He wiped me gently and put my panties back on. All the while I watched him carefully. Looking for a sign, maybe proof that I could see that he was telling the truth about being a 150-year-old immortal.
“You’re staring at me funny.”
“Where did you learn to do that?”
He ducked his head, rubbed his neck, and grinned one of those sexy playboy grins. Not the empty mask one, but the one I could feel in my toes. “A brothel in London.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle as his cheeks took on a telling shade of pink. “Are you blushing? How old were you?”
He shrugged. “In my thirties, I think. I wanted to know how to please a woman. Most of my life I’d been learning about my own pleasure, never how to make a woman come. I wanted that power too.”
And he wielded it well. I let out a sigh and hopped off the desk. Once my skirt was back in place and I’d shoved his paperwork into a pile, I grabbed my scripts and stopped at the door. “Thank you.”
“Thank you?”
I tipped my chin to the desk and walked out. If I stayed any longer I’d see what else those prostitutes had taught him.
9
Dorian
My hands shook as she walked out, so I shoved them into my pockets hoping she didn’t catch it. Thank you? Was that a modern adaption, to say thank you after sex like she thanked me for buying dinner or pulling out a chair?
The taste and scent of her still lingered. I would never be able to look at my desk the same way again and her response was: thank you.
I took a long breath but all that came with it was the reminder of her. I tossed the cloth I held into the sink before washing my hands and face. There was no way anything would get done after that. I adjusted the hard-on still choking in my trousers and then slipped into my jacket.
When I stepped out of the office Mina ducked her head and stared studiously at the desk. She must have heard us. Perfect. Exactly what both Izzy and I needed. I left without saying a word. Anything I could say might just embarrass us both. Instead of seeking her out I went to the corner cafe and sat outside to watch for her. I wouldn’t follow her, but would ask to walk her home, so we might have a chance to talk about everything.
What did it mean? Did she believe me or did she simply want to get the end she was denied last night? I didn’t mind either way but what I didn’t like was not knowing where I stood, and everything between us was well into limbo at the moment.
I had no idea how long I sat there. The sun was beginning to set when some of the stage crew from the theater stopped into the cafe. I kept myself behind a newspaper. They all sat at a table nearby and chattered like hens.
I was ready to make a discreet exit when Izzy walked in. She rolled her eyes as she passed the chattering table and barely spared me a glance as I hunkered under the newspaper.
The table started up again once she went up to the counter. One girl leaned in to the other. “You know what I heard? That she’s sleeping with Mr. Gray.”
The blonde across the table looped herself into the conversation. “Maybe that’s how you get to be producer. I’d do anything that man wanted, and he doesn’t even have to give me a job.”
The first girl who spoke giggled behind her coffee. “I’ll give him a job.”
I let out a sigh but didn’t speak up. It wasn’t the first time a woman had spoken about me like that, and it wouldn't be the last. What ate at me was how they spoke about Izzy. She was a damn good employee and they had no right to insinuate her job had anything to do with me.
I took a deep breath, closed the paper, and snapped it in half. The blonde who’d been facing my direction sucked in a load of air and choked, causing her friends to look back.
I met the rowdy brunette’s eyes and waited for her to look away. They stayed quiet until I slipped between the tables and headed in the direction I knew Izzy would take. Hopefully the hens would go home before she came out. It took five more minutes for her to pass the doorway I’d been leaning on.
“Are you following me?” I called out.
She snorted into her coffee cup and pulled it away to wipe her lips. “Well you do have some pretty useful skills.”
“Like suave good looks and an excellently alphabetized library?”
That earned me another chuckle. “Amongst other things.”
“Can I walk you home?”
She ambled back and forth on the sidewalk kicking her foot. “I guess you can, as long as you know I won’t invite you up.”
“Of course. I just want a chance to talk a little bit.”
She didn’t answer but started toward her home and I fell in step beside her. The summer air was fragrant from nearby flowerbeds and the wind blew just on the good side of cool. It felt almost normal, meandering the Paris streets with her. Like we might be a couple.
But that wasn’t the case, as she kept reminding me.
“Can we start over?”
She glanced at me then back down the road. “Why do we need to start over? I didn’t think we needed a redo. I actually thought I was very clear about what this is or isn’t.”
My hands began to shake again and I put them in my pockets. “Yes, you were clear about what you wanted. But I’m a businessman and an excellent negotiator. And I want you.”
She jerked to a stop. “Say that again.”
“I want you.”
She took another swig of coffee and gave me a long look. One of those weighed and measured sort of looks that leave you feeling naked. “I would like to say yes but I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I swallowed the lump growing wider and wider in my throat. “Is it because I’m your employer?”
“That, and the whole immortal thing is a little much.”
This was one of the main reasons so few people knew about it. Relationships were definitely not improved by the knowledge.
And not exactly telling the truth had never been an option for me. I couldn’t pretend to want to spend forever with a woman when I knew it wasn’t going to be possible. I’d also never had the courage to attempt a family with my disability.
I let the disappointment roll through me. Let it sink in. That would help me get over this, I told myself. I’d latched onto Izzy giving me a chance and allowing me to right the wrongs of my past. To make up for Sibyl’s death. When I first saw her it had never occurred to me that she wouldn’t want me too.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
I realized we’d been standing silently for several minutes. “Nothing. Let me walk you home and I’ll be on my way.”
Her eyebrows drew together into a cute little crease right above the beautiful slope of her nose. I tried to memorize everything about her in case I couldn’t get this close again.
She shook her head and started walking. We went silent and my palms began to sweat more the closer we got to her door. As if that threshold would be the end for good.
“Does it scare you?”
Her question slapped me against the face but it was one I’d considered before, so I had the answer to dig out of my head. “Yes and no. I’m afraid of the life I don’t get to live because of it. I won’t allow myself to have children. I can’t...” I gestured at her. “Have real relationships. I’m basically waiting forever to die. In that sense it doesn’t scare me.”
She didn’t respond for a while. “And the evolution of the human race over the last 150 years, did that scare you?”
I considered that bigger question. “A lot of things have changed and a lot of things haven’t. There is still so much hate in the world, so much inequality. I do enjoy the internet though. And airplanes.”
“Airplanes are definitely a bonus. How did you travel around before?”
I had to think way back. “Horses, boats, that sort of thing.”
“Sounds inconvenient.”
“No more inconvenient than now. You still had to plan, buy tickets, pack, and leave. It just took longer to get everywhere.”
We wandered silently some more until I caught sight of her door closing in on us.
“I’m sorry about this afternoon,” she said, breaking the silence before we reached her building.”
We stopped and I met her eyes. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”
“Then why do I feel guilty?”
“I don’t know. You shouldn’t. You didn’t take anything I didn’t offer gladly.” I lowered my voice. “And would offer again should you wish.”
Her lips curled into a smile. “Maybe in another life, Gray, we can figure this whole thing out.”
I nodded and stepped closer, closing in to wrap my hands around her small waist. She met my eyes with a question but didn’t say anything.
“If this is the last of you I’m going to get, then I want you to remember it.”
I leaned down and brushed my lips against hers, softly and slowly. Then I ran my hands up the curve of her body to cup her cheeks and draw her into me. It took a second, but then I felt her entire body shudder in my hands and she let go, pressing into the kiss and leaving a nibble on my bottom lip. When I opened my eyes again we were both panting.
“Thank you,” I whispered. Echoing her words from earlier. Her cheeks, already flushed, went a deeper red before she turned from the cradle of my arms and entered her building.
I stayed until she was out of sight. This wasn’t the last time I’d see her, but if I cared about her I’d keep my distance. Her career meant a lot to her. I would protect it, and in doing so would protect her as well.
I walked home instead of calling Michael, trying to clear my head.
When I got inside I felt that familiar indifference rising up in my chest threatening to choke me. I’d been content with it for so long, now that I’d felt the pure honey of hope and longing for the first time in years, I didn’t know if I could go back to that box. That tiny box where the world couldn’t get in.
I stood in the middle of my living room and stared at the books. Now they only reminded me of what I didn’t have.
A flash of something struck me. An incendiary grenade to the rib cage. I swept my hand along the first shelf I could reach and dragged the books to the floor. Beautiful antiques and first editions, and I didn’t care. I didn’t want to look at them anymore.
It was as if losing Sibyl a second time had shown me I wasn’t meant to live in this world.
I should have died years ago. Decades ago.
Maybe it was time to figure out how.
10
Izzy
When I got inside I stripped to my underwear and climbed into bed. The soft comforter and sheets cocooned me in silence and I felt like I could breathe for the first time all day—the first time in the last few days, even.
The first thought that came to my head was Gray. Maybe I’d been too hard on him. Or maybe I hadn’t given him a proper chance.
The other part of my brain told me to lock it up, that he and I had only been seeing each other for a few days. I shouldn’t feel like I owed him anything. I didn’t.
And yet, this guilt ate at me from the inside, turning my belly and the coffee I’d drunk into a rolling drum on the back of a concrete truck.
The longing for home hit me hard. For the first time since I’d arrived to work in Paris, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed in my own apartment in New York. I wanted the Chinese food smells to drift into my window and to get too drunk too early at Sunday brunch. I wanted Jake. Damn, I wanted Jake to wrap me up in his big arms and let him tell me everything would be all right, even if we both knew it was a lie.
We were good at that, lying to save each other.
I don’t know how long I stayed that way, curled up in my blankets longing for my brother like a little girl. It was dark before the growl in my stomach forced me out of bed to the kitchen.
I poured some corn flakes in a bowl and doused them with milk and a couple teaspoons of sugar before hiking myself up onto the cold granite to eat.
I’d forgotten I sat my phone there and when I opened the screen I found a missed call from an unknown number and two text messages.
I opened the text:
Excuse me for texting you Miss. This is Michael, Mr. Gray’s driver. Can you come to his flat immediately? I’m downstairs now and can take you as soon as you are ready.
Crap. I checked the time. He’d only sent it ten minutes ago. I went to the window and sure enough, he was at the curb.
If Gray thought he could summon me like some sort of...well, whatever, he had another thing coming.
I sat the bowl in the sink and padded to my room to get dressed. Another soft pair of leggings and my favorite Captain America T-shirt this time. I grabbed my keys and phone and went to meet Michael.
Once I got outside he rushed to open the door. “Getting faster Michael, but for the record I’m only going so I can tell him off in person.”
“Tell him off?”
“If he thinks he can just summon me, he’ll soon learn something about my fist.”
“He didn’t summon you, Miss. I'm the one who texted you. He didn’t ask for you.”
I stopped as I began to climb in the car and braced my hand on the doorframe. “What? Why? Start talking, Mikey.”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
He gently pushed the door to urge me inside and closed it behind me. In record time we made it to Gray’s building and Michael escorted me all the way to his door.
Memories of the last time I’d been here started to filter in but I pushed past them and went inside.
The apartment was dark, Michael stayed in the hall as I closed the door behind me. The only light came in from the street through the windows, and even then we were mostly too high up for it.
I felt along the wall for a light switch and flipped it as soon as my hand brushed its ridged surface.
The room washed in light, and it took my eyes a minute to process. The perfect living room was now trashed, a pile of books spread across the gorgeous hardwood. Gray lay on his back on the couch in nothing but boxer briefs and black socks.
“Gray?”
He didn’t stir at the sound of my voice. I walked over, carefully tiptoeing past books that likely cost more than my car at home. Wonder what kind of insurance he had to carry.
“Gray,” I called again.
Still nothing.
I looked down at his face, his eyes closed, his hair still somehow perfect. There was a smear of blood on his knuckles and I grabbed them to examine but no cut marred his perfect skin.
Creepy.
“Gray,” I said and shook his shoulder.
He gasped and opened his eyes, causing me to jump back and trip over a pile of books only to land on my ass into another pile.
Oh this was going to be painful tomorrow.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Why is it so bright?”
I huffed. Angrier now than before. “I turned on the light, obviously.”
He blinked and met my eyes. Something was off about him. Like his mind played a song on repeat but in the wrong tune. Instead of sounding unique it just sounded haunting.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, leaning over to brace his elbows on his thighs.
I extricated myself from the pile of books and glared. “I’m asking myself that question right now too. Michael texted me and asked me to get over here.”
His tone took an edge. “You’re here for Michael?”
I sat gingerly beside him, my ass and back aching from the book landing. “No, dumbass, I’m here because he was worried about you.”
I gestured at the books. “For obvious reasons. What’s the problem?”
He sucked in a long breath and sat back. That perfectly impenetrable playboy billionaire mask in place. The one I thought he’d gotten rid of with me. The one that sort of stung to look at after everything that had happened between us.
“I’m sorry you concerned yourself. You didn’t need to come.”
I looked ar
ound at the books, his pile of clothing nearby. Obviously something was wrong with him. Maybe this was the slowly losing his mind bit he mentioned.
“Well, you’re lying.” I tried to think of what Jake would do in this situation. “Have you eaten?”
He blinked at me like I’d asked him if he had an extra hand somewhere it didn’t belong. His stomach let out a loud rumble but his face stayed the same. It was sort of eerie, actually.
I slipped off the couch and tiptoed into the kitchen. It looked like the rest of his house. Stainless steel, beautiful granite, luxurious hardwood. Rich sophistication. I opened the refrigerator to find five items: cheese, wine, heavy cream, mayonnaise, and butter.
Either he didn’t grocery shop or he didn’t eat. Was that an immortal thing?
I shook the thought away. Of course not, he wasn’t a vampire.
His pantry proved a little more fruitful and I grabbed a box of pasta and began water boiling. While he was in the other room I opened another drawer out of curiosity. Cutlery, tea bags, wine bottle opener. His kitchen reminded me of a stage kitchen. Only the props necessary to make it appear to be real.
“Dorian, do you ever eat in here?” I called out to him.
A few seconds passed and he came in rubbing the back of his neck. It was both sexy as hell and disconcerting, witnessing him walking around in his underwear.
“Pardon?”
I pointed to the drawers. “You have nothing in your kitchen. Do you ever eat here?”
He looked at his own kitchen like he’d never seen it before. “No, rarely. I usually order out or I have Michael bring me food.”
Ah the joys of money. Must be nice.
“Well, tonight you are going to enjoy the culinary stylings of me. The vast majority of these revolve around microwaving, boiling water, and pouring cereal.”
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