by Kallysten
He frowned, and said that one word again, a little louder, the weight of it pressing on my mind and body.
“Breathe.”
I shook my head. Tried to say, ‘I can’t’ but all that came out was a wheezy, “Ca… can…”
My knees were weakening. I couldn’t stand anymore, not even with his support. I folded down to the floor of the balcony, and he crouched next to me, never letting go.
His frown deepened a little more and his nostrils flared. I was taken by the crazy thought that he was angry with me not for being rude to him but for failing to follow his order. I was seconds away from blacking out when his eyes suddenly widened and he hissed out a name like a curse.
“Lilah.”
I blinked a few times, trying to clear my vision, but his features were fading.
“You came with her, didn’t you? What did she say? It’s important. Try hard to tell me what she said to you.”
I tried. I really did. It took every last ounce of strength and energy I had left and the words were little more than mumbles.
“Nice… you… be nice.”
“She told you to be nice? Be nice to me? Is that it?”
I tried to blink yes, but couldn’t manage to open my eyes again. My ears were buzzing. He was saying something, but his words were lost to me. Even the sirens of a police car driving right under the balcony felt distorted.
I started slipping into darkness, but he pulled me back. With the most delicate of touches, he peeled my eyelids back. His face, his eyes filled my vision. He was close enough to kiss me and my last thought was that he might try to give me CPR.
Something gleamed in his eyes, attracting my attention, and I fell into his gaze, into his mind, really. Or maybe he entered mine. I’m still not completely sure how it works, I just know that time came to a standstill and when it started again I was back inside the mansion, pushing the drapes away with one hand and slipping out onto the balcony.
“Oh,” I said when the man leaning against the balustrade looked back at me. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll just…”
I started turning away, but a warm murmur stopped me.
“It’s all right, you don’t have to go.”
I recognized the deep, chocolate and whiskey voice right away.
“You’re… you’re Mr. Ward, aren’t you?”
He tilted his head as he looked at me.
“I am. But I’m sorry to say I have no idea who you are.”
My heart stammered at the apologetic smile he offered me. “Oh, of course not. We’ve never met. I’m Angelina. Happy birthday.”
Without thinking, I held my hand out to him. He pushed away from the balustrade and turned fully toward me, transferring his cigarette to his left hand. He didn’t shake my hand. Instead, he took it and brought it to his lips for a touch to my knuckles so light I barely even felt it.
“And how did you come to be invited to my party? Not that I mind. This place can always use more beauty.”
Heat suffused my cheeks and for a second I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to answer coherently. When I met his eyes again, though, I was drawn in and the words just flowed out.
“I accompanied your sister.”
He nodded, and with a gesture invited me to come closer to the balustrade with him. Something gleamed at his wrist, attracting my eyes: a cufflink. It was a finely cut square stone, so bright that even in the poor light it was still brilliantly red. It was breathtaking.
And so was he. Not that I was looking. Much.
Oh, all right, who am I kidding? For months I’d read all I could about Mr. Ward, and had never so much as seen a picture of him. Now that I was in front of him, it was hard to look away.
He’d taken his tuxedo jacket off, and his shirt was fitted close enough to his body that it revealed every curve of his shoulders and arms, every hard plane of his chest. His face, pale in the darkness, was a study of angles and shadows, strong and masculine with a bold nose and sensuous lips. And his eyes… I couldn’t see much of them, but I already knew they were as dark as bottomless wells.
Eyes someone could fall in forever, and the thought troubled me, somehow making it hard to breathe.
“Do you work with her, then?” he asked.
Should I tell him the truth? Working with Miss Delilah sounded a lot better, a lot more interesting than working for her. And still… I didn’t want to lie to him, even with a small play on semantics. I don’t like lying as a rule, and it felt important not to lie to him.
“I work for her, actually. I’m her personal assistant.”
He took a deep drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke away from me. It was very considerate of him, although unnecessary. My fingers itched for a cigarette.
“You answer her phone, don’t you?” he said when he looked back toward me. “Your voice. I recognize it now. I always thought it was lovely. And now that I have a lovely image to go with it, I might have to call Lilah more often.”
I wasn’t simply blushing anymore. I was burning. And I had no idea what to reply. So I just looked on at the park on the other side of the street and said, “The view is beautiful.”
As soon as the words passed my lips, I wanted to kick myself. Could I have come up with something any more banal and boring than that? At least I wasn’t talking about the weather.
“It really is,” he murmured, and when I glanced toward him I noticed he was looking at me.
Self-combustion was moments away.
I looked away again and tried to find something, anything to talk about. My mind was blank. It didn’t help that from the corner of my eye I could see that his face was still turned toward me. A shiver coursed through me.
He dropped what was left of his cigarette in an empty flowerpot at his feet that seemed there just for that purpose, then picked up his jacket from the banister and slipped it on my shoulders. And they say chivalry is dead.
I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but tell them from me that they’re wrong.
“Thank you,” I said with a small smile.
He smiled back and I started to melt.
“How come you’re out here when all your guests are inside?” I blurted out.
He shrugged. “I’m out here because my guests are inside. This party was never my idea.”
I remembered the invitation and what it’d said. I took an educated guess.
“Your sister’s idea?”
“It can be hard to say no to her.”
I couldn’t help but laugh quietly at that. “Even harder when she doesn’t ask and just makes you do whatever she wants.”
He eyed me at that, his expression oddly assessing. “Indeed. You seem to know that from personal experience.”
I did, and it had nothing to do with my job.
“Two hours ago, I thought she was coming to your party alone,” I said. “And here I am.”
He raised an amused eyebrow at me. “And you just happened to have such a beautiful dress ready on the off chance you’d have a high society party to go to?”
My heart jumped at the word beautiful, and I had to point out to myself that he’d called the dress beautiful, not me. Still, it was the third compliment he offered me—not that I was counting. I hadn’t received much of those in the past couple of years; since my last break up. I’d missed it. And I’d missed that look in a man’s eyes.
You know that look, don’t you? The one that takes your breath away and makes you weak in the knees. The one that says if he wasn’t a complete gentleman he’d be quite happy to ravage you right here, right now, and make you pass out from pleasure before starting all over again.
Yeah, that look.
“Your sister, again,” I said, and my voice was a little rough. “She had everything planned.”
With a low chuckle, he shook his head and looked down at the park again. “Oh, I’m sure she did, yes. As usual.”
He made it sound like a joke, but I had no idea what the punch line was. I wanted to know.
I wanted him to tell me—to say anything, just as long as he kept talking.
“I don’t mean to pry, but… What do you mean?”
His eyes were as dark as the night around us. He considered me for a little while before inclining his head.
“I guess you have a right to know. Lilah…” He sighed. “She happens to know I’ve been on my own for a long time. And she also knows that I have… a type, I guess, you could say.”
My mouth dried up. “A type. You mean, a type of women you like?”
He nodded but didn’t say anything, leaving me to finish that thought.
“You have a type,” I said slowly. “And I’m it?”
When he nodded again, I gulped. Now I could understand better why Miss Delilah had brought me along tonight, dressed me up, done my hair and make-up. I didn’t know whether to be flattered she thought I could interest her brother or insulted she’d taken me with her as a treat for him.
I suddenly remembered the invitation, and the repeated admonition. No gift, Mr. Ward had written.
It seemed to me that Miss Delilah had ignored his request. She’d even wrapped the gift herself in the finest fabrics.
Stunned speechless, I could only stare at him. For a second or two, he smiled, but soon the curve of his lips took a bitter tint.
“Sorry,” he said, turning around to lean back against the balustrade. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Lilah says I’m not always the most tactful of men.”
“Well, she’s the one who brought me as a gift so maybe tact is not her strongest suit either.”
He let out a quick, surprised laugh, but of the two of us I was definitely the most startled. I had just badmouthed my boss. Well, maybe not badmouthed, but… said something unflattering, definitely. I’d never done that before. I’d never even had a bad thought about her. Granted, she could be demanding at times, but she’d never asked me for anything I had a problem with. This…
I didn’t know how I felt about this yet.
Unflattering or not, my words were definitely true. Even Mr. Ward didn’t try to deny it.
“I hope you had a good time, at least,” he said. “Unless you hiding out here means you didn’t?”
As conflicted as I was about Miss Delilah’s intentions, Mr. Ward had been nothing but gracious to me, and I almost stammered as I hurried to answer.
“No! Of course I did. It’s a great party. You have a beautiful home. And your guests are really something.”
That same slightly bitter smile was back on his lips.
“My guests, yes,” he murmured, then raised his voice again as he asked, “Would you be surprised to know that I could walk in there, go from room to room, and other than Lilah and my staff few would have a clue who I am?”
I wasn’t surprised. I was astonished. Also, confused.
“That can’t be possible.” I couldn’t help but frown at him. “You’re one of the most famous people in New York. Everyone has been talking about this party for months. Of course people have to know you.”
Even as I finished, I realized that yes, it was possible. After all, I hadn’t known what he looked like, and I not only worked for his sister, I had also been tracking every bit of news about this party.
“I am famous, yes. Famous for my money. Can you imagine how tiring it is to constantly fend off people who only see dollar signs when they look at me?”
“I’m not sure I can,” I admitted. “But I’ve seen how people are with Miss Delilah. It must be very lonely.”
His head jerked back. My answer had surprised him. “Lonely?” he repeated. “You think Lilah is lonely? She’s the very definition of a social butterfly.”
I shrugged, vaguely uncomfortable. I felt a little guilty about talking with someone else about my employer. But it wasn’t just anyone. It was her brother. So that made it okay, didn’t it? At least, that’s what I told myself.
“I think many people orbit around her,” I said. “I also think there aren’t many she cares for. Any of them could disappear tomorrow and she might not even notice.”
He looked at me for a long time, and I couldn’t help but shudder under that unforgiving stare. What did he see, when he looked at me? Another gold digger?
“You’re in her orbit as well,” he finally said. “Would she notice if you disappeared?”
As a matter of fact, I had asked myself the same question before. And I’d had the beginning of an answer when I’d caught the flu the previous winter. I had returned after four days thinking I’d find a mountain of mail on my desk and a hundred urgent emails waiting for an answer: signs that I was needed.
My desk had been in perfect order. All correspondence, paper or electronic, dealt with. It was as though I hadn’t missed a day of work. Miss Delilah hadn’t even asked me if I felt better, like I hadn’t been away for the best part of a week.
“She might be a little inconvenienced,” I said, turning back to the park. “But only because she’d need to interview potential PAs and train them.”
Why, yes, it had been a rather unpleasant experience to realize just how much she did not need me, do you really have to ask? Everyone likes to know their work is appreciated. I enjoyed my job. I prided myself on doing it well. I’d have liked it even more if Miss Delilah had depended on me at least a little. I guess the point is moot now anyway.
Mr. Ward must have noticed the turn my mood had taken, because he rested a hand on my shoulder. Even through the fabric of his jacket, I could feel the gentleness of his touch. It was reflected in his words when he murmured, “Something tells me she’s not the only one who’s lonely.”
I looked at him and gave him a half smile. “Funny. I was going to say the same thing.”
Once again, he smiled back, and his smile looked just how I felt at that moment: a little sad, a little bittersweet, a little resigned.
And a lot like he was pleading for warmth and comfort.
I don’t know why I did it.
Honestly, I’m not the kind of girl who just kisses a guy on the first date before she even knows if he likes her. For that matter, it wasn’t even a date. Add to that what he’d said about people who only saw money when they looked at him… Kissing him was probably the worst possible thing to do right then.
But I did.
I turned fully toward him, tilted my head up and leaned in, so slowly that he had plenty of time to move back. He didn’t. His eyes widened a little, and they dropped to my mouth for a second before locking with my eyes again. I crossed the last inch and laid my lips upon his. At first, it could hardly be called a kiss at all, just a touch, no stronger than the touch of his hand on my shoulder. Companionship. Comfort. Closeness.
Just simply human contact.
Well... At least one of us was human.
His hand tightened a little. My heart beat as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. I don’t know which of us deepened the kiss. I just know that my eyes started closing, and the last thing I saw was his eyes closing as well.
His lips were cool and ever so soft; they parted, and the tip of his tongue met the tip of mine. A hint of cigarette lingered, but as I said I don’t exactly mind. That’s not what made me push harder against him, though. Actually, I’m not even sure I could explain it. There was something in the way he held me, with that single hand on my shoulder, tight but not too tight; in the delicate way he stroked my tongue and palate.
I almost want to call it a restraint, but it was more than that. It felt like this kiss, this touch he was giving me were little more than masks, like the mask he wore in there for his guests.
I didn’t want a mask. I didn’t want Mr. Ward, the dollar signs, the philanthropist and businessman.
I wanted the man who had come out onto that balcony to escape people who were nothing to him, and who had nonetheless tried to offer comfort to someone he didn’t know.
My arms wrapped around his neck to capture that man. I pressed my body against his, pushed him back against the window, deepened the kiss a l
ittle more… and the restraint broke. The man appeared. He kissed me back with the fierceness and heat of a thousand suns.
*
I was so caught up in the kiss that I didn’t notice when he reversed our positions, trapping me between the window and his body. His jacket slipped off my shoulders and joined my purse on the floor. I honestly couldn’t have cared less, not when his hands were clutching my waist, as possessive as though we’d been dating for years; not when his mouth devoured mine as if he’d die if he stopped—or maybe, I was the one who would die.
I couldn’t tell you how long it lasted, but I could say this simple kiss aroused me more than my last boyfriend’s weekly efforts at putting me ‘in the mood.’ The fact that those efforts, such as they were, came back like clockwork every Saturday night at nine… Let’s just say he wasn’t my boyfriend for very long.
I could also mention how hard his cock was, pressing against my upper thigh, and how much trouble I had keeping my hands around his shoulders. Don’t judge me. It’d been a long, long time with nothing more than my own hands and my trusted vibrator.
When he pulled back, I was breathless, lightheaded, and certain I would die if he didn’t kiss me again.
That idea somehow scared me for a second. I heard sirens down the street. Something felt very, very strange, like I was in a dream and so close to waking up that I knew it was a dream. Right then, I looked into his eyes and was trapped once more by his stare.
“Is that what you came here for?”
Although his words came out as a murmur, I thought I could hear a whole array of emotions behind them. Desire, but also wariness. Hope, drenched in fear. Or maybe they were my emotions I was projecting onto him.
“No,” I replied, still a little out of breath. “I never imagined… No. And if you want me to go, I will.”
“It might be best if you left, yes,” he said, but the way he caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers made his words entirely unconvincing. Also, his free hand still rested on my hip; with his body so close to mine, he was effectively blocking my way out. Talk about mixed signals…
