by Jess Bentley
Am I dead?
The words echoed in his head. Along with the sound of his favorite Sinatra song coming from somewhere far away.
Am I really dead? he asked himself again. Arsen tried to lift up his body, but he struggled. Raising his head, he saw a soft light. Suddenly through the light, he saw a young woman with long hair and a glowing face extend her hand to him.
Is that the angel that is supposed to come and take me to the beyond? Is that the light at the end of the tunnel?
The thought made him feel strangely relieved. Arsen wondered if this is what everyone who overdosed on drugs and was pronounced clinically dead for minutes talked about when they were resuscitated.
Is this how the story of Arsen Ford ends?
Arsen felt numb. Not remorseful, not content, but emotionless. He was surprised by his own lack of reaction, so he shut his eyes, willing himself to pass on to the other side.
“Hey?… Hey!” the woman shouted. Arsen opened his eyes and rubbed them gently. For an angel, her voice is kind of harsh. He’d expected an angel to have a silky voice, like that of a vintage harp.
“Hey!… Dammit. Lemme call the cops,” she shouted.
All of his senses came rushing back to him as he heard the word cops. In a split second, everything came back to him—rain—Ferrari, Jack Daniels—DUI. Fuck. He forced himself up and realized that he was partially trapped under the airbag that had deployed upon impact.
He stretched his hand out of the window and motioned for the woman to stop. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with cops. Especially when neither his manager nor his lawyer were present. He’d have to think on his feet for a way out of the situation.
“Help me.” He motioned for her to come closer and could sense her reluctance at this request. “Just open the door from the outside.” He tried to speak loudly. She was slender and Arsen wasn’t even sure if she could pull him out of the car if she had to.
Arsen cleared his throat and said out loud, “Just pull me out.” Through the streetlight that blinded him, he could see the woman reluctantly make her way toward him.
She slowly opened the door and he extended his hand toward her. It hurt as numb muscles awoke in his body.
“I’m not sure I can do this.” She hesitated. At least she was contemplating helping him.
“You can. Just take my hand and give a pull,” Arsen said with his eyes half closed. A long forgotten warmth curled through him as her hand clasped his. Arsen pushed against the steering wheel with his other hand and threw his body out of the car. With a thud he landed on the ground, right on top of the soft curvy body of the woman that he had mistaken for an angel.
His eyes looked into hers and Arsen studied her face as if she were the only thing he wanted to look at ever again. The distance between them was temptingly close, and there was heat in the air that was warmed by their bodies, moistened by the rain. Adrenaline spiked in his body, the intimacy of skin touching skin making the feeling unbearable.
She was all woman, a fiery petite storm, that turned slowly in his grasp. A bolt of desire rushed through him, igniting in him a long-forgotten fire, the scent of her feminine body encompassing his senses, and a thin nightgown all that laid between him and her body. For a moment Arsen forgot about it all, choosing instead to stare deep into the most expressive eyes that he had ever seen. Her hand pushing against his chest brought him back to the present. She was scowling.
“Hey!” Even though she was loud, Arsen could tell that under normal circumstances, she was a soft-spoken person. As a musician, he had come to notice such things about people. There was rarely a sound that escaped his trained ears. He rolled off of her, landing on the soft ground next to them.
The woman shot up like an arrow and stood stiffly, clearly not pleased with being trapped under him. Arsen just held up his hands in surrender, a wicked smile forcing its way to his lips. The woman just stood with her hands on her hips. Arsen composed his thoughts and readied himself to deal with the situation.
Dizziness threatened to overtake him as he stood up and looked around. He’d crashed the expensive Ferrari onto the peripheral wall of the house and there it lay, lodged right next to the small gate. Fuck, this is the last goddamn thing I need. Rage overcame him and he kicked the car hard. The pain that shot through his ankle was severe.
“Fuck.” He let out a loud grunt.
The only response he got was the sound of the car stereo kicking in. Strangers in the night, exchanging glances, sang Sinatra. The timing made him laugh. The irony of the situation was not lost on him.
Neither was the fact that by some miracle, he had escaped a big disaster today. Anything could’ve happened, but someone above was clearly watching out for me.
Although not a religious man, Arsen reluctantly thanked whichever power controlled the universe that he was still breathing. Strangely enough, he couldn’t recall the last time he had felt so alive.
“Should I call the ambulance? Or 911?” Her voice was softer this time, and it jolted Arsen out of his dizzy thoughts. It surprised him. Anyone else would’ve been scared after watching a half-drunk madman kick his trashed car. He knew that if he was going to get out of this mess, he needed her help.
Strangers in the night…
Arsen didn’t want to freak the girl out, but at the same time, the troubles that would come with a DUI would ruin everything. Even Don couldn’t hide that. He looked up and down the road for the presence of any paparazzi. Even they had given up against the torrential rain and stayed indoors.
He pulled out his phone to call his manager Don and grimaced when he saw that the battery was dead. Fuck. Don would’ve fixed this in a hot minute and no one would’ve known. It was just for such emergencies that he had memorized Don’s number by heart. No matter where he was in the world, he could count on Don to get him out of trouble. Too much was riding on Arsen and Insurrection for him not to.
Arsen felt his back pocket to see if his wallet was there, and thankfully it was. He probably had a couple of grand in there and could throw money at this girl to let it slide under the rug. He stole a glance at her. Stripped by the rainy cold, her face was pale and yet her bright eyes burned with a fiery courage that he rarely saw in people.
Or maybe she’s just pissed at me.
Arsen felt his legs wobble and realized that he had messed up his ankle, which seemed badly twisted.
“Can I come inside and make a phone call?” He showed the woman his dead cell phone. No reply. She just stood there, silently judging him, looking visibly uncomfortable. She stared at the wrecked car and looked around to see if anyone was watching. In the quietest part of quaint Montcove, no heads had poked out.
“I’ll just call someone who can come and help me out with this.” He was still trying to figure out if she knew who he was.
“Shouldn’t we just call 911?” She crossed her arms and seemed unsure about letting him in.
“I’d much rather we not. I’ve had a wee bit to drink.” He decided to come clean. “I’d appreciate your help. I promise you that this will be sorted out in no time at all.” Arsen hated to beg anyone for anything, but he had no choice. As a man who had spent his whole life fighting for scraps, he didn’t like resorting to it now that he was successful.
“Okay.” That was all she said as she turned around and walked back to the house.
Strangers in the night…
Arsen took one last look at the wrecked piece of machinery, took out the keys, and hobbled on behind her. He hoped she wouldn’t notice that he was checking out her ass on the way.
Chapter 4
The stranger was sitting silently for the last fifteen minutes and seemed lost in his own thoughts. Rory had shown him the phone in the living room and had hastily gone inside to get her own cell in case he did anything weird. She hated this disruption in the night and was very suspicious of the reluctance of this man to call 911, but she couldn’t possibly let him sit out there in the rain, cold and injured.
She stared at him from the hallway window that looked onto the outer living room and tried to judge what kind of a man he was. He didn’t look like a criminal or anything, not that they had all that many in Montcove. He seemed to be wearing expensive clothes, although he had an odd sense of style about him. A black leather jacket, worn over a white tee. A scarf sat loose around his neck, and he wore tight black jeans paired with black boots.
In the lamp light of the living room, she noticed the slight reflections of his rings and the big cross that he wore around his neck. Doesn’t seem to be a religious guy at all, but who am I to know? She could barely make out his facial features, but even then she could tell that he had a strong, chiseled jawline under the close beard, and his thick, neck-length hair sat handsomely on his tall frame.
For a moment she even felt bad for him as she sensed the torment in his expression. But he had disturbed her nightly routine, wrecked the back wall of the house, and had acted like a raging lunatic.
As she thought of him landing on top of her earlier, Rory realized that it was the most exciting thing that had happened to her in all of her time at Montcove. The heat between them was unmistakable, colored by the scent of his aftershave, wet leather, and the intimate fragrance of pure man.
The desire that had crept into her core had terrified her as his broad shoulders hovered over her frame. His masculinity overwhelmed her. She was reminded of what it felt like to be attracted to a man, even for a fleeting moment. Although this attraction was stronger than anything she’d felt. He was a man who needed no comforting, and yet she had somehow felt inclined to do just that for him. To her, he seemed like a man with weight on his heart.
He raised his head as she walked back into the living room. The table lamp lit the hard set to his jaw, tendons flexing in his neck.
“I’m… I can’t seem to recall the number that I want to dial.” He had a low urgency in his voice.
“You’re not from around here, I guess.”
“No, I’m not. Just visiting. But I know someone who can help. Except I can’t recall his number.”
Rory figured the man was still in shock and was trying to come to terms with the fact that he was still alive. She was surprised at that too. The outer wall of the house was sturdy, and yet the car had rammed a hole in it, almost all the way through. Barely anything was left of the front part of that Ferrari. It was a miracle that this guy had simply walked away from the wreckage.
It then occurred to Rory that she didn’t even know his name.
“I’m Rory.” She expected a response, but he just stared at her, as if pausing the thoughts in his mind to examine her. Rory steadied herself by putting a hand on the couch, her pulse suddenly speeding up. The phrase Greek god came into her mind.
“I’m Arsen.” His eyes met hers and for the first time, she realized how dark they were. To say that Arsen was handsome wouldn’t be right. He was attractive, in a rugged, manly way. She felt her body respond as her eyes went over the close beard that shadowed his jaw, giving him a hard look.
He squinted under his angular eyebrows when he spoke, completely oblivious to the lust that he sparked.
“Is there a cab service that I can call?”
“In Montcove? Are you kidding me?” she replied nervously, immediately feeling self-conscious at being so jumpy.
Arsen was silent again. Contemplating things in his head it seemed.
“I’ll compensate you for the damage to your wall. Here…” He got up to his feet, but then grunted and sat back down on the sofa with a thump and held his ankle with a grimace on his face.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a twisted ankle.”
What else did you expect when you kicked the car? she retorted in her mind, but she could guess that this injury was more than just a twisted ankle judging by the pain on his face. Still, she was clueless on how to handle this situation, eager as she was to get this stranger out of her house.
“I hate to ask you for help, but it seems I have no other choice.” He stared directly into her eyes, and for the first time perhaps she saw a hint of helplessness and… contempt. The kind you see in the face of a man who usually has everything done his way. He spoke up again before she could reply.
“We’re gonna need someone who can tow away that car. I can’t leave it out like that. Do you know someone who can do that?”
Rory remained silent. Is he asking me or commanding me? She wondered if she should just call 911 and be done with all of this.
“Look I’ll reimburse you for this, and for your trouble.” Arsen pulled out his wallet and slammed what looked like about a thousand dollars on the couch. Rory was forced to weigh her options. This is a lot of money and all this man is asking for is a little help. There’s no harm in this, right? She bit her lip.
Rory sat down on the arm of the couch across from him and crossed her arms. Her heart tightened at the stark anguish that flashed on his face.
“I know a mechanic who could do this for you, but I am sure it would take a considerable payout for him to come at this hour.”
“Don’t worry about that. Would you be able to call him now?” Arsen asked in a deep voice that sent chills running down her spine. She nodded and pulled out her cellphone. You are too nice, Rory, too nice.
Walking out to the other room, she decided to call Mike, the mechanic. She certainly would feel calmer if he were around. Considering she had never asked him for help, it didn’t take her much effort to convince Mike to come. Rory chose not to tell him all the details.
It didn’t take long for Mike to arrive either. Once Arsen explained the situation to him calmly, Mike, in his own quiet way, seemed to understand. Clearly, the man had seen a thing or two like this before. Arsen handed him the keys to the Ferrari and five hundred in hundred-dollar bills. Arsen obviously wanted Mike to keep his mouth shut about the incident. Luckily for Arsen, Mike wasn’t the kind of guy that would randomly shoot his mouth off.
Besides, Mike perhaps was excited at the idea of repairing a Ferrari and racking up a tall bill.
“Would you happen to have an iPhone charger?” Arsen asked, once Mike had left.
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”
“Dammit! For the life of me, I can’t seem to recall the phone number of anyone I know.” Arsen’s rough voice reeked of frustration.
“Shouldn’t you see a doctor?”
“No. No need for that,” Arsen said, harshly interrupting her. “If you can just bring me some ice and a painkiller of some sort… that’d be fine.” Arsen let out a sigh and sat back on the sofa. Jeez, be more arrogant, she thought.
By the time she found the meds, the ice pack, and got back to the living room, Arsen had already passed out and was asleep on the couch. The thousand dollars lay right where he had left it, along with his wallet. Rory walked up to him and nudged him gently, but the man was in a deep slumber.
His face was calm, devoid of the heat that she had seen in his eyes before. Her hands instinctively reached out to brush his long hair off of his face, but she quickly stopped herself. At close quarters, this man didn’t seem as intimidating as before but endearingly human and vulnerable. Even while asleep, his presence was enormous.
The idea of a strange man sleeping in her house annoyed her, but how could she throw an injured man out on the road? Especially one as handsome as this. What’s the worst he can do? Steal something? Besides what is there to steal? And he just threw down more cash than I’ve ever seen.
After running the situation in her mind for a few minutes, Rory decided that this Ferrari-driving playboy wasn’t in a state to do her any harm. She decided to leave the ice pack and the medicine on the side table next to him.
Safety first, she thought as she locked the door from the inside of the house so that the only area accessible to him would be the outer living room and the porch. Then she decided to head to bed herself. All this activity had been stressful, and she felt mentally exhausted.
And her body was curious as well. As she thought about him laying on top of her in the road, the sheer nearness of him, there was a burst of tingling heat through her core. It was unsettling since she hadn’t felt that way about a man in ages. She tried her best to thrust the intrusive thoughts out of her mind, but couldn’t. When her fingers started to wander, she knew she had to let them, or she wouldn’t get any sleep that night at all.
Rory found herself imagining all kinds of scenarios with the strange man, and half hated herself for it, but at the same time, he was the most attractive man she’d seen in ages—even hotter than the guys on the beach at spring break.
Chapter 5
Rory overslept by at least an hour. As the first light of the morning hit her, shining through the drapes she’d forgotten to close the night before, Rory forced her eyes open and stretched her legs.
Another day at the shop. Another day with Lizzy. Another day with…
Rory shot up from the bed as the events of last night came rushing back to her. The red Ferrari, the hole in the wall, and the hot stranger with a sprained ankle.
She threw on a robe. Voices coming from below reached her ears as she climbed down the stairs. Rory was secretly hoping to discover that the man had left on his own so she could resume life as usual.
But then, who would fix the wall?
