Forever Lies

8

Ma had been one of the good ones, and I had tested her patience at every opportunity. I spent far too many hours out on the streets with friends, especially during hours of the night when no good can come from wandering about. She raised Ari and me on her own, giving us every advantage she could scrape together. It hadn’t been much, but it was a hell of a lot more than some kids got. She was a hard worker, patient, kind, but also firm. She had expectations of us. That alone was a gift many kids never received, and one I hadn’t appreciated until she was gone. Often, I’d look to the sky and wonder if she was watching. If she knew the things I’d done. For a while, it weighed on me—the guilt. Over the years, I’d come to terms with who I was and my role in the world. I’d shed my worries about her disappointment like an ill-fitting skin, sluffed off on the rocks, never to be seen again. Times change, however. Just as my world shifted when my mom died, I could sense a new shift in my trajectory. For the first time in many years, other people were counting on me—watching and waiting to see how I’d perform. I may have fallen short where my ma was concerned, but this time, I wasn’t going to fail. I was ten years older and a hell of a lot wiser. Wise enough to know that tangling myself with Alessia probably wasn’t the brightest move. I needed an in, and while I could have chosen someone a little frumpier and less appealing, I’d convinced myself the moment I’d seen Alessia that she was the one. She would make the job far more enjoyable—where was the harm in that? Two birds, one stone. I was all about efficiency. It had been weeks since I’d gotten laid. I wasn’t the indiscriminate teenager anymore who f****d anything in a skirt. Whether they knew better or not, women regularly offered themselves up to me on a silver platter. I’d learned over the years that the old adage, quality over quantity, had merit. Any guy with a d**k could stick it in a hole—there was no satisfaction in that. The pursuit of something far more refined was infinitely more appealing. Alessia was the definition of refined. She would be the perfect quarry, and the hunter in me was clawing to start the chase. OceanofPDF.com 4 Alessia I had tried not to obsess over the elevator incident, watching television and playing games on my phone that evening, trying to clear my mind. But when I’d laid down in the darkness of my bedroom, all I could think of was the soft curve of his lips and how they’d feel pressed against mine. By morning, I was little more than a puddle of female hormones. I hadn’t expected to hear from Luca immediately, but I was still disappointed the next morning when my phone showed no missed calls or messages. He didn’t strike me as the type to engage in silly games, but he also didn’t seem like a man who would be desperate for a woman’s attention. He said he would be in touch, and I believed he would, in his own time. Until then, should I run into him at work, I wanted to make certain he knew what was at stake. I spent a solid hour on my hair alone that morning, ensuring every detail of my appearance was perfect. I may have been a hot mess emotionally, but I was one damn good-looking hot mess. When I crossed the marble floors of the lobby on my way into work, my eyes were drawn straight to Luca. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the sight of the man. Each time I saw him, he rendered me breathless. He wasn’t just attractive; he was animal magnetism personified. He was every crush and craving, each desire and fantasy, all rolled into one. Something about him called to me on a visceral level, and I was powerless to deny it. He stood with two other men near the center of the room, listening to one of them talk. Another day and another expensive suit, this time accented with a simple black tie. Compared to the two men he was with, Luca was a formidable presence. Where others were simple evergreens crowded in a forest of trees, he was an ancient redwood, statuesque and imposing. It wasn’t merely height that made the man stand out, it was the powerful aura that surrounded him. People stepped out of their way to give him a wide berth while their eyes were drawn his direction, unable to look away from the man who exuded power from his every pore. My hands tingled in anticipation at the sight of him, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how he affected me. Instead of walking over to say hello or letting him catch me staring, I turned my head just before he began to look my direction and took the escalator without a backward glance. Inside, I may have been a teenager fangirling over her celeb crush, but on the outside, I forced an impervious air all the way to the office. Work was infinitely more enjoyable without Roger there. We had a quick staff meeting in the morning, and I was able to catch up with a couple coworkers I hadn’t spoken to in a while, which made the morning pass quickly and kept thoughts of Luca from occupying my mind. When I finally returned to my desk, I had a text waiting for me. I saw you watching me. My body thrummed with excitement at receiving his text. I thought about admitting the truth, but I decided there was no way he could have seen me staring at him. I don’t know what you’re talking about. His reply was almost instant. Don’t lie to me, ever. The words sent a shiver prickling down my spine. Had he truly known I’d been watching? How? And how did he manage to be domineering even over a text? I felt like I was back in school, being reprimanded by a teacher, and it automatically elevated my defenses. I’m not making any promises. I didn’t ask for promises, just honesty. Well, damn. When he put it that way, I felt like an ass for resisting. Asking for honesty wasn’t so unreasonable—it was a far cry from demanding the truth. Funny the difference a few words could make. Alright, I’ll do my best. There was no response for several minutes. His other replies had been immediate, and I wondered where he was and what might have his attention. I debated putting the phone down and getting back to work, feeling foolish for staring at a screen, waiting for a reply, but the conversation dots appeared before I could force the phone from my hand. Let me take you to dinner. I noted the absence of a question mark—yet another command. Did the man ever ask politely for anything, or was every word out of his mouth an order? I had an intrinsic reaction to his domineering behavior in person, but over text, I felt more in control. No, I don’t even know you.