by Stasia Black
“Scarlet,” I say as she pulls her sports bra over her head. I don’t miss the way she flinches at my use of her name. What the hell?
She goes for breezy when she answers, tugging her shirt on and running her fingers through her hair since it got so mussed when we were fucking.
The way she’s acting now, it’s like my cock wasn’t buried inside her ten minutes ago. Followed by my mouth sucking the fuck out of her cunt to what looked like a world-shaking orgasm.
“We should talk about what just happened.”
She ties her hair back as she starts walking back toward the trail.
“We scratched an itch.” She still doesn’t look at me.
I catch up with her right as she slides between the two oaks and steps back onto the path.
“Don’t try to pretend like what happened back there—”
“What?” She finally swings around to look at me. “Pretend like it didn’t mean something?” she scoffs. “Look, you’re a good lay… Okay, a great lay.” She rolls her eyes as she concedes the point. “Don’t let it go to your head. I’m sure you’ve got a big enough ego, Mr. Fancy Pants Expensive Shoes.”
She smiles up at me and it’s full of wicked mischief. “After you told me how much you spend on your boxers, I just had to look up those fancy shoes you wear. Ferrigimos?”
I wince at how she butchers the name. And her Italian. “Ferragamo.”
“Right.” Half her mouth tilts in a bemused smile. “We’re from different walks of life. But I have always fantasized about getting fucked in the park.” A slight cloud passes over her eyes. “My way, my say so.”
My blood starts boiling again, this time for entirely different reasons. Was Scarlet hassled by other homeless people? Did they try to hurt her?
I take a step forward. I don’t know what I was planning on doing, I just feel this need to protect and shield her from everything—even her memory. But she backs away from me.
“Catch me if you can.” She winks at me and then turns and hauls ass down the trail.
I sprint after her. As my feet pound dirt, I wonder if this is how it will forever be between us. Her always just out of reach, and me unable to stop the chase.
Chapter 6
The next day around three, Scarlet knocks before poking her head into my office. Immediately, I push away from my computer and stand up. “Yes?”
She was silent the entire jog back yesterday and then she disappeared to shower. When dinner was ready, she just knocked on my door and called out that it was on the dining room table. By the time I got to the door and threw it open, she was gone. I imagine that dinner was as delicious as always, but I could barely taste it.
All I could think about was Scarlet’s flavor on my tongue. The spicy gnocchi she made for the main course had nothing on her sweet cunt.
And after what she’d given me in the park, she thought she could just avoid me? I even went so far as to go up to her room and knock on her door this morning but there was no answer.
So seeing her now is like a drink of water after a long walk in the desert. I’ve been total shit at focusing today. Stella’s been a nuisance, calling me every half-hour to pester me about this or that, telling me I emailed the wrong people or haven’t done something she told me to do an hour ago. Seriously, you’d think sometimes she thinks she’s the boss, not the other way around.
But none of that matters now. Scarlet’s here.
“What’s up?” My voice comes out slightly higher-pitched than it should for a man my age.
Scarlet looks around at the papers scattered haphazardly around my desk—far from the usual order I keep things in. It’s a fairly accurate representation of what’s going on in my fucking head these days. Chaotic. Undisciplined. Not my usual, ordered, take-charge-and-get-shit-done self.
Her eyes come back to me. “Two things. I need to get more groceries so I need some money for that.” She looks down at her fidgeting hands. She flexes her hands and then balls one into a fist and holds it still with the other. “And I was also wondering if you have a Kindle or some other kind of e-reader I could borrow. I’ll pay you back for whatever books I order.”
She must be a fast reader. I’ve noticed my Jack Reacher novels disappearing and reappearing on my shelf, almost one a day.
“I’ll have one here within the hour,” I say decisively. Finally a problem I actually feel like solving. “And let me just finish up this email and I’ll be ready to go to the store with you.”
She looks alarmed. “Oh no, no. You can’t be running off to the store every time I need something. If you just give me some cash—” She cuts off mid-sentence and her face flares completely red. “I mean, of course I’ll give you all the receipts. I’m not trying to swindle you out of anything. I’ll account for every penny. I’m not that kind of—”
“Stop.” I put up a hand, shaking my head. “I know you’re not like that. Christ.” I feel my features scrunch in disbelief. The things she assumes I think of her. But she must have reason—these are the reactions she’s gotten from ‘regular’ people for however long she’s been…out there. They assume she’s either a prostitute or a thief. Fury burns through my blood even thinking about it but I tamp it down as I try to explain myself to Scarlet.
“I just really liked…” I look at the floor as I search for the words, “…shopping with you.” Why does that sound so stupid when I say it out loud?
Scarlet must think so too because she rolls her eyes.
“Says the man who got delivery for every meal before I showed up. Don’t start being gentlemanly on my account. I’m just the help.”
“That’s not how I—”
She laughs out loud. “Oh my God, if you could see the look on your face right now.”
I cross my arms over my chest, seeing nothing amusing. She laughs even harder.
“I heard about you, you know,” she says, still giggling. “Some kind of famous rags to riches story, right? Well I’m the opposite, riches to rags—well, middle class to rags, anyway.” She smiles wryly. “And it’s okay. I don’t judge you for it. Life happens. Shit happens. But like I was saying yesterday at the park, we’re living different realities.”
I shake my head, about to tell her just how wrong she is, when she continues.
“Look, I’m not saying that it makes you bad or me especially virtuous. It just is. Different walks of life, remember?” She takes a step back toward the door. “So you stay here and do your work and I’ll go do mine, getting the groceries and doing the cooking.”
I want to argue, but I’m not sure what I could say. In my gut, I know she’s wrong. But there are some things I never talk about. Ever. So I take out my wallet and hand her some bills for shopping. “The Kindle will be here within the hour.”
Her eyes narrow. “I won’t have an account set up until my first paycheck so I’d appreciate it if you’d order it for me. Regular shipping.” She stares at me a moment. “I hope I made it clear the first time, but I’ll say it again. Don’t you dare think what happened in the woods yesterday equates any kind of special privileges. I’ve still got the kitchen knife and am fully prepared to separate your balls from your body if you even think about trying that shit with me. What happened in the park was totally separate. Just something that I wanted. Nothing to do with this job.”
I just nod my head, eyebrows probably up to my hairline, and hand over the grocery money. After eyeing me another moment, she nods, then smiles tightly and leaves the room.
And I’m left behind getting a goddamned stiffy at the memory of her glaring at me and threatening me while looking like God’s own avenging angel.
* * *
“You’ve known this girl how long?” Stella asks. “And now she’s living with you, has you holing up all week, fucking off on half of your responsibilities, and she’s cooking for you?” Stella sounds far more incredulous about the latter than the former. Then again she’s known me long enough to be familiar with some of my idiosyncrasies and peculiarities. “Who
the hell is this girl? Where did you meet her and how do you know she’s not trying to scam you?”
I jump up and close the door to my office. Scarlet brought in lunch about the same time Stella showed up unannounced. I don’t know if Scarlet’s still cleaning up in the kitchen or if she went off to her bedroom, but Stella’s brassy voice fucking carries.
“Quiet down,” I warn. “You’re being ridiculous.” I want to immediately stand up for Scarlet but at the same time don’t want to share secrets that aren’t mine to tell.
Stella steps closer and finally, thank Christ, drops her voice. “After everything that went down in the tabloids with you and Heather, this beautiful chef just happens to what? Offer herself up as your live-in maid/fuck-toy? I know they do this sort of thing in Europe all the time, but if the press ever got wind of this—”
“Christ!” I all but shout. “It’s nothing like that. And if you keep talking about Scarlet that way, you’re the one who’s welcome to leave!” I swing my hand in the direction of my office door.
We just stand there a moment, both equally as shocked by my outburst if each for different reasons.
“Just tell me where you met her,” Stella says, half-bewildered, half-pleading. It’s a strange look on my usually kick-ass partner’s face. “We don’t keep secrets from each other. You know I’ve always had your back. From the beginning.”
Damn her. She’s going to pull our history card on me?
I shake my head at her, loosening my jaw. “Not that it’s any of your business,” I decide to give her something, “but I met her at the soup kitchen.”
Stella pauses and brightens slightly. “She volunteers there? As a chef?”
Sure. She can think that. Stella loves civic-minded people.
“We hit it off and she was between places so I told her she could crash here till she figures it out. She doesn’t like the idea of staying for free so she’s cooking for me. It’s as simple as that.”
Wow. I was even able to mainly stick to the truth.
Stella doesn’t look completely convinced. “I’d feel better if she weren’t so pretty. You and pretty aren’t a good mix.”
This startles a chuckle out of me and I grab Stella for a pretend noogie.
“Ack.” She punches me in the ribs hard enough to make me gasp and let her go.
“Christ, you never play fair,” I wheeze, holding my side.
Stella just grins and pulls down her blazer, straightening it. “All right, champ. Here’s the prepaid card for your new chef.” She hands me a credit card along with another piece of paper. “And the info to recharge it whenever you want. Now, more importantly, it’s time to get your ass out of this apartment and back to work.”
“Jackson Vale agreed to meet tonight at Chandelier. Ten o’clock. Get your fucking head back in the game.” She stares me down. “If you can hook him, then that’s three of the four investors that you need to make The Sutler deal a go. Work your charming schoolboy magic or whatever the fuck it is that makes people always say yes to you.”
I nod. Vale’s a good man and one I’d really like to be in business with.
“I guess we’re done for now.” Stella heads toward the door but turns back at the last second. “One last thing, what’d you say Scarlet’s last name was?” Her eyebrows are raised, face a mask of innocence
“I didn’t. Goodbye, Stella.” I say, standing and giving her a gentle shove out the door.
She pauses one last time. “Kennedy.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t fuck it up with Vale tonight. This is important.”
“Aye aye, captain.” I give her a salute.
She gives me the finger.
Aw, now doesn’t that just bring on the warm fuzzies? As she leaves, though, I’m thinking about the two reasons I didn’t give her Scarlet’s last name. One, I don’t want my PA-slash-partner running a background check on the woman I’m interested in, no matter how curious I might be about the results. And two, I’m not entirely sure Scarlet gave me her real last name.
Whenever I prod about her past, she gets cagey and uncomfortable. Then again, I’ve only known her a week and a half. Trust is something you have to earn. Whatever there is to know about Scarlet Brown, if that is her real name, I want to learn it when she trusts me enough to tell her secrets.
Not that there’s much chance for that with Scarlet avoiding me. It’s Friday now and she’s been keeping it up ever since getting it on in the woods on Wednesday afternoon. We’ve only spoken during that brief exchange yesterday and today so I could explain the advance on her paycheck I gave her as well as the Kindle that arrived. I told her I have a membership with free same-day shipping—which is true, just not with the particular service I ordered her device from. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
But it might hurt me, because ever since she got the damn thing, she’s been holed up in her room. Reading I guess, though I wouldn’t fucking know because I haven’t seen her. She cooks, of course, but she’s strict about her no-one’s-allowed-in-the-kitchen-while-she-cooks rule. Then she disappears back to her room right after the food’s on the table.
The meals continue to be fucking amazing. Out of this world. Lighter fare for lunch, then heartier meals for dinner. I’ve taken to working out for an hour in the morning in addition to my early evening jogs. Fuck knows how I’d rather work off this restless energy. I can’t remember the last time I spent so many days in a row pent up in my apartment, especially knowing there’s a gorgeous woman three rooms down from mine. I about die every time I hear the guest shower turn on, imagining her pale body turn blush pink when the hot water hits her skin…
Yeah. I’ve been taking more showers than usual myself. And I don’t do cold showers. Our rendezvous in the woods gave me plenty of spank bank material to relive as I take myself in hand, so to speak. But each time is less satisfying than the last. Knowing what it’s like to touch Scarlet’s sweet body, to have tasted and been enveloped by the hottest cunt on Earth…and then go back to being relegated to my goddamned hand is a fucking cruel form of torture.
Stella wasn’t wrong about me not being able to keep this up for much longer. I can’t stay cooped up here. I’m going to go fucking insane. And she arranged for a meeting with Jackson Vale tonight at the club.
A Friday at the club wheeling and dealing. That’s just what I need to get my mind off the woman who’s driving me batshit crazy. I’ll get out of here. Clear my head. Focus my attention back on what’s important.
Getting The Sutler. Making my next power play. Taking the next step to make this entire city my bitch.
I check the clock. It’s seven. Three hours till showtime.
First, I’ll eat. Yes. Get that out of the way.
Then I can focus on my pitch. I don’t want to come across as too needy. Pitching a business deal is like seducing a beautiful woman. You show them the goods you have to offer and then pull back. They have to chase you. Make them feel like you could take them or leave them. Sure, you find them attractive, but there are a hundred others and only one of what you’re offering. Never lose the upper hand. Aka, the opposite of what I’ve done with Scarlet.
I tense my jaw. Not thinking about her right now.
Business. Fucking focus. I stride toward the dining room.
No distractions.
The dining room table comes into view. The head of the table is set as normal. A tray of food with a dome covering it is arranged as it has been the past week whenever I come in for lunch or dinner.
But I stop dead in my tracks, because seated right beside the head of the table is Scarlet. She’s wearing a vintage blue cocktail dress that hugs every single one of her ample curves—including a cleavage-revealing neckline that dries every ounce of moisture in my mouth.
“Scarlet.” It comes out as a strangled whisper from my mouth, which is suddenly as dry as the Mohave Desert.
“Hi, Kennedy.” She gives me a dazzling smile like nothing in the world is unusual about
her dining with me. “You kept inviting me to dinner and I thought, well,” she shrugs, “since it’s Friday and the end of my first week of work…well,” another shrug, “why not?”
Why not? Why not?
I stride broodingly over to my place at the head of the table and sit down.
All of a sudden, Scarlet’s smile wavers and she looks at me uncertainly. She starts to push back her chair. “I’m sorry. I was being stupid. I’ll just—”
“Stay.” My hand shoots out and takes hers by the wrist. Her blue eyes jump to meet mine. “Please. I was just surprised, that’s all.”
It’s true, too. Because in spite of all the focus-on-the-night’s-mission bullshit I was just spouting to myself, the second I saw Scarlet here, she obliterated every other thought just like always. I should probably be worried about how she does that.
Christ, her skin is soft. My thumb skims back and forth over her wrist. So fucking soft. How on Earth can something so soft even exist?
Scarlet clears her throat and pulls her arm away from my grasp.
“Um, I made stuffed tortellini with artichoke hearts in a light cream sauce tonight,” she says. “I hope you enjoy.” She reaches over and lifts the dome off my food. Fragrant steam immediately rises up and warms my face.
It smells amazing and I’m torn between wanting to devour the food and throw it on the floor and eat out the woman who made it instead.
Scarlet smiles shyly at me and spears a tortellini off her own plate.
“Cheers.” She reaches over and pretends to clink her tortellini with one of my tortellini. Fucking cutest thing in the whole goddamned world.
Then she pops the stuffed pasta in her pink mouth and fuck if I’ve never been more jealous of a piece of food before.
Scarlet notices me watching her, more specifically watching her mouth, and she blushes.
“Would you like some wine? I found this delicious Moscato that’s just to die for. It’s so sweet and just mwah!” She kisses the tips of her fingers. “I wanted you to taste it. I don’t even care if it goes with this meal or not.” She reaches over to the middle of the table and pulls a bottle of wine from a bucket of ice, pops the temporary top she must have put on after pulling out the cork, and pours some into my glass then her own.
