by Avery Wilde
His face was even more captivating than his muscular form. His eyes were an entrancing shade of blue, and his face was all masculine angles from the ridge of his brows, the high cheekbones, and the square of his jaw. His lips were seemingly drawn into what appeared to be a permanent half-smirk, and I gulped as I waited to find out exactly why he’d sat down across from me.
“This is going to sound like a line,” he said.
He had an English accent that made me go unexpectedly weak at the knees. I’d never known that I found British accents sexy, but apparently I did. That movement of his lips was potent to me, and I felt something resonate within my core like the echo of a drum.
“And the reason it’s going to sound like a line is because it is a line,” he continued. “I thought it was best to get that out of the way upfront—save any misunderstandings about my intentions.”
“Okay.” I smiled and nodded. Usually I would’ve said a polite ‘no thank you’, but I had to admit, this was a good opener. Oh, and the fact that the guy was utterly gorgeous certainly didn’t hurt….
“Let’s hear the line,” I added.
“You mean that wasn’t good enough?”
I laughed and shook my head. “You said there was going to be a line and you prepared me for it, so now you have to deliver.”
The man locked his sapphire blue eyes with mine. “You are, without question, the most beautiful woman in this bar, probably in this city, possibly in the world, and I would very much like it if you would join me for a drink. If for no other reason than the fact that I will be able to tell people that I drank with the most beautiful girl in this bar, probably in this city, possibly in the world.”
I found it hard to tear my gaze away from his eyes, but I did my best to seem nonchalant. “It’s not a very original line, but you did deliver it well. I think the accent helps.”
Speaking of the accent, it had just registered with me that it was rather posh, which struck me as strange for a man who had tattoos twisting up his arms. Then again, these days a lot of people had tattoos; people from many walks of life. I suppose it wasn’t that odd.
The man smiled back, blue eyes twinkling with irresistible wickedness. “I may not be original, but I always deliver.”
I’d never thought that a smile could be sexual, but I felt the need to use birth control before allowing this man to smile at me again. I bit my lip and instantly hated myself for doing something so coyly girlish. “I still don’t know. I’m not convinced that your intentions are honorable.”
“They’re not.” The smile seemed to smoke. “They are utterly despicable.”
Perhaps it was his sexy accent, or perhaps it was the way in which he enunciated the word ‘despicable’, but the whole sentence seemed to be actually sticky with sexual promise, as if it had been glazed in honey and pheromones.
“I guess a drink couldn’t hurt.”
The man’s smile broadened. “Every great night starts with that sentence. I’m Drew Ellis, by the way.”
“I’m Keira.”
“Believe it or not, I had a childhood cat named Keira,” he said.
I arched one eyebrow. “You had a cat named Keira?”
He nodded, looking ever-so-slightly embarrassed. “Yes, I used to watch this awful cartoon with my brother when we were much younger, and one of my favorite characters was named Keira. My mother got us a cat one day, and my brother wanted to call her Mittens—how original—but I insisted on Keira.”
I smiled. “That’s cute. So is Keira still your favorite character, then?”
“Hmm…no, I think I’ve actually just found a new favorite Keira.”
“Oh, come on…that was so lame,” I said with a grin.
He held his hands up in mock defeat. “Yes, it was. Now let’s get that drink I mentioned earlier so I can embarrass myself even more without having to remember it in the morning.”
I laughed and followed him across the room, and after he’d bought us both a drink from the bar, he led me to the most secluded booth in the place, out of the gaze of prying eyes and somewhat in the shadows. It made me a little nervous about what he might be planning, especially since he’d been quite upfront about his intentions being ‘despicable’. Even the memory of him saying that word made thrilling tremors run up and down my spine…mostly down. And yet I also found myself thinking that I was safe with him. For a bar predator, he was extraordinarily polite and well-spoken. Of course, bad people could have good manners (just look at Hannibal Lecter) and the English accent did enhance it (just look at Severus Snape), but there was something about Drew that made me feel safe.
After some thought, I decided that I felt safe with him because I always felt that I could say ‘no’ at any time. For all his wolfish behavior, Drew gave off an aura of respect for me. I had no doubt that, no matter how heated things became, he would back off if I said ‘no’ at any point. Of course, part of the reason for that was that Drew clearly thought a lot of himself, and someone that confident would never harass a woman into spending time with him.
He simply didn’t have to.
The other thing about Drew that I found much more difficult to place was a strange sense of familiarity. I was certain that I’d never met him before, and yet I was equally certain that I knew him. There was just something so familiar about him. The odd sensation reminded me of one time when I was a kid and I’d run into a teacher in the grocery store. I hadn’t recognized Mrs. Adams outside of her usual context of the classroom—the woman had looked the same and yet her surroundings had rendered her oddly unrecognizable. I wasn’t sure what use that association was in figuring out how I knew Drew, but there it was.
On top of all of this was the overwhelming weight of Drew’s attractiveness. One thing I’d learned over the last few years was that we were always more likely to trust those who we found appealing, and I wasn’t going to pretend that I found Drew anything other than very appealing. Physically, he was gorgeous, but he was also charming, witty and intelligent, and I found myself almost unwillingly enjoying his company. He was the sort of man I generally liked to dislike. Men who cared so much about their appearance held no appeal for me; they were narcissists and probably as dumb as the mirror that they clearly spent most of their life staring into. Drew obviously spent time on his appearance and was obviously aware of how good-looking he was, and I wanted to dislike that, but the man himself made that hard—he was good company.
And so very sexy.
“So what do you plan on doing with your degree?” Drew asked. We’d been discussing the fact that I’d just graduated from college.
“I’d love to have my own gallery one day, but I’m also really interested in art restoration.”
“Fixing up old pieces?”
“Exactly. It’s delicate work, but the results are worth it. You should see this Caravaggio someone managed to restore last year after it was found in an old wine cellar in Italy,” I said animatedly. I loved talking about the things I’d studied and learned during my time at college, and I pulled out my phone so I could Google the aforementioned Caravaggio.
Drew nodded as I showed it to him. “Ah, yes, I think I’ve actually seen that in person,” he said. “I like how realistic the facial expressions are.”
“Yeah, they’re amazing,” I said with a nod. “But wait…how have you seen it in person? As far as I know, it was acquired by the British royal family immediately after its restoration, and it hasn’t been put in any museums.”
Drew hesitated for a second, scratching his chin. “Er…they must have it on display somewhere in the Wellington Castle public walkthrough section that’s open to tourists. I took a friend there a while ago when he was visiting London.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“You know, I’m not personally a huge art buff myself, but I do understand its importance, and it’s really great how passionate you are about it,” he said. “People these days are force-fed this mantra that art is worthless and the only careers wor
th pursuing are engineering and science. Those things are all well and good, but without creative people in the world, how bleak would the world actually look? We wouldn’t have nice things to look at, and there’d be no entertainment. No books, no movies, no music. It would be utterly boring.”
“Exactly! I’ve tried to explain that to so many people who’ve told me I wasted my time getting an arts degree,” I replied with a wide-eyed smile.
We’d only just met tonight, but Drew really seemed to ‘get’ me. He was the first person who’d been able to see my point of view on creative subjects without me having to defend it first, and that made me feel like I was sitting with an old friend; a real kindred spirit.
“So tell me more about your favorite paintings,” Drew said, leaning forward.
We chatted for what felt like hours, the banter between us getting steadily more sexually charged with the occasional ‘accidental’ meeting of hands across the table or legs below it, and Drew suddenly looked straight across the table, locking me with those devastating eyes and speaking without any semblance of pretense.
“My hotel is just round the corner.”
“Oh. Is it?”
There was no question of what he meant, and just the thought of it sent hot, urgent messages buzzing along every nerve in my body, and right now every single one seemed hardwired to my loins. I wanted him—no question. And yet I held myself in check; this wasn’t me, I didn’t do this, I’d never done this. Well… I’d done ‘that’, but only ever with boyfriends. The one night stand was uncharted territory for me, and I wasn’t sure it was territory that I wanted to explore. But even as I thought that, I knew that if I was going to explore it, then boy…was this the man to go exploring with!
“I know the classic line,” Drew went on, honest and upfront as ever. “I’m supposed to say ‘I never do this, but you’re just so beautiful’. Well, you are just so beautiful, but we both know that saying ‘I never do this’ would be a lie. I do this a lot. Which is why I am so very good at it…if you catch my drift.”
His voice seemed to drop an octave on the word ‘very’, a bass note that I could swear I felt vibrating in my libido.
What the hell? I was a little tipsy but not so drunk as to not know what I wanted, and I wanted Drew. I barely knew the guy, but I wanted him right here and now on the table in the bar. Obviously we couldn’t do that, but his hotel room would do. In the end, if you were going to throw away a lifetime of carefully protected principles, then do it with the best, right?
I hesitated for a moment longer, taking a deep breath, and then I looked into his eyes. “Let’s go.”
Drew grinned. “I’m glad you said that. I wasn’t sure.”
“I’d have thought you always get what you want.”
Drew shrugged. “I do. Women don’t say no to me. But you’re different to the girls I usually go for.”
I shook my head; for the first time I’d caught him in a ‘line’. “I bet you’ve said that to every girl you’ve been with.”
“Oh, definitely.” Drew nodded. “Everyone likes to hear it. But with you it’s actually true.”
And while I’d never been the most confident girl, I believed him. He made it impossible not to.
I sent off a quick text to Sarah so she’d know where I was going, and then we picked up our coats and headed for the door. I felt unsteady with every step I took, not because of the drinks I’d had, but because of my excitement—I was actually doing this! Something I’d never done before, something I’d always sworn I would never do, something that had always been anathema to me…and yet I felt no anxiety at all. This felt exciting. It felt right.
Outside there was a queue of people waiting to get into the busy bar, past the hulking bouncer who stood by the door. From the looks of them, many would be relying on how good their fake IDs were to get in, and many would be disappointed. It was from a gaggle of girls who fell into that optimistic category that the whispers started, swiftly becoming louder before turning into shrill adolescent squeals, accompanied by frenzied pointing at…Drew.
What the hell?
I looked at him in confusion, and for the first time this evening, Drew looked uncomfortable.
“What’s all that about?” he asked with an unconvincing laugh.
He took my arm and tried to walk me on more briskly but the excitement was now spreading down the line, leaping from one group of girls to the next with a single phrase standing out amongst the girlish chatter—a single phrase that immediately caught my attention.
“Oh my god, I think that’s Prince Andrew!”
Whether hissed in surreptitious excitement or squealed in high-pitched ecstasy, that phrase now dominated the queue. They all turned to look at Drew to confirm what rumor had told them, and I joined them, looking at the man I’d been planning to spend the night with. God, how could I have been so blind? How could I not have recognized one of the most famous, and to a degree notorious, men on the planet?
Because, of course, I hadn’t expected to bump into the heir to the British throne in a New York bar. I had recognized him to some degree, and yet my brain had refused the conclusion because it simply couldn’t be him. But now I looked, and now that it had been confirmed by two dozen gawking witnesses…now I could see. I’d spent the evening drinking with Andrew Arlington, the Prince of Wales and heir apparent to the most celebrated royal family in the world.
And I’d almost taken him home!
There seemed a half breath of stillness as the assembled women took in the fact that the world’s most eligible bachelor, most desirable man and most infamous playboy was only a few feet away from them. As the reality crashed in upon them, one woman abandoned the queue and charged.
“Andreeeeew! Oh my god, I love you!”
It was a cry that pierced the air of the still New York night, and from nowhere, large men in suits descended to stand between their prince and the hordes of his adoring groupies. I’d actually seen those men in the bar earlier, and I’d fleetingly wondered why they kept looking my way, but I’d been so caught up with Drew that I hadn’t questioned it. But now…
I looked at the man who’d introduced himself to me as Drew Ellis. “Is it true? Are you him?” I asked with wide eyes.
“Well…I’d rather not discuss it here,” he replied. “But yes, I am.”
My heart sank. I couldn’t stand liars. I’d been lied to by people in the worst ways in the past—my own family members, no less—and it wasn’t something I could put up with again, even from a guy I’d just met. Even from a prince I’d just met.
“I don’t believe it,” I muttered. “You lied. You…”
I couldn’t even begin to piece the rest of my thoughts into words, and my voice trailed off into the cold night air. Then I did the only thing I could think of in that exact moment.
I turned and ran.
“Keira! Wait!”
I heard the shout above the cries of the girls but I didn’t stop, didn’t look back, and certainly heard no running feet coming after me, which was all for the best. Now the reality of the situation was upon me, I felt stupid, I felt humiliated and I felt a little angry. He’d lied to me, and I’d fallen for every single bit of bullshit he’d fed me! And he’d done it just so he could have sex with me and never see me again. If he’d ever intended for me to know who he was, then he wouldn’t have given me a fake name, and he’d taken advantage of the fact that I hadn’t recognized him so that he’d never have to reveal his true identity to me.
Then again, I suppose that was the nature of the one night stand: anonymous and meaningless. And although I’d thought only minutes before that that was what I wanted, I now knew that such a desire was not within me at all. Not even a bit. Sex and meaningless were two words which I couldn’t put together, and I had no idea why it had seemed like such an amazing, exciting idea five minutes ago.
Although tonight had ended prematurely, I still felt used, and my resistance to the one night stand was renewed a hundredfold,
even if the man was as sexy as ‘Drew Ellis’.
Never again.
***
“Prince Andrew?” Sarah’s jaw hung open in disbelief.
I nodded.
“Prince Andrew was in that bar?”
“Yup. Dressed quite casually, which was why no one seemed to notice at first. But it was him.”
“And I missed him?” Sarah punched the arm of the chair in which she was sitting. “Dammit!”
“I think you’re missing the point of the story.”
We were sitting in the apartment we shared (though not for much longer), both holding a coffee as we discussed the events of the night before.
“I can’t believe you had a chance to sleep with him, and you ditched him instead,” she said.
I shrugged, still feeling the sting of last night’s events. “I couldn’t go through with it. He actually made me feel like I was special, like maybe there’d be more than just one night between us, but he didn’t even tell me his friggin’ real name. I guess I’m not upper class enough for a guy like him to ever think about seeing again. The whole thing just made me feel like crap.”
“Keira, of course he made you feel all warm and fuzzy and special. He wanted to get laid. That’s what one night stands are about. It’s not about dating or meaning something to the other person, or having any kind of future with them.”
I sighed, knowing how incredibly naïve I sounded. “I know. I guess it’s just really not for me.”
Her face softened. “Sorry if I pushed you into it. I really thought you’d have fun.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said, shaking my head. “It was my decision, and besides, I didn’t go through with it anyway.”
“I still feel bad. And Prince Andrew is such a player…I feel like if you’d met a less ‘playboy’ kinda guy, then you might’ve actually had fun with it.”
