Chapter 15
Esme was just pulling on a skirt when she heard a faint knock at her door.
Thinking it was Rayna, she called out, “Come in!”
When the grainy wood swung open, there stood Prettyboy.
“Hey,” He said.
Esme’s head snapped up as she buttoned the leather skirt Rayna had practically forced her to borrow for the night.
“Hi,” She said.
Prettyboy was leaning against the doorframe, his wide shoulders stretching a perfectly good white t-shirt to the point of almost ripping.
His black jeans were tight in enough places to make Esme blush all over again.
Fuck. Me.
“How ya doin’?”
Even though her mind was still reeling from her interaction with Axel earlier, Esme couldn't deny she was excited to see Prettyboy standing in her doorway.
“Let me guess, you heard about my little…episode?”
Prettyboy shrugged before he sauntered into her room like he fucking owned it, his green eyes trained on her outfit.
Just as he reached her, he slipped one hand along the hem of her short skirt and tugged on it.
“You sure you wanna wear this tonight?”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You tryin’ to tell me what to do? ‘Cause I gotta say, that shit doesn't fly with me.”
Prettyboy’s eyes crinkled at the corners, something that made Esme want to rip the blasted bandana right off.
“I ain’t tellin’ you what to do, Esme. I like what you’re wearin’. I like it a lot. I just wonder if you realize that every other man on this fuckin’ lot is gonna like it, too?”
Esmeralda stepped towards him, his hand now brushing the tender skin between her thighs.
His eyes grew hazy as she stared up at him.
“So what if they do?”
Prettyboy’s fingers twitched between her thighs, the edges of his nails causing goosebumps to break out across her skin.
“You ain’t ready for me to touch you,” He breathed heavily.
Esme wasn't sure what she was ready for, but Prettyboy touching her?
Well, that sounded like a fantastic idea.
Shit, it sounded like the best idea she’d had in a long, long time.
Chris was the farthest thing from her mind for the first time in months, and the idea of moving forward was exhilarating.
Esme licked her bottom lip before she clenched her thighs together, clamping his hand between them.
His eyes widened and Esme was almost positive he was holding his breath when she asked, “Do you want to touch me?”
Prettyboy’s hand inched higher, his fingers just barely grazing her pantyline when they heard a knock on the door behind them.
Esme jumped and Prettyboy slowly retracted his hand from her skin.
“Hey, Fury and Axel are about to fight, you two comin’ to watch?”
Esme glanced up at Rider, who was watching the both of them curiously.
“On my way,” Prettyboy said as he watched Esme closely.
“Oh-kayy,” Rider said awkwardly as he left them alone.
Esme breathed a sigh of relief and moved to step around Prettyboy, but he caught her by the arm.
“Wait. I got somethin’ for you.”
She waited for him to give her whatever he had to give her.
She grinned like an idiot when he pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her.
“Read it later, when you find yourself thinking about me.”
Esme snorted.
“I always find myself thinking of you,” She admitted.
When she realized she’d thought that out loud, she looked up at Prettyboy nervously.
“I wish I could kiss you right now, but we’re not there yet. Come on, let’s head outside. I’m sure Axel will want to see you.”
Esme froze, unsure of whether or not she should mention the kiss between her and Axel.
“What? What’s the matter?”
“I-Axel visited me. Earlier, that is.”
Prettyboy nodded, as if he already knew that.
“He said a…few things. About you.”
“What did he say?,” Prettyboy asked.
Esme sighed, her fingers nervously playing with the edges of the fringed halter top she was wearing.
“He didn't say anything bad, he complimented you, but he just- he kissed me.”
Prettyboy’s jade eyes were wide.
“He kissed you?”
“Yes, but it wasn't a romantic kiss. He said he just wanted one…before he let me go,” Esme told him.
“Did you enjoy it?”
“The kiss?”
“Yes, Esme, the kiss. Did you want him to do it again?,” Prettyboy asked.
Esme could tell he was pissed, and maybe she shouldn't have said anything, but she’d rather be up front about the fact that it happened with Prettyboy than have him find out about it later.
“I let him have one kiss. He deserved at least that much after taking care of my crazy ass for six months.”
Prettyboy nodded, but he didn't move to grab her hand again as he started walking towards the rear exit of the clubhouse.
“Hey!”
He stopped walking, but he didn't turn around.
Esme sighed, aggravated, and caught up with him, his note still tucked into her palm.
“Don’t you think it’s a little early for us to have a lover’s quarrel? I told you because I was being honest with you. I said he kissed me. I can handle a little jealousy, in fact I love it, but don't be pissed at him. It takes a big man to step aside the way he did today,” Esme defended.
Prettyboy nodded, his hair falling down around his chin.
“I know it does.”
Esme turned him to face her, a small smile on her lips.
“So, where are you going?”
“I’m going to kick his ass in the cage.”
His words had her mouth falling open.
“Come on, no!”
Prettyboy’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her.
“You don’t think I can beat him?”
Esme hurried to assure him that she didn't doubt him in the least.
"Prettyboy, I may not know everything about you, but I know a determined man when I see one. I'm sure you could beat Axel if you wanted to. What I'm telling you is that you don't have to. You've already won."
Prettyboy's shoulders relaxed as he looked over at her through his long lashes.
"Okay. Message received."
Esme smiled victoriously.
“How about we separate for an hour? I’ll go have a drink, read your fifth secret, and then you can come find me. Deal?”
Prettyboy slowly nodded.
“I like you, okay? I like you a lot. It’s taken a lot out of me to finally be okay with that, so don’t fuck this up,” Esme said as she poked him in his rock hard abdomen.
She heard him laugh deeply beneath the bandana before he finally held his hands up and nodded.
“You’re right. I’m bein’ an ass hole. I’m sorry.”
Her smile was blinding, but he didn't complain.
“See you later,” She said as she turned back towards the great room.
“See ya later,” He said softly.
Esme didn't glance back at him even though she was practically dying to do so, and instead headed right for the bar.
Torch was behind the worn wood, just like she’d expected him to be.
“How ya doin’?,” He asked.
She glared at him.
“Are you being nice to me now?”
“I’ve had a change of heart,” He said blandly.
“Fine. Give me a glass of whiskey.”
“You got it,” He said.
“Esmeralda Quinn, you’re looking delectable tonight,” Green said.
“You sure do know how to compliment a lady,” She giggled as she looked at him.
He slammed his palms onto the bar and shrugged, his smile handsome as hell.
“I’m what the people would call a modern Casanova,” He said as he laid one hand over his heart.
Esme snorted.
“I’ve literally never seen you with a woman.”
Torch slid a glass her way and she took it gratefully.
“I’ll have you know I’ve had tons of women!,” Green argued.
“Giving your hands different names every night does not classify them as ‘tons of women,’” Limit said from behind Green.
Esme laughed so hard she almost spilled the whiskey in her glass, but Green started laughing right along with her.
“Touché, ass hole. Come on, Esme. Let’s go see your man fight.”
Esme winced at the mention of Axel, and she rushed to tell Green, “He’s not mine.”
Green slanted her a look that told her he knew that.
“Woman, I was only joking.”
“Joking, right.”
Esmeralda worked double time to swallow the whiskey in her cup as she pressed Prettyboy’s note against her bare thigh.
“You feelin’ any better?,” Green asked.
Esme shrugged.
“How many times can I lose it before there’s nothing left to lose?”
“That’s a damn good question that only you know the answer to.”
“I think everyone else is right, and I do need to move on…I just don't know how to do it,” Esme said.
Green wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he led her through the crowd, closer to the cage.
“Take some advice from Casanova, okay? Life is fuckin’ short. If Wilder’s death taught you anything, it should be that. Living every day in his shadow is a disservice to his memory. Nobody here is judgin’ you for losin’ your shit, sweetheart. You just gotta remember that whether you want it to or not, life will go on.”
Esme understood what he was saying, and Green was right.
They all were.
Living her life inside of the same four walls dedicated to a marriage that was no longer relevant was doing Chris’s memory and herself a disservice.
Fuck, she was wasting away.
The onslaught of memories that she’d been assaulted with since she left Axel’s clubhouse, her home, were brutal.
Losing Chris, was brutal.
Yet, here these people were, offering her an alternative solution: happiness.
She could either wallow in misery, or she could take what the fuck they were offering her, and be happy.
“You’re right.”
Green tightened his hold on her as they neared the cage.
“I know I am.”
Esme leaned into his warm side as she pulled her note up toward the waning sunlight.
Her name was written across the front of the small square, just like all the other notes he’d left her.
Excitement bubbled up inside of her as she began to unfold the letter, but as soon as she realized it was an actual letter, she looked up at Green.
“Hey, I’m gonna head inside and go to the bathroom. Let me know who wins.”
Green rolled his eyes as he pointed towards Fury’s end of the cage.
“Fury always wins.”
Esme couldn't help but laugh as she called back, “Where have I heard that before?”
Esme was careful as she headed inside and found the access hatch to the roof. The clubhouse wasn't a tall building, but she could see everything from the fiery sunset to the crowd below as she settled on edge of the roof.
Prettyboy’s note was practically burning a hole in her hand, so she hurried to unwrap it.
Esme,
This one’s a long one.
I know you like to read, so I didn't think you’d mind it. I hope these notes don't seem juvenile to you, but I never have been good at communicating.
This note is a little different. At first, I was sure I’d have the courage to tell you this face to face, but alas, I couldn't find the right words to say. Honestly, I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to figure out just what the hell I wanted to tell you, but nothing came to mind…
Until I thought about your smile.
It’s amazing how something so simple can change the entire inflection of a conversation, don't you think? For instance, if you knew how often you make me smile, you wouldn't have to wonder about what my intentions are with you. As a man, I should be confident enough to tell you exactly what I want from you, but I guess just like you, I’ve been lost for a while.
I didn't know what I wanted, until Fury pointed out that maybe, I could have you.
I understand that you’re hurting. I know how that feels, too. I know how lonely it can feel, even when you’re standing in the middle of a crowded room. Are you ready for my secret, Esme?
Here it comes: I was there the night of Chris’s wake. I saw you there, in your pretty black dress. I didn't know who you were at first, but I wanted to talk to you that very second. Something inside of me shifted the second my eyes fell on you, but then I realized you were his widow.
You instantly became untouchable to me, and could I even blame the universe?
The chances of a woman like you falling for a man like me are slim to none on a good day, and I’m no stranger to that fact.
Even as you read this, I want you to know that you don't owe me anything. You don't have to respond. I don't expect a damn thing of you.
But, I thought you deserved a little honesty.
You asked me the other night if I’m a good man?
I don’t think so.
I’ve done a lot of bad in my life, I’ve hurt a lot of people, including people I care about.
Karma got me good though, it burned up half of my body with it’s fury.
So, back to the point of this letter-my intentions with you.
What I want, and what I can have are two very different things. In fact, they depend entirely on you. What I want is to learn you, explore you, memorize every inch of you. What I want is to show you every corner of my soul and know that sharing myself with you will be enough to convince you of my affections.
I may have done a lot of bad in my life, but I can promise you that the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.
I would never hurt you, Esmeralda Quinn.
Yours if you’ll have me,
Damon Michael
Esme stared at the letter in her hands for a long time before she found the energy to fold it back into a perfect square and tuck it into the pocket of her leather jacket.
Prettyboy’s words were on repeat as they scrolled through her head.
He knew who I was?
He remembered me?
He wants to keep me?
It was a lot to take in, honestly.
Damon Michael was a lot to take in.
Esme’s head was on overload, and for the first time, all she wanted to do was follow her heart.
Sure, Chris still had a large hold over that particular part of her- why wouldn't he?
But, would it really be so bad if she let someone else in?
He wouldn't want her to turn down every man that looked her way, she knew that. But, was it too soon? Did the timing of it all really matter in the grand scheme of things?
The reality of the situation wouldn't change.
Chris would still be dead.
She’d still be right where she was.
As she sipped her whiskey until the very last drop was gone, she imagined many different ways she could proceed with the information she’d just inhaled like it was the only oxygen she had left.
She could sink, or she could swim.
The question was: could she survive Prettyboy’s current?