Darius (Starkis Family #5) (7 page)

“Uh, Chels, you’ve got to be kidding me, right? There has to be another way for you to access your unit.”

“Nope, this is it.”

“How the hell did this even pass inspection?” I muttered, following her up the narrow stairs. “You said your neighbor is elderly. How does she manage to get down these steps, especially in the winter?”

“Like I said, Daphne and I kind of take care of her, get her the stuff she needs from the store.”

“Because she can’t get out of her apartment? That’s crazy!”

She turned to face me, her expression solemn. “Darius, I know what this must look like to you, and obviously if you do decide to buy the building, you can do whatever you want with it, but this is home to the three of us. It may not be perfect, but it’s all we have. Please don’t take it away.”

Oh God. I felt as if I were knee-deep in quicksand and sinking fast. Her big blue eyes were bright and round with fear in the moonlight, and all I wanted was to make all of her problems go away. I didn’t want her or the people she cared about to have to live this way, but someone with as much pride as Chelsea had wouldn’t take charity.

“There has to be some way to install an elevator.” I gestured toward the alley. “And that right there is not okay with me. The thought of you coming home late at night and having to walk through an alley all by yourself kind of makes me feel sick.”

From now on, I’d ask her to text me as soon as she walked in the door, no matter the time.

She rested her hands on either side of my face. “You are too good to be true, Darius Starkis. Guys like you just don’t happen to girls like me.”

A lump rose in my throat when her eyes held mine. No one had ever looked at me as though they thought
I
was special. I was used to women who were excited to be with me so they could brag to their friends about bagging a billionaire, but Chelsea didn’t give a damn about my family’s money. That made me feel things for her that I couldn’t even begin to describe.

“You got it all wrong, baby. Girls like you don’t happen to guys like me,” I whispered, leaning in to kiss her. Our kiss was tender and slow, exactly what I knew she needed. I was being cautious, following her lead. For me, this was moving slow, but it probably felt like breakneck speed to her. “I get girls who want me to buy them things and take them to fancy parties. I never get sweet, genuine girls who are as beautiful on the inside as they are on the outside.”

She reached up on her toes and wrapped her arms around my neck, sighing contentedly. I gripped her tight around her tiny waist, inhaling the fresh scent of her strawberry shampoo, thinking I wanted to wake up to that scent on my pillow.

“Shall we go inside?” she whispered, finally releasing me.

“Sure.”

We walked down a dark, narrow hallway with burnt-out bulbs and stained-and-torn green carpet that looked as though it had been there since the sixties. When I finally spoke to the building owner with an offer, he was going to get a piece of my mind. He had no right to collect rent money while making his tenants live in these deplorable conditions.

I noticed her hand shaking as she fit the key into the lock. Before she could turn the knob, I reached for her hand. “Hey, don’t think for a second I’m going to judge you. Where you live doesn’t define you, Chels. You know that, right?”

Her chin quivered as her eyes slowly met mine. “I just…” She swallowed, squaring her shoulders. “I can only imagine the way you must live, and well…” She gestured toward the door. “This is nothing. I mean, it’s something. It’s the best we can afford right now. We’re both saving money, and when I get a better paying job, we hope to be able to find a better apartment but—”

I held my index finger over her plump lips. “You don’t have to justify anything to me.”

Knowing that she’d grown up all alone and was as together as she seemed to be impressed the hell out of me. My snobby Ivy League friends would never have survived the hell she’d been through.

She took a deep breath and nodded before turning the knob. When we stepped into the tiny foyer, which was really only a few square feet of worn tile, she flicked a switch to bathe the adjoining living room in dim light. Their furniture consisted of an old beige couch and matching chair with a scarred wood coffee table and two mismatched tables and lamps. There was a small flat screen TV on a round table in the corner, and the brown curtains, which looked threadbare, were drawn. I peeked into the kitchen, which consisted of a small blue countertop, a few white cupboards, and white apartment-sized appliances. There was a tiny microwave but no dishwasher.

“Do you spend a lot of time here?” I didn’t know how anyone could hang out here without getting depressed. I’d only been here a few minutes and couldn’t wait to leave.

“I work as much as I can,” she said, shrugging. “It’s a place to eat and crash.”

I hesitated about taking off my shoes. The worn brown carpet looked as though it had been vacuumed recently, but it was still kind of sketchy.

“Don’t bother,” she said. “We never do.”

As I followed her down a half hall, I asked, “Um, how much do you pay for rent, if you don’t mind me asking?” I’d know soon enough anyhow.

“Fifteen hundred.”

Only in New York.
I peeked into the bathroom, noting a plain white shower curtain covered the tub, probably for a reason. The sink and toilet looked as though they were original to the sixty-year-old building. No doubt about it, the place definitely needed an overhaul.

“Um, would you have anywhere to stay while this is being renovated?”

She turned to face me, looking alarmed. “No, I hadn’t even thought about that.”

“Don’t worry about it. You and Daphne can stay at my apartment in Manhattan. I’ll put your neighbor up in a nearby hotel.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said, gripping my hand. “It’s too much.”

I shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I usually stay in the Hamptons during the week anyhow. I just come to the city on weekends to meet up with friends or…” Hook up with women. But I couldn’t say that to her.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it,” she said, poking my stomach. “I get it.” She smiled to let me know she wasn’t concerned. “But why have you been here the last couple of nights if you’re working in the Hamptons?”

“Thursday night I met Damon and Deacon here. Last night, I met Billy. Tonight, it was Chase.”

She rolled her tongue around in her cheek, looking amused. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were making excuses to see me.”

I grabbed her waist, pulling her close. “Damn, you figured me out.”

“Well,” she said, gripping my shoulders, “let’s finish this grand tour so we can get the hell out of here.”

I couldn’t argue with that, though the thought of having Chelsea in close proximity to a bedroom did hold some appeal.

“This is my room.” She bit her lip, waiting for my response.

There was nothing in it, just a mattress on the floor and a single small dresser with a stack of library books on top. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to embarrass her, but I couldn’t stand the thought of her living this way. She deserved so much better.

“And this is Daphne’s room.” She threw the door next to hers open so fast, it banged against the wall behind it.

This room was slightly larger than Chelsea’s, and at least it had a dresser with mirror, a real bed, and a single nightstand.

“So that’s it. You’ve seen the whole place.” She pushed past me as though she couldn’t wait to get out of there.

“Hey,” I said, gripping her wrist and hauling her back against my chest. I curled my arms around her, and it took her a minute to relax, so I knew she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being confined. “We’re gonna make this better, Chels. You’ll see. You won’t even recognize it when I’m finished.”

“Um, I hate to ask,” she said, her voice low, “because obviously I know the place needs work and we’re really grateful you’ll be making improvements, but do you think you’ll have to raise the rent a lot?”

“Not a penny,” I whispered in her ear.

“Darius, we don’t want charity. It’s only fair we—”

“What you’ve been paying for this place, in its current state, is anything but fair. Once I make the improvements, then it’ll be worth what you’re paying. I’ve done my homework. The average rent in this area for a two-bedroom is fifteen hundred, and this place is far from average. It’s way, way below average.” I kissed her temple to soften my words. “But by the time I’m finished, it’ll be way above average.”

“But shouldn’t the rent reflect that?”

If only she knew how impressed I was with her. The fact that she clearly had nothing but was concerned about being fair to someone with my resources blew my mind. “That landlord hasn’t been fair to you all along. You’ve been paying a lot more than you should for this place. All I’m doing is making things right.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “No one has ever…” She shook her head when her voice caught. “I’m just really not used to people doing nice things for me without expecting something in return.”

“For the record, renovating your apartment has nothing to do with the fact that I’m attracted to you. I’d be doing this if you lived here with your husband because it’s the right thing to do.” She stiffened in my arms, and I could tell right away that I’d said something wrong. “What is it? What—”

“Let’s just go,” she said, grabbing my hand. “I need to get out of here.”

Chelsea

Darius said he was craving pizza, so he talked me into walking down the street with him so we could share one. When he’d mentioned a husband earlier, I was so tempted to tell him about Shaun, to explain that what had happened with him was why I could never get close to another man. But in the end, I’d chickened out. Maybe because I selfishly wanted just a little more time with him before I dropped the bomb.

“We like our pizza the same way,” Darius said, winking at me over the mouth-watering deep-dish pie. “That has to be a good sign, right?”

“I think you’re reaching now, Starkis.”

I rarely had money for takeout, so the last couple of nights had been a rare treat. My dinners usually consisted of cold cereal, ramen noodles, or microwave Kraft dinners. I made spaghetti with tomato sauce when I felt like splurging. My diet meant I was probably seriously deficient in a lot of nutrients, but I hoped I wouldn’t have to live like this forever.

“Have you thought any more about my offer to manage the club?”

“Sure, I’ve thought about it.” Full-time hours and a salary would mean I could quit the bartending job I hated. Serving alcohol to a bunch of drunk asses with two sets of hands was not my idea of a good time. “But I don’t want to get my hopes up. You still have to figure out whether you really want to take this club on. It’s a lot given how busy you are.”

I didn’t know why I felt the need to remind him of that. Darius buying the club and building could be great for me, both personally and professionally, but I’d learned a long time ago that when I looked forward to something, I often got disappointed. I tried to keep my wishful thinking to a minimum.

“Why do you do that?” he asked, reaching for his soft drink.

“Do what?” The way he was looking at me made me uncomfortable, as though he’d figured out a secret about me that I wasn’t ready to share.

“Refuse to hope.”

That was a loaded question if I’d ever heard one. For men like Darius, hope led to the inevitable outcome of getting what they wanted. For me, it led to heartbreak. I’d allowed myself to believe that my marriage would work out, that somehow Shaun and I would figure things out together, and he’d checked out before we had a chance.

“I’m hopeful,” I said, trying not to sound as defensive as I felt. I didn’t want him to see me as a negative person who saw only the rain clouds, never the sunshine. I wasn’t a pessimist. I was a realist. “I hope I’ll be able to save enough money to go to school. I hope I’ll be a headliner at a hot comedy club.” I felt bad indicating Billy’s was a stepping stone for me, but as much as I loved the people I worked with, I would have to move on eventually, unless Darius proved to be a miracle worker.

He was watching me carefully, making me squirm. “Go on. What else do you hope for?”

How was this man drawing these things out of me? I never shared my secret wishes with anyone, not even Daphne. I used to be a dreamer. As a child, I’d talk to my foster families about the amazing parents who would adopt me one day. But after years of being made fun of for “being stupid,” I’d just stopped dreaming and accepted my fate. No one was coming to rescue me. I had to figure out how to make it on my own. And I did.

“I hope to get a better paying job so I can quit the bartending gig,” I said.

“Just not your thing?”

I considered letting it go with a brief nod, but I heard myself say, “I grew up around quite a few alcoholics who behaved badly. I guess I never wanted to get into the habit of using it as a crutch the way they did.”

“Did they ever hurt you while they were drinking?”

The genuine concern in his eyes touched me. I had friends who cared about me, but Darius barely knew me. He had no reason to care so much.

“No, the foster kids were their meal ticket. Any reports of abuse would have resulted in an investigation, which may have resulted in charges but most definitely would have meant the state wouldn’t have continued to place children in their care. They wouldn’t risk that.”

“Did you ever have foster parents who were… decent?”

“Sure, I guess.” The scale of decency was skewed in my mind though. If they left me alone and didn’t raise their voices or call me names, I thought they were decent.

“What kind of impact did being a foster child have on you? I mean, did it influence your decision about having kids of your own someday?”

“I won’t have kids.” I shook my head. “I’m not cut out to be a mom. It’s not that I’m selfish—at least, I don’t think I am. I just happen to do better on my own. I can’t imagine having someone else depending on me when I have enough trouble taking care of myself.”