Red Hot Candy (22 All-New Delicious Romance Books by Best-Selling Authors about Alpha Males, Billionaires, Cowboys, and More for Your Summer Reading) (Red Hot Boxed Sets)

by Dani Dundee

  “So, who are these people you’re employing, Cupsy? I don’t think I know them.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand dismissively. “Let’s talk about something less boring. What are you doing tonight?”

  “Well, I’m taking a break from working. Sis hates my guts right now, but what else is new, right?”

  “You and your fucking sisters … You weren’t born to get along together. You’re different from them, and they can’t seem to fucking accept it. It’s so damn sad.”

  “Well, it is what it is. Tonight I want to get away from all this. My work will be waiting for me in the morning.”

  “Okay, so it’s settled. You’ll spend the evening here, bitch, I don’t want to hear any excuse. I’m in dire need of company.”

  He waves to the tall guy who came with my drink earlier to get his attention. “Keep them coming, bitch,” he says, pointing to the empty glass in front of him.

  I nurse my own drink slowly, silently watching the scene of all those strangers interacting so easily for most of the evening, and wishing I, too, could have a normal relationship with someone. Cupid chats with everyone—a lot of people I don’t know, which is just as well: I don’t want to be asked questions tonight. Tonight is my night away from my routine … I just wish it also was my night away from my misery.

  As the clock ticks midnight, I feel more and more like going back home and hiding under the covers of my bed. I get Cupid’s attention by taking his hand, and I tell him—loudly, in order to be heard over the music blasting on the bar’s sound system—that I’m going back home.

  “Already? But you just fucking got here—and you didn’t talk to anyone. Stay a little longer, bitch,” he slurs. He’s clearly drunk.

  “I really gotta go, hon. See you next week,” I say, getting up. Wow, I’m dizzy. I grab the counter, trying to get my equilibrium back. I guess I’m not used to the strength of the cocktails served here … It’s true I had three of them, hoping somehow I could drown my sorrows away like a human would.

  “Wait,” he says, grabbing something from under the counter.

  With a speed that seems incredible for such a short, stout body, Cupid jumps on the bar and plunges a golden arrow in my heart with his bare hand.

  “What did you do to me?” I gasp, not understanding right away what this means. It hurts so much that I just fall like a stone onto my hands and knees.

  ***

  CHAPTER TWO

  My hand flies to my chest but surprisingly there is no blood. I hear Cupid chuckle, and I look up, wondering what the hell happened. There is a gorgeous man, with broad shoulders and the most beautiful eyes, towering over me, a hand extended to help me up.

  “Can I help you, miss?” he says, his deep voice full of concern.

  I hesitate, still kneeling on the floor, a warm feeling exploding in my chest, incapacitating me.

  “Are you okay?” he asks. In his voice, I can hear genuine concern. My hand leaves my chest, where the pain fades to a dull, throbbing reminder that I’ve been stabbed, and places itself in his. His hand is strong, and his long fingers wrap gently around mine, waiting for me to use him as support to lift myself up.

  From up close, his eyes look like the Laguna Verde—their color, spectacular, varying from turquoise to dark emerald green, depending on the angle I look into them.

  His brows furrow, and I realize I haven’t spoken a word. “I’m all right,” I murmur, still feeling incoherent. I hear another of Cupid’s chuckles, but I can’t find the will to be annoyed anymore. I just want to drown in those two pools of green, calm water.

  “Would you care for some water?” he asks, slowly steering me to a vacant table. “Or something to eat, maybe?” I see from the corner of my eye that his arms are ready to catch me if I fall again. He must think I’m drunk … but Fates can’t get drunk.

  I sit in the chair he pulls for me, and when he breaks eye contact, I find myself capable once more to look around me. No one seems to be alarmed by what just happened—it’s as if no one saw Cupid hit me with his—

  His arrow!

  I look toward the counter, and there he is, winking and waving at me.

  “Miss?” The handsome guy is still there, awaiting my answer.

  “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

  Now that I look at him again, I notice a lot of details. He has short stubble, which does nothing to hide a dimple on his chin. His jaw is strong. His shortish hair is messy, in a cute way. He’s young, maybe twenty-five. He is wearing a wool sweater that clings to him like a second skin. He is really gorgeous, just the kind of guy to steal your heart and trample it over and over.

  “Excuse me, I am very rude—I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Michael.”

  “Nice to meet you, Michael.”

  He waits for a dozen seconds, and then asks,” Can I ask your name, pretty lady?”

  I blush. I am really not used to social conventions. “My friends call me Aisa.”

  “That’s an original name,” he muses. “Where does it come from?”

  “It’s Greek.”

  “You have Greek origins?” he asks. I don’t have the feeling he’s just making conversation; he looks honestly interested in what I have to say.

  “Greek, Roman … Germanic, too. You can say I’m a citizen of the world.”

  I have a hard time taking my eyes off him. His eyes don’t deviate from my face either. I feel a little embarrassed from my fall earlier.

  Stop looking around and talk to the guy, bitch!

  OK, this was not my own thought. What—?

  Yeah. I stabbed you with my fucking arrow. Now I’m in your head. Yadda yadda. Get over it.

  Cupid?!

  Nah, it’s the fucking Pope. Of course it’s Cupid!

  By Zeus! I’m really not happy about this, and I’m about to get up and go over and tell Cupid off when a warm hand touches mine, and I look back again at the gorgeous guy sitting in front of me.

  Michael’s eyes are sad, and I just want to kiss them to make the pain go away—what the hell is happening to me? He lets my hand go, and I feel suddenly cold and alone.

  “Would you like me to leave you alone?” he asks. “I don’t want to bother you. I took my chance to introduce myself when I saw the prettiest girl in the bar was in need of a little help, but I would never want to impose. Just say the word and I’ll go—no harm done … except to my shattered heart.”

  A tentative smile lifts the corner of his mouth, but I can see he is waiting for my answer. I find myself again in awe of the depth of his eyes … Stupid Cupid!

  I love you, too.

  “I’m sorry … Michael. I’m not very good at this dating stuff,” I say, smiling despite myself and my annoyance at Cupid’s dumb idea of a joke.

  “Dating?” he says, surprised. The smile on his face feels like a million dollars.

  “Hum, well—you know what I mean—” I feel even more embarrassed than before. Dating feels like a silly idea—worse, a dangerous idea, when you consider my catastrophic dating life, and the job I’m doing.

  “Do you come here often?”

  “Well … this place is new. My friend owns the bar. It’s my first time here, but I’ll probably be around sometimes, to see him.” I look longingly in his eyes and ask, “Do you come here often?”

  “First time here, too. I’m new in town. Just came back from three years overseas.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Oh, here and there. Wherever the Army sent me.”

  So he’s a soldier… No wonder he is so fit and tan. I have a little something for warriors … I’ve been attracted to them for centuries. No wonder I find Michael so appealing.

  Or maybe, you know, the fucking arrow helped.

  “Stop it!” I yell at Cupid, turning my head and staring at him, my eyes shooting daggers.

  Can’t help it, bitch. I’m in for the ride, until the resolution. So get on with it, if you want me to leave your little skull.

 
As I turn around, I see that Michael’s eyes are wide—wondering what just happened, no doubt.

  “Sorry,” I say, “Cupsy is messing with me. I hear him sniggering and commenting on everything I do.” I smile a little, trying to appear normal.

  “Can I accompany you home?” Michael asks. “The streets are empty at this hour, it could be dangerous. I’d be less worried if I knew you arrived home safe.”

  I can’t help but laugh out loud. I can feel the heavy shears in my pocket. It’s not me he should be worried about.

  “I’m sorry … Was that sexist of me? I didn’t realize—”

  “No, no, that was very cute,” I reassure him, my hand touching his lightly. I can’t seem to be able to avoid touching him. He doesn’t seem to mind, either. “Just … a little bit unexpected.”

  “Well …” he admits, “It’s also an excuse to spend a little more time with you, if I’m being totally honest. I would love to get to know you better.”

  This time, it’s his hand that takes mine, and he doesn’t let go. I can feel my heartbeat speeding up.

  “All right, let’s go then.”

  We get up, and I don’t feel tipsy from the arrow strike anymore. His hand touches the small of my back lightly, guiding the way towards the bar exit. I wave at Cupsy, shooting him a warning look.

  “Good night, babe!” he shouts, waving back—a smug smile on his face.

  We walk in silence along the barely lit streets of the neighborhood. The freezing wind feels good on my face and helps me think—my brain is working at a hundred miles per hour.

  “You must be freezing.” Michael shrugs off the army jacket he retrieved before we left the bar and puts it on my shoulders without waiting for my answer. I’m not freezing, but this gesture feels so good. I’m not used to being taken care of. The smell coming from the fabric is warm and dusty, like the desert.

  “Thank you,” I say finally. My hand searches for his, and he takes it, interlacing our fingers sweetly.

  What’s happening? I understand I’m under Cupsy’s spell, but I wouldn’t have thought I would be falling so hard and so fast for this young man.

  When we arrive at my building’s door, I walk up the front steps, but Michael doesn’t follow. I look at him, and we’re almost at the same height. His eyes are at the same level as mine.

  “This is me,” I say softly. “Thanks for taking me back.”

  His hand rises to caress my cheek. I feel stupidly shy, but I am unable to look down and stop bathing in the gaze of his beautiful eyes.

  “When can I see you again?” he asks in a whisper instead of kissing me.

  “I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” I say, thinking the opposite. I would love to see him again. I’ll probably be thinking about him obsessively until I do.

  He looks down, shyly playing with my fingers. “Aisa … I think you’re amazing. I would really love to get to know you better. And I would love for you to get to know me … beyond a quick chat at a singles’ bar.”

  “Listen, Michael … I would love to have a shot at a relationship—at any relationship, and one with you in particular, though I have only known you for about an hour … But I’m bad news.”

  Ha! That’s a fucking understatement.

  “You don’t want to be with me,” I say, turning away to hide centuries of heart troubles. I haven’t had a boyfriend who lived past the third date for a long, long time. After a while, I stopped trying.

  “I do want to be with you,” he counters, his eyes shooting back, boring into mine. “But I want to do it the right way. I’ll wait as long as I have to, if you’ll just give me one chance.”

  “Any relationship I have is doomed from the start.”

  “How can you say this?” he argues, his voice still soft. “You can’t know what the future holds.”

  “Hm, actually I do. I know exactly what the future holds. I’ve seen it over and over again, for so many people. I know how it ends. And with me it always ends abruptly.”

  “I don’t believe in fate. I believe in making relationships work.”

  I cannot stop myself from smirking at him mentioning me and saying I don’t exist, when I am right there in front of him—one of the three Fates. It’s kind of cute, if you don’t mind your existence being negated.

  “I do believe in fate. But as much as I would like to spare you, I find myself more and more attracted to you … and I realize I won’t be able to refuse another rendezvous if you’ll give me one.”

  His face lightens up, his smile reaching his eyes.

  “See you tomorrow evening at the LoveSick for a drink, then. After that I’ll take you out, if you still like me.”

  “See you tomorrow,” I say, already impatient. I was actually hoping he’d stay the night, but somehow the fact that he acts like a gentleman is a turn-on.

  I enter the hall and close the massive door behind me. My heart is leaping, weighed down only by the presence of the shears in my pocket.

  ***

  CHAPTER THREE

  The door bell buzzes loudly multiple times, and I roll onto the other side of the bed, grabbing a pillow to put over my head, and hoping whoever this is will go away and leave me alone. This is not a normal hour to wake people up.

  Wake up, bitch. I’m outside with donuts, and it’s freezing.

  I grumble as I slide out of bed with the grace of the raging grizzly. At the door, Cupsy is almost hidden behind a gigantic box of pastries.

  “Come on in, annoying little bug,” I grumble.

  “About time!” he says with his usual bothered tone—but I know him well, and I know it’s his own particular way of being friendly. I have a hard time staying mad when I look at him.

  “Thanks for the donuts,” I say, grabbing one from the box and sitting on the couch. Cupid is sitting on the coffee table right in front of me, his little chubby legs crossed.

  “What, no coffee? You’re a shitty host, babe.”

  With my donut firmly set between my teeth, I get up to prepare two cappuccinos with extra sugar—Cupsy likes things sweet.

  “So, why didn’t you invite that pretty little piece of ass in last night? What were you thinking?” he asks, not even bothering with chit chat. Cupsy has always been straight to the point, and that’s part of why I’ve always liked him so much.

  “Well …”, I say, chewing fast in order to answer. “He was being gentlemanly. I didn’t want to—“

  “Bullshit. I know it, you know it. Now ‘fess up, Aisa.”

  “You know why.”

  “I know why, bitch, of course I know. I’ve known you for how long? Don’t answer that. So I know everything there is to know about you. But I want you to say it out loud so you can hear how crazy it sounds.”

  “Well … I have no luck in the boyfriend department. There always comes a time when I have to end their lives, and it never ends well.”

  “Aaaand?”

  “And the last two guys died very soon after I got close to them.”

  “Listen,” he says, biting on half a donut, his little face full of sugar. “This is your job, this is what you exist for. About this, you cannot do anything—you will always have to end people’s lives. Your sisters weave and measure, and you cut, that’s what you bitches do. And you know it’s an important job—it’s not like you can just go and decide not to end lives anymore.”

  “I know … And I haven’t failed my duty, even for one day.”

  “And I know you know that you can’t make exceptions.”

  “I know that. It’s the exact reason why I can’t be in a relationship.”

  “Not true … you could have a god or a supernatural creature for a boyfriend. You just chose not to.”

  “I’ve tried that, but it didn’t work out.”

  “I know… Believe me, I’m all for mixing things up. Mortals are way less annoying than us guys… No offense.”

  I slouch further in the couch, my cappuccino in one hand.

  “You’ve ruined me with
that arrow,” I say, feeling tired and depressed. “At least with the others I could remain unattached. It was easier when Sis told me it was time to get rid of them.”

  “You’re not ruined. You could easily decide not to get involved with him, for his own good. Not that it would change anything in the end, but at least you wouldn’t have to see him, how his life is ticking away …”

  “But how can I do that when the only thing I think about is him? It’s your damn fault, Cupsy. You know how hard this is for me.”

  “Nah, I won’t take the blame. If you were a mortal, you would never be able to know when your last hour would come—nor your beloved’s end of the thread.”

  He jumps up, his little legs walking fast toward the door. Before he steps outside, he lingers a second in the doorway.

  “People lose the ones they love all the time. That never stopped anyone from being in love. Think about it.”

  ***

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The phone only rings once before my sister answers.

  “Hey, Sis,” I whisper in the phone as I walk in the street. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “No, let me ask you first where you were last night. I called you twenty times. You know how it gets on my nerves when you don’t answer your phone.”

  “It was my night off. Remember? We talked about that.”

  “You don’t get nights off. Your duty is more important.”

  “Aw, come on, it’s not like someone dying a few hours later is going to be the Apocalypse.”

  I hear Sis gasping in horror. “Don’t you dare joke about that, Atropos,” she chides. “The Apocalypse is not funny, you insolent little brat.”

  “Sorry … But, Sis, it’s simple … Just measure their thread a little longer when I’m having a night off, it’s not that complicated. I’m sure Clo can weave a little more thread, she loves crafting.”