Chapter Eight

Elle

NEW YORK WAS an exciting city to explore on my own.

But exploring it with another person—someone intensely attractive and utterly unpredictable—was one of the most incredible things I’d ever done.

Ten minutes had passed since leaving the alley, and in ten minutes, my pulse had skyrocketed then equalized to a steady thrum of awareness.

Walking beside him shouldn’t be such an adventure. He was just a man. This was just a city. But every footfall felt different. Every breath and glance and heartbeat.

We navigated the crowds together, pulling apart and re-joining as the curb became congested then empty.

Midnight struck the clock in Times Square, reminding me my birthday was officially over and a new day had begun.

I should be in bed.

I should call Dad to tell him I was okay, just in case he noticed I’d never come home.

Worries layered me, taking away the complex, not-entirely-understood joy of strolling through the city at night with a strange man at my side.

I did my best to shove the thoughts away, but they remained like a constant toothache.

“This way.” The man stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the road, keeping an eye out for oncoming traffic. “You sure you want to walk?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, his shoulders bunched around his ears. He couldn’t be cold. The air temperature wasn’t too bad.

Although, I had shrugged into the bomber jacket and zipped it up to my throat to replace the ruined top, so perhaps it was colder than I gave credit for.

A fine layer of sweat decorated my spine from walking at his quick pace.

He didn’t dawdle like I had. He moved ahead with long, leggy strides, expecting me to keep up. He didn’t glance at me or ask questions.

It gave me time to steal glances, whipping away memories of his height, mannerisms, and habits.

Not that I could read him.

His body language remained closed off; his arms tucked tight, jaw clenched firm. The beard hid the bottom half of his face, keeping him partially masked and perplexing.

Each step granted different thoughts: recollections of what’d happened with Adidas and Baseball Cap and what could’ve been the ruining of my body and mind if they’d succeeded in raping me.

Followed by the relief that this cryptic wanderer had been there at the right time and saved me.

How could I ever repay that?

He hadn’t just prevented a robbery. He’d stopped me from turning into a different person.

He’d provided me with shelter from a crossroads that might’ve switched my existence from Belle Elle heiress to mentally broken dependant.

~I wouldn’t have let it break me.~

But how could I know that? I believed in myself because of Dad’s tutelage and support. But I was still young. Nineteen was nothing compared to the years ahead.

The years this man had given back to me in a selfless act of protection.

The more we walked, the deeper the debt I had to pay. Shock gave way to realization of how close I’d come to being raped. I could still be in that alley, beaten, bloody, destroyed.

~But I’m not.~

He turned into more than just a stranger; he became my shield. A shield I needed to repay by any means necessary because eighty dollars was ~nothing~ compared to what he’d done.

My thoughts kept me busy as we did another block, heading past closed stores and an occasional drunk pedestrian.

I snuck glances at my companion, growing ever desperate to ask questions and learn pieces about him. To talk to the man who I’d only just met but who’d impacted my life more than anyone.

Did he know how grateful I was?

Did he understand what he’d done by saving me?

If he were homeless, I would help him.

If he were struggling, I would pay him.

A life for a life.

I wouldn’t stop until I’d saved his as he’d done mine.

His dark gaze captured me. Turbulent and deep, the pools of ferocity and calculation hid softer emotions underneath.

We weaved around thinning foot traffic, linked in some kismet way, moving close and apart, tethered with shared incident.

I hated that I’d already lied to him. That I hadn’t told him my real profession and hidden who I was. But I liked him believing I was nothing more than an office worker with a shoe box for a home.

I liked him thinking I was normal and not untouchable like all the boys from my school had.

~I like the way he looks at me.~

Like he felt something, too. Something he couldn’t understand—something that wasn’t sexual or chemical or named.

But something tugging us to stay together, to chase whatever it was that bounced from him to me.

I smiled softly, dropping my head as his stare became too intense. The hot blush on my cheeks hinted at my inexperience but also my openness around him.

If I didn’t feel something, I wouldn’t care how he looked at me.

If my tummy hadn’t turned into a trampoline, my heart double bouncing on my lungs, I wouldn’t mind the taut silence slowly growing tighter every second.

My father would be happy I’d found a…friend?

Dad’s firm but fair face appeared in my mind.

~Oh, no!~

My hand swooped to my throat to touch the sapphire star he’d given me—the star that made me feel so close to him. The one he’d bought me out of love.

It wasn’t there.

My neck was empty.

~They took it!~

I forgot to tell him to get it back.~

I slammed to a stop, looking over my shoulder as my fingers danced along my naked collarbone. Dad would kill me!

He would know I’d been out and mugged because there was no other way I would’ve let that necklace go.

~Shit.~

“Is everything okay?” He slowed a little, his arms relaxing with hands stuffed in his front hoodie pocket.

“My necklace. They still have it.”

He stopped. “What necklace?”

“My birthday present.” I sighed heavily, the weight of tears already crushing. “I know a silly necklace won’t mean much to you, but it was sentimental.”

He spread his legs, once again drawing my attention to how lithe and fast he looked. “You didn’t mention it when I asked if they’d taken anything else.”

“I know!” I grabbed my hair, twisting it with nerves. “I forgot. It all happened so fast.”

“If it meant so much to you, you should’ve remembered.” His tone wasn’t condescending or cruel, but his words bit into me like wasps.

I swallowed my sadness, embracing anger. “It was new. He gave it to me this morning.”

“And you’re sure they took it?”

“Of course, I’m sure.” I spun around, yanking my hair off my nape to show the cut left behind from when they’d yanked the chain. “See?”

“I asked for your belongings to be returned.” His face hardened as if taking my loss personally. “They returned them.”

“I know—”

“Be grateful you didn’t have to give up something else other than a birthday trinket.” He licked his lips, sullen annoyance bright in his gaze.

“By the way, happy birthday.” He turned and stalked forward, either expecting me to follow or doing his best to revoke his promise to escort me home.

He was right, of course. A silly gemstone in exchange for avoiding pain? It was a small price to pay.

But my God, it hurt to think of my father’s gift—my beautiful sapphire star—in the hands of those creeps.

Being touched by them, sitting in their grimy pockets, destined to be sold to someone who would never know its origins.

~Dad will hate me.~

Guilt ate at me with sharp silver teeth. My father would understand if I told him the truth about what’d happened—if I was brave enough to admit I’d left without telling anyone. He would forgive me.

But what would this man think of me? He’d rescued me, and instead of being relieved, I’d almost burst into tears because a necklace that was worth a few thousand had been taken.

A life was worth more than a bauble. I wasn’t a silly child anymore.

I’d never been a silly child.

~I won’t start now.~

Breaking into a jog, I caught up to him and touched his forearm. “I’m sorry. I made it seem like I wasn’t grateful. That I was blaming you for not getting it back.” I licked my lips. “I’m not.

“I’m just sad I let them take it, but you’re right. It’s only a necklace.”

He slammed to a stop, his eyes locked on where I touched him. He swallowed hard. “You don’t have to explain to me.”

“Yes, I do. I owe you. I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of princess.”

He shifted, his mouth pursing as he looked me up and down. “What birthday?”

I blinked. “What?”

“How old did you turn?”

“Oh, um—” I struggled to tell him. Not because I wanted to keep my private life private but because he was older than I was.

He looked mid-twenties with hardness only born from fighting every day of his life. I was soft where he was sharp. I knew how to fight but in boardrooms and on conference calls, not on the streets.

He sighed. “I get it. You don’t have to tell me.” Pushing away, he continued walking; his jeans scuffed by his dirty sneakers.

“No, wait.” I trotted after him. “I want to tell you.”

He paused as I returned to his side, comfortable beside him even though I didn’t know him. “I turned nineteen.”

He laughed, low and short. “Wow, I knew you were young but not ~that~ young.”

“How young did you think?”

His eyes tightened. “Twenty, twenty-one.”

“That’s not a big difference.”

He pushed off again, wedging his hands into his pockets, revealing a habit. “Still a teen.”

I didn’t let that irritate me. “How old are you?”

A slight chuckle sounded as he pulled his hood back up, hiding his shaggy black-brown hair, adding yet more shadows to his handsome face. “Older than you.”

With the hood and the night sky, his face danced on my memory, already fading—as if my eyes hadn’t captured his features enough to imprint long-term recollection.

I crossed my arms. “Tell me. I told you.”

He glanced at me sideways. “Twenty-five.”

“Six years. That’s not much.”

“It’s enough to get some people thrown in jail.”

“Some people?”

He tossed his head with a tight roll of his shoulders. “Forget it.”

We walked in silence for a moment, my fingers trailing once again to my naked throat. I hated that I’d forgotten about my necklace. That I hadn’t taken stock and asked for it back.

Did that mean I wasn’t worthy of such a gift—if I didn’t appreciate it enough to remember?

In a rash decision, I said, “You know, if I had remembered to ask for my necklace, it wouldn’t have been mine anymore.”

He scowled, waiting for me to continue.

“It would’ve been yours.”

Surprise flickered over his obscured face before finally settling into polite refusal. “No.”

“No?”

“Just no.”

Prickles raced down my spine. Half of me wanted to force him to accept the imaginary gift.

A sapphire could’ve converted to showers and meals and a roof over his head rather than dangle around my silly little neck.

But he hunched his shoulders—not in a regretful way but more regal, more honorable than I’d ever seen. “I don’t need your fucking charity.”

His curse cut through our odd conversation.

I couldn’t undermine his good deed by forcing him to hypothetically accept something he would never have. But he had to know how much I appreciated his help.

“I’ll give you more money when we get home, okay? I’ll make sure you’re compensated—”

“I’m not after your damn money,” he snapped. “If I was, I could’ve done what they did and robbed you where there were no witnesses.”

The busy city faded around me. “You wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know me.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” I ignored my sudden shiver. “So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What do you want? Where are you from? How can I return the favor?”

He bared his teeth. “I want nothing. I’m from nowhere. And you can’t return it.”

I didn’t let his fisted hands or taut body sway me. “Wanting nothing isn’t true. And you’re from somewhere…but I get if you want to keep it secret.

“Surely, there’s something you need.” I waved my arm at the congested pavement. “You’re not walking for your health.” I pointed at his bloody hands.

“Talking about health, you should probably have those looked at.” I moved closer, grabbing his wrist without thinking.

He stiffened.

Electricity sprang from him to me and me to him and every which way around us until we stood in a web of sparks from just the simplest touch.

His jaw clenched; his eyes narrowed and dark. Placing his hand over mine on his wrist, he ever so slowly pulled at my fingers until my grip was no more.

Dropping my hand from him, he whispered, “There is something.”

I shook my head, lost and confused and so scrambled I couldn’t follow. He noticed the question in my eyes, answering for me. “There is something I want ~from you~.”

“What? What do you want?”

He glanced away as if he hadn’t meant to say that. For a second, he looked like he’d bolt into the crowds and vanish. But then he cleared his throat. “Do you trust me?”

“What?”

His chocolate eyes locked on mine again. “Do you trust me?”

“I just met you.”

“Doesn’t matter. Yes or no.”

What should I say? That yes, in some weird way, I ~did~ trust him. Or no, I wasn’t stupid enough to trust someone who beat up two guys and then kept me longer than necessary in an alley.

He glowered, his intensity once again causing goosebumps. “Yes or no. It’s not hard.”

Slowly, I nodded. “Yes, I trust you.”

“Good.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and yanked me off the footpath. Without a word, he herded me across the road. Reaching the other side, he let me go but didn’t move far away.

Shared body heat hummed between us, growing thicker with things I didn’t understand. Things all so new and foreign but desperately wanted. “Where are we going?”

“Central Park.”

“What?” I slammed to a halt. “You can’t be serious. No one goes in there at this time of night. For safety reasons and for security. It’s not open.”

He grinned; the streetlight above him painted him in a golden glow, looking part angel, part devil. “I know a way in.”

I backed up. “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s just go home.”

His face darkened then solidified into determination. “You don’t get to do that. You just agreed to trust me.” He stepped forward, his chest brushing mine.

The cheap material of the bomber jacket rubbed the lace of my bra, making me achingly sensitive.

My neck bent to look up at him, drinking in the way his hair ran wild around his face, and his beard masked him, revealing only what he wanted to reveal.

“I’ll take you home afterward.” His hand came up, brushing aside a wayward blonde strand, his fingers kissing the side of my face.

I jolted but couldn’t move away. The concrete had turned into super glue.

Before I could reply, he dropped his touch, grabbed my hand, and dragged me toward the wall of Central Park.

He looked over his shoulder as we patrolled the rock barricade. Hauling himself up, he swung his legs over and dropped into nothing.

I dashed to the wall and looked down.

In the darkness, I barely made out his shape a few feet below.

His head tilted toward me, once again cloaked in the shadows he seemed to rule over, only his hands and face visible as he reached up. “Jump. I’ll catch you.”

~You’ll catch me?~

I wanted to yell, but the occasional late-night dog walker on the other side of the street kept me quiet. This was illegal. I didn’t want to get caught.

Imagine the publicity if this got out that I’d snuck out on my birthday, almost got molested, gave my dinner to a homeless guy, then gallivanted around the city doing bad things with a total stranger.

~Who the hell am I?~

I should turn around and find my own way home. I should hop in a cab and pay the driver when he dropped me off with the petty cash that was stored in the cloakroom upon arrival at Belle Elle.

I had so many options.

So I had no excuse when I deliberately chose none of them.

I slung my jean-clad legs over the wall, inhaled deep, and let go.