Strangers on a Train I (10 page)

The huge paneled room, located at the end of the hallway, was lined with built-in shelves filled with toys. I recognized them all—from Moshi Monsters to Transformers. On a wall facing a large, comfy-looking slipcovered couch was the biggest flat screen television I’d ever seen. It must have been close to five-feet long. Ben showed me his sizeable collection of Ike’s Tikes, and then my eyes landed on a toy that brought a smile to my face—it was a Green Power Ranger. For sure, the original one from the l990’s. I had loved the
Power Rangers
growing up, and my favorite had been Tommy, the Green Ranger, because he was somewhat of an outsider like me. I’d actually had a secret crush on him.

“Wow! Where’d you get the Green Ranger?” I asked Ben.

“It was Daddy’s when he was growing up.”

Ari gazed at me shyly, almost embarrassed that he had once played with Power Rangers. Now, I supposed he only played with power. And clits.

“My father bought it for me,” he said, flushing. “The Green was my favorite because I was really into the martial arts. I still practice.”

So Ari, the warrior god, was also a martial artist. Fitting.

“Grandpa’s name was Benjamin like mine,” interjected Ben.

So Ari had named his son in tribute to his father. It was a very Jewish thing to do. On an end table, I noticed a photograph of a handsome chestnut-haired man who had his arm wrapped around an angelic golden-haired boy. The child looked to be the same age as Ben to whom the man bore a striking resemblance. Of course, Ari and his father. I could detect the loving bond between them, further evidenced by the fact that Ari had named his son after him.

“Do you want to play Pac-Man with me?” asked Ben, plopping down on the couch and grabbing a remote.

“Ben,” chided Ari. “I don’t think—”

I cut him off. “Sure. You first.”

Ben loaded the game onto the big screen TV and began clicking the remote with his thumbs. Both Ari and I kept our eyes riveted on the screen as he managed to get to level three, scoring 1235 points.

“OK, your turn.” Beaming with pride, the little boy handed me the remote. Ari fired me a bemused look of disbelief.

I plunked down on the couch and began to feverishly press the remote. My eyes stayed glued on the little open-mouthed
yellow face gobbling up pellets and striving to eat enemies before they ate me. In high school, no one could beat me at Pac-Man. Or at RISD. It had been a while since I had played, but I had not lost my touch. At the end of ten minutes, I was at level five with 2035 points.

“Wow!” exclaimed Ben. “You’re awesome.”

“Saarah, you are surprisingly good at manipulating things with your hands,” smirked Trainman.

The innuendo (and boy, was he full of them tonight) made my skin prickle. And not just on the back of my neck.

“Let’s play again,” begged Ben.

A familiar voice stopped me from answering. “It
eez
bedtime for Señor Ben.” Standing in the arched entrance was Luisa, her arms folded under her buxom chest. A warm smile spread across her coffee-skinned face.

Ben frowned. His father gave him a signal to get up, a jerk of his chin toward the hallway.

“No fair,” he sulked. He reluctantly rose from the couch, leaving the remote behind, and shuffled over to Luisa. She wrapped an ample arm around the child’s slender shoulder.

“Luisa, I’ll be there in a minute to tuck him in and read him a good-night story,” said my Trainman.

I was impressed by what a devoted father he was. A pang of sadness stabbed me. That was something I had never had in my life.

The adorable little boy gazed up at me and then broke away from Luisa to give me a hug. The warmth of his little arms wrapped around me radiated throughout me.

“Thanks, Sarah, for my cool train. Can you come over and play Pac-Man with me again?”

I fired an uncertain look at Ari. The impassive expression on his face was unreadable. “Maybe,” he said. My heart quivered.

After wishing us
“buenas noches,”
Luisa shepherded Ben out of the room, leaving me alone with Ari. I did not want this evening to end. I wanted to be in his arms and make delicious love with him in his bed.
Don’t go there, Sarah
. I was hit hard with the realization that it was time for me to leave. That I would not be spending the night.

“I should say good night.” My voice wavered.

“Wait for me here. I’ll be right back.” He abandoned me but returned quickly holding a small shopping bag. “Yours,” he said, handing me the bag.

With just a glance, I knew what was inside. I took out the Jimmy Choo box and lifted the lid. Inside were the black satin peep-toe stilettos. I was on the verge of crying.

“Thanks.” My voice was watery.

He tilted up my chin with his elegant fingers as I fought back tears. “I thought you might like to have them back. You’re quite a Cinderella.”

In some way, at this moment, I felt like Cinderella. A clock gonged in my head. It was time to leave. That was the deal.

“I’ll walk you to the elevator.” He ushered me out of the room and walked by my side as we traversed the long foyer. There was no physical contact, not even the holding of a hand. Maybe, “maybe” really meant maybe. Or never. I had to remember that this man was afraid of a relationship. Afraid of commitment. I had to accept that. It just wasn’t as easy as I thought.

Ari pushed the button by the elevator, and the gilded door immediately slid open. To my shock, he shoved me into the carriage, straight into a corner. As the door closed, he spun me around and crushed his lips onto mine. The kiss was hard, all-consuming, and passionate. A fire re-ignited in my core and coursed through my body. Oh what a kisser this gorgeous god was.

When the door reopened, he pulled his lips off mine. I was breathing heavily, and my legs were like jelly.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he said, leaning his body against the door to hold it open.

“Sure,” I said breathlessly.

“Andre is waiting for you outside to take you home.”

My heart sunk. Reality. I was going home.

As I stepped out into the lobby, he placed his strong hands on my shoulders, holding me back. He pivoted me around to face him. My skin tingled from his touch.

“Good night, Saarah.”

My gaze held his as if we would never see each other again. “Good night.” I held back the tears that were threatening to fall.

Forcing myself not to look back, I headed toward the entrance of 1001 Park Avenue. I heard the elevator door close behind me. My heart sunk further. He didn’t ask me out. Or even ask me to meet him for a coffee or something. Clutching the bag with my shoes, I stepped into the starry New York night, unsure if some form of “us” was meant to be.

4

I
WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, with Jo-Jo and reality in my face. I had not slept well. My evening with Ari plagued me, and I’d had a nightmare in which I was Dorothy and his sister was the Wicked Witch of the West. “I’ll get you and your little pussy Jo-Jo,” she had cackled.

As I stumbled out of bed, doubt racked my brain. I had no clue if I’d see Trainman again, or after last night, he’d want to see me. I had to remember this was a man who was fucked up. He had not been in a serious relationship since he’d left his wife and commitment—okay, date—was a four-letter word.

Heading into the bathroom to brush my teeth, pee, and shower (in that order), I decided today was as good a day as any to start looking for a second job to help pay for my mother’s treatments. My plan was to scour the local restaurants, of which there were many, to see if I could get an evening and/or weekend job as a waitress or hostess. The good news was that I had done both before to help pay my RISD expenses. I was an exemplary employee—punctual, hard-working, personable, and courteous—and could expect glowing recommendations from my former employers. Later, I would call my mom, and hopefully, we could share good news.

Dressed in a mid-length, paisley skirt, an oversized navy sweater, and my beloved combat boots, I trotted down the stairs, passing Mrs. Blumberg. She was already carrying two shopping bags full of groceries.

“How
vas
your date?” she asked.

“Very nice,” I replied with a quick smile. I skipped down the stairs, avoiding further contact with her but pondering my response.
Very nice
…
but.

Upon opening the front door to the building, sunlight invaded my eyes. Squinting, I recalled that for New Yorkers, today, the first day of the three-day Memorial Day weekend, was the first official day of summer. The streets were empty. Families and singletons, like me, had already escaped the rushed, stressful life of the Big Apple by heading to more restful destinations like The Hamptons. Like Lauren and her fiancé, Taylor. Rentals and second homes. Just not me, who could afford neither. And truthfully, I had better things to do than sun on the beach.

Heading east on Forty-Fifth Street, Ari filled my mind. My body ached for his arms, his lips, his tongue, and his member.
Sarah, take one day at a time.
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see him again. Or if I could survive his threatening sister.

As I rounded the corner to Eighth Avenue, a car honked loudly behind me. I turned my head to see what the commotion was about. Rolling up to me was a midnight blue Bentley convertible. A beyond handsome man wearing a white visor and t-shirt and expensive-looking wraparound sunglasses, was at the wheel. Holy shit!

“Get in,” he ordered.

“I can’t,” I stammered, marching up Eighth Avenue.

The Bentley trailed me.

“Get your sweet ass in the car, now,” barked the driver. He pulled up to the curb and opened the car door.

Torn between stepping into the car, in front of the car, and running away as fast and far away as I could, I opted for the former, against my better judgment.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked after slamming the heavy car door closed and fastening my seat belt.

Ari peeled away from the curb. “It’s a surprise. Ben requested you come.”

Ben? I guess I’d made a positive impression on him. Haha. Score more points for me. I held back a wry smile.

“We’ll be spending the weekend.”

I jolted as Ari picked up speed. I was spending the weekend with this god and his son? I hadn’t even spent a night with him! In fact, I hardly knew him.

Ari glanced my way. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I stammered. Truthfully, I was already regretting getting into the car. I had no clue where he was taking me. I had nothing to wear. I should be looking for a second job. I was freaking out about spending the weekend. And there was this… who was going to take care of the poor cat? Maybe Mrs. Blumberg would.

“Open the glove compartment,” Ari ordered, shaking me out of my mental madness.

I pulled it down. Inside, along with a Bentley Continental GTC manual, was a white visor and a pair of black Ray-Bans.

“Those are for you. You’ll need them.”

I slipped them on. Ari shot me that dazzling, dimpled smile.

As we zoomed uptown, the wind whipping against my face, I began to relax and look forward to my adventure. My guilt and angst succumbed to the joy of being with him. It felt good. So good. At least for now.

We were no longer going to be strangers on a train…

END OF PART 1

Sarah and Ari’s story continues in the steamy and shocking sequel.

SEDUCED BY THE PARK AVENUE BILLIONAIRE

Part 2: Derailed

Available now

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