Tangled Destinies

Chapter one

SEVEN YEARS AGO

ELSIE’S POV

I don’t even pay attention to the voices and lingering stares of the perverted, rich old men sitting beside me. Of all the songs the DJ decided to play today, he chose the slowest.

How is that going to pull me out of this grief? That’s not why I came here.

“Another?” The guy behind the bar, my coworker, actually, nods at my empty glass again.

He doesn’t wait for my answer; he places three shots of vodka in front of me.

I guess my face gave him an answer my lips can’t.

I down the first shot. It stings—exactly what I need right now.

I blink hard. I refuse to let any more tears spill. I’m not crying again today.

I down the remaining two shots in quick succession, letting the pain in my throat distract me.

“Give me your strongest whiskey.” I am startled by the grumble of a deep and hoarse voice beside me.

The loud creak of the stool as he settles on it makes me turn to look.

It’s a man. No. He looks young, though. Probably a few years older than me.

He is wearing an expensive-looking tux. Our eyes meet and my breath hitches.

The pain in his eyes makes me almost choke on air.

Raw, unmistakable grief.

We stare at each other for the next few seconds and everything else fades into the background.

I have to admit that he is the most handsome person I have ever laid my eyes on. His straight jet-black hair is smoothly slicked back, enhancing his perfect jawline, his forest green eyes bore into my soul. He looks like he belongs on a model runway.

And then suddenly, the moment is over. The surrounding sound returns and everything goes back to normal.

He grabs the glass of whiskey in front of him and downs the entire contents in one big gulp.

I jump, startled as he slams the glass on the bar.

“One glass is not enough. Keep them coming.”

He grabs a second glass and stands. He looks exactly the way I feel.

I watch him go. He places one foot heavily in front of the other, like it’s difficult to even walk. He holds his discarded jacket in one hand and his glass in the other, he settles behind a lone table at the farthest end of the room.

Our eyes meet again. His eyes move down my body, lingering on my chest and down the length of my very short dress. I can feel my body heat up.

This time, I look away first.

“Another glass, please.” I nod at the bartender. “Whiskey this time.”

Of all people, I know it’s never a good idea to mix so many drinks, but I will do just about anything to empty my mind right now.

The music changes. It’s still slow but not so bad.

I stretch my cramped neck. I feel like dancing.

Fuck it.

I pick up the glass of whiskey. My head spins the moment I stand, and i feel my stomach churn.

No, no, no.

I sit back down.

I wait for a few seconds and try again. Slowly this time.

Okay, I’m fine.

I make my way to the dance floor, surprisingly steady on my heels.

And then I close my eyes, take a long sip of my drink and start to move slowly to the song. The feeling of eyes burning into the back of my neck makes me open my eyes.

I turn. It’s the guy from earlier. This time, his bow tie is gone too. He leans back in his chair, casually swirling the drink in his glass and stares at me shamelessly.

Even from this far away, I can see the pain in his eyes and something. Looks like he's more drunk on grief than the booze.

Something takes over me, or maybe I’m just going crazy. Still maintaining eye contact, I start to sway my hips seductively.

He leans forward, paying more attention, his eyes growing darker as they follow the movement of my body.

I throw my head back, feeling the music in my soul and enjoying his eyes on me. My ponytail comes loose, my long hair cascading down my back in waves.

Soon enough, I feel the presence behind me. I breathe in the exotic mix of expensive perfume, whiskey and a hint of a manly scent.

I don’t need to open my eyes to know he’s the one.

He grazes my exposed neck with his finger, barely touching. His hand begins to move dangerously lower. And lower.

And all of a sudden, it’s gone.

I shiver.

It’s at least thirty degrees here. It’s definitely not from the cold.

He places his hands on my waist, his touch searing as he guides my hips to grind against his.

I go along, leaning against him as we move slowly together on the dance floor.

There’s no need for words. Our hearts and bodies have a silent understanding. His scent clouds my mind and I think of nothing else. No one else in the room matters.

“Wanna get out of here?” He whispers into my ear.

This is reckless. My dad would kill me if he saw me right now. But maybe that’s the point. He’s not here to stop me. I’ll never get to see him again.

Fuck it.

I don’t even grab my jacket. His hands are on my waist as we leave the club. An expensive-looking car parks in front of us as soon as we get outside.

My eyes widen.

“Is this your car?”

His smiles, his face brightening up and the green in his eyes shining underneath the moonlight. He holds my hands and pulls me into the already-opened door.

I don’t have time to look at the interior.

His large hands hold my face and his lips are on mine in an instant.

I respond immediately, my hands moving behind his neck and into his hair.

Feeling. Exploring.

He kisses me fast and hard and I respond by pulling at his hair and kissing him harder.

He groans.

The next few minutes go like a daze. We are leaving the car and entering a building. My lips are on his again as soon as the door of the elevator closes.

We don’t break the kiss as we enter the hotel room.

“Ouch,” I mutter as he steps on my foot.

“Sorry.” He whispers.

And then he pushes me against the wall, his mouth scattering hot, hungry kisses all over my neck.

I feel the zipper of my dress opening and then cold air hits my chest but he covers my body almost immediately with his.

His shirt comes off next. And then my underwear. And finally, his briefs.

I feel my back hit the softest of beds. And then my breath hitches.

I can’t stop the moan. His groans only make me hotter.

I’m doing something to him. He can’t control himself either.

Perfect. Our griefs are the last thing on our minds.

His mouth claims my neck again and stars explode behind my eyes and I let myself go.

A few hours later, I lay in his arms underneath the white covers.

“I don’t even know your name.” He murmurs against my hair.

I shake my head. “No names.”

It’s not like we are going to meet again after this. I’m not usually like this. This is just a one-time thing.

“Maverick.” He says. I c**k my head to the side.

“Don’t worry, it’s a middle name no one actually knows. So you can have something to scream later.” He winks.

My chest vibrates with laughter.

“Maverick,” I taste the name in my mouth. “Isn’t that a mouthful?” I tease.

He turns us over so he is lying on top of me, his lips curved in a confident smile.

“I’m sure you’ll make it work.”

And then his lips are on mine again, silencing me before I can say anything else—not that I’m complaining.