Chapter 30
Luke had given him a look as they had walked out of The Oasis, but he was careful not to reciprocate back.
It suddenly felt wrong, his ulterior motive for being around Izzy. It suddenly made him feel slimy, especially now that she had told him things about her and her family.
Now that he understood her better, he preferred to look at tonight as a celebratory night out, and what he regretted was coming here, to Luke’s bar. It was a reminder of the part of the equation he preferred to forget.
Xavier had insisted on driving Izzy home, refusing to let her take the subway this late at night. And though he’d been expecting a tsunami of an argument, she had agreed. Maybe things were a little changed between them.
He parked outside her apartment, on the dimly lit street, and turned the engine off. “I’m not angling to come in,” he said. “I just want to make sure you get in okay.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s not so bad around here. You’re just used to your affluent areas.”
“We could stay here and talk some more,” he added, eager to let her know he wasn’t expecting her to rush out, either. Her opening up like she did earlier had broken down some of the walls between them, in his head at least.
“Thanks for this evening. I had a great time,” she said. “It was exactly what I needed.”
It made a change, her saying something nice to him, but then tonight had been a night of changes. “I never thought I’d hear you of all people, say something like that after a night out with me.”
“Me neither.”
“Let’s face it,” he said, grinning, “You coming out with me. Who would have thought?”
They smiled at one another.
“You’re okay, Laronde.”
“You’re just about bearable, Stone.”
She seemed to be hesitating, as if she had something to say and, sensing this, he waited, because Izzy wasn’t behaving the way she normally did around him.
“You might think I’m ungrateful and rude to you, most of the time.”
He wasn’t expecting this. “Sometimes,” he acknowledged, shifting in his seat. “I can see why I might grate on you.” What was this? Confession 101?
The pale yellow light from the street lamps was just enough to dimly light up her face, and though he couldn’t see her features clearly, he could see enough to determine her expression. “It was nice of you to offer to take me out.”
“It wasn’t a date, or anything,” he said, quickly. “I know my reputation bothers you.”
“It doesn’t bother me as much, these days, funnily.”
“No?” he asked, grinning.
“And you were on your best behavior.”
“I have to be, with you.” It was the truth. When he was around her, he had to lose the loose tongue and roving eye. Thinking about it, he hadn’t been interested in looking at other women, This evening had been more than enlightening and he could have easily spent a few more hours with her.
“You were on your best behavior for me?” she asked, trying to do her best impression of an airhead.
He shifted his body so that more of his back rested against the door. “You’re not my type, Miss Smartypants, and I get that I’m not yours, and this doesn’t have to be about us needing to make it anything else, because it’s not.”
Because he realized, despite having seen Luke, and being reminded of that ridiculous bet, that it wasn’t about getting her into bed. Hell, for the past month or so he had been so caught up in wanting the investment from Hennessy, that he hadn’t stopped to think how his getting-Laronde-into-bed plan had fallen to the wayside. He was having more fun getting to know this complicated woman, than he’d had having wild sex with someone.
For him, a connection such as this was as rare as a threesome.
“I know you’re probably 90% bravado, Stone, and 10% the real you.”
“That’s a high percentage.”
“But the 10% isn’t so bad.”
“Glad you find something about me that isn’t bad.”
She eyed him for a moment longer than usual, then turned away, her face curious. “Thanks for driving me home.”
“I wanted to make sure you were safe. I wasn’t coming onto you or anything.”
“You don’t need to always say that.”
“Okay.”
She turned and looked out of the window. “You wanted to know about that money that my pimp threw at my door.” She turned back at him, her dark eyes twinkling in the half-light.
It took him a moment to figure out what she was talking about. “I’m sorry. I jumped a mile high and reached the wrong conclusion that time.” He’d already apologized for that, and assumed she was bringing it up now because they were talking more, opening up more. The notion of getting to know her, through talking and finding out more about her—as opposed to diving into foreplay—was heady stuff. Something else he wasn’t used to. Hell, if he wasn’t careful, he might end up falling for this girl.
She chortled. “You thought I was pushing drugs and the addicts couldn’t slip the bills through the door?”
“I thought your pimp took too much of your money and had thrown the rest outside your door.”
“Sick,” she said,” shaking her head. “You have a very active imagination.”
He was about to say something inappropriate, but stopped himself. “Sorry,” he said, instead.
She hadn’t moved, didn’t look as if she was about to leave, and if truth be told, he was more content sitting in his car, in a dodgy neighborhood, listening to Laronde, than being any place else right now.
“You were partly right,” she said, her voice sounding shakier than he had ever heard it.
“Partly right?” He sat up taller. What the fuck did that mean? This was turning into a night of confessions and he was all ears.
“That money was from someone I used to work for.”
He looked at her wide-eyed, and more curious than ever. “What do you mean, ‘someone you used to work for?’” His mind wandered off to dark places.
“This guy I used to work for before. He came to my apartment, and he wanted to pay me off, but I took what he owed me and threw the rest of it back at him.”
“Pay you off?” He tried not to sound disgusted, tried not to think of the worst alternative. And what did she mean by ‘took what he owed her’?
“He wanted me to keep my mouth closed, because, earlier in the summer, when I’d been working for him and his wife, looking after their children, he abused his power. He was disgusting.”
Something inside him fell, like a piece of him, something from his bones, or his ribs, or his heart. “What did he do?” he asked, slowly, a bitter taste rising in his throat. She shook her head, and he didn’t push. “I left, and then luckily, or it maybe it was Karma, as Cara calls it, Savannah called and asked if I would like to come and work for her because she didn’t trust anyone else to look after Jacob.”
“When did you work for that guy?”
“Last summer.”
He had a million questions, wanted a name, wanted to know what had happened. Felt his rage building as he flexed his knuckles instinctively.
“But the money outside your apartment?” That had only been a recent thing. “It was only a few months ago.”
“Yes.”
He waited for her to say more, didn’t want to push her when already she had shared so much.
“I wanted to tell you, because I can see now how odd it must have looked to you.”
He felt like a real idiot, for thinking what he had at that time. “I’m sorry I said what I did. If I had known … I might have been more understanding. I’m sorry for being an ass.”
“Like I said, the scenario must have looked weird.”
“Yes.” But he could have been more understanding. Even when she’d been robbed, he’d behaved badly.
“It’s not the first time I’ve fucked up.”
“Thanks for the ride, and for dinner,” she said, suddenly getting ready to leave. He wondered if she’d realized she had shared too much and now regretted it.
“It was hardly dinner. I’m glad you told me, Izzy. And again, I’m sorry for being such a douchebag.” She had revealed so much about herself in the space of an evening that it had left him speechless. It had given him much to think about, so many scenarios and conversations in their short, rocky path to go back to and review.
He felt as if he had reached a place he could only have dreamed about a few months ago. He had always known there was more to her, that there were things he couldn’t begin to comprehend about Isabel Laronde, and now she had unveiled those very things in the short space of an evening.
He didn’t want to let her go; he wasn’t ready for her to go. He wanted to hold her, and hug her, and be there for her, because the way she looked right now, a little downcast, quieter, brought out the protector in him. He wanted a name, he wanted to know what had happened, he wanted to know who the fucker was, and where the fucker was, so that he could do something.
But, the truth was, he couldn’t say or do anything. He would have to be patient and wait, and be there. For her.
“Thanks for hardly dinner, then. I really needed to be with people tonight, with someone.”
“Glad I could help out in that respect.” He smiled. “I’ve ordered you another MacBook,” he told her. “I’ve ordered it for the business,” he said, correcting himself at warp-speed. “The insurance paid out.”
“I’ll try not to get robbed like that again.”
She had a hopeless, unsure expression on her face. The kind of look he’d seen in a hundred girls before. It felt as if they were on the precipice of something.
Only this was Laronde.
It would take a kiss, some touching, and stroking of her face, saying all the right words—careful words, it being her, but he could say something. And he could get on his way to winning that prize.
Only it wasn’t right.
This wasn’t how he wanted it. Because maybe this was the start of Laronde getting to trust him.
Laronde. Trusting him.
He couldn’t fuck that up for anything.
“I’ll try not to behave like a douchebag again, if you do.”
He watched her go inside, and stayed there, parked outside the street for a few moments longer than he should have. And he sat and contemplated what she had just told him.
~ ~ ~
The living room light and the TV were off when she walked back into her apartment.
But then again, it was after 11, and she wasn’t surprised that Cara had gone to bed. They had ended up at the bar for almost four hours.
Who would have thought?
Shrugging off her shoes, and her thick coat, she walked into the kitchen to make herself a cup of herbal tea. She still needed to look through some of her notes before going to bed.
“Where were you?” Cara stood in the doorframe of the kitchen, wearing an oversized sweatshirt, half yawning. “You said you didn’t want to come to the party, and I get back and you’re not here.”
“Go back to bed. There’s nothing to tell.”
“I was worried.” Her friend walked in and leaned against one of the countertops. “I thought Shoemoney might have come back and abducted you.”
“Now you’re being silly.”
“Then where were you?”
“Xavier asked me to go out to this fancy bar—
“Oh, mama mia!” cried Cara, rubbing her hands together excitedly.
“Only because he got the investment he needed, and he said he wanted to celebrate.”
“Yes, yes … if that’s what you want to believe, carry on.”
“It is because he got the investment,” she insisted. “He was in a celebratory mood.”
“Tell me more,” said Cara, pushing herself up onto the countertop. “Where did you go? What did you do?”
“We went some place called The Oasis.”
“The Oasis?! Did you go to The Vault?” she asked, “It’s the hip and trendy club in the basement.”
“No, we just sat in the bar and talked.”
“I think he’s got a soft spot for you.”
“You would.”
“No, I really believe that.”
“I know. You would.”
Cara tut-tutted. “Is he single?”
“How should I know?” She shook her head. “And why are you asking?”
“Because I want to date him.” She rolled her eyes. “Why do you think?” And then, without giving her a chance to reply, “What happened next?”
“We had snacks, caught up on stuff. He might be able to offer me extra work now.”
“Yeah?” Cara didn’t seem interested. Izzy didn’t dare say it was 20 hours, because, despite what Xavier said, she got the feeling his business dealings were ad hoc, and she didn’t want to get too excited too early.
“Did he offer you anything else?” The naughty expression on Cara’s face indicated that she had non-business like dealings on her mind.
“No.”
“He’s single, according to Gisele Steiner’s social media updates.”
“What are you doing stalking Gisele Steiner?”
“Being your wing woman.”
“Oh, for goodness sake,” Izzy picked up her cup. “Xavier Stone and I have nothing in common. Nothing.”
“That’s what you think.” Cara slipped off the countertop. “You’ll tell me I’m right, eventually. Goodnight.”
Izzy sat down on the couch, and got out her notes, and wondered how it was that she had revealed so much of herself to Xavier Stone, than she ever had to anyone else.