I didn’t want to explain what I did back there. Frankly, I didn’t feel like I should have needed to explain—he should have understood and accepted that it was the best way to go about this, and that I wouldn’t completely throw him under the bus.
Too bad that wasn’t how he saw it.9ReidThe next two weeks were quiet. When Cora first moved into my house, I thought I’d never get used to having her around—another body in the way, another way of living to muck up my bachelor lifestyle. But of course we got used to each other, people always got used to the way things were. We fell into a rhythm, one that half-ignored each other, drifting past the other in the halls, catching glimpses of her in the morning—wondering how she looked naked with the shower water sliding off her smooth skin, wondering what she was wearing underneath a tiny pair of cotton shorts barely covering her gorgeous ass. We spoke a little bit, but no more than necessary.
Work kept me busy. Jarvis hunted around the margins of my crew, and I kept getting glimpses of him, hints of his existence, but never a direct sighting. I had no clue where he was keeping himself and where his men disappeared to after harassing my guys in the street. There were no direct confrontations, no gunfire, no murders, no death—and that was a good thing. But we couldn’t seem to pin him down.
I knew I had to do something to break myself out of my rut. I was spinning my wheels at work and at home, trying to hunt down Jarvis, barely keeping within Cora’s orbit, and I felt like my opportunity was slipping away—but I wasn’t sure which opportunity, whether it was to take and have Cora the way I wanted, or to kill Jarvis and end his threat forever.
I came home early one Friday evening and found Cora in her bedroom. I knocked once before opening the door, and she looked up from a paperback with narrowed eyes. She wasn’t used to me bothering her in her room.
“I have something for you.” I held out a black dress bag.
She raised an eyebrow. “Again?”
“Put it on.” I walked to the bed and tossed it down. “We have somewhere to be.”
“Where’s that from?”
“Fendi. Try it on.”
She hesitated and I could see she didn’t want to take the bait. Things had been so easy for her lately. I hadn’t pushed her or asked anything of her, mainly because I wanted things to cool off. I didn’t want the memory of Jarvis’s attack to taint whatever we had growing here—if there was anything at all.
“Fine.” She tossed the book aside and got up. “What’s this for?”
“There’s an event tonight and Hedeon wants us to show up.”
She chewed on her lip as she unzipped the bag. The dress was long and black with very thin, subtle pleats along the fitted skirt and delicate, almost bird-like long oblongs of cloth around the bust. The sleeves were short, and a sheer black lace covered her breasts—but showed enough to hint at something more. She held it up against her then tilted her head at me.
“Going to leave?”
“Didn’t plan on it.”
She made a face and stared at me, but I didn’t move. We stood like that for a few seconds before she snorted and turned around. I watched her take off her shirt and marveled at the muscles in her back and the hint of her breasts I saw as she bent her back to slip off her shorts. She wore a pair of black cotton panties that looked a size too small, her beautiful ass spilling out of them, and I felt myself stir. I had to step back and hold the doorframe to keep myself under control.
She pulled the dress on and zipped the back before turning to me. I stared at her for a long moment, feeling that strange, intense need for her again, before nodding once and gesturing at the bathroom mirror.
I stood behind her as she looked at herself. Neither of us spoke until she half turned, and I saw the small smile on her lips, and I knew—
“You love it,” I said.
“I really do. Where the hell do you get this stuff?”
“Funny what money can buy.” I drifted toward the door. “Get ready. We’re leaving in an hour.”
She nodded and looked back at the mirror. I stayed in the doorway admiring her, and I wondered how the hell I’d let things get so quiet between us, how I let them remain so strained—when she could so easily make me feel like this.
I turned and left her there, heading back to my room to get changed.* * *The ballroom at the Ben was typically used for weddings. The wide-open area featured large, elegant arches, decorative fluting along the columns, a sizable dance floor, round tables with white linens, and an embossed, reflective ceiling. The place screamed European elegance, or at least it tried hard to mirror an old world charm while still somehow making it a clumsy approximation.