For my friend, Daniela.
Chapter One
I could feel his stare weighing on me, heavy and warm like a blanket I didn’t ask for but appreciated all the same. My hand trembled as I slid my gold key into the slot of the deadbolt, securely locking my door. I didn’t live in a bad neighborhood, so my sudden unsteadiness wasn’t due to fear. It was because I knew this man should not stir the feelings he was rousing inside of me.
Don’t look…
Sliding my ornate key into the narrow pocket of my Dior clutch, I tried to hide my body’s response to his attention. He pretended to sort a handful of mail outside of his apartment door, his tailored clothing the usual high-end office attire, and the golden stubble covering his jaw proof of a long day’s work.
No one read their mail in the hall. They grabbed it from the lobby and dumped it on their counter when they walked in the door. Yet he eye fucked each envelope with the same intensity one reviewed a life or death contract. I doubted he read a single word.
Bingo. With a flick of his thick lashes, blond enough to give his blue eyes a dramatic gilded fringe, his gaze left the mail and landed on me. I looked away because there wasn’t time to play coy and the last thing I needed was another man in my life.
We lived in a civil war era mansion renovated into apartments, located on Delancey Street in the Rittenhouse section of Old City Philadelphia—a place college students shouldn’t be able to afford. But I wasn’t an ordinary college student. My life was full of exploits most women couldn’t imagine—and some wouldn’t want to.
It was the second time he and I crossed paths since I’d moved in, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. I should say hello, introduce myself, do the upper class, neighborly thing, but there wasn’t time. A luxury sports car waited for me out front and I couldn’t keep my client waiting.
A shiver raced down my spine as my neighbor’s attention lingered and my eyes slowly blinked. The heat of his stare teased at the base of my back, exposed by my ebony, couture midi dress. Why did he have to look at me like that?
I knew my ass looked phenomenal, and it should for the amount of time I spent sweating it off at the gym every dawn. But my curves and this dress weren’t for him. I wasn’t for him. And by the look of his high-end, tailored suit and unquestionable attractiveness paired with his young age, I knew, without a doubt, he wasn’t for me.
He was for some pretty, little, pedigreed female, born and raised around old money, pampered and gently disciplined to always pick up the correct silver spoon at a formal table, and never go slumming in the places I’ve been. Yup, I definitely wasn’t his type.
Keeping my lashes low, my lips formed the thinnest smile as I tossed him a brief sideways glance and my heart lamented the death of possibilities that could never be. His mouth opened by the slightest degree and I felt the corner of my smile pull tight with genuine satisfaction.
Yeah, he’s gawking. If only he knew…
Girls like me didn’t know the meaning of vain growing up, but the city had taught me well. I couldn’t deny it felt nice to have an attractive man’s full focus. I was rarely short of attention, but such serendipitous attention… He was the dangerous sort of connoisseur because he was so undeniably handsome he didn’t require assistance finding dates.
Affluence and good looks with a hint of arrogance hid in those deep blue eyes. And the sheer size of his hands, the breadth of his shoulders, and the smolder of his gaze… It was enough to suck the air right out of our private, little hallway.
My manicured finger nudged the elevator button to a golden glow as the antique dial ticked up to our floor. My will trembled as I demanded I not look back. I worked damn hard to get here and I couldn’t afford any distractions. Literally.
Ten seconds left.
His throat cleared just as the brass dial hit our floor and the doors parted with a delicate ping. The slender four-inch heels of my Prada pumps crossed the threshold, my mind waiting for the precise moment I’d make eye contact, knowing full well it would be sharp and jolting, like a roller coaster letting go at the top of a steep hill.
Eyes down, I stepped over the threshold and turned, still not giving him the satisfaction of registering his presence. I’d mastered the art of coy and unknowing, but normally there wasn’t much risk involved. Well, not the sort that scared me. I might look delicate, but I could make a grown man cry.
Eye contact was a gamble I shouldn’t take with him. But I wanted to see his response to my gaze. Would he suck in a sharp breath, hold it? Look away? My insides clenched with acute anticipation. I needed to experience that intoxicating split second in time when he knew I noticed him—when I chose to do so.
I wasn’t a bitch and I wasn’t self-centered, but I was alone in a scary world with a dirty history and my façade was the only veneer protecting me from a muddied past. My appearance was the opaque distraction hiding the girl I used to be from the world I desperately wanted to belong to.
It was a role I needed to flawlessly portray, my chance to bury my past once and for all. I was never going back to where I came from, back to being that girl. Avery Johansson was my present and my future, so that was the only woman he and every other man would ever see.
Tipping my head at just the right angle to show off the contours of my high cheekbones and smoky eyes, I slowly raised my gaze, pretending to notice him for the first time. My fingers already called the doors to close, but there it was… Intense, provocative desire thrumming through the charged air as this silent game of how good we could fuck played out in a snapshot of time that would never come true. And he drew in that breath just as I’d hoped he would—a reward for him, a reward for me. A shame we’d never actually fuck.
“Wait—”
The door closed and I let out a relieved breath, a twisted smirk pulling at the corner of my mouth. I loved playing cat and mouse, but only when I was the cat.
I wouldn’t necessarily classify him as mousey or timid. Despite his glacier good looks and palpable, pretty boy propriety, there was something savage hiding under the surface, something untamed. It was dangerous to taunt a tiger. Maybe that’s why my panties were wet, because I knew I was doing something I shouldn’t.
A satisfied heat coiled in my stomach as I stashed away all thoughts of my sexy neighbor and focused on the evening ahead. But the thought of him didn’t go away easily. It was as if I had to carefully fold each memory into the tightest origami and tuck it somewhere out of reach. I’d never resist the temptation to keep considering all the various positions we could find ourselves in, dwelling on his every sexy detail down to the delicate divot of his upper lip.
He certainly was handsome. Masculine yet beautiful. Devastating eyes. A true distraction that lingered long after I willed myself to stop imagining him—naked—at my feet—on his knees.
The elevator jostled and slowed as I drew in a bracing breath and tightened my posture just before the doors opened to the lobby. Shoulders back, tits out. Showtime.
Pasting on a pleasant smile, I sashayed out of the lobby and offered the concierge a polite nod as he held the door. All personal details about myself were masterfully disguised as I took that first step into the evening, autumn air.
The sleek Aston Martin Rapide idled silently by the curb as I carefully navigated the brick and cobblestone sidewalk in my pumps. My date, a man with passable looks, a receding hairline, and a designer suit I knew he didn’t choose himself, appeared beside the driver’s door and grinned.
His gaze measured me from head to toe, undeniable approval reflecting in his eyes. Not devastating eyes like the pair that studied me upstairs, but older, worn by time and the stress that came with a hard-earned fortune and little time to play.
“Avery,” he greeted affectionately, gently clasping my elbow and leaning in as if intending to kiss my cheek but not daring to actually put his lips on me. “You’re stunning, as usual.”
The musk of his cologne lingered on my cheek, a scent I’d be wearing all night once I sat in his car. It wasn’t an unpleasant fragrance. To be honest, I liked it more than most. But there was nothing I favored more than a man’s natural scent, clean from the shower without a trace of femininity. I wished someone would let men know I wasn’t the only woman who felt that way.
“It’s nice to see you again, David. I’ve missed you.” I hadn’t, but this was the role I played.
He opened my door, his chivalry noted and appreciated—an occupational perk I often enjoyed. Once he was behind the wheel he glanced at me and smiled. I returned the gesture because it was expected.
“Dinner first?”
I’d already eaten, but he didn’t need to know that. “Sure. Where would you like to go? You always find the best hidden gems in the city.” He didn’t. He went to all the usual rich and famous haunts, but the goal here was to make him feel superior and unique. Reminding him he wasn’t my only Daddy would be an extreme faux pas. I knew better and that was part of what made me good at my job.
“I have the perfect place in mind.”
The car shifted, its quality and design evident in the way the leather seat hugged my body at the slightest turn. Another luxury I relished, one I never imagined two years ago when I left my home in Blackwater.
Shelving the brief recollection of my old, dilapidated mobile home—manufactured home to be more PC—I focused on the present. That shelf where I kept the memories I never talked about, was getting cluttered. Unreturned phone calls from Momma, friend requests from old acquaintances left in social media purgatory, and too many dusty recollections to count. But I kept squeezing my dirty past anywhere it would fit, ‘cause I ain’t never going back to that hellhole…
This was where I belonged and planned to stay.