CHAPTER FOUR
Blue or Red
Felicity
1:21 a.m.
Thou shalt not judge thyself harshly.
Thou shalt not judge thyself harshly.
Thou shalt not judge thyself harshly.
I kept telling myself that as I stood under his hot shower, trying to wash away every sinful thing we had done in the last four hours. I didn’t know him! It was supposed to be one screw, then while he was sleeping, I’d planned to disappear into the night and never cross paths with him again.
We fucked.
We ate and talked about nothing important or deep, like who our favorite teams were, which didn’t really matter since neither of us liked sports all that much. At least not football or basketball. Sex though, we had that in common. I could still feel his hands on my thighs.
Stop, Felicity, stop!
Why though? Why couldn’t two people who liked sex just have sex? Why did I feel so dirty and guilty?
Societal guilt. Mark’s voice popped up in my head, and I remembered what he had told me when I first realized his nights were a lot more NC-17 than R-rated. When he said he was going on dates, I’d thought he meant dinner, hanging out, getting to know one another. But instead he was going over when she or he wanted him, they’d screw each other’s brains out, and then he’d leave.
My first rational thought was that couldn’t be healthy. You couldn’t just go out and screw people. A one-night stand here and there was fine, but to live like that…. Wasn’t there something wrong with that?
He had said the reason I thought like that was because of societal guilt. That we lived in a society that was so hung up on sex, we boiled it down to stupid questions concerning who we should have it with and after how many dates it was okay. Or had thoughts like not to have too many partners or else we were sluts and man-whores. Too little and we were prudes. Why? Why? There wasn’t really an answer because the most important questions, the questions we should only consider when having sex were:
One: was it legal?
Two: was I safe?
And three: most importantly, was I happy in the situation I was in?
That’s it.
Turning off the water, I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me as I stepped out onto the plush white mat in his bathroom. I didn’t want to stay here any longer than I needed to. I slipped my dress on before taking another towel for my hair. I tried to dry it off as much as possible, even though I knew it was useless. Part of me wished Cleo had somehow magically put a mini blow dryer in my purse. However, the toothpaste and toothbrush were a godsend.
“Jesus,” I gasped as I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a wet, wavy mess, my dress was wrinkled, and to top it off, I could clearly see the dark red hickeys he’d left on my neck and the tops of my breasts. What was worse was I remembered how I’d gotten each and every one of them.
Touching the one on the right side of my neck, I clenched my legs together as I remembered how he’d kissed and sucked on me while I’d held on to him tighter as he thrust harshly into me.
“Stop,” I whispered. I packed up all my things, took a deep breath, and opened the bathroom door. But he was no longer in bed. The only evidence either of us had been there were the messy sheets, which I had the urge to fix.
Leave, Felicity.
“Right,” I muttered as I grabbed my shoes. That I had made it to the bedroom with them on was amazing in and of itself.
I eased the door open and tiptoed toward the exit.
“You’re trying to escape like a sinner in church,” he said behind me.
So close.
I spun around, and the moment I did, I wished I hadn’t because he was wearing nothing but gray pajama bottoms. My gaze drifted along each one of his abs, down to his….
“Aren’t we all sinners in church?” I shot back, trying to clear my head as I stood straighter.
“Touché.” He drank wine from his glass. “But before you go, I need your help with something.”
“This isn’t an excuse to get me in bed again, is it?” I blurted.
“Why would I need an excuse?”
“Touché.” I walked toward his living room that overlooked the city. “What do you need?”
“What was the name of the music you played last night?” He sat on the couch and took his tablet from the coffee table. He didn’t bother to look at me now that he’d gotten what he wanted.
We both had.
“It doesn’t have a name.”
“The piece number or the name of the composer would suffice,” he said as he typed something quickly.
“It has no number, and I guess I would be the composer.”
He paused and finally graced me with his full attention. “You wrote that?”
“No. I played it. I had no plans to write it down. I just went from feeling.”
“But it was mixture of other works?” He looked at me like he no longer understood what I was saying.
“I don’t know. Isn’t everything a mixture of something? I came in, saw the piano, and felt like playing, so I played what I felt. Why?”
“Have you played that before?”
I sighed. He was starting to annoy me. “No. Would it be easier to understand what I’m saying if I spoke in French?”
“Stay here.” He rose to his feet, dropping the tablet onto the couch before returning to his bedroom.
“And we’re back to him bossing me around,” I muttered, even though he hadn’t necessarily stopped being bossy in the short twenty-four hours I had known him.
Putting my purse and shoes on the floor, I sat and rested my back against the couch. He came back, holding sheets of paper and a pencil.
“What, are you going to draw me?”
“Not quite,” he said, sitting beside me and handing me the paper. “Do you think you can remember any part of it?”
I stared at the sheet music, my heart beginning to race. Finally, I dropped them and stood. “I need to go.”
“Where do you need to be at 1:00 a.m.?”
“I have to be at work in three hours. I need sleep,” I said as I reached for the door, but he stopped me and leaned against it with his arms crossed.
“Move,” I demanded.
“What godforsaken job requires you to be up at four in the morning?”
“A credit card call center for the east coast, and it’s a decent job.” Godforsaken, my ass. However, he didn’t seem to believe me.
He tilted his head to the side. “How many jobs do you have?”
“As many as I need to.”
“Fine.” He stepped aside. “Just admit you didn’t come up with that music. Nothing annoys me more than liars.”
“I’m not lying,” I snapped.
He shrugged as he went back to the couch. “I get it. You wanted to impress me. You didn’t have to go so far though. Your playing was good enough—”
“Hey, asshole, I’ve already said it once. I’m not lying. So, I’m not lying. And I couldn’t care less if you were impressed or not. Our relationship is over as of this morning anyway. But since you’re so hard-headed, I’ll prove it.” Marching back to the couch, I dropped everything and reached for the sheets and pencil.
Brushing my hair behind my ears, I took a deep breath. I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
I wrote the notes down as I heard them play in my head. Just like when I was younger, the moment I thought about it, it was all I could hear. The music crashed in my mind like waves on a beach. Pressing a hand against one ear, I ignored the pain as I wrote down each note as quickly as I could, moving from one sheet of paper to the next.
“Felicity. Felicity?” He placed his hands on my shoulders, and I jumped. For a split second, I had forgotten he was there. “You’re crying.”
I blinked, and sure enough, there were tears in my eyes. Dropping the pencil, I wiped my face.
“Oh, God! I’m so sorry. I’m fine.” I handed him the sheets. “That’s all I have. I don’t know what comes next. I haven’t played it yet. I have to go.”
I ran as fast as my feet would take me. I ran from him and the music. Hopefully it would be the last time I ever met either of them again.
1:57 a.m.
“Kill me.” I groaned and buried my face in the pillow on the couch.
“Oh, come on. It couldn’t have been that bad.” Cleo sat on the floor next to my feet. “What happened?”
“I cried!” I yelled into the pillow.
“You what?”
Peeking at her, I saw that her red hair was pulled into a bun. “I cried.”
“Oh God, why?” Mark groaned as he lifted my feet and slid in under my legs.
“I keep asking myself that too.” I shifted onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, shaking my head at my own damn stupidity.
“Was it the sex?” Cleo questioned. “Was it so good you cried tears of joy? Or so awful you wished you’d never gotten out of bed this morning?”
“Does that look like the skin of someone who regrets getting out of bed in the morning?” Mark pointed to my chest, and I quickly crossed my arms over my breasts.
“No, I didn’t cry about the sex,” I snapped at her. “And yes, the sex was great. It was passionate, a little dirty, and hella sexy.”
Thinking about it still made me feel hot.
“So, the crying….”
“It was the music,” I whispered. “He asked me to write down my music, and you know me; I became all emotional about it.”
“Seriously? You cried about music? You’re hopeless, and I’m tapping out of this one.” Cleo turned back toward the television.
“So are you going to see him again?” Mark asked.
“No.” But I kind of wanted to, though I didn’t know why. “He’s a good lay, and he’s super hot, along with being rich, but honestly that was it.” I thought, not realizing I’d said it out loud until Mark replied.
“Does there need to be more?”
I kicked him, and he laughed. They were terrible influences on me, I swear.
Rising, I stepped over Cleo and headed toward my bedroom. “I’m going to take a nap before my shift.”
“Remember to wear a sweater when you go in,” Cleo yelled before they broke into laughter.
Urgh! Damn you, Theodore Darcy.
And damn me for thinking about you.
2:03 p.m.
Sleep. Why did I always forget my body needed sleep? I felt so stiff and groggy. Maybe someone could fill in for me on my other job?
“Felicity?”
“Yes?” I yawned and turned to face Rosemary, who looked at me oddly, her curly hair pulled back in to a useless ponytail.
“Table four asked for you. I can finish inventory.” She reached for the chart.
“Thanks. Sorry. I didn’t get very far,” I said as I handed it to her.
“It’s okay. Seriously, you look like you had a rough night. If you want to leave early, let me know.”
“I might take you up on that.” I smiled, heading into the front of the shop. Walking up to table four, I took out my order pad and wrote a few numbers.
“Hi, can I take your order?” I looked up, then stopped when Theo grinned at me. His green eyes shifted to the white-collared shirt I wore under my apron, the only thing hiding all his handiwork.
“One shitty coffee,” he said calmly as he unbuttoned his suit jacket.
“Sorry, we’re all out.” I glared.
“That’s fine. I’ll take you instead.”
Did he really just try to order me? I was a thing to be ordered now?
I handed him the menu. “As you can see, I’m not on the menu.”
“Maybe not this one,” he replied, flicking it aside.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a vampire-like tendency?”
“Wouldn’t Los Angeles be the worst place for vampires?”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“Sit, Felicity.”
“I’m busy.”
He glanced around the dead diner. There were only two other customers, both of whom seemed to be preoccupied taking selfies together in the corner.
“It might not look busy out here, but it’s madness in back. Poor Rosemary has to do the inventory by herself.”
“Hey, Felicity.” Rosemary came up behind me and placed a coffee in front of Theo, giving me a weird look. “You can leave once you’re done. I finished in back. You did much more than you thought.”
“Excuse me for a second,” I said to Theo before I grabbed Rosemary’s arm and led her to the counter. “What are you doing?”
“Do you know who that is?” she said under her breath as she gripped my hands excitedly.
“Yeah. Theodore Darcy. I know…ouch!” I rubbed my arm when she smacked me.
“Don’t say his name like that!”
“Like what?”
“Like he’s a normal person. He’s God here. Do you know how many people would sell their souls for a chance to be in the same room with him?”
“If seeing him requires you to sell your soul, wouldn’t that make him the devil?”
She glared at me. “Seriously, if people found out Theodore Darcy got his coffee here, every wannabe actor, musician, and director in the state would come in for a latte. Manny will lose his shit that he missed this.”
I didn’t think Manny knew, seeing he had been here yesterday and hadn’t said anything, but then again, he’d been in a piss-poor mood.
“Felicity, be nice.” She let go of me to fetch a piece of short cake. “Tell him it’s on the house.”
“He could own the house if he wanted to,” I muttered as I took the plate and returned to his table.
He’d poured six packets of sweetener into his coffee before drinking it. The man was going to kill himself doing that.
“You’re back,” he stated, taking a sip of his coffee.
“I was told to be nice to you, since you’re almighty and whatnot.” I frowned as I placed the shortcake in front of him. “Enjoy your dessert, your majesty.”
“If you want to be nice, Felicity, then sit. I have something for you.”
“For me?” I sat across from him, and the moment I did, I wanted to smack myself. I’d just given in without realizing it. Screw it; let’s get this over with. “Well, what is it?”
He moved the coffee and cake to the side and lifted the files beside him to the table; one blue and the other red.
“Take the blue file and that’s it. Your royalties will be directly deposited into your bank account, and you’ll never see me after today. You can spend the rest of your life working odd jobs here and there, on top of having lackluster sex with mediocre men who will always disappoint you. But”—he slid the red file up toward me—“if you take the red file, I swear to God your life will change in ways you have only ever dreamed of. It will be the start to a brand new, exciting, sexually fulfilling life by my side as an employee and lover.”
Had he not been so serious, I would’ve laughed. I stared down at the files. It felt like we were always playing a game with each other. Smiling, I lifted a hand, moving it toward the blue file. However, he grabbed it and interlocked his fingers with mine. I shivered, remembering how skilled those hands were.
“I thought it was my choice?”
“It is, but it’s only fair you understand everything that comes with the red file before making your decision. You already know what the blue file means, don’t you?”
“Didn’t you show me that last night?”
A wicked grin spread across his lips, and for what had to be the millionth time, I couldn’t look away from him. “Last night was just the beginning of your life as my lover. There is also the possibility of you as my employee. You have true talent, Ms. Harper, and in a city filled with pseudo-talent, it’s my job to know the difference.”
My heart was beating faster. I pulled my hand away, picked up both files, and hugged them to my chest.
“Fine. Show me.”
Standing, he pulled out his wallet. He reached for the hundred before taking the fifty and dropping it on the table.
“I don’t want to be showy.” He winked at me.
Laughing, I took off my apron and waved to Rosemary as we left. His driver held open the door for us before getting in the Mercedes.
He didn’t say anything and neither did I, but my mind and heart were racing. What was worse was knowing how excited I was for this. Despite his wealth and demeanor, I wasn’t intimidated by him. You needed to have thick skin to live in this city. He affected a much more lustful side of me, and he knew it too.
Finally, he spoke. “Why did you cry?”
“What?”
“Last night… this morning… as you wrote the piece. Why did you cry?”
Looking away, I didn’t answer. I powered down the window, stuck my hand out, and enjoyed the warmth of the breeze on my skin.
2:34 p.m.
“Welcome, Mr. Darcy,” a woman with dark brown hair and glasses said from behind the reception desk as we stepped into the building. She looked me over, confused, and didn’t greet me.
He nodded to her and everyone else that stopped what they were doing as we walked by to say “Welcome, Mr. Darcy.” Or “Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy.” Or “Have a nice day, Mr. Darcy.” All of them gave me a variation of looks: confusion, jealously, intrigue, and lust. That last one he must have noticed, because he looked directly at one man who came up beside me for the elevator and gave me a small grin. The moment the poor guy realized who was beside him, his eyes widened and he gave an awkward smile before turning away.
“I’m not yours yet,” I said when we were alone in the elevator. Oddly, he pressed the bottom floor. I’d thought we were going to his office.
“You are mine,” he whispered behind me, grasping my waist and gently pulling me against him. He undid the top button of my shirt. “And I can prove it.”
“And here I thought I was here to make that choice….”
“Your choice is to see if you want to keep being mine, Felicity.” He kissed my temple and squeezed my ass as the doors opened. Without another word, he walked out and left me to fix the top of my shirt. It hid the hickeys well enough, but my nipples, which were now hard, were another story.
Damn him.
I crossed my arms and followed him down the marble-floored corridor. The walls were covered in a dark wood paneling and, because of the angle of the lights, seemed to glow gold. He opened a door, and we entered a large studio hall. Several dancers stood before one man with dark brown hair pulled into a small bun. I assumed he was the choreographer, even though he only looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties. The dancers were so focused on him that not one of them gave Theo a second look.
“Come on,” he said to me.
I hadn’t even realized I had stopped walking. Following him toward the viewing chairs set up next to a recording table, I noticed the speakers were facing away from us. A pretty blonde with green eyes sat behind it. She smiled brightly at Theo and gave me a look. He nodded to her like they were having a mental conversation. When she looked at me once more, she grinned and gave me a thumbs-up before focusing on her work.
“Who is that?”
“My sister in-law, Tori,” he said.
“I don’t understand. Why am I here?” I whispered.
“Just watch and listen.”
The choreographer spoke directly to his lead female dancer. He seemed frustrated with her and showed her the moves again. The girl sighed as she brushed dark hair off her forehead and nodded.
The choreographer looked at Tori. Suddenly the music started to play—my music. It was more drawn out, the tempo was faster; it was exciting and sexy, especially with the accompaniments to it, but it was still mine. The slamming of the keys signaled the dance, as the push and pull between the notes begun. The female threw herself forward as she danced.
“Your job would be to help create this,” Theo whispered beside me.
I focused on the girl. She was off. She wasn’t feeling the music right.
“Stop.” The choreographer groaned. He rubbed the pads of his fingers against his temple before looking at the girl again. “Violet, are you tired?”
“No, sorry. I’ll get it,” she said.
“Let’s take a ten-minute break,” he decided anyway.
“Tori,” Theo said. “Play the whole thing. I want her to hear it.”
By the time she pressed play again, I had already stepped out of my flats and was off. It had been so long since I’d been able to dance like this, and everything within me screamed for me to continue. To do this again.
Theo
I had only looked away for one second to speak to Tori when she leaped into the center of the hall. Leaped like Violet—one of the best ballet dancers in the country, who had only signed with us two months ago—should have done.
“Holy hell,” Tori whispered as she stood up and watched Felicity spinning perfectly on the balls of her feet over and over again, then leaping high, her legs perfectly spread and landing just as gracefully. She performed Walter’s choreography with ease, like she had seen it a million times, practiced every night of her life. Walter was so amazed he forgot himself and joined her. They were perfectly in sync.
Even when the music changed completely, he just took her hand, and they made it up as they went. Stepping right and left, jumping on the same beat and landing together. She had never heard the song in this form, yet when there was a dramatic pause, they both froze on the balls of their feet, one leg up like cranes facing each other before the music continued, and they were dancing again.
“Where did you find this girl?” Tori asked, not the least bit fazed by the woman who was dancing with her husband, my younger brother.
“You’d never believe me,” I replied because even I didn’t believe it.
Felicity Harper was an enigma. I couldn’t understand her even a little. I had made a living out of understanding people, being able to read what they wanted or needed, how to make them better, where their faults were, but with Felicity I was at a loss. Worse, the more I tried to figure her out, the more I wanted her.
Watching her like this, the way her body moved, the smile that spread her lips, I wanted her. I had already had her only hours ago, yet I still wanted more.
“Bravo!” Walter clapped, along with the rest of the dancers and Tori, when the music ended. She stood in the center of the room, taking deep breaths.
“It was nice. Who’s your instructor?” Violet stepped forward, her arms wrapped around herself.
Felicity glanced at her. “I don’t have one.”
“What?” Walter had the same expression I’d had when she told me she had composed the music by herself. “You don’t train with anyone?”
She shook her head then nodded thanks to the person who handed her a bottle of water.
“I was in dance school when I was younger, but I just dance around in my apartment every once in a while. Right now it feels like my bones are on fire,” she joked, but it seemed like she was in pain. I was already walking toward her.
“Walter, the gala is in four weeks. I really hope this will all appear much better next time I come to watch.” I glimpsed at Felicity. “Let’s go. We still need to talk about whether you will join us.”
“You’re joining the dance department?” Walter asked excitedly.
“Music,” I said to him.
“Neither.” Felicity stood up straighter. “Thanks for letting me join in, but this was a one-time thing. Please enjoy your session.”
She didn’t wait before she walked off, grabbing her shoes as she went.
The one thing I knew for sure about Felicity Harper was that she was a runner. I had never thought of myself as a follower, but here I was, always one step behind her.
She’d made it only a couple of feet before having to rest against the wall. She breathed in through her nose, her chest rising in front of me, her hazel eyes staring into me. No words were spoken between us. I placed my hand on her check.
“Why do you keep running, Felicity?” I brushed my thumb across her pink lips.
She reached up and grasped my hand. “The real question is, why aren’t you, Theo? If I pick up that red file, I’ll hurt you.”
“We’ll hurt each other and be better for it,” I said before doing what I’d wanted the moment I’d seen her again this afternoon.
When she wrapped her hands around my neck, I knew right away: she was mine.