looks pale—is she planning on leaving without telling me?

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  A minute shake of her head reveals how she feels, but she says, “I’m fine. Really.”

  Even though she lets me pull her into my arms, her body feels stiff against me. I am confused—what have I done wrong?

  “Come on, let’s find a place where we can talk.”

  With my hand on her back, I lead her down the stairs, into the open-plan basement. It is noisy; loud cheering and applause emanate from the professional indoor basketball court in the center. Guests crowd around the wet bar adjacent to the professional court, which is decked out complete with scoreboard. Mounted television screens on the walls display the fundraising game that current and former NBA stars are playing against guests willing to part with ten grand for the honor.

  I guide Elle through the throng of people until we reach the far side of the basement where I push open a double set of doors and lock them behind me. It is instantly quiet, and I blink to get used to the dimness of the room, which turns out to be a small foyer. At the end is another door. I open it, and we step inside a spacious home theater with three rows of seating.

  A movie is playing—The Fast and the Furious—and when I wink at Elle, she grins back knowingly. We sit down on the chestnut-brown leather seats in the front row, and I take her cold hands into mine.

  I say, “Now, tell me why you’re upset.”

  She looks down at our intertwined hands. “I’m not—it’s nothing, really.”

  “Is it something I did or say?”

  She shakes her head. “Really, nothing’s wrong.”

  “Is it because I called you my girlfriend?”

  “Am I?” Elle looks up, straight into my eyes. “I just—I’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend before.”

  In my mind, I punch my fist in the air—she has accepted being my girlfriend. I can’t suppress a triumphant grin while I caress her cheek with the back of my hand. “I want the whole world to know you’re mine. And once you start working with me on the project, everyone will find out.”

  “Hey, I didn’t say I’ll work with you.”

  I feel my heart sink a little. I was sure she would be keen to get involved, especially since she’s so passionate about the issue of homelessness.

  “But,” she says, “I can tell it’s going to make a difference to a lot of homeless kids. Actually, I think it’s pretty damn amazing. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about it before.” Her eyes light up, and I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

  “I didn’t want you to think I was out to impress you. I wanted you to get to know me for me, not for the things I do.”

  Her lips curve into a provocative smile. “Ryder, I never expected to say this, but for someone as obnoxious as you, you can be too modest sometimes.”

  “Is that a compliment, beautiful?”

  “Hmm…that depends. I don’t want you to get more bigheaded than you already are.”

  “Bigheaded, huh?”

  Smirking, I slide my arm around her slender waist. “I’ll show you bigheaded.”

  Raising the armrest between us, I lean over and cover her mouth with mine. She opens up to me, and my tongue finds hers, all hot and eager. I can never get enough of her sweet taste. My hands curve along her hips, around her waist, and in one motion, I pull her on my lap so she straddles me. Her dress parts at the split, causing the skirt to ride up her thighs.

  My hand yanks down her dress strap, dragging her bra with it, and greedily cups her breast. I slide my other hand up and along her silky thigh until I find her panties, damp with her arousal.

  “You’re so wet. Tell me you want me.”

  “I want you. Now. Inside me.”

  I rip off her panties while her slender fingers undo my pants and push them down just enough for them to close around my rock-hard cock. While she sweeps her tongue in my mouth, she starts moving her hand up and down. I almost shoot off so I grasp her wrist. “Stop. You’re killing me here.”

  She squeezes me hard, and I fumble in my pocket for a condom, rolling it on in record time before she lowers herself onto me. I thrust forward, burrowing myself up to the hilt. We moan simultaneously, with Elle tossing her head back, her long dark hair trailing over the tattoo on her back. I hold onto her hips, pounding into her again and again as she meets me stroke for stroke.

  In the background, the sound of revving engines reverberates throughout the theatre, sending vibrations to my seat. The music intensifies together with the roar of car engines and the horn of an approaching train. At the sound of a crash, I make a hard, final thrust and find my explosive release, with Elle following right behind me.

  Still buried inside her, I draw her against me, my nose in her hair, breathing in her exotic scent. I wish we could stay like this forever. I feel a connection with her that I’ve never felt with anyone before.

  There’s no way in hell I’m ever going to let her go.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Elle

  The meeting seems to go on forever.

  Glancing at the clock on the wall, I tap my foot impatiently. Another ten minutes.

  After I found out about Ryder’s project at the charity event, I’ve been dying to talk to Adam, to talk him out of occupying the development site and preventing the demolition. I am sure an occupation would create a lot of publicity, but once it becomes known what the development is really about, it will undermine the credibility of The 99, and worse, it will wreck Ryder’s plans, which are going to help so many people who are in dire need of it. I have to stop them.

  “Thanks everyone for coming tonight.”

  Adam closes the meeting—finally. I wait for everyone to get up, put their chairs away, and leave the classroom, until only he and I remain.

  Adam clears the leaflets off the side table against the wall. “Haven’t seen you around for a while.”

  “I’ve been busy studying. I’ve fallen behind. So, what’s been happening?” I ask, trying to use a casual tone.

  “Remember we talked about those luxury apartments they’re building in Chelsea? Well, it’s definitely going through. We’re going to stop that demolition. We’re going to show those assholes that we’re not going to stand for Manhattan becoming exclusive to the one per cent.”

  He whacks a pile of leaflets on the table to make his point, and I know I have to play it cool, otherwise he won’t listen to me.

  “Listen, Adam, I’ve been looking into that. And I found out maybe you’ve got it wrong. I heard from a reliable source that those apartments aren’t going to be expensive condos at all. They’re building low-cost housing for homeless families, for homeless kids. That demolition should definitely not be stopped.”

  Adam’s brows draw together in a frown. “How can you be so sure? How reliable is your source?”

  No way I will tell him about Ryder. He’ll see me as someone who is colluding with the enemy—a traitor. I know I have to come clean one day, but I’m not ready yet. Even though I’ve decided to make Ryder a part of my
life, I still don’t know where we are going—if we’re going anywhere. The only thing I can do is try to protect him as much as I can. It would kill me if he’d be hurt somehow by the actions of The 99, especially when I could have done something to stop them.

  “I’m very sure. I can even get you the plans. The complex that’s going to be built will not only have apartments, but it’s going to have a whole network of support. There will be counseling, childcare centers, and everything else. Seriously, it’s going to make a huge difference for a lot of homeless families. It’s going to change lives. This is not something anyone should stand in the way of.”

  I am careful not to say “we” when talking about the group. They’ve been part of my life for a long time, but if I am considering having any future with Ryder, I know I will have to cut ties with them eventually, and I prefer to do it gently and slowly.

  A flash of disappointment appears in Adam’s eyes. “If you can prove it, show me the plans, then yeah, we should set our sights on something else.”

  “Good. I’ll email them to you. And let me know what you come up with next.”

  I pick up my bag from under the table. “Anyway, I have to go. Have a funeral to go to.”

  We say our goodbyes, and with a sigh of relief, I make my way out of the building. I’ll have to hurry to make it in time for the funeral wake.

  Two mornings ago, a call at some ungodly hour woke me from my slumber. It was Damon, telling me that CJ had been involved in an accident. He had been in a street race, and his death was instant. Even though CJ and I hadn’t been close, I felt sad nonetheless. He’d been a formidable opponent, and I had enormous respect for him. CJ was no rookie by any means—he’d been in the game long enough to know the dangers. This just shows that it could have happened to anyone. It could have happened to Damon; it could have been me. That is why I’ve been warning Ryder against street racing. It could have been him, and I wouldn’t know how I’d live with myself if it were.