CHAPTER FIVE
I arrived at the house early the next morning. My coffee was still hot, and as usual, it tasted delicious. Morning sunshine clamored through the small circle in the window, trying to cheer up the dull spaces in the room. I thought about my time with Grayson yesterday. I’d really enjoyed talking to him and hearing about all the wonderful places he’d traveled with his family. I’d felt as though I was living the experiences through his memories.
Even though there was an easy comfort between us, he was still hesitant to open up or to talk more about his past. There were times his memories would travel down a lush path, keeping me enthralled. Then he’d come to a sudden dead end. No matter how I pressed, he wouldn't detour around to continue. He’d simply change the subject and move down a different road.
I took another sip of coffee and smacked the flavor on my lips, loving the rich spice. It reminded me of Grayson, unique and addictive.
I wanted to get to the tall stacks of books cluttering the entrance. Maybe I could make an easier and more direct path to the back of the room. It was only nine o’clock. I wondered what Grayson was up to. I pictured his wide shoulders hovering over the computer keyboard. Or maybe he’d made my coffee and gone back to bed. Needless to say, that idea led my brain down a path where it conjured all sorts of sexy images: wrinkled sheets twisting around his long legs, a bare chest nestled against a pillow, his beautiful face and chiseled jaw relaxed in slumber with a slight frown marring his brow. I smiled. He always seemed to wear that frown.
Would he have a morning boner? I recalled this other impressive feature of his yummy body and my sex clenched.
Stifling a groan, I turned my gaze back to the stacks. There must’ve been a leak or small flood at some point because many of the books looked water damaged. I peered up to the impressive domed ceiling I’d admired on my first day, now noticing an intricate network of cracks that reminded me of delicate spider veins. I wondered what was going on above it. Most of the ceiling, though, was in good condition, with the lovely mural depicting pastel cherubs frolicking merrily.
I sighed, deciding that I needed help with the books. After all, four hands were better than two. God, I was so obvious! My grin filled with mischief and my breath quickened, excited by the thought of seeing Grayson. I headed toward the door to the upstairs. Grayson was coming down just as I reached the bottom step. I was caught by surprise, and I almost spilled my coffee.
“Careful with that,” he warned, his eyes bright and shining.
I blinked. “You were on your way down?”
He walked past me, shrugging his wide shoulders. I noticed his hair was damp, the gray almost invisible. He must have just come out of the shower. I wanted to groan out loud at the images knocking around in my brain.
“I figured I’d save you the trip upstairs.”
I opened and closed my mouth soundlessly, wondering if I should be affronted by his presumptuousness.
“Out with it,” he coaxed. “What task have you concocted for me today?”
I twisted my lips and regarded him, a hand landing on my hip. I guess I hadn’t realized I’d been interfering with his active social calendar.
“You sure you can fit me in to your busy day? I’m thrilled you’ve put me on your schedule.”
His lips jerked with a smile, almost a full one. My heart leapt. “Luckily there was room. There was a small space labeled miscellaneous. You got it.”
I made a face and turned away, trying to keep the twitch from my lips.
“Lucky me,” I threw cheekily over my shoulder.
“My thumbs are fully functional and ready to go,” he quipped.
From what I’ve seen, so is the rest of you… I took a large gulp of coffee and kept my back to him. I knew that my face must be beet red. Dear, God…this man…
“We should start with the tall stacks of books by the entrance. I’d like to get them out of the way.” When I didn’t hear a response, I twirled around to look at him. “Too much for you? Thumbs not up to the task?” I shot him a teasing smile, but the look on his face turned it to stone.
His lips were pinched tight and his brows zipped together, tracking across his forehead. His gaze was riveted on the giant stacks of books. I pivoted to look at them, then turned back to his hard stare.
“You can just help me move the heavy ones and we can get rid of the ones that are water damaged,” I said, guessing he might be concerned that we were throwing out books that were sentimental.
“No.” he grated roughly.
I shook my head, perplexed. “All of these books are really a fire hazard, especially when stacked as they are. Plus, you can’t even get around the room. They’re old and musty and contribute to the dust.”
“No!” he said more forcefully, causing me to frown at his tone. I didn’t understand.
“Why not get rid of them?” Surely he couldn’t like the mountain of debris. And even if he did, we could consolidate them and arrange them so the room wasn’t a hazardous death trap. My thoughts were scrambled and confused. I watched his inky lashes lower, but his expression didn’t lose its severity.
“I put them there. They protect me.”
I shook my head again, not sure I’d heard him correctly.
“What?”“The books, they keep me safe. They’re my protection. I won’t help you move them.”
I swiveled my gaze back to the stacks, almost doubting my ears. Had he really said that they protected him? Then like a puzzle, a pattern slowly emerged. The stacks of books, some taller, some shorter, barricaded the entrance of the house, almost like a castle wall. The stacks formed a thick layer, a fort blocking off the back of the room. It was a make-shift battlement of books with alternating merlons and crenels. It was only through the twisted path that you could gain access to where we were standing. I thought of the iron fence outside the house and realized that none of the other townhouses on the block had one. I swallowed hard and turned back to him, really not understanding.
“Keep you safe from what?” They were just books. If a burglar wanted to get into the house, he could still easily do so. A pile of books would not be a deterrent. The house already seemed to have a state-of-the-art security system. I told him that, but he didn't answer. He stood silent, his body rigid.
Charles had said that Grayson was particular and that he was paranoid. Was this part of his illness? Could this belief that piles of books can protect him be a product of his disordered thoughts? Up until now, Grayson had seemed pretty normal.
A strange despondence filled me, driving away my previous warmth. The last thing I wanted to do was to make a big deal about piles of old books, or make Grayson upset or feel uncomfortable.
“Okay,” I smiled and took a step toward him, hoping to thaw the sudden friction between us. He parried with a step back, looking wary.
I stopped in my tracks, taking a deep breath. I watched his face closely. His countenance was tense. His gaze was zipping around the room, suddenly skittish and leery, filled with anxiety.
“It’s okay, Grayson. We’ll leave the books as they are. I’ll assign you a different task.” I smiled gently. “Those fully functioning thumbs are still mine, right?”
His gaze skidded to mine, but he didn’t smile. I scanned the room, tapping a finger against my lip. I assigned him the task of stacking the portraits into two neat piles. His muscles visibly loosened as he headed in that direction, and I remembered a question I’d had for him.
“What do the numbers on the bottom of the paintings mean?”
He stopped and looked at me, a thumb jerking behind him to the beautiful rendition of himself. “That one?”
“Yes.”
The corner of his lips kicked up slightly. “The amount of times I almost strangled the artist.”
I laughed and rolled my eyes, relieved that he was back to himself. I’d been afraid he’d completely shut me out again.
“This particular artist had numbered every portrait he’d painted. I was number one thousand nine hundred and eighty,” he explained.
I nodded as he started toward the painting, thinking he was too unique to be just another number. My cell buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. A text. I rolled my eyes, thinking it was my sister again. She was excited about coming to stay with me and was making all sorts of plans. I reluctantly looked down at the phone. It was Charles.
Have dinner with me. Tonight.
I read the text and my gaze slid over to Grayson. He was just reaching out to grasp the frame of a large painting. I watched his muscles bunch and flex under his shirt and tried to ignore my pathological fascination with his body.
Chewing on my lip, I contemplated a response to Charles. There was no way in hell I’d ever date him. Even though I’d made that abundantly clear, he still wouldn’t take no for an answer. This was the second text I’d received from him in the last week asking me out.
My phone buzzed again and l looked down.
Let me take you to dinner. Any place you want. Le Cirque? Le Benardin? I’ll pick you up in the Bentley.
I snorted aloud, quieting when Grayson shot me a curious glance. Seriously? Was that supposed to impress me? Fancy restaurants and an expensive car? I silenced my phone and shoved it back into my pocket. Perhaps the best thing to do was ignore him. Hopefully he’d eventually get the message.
Over the next week, I made sure that I found one chore or another for Grayson to assist me with. It was sometimes the most menial of tasks. One afternoon I asked him to help me sort a pile of colored paperclips that I’d pulled from my backpack. He frowned, but sat next to me in my little oasis, putting them into piles of their respective color. I assured him that this was imperative in keeping me organized and would guarantee me all As in school. He lifted his brow in marked skepticism, but I swore I saw a fleeting smile play on his lips.
Heat fluttered up my arm each time our fingers accidentally brushed together and I tried not to read into the fact that he kept encroaching on my space, reaching for my pile of paperclips. I loved watching his long fingers dance as they sorted. I even found the tiny hairs on the back of his knuckles intriguing. I watched his eyes flick back and forth with concentration, and wondered if he knew I’d invented the task just to keep him nearby.
Determined to banish the thick layer of dust from the heavy drapery, one afternoon, I found a ladder and decided to tackle the onerous task. I was perched on the top rung, reaching for a dusty fold in the curtain when a deep voice sounded behind me. Startled, my arm jerked and I watched the duster drop to the floor with a thud. Frowning, I stared down into Grayson’s upturned face. He was standing at the bottom of the ladder, his forehead deeply creased and his hands planted on his narrow hips. He was wearing a loose white T-shirt and faded jeans. Gorgeous.
“What are you doing up there?” he asked.
Squashing the flutters in my belly from his sudden appearance, I smiled and waved casually.
“Dusting.”
He retrieved the duster from the floor and arced his head to look up at me. His lustrous eyes twinkled with amusement.
“It will be pretty difficult with this on the floor. Don’t take this the wrong way, but a self-proclaimed klutz should not be on a ladder.”
I snorted, again surprised by his bold teasing. Grayson’s words were usually measured, scarce, his humor like a clever afterthought. He’d say something and a minute later I’d find myself chuckling.
I started down the ladder to retrieve the duster, determined to glide down with the aplomb and grace of a queen. I scoffed, mildly irritated by his statement. I really wasn’t all thumbs. That had been a silly story I’d invented to procure his assistance. One that had worked admirably. But it was about time I told him the truth.
“I am not a—ahhhhhh!”
I was just about to set the record straight when my foot missed the second to last rung, and with arms flailing, my body went flying. My arms could have been propellers revving for flight, while my body was a stalled engine determined to crash in the opposite direction. It was only when strong arms gripped me, that I was able to upright myself and regain my equilibrium, if not my dignity.
We both stood there for a minute at the bottom of the ladder, surprised and breathing heavy. His arms were securely around me while my fists gripped the front of his shirt. There was not a molecule of space between us. Adrenaline was still pulsing though my veins, driving up my heart rate. I issued a nervous little laugh, mortified that I’d been anything but graceful. I knew, though, that it was Grayson’s nearness that kept me distracted and off kilter. Around him I was a klutz.
I was busy mentally berating myself when my senses backslapped me to stinging awareness. I couldn’t have contrived a better scenario.
Grayson’s solid body was fastened against mine. I did an internal happy dance and leaned impossibly closer, reveling in the feel of his tight body. Each glorious muscle was tensed with the force of his hold on me. His breath shuttled in and out, warm puffs like a heady cloud drugging my senses and flaming my desire. His mouth was mere inches from mine. I licked my lips, mad for a taste of him. That action shifted his gaze to my parted lips, and I could feel his chest rise and fall in earnest. I could also feel his dick growing thick against my abdomen and I started to overheat.
“You were saying?” His voice was raspy, barely reaching my ears. There might have even been a hint of humor. I wasn’t sure.
Huh? What? I could hardly think at the moment. Forming words was not on my brain’s list of priorities. Instinctively, I flexed my hips, bumping against the solid evidence of his arousal. God! He felt good! I circled my hips slowly and a low groan floated between us. I wasn’t sure if it had come from him, or myself, or both of us.
Grayson sighed and abruptly dropped his arms. Retrieving my duster for the second time, he handed it to me. I took it, trying to muster some semblance of control over my raging desire. My body was screaming for him to pull me back in his arms, for him to kiss me. My nipples beaded painfully. He turned, giving me his back, and I knew he was trying to conceal the massive erection that had been pressed against me.
“Grayson…”
I bit into my bottom lip. I wanted to desperately acknowledge what was happening between us.
“Be careful, Angie. I don’t want you to get hurt,” he tossed over his shoulder before he stalked off, heading upstairs.
I stood there, staring after him, wondering about his words. I didn’t think he’d been referring to the ladder.
The following week was extremely busy for me. I worked two twelve hour shifts at the hospital, trying to squeeze in studying whenever I could. Biochemistry was a demanding class that required an impossible amount of reading. Even if I forfeited all sleep and read straight through every night, I still wouldn’t be able to get through the requisite chapters for my exam.
I thought about Grayson constantly. My dreams were vivid with him. Even when he wasn’t at the forefront of my thoughts, he lingered in the background. My mind always found ways to reroute my thoughts to him.
Many times, I found myself sweetly daydreaming about his smiling blue eyes, about how the corners crinkled when he joked, or how that one brow shot up when he mocked me. I still didn’t understand his book-fort or why he felt he needed it, but it wasn’t easy getting inside Grayson’s head. He was still very guarded with his responses. I often had to steal answers from his facial expressions.
I thought I saw him on campus once. It was a late afternoon and I was coming out of the science building. My heart had leapt with joy at the sight of the familiar image across the street. I thought I recognized the height, build, and wavy dark hair, but when I looked again, he’d vanished. Since the night with Mark, I knew he followed me, but I was never sure of when or how often. There were moments I could almost feel his presence, but whenever I turned and searched for him, he was never to be found.
On Wednesday, I went back to the house, taking along my backpack stuffed with heavy books. I enlisted Grayson’s help with sorting through some of the old furniture that was in a haphazard pile. In order to get to a few of the pieces, I had to deconstruct several piles of his book fort. It was just a few piles toward the back of the room. When I asked him if it was okay, he just nodded. I asked if he was sure and he nodded again, but he didn’t help me. He found something else to occupy his time, sending me worried glances every now and then.
We were both moving a love seat with beautifully carved wood to the far side of the room when my cellphone buzzed. Setting down the couch, I pulled the device from my pocket. I read the text from my physics teacher and whooped joyously. Grayson stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. A streak of excitement zipped through me and without thinking, I flung my arms around his chest, hugging him tightly. His body instantly stiffened at the contact, but I was so elated that I held on and looked up into his face, smiling broadly.
“I got a sixty-five on my midterm!” I beamed.
He frowned deeply. “Last I heard, that’s not exactly a good grade. So much for your paperclips.”
I grinned. “It was the highest grade in the class! She’s curving the grades because it was such a hard test. So, I got an A!”
I was practically bursting out of my skin. Impulsively, I tiptoed and smacked my lips against his. The impact sizzled my flesh. I’d intended to pull back, but the feel of him against me was wonderfully intoxicating. I moved in closer and intensified the press of my lips, rubbing in lazy circles over his unresponsive mouth.
His breath sawed hard through his nostrils and stroked against my cheek, but he didn’t pull away. That inspired me, and I dragged the tip of my tongue along his mouth, wetting the seam of his lips. A groan purred from his throat and I opened my eyes to see that his were squeezed tightly shut. I could tell that he was struggling with a conflict, an internal battle of will. Determined to see his battle lost, I rocked my abdomen against an erection that was already impressive and still rapidly growing.
Another groan vibrated from his throat, deep and rough. His hand shot up and he sank his fingers into my ponytail, gripping it tight. He yanked my head back, abruptly breaking the kiss. Staring down at me, he pleated his forehead and his gaze zigged-zagged over my face. Heat burned my cheeks, and I knew desire must’ve been soaked in my eyes.
I wanted him. Badly. My skin was tingling with an excruciating desire for his touch and my pussy was slick with my need for him. I couldn’t explain this intense attraction I had for this man. Without warning, his parted lips swooped down on mine and he slid his tongue deep into my mouth. The contact was explosive. I garbled a few exclamations and moaned deeply, gliding my tongue against his. He tasted like raw sunshine. Hot. Sweet. Delicious. He ate hungrily at my lips, a ravenous claiming that had me panting harshly.
My fingers clawed through the silky waves of his hair, drawing his head even closer. I couldn’t get enough of him. I loved his taste. I loved his smell. I loved the feel of him against me. His other arm wrapped firmly around my waist, pulling me up on tiptoes. I arched into him, enjoying the insistent press of his hard cock.
My hand skimmed down his body and I gripped the heavy mass, rubbing and squeezing the swollen length through his jeans. I reached even lower and cupped his tight testicles, massaging them slowly before I returned my attention to his bulging shaft. Our groans mingled when his cock kicked and throbbed eagerly against my palm. I squeezed harder and swallowed the grunt from his throat. My body was on fire and flames licked torturously at my burning, wet pussy. God, I wanted him to fuck me. I craved an intimate connection with him.
Suddenly, he gripped my shoulders and thrust me away, holding me at arm’s length. His breath flung out in ragged exhalations, matching my own. I cried out like a whiny kid who’d had her treat taken away. The loss of contact was instant and distressing. It was painful physically and emotionally.
Grayson’s handsome face was gnarled with fury. “What are you trying to do to me? Did Charles put you up to this?”
“What?” I blinked, confused. My body still pulsed in one long, hot throb.
“Why. Are. You. Doing. This?” Each word was punctuated with a shake that rattled my teeth. His anger was gaining momentum.
I clawed out of my lust-filled haze and frowned. “No! No one put me up to this! I—I’m attracted to you.”
“Liar!” he bellowed.
I shook my head, tearing out of his tight grip. I was angry that he doubted the veracity of my feelings. “I am! Can’t you fucking tell? I’ve been practically throwing myself at you!”
His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed.
“What did Charles tell you?”
I looked away from his probing gaze, attempting to calm down. I hesitated, trying to decide what I should tell him. In the end I went with the truth. “That you’re not well. That you’re schizophrenic.”
His posture stiffened and what looked like pain darkened his eyes. “He’s right. I’ve been struggling with this since my mid-twenties.”
I felt his burden fill my soul to the edges, and my heart ached for him. Somewhere deep down I’d hoped Charles had lied to me, that he’d been playing games again. I took a step toward Grayson and he recoiled, jerking back as though my touch was destructive fire.
Although he’d confirmed his diagnosis, I was still reluctant to believe it. I wanted to learn more. I wanted to understand what life was like for him. Why did he choose to live here, isolated from the world in this broken-down house while his son luxuriated in a sumptuous penthouse? Why did this beautiful, intelligent man feel he needed to protect himself with a fort? How had he managed a multi-million dollar company with his illness? And, did he feel anything for me?
“You shouldn’t be here,” he sneered.
Tears stung my eyes at his bald-faced rejection. “Don’t push me away, please. Grayson, I really do care for you.”
“You don’t fucking know me! You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know my fears—my thoughts, the things in my head!”
A thin breath shuddered from my lungs, whispering through my parted lips. My tears began to roll down my cheeks because I felt hopeless. He was right. I didn’t know those things, and I was afraid he’d never let me in. He’d never trust me. I could see him putting up a wall, another fort, keeping me out. “Then tell me. Talk to me. Help me to understand.”
His face was like granite, the planes as sharp as cut stone and just as cold. “Get. Out. Of. This. House.”
I winced, every one of his words stung like a lash. I shook my head. I knew I must seem pathetic, but I didn’t care. God, I’d never cried over a guy before, never felt like this before.
“No,” I said in one last defiant attempt to take a stand.
Rage rushed through his features, and in a move that shocked my heart to stillness, he grabbed the table he’d constructed, and flung it across the room. It crashed into the portrait of him, the wood shattering the frame and slashing the canvas. The noise reverberated through my body like an echoing gong.
“GO!” he roared.
Grabbing my backpack, I ran from the house. I ran all the way home with my heart melting in my chest.
Friday night there was revelry on campus. Most of the students were leaving for vacation or going home for spring break week. Those left behind were determined to have a ‘staycation’ and to start it off with a bang. There were parties everywhere. Kim and Diane were throwing a huge rave down the hall. By the time I got home from work, Anna was chomping at the bit to head out. She was thrilled to be going to a college party. I was exhausted. I’d finished my last midterm the day before, and was still feeling the aftershocks. I’d just changed out of my nurse’s uniform when Anna burst through the door to my room.
“Aren’t you ready yet?”
I turned from the mirror and looked at her. Her eyes were shiny with excitement and she’d curled her long brown hair so it hung in loose waves around her shoulders. She had a beautiful heart shape face and big curious brown eyes—too curious, I mused. Anna and I had the same build, thin with long legs and overgrown breasts. But where I did my best to minimize my assets, Anna flaunted hers shamelessly. When I turned, my gaze went straight to her bulging breasts and her barely-there, low cut blouse. I gave her a look our mother would give her.
“You are not going out with me looking like that.” The worst part was I knew she’d enhanced her bosom with a Victoria Secrets’ miracle bra. It would seem that Victoria wasn't too good at keeping my sister’s secrets, and the miracle would be preventing her double Ds from falling out.
“What? They’re tits. What’s the big deal? If you got ‘em, flaunt ‘em!”
I thought about what had happened with Mark and my throat constricted. “No way, sis. You’re sending out the wrong message in that top. You’re going to a party where there’ll be drunk, horny guys. It can be dangerous.”
I saw her in the mirror mocking me, making faces at what I’d said. I took a deep breath, trying not to let her get to me. “Wear a different top or put on a sweater.” My tone brooked no discussion on the matter.
“Geez, you’re such a downer. You’ve been a total bitch this week!” She flounced out of the room, the girls leading the way.
I sighed, staring after her. She was right. I’d been cranky and on edge. I was suffering a malady of the spirit since Grayson’s rejection. My heart had been heavy since I left the townhouse on Tuesday. What was worse was that I could still taste his sweetness on my lips and feel the press of his body against mine. The silky texture of his hair was imprinted on my fingers. I longed for him with a yearning that frightened me.
Anna came back into the room wearing a sweater buttoned up to her neck. I smiled sweetly and she stuck out her tongue petulantly.
“I could wear a sheet over my head, too, if it will make you feel better.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” I smiled at her through the mirror and watched her dramatic eye roll.
“You’re worse than Mom sometimes.”
I ignored her. Done with my makeup, I grabbed my purse and we headed down the hall to the party.
Kim and Diane’s apartment was crowded with people. I had trouble seeing past the thick horde of bodies, and Anna and I had to elbow our way inside. Anna met a couple of undergrad girls who were quick to regale her with stories about the joys of college. I stood off to the side listening, wondering when they were going to get to the part about actually studying, going to classes, taking exams, and working your ass off.
I spotted Diane on the other side of the room. After whispering to Anna that I’d be right back, I pushed my way through the crowd toward her. She shot me a big smile and raised her cup. I liked Diane. She was also a nurse going for her graduate degree.
“To spring break!”
I smiled and nodded. I wasn’t drinking, so I didn't have a cup to raise.
“Hey, we had a meeting about the Work Horse petition the other day. It was a good turn out.”
“I had to work,” I explained, not wanting to get into why I wasn’t signing it.
I was about to ask her where Kim was when a blonde head caught my attention. Charles was staring at me from not too far away. I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like there were rocks in my belly. He winked amiably and raised his cup. I noticed that he had the undivided attention of several girls. I groaned inwardly and leaned into Diane.
“What is Charles Whitmore doing here?”
Diane laughed. “The blonde hottie? Don’t tell me you want him too? He’s a kid.”
I jerked back. “Eew. Not unless I want to catch cooties, and lose my self-respect.”
Diane’s shoulders shook with laughter. “He’s a friend of Kim’s. I think they’re friends with benefits.”
I saw Charles making his way through the crowd toward me and I groaned again. This night was turning out to be worse than I’d imagined. I wished I’d stayed home. Seeing him instantly made me think of the senior Whitmore, and the dull pain in my chest sharpened.
“Hey there, Ange!” he greeted, shooting me a lazy smile. Diane winked at me and strolled away.
“I was hoping you’d be here,” he continued.
I put on a plastic smile. “Kim and Diane are friends of mine.” I didn’t want to say that I lived down the hall, although I had a feeling he already knew that.
“Did you get my texts?”
I hesitated, then nodded.
“You didn’t respond.”
“Busy.”He made a sleazy perusal of my breasts and stepped closer. I countered with a step back, knowing that the alcohol and the party atmosphere was making him more courageous.
“You’re fucking hot, you know that?”
“I don’t think that’s an appropriate thing for a boss to say to his employee.”
“Fuck that.” He pushed back his blonde hair and leaned in.
“So, I’m making a lot of progress on the house.” I purposefully detoured as I stepped back. “There’s a lot of garbage. I think you’ll need a dumpster for all the stuff I’ve cleaned out.”
He pouted, not really seeming interested. “Talk to Jack. He handles that stuff.”
“It would be nice to clear out the upstairs too. It’s a mess.”
He instantly straightened, his expression sobering and his gaze zeroing in on my eyes for once. I realized what I’d said and my lungs stalled.
Shit on a stick!
“You’ve been upstairs?”
“N—not really.” My mind was groping for an explanation. He’d specifically told me not to venture upstairs. “I just peeked through the upstairs door. I’d wanted to see if there were cleaning supplies. It was before I got your delivery.”
“Did my father see you?” His thin brows pulled down suddenly.
My heart was doing double time. I tried to keep my tone even. “He ran away when he saw me. Scared the shit out of me, actually, so I went back downstairs.”
He let out a snide laugh and took a sip from his cup. “That sounds like him, alright. I told you to stay downstairs. Stay away from him. He’s very dangerous.”
I tilted my head and regarded him curiously. “I thought you said he was harmless, that I wouldn’t even know he’s there?”
“He can be volatile. It’s his mental illness. If he’s provoked, he’s dangerous. He doesn’t know what’s real and what’s not. You should just stay clear of him, to be safe.”
“No problem.” I nodded, a heavy disquiet settling over me.
“Look,” Charles sighed. “I just want the house cleaned up. You’re right. It’s not safe for him to live in the house the way it is. I worry about him. I wish he’d just move into someplace nicer, but he’s stubborn. He’s a sick man and can’t understand the danger. I’m afraid the house might just collapse on him one day. He doesn’t maintain it. Even though we’ve never seen eye to eye, he’s still my father. I don’t want him to get hurt.”
He smiled at me, all teeth. Suddenly, he was the innocent nineteen year old again, trying to be charming. “I know you’re a nurse and it’s sweet that you care.” He reached a hand toward my hair and I pulled away.
“Hello, there!” I turned as Anna sidled up to me, beaming at Charles. Her sweater was unbuttoned and hanging open. Oh my God, this was the night from hell. Dread settled in the pit of my stomach as Charles turned slowly toward her, his gaze caught in the beams of her two headlights.
“Well, who is this lovely?” He smiled slowly and said the words directly to her displayed cleavage.
“My sister,” I answered, stepping in front of her.
“Nice to meet you, my sista!” he grinned, sending Anna into girly chuckles.
I had a hard time finding anything that came out of his mouth funny. “I’ll catch you around, Mr. Whitmore,” I said pointedly, still blocking Anna.
Charles grinned down at me, a challenging gleam in his eyes. For the first time, I was actually worried. Talking to him always made me feel dirty, like I needed to take a shower, but the vibes I was catching from him lately had become more and more unsettling. He winked at Anna and then smiled at me before stepping away and blending into the crowd.
“I can’t believe you just fucking did that!” Anna exploded. “I’m mortified.”
I was pissed. “Button up that fucking sweater, or we’re leaving this second!”
“Why were you so rude to him? He’s so hot. You know I wanted to meet him,” Anna scoffed, her fingers working her buttons.
“Anna, he will eat you alive. He’s a total player, a pig! I just did you a mega favor, trust me.”
Anna glared at me and stomped back over to the girls she’d been talking to. I sighed heavily. Why, oh, why had I let her talk me into letting her stay with me?
It seemed like just last year she was a kid playing with Barbie and Ken dolls. What happened? Now her Barbie and Ken were doggie-styling it in their dream house. My parents were much better equipped to deal with her.
About a half hour later, I lost sight of Anna. Frustrated and angry, I looked everywhere for her. When I found her, she was sitting on a chair with Charles, growing out of his lap. She was giggling at something he’d said and the sound made my teeth hurt. Anger moved through me like a hurricane. I marched up to her and grabbed her arm, pulling her from on top of Charles.
“We’re leaving!” I hissed.
Her eyes splayed with shock, but thank God she didn’t make a scene.
I rounded on Charles, gritting my teeth. “She’s off limits.”
He stood and shot me a lazy grin, his gaze meandering down my body. “Whatever you say.” He leaned into my ear and whispered, “You’re the one I really want to fuck.”
I was fuming. I wanted to fucking quit my job right there and then. Fuck this damn job! Fuck it to hell! Fuck this egotistical prick. I knew the only reason he wanted me so badly was because I didn’t want him. I was a challenge, an object he needed to obtain to satisfy his colossal ego. This was all a big game to him. But I couldn’t give up my job. I needed the money. And honestly, the thought of never seeing Grayson again was unbearable.
I grabbed my sister and practically dragged her through the crowd and out the door.
I couldn't sleep. Anna and I got into a huge fight after we got back to the apartment. She said horrible things to me. She accused me of wanting Charles for myself, of being jealous of her. Scornfully, she dubbed me Ms. Perfect. Perfect daughter. Perfect role model. Perfectly boring. She said that I never took risks and that I never lived.
Those harsh words along with my conversation with Charles kept circling in my head. And layered on that were the things Grayson had said to me the last time I saw him. The look of distrust that had been on Grayson’s face haunted me. Why on earth would he think that Charles put me up to seducing him? Why would I not be attracted to him? He was a very handsome man.
I twisted and turned until the covers had me tangled up like a mummy. I closed my eyes and searched for sleep, but it stubbornly eluded me. I counted sheep. I counted clouds. I counted each time I imagined smacking Charles’ smug face. I pounded my pillow, took out my vibrator, and then returned it to my bedside drawer. I sat up in bed, rubbed my eyes, and then turned to the clock. Two am. Ugh!
My mind raced with preposterous ideas. I sighed deeply, making a bold decision. Not wanting to wake Anna, who was asleep in the room next door, I quickly dragged a jacket over my long night shirt, pushed my feet into my sneakers, and quietly slipped out the front door of my apartment.