Текст книги "Grace Street"

Автор книги: Ella Dominguez

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

3: Calculated

For more than two weeks, Elsa’s dreams had been haunted off and on by the man that smelled like sex and pricey cologne and his penetrating eyes. It was a welcome change from her usual tormented dreams of Patrick. She was desperate to be over him but still, she lingered on what could have been. It was pathetic and she hated herself for her inability to let him go. It had been over six months since their break up. Why couldn’t she just move on?

Directing her attention to the task at hand, she worked diligently in the silence of her office. Solitude was what she had wanted but now faced with the unnatural quietness, her mind and thoughts were scattered and often times bordering on the ridiculous. She needed a distraction. Cueing some music on her phone, she let the sounds of People Help the People by Birdy crash against her body. The somber words somehow soothed her anxieties of her past failures, and urged her to finish her work.

Walking past the large window, she spotted the car that had been parked out in front of her apartment for almost a week. She had just assumed someone new had moved into the building, but seeing it here and now was a bit disconcerting. She opened the blinds to get a better look and saw a man sitting in the vehicle peering up at her. The sun was bright in the sky and the angle of it nearly blinded her, making her unable to make out any recognizable features other than his dark hair. Was it coincidence? Alarm bells went off in her head telling her that it wasn’t.

As she stood staring down at the parking lot, unbidden thoughts of her family came to her mind. She had promised to call and let them know she was safe. It had been five weeks since her move to Richmond and she had only texted them, still unable to find the nerve to call them. She didn’t want to hear the cynicism in their voices or their lecturing about how wrong she had been to move away from Boston instead of simply finding another job. But who was it wrong for? Not for her. It had been the right thing to do. She was sure of it.

When her fuzzy thoughts came back into focus, the car had driven away, leaving her to wonder who had been watching her.

The day came and went quickly. Viv invited her to The Brewery again, this time without the company of the asshole who had been invited previously, but Elsa wasn’t up to it.

Instead she showered, changed and decided to catch a bus to Grace Street for a stroll. Unlike most people she knew, she enjoyed public transportation and the opportunity it gave her to be an uninvited spectator into the secret lives of others.

During her short walk to the bus station, she felt the peculiar sense of eyes on her and on several occasions, she stopped in her path to turn around and take in her surroundings. The sun wasn’t quite set yet and low on the horizon, but the shadows on the street were prominent, making the atmosphere feel unsettling. Thoughts of being attacked and pulled into a darkened corner besieged her. As panic began to surface, she reached into her jacket pocket and tightly gripped her mace, ready to burn the eyes of any would be assailant, and picked up her walking pace. She couldn’t be sure if she was just being paranoid, but she swore she heard footsteps behind her matching her pace.

The bus stop was only a few hundred feet away and she jogged the remainder of the distance, relieved when she came to an overhead light where several others were waiting. With her heart pounding in her chest, she eased herself onto the bench, feeling somewhat safer in the company of others, though not much.

Suddenly, there it was: the smell of citrus and bergamot. Surely she was imagining things. Her eyes darted around and she leaned into the man sitting next to her, inhaling his aroma, but all she could smell on him was his sweat. Just then a large bus squealed to a halt in front of them. The doors flung open and she pushed her way to the front of the crowd and scrambled on.

Once on the bus, she let out a loud sigh of relief. Her mind was racing and her mouth parched from fear. Sinking low into the seat, she scanned the bus, her eyes becoming fixated on an amorous couple who were discretely trying to cop a feel. A smile danced on her mouth at the sight of it. She felt dirty watching them, like some kind of perverted onlooker, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of them. When the petite woman giggled and tried to pull away, the unassuming, thin man with black horn-rimmed glasses got a wild look in his eyes and yanked her back roughly and whispered something harsh into her ear as he slid his hand up the inside of her thigh and under her skirt, making her mewl with delight. Elsa’s breathing quickened at what she was witnessing and she shifted in her seat, her nethers becoming damp with arousal. When she did, her movement caught the man’s attention and his eyes darted toward her. He gave her a lewd smile as he continued to work his fingers into his girlfriend, all the while the girl panted softly with her eyes closed.

Elsa felt her cheeks flush and her body temperature rise, but she found herself unable to peel her gaze away from the spectacle before her. It was compelling, dirty and gratuitous. Her mouth parted and she licked her lips, wishing she was on the receiving end of his long fingers when the man suddenly looked away and redirected his attention back on his lover, crushing his mouth over hers and kissing her violently. It was beautiful and shameless.

Just then the bus squeaked to a halt, jolting all the passengers forward and forcing Elsa out of her voyeuristic entrancement.

She found a small café she had been eager to visit since noticing it several weeks before and seated herself in a corner booth. After ordering a large diet Coke, she placed her earbuds in and fired up some James Blunt and opened a book she had brought along. She began humming when the same smell from earlier hit her like a ton of bricks. Her eyes flicked upward and she pulled her earbuds out. Sitting directly in front of her was Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous himself. His intense stare bored into her as he sat silently watching her and made no effort to make polite conversation or explain his presence. He had the same just-got-fucked-hair, impeccable attire and scent of expensive aftershave. Elsa came to the frightening realization that he had most likely followed her there and that it was him she had sensed earlier on the darkening street. When she sat quiet for nearly a minute trying to make sense of everything and staring at him impatiently, a crooked grin spread over his chiseled face.

“Aren’t you curious as to why I’m here?” he finally asked, his eyes narrowed down to mere slits.

She swallowed hard and chewed the corner of her lip fretfully. Sliding her hands off the table, she reached into her coat pocket and touched the mace. “Curious isn’t the word,” she whispered, gawking at his firm, oxblood-red lips.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Then, what?”

“Uncomfortable.”

His smile widened only the faintest bit. “I like uncomfortable.”

Yes, she could sense that about him. He was visibly pleased with her unease, just like he had been at the bar. Unclear of his intentions, Elsa pressed her body into the back of the booth, trying to put some distance between them, but her actions only made him move forward, closer to her, like a wild, jungle cat stalking its prey. Maybe that’s what she was to him – prey. But damn if he wasn’t stunning to look at all in all his terrifying glory and dark eyes. At least this time he didn’t smell like another woman’s sex, but even at that, it had been a nice scent on him, even if it wasn’t her own fragrance seeping out of his pores.

“Do you find me attractive, Elsa?” he asked in the deepest, most deceptively calm voice.

Her eyebrows rose. He hadn’t forgotten her name. “Any sensible woman would,” she replied coolly.

Tipping his head back, the light caught the bright white of his eyes and she could finally see the true color of his irises – the deepest green with hazel specks.

“Your eyes are the most amazing color,” she unintentionally whispered when she became ensnared in his watchful gaze.

His mouth twitched with what appeared to be agitation and something menacing flickered in his eyes. “If you find me attractive then why did you refuse my card?” he asked, completely ignoring her remark.

If he really wanted to persist with this line of questioning, then she would just come out and say it. “Because you seemed dangerous.”

The twinkle in his eyes was unmistakable. “Oh, I am dangerous. Doesn’t that appeal to you?”

She let out a short breathy laugh. Who the hell was this guy? And come to think of it, what was his interest in her? “I suppose to a certain degree it does, but I’ve had my share of dangerous men and I’m over it.”

The man’s left brow rose infinitesimally. “But you haven’t had my brand of dangerous.”

Elsa wasn’t sure she liked the suggestive tone of his voice, but still – her insides jangled with unwelcome excitement. She did, after all, like a bit of menace in her men. She also liked it rough when it came right down to it. Or at least the idea of rough. No man had ever actually given her what she really wanted, or needed for that matter. Not even Patrick had given her all that she yearned for.

Nervous and exhausted with Mr. Dangerous and trying to assess his unreadable features, she rose to leave. As devastating as his appeal was, she didn’t need the drama in her life. Not when she had moved nearly six hundred miles to start fresh. In the blink of an eye, she felt a strong hand on her. His touch was fiery and possessive, halting her escape. A soft gasp left her mouth and she looked down to see his long fingers wrapped tightly around her small wrist.

“Please sit, Ms. Cassidy,” his voice was soft but alarming.

Her heart leapt into her throat, not only from his touch but his use of her surname. The heated look passing over his expression and the flame in his eyes were more revealing in his intentions than anything he had spoken to her. Elsa had seen a look like that cast on her before, though not nearly as intense, and she knew it meant nothing but trouble. Something about a man’s masculinity and dominance spoke to that depraved part of her that made her want to do bad, bad things. And this man was no exception. Or maybe he was the exception; a decadently, beautiful and perilously mysterious exception who would allow her to give into her wanton desires.

“Please take your hand off of me,” she stated less than convincingly.

The man flashed a devilish grin and licked his upper lip as if he could sense her doubt. “Is that what you really want?”

Without answering, Elsa snatched her wrist out of his grip and stepped back.

“Please, Elsa. I have a proposition for you. Sit,” he ordered and just like that, she knew his commanding presence wasn’t something to be taken lightly.

Slowly, she sat back down. Turned on by the way his mouth formed her name, she never once took her eyes off of him, but despite her attraction to him, she had presence of mind to keep her fingers firmly wrapped around her canister of mace. So Mr. Beautifully Creepy had a proposition, did he? Her curiosity was piqued.

Easing back into the vinyl, her eyes widened. “Go on.”

Running his index finger across his bottom lip, an expression of casual irony flowed over the stranger’s face. “Don’t you want to know my name first?”

She pondered a moment before responding. “No. I’d rather hear your proposition before I become invested in you,” she answered with a facile tongue.

“Touché, Ms. Cassidy. I’ll get right to the point then,” he countered with a bitter edge of cynicism in his voice. “I seek a physical association with you.”

She sat quietly for several long, seemingly never-ending seconds trying to put into logical sense what his statement meant. “Are you asking me out on a date?” she finally responded

“I don’t date.” His throaty voice and tone revealed nothing and his eyes remained cool when he answered her, leaving her perplexed yet again.

“Then, what?”

With no emotion but an undeniable sparkle in his eyes, he answered, “A physical association is all that I seek from you. Sex to be exact.”

She didn’t know whether to be offended or angry from his bluntness, but in all honesty, she was neither. Undoubtedly she was freaked out, but more overwhelmingly, she was hot and bothered. This was the thing she needed and even prayed for; a no-strings-attached, no-sentimental-BS kind of relationship. Just sex. Plain and simple.

Bringing out a folded piece of paper from his inner jacket pocket, he pushed it across the table to Elsa. “I’m clean. I brought my papers along with me to prove that.”

She almost laughed out loud. ‘His papers,’ made it sound as though he were a kenneled animal up for adoption. Had he been neutered and did he have his shots, too?

Moving right along, he continued, “I have a place picked out where we can meet…”

She suddenly felt panicked. She hadn’t even agreed to anything.

“Aren’t you even curious as to whether or not I’m clean?”

Looking past her and out the window, he replied, “I already know everything I need to know about you at this point to move forward with this arrangement.”

“And how is that?” she asked, but she already knew the answer. She knew the answer as soon as she smelled his cologne. He had been the one following her that evening and parked out in front of her apartment for at least a week. Maybe longer. Her inner self-preservation was screaming at her to run the other way, but that other part of her – the one that liked things naughty, was keeping her ass firmly planted in the seat.

“I always do my homework before I make an offer like this,” he simply stated without elaborating.

Elsa couldn’t help but wonder just how many offers like this had he made in the past. Tens? Hundreds? Thousands? Eyeing the piece of paper on the table, she picked it up and opened it to see the name of the man in front of her. Victor Laurenzo.

“Victor,” she whispered.

“I expect you to call me Mr. Black,” he stated tersely.

Glancing up at him, she knitted her eyebrows and questioned him in a low and troubled voice, “How do I know you are who you say you are? If you’re telling me to call you Mr. Black, then who is Victor Laurenzo?”

Victor sighed loudly and pulled out his wallet and quickly flashed his driver’s license in front of her face. He was, indeed, Victor Laurenzo. Why then did he want to be called Mr. Black? Perhaps he was into role playing. So be it. Mr. Black it was. She had already entertained this conversation much longer than what would seem appropriate. She knew she shouldn't be questioning him as much as she should herself for still sitting here, yet she couldn’t stop from wanting to hear him out.

As he pushed his ID back into his wallet, the overhead light glinted off a brass badge, but Victor’s movements were too swift for her to make out what the ID hidden in the leather folds was. Was he a police officer? An FBI agent? Some kind of foreign dignitary? Wonderment surged through her but only for a brief moment. The reality of her luck would probably reveal him to be just some paper pusher for the Food and Drug Administration.

“Are you married, Mr. Laure… Mr. Black?” she corrected herself.

He leaned forward and let out a long, audible breath before answering in a hushed voice, “I don’t answer personal questions about my life outside our arrangement, but if it will put your mind at ease, just this once I’ll divulge. No, I’m not married.”

His voice, though quiet, had an ominous quality, just as everything about him did and Elsa couldn’t be sure he was being honest.

“All the paperwork on our meeting place will be finalized within the next few days.” Reaching into a different pocket, he pulled out a small slip of paper with an address written on it and held it out to her. “Our first liaison will be this Saturday at 10:00 a.m. We can go over the particulars that day. Be prompt and ready to begin when you arrive, Ms. Cassidy.”

Shaking her head and trying to clear her thoughts, she responded, “I haven’t agreed to anything yet. Something about you frightens me. You’ve been following me and snooping around my private affairs, which, by the way, is disgusting. I need time to think this over.”

Victor smiled smoothly, betraying nothing. “Define disgusting.”

Unflinching, she answered, “Horrible, repellent, repulsive.”

“It would’ve been more repulsive if I had made an offer such as this without proving my sexual cleanliness, no? Disgusting is subjective, Ms. Cassidy, and it’s a fact that when a person is aroused, they’re less likely to think something is disgusting.”

Her brows knitted together. A fact according to whom? This guy was something else. “It just so happens that I’m not aroused.”

One side of his mouth lifted in a crooked half-smile and his eyes lit up. “Not yet.” When she opened her mouth in rebuttal, he cut in. “Everything I’ve done has been done with forethought to your and my needs. What you think is repellent, others might find necessary,” his voice resonated with depth and authority.

Necessary? This man knew nothing of her needs. “Following me around reveals nothing about me.” The sound of his voice affected her deeply and when she responded, her voice was shakier than she would have liked.

With a hard, cold-eyed smile, the lines around his eyes tightened. “You couldn’t be more wrong. I’ve learned a great deal about your habits and schedule, and even some of your personal preferences by following you. Everything else I plan to learn about you will come with time; something I’m willing to invest in you. Time and attention is the greatest gift another person can bestow on someone. Consider yourself fortunate, Ms. Cassidy, because neither of those things is something I share with just anyone.”

The tensing of Victor’s jaw let on to his deep frustration, but he remained eerily calm. Sipping on her diet Coke, she became entranced with the way he was casually circling his index finger on the table. Lascivious thoughts filled her mind as she envisioned him tracing the fullness of her breast with that same digit. Abruptly interrupting her fantasy, he rose from the booth and stood at the side of the table leaving her reeling from his statement and her arousal. Gliding the back of his fingers down her cheek, she shivered and his sureness melted her resolve. Maybe she was the fortunate one.

“Saturday. Ten o’clock,” he reiterated.

Just as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone, with only the smell of his manliness lingering in the air. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, wondering if everything that had just taken place had been a figment of her imagination. Saturday was only two days away. It wasn’t nearly enough time to think over something so important. Again, she was kidding herself. She already knew what her answer would be and there was no point in denying the spark of excitement at the prospect of embarking on the perilous path set before her.

4: Premeditated

The two days had come and gone far too quickly. Elsa had peered out her apartment window multiple times hoping to see the pewter-colored Nissan GT-R, but it was nowhere in sight. Apparently the elusive man who made her an inappropriate offer thought he had gleaned everything he needed to know about her. How wrong he was. Elsa was full of little perversions and secrets that she held near and dear to her heart. Things she hadn’t told anyone and the sort of things a simple background check would never reveal.

Two days should’ve been enough time for her to do a little background digging of her own on Victor Laurenzo, aka Mr. Black, but work had kept her busy. With the Saturday meeting looming less than twelve hours away, she tried to do an online search of his name, only to find her internet service was sluggish and anytime his name was entered into the search engine, she would be redirected to another site. It was as if destiny, or more likely fate, were intervening and keeping her from the truth, and maybe that was a good thing. It felt risky not knowing who she was agreeing to start a ‘physical association’ with. A little intrigue never hurt anyone, after all. Or did it? She was fully aware of what she was agreeing to. Okay, so she didn’t know the fine details yet, but tomorrow would bring all the answers she sought.

Sleep that night was fitful and her nerves were frayed beyond repair. After getting up to get a drink of water, she glanced out her bedroom window and there he was, Mr. Black. She stood watching him from a slit in her curtains, trying to imagine what he was thinking about. An orange light flickered inside his darkened car and his driver’s side window rolled down, a puff of smoke billowing out. With his perfect façade, she didn’t take him to be a smoker. Several minutes passed and a nervous fluttering settled deep in her belly and moved downward to the place that she would soon be sharing with Mr. Black. She wanted him, there was no denying it. The glow of the cigarette brightened each time he inhaled and she slowed her breathing to match his.

Prying herself from the window, she slipped on a satin robe and quickly descended the two flights of stairs to the side exit of her building. The sultry Virginia wind whipping outside wreaked havoc on her hair, but it was the least of her concerns. She wanted to see Mr. Black up close and personal and to study his lean, bronze-skinned profile. She wanted to smell his masculinity and to peer into his critical eyes.

Sneaking to the side of the building as quietly as possible, she moved up behind his car, being careful to stay in his blind spot. Just as she moved closer, his driver’s side window slid down all the way and he flicked the cigarette out. A gust of smoke came out along with his signature scent. Music filtered through the open window and past her ears to the sound of Demons by Imagine Dragons. What demons was Victor hiding? Besides his obvious and less than secretive stalking tendencies, that is. A tremor ran through Elsa. She felt ridiculous and breathless like a girl of eighteen as she hid in the shadows of his car just to get a glimpse of the man who wanted to have sex with her. Praying his doors were unlocked, she moved quickly to the passenger door and let herself in, completely taking him by surprise.

With wide, agitated eyes, he glared at her. “Sneaking up on a man is a good way to get your ass kicked,” he grumbled through gritted teeth.

Elsa tried to resist a smile. Mr. Black was quite appealing when caught unaware. “The look of surprise is becoming of you,” she dared to smirk.

Even in the dark, it was hard to miss his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. “Get out,” he barked, reaching over and opening her door.

When he leaned across her, his arm brushed against her scantily clad body and the smell of smoke, citrus and bergamot tantalized her. She wasn’t leaving just yet. The fun had just started. Pulling her door closed, his lips parted in surprise again.

“This isn’t a fucking game, Elsa,” his deep voice boomed.

“Then why are you sitting out here in the middle of the night taunting me?” she blurted, scarcely aware of her own voice.

He blinked long and hard and for a brief moment, seemed to be at a loss for words. After giving her body a raking once over, his eyes rested on her bare feet. “You’re out here barely dressed and not even wearing any shoes. What the hell were you thinking?” his mouth curved into a tight frown.

“I wasn’t thinking,” she moistened her lips nervously.

His mouth thinned in displeasure. “Clearly.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to appear unaffected by his words and leaned back into the leather. “Why are you here when we have a meeting tomorrow?”

Sinking back into the seat next to her, Victor nonchalantly fidgeted with the stereo settings and turned the music up.

“Because I couldn’t wait to see you,” his tone softened.

The coolly impersonal tone of his voice and statement were contradictory to one another and puzzled her. She watched him warily as he glanced sideways, obviously trying to gauge her expression.

“Now get out,” his voice hardened once again.

She sat for several more long moments trying to read his expression but he was a like a deep, dark cavern – bottomless and mysterious. Would he always be like this? Too tired to try and figure him out in the few minutes she had stolen with him, she reached for the door handle and turned her body to leave. She peered over her shoulder one last time to see Victor watching her intensely and she wondered who the hell this man was and what was she doing considering getting involved with him.

“Next time you decide to stop by my apartment, come to the door like a normal person. Sitting out here like a perverted creeper is a turn off,” she sniped just before exiting, knowing damn well she had just bold-faced lied. Everything about this man was a turn on, even his vile stalking tendencies.

Just as she stepped out of the car, Victor spoke, “Normalcy is also subjective, Elsa. Keep that in mind the next time you decide to speak out of turn.”

*

Elsa got only five good hours of sleep before rising early enough to get ready for her meeting. Seeing as Mr. Black had ruined her favorite, she dressed in her second best skirt; a white ruffled mini and a white and pink, lace and satin button down steam punk top. It was modest yet showed off her moderately-sized bust nicely. With her Mary-Jane heels on, lips glossed and hair tousled and pulled up into a loose bun, she drove to the address on the piece of paper – 2500 East Grace Street.

She had driven past it twice already to scope it out. It was a gorgeous brick brownstone with white trimmed windows, and an ornate black double door entrance set behind black wrought-iron pillars. Mr. Black had stated he had just finalized the paperwork on the place and she was eager to see the interior and what he had done with it.

When she pulled up, his Nissan was nowhere to be seen and she feared her antics and remark from the previous night had ruined her chances with him. She quickly walked around the property before making her way to the entrance. Just then her phone chirped with a text message.

Unknown: Key is located under a rock, third bush to your right.

Elsa scanned the street again. The message was obviously from Mr. Black who was watching her, but from where? Or maybe he sent the message just assuming that she would be on time. She found the key and opened the door and was immediately hit with the smell of old oak wood. An opulent railed staircase graced the foyer that was decked out in hand-painted glass tiles. She had never seen anything quite like this home and she hadn’t even ventured into the other rooms yet. Undecided as to whether or not she should wait for Mr. Black, her curiosity got the best of her and she roamed through the house slowly, taking in her surroundings. To her dismay, there was only the bare minimum of furnishings: a small bistro table in the dining area with two seats; a red velvet chaise lounge in the living room with a matching duchess chair with white trim nearby, and nothing else on the lower level.

When she climbed the long stairway to the large master suite, it was just as barren as the rest of the house. In the middle of the room sat a king-sized, brushed metal, canopied bed draped in white silk linens. It was an odd spot for the bed and looked out of place. The only other piece of furniture was a wooden chair facing the double bay window.

She then found her way to the master bathroom to find fresh towels in every size, all in white, along with a variety of body soaps and oils. Doing a double-take, she looked herself over in the large mirror that nearly covered an entire wall. Her sad eyes stared back and she smiled at her reflection, trying to convince herself that she was doing the right thing. She needed the physical intimacy that only a man could provide without the trouble of an emotional attachment and that’s what Mr. Black was offering. Of course it was the right thing.

Glancing at her watch, she realized she had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes. She didn’t even have a phone number for Victor to call to make sure he was coming. She scanned the details of the text message only to find the number was listed as private. Leaving the suite, she found a locked door at the far end of the short hallway that she assumed was another bedroom and tried to peek into the old style keyhole only to see it was blocked from the other end. Elsa hated locked doors and she jimmied with the door knob for nearly a minute. She even searched her handbag for something to pick the lock with but to no avail. Giving up, she went back downstairs and seated herself at the bistro table to play a game on her phone for several minutes as she waited.

Looking at her watch again, she began to become irritated. Thirty-five minutes had passed since her arrival. The least Mr. Black could do was call and let her know he was on his way. Moving to the chaise lounge, she loosened the top button of her shirt, kicked her shoes off and laid out on it, resting her head back and closing her eyes. She hadn’t even realized she had dozed off until a sensual dream flickered over the insides of her eyelids. Hot, needy hands were felt on her body as they worked their way up and over her calves and then thighs. She felt her skirt tugged and hiked up underneath her bottom and her panties pushed to the side. Just as a tongue slicked across her folds and tickled her clit, she arched her body and thrust her hips.

Elsa’s dreams had always been vivid and realistic, and there was no reason to believe this time was any different. She was positive she was dreaming and didn’t want to awaken. Her pussy muscles began to tighten and contract when she felt a firm squeeze on each of her breasts and a tweak of her nipples. What followed next were warm, moist lips on her mouth. Her lips parted instinctively as she fought to stay asleep when the faint taste of cigarette and mint assaulted her senses. A raspy tongue slicked across her teeth, then massaged the ridges of the roof of her mouth. The sensation was alluring and erotic and felt so real she didn’t want it to end, but a sudden sharp bite to her bottom lip brought her back to reality and her body tensed as her eyes popped open. Victor was standing above her, his hands resting at his sides, his eyes gleaming, his mouth still glistening wet from their brief oral encounter, and his dark-gray slacks barely concealing his hard-on.