by Ella Miles
Nora smiles at me.
“Because you have a plan. And as you said, I don’t want to hurt Nora. You’ve been watching him all night. How do you think we should play it?”
I grin. I win. Although, when Zeke tightens his grip around Nora’s waist, I feel like I lost—big time.
“I go flirt with him and get him somewhere alone. I better move quickly because there is a bachelorette party with their eyes on him,” I say.
“But—” Zeke starts.
I don’t let him finish, but I can hear the pain in his voice. And I glance back for a second and see the flash of worry in his eyes.
Don’t fuck him, he mouths to me.
I glare back. Really? He’s going to try and give me orders? And orders to not fuck him. Does he really think I’d do that? Fuck a horrible man like Beckett, who is about to die by Zeke’s hands? Not likely.
But then Zeke thinks I just whore my body out to anyone. It almost makes me want to fuck the guy. Beckett is good looking after all, if you are into flannel.
I decide to play on his gentlemanly charms. I stumble up to the bar, almost falling in my stiletto heels I’m quite adept in walking in.
And right on cue, Beckett catches me.
I feel Zeke’s eyes on me, and I give him a wink as I play the damsel in distress role that worked so well on Zeke.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” Beckett asks.
Ugh, ma’am. “Oh, excuse me. It’s just a bit slippery there,” I say, slurring my words just enough to sound tipsy, not drunk.
He smiles back. “Let me order you a drink. What are you having?”
“Martini,” I say, even though I hate the drink. On nights like this, I drink it because it’s sexy and sophisticated, and the olive that comes with it is great for flirting.
Beckett flags the bartender down and orders me a martini and him another bourbon. This was easy, too easy.
My suspicions are up, but when Beckett checks out my cleavage that I may have bronzed and used makeup to make extra voluptuous tonight, I know I’m just having an exceptionally good night.
“You here alone?” he asks, looking behind me.
He saw me here with Zeke and Nora. Observant man. He must be good at what he does.
“No, but then you already know that,” I say, keeping eye contact with him as I sip my drink. I consider touching his arm to see if we get that little zing that sometimes happens with Zeke, but it feels like too much too fast. And I don’t want him to get suspicious.
“I did. Do your friends want to join us?” he asks.
“Do you want them to?”
“No,” he says with a smile.
I push my breasts out as I take another drink. “I’m Aria.”
“Beckett.”
Interesting, he goes by his last name.
“And what do you do, Beckett?”
“I’m a cattle farmer.”
I raise an eyebrow. His shirt does seem to scream that, so it’s not a bad lie, but I know it’s not the truth.
“And what do you do?”
I opened myself up for that question. I can seduce and lie with my body, but I can’t with my words. I fucking can’t. So I make my move. I grab the toothpick with the olive on the end and put the olive in my mouth. Sucking slowly and seductively on the olive as I pull the toothpick out.
His eyes are entranced on my lips. I’ve got him.
I go in for the closer. I brush my fingers over his arm.
“Right now…I want to do you.”
His body tenses and heats at my words.
I smile. “Sorry, was that too forward of me.”
He clears his throat. “No, not at all. I’d—”
But he doesn’t finish that thought, because Zeke and Nora are standing behind me.
“Introduce us to your friend, Aria,” Zeke says with a commanding voice. All I can focus on is the fact that he called me Aria.
I grit my teeth, forcing myself to continue smiling as I turn toward Zeke and Nora. Zeke has his arm thrown casually over Nora’s shoulder, and he’s lightly stroking her neck half-mindedly like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
But Nora does, because she has a delirious look on her face, and her eyes close every other second as she makes small cooing sounds. That is, until her eyes open and she sees Beckett. Her eyes go wide as she realizes the man has lost an arm, but then they quickly turn soft when she takes in his tight body and bright smile.
I sigh. This is why I don’t bring Nora with me when I meet dangerous men. She gets all googly-eyed and then gets mad when I kill them.
“Zeke, Nora, this is my friend Beckett. Beckett, these are my annoying friends who were just leaving, Zeke and Nora.”
Zeke holds his left hand out, and Beckett shakes it. “Zeke, huh? I think I know a Zeke.”
Zeke frowns, obviously not recognizing this man, but annoyed that Beckett seems to recognize him.
“I don’t get out much, never been to St. John. You’re probably remembering a different man,” Zeke says.
Beckett nods slowly, and I’m not sure he’s convinced. Fuck, did Zeke just screw everything up by coming over here and getting recognized?
“I’m Nora.” She holds her left hand out to Beckett, who is smiling cautiously at the woman, like he’s afraid she’s going to bite him. Knowing Nora, she might.
I grin at the interaction. Nora seems to have distracted Beckett long enough for me to scowl at Zeke.
Really? Was this necessary? I had him.
He raises a scowling eyebrow. Yea, you had him about to jump into your bed.
So?
He stiffens and turns his attention back to Beckett. Conversation over.
I grab my drink, needing more alcohol, but when I lift my drink to my lips, I realize that I already finished it when I thought I was going home with Beckett.
I raise my hand to flag down the bartender. I’m going to need a lot more alcohol and something stronger than a martini to get me through tonight.
The bartender smiles as he stops in front of me. “What can I get you, gorgeous?” He winks at me as he says it.
And in an instant, both Zeke and Beckett surround me, ready to defend my honor against the friendly bartender. Both men try to put their arms around my shoulder but only end up bumping arms awkwardly in the process.
“She’ll have a martini,” Beckett says at the same time Zeke says, “Another.”
I lean forward, trying to escape both men. “Actually, your most expensive scotch, neat.”
The bartender’s eyes light up at that, like I’m telling him a secret the two bozos next to me don’t know.
“I’ll have that right up,” the man says, not even bothering to ask if anyone else wants a drink.
But with the bartender gone, the tension is high. I give Nora a please help me control Zeke look, but she’s still fawning all over Beckett, touching his arm, and batting her eyelashes. She may have enjoyed Zeke’s attention before when she thought she was making me jealous and matchmaking Zeke and me, but now that there is an actual man in the picture who she could take home to her bed, she’s changed course. I would support her completely, if I didn’t think Beckett was a dangerous man who might drug, rape, or kill her.
Nora, I implore with my eyes to help me out by getting Zeke’s attention. She doesn’t. Instead, she keeps talking Beckett’s head off.
I sigh—deciding I’ll just have to wait until she’s done talking to get Beckett’s attention again.
“What are you doing? I was just about to close the deal,” I hiss so that only Zeke can hear me.
He glares, his eyes burning into mine like he can’t believe I found what I was about to do acceptable. “And I couldn’t let you.”
“I don’t need you to protect my honor, Zeke. I’m a woman fully capable of making her own decisions. If I wanted to sleep with him, I would. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t.”
“Well, I—”
Zeke is interrupted when the bartender returns and hands me
my drink. “It’s on the house,” he says, winking at me.
That snaps both Zeke and Beckett’s attention his way, earning a united scowl from both men.
“Thank you,” I say sweetly, taking the drink and sipping on it, the liquid giving me life and enough energy to deal with both of these men. I make sure to brush my hand against the bartender’s after I take my drink. If Zeke and Beckett weren’t standing next to me, I’d be getting his number right now.
“So, Beckett, do you dance?” I ask, needing to get him away from Zeke and Nora.
He winces and looks down at his missing arm. “I wasn’t very good before I lost my arm, and I’m not any better now.”
“How did you lose your arm?” Nora asks, always the nosy one and not gentle in how she asks her questions.
“Car accident,” Beckett says, taking a slow sip of his drink, his eyes on me. I can read through the lie. He didn’t lose it in a car accident. He lost it doing something dangerous. Which is why I don’t want him anywhere near my friend. And it’s why I have to make sure he ends up dead.
I finish my drink in one large gulp, and I can feel both Zeke and Beckett’s eyes on me as I swallow. I lean forward to grab Beckett’s hand to pull him on the dance floor and not take no for an answer, but Zeke can apparently read my mind and knows my next move.
He grabs my arm before I have the chance, pulling me sharply toward the dance floor.
“Dance with me,” he commands.
And then I’m in his strong arms, feeling like this is where I’ve belonged the whole time, and knowing I’m so fucking screwed.
18
Zeke
I’ve never felt so much rage in my entire life as I did watching Siren flirt with that man. It was so easy for her. Within seconds she had Beckett dopey-eyed, drooling, and ready to do whatever she asked of him. She is very good. Too good.
But then I knew that. She had me falling for her within a few seconds of meeting her, even with me delirious, drowning, and half-dead. I knew she was special. Every man who meets her knows that. It’s why she has some deal with Julian. It’s why she got me here, doing Julian’s bidding. It’s why Beckett almost walked right into her death trap.
I’m not special. Siren has treated me like every other man she’s ever encountered. Like I’m a mark she’s going after. And when she squeezes everything she can get from me, she’ll get rid of me, just like she plans on doing with Beckett.
But with Siren in my arms, our bodies moving together on the dance floor, I forget about all of that. I may hate her, but she’s hard not to fall for all the same.
“How do you do that?” I whisper into her hair, breathing in everything that makes Siren, Siren. Her intoxicating smell that’s a mix of sweet and spice, just like her.
“Do what?”
“Make me like you.”
She gives me an are you absurd look.
I laugh. Maybe I am, because she’s done nothing to make me fall for her. In fact, I’d say she’s tried to get me to hate her.
“You are the one trying to get me to fall for you with your chocolates and flowers and stupid notes.”
I grin. She read the notes.
I turn her toward me, smelling her breath.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Looking for evidence.” Then I brush my thumb over her bottom lip. “Yep, right there. You had chocolate still on your lip. I told you I bought those for Nora, not you.”
She frowns. “I don’t have chocolate on my lip.”
I suck my thumb that was just over her lip, watching her eyes dilate, wanting me to suck something of hers. “Not anymore, you don’t.”
She sighs, and it’s part desperation, part exhaustion, part need.
“What are we doing, Zeke? We are supposed to be figuring out a way to get Beckett on his own, not pretending we like each other when we both just want more sex.”
“Then, we should talk about the sex.”
“No, we shouldn’t.”
I spin her and then pull her tight to my body. “Why not?”
She opens her mouth and then closes it quickly. She’s seldom at a loss for words, and I’m not sure I like waiting for her witty comeback. “Because sex will complicate things.”
I chuckle. “Not possible. We fucked, we still hate each other. We are both still doing the job required of us. Sex did nothing but make our relationship more enjoyable.”
“I just…can’t.”
Can’t—I hate that word. Especially falling from her lips.
“I’m not giving up,” I say.
And with a heavy smile, she says, “I never expected you to.”
A challenge—I like a challenge. I just have no idea how to win when it comes to Siren.
By killing Julian and her.
But that’s not the way I want to win. I want to win her over. I want her to want me in the same way I want her. I want her to fall for me like I stupidly fell for her.
And then what? I’ll hurt her? I could never. But at least I would know I have the power too, just like she does. But unlike her, I won’t rip out her heart and set it on fire just because I can. I would take care of her heart, even if I never loved her back.
The song turns slow, and I think Siren is going to use it as an excuse to stop dancing with me. She doesn’t. She rests her head on my chest, and her arms go around my waist like she’s hugging me, like she never wants to let me go.
I drape my arms over her shoulders, and we sway—slowly and carefully, like we are just dancing to the music, but we are dancing on each other’s hearts. One wrong move could destroy us both.
I glance over at Beckett, who is listening to Nora ramble but is watching us.
I smirk. She’s mine, you asshole.
I close my eyes and just live in the moment. This moment where Siren doesn’t hate me and I don’t want her dead. This moment where it doesn’t matter that we are enemies or lovers or even friends. We are just together, dancing to a song neither of us will remember tomorrow. But this peaceful moment, we will remember forever.
The song stops too quickly. And I feel her dip out of my arms, mumbling something about having to go to the bathroom. I let her go because I’m stupid.
And when I glance back over where Beckett was sitting, he’s gone. And so is Siren. Nora just gives me a shrug.
Fuck.
19
Siren
If my life were a soundtrack, it would be a shitty one. The kind that on first listen sounds great. The music is catchy, and there is just the right amount of emotional, slow songs to fill the track. But listening a second or third time makes you realize it’s far too dramatic, has far too few happy endings, and the romance is just one sad depression into despair.
That’s my life. From the outside, my life looks good. But once you dig in, you realize how complicated and shitty it really is.
Music is my life. Every important moment in my life had its own song to go with it—even if I was only playing the song in my head.
And dancing with Zeke to Never Give Up by Sia was the perfect song to describe how I feel. Dancing with a man who in another life would be the man I gave up everything for and never stopped fighting for. The man I would marry tomorrow because he’s the rare good man in a sea of evil. But I don’t live in a different life; I live in this life. I live in a bad soundtrack.
My life isn’t Sia or Ariana Grande. My life is like a Taylor Swift love song, filled with regrets and unhappy endings.
“So you and Zeke?” Beckett asks as I walk with him out of the nightclub.
“Old flames. He’s dating again, but I don’t think he’s fully moved on,” I say, leaning into Beckett’s chest as we walk to his car.
“And you? Have you moved on?” Beckett asks.
No, but then we haven’t really had a chance to just ‘be’ in the first place.
“Do you really care if I’ve moved on? I’m going home with you,” I say.
He smirks and then strokes my face. “By
the end of the night, I’ll make sure I’m the only man you think about.”
I nod, but I doubt it. He could be the most amazing man in bed, and it wouldn’t matter. Because I’m stupidly hung up on the oaf, who is still back at the bar about to take Nora back to his hotel room to fuck her as revenge for what he thinks I’m about to do.
I’m on the wrong side of Beckett to hold his hand, so he nudges me over until I’m on his left side and then takes my hand in his.
“Where’d you come from, Aria?”
“I’m a world traveler. But I love it here on the sand, on the beach, near the ocean. And you? Flannel? You obviously aren’t from around here.”
He smiles at that. “No, I’m from the arctic, the cold, the wilderness.”
I tug on his beard. “I like the wilderness.”
He leans his head to my side, closing our gap. “I like you.”
I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip. “Yea? What do you like?”
I wait for the answer I always get when I ask a drunk man that question. You’re beautiful, striking, sexy—something about my physical features.
“I like that you danced with an ex while flirting with me.”
I stop walking. “You like that I’m a tease and a whore?”
He looks like I just slapped him. “No, I just meant you know your own value. You are more than just a pretty face. You aren’t coming home with me because I’m your only option to get laid tonight. You weighed all of your options. I saw you sitting at the bar all night. You judged every man who walked in, deciding if he was worthy. Even worthy of just one night with you. You narrowed it down between me and your ex. And even then, you made it clear going home was also an option. You are an independent woman who doesn’t need a man. I like that.”
He puts his hand in his pocket, waiting for me to make the next move since I’m a strong, independent woman and all that. I like that he’s letting me make the next move. But sometimes, I want a man I can depend on. A man who will take care of me. A man who does things for me in spite of the fact that I can do it for myself—make my own money, get myself off, and fight my own battles. Sometimes, I want a man to do all those things.
