Chapter Six
AUSTIN
“Hell of a night.” My reflection in the harsh lights of the mirror belied my words, my bright eyes and flushed cheeks not only the product of dancing for hours and receiving hefty tips. I hated to admit it might be because of Rhoades, but seeing him patiently sitting in his seat, sipping his scotch, never taking his eyes off me, sent ridiculous flutters through my stomach.
I skipped the usual after-work chatter about who won Most Drunk Patron and who was the best tipper. After José distributed the tips—I’d made a decent amount for a Tuesday night—I tucked the bills away in a special zippered pocket Frankie had made for each of us inside our backpacks. A quick shower to remove the oil and makeup and I was ready to meet Rhoades. Tonight he seemed different. No less possessive—I knew how badly he wanted me—I felt it in the strength of his arms when they held me earlier. But his words were more hesitant, almost shy when we talked. And I wondered where he wanted to take me.
“Bye, guys. See you tomorrow.”
“Good luck,” Morgan and Sonny chorused and then laughed. Cort nodded at me and mouthed, Be careful. They knew I was going out with Rhoades, but only Cort knew my true emotions. Morgan and Sonny were too new to the club, and I didn’t know them well enough to share my feelings.
When I walked out to the club floor, I hadn’t expected to find Rhoades sitting with my jacket on the chair opposite him, a margarita on the rocks waiting at my place. At my approach, he gestured to the glass.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I figured we could wind down with a drink first.”
I shrugged and slid into the seat. “Okay.”
Now that we were together and the lights were up and I was fully dressed, I felt more exposed than when I stood before him in only my skimpy shorts. There was nowhere for me to run.
“Thanks for the drink.”
The edges of his lips tipped up in a quick smile. “You’re welcome.” His slightly formal speech mystified me, and even though I’d promised myself not to delve into personal details, one question wouldn’t hurt.
“Did you grow up here? In America, I mean.”
He blinked, and I watched his hand tighten around his glass. “Both my parents were English, but I was born here. We moved to England when I was a baby, but when my mother died, my father came back here. I stayed in London and went to boarding school and then university until I came back home to work for my father.”
“That explains it.”
Once I came to live with my father, I’d seen many of my classmates shunted off to different boarding schools once they reached the right age. The mega-rich didn’t like having their kids around much. Too messy.
“Oh?” A brow, dark as a winter’s night, arched up. “Explains what?”
“Your accent. I wasn’t sure at first when I heard it where you were from. Now it makes sense to me.”
He gave me a small smile, a quick flicker of his lips, then sipped his drink.
English. That explained his name as well. I’d bet it was a family name.
We sat in silence, both of us pretending not to look at each other while we finished our drinks. I guessed Rhoades to be early thirties, but he gave the impression of someone much older. Someone tired of life. Once again, despite my earlier convictions, I couldn’t help but wonder about him.
“You also teach dance to little children? That must be challenging.”
I countered with my own question. “How do you know James? Are you business partners?”
“Something like that.” Whether it was the liquor or that Rhoades felt more comfortable, I didn’t know, but his face lost that taut, wary expression, and his eyes softened. “Is that what you want to do? Professionally, I mean. Dance onstage?”
“For a long time I believed so, yeah. Then I took a few classes in interior design. When I still lived at home, I had friends who lived in these beautiful apartments but kept them like shitholes. And I’d point out how a few things, like the right paint or a few key pieces of furniture, could change the whole look of a place. I think that how we live—our home environment, our living space—affects us as much as anything else. If you have an ugly place to come home to, you don’t want to come home.”
Realizing I’d sort of gone off on a speech, my cheeks heated with embarrassment and I ducked my head. “Sorry. I get kind of carried away.”
“Don’t ever be sorry for who you are.”
Our gazes locked. There was so much meaning behind those words; I wondered if Rhoades knew their power. I’d changed my whole life for who I was.
“I’m not.”
“Shall we go?” He drained his glass. The sight of his tongue sliding out to lick his lips mesmerized me. I recalled its silky texture and wanted his whiskey-tasting mouth on mine again. Irritated at how easily I became distracted by his cool, seductive demeanor, I tossed back the rest of my drink and crunched the ice cubes. I zipped up my jacket, more resolute than ever to remain strong.
“I’m ready. Where are we going?” We walked out of Man Up, and again, I wondered at his relationship with James that he could walk in and out without paying.
“Trust me?” He stood beside a black car waiting at the front. “I promise you’ll be safe.”
Trust me. How many times had those words been spoken to hide true intentions? Yet something told me Rhoades was different, and so before I knew what I was doing, I was inside the sedan, sliding along smooth leather seats, inhaling the once-familiar scent of luxury.
The car took off, and as it was now close to two a.m., there was little traffic on the streets except for yellow cabs. We hit the West Side Highway, and after a bit of stop-and-go, the drive was steady, the lights of the high-rises in New Jersey twinkling across the river.
The car exited on West Street, and we soon pulled up in front of an impressive building on Charles Street that, as far as I could see, wasn’t yet inhabited. Apprehension skittered through me, and Rhoades, who had his hand on the car door release, gave me a reassuring nod.
“I promise.”
Those succinct words were enough, apparently, as I was able to take a deep breath and exit the car on steady legs.
“Are you planning on living here?” I asked. He obviously had some connection to the building. It was, like I had suspected, unoccupied, yet he had the keys to unlock the front doors and walk inside. The building was close to completion, and the lobby was decorated in earth tones of sage, slate gray, and oatmeal. The floors were marble, and I glimpsed an outdoor atrium with soaring glass walls.
“I’m not certain. But I brought you here because the apartment is spectacular, and no one could be unhappy with such a view.” The elevator hummed, its doors sliding open in a hush, and I stepped inside after Rhoades. He placed a card against the keypad, and we ascended on a cushion of air.
The doors slid open directly to the apartment. Having grown up with all the luxuries my father threw at me, I wasn’t often dazzled, but the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the river and all the sparkling lights of the buildings left me speechless.
“Come.” He took me by the arm and drew me to his side. As we walked, I couldn’t take my eyes off the magnificent tableau in front of me, but I still managed to catch glimpses of the airy open space, the white gourmet kitchen, and the wide-plank, light-wood flooring.
Shoulder to shoulder we stood surveying the scene spread out before us. “It’s magnificent,” I said finally, forcing myself to turn away. “I think if I lived here, I’d never leave.”
“I feel that way sometimes.” Darkness intensified in Rhoades’s eyes, pulling me into their bottomless depths. “After the last few days you’ve had, I wanted you to see something special, to remind you that there is beauty in the world. Now that we’ve talked earlier and you’re here, I have an idea I want to discuss with you.” He touched his tie, and that slight nervous gesture surprised me. I’d imagined Rhoades always in complete control. But then I remembered his harsh, unsteady breath in my ear when we were together in the back room at Man Up. The dreaminess of the river view slipped away.
“I’m listening.”
“You mentioned you are interested in design.”
“Yes.” Now that I’d composed myself, I could concentrate on the inside of the apartment. I wandered away from Rhoades’s side, traversing the living expanse to lean against the waterfall island in the kitchen area. Rhoades joined me, standing on the opposite side of the marble slab, placing his palms flat on its pristine white surface.
“This building is almost ready for the units to be sold to the public. About half of the apartments have already gone to private buyers—ones who bought pre-construction and those we’ve reached out to earlier to see if there was interest.”
I knew how this worked. Buildings didn’t even have to be built, and they could have apartments presold. A buyer willing to drop millions would have very specific demands that the developer would be only too happy to provide for a guarantee to have the money in the bank.
“Okay.” I cocked my head and grinned. “I’m not sure where this is going, but I can’t afford even cabinet space in this building.”
“I know. That’s not what I need you for.”
My grin faded, and anger mixed with shame burned through me. He wanted to buy me. Give me an apartment here so he could come and fuck me whenever he wanted. I knew it. I—
“Stop it, Austin.” Rhoades circled around the center island to stand in front of me. “Before you launch yourself at me to attack, it’s not what you think.”
“What am I thinking?” I spit out and jammed my hands into my jacket pockets. “I’m sure you know everything.”
“I’m not planning on giving you an apartment here, nor am I planning on setting you up as my pet.”
“Oh.” My anger faded, and feeling foolish, I raked a hand through my hair. “Well, okay. So what is it, then?” Mollified, I allowed my curiosity to get the better of me.
Without answering, Rhoades walked to the center of the apartment. “If you were to furnish this apartment, what type of design do you see—modern, contemporary, or something else?”
“Why should I bother? I’m never going to live here.” I unzipped my jacket and leaned back against the island. “No one I know could afford to. I mean, I’m not even sure Marcus with all his money could live here.”
Rhoades chuckled. “Trust me. He could.”
“Well, maybe. But still.” I ran my finger over the cool surface of the marble. “Why should I bother? It’s a beautiful apartment, and someone will move in and furnish it. What does my opinion matter to you?”
“Humor me, please? What do you see for the living room? At least give me that.”
Like a guard dog, Rhoades wasn’t about to give up. I pushed off the island and walked around the room, eyeing the high ceilings, graceful columns, and the archways leading to the rooms deeper into the apartment, but keeping in mind the view would be the centerpiece of the apartment.
“The wide-open space means the furniture could be large, but I don’t see bulky, overstuffed pieces. Sleek and modern, almost minimalistic would fit best. Light-colored wood tables, perhaps with gold accents, the sofas and chairs comfortable but elegant with a pop of color, perhaps in a bright blue or cherry red.”
“I see. And barstools, I suppose, for the island?”
I made a face. “I’m so tired of that. Maybe chrome, fan-backed chairs like the ones at soda fountains, or modern cubes with cushions in the same pop of color as the living room furniture.”
I met Rhoades’s penetrating stare, my heart thudding a painful rhythm. “What? Does it sound so awful?” I shrugged. “You asked and—”
“I think it sounds perfect.” Two long strides brought him standing right in front of me. “Which brings me to the reason I asked you here in the first place. What would you say to me hiring you to stage this apartment for sale?”
Obviously the high altitude of the apartment had deprived him of necessary oxygen.
“Sure. And after that, I can do the Plaza Hotel and then the White House.” I snorted, but Rhoades remained subdued, and I grew angry. And when I got angry, I lashed out. “I told you I wanted to design, and I was serious. That doesn’t mean you make up some fake job, hoping I’ll fuck you to get hired.”
Rhoades flinched, his lips tightening to an angry, thin line. “Is that what you think? That I need to do that to get a man in my bed?” His eyes spat fire. “I can assure you I’m not that desperate. For you or anyone.”
My face burned, and my throat dried at his close proximity. My heart thudded, and I found it difficult to draw a breath.
His voice gentled, and he reached out to sweep the pad of his thumb across my hot cheek. “Not everyone is out to hurt you. Now, let me explain. I saw your sketches of Sparks.”
Shock raced through me. “What? How?”
“James and I were at the bar, talking about the place, and he got them from José.”
“Oh. They weren’t for public viewing.” When Rhoades remained silent, my gaze skittered up to him, then down to the floor, then back up again. “Um…did you think they were good?”
A smile softened his firm lips and lit his eyes. “More than good. After seeing those sketches, I thought to give you a chance to showcase your talent, which, from your suggestions here tonight, I’ve now deemed to be considerable. Why fight me?”
Good question. By every account, Rhoades had conducted himself like a gentleman. He’d had ample opportunity to kiss me in the hallway of the club or in the car on the way over. Even now, if he wanted to, he could. My dick throbbed, liking that idea, and from Rhoades’s piercing stare and the way his breathing quickened, he might be on the same wavelength as me, yet he didn’t move. I studied his face, the sweep of his long dark lashes against his cheeks, the high, proud forehead and straight, strong nose. His stubble-rough cheeks sat at odds with his well-cut suit and perfectly knotted tie. Why him of all people? Why did he make me want to know what lay beneath that inscrutable exterior?
“I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I—I don’t really think you’re making this all up to get me in bed. But I’m not used to people doing things without expectations, without wanting something…me…in return.” I hated how small my voice sounded, yet Rhoades made me feel like I’d run a marathon in the hot sun: dizzy, aching, and breathless.
“Oh, I expect from you.” A bright smile gleamed, lighting up his face. “If you agree to work for me, I expect two hundred percent. I expect beauty and elegance and a job you’ll be proud of.”
“But why me? You obviously have the budget to do anything you want.” Trapped between the island behind me and Rhoades in front, I inched sideways, and as if sensing my discomfort, Rhoades stepped back to give me space. “Why not choose someone famous, with a name?”
“I have someone for other buildings, but I enjoy showcasing new talents.” Back in control, he ran a hand through his hair and straightened his shoulders. “If you’re not interested…” He shrugged and walked across the apartment to gaze out the windows.
To work on a project such as this would be the dream of any experienced designer, never mind a fledgling designer with merely a dream to his name. I was many things, but a fool wasn’t one. By bringing me here tonight, talking to me like an equal and not a sex toy, Rhoades had taken a step toward proving he could win my trust.
Guarding my heart might prove to be more difficult.