And as I place it atop my bed and walk toward the bathroom, I envision a finished, put-together look. See a different side of me that Iāve never embraced before. The words also slip through my consciousness without a second thought or hint of fear.
Iām going to be a pretty girl in the crowd.
I take an Uber to the Tilikum CafĆ©, not wanting to walk or drive after cleaning my cuts, which were smaller than I originally thought. There was no real damage somehow, and after placing a bandage on the larger one and sweeping up the broken shards, I fed Mr. Pickles and walked out the door. Iām not far from the cafe, but I sit back just the same and take in the scenery around Prospect Street near the Facebook building and acknowledge just how much my life has changed in the last two years.
This area is quaint; itās a beautiful little bite of Seattle thatās close enough to the downtown area that I donāt miss the hustle and bustle of city life as the water sits nearby and seeing the Space Needle is nothing but a short walk to Volunteer Park. Iām a car ride away from bars, shopping, and killer foodāa vast difference from the way I grew up being a ward of the state.
Thank you, Uncle Moore, for leaving me your house and enough money to pursue my dreams.
Never met the man, but Iām grateful for his generous donation. He couldāve given it away and ignored me as he did all his life, but the gift is appreciated nonetheless.
I couldnāt afford to live here or chase the artist dream without it.
āWeāre here, Miss,ā the driver says suddenly, pulling me away from my thoughts. āAre you okay?ā
Am I? Right now, I feel like I am.
āSorry.ā Meeting his eyes through the rearview mirror, I give him a sheepish grin. āJust got lost in my thoughts for a minute.ā
āNo worries.ā
āThank you.ā The phone in my hand vibrates then with the total and tip option on the screen; I accept after rounding out the fare to twenty from a twelve-dollar flat rate, and open the door. āHave a good day.ā
āYouāre welcome, and have a pleasant day yourself, Miss.ā
āI will, after I have some coffee.ā His chuckle greets my ears before the door closes and he drives off, causing me to smile. Ever since opening that birthday gift, Iāve felt lighter than I have since the first night I dreamt of that room. Donāt think of that. Enjoy the day and no weirdness.
A light summer breeze greets me, pulls me closer to the building while it swirls around me, flirting with the lace edge of my dress as it sways across my thighs. Each step toward the door brings a nervousness Iām not accustomed to. I feel as though something important is inside, and it has to be the art gallery offering me a show.
Itās not my first anonymous show and wonāt be my last, but this particular building appeals to me with its three large showrooms and floor-to-ceiling windows with exposed beams. The place is industrial-meets-gothic chic and has a cult following of celebrity clientele that could give me the boost I need to expand to other cities.
Maybe I should officially hire Elise as my manager? The thought disappears just as soon as it comes as a hand shoots out and grips the door handle in front of me. This hand belongs to a man, a well-dressed one with a Piguet watch on his wrist and the decadent scent of cedarwood with a hint of citrus emanating from his larger frame.
He overshadows me. His fingers skim my knuckles right before I look back, and a gasp escapes my lips.
This man is the walking embodiment of trouble.
4
Gabriella
āL
adies first, Miss....ā His voice is close to my ear seconds after I turn to face the door. But more importantly, Iām trying to avoid making a fool out of myself after the surprised noise that escaped at the mere sight of him.
Tall, dark, and handsome on a level Iāve never encountered before with jet black hair and amber eyes. Thereās also something about how he towers over me, making me feel dainty when my five-foot-one frame has never been so on display. This man, who has a warm smile and whoās wearing a tailored suitāwhose skin grazed mine for a second and left tiny sparks behindāeasily stands a foot over my head while watching me with interest.
I feel those eyes boring into the back of my head.
I also donāt miss the fishing for my name, but Iām lost in concentration on an on-purpose basis. Itās a chosen distractionāthe need to take a moment and compose myselfāyet Iām spellbound by his hand.
On his knuckles, to be precise.
On the tight grip he has on the handle.
How theyāre white from exertion, and Iām piqued by the elegance in his hold. They look strong, yet his skin isnāt rough like someone who works with his hands. However, thereās this aura of dominant power that prickles my flesh from the sight.
From his nearness. From a scent that feels familiar for some reason.
His hand flexes, a gentle open and close as he exhales roughly behind me. The warm breath caresses the shell of my ear, and curiosity is a dangerous thing, because for a brief second, I close my eyes and imagine a single finger running down the volume of my neck, pausing near the neckline of my dress.
āOh!ā Another embarrassing sound as a warm hand grips my elbow, and a shiver rushes down my spine. This reaction isnāt subtle as every single cell in my body thrums to life and my breathing accelerates. My nipples throb and stiffen, pushing against the thin fabric keeping me from a public indecency charge. What the hell is wrong with me? āIām sorry, did you say something?ā
Why is he affecting me so much? No man has before.
Iām finding myself curious about those hands skimming places no one but me has touched and pleased before.
āI did.ā The hint of amusement in his tone makes me blush, but I donāt look back. Instead, I acknowledge him with a tilt of my head and a wave of the hand. Iāve hit my quota for embarrassing myself today, handsome stranger or not. āCan you take a step back for me, please? Youāll get hit with the door otherwise.ā
āOf course.ā My reply is breathy as I follow his request, moving slightly back and against a strong chest. Thereās a small rumble, this low groan that comes from his throat, and I fight back another shiver. This sudden need to whimper for a man I donāt know is unnerving and I swallow hard, forcing myself to create space between us. āIām sorry, did I step on you?ā
Not that Iād be able to tell. I canāt think past that sound. How good that small momentāhis nearnessāfelt.
Maybe Elise is right and I should start dating. Look at my behavior toward this stranger; it screams needy. How embarrassing.
āNot at all, beautiful.ā
āWhat?ā Surprise colors my tone and my head turns, meeting his eyes. Christ, you created this man to tempt and destroy. Heās the literal definition of lust. A weakness Iām all too eager to indulge in.
Striking amber eyes meet my green ones, and my knees grow weak. āAre you okay?ā
āYes.ā A lie. They tremble and my hand shoots out, gripping onto the lapels of his black suit jacket to steady myself. āI mustāve stepped on a crack.ā
āThen let me help you inside.ā His own hand comes around my waist and steadies me, holding me tucked against him for a second before walking me inside. I feel flushed, the hand now on my back causing goose bumps to rise across my flesh. Iām attuned to his movements, to the ease in which he touches me and guides me through the packed dining room where Elise sits near the back and center at a round table.
For some reason, being here in this moment feels right, a sensation Iāve been weak to fight against since opening Eliseās gift, and more so after slipping on the delicate dress. Moreover, while Iām tempted to wave at herāto get her attention because nervousness seems to be the predominant emotion waging war against meāI donāt. Instead, I follow his lead without questioning the end destination.
Maybe he wants to have brunch with me. Maybe he just wants to make sure I donāt stumble again andā
āThere you are, Mr. Astor!ā Elise stands from the table, giving him a wide smile that makes me frown. How do they know each other? But more importantly, I donāt like the tightness around her eyes when she sees heās with me. She walks toward us, hips swaying from side to side while flicking her blonde hair over her right shoulder. Her smile is for him, though. Her body language screams look at me. āYouāve kept me waiting long enough, donāt you think?ā
āMy apologies.ā At his words, I move to step aside, but his hand on my back grips my dress. āI lost track of time rescuing a damsel in distress.ā
āDid you, now?ā Her tone is sugary sweet, but thereās that tightness again. The tick of her right eye. āWhat did my girl do?ā