by Alexa Riley
She gives me a nod and taps her watch. It’s our signal to wrap it up. She then turns back to her guy.
“Are you leaving?”
Looking up to him, I smile. “It appears so.”
“Give me your number.”
It’s another demand. There’s no question about his approach. He’s obviously used to getting what he wants. I look around hesitantly, trying to come up with a good excuse not to.
“If I ask your friend over there, will she give it to me?”
My smile is smug when I look over at Paige and back to him. “Not a chance.”
Paige is always keeping guys at a distance from me, saying that I need to wait on the right one and not waste time on losers in college. She was right in saying that most of the guys in college were snobs, and maybe this guy is, too. But never giving myself the opportunity to make a mistake when it comes to men has left me sheltered and inexperienced at twenty-three. I want this guy to disappear, but at the same time I don’t.
Looking back to him, I see him reaching into his pocket and taking out his phone. He stands there waiting, and I decide to give in.
Letting out a huff, I ramble off my number, thinking there’s no way he can hear it over this noise. I don’t even know this guy. Why would he want to call me? Obviously, I’m not trying to go home with him, so I’m not a sure thing, and that’s all any guy in this place is looking for.
Paige walks over as he puts his phone away, and she looks between the two of us.
“You ready?”
“Yeah. I’m right behind you,” I say as I watch her walk toward the exit.
Looking into his sapphires, I’m lost again. It’s like being in the center of a tornado. Only I don’t know if he’s the wind that’s going to wreak havoc, or if he’s the calm in the middle that will hold me steady.
He reaches out and runs the edge of his knuckles along my jaw, as if testing the softness of my skin.
“I wanted more.” I can barely hear the words, but I catch them.
I don’t know what he means, and I’m not sure how to respond. Instead, I’m frozen in place as he touches me. I should tell him to stop, or walk away, but something about him is mesmerizing, and I can’t stop myself from leaning into it.
“She’s waiting.”
I look over to see Paige leaning against the wall, watching us, and I know I should go.
He drops his hand and takes a step away, smiling at me like before. It’s an easy smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s something there, something I can’t read, but I want to. I have this need to know everything about this stranger.
Taking a deep breath, I walk a few steps away from him, breaking the spell. Once I’ve cleared away the fog, I’m more like myself. I turn back to see he’s watching me, and this time the smile hits his eyes.
Once we get outside, my phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I pull it out to see if it’s him. Paige pulls me into a cab and tells the driver the address as I read the text.
You tasted sweeter than I ever imagined.
I’m buzzed with excitement while texting him back.
What do I call the man behind the curtain?
I smile as I wait for his response.
OZ.
Chapter Three
Mallory
* * *
Sunday night, I pick up my phone again, checking to see if I have any new messages, and disappointment hits me again. This is worse than waiting for grades to be posted in college.
“Don’t chase, Mal,” Paige says, not even looking up from her laptop. We’d finally gotten everything unpacked and settled in, and we decided to spend the rest of the night vegging out while studying and ordering Chinese food. Neither of us had the energy to cook because it would mean going to the store, which we still haven’t done. You’d think after living in a dorm for four years we’d be excited about having a kitchen, but takeout is too damn easy.
“What? I was checking my emails,” I protest, quickly pulling up my emails like she can see my phone or something.
“Sure. And I’m not cruising Tumblr over here.”
I roll my eyes because she’s right. I was checking my text messages. He hasn’t texted me since Friday night. I should get back to reading up on Osbourne Corp, learning all I can, but I keep clicking our text messages to see if there’s something new, and then reading the last one he sent on Friday.
OZ.
I drop my phone next to me and pick up a textbook and read over the highlights I’ve made. I’ve read them so many times I think I can recite them at this point. I last about ten minutes.
“But isn’t it my turn to text back?” I pick my phone up and hold it out, showing her that he texted me last. Maybe I was supposed to say something back. I’m not good at this dating thing, seeing as I’ve never really done it before.
She sets her laptop down next to her on the couch and bends over, looking at my phone screen. She studies it for a long moment, like she’s mulling it over.
“If you want to text him, text him,” she finally says, leaning back on the sofa and going back to playing around on her laptop. “Not like you can read those books anymore. They look like they are about to fall apart,” Paige teases me about my worn books.
“Really?” I ask again. That’s not what I thought she’d say. Paige is not about dating. At least, she wasn’t when we were in college. I’d thought about doing it a few times, when I’d been asked out, but I ended up siding with her because I wanted to stay focused. School was the most important thing, and I had the rest of my life to date. I must be more excited about the prospect of dating than I thought, because the first guy to show me attention, I’m already pining after. And Oz is definitely not someone I should be chasing. I’ve seen guys like him in action. I went to school with them. They think money can buy anything, and they burn through girls like I burn through ninety-nine-cent ebook sales. I hate to judge him before I even know him, but a girl has to be smart. He probably thought when he flashed his American Express card it would have me desperate to crawl all over him. I wasn’t impressed. Like being in a museum—look at all the pretty, expensive things, but whatever you do, don’t touch.
“Yeah, why not? I mean, don’t chase the guy or anything. Make him do the work, but if you want to send him a text, do it. He was cute.”
I stare at her. “Is this like the Body Snatchers or something? You said the word cute and you’re encouraging me to talk to some guy.”
“Fine. Whatever. Don’t text him,” she says defensively.
“Paige, I’m teasing.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Just a lot on my mind.” Her shoulders drop a little, her auburn hair falling in her face. She scoops it up, pulling it into a ponytail out of her way.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really, just going through emails and weighing my options on what I want to do next.”
I let it go. Paige will talk when she’s ready. She’s not someone you make good progress with if you push.
“So,” I say, trying to change the subject to something lighter, and her eyes narrow at my tone. “Who was the hunk you were talking to on Friday? Did you get his number?”
“No. I’d be surprised if he even knows how to work a phone,” she growls, clearly agitated about the guy.
“That’s some serious aggression you got going on for such a short conversation.”
“Let’s say we have history, something else I really don’t want to talk about.” She shuts her laptop and places it on the coffee table before pulling the pink blanket over herself and turning on the TV above the fireplace.
She’s been off since Friday night, and maybe that guy has something to do with it. I would kill to know what history they have. I’ve never seen Paige give a guy the time of day before. She seems m
ore annoyed with men than anything.
Lying down myself, I pull out my phone and debate what to text, but my phone vibrates before I can come up with something to say.
Oz: I’ve spent the weekend thinking about you.
My heart flutters. I look over at Paige, who quickly looks away from me.
Me: I’m sure you have better things to do than spend your whole weekend thinking about me.
Oz: That’s where you’re wrong, sweet Mallory.
Me: Such a charmer.
I wonder if these are lines he uses on women. I debate asking Paige to read the messages, but decide against it. Keep it fun and light, I remind myself.
Oz: Seems you bring it out in me.
Me: What did you really spend your weekend doing?
Oz: Aside from thinking about you, I worked. Always working.
Me: You found your way out to have a little fun Friday.
Oz: Lucky I did, or I wouldn’t have gotten to see you, gotten a taste.
His words make goose bumps break out across my skin. I bite my lip, having no idea what to say to that.
Me: What are you doing right now?
Oz: Sitting in my office. I finally broke. I thought you’d text me. I tried to hold out, but I couldn’t last.
Me: Sorry, been busy. Unpacking and all.
Oz: Just move?
Me: Yep! Brand-new to this whole New York thing. It’s a little scary but also exciting.
Oz: You have to let me show you around.
I wonder if he’s asking to be friendly, or maybe he’s suggesting a date... I look over at Paige, who is now sleeping. I remind myself of her words. Don’t chase.
Me: Are you asking me out on a date?
I send the text and regret it immediately. Maybe I should have done, like, a winky face or something so it’s more of a tease. Grr.
Oz: Call it anything you want as long as you agree to come.
Me: I’ll think about it.
I wonder whether I should go out with a random man I met for five minutes at a bar, but that’s what dating is, right? Not like I’m agreeing to go to his place or something. We could meet somewhere. Talk a little. Maybe I can try to see how genuine he is. He seems sweet. Too sweet maybe, like maybe it’s a game.
Oz: Fair enough. Think about it over something to eat with me.
Me: LOL. When?
Oz: Now.
Wow, that seems really fast. Here I was wanting him to text me and now he wants to do something right this second. It’s all a game, I tell myself. He’s looking to get laid. I decide to be blunt and to the point. I’m sure that’s what Paige would want me to do if I showed her the messages.
Me: I’m not going to sleep with you.
Oz: Sweet Mallory, sleeping is the last thing I want to do with you.
I clench my phone in my hand, hating that I was right. The disappointment is too strong for the short time I’ve known him. Hell, known isn’t even the right word because I don’t know him. How can he already be taking up so much of my head space? Head space that I should have somewhere else right now. Tomorrow is one of the biggest days of my life. That’s where my mind should be. Not here, flirting on the phone with someone who wants in my panties. His words irritate me, and I don’t like the presumption.
Me: Cocky much? I don’t like cocky.
Oz: It’s not cocky. It’s true.
I take a deep breath and think about my next words.
Me: Sorry, Oz, but I don’t think this will work. I’m not that kind of girl. You’re a hot guy. I’m sure you can dial someone up and get a hookup if you want.
I send the words with confidence. That’s that. But I can’t stop myself from staring at the phone, waiting for a message to come. Minutes tick by and nothing.
Frustrated with myself, I click the sound off my phone before getting up from the couch and scooping up my books and folders. I make my way to my room, tossing the phone and everything onto the bed before grabbing a pillow and taking it back out to the living room and putting it under Paige’s head. I cover her up more with the blanket and turn off the TV.
I go back to my bedroom, strip off my clothes and jump into the shower, running through my nightly routine. Trying to keep myself from checking my phone, I blow-dry my hair, then go and pick out something to wear tomorrow.
I’m worried that what I have won’t work. This seems like the one place I’m lacking at the moment and it’s driving me a little crazy that I might come up short here. I can study my ass off but do I look like I belong? New York City is so glamorous, and everyone seems to have the nicest things. I got all my work clothes from Macy’s, maxing out a credit card because I needed them. And here I stand, still thinking they won’t be up to par. Even the price tags at Macy’s made me cringe. If only Paige and I wore the same size. I could borrow some of her stuff. But she’s pint-size. Luckily, we have the same size feet, so I do get to steal her shoes.
After deciding on a gray pencil skirt and a soft pink blouse, I move to Paige’s room to dig through her shoes. I grab a pair of tan shoes with a lower heel, not knowing how much I’ll be on my feet tomorrow. Once I’ve got everything set out, I grab my laptop and take it to bed with me. I want to refresh myself a little more with the Osbourne Corp before tomorrow. I already know a ton about the company since they were the ones that gave me my scholarships, but I just want a quick update in case someone asks me something tomorrow about their current numbers.
Pulling back the covers, I climb into bed and grab my phone. I finally do what I’ve been wanting to do for the last hour. I unlock the screen and see three text messages and four missed calls. All from Oz. Holy shit.
Oz: So you think I’m hot?
I roll my eyes at the first text.
Oz: I want you because I know you’re not that type of girl. This might surprise you, but I’m not that type of guy. Like I told you. All I do is work. Give this a chance. I’ll show you.
Oz: Mallory, please answer me.
The calls came shortly after the text messages. I don’t know what to make of all this. He’s coming on strong. Part of me likes it, but another part of me is scared. Oz could probably steamroll right over me and my heart.
The phone vibrates in my hand, making me jump. Oz’s name flashes across the screen, and I debate answering it. After only a millisecond of hesitation, I cave.
“Hello.”
“Mallory.” He says my name like he’s utterly relieved.
“Oz.” I seem to only be able to speak in monosyllables. I’m not sure what else to say.
“Don’t do that to me.”
“Do what?” I ask, having no idea what he is talking about.
“Tell me you’re done, and then not respond. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain what I meant.” His voice is desperate.
“I’m sorry, it’s just...”
He cuts me off. “Promise me you’ll never do that again. You’ll give me a chance to explain.”
I laugh. “I didn’t say I was giving you a chance.”
“You answered the phone.”
He’s got me there. I did. I could have just ignored him and then blocked his number.
“Is this just about sex?” I push, wanting to know.
“No, Mallory, this is about so much more.”
Could he be telling the truth?
“Promise me,” he says again, and I give in. I have this need to give him what he wants.
“I promise.” For some reason, it’s like I’m promising more than what is being said.
I hear him sigh with relief into the phone. “Are you in bed?”
My heart does that stupid flutter thing again. Maybe I should get that checked out.
“Yes.” I blush and snuggle down into the blankets.
/> “My sweet Mallory.”
I should tell him that I’m not his, but I kind of like the way it sounds. It makes me feel nice, which is scary because it should probably make me run.
Wanting to break the silence, I try to come up with something that doesn’t have the potential for innuendo.
“I start a new job tomorrow. It’s my first day working at Osbourne Corp. Have you heard of it?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”
I expect him to say more, but he doesn’t. Normally when I mention Osbourne to people, they just rattle on and on about it.
“I’ll let you sleep,” he says, not offering up any more conversation. It’s strange. He’s already so familiar, yet he’s a total stranger. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Oz.”
“Sweet dreams, baby.”
Chapter Four
Mallory
* * *
I wake up before my alarm goes off. I’m excited for the day. I had a weird dream last night about sapphire-blue eyes and being lost in a maze. I don’t think I need a psychologist to translate that for me.
Reaching over to my bedside table, I check my phone and see I have a text message.
Oz: Good luck on your first day. You should wear your hair up.
I raise an eyebrow, wondering what kind of request that is. My hair is kind of short, just coming to my shoulders, but I could pin it up if I wanted to. I don’t text back, unsure of what to say—Thanks, but I’ll do what I want?
I get out of bed, put my phone on my dresser and begin getting ready. I pull on a pale pink lace bra and matching panties. I need some confidence today. Paige gave me an outrageous gift card to Victoria’s Secret for my birthday this year, and I went crazy in the underwear department. It’s weird, but having something sexy on under my clothes gives me the sense of being a superhero.
After I slip on my skirt and blouse, I walk to the vanity in my bathroom and put on some makeup. It’s nothing too heavy, but I want to look polished. I’ve got time, so when I’m done, I decide to pin my hair up. Completely my own decision and nothing to do with Oz’s request. At least, that’s what I keep chanting over and over in my mind.
