Grace Street (A Chapter 8 Novel, #1) (4 page)

Just as quickly as he had appeared, he was
gone, with only the smell of his manliness lingering in the air.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, wondering if
everything that had just taken place had been a figment of her
imagination. Saturday was only two days away. It wasn’t nearly
enough time to think over something so important. Again, she was
kidding herself. She already knew what her answer would be and
there was no point in denying the spark of excitement at the
prospect of embarking on the perilous path set before her.

The two days had come and gone far too
quickly. Elsa had peered out her apartment window multiple times
hoping to see the pewter-colored Nissan GT-R, but it was nowhere in
sight. Apparently the elusive man who made her an inappropriate
offer thought he had gleaned everything he needed to know about
her. How wrong he was. Elsa was full of little perversions and
secrets that she held near and dear to her heart. Things she hadn’t
told anyone and the sort of things a simple background check would
never reveal.

Two days should’ve been enough time for her
to do a little background digging of her own on Victor Laurenzo,
aka Mr. Black, but work had kept her busy. With the Saturday
meeting looming less than twelve hours away, she tried to do an
online search of his name, only to find her internet service was
sluggish and anytime his name was entered into the search engine,
she would be redirected to another site. It was as if destiny, or
more likely fate, were intervening and keeping her from the truth,
and maybe that was a good thing. It felt risky not knowing who she
was agreeing to start a ‘physical association’ with. A little
intrigue never hurt anyone, after all. Or did it? She was fully
aware of what she was agreeing to. Okay, so she didn’t know the
fine details yet, but tomorrow would bring all the answers she
sought.

Sleep that night was fitful and her nerves
were frayed beyond repair. After getting up to get a drink of
water, she glanced out her bedroom window and there he was, Mr.
Black. She stood watching him from a slit in her curtains, trying
to imagine what he was thinking about. An orange light flickered
inside his darkened car and his driver’s side window rolled down, a
puff of smoke billowing out. With his perfect façade, she didn’t
take him to be a smoker. Several minutes passed and a nervous
fluttering settled deep in her belly and moved downward to the
place that she would soon be sharing with Mr. Black. She wanted
him, there was no denying it. The glow of the cigarette brightened
each time he inhaled and she slowed her breathing to match his.

Prying herself from the window, she slipped
on a satin robe and quickly descended the two flights of stairs to
the side exit of her building. The sultry Virginia wind whipping
outside wreaked havoc on her hair, but it was the least of her
concerns. She wanted to see Mr. Black up close and personal and to
study his lean, bronze-skinned profile. She wanted to smell his
masculinity and to peer into his critical eyes.

Sneaking to the side of the building as
quietly as possible, she moved up behind his car, being careful to
stay in his blind spot. Just as she moved closer, his driver’s side
window slid down all the way and he flicked the cigarette out. A
gust of smoke came out along with his signature scent. Music
filtered through the open window and past her ears to the sound of
Demons
by Imagine Dragons. What demons was Victor hiding?
Besides his obvious and less than secretive stalking tendencies,
that is. A tremor ran through Elsa. She felt ridiculous and
breathless like a girl of eighteen as she hid in the shadows of his
car just to get a glimpse of the man who wanted to have sex with
her. Praying his doors were unlocked, she moved quickly to the
passenger door and let herself in, completely taking him by
surprise.

With wide, agitated eyes, he glared at her.
“Sneaking up on a man is a good way to get your ass kicked,” he
grumbled through gritted teeth.

Elsa tried to resist a smile. Mr. Black was
quite appealing when caught unaware. “The look of surprise is
becoming of you,” she dared to smirk.

Even in the dark, it was hard to miss his jaw
clenched and his eyes narrowed. “Get out,” he barked, reaching over
and opening her door.

When he leaned across her, his arm brushed
against her scantily clad body and the smell of smoke, citrus and
bergamot tantalized her. She wasn’t leaving just yet. The fun had
just started. Pulling her door closed, his lips parted in surprise
again.

“This isn’t a fucking game, Elsa,” his deep
voice boomed.

“Then why are you sitting out here in the
middle of the night taunting me?” she blurted, scarcely aware of
her own voice.

He blinked long and hard and for a brief
moment, seemed to be at a loss for words. After giving her body a
raking once over, his eyes rested on her bare feet. “You’re out
here barely dressed and not even wearing any shoes. What the hell
were you thinking?” his mouth curved into a tight frown.

“I wasn’t thinking,” she moistened her lips
nervously.

His mouth thinned in displeasure.
“Clearly.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying
to appear unaffected by his words and leaned back into the leather.
“Why are you here when we have a meeting tomorrow?”

Sinking back into the seat next to her,
Victor nonchalantly fidgeted with the stereo settings and turned
the music up.

“Because I couldn’t wait to see you,” his
tone softened.

The coolly impersonal tone of his voice and
statement were contradictory to one another and puzzled her. She
watched him warily as he glanced sideways, obviously trying to
gauge her expression.

“Now get out,” his voice hardened once
again.

She sat for several more long moments trying
to read his expression but he was a like a deep, dark cavern –
bottomless and mysterious. Would he always be like this? Too tired
to try and figure him out in the few minutes she had stolen with
him, she reached for the door handle and turned her body to leave.
She peered over her shoulder one last time to see Victor watching
her intensely and she wondered who the hell this man was and what
was she doing considering getting involved with him.

“Next time you decide to stop by my
apartment, come to the door like a normal person. Sitting out here
like a perverted creeper is a turn off,” she sniped just before
exiting, knowing damn well she had just bold-faced lied. Everything
about this man was a turn on, even his vile stalking
tendencies.

Just as she stepped out of the car, Victor
spoke, “Normalcy is also subjective, Elsa. Keep that in mind the
next time you decide to speak out of turn.”

*

Elsa got only five good hours of sleep before
rising early enough to get ready for her meeting. Seeing as Mr.
Black had ruined her favorite, she dressed in her second best
skirt; a white ruffled mini and a white and pink, lace and satin
button down steam punk top. It was modest yet showed off her
moderately-sized bust nicely. With her Mary-Jane heels on, lips
glossed and hair tousled and pulled up into a loose bun, she drove
to the address on the piece of paper – 2500 East Grace Street.

She had driven past it twice already to scope
it out. It was a gorgeous brick brownstone with white trimmed
windows, and an ornate black double door entrance set behind black
wrought-iron pillars. Mr. Black had stated he had just finalized
the paperwork on the place and she was eager to see the interior
and what he had done with it.

When she pulled up, his Nissan was nowhere to
be seen and she feared her antics and remark from the previous
night had ruined her chances with him. She quickly walked around
the property before making her way to the entrance. Just then her
phone chirped with a text message.

Unknown: Key is located under a rock, third
bush to your right.

Elsa scanned the street again. The message
was obviously from Mr. Black who was watching her, but from where?
Or maybe he sent the message just assuming that she would be on
time. She found the key and opened the door and was immediately hit
with the smell of old oak wood. An opulent railed staircase graced
the foyer that was decked out in hand-painted glass tiles. She had
never seen anything quite like this home and she hadn’t even
ventured into the other rooms yet. Undecided as to whether or not
she should wait for Mr. Black, her curiosity got the best of her
and she roamed through the house slowly, taking in her
surroundings. To her dismay, there was only the bare minimum of
furnishings: a small bistro table in the dining area with two
seats; a red velvet chaise lounge in the living room with a
matching duchess chair with white trim nearby, and nothing else on
the lower level.

When she climbed the long stairway to the
large master suite, it was just as barren as the rest of the house.
In the middle of the room sat a king-sized, brushed metal, canopied
bed draped in white silk linens. It was an odd spot for the bed and
looked out of place. The only other piece of furniture was a wooden
chair facing the double bay window.

She then found her way to the master bathroom
to find fresh towels in every size, all in white, along with a
variety of body soaps and oils. Doing a double-take, she looked
herself over in the large mirror that nearly covered an entire
wall. Her sad eyes stared back and she smiled at her reflection,
trying to convince herself that she was doing the right thing. She
needed the physical intimacy that only a man could provide without
the trouble of an emotional attachment and that’s what Mr. Black
was offering. Of course it was the right thing.

Glancing at her watch, she realized she had
been waiting for nearly twenty minutes. She didn’t even have a
phone number for Victor to call to make sure he was coming. She
scanned the details of the text message only to find the number was
listed as private. Leaving the suite, she found a locked door at
the far end of the short hallway that she assumed was another
bedroom and tried to peek into the old style keyhole only to see it
was blocked from the other end. Elsa hated locked doors and she
jimmied with the door knob for nearly a minute. She even searched
her handbag for something to pick the lock with but to no avail.
Giving up, she went back downstairs and seated herself at the
bistro table to play a game on her phone for several minutes as she
waited.

Looking at her watch again, she began to
become irritated. Thirty-five minutes had passed since her arrival.
The least Mr. Black could do was call and let her know he was on
his way. Moving to the chaise lounge, she loosened the top button
of her shirt, kicked her shoes off and laid out on it, resting her
head back and closing her eyes. She hadn’t even realized she had
dozed off until a sensual dream flickered over the insides of her
eyelids. Hot, needy hands were felt on her body as they worked
their way up and over her calves and then thighs. She felt her
skirt tugged and hiked up underneath her bottom and her panties
pushed to the side. Just as a tongue slicked across her folds and
tickled her clit, she arched her body and thrust her hips.

Elsa’s dreams had always been vivid and
realistic, and there was no reason to believe this time was any
different. She was positive she was dreaming and didn’t want to
awaken. Her pussy muscles began to tighten and contract when she
felt a firm squeeze on each of her breasts and a tweak of her
nipples. What followed next were warm, moist lips on her mouth. Her
lips parted instinctively as she fought to stay asleep when the
faint taste of cigarette and mint assaulted her senses. A raspy
tongue slicked across her teeth, then massaged the ridges of the
roof of her mouth. The sensation was alluring and erotic and felt
so real she didn’t want it to end, but a sudden sharp bite to her
bottom lip brought her back to reality and her body tensed as her
eyes popped open. Victor was standing above her, his hands resting
at his sides, his eyes gleaming, his mouth still glistening wet
from their brief oral encounter, and his dark-gray slacks barely
concealing his hard-on.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he
wiped his mouth.

Breathless and with her heart beating
rapidly, she swung her legs over the side of the lounger and
smoothed her hair down and her ruffled skirt back over her legs.
Her first sexual activity with Victor had proven to be just as
mystifying as everything surrounding him. Still dazed from her
half-asleep kiss, she did her best to compose herself. Even if he
had been imagining what she tasted like, she was more than just a
little irritated with Mr. Black for taking liberties with her while
she was unaware. Quickly slipping her shoes back on, she stood
brusquely and grabbed her purse. She pushed past him and as she
moved toward the front door, she was halted by his deep voice.

“Leaving so soon? We’ve only just begun our
little game,” he stated just as she turned the knob and cracked the
door open.

Elsa peered over her shoulder to see Mr.
Black watching her with an intense yet smug look on his face. Is
that what this was to him? A damned game? “You told me this wasn’t
a game, remember?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I lied.”

Her mouth became unbearably dry at the
thought of being played with. She didn’t want to be hurt again. “Is
that how this game is played? With lies?”

“The game is played in a variety of ways, Ms.
Cassidy. Stay and I’ll teach you the rules.”

Playing a game with the intriguing man
standing before her sounded like a tempting and nearly impossible
idea to resist. She knew it was wrong and stupid beyond comparison
to consider, but still… she wanted to play his game.

“You could’ve called and let me know that you
were going to be late,” she said softly but with her eyes revealing
her agitation.