Page 18 of Love Starves

Puffing out a lungful of smoke with a short chuckle at the thought, I can’t help but wonder how she’d take the news and if any of us would be left standing when Hurricane Blythe is done ripping us all to shreds. Which may be bad in more ways than one. Unease skirts across my stomach thinking about how badly Crue could’ve fucked us this time.

I only get another twenty minutes or so to stew in homebrewed misery before the door to the house opens and Blythe bolts like she just got caught stealing something. I’d laugh if I wasn’t torn between sticking to what I came here for and hopping out to chase her down to make sure she’s alright.

Probably for the best, I don’t get to decide anyway. She only sits idle for a few minutes before cranking up and pulling away from the curb. I’d feel like a total creep if this wasn’t an order from Giovanni to make sure she isn’t getting into trouble with the guy that Crue’s been calling a douche for the past couple weeks. We ride for a good while before the neighborhood starts to look familiar in a way that eases some of the tension riding my shoulders.

Then she turns into an even more familiar parking garage, and I smirk. Should’ve known Nick would be the one to hear from her first. Unless he reached out because he’s been eaten with guilt over the shit that went down. Can’t lie and say I’m not surprised she actually accepted, but it’s clear she did as I pass the security checkpoint and follow her just far enough to watch her park in a reserved space for Nick’s apartment.

When he comes out and they stand feet apart while he obviously apologizes, I chuckle and shake my head. Wouldn’t want to be in his shoes right now. Not until I see those beautiful long legs stride over to him before looping her arm through his. As they head off toward the elevator, I smile again and pull back out of the parking spot where I’ve been in cover.

“Take care of her, brother,” I tell him, knowing it’s unnecessary because he’ll be doing just that.

Blythe

I couldn’t have possibly pulled away from that meeting faster even if the devil was on my rear end. Feelings are running rampant all over the place tonight. The only thing that sounds worth doing is texting Elliot. On one hand, yes I’m super pissed at all of them for breaking rules and blurring the lines, but maybe not as much as I am at myself. I could’ve put a stop to it at any point. Now look at the predicament we find ourselves in. I hate myself for actually fucking caring either way. It’s one vicious, fucked-up cycle. Then, on the other hand, none of this or these feelings are truly Elliot’s fault, so why should he be punished with the rest of us?

At least that’s the reasoning I’m going with as I pull into the empty parking lot and take my phone out to text him. Low and behold, there’s already a message waiting for me. However, it’s not Elliot.

Nick, one of the very last people I expect to be hearing from right now, texted an address five minutes ago. Nothing other than an address. Nohaven’t heard from you in a whileorhow’s it going. No apology for being a snitch or siccing Crue on me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I suck in a harsh breath of air. For all the back and forth and not knowing what I want right now, there’s one thing Iamcertain of and that’s the fact that I fully intend to follow the fucking breadcrumbs. Now, whether that trail is going to lead me right off a cliff or into the oven of an old witch is to be seen. But after the rollercoaster of emotions over the past two weeks and then the cherry on top of that sundae tonight, I need some kind of relief before I drivemyselfoff that cliff.

Swinging my Mercedes back out onto the road, it only takes about twenty minutes to get to the address. For someone who’s in the know of practically everything this city has to offer, color me surprised to be pulling into the parking garage of a rather swanky building. After passing through a guard shack where I have to show my ID and am given a specific number to park in, there’s a progressively low decline into an underground garage. Finding my spot would’ve been easy enough without it being numbered since I spot Nick immediately as I come around a corner. There’s a lot of negative shit I can spout about these guys but being unattractive isn’t one of them. I all but break my neck and wreck my car as I check him out while trying not to make it obvious all while parking. Apparently, walking and chewing gum at the same time while they’re around is a no-no for this girl.

Stepping out to get the up close and personal view doesn’t help either. The man looks like he raided Giovanni’s closet of the most expensive suit and had it tailored, or painted rather, to fit him perfectly snug in all the right places. His shoulder-length dark-brown hair looks professionally cut in layers that seem to caress the tanned skin of his cheeks as he takes small steps toward where I stand. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he just stepped off a plane from Italy, ready for his photoshoot. Fuck a GQ model. I’ll take this one any day of the week.

Remembering at the last second that I’m supposed to still be angry with him, I fold my arms across my chest and slam my lips together to keep from begging him to fuck me right here in this grungy garage.

He swallows hard before he starts, “I want to start off by apologizing. The other day was one hundred percent my fault. I acted without thinking of how crazy Crue can be sometimes. Never in a million years did I want to embarrass you like that.”

“It was childish,” I retort, not letting him right off the hook though I know it’s where this is headed. “He’s a fucking psycho and had no right interrupting my date like he did. Something everyone seems to be forgetting is that we set these rules for a reason.”

Blood rushes to his cheeks turning them a soft pink beneath his natural tan when I mention it being a date, but his voice says he’s as understanding as I’ve grown to know him to be. “May I ask what reason that might be?”

“Sure,” I answer quickly. “You could ask, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you.”

“Fair enough,” he replies, running a hand through those ridiculously soft-looking chocolate waves on top of his head. Fascinatingly enough, every single strand falls back into its place, seemingly having not been touched at all.

Licking his lips nervously, something I’ve never seen him do before, he starts again, “Giovanni wanted me to mention that sleeping with Ryan isn’t an option if we’re sticking to rules.”

Fury clouds my judgment and with heat meant for Giovanni, I snap at Nick, “You think I don’t know that? What are you his fucking message boy now?”

His gaze drops to the pavement as he shifts on his feet. If there were any of them I’d be a straight-up bitch to, I wouldn’t have ever said it’d be Nick. He and Deklyn are the sweetest by a longshot, but there’s only so much a girl can take. Which makes sense why we live in a monogamous world. Like seriously, having to put up with more than one man’s testosterone is enough to drive any woman murderously insane.

Not so easily offended or deterred, obviously, he smiles softly. “I have something nice prepared for us upstairs as an apology for my part in what went down the other day. It’s your choice, as it always is, if you join me or not. It’s not a date or breaking any of the rules. Just two friends…acquaintances, having dinner together because one of them has to make up for being an asshole.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to decline out of pure payback, but luckily, I was raised with better etiquette. However, it still doesn’t stop me from chastising him just a bit. “If you’d have warned me it was dinner, I would’ve stopped and bought the proper attire for the evening.”

Slumming it isn’t exactly in my wardrobe vocabulary, so I’m not terribly underdressed in a Chanel silk shirtdress and matching pair of ankle boots. Well, that actually depends on whose judgment that’s based off of. The Clemontes would have an aneurism knowing their daughter showed up to a fancy enough place to have its own underground parking security in anything less than a flashy cocktail dress. It’s all about attention and who might be watching.

Nick’s smile lifts his cheeks and shows off pearly white teeth. “You’re beautiful and what you’re wearing is perfect.”

Were it any of the others, I’d accused them of laying their flattery on thick with that comment, but it’s Nick. Which is exactly the reason I choose to make my way over to him and slide my hand into his offered elbow. Fighting the urge to ask what this place is, I let him lead us into the elevator in the corner. Using his free hand, he scans a card, causing a little red light to flash green and opens the doors. Smoothing the surprise off my face by lowering my brows as to not speed up aging wrinkles on my forehead, I step into the small box that could rival a Four Seasons. The shock doesn’t come from having never been in one. Moreso that any of the men that work for Giovanni have access to a place like this. Nick presses one of the higher buttons and rescans his card with another green beeping flash before the doors close. Mirrors line the walls around us, and a plush bench is built into the entire backside. Intentionally, it’s for the comfort of guests, but I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to fuck in here. Weeks ago, I’d have shoved Nick onto the seat, straddled and rode him all the way up to our floor. Things feel different now, though. There’s a tension between us that didn’t used to be there, and I’m almost one hundred percent sure that it’s radiating off me. An apology dinner he’d said, so let’s hope we can both stick to that resolve.

He never said anything about after dinner, a sneaky voice inside my head whispers, ratcheting that tension a little higher. I can’t remember the last time I had the floaty feeling in my chest thinking about sex, yet there it is. Or maybe it’s the elevator coming to a stop. Yep, that’s definitely what I’m blaming it on. I hadn’t considered any of the others being here with us tonight until the doors open, and my breath catches in my throat with anticipation. I’m not sure if I’m ready to deal with more than Nick at the moment. A few steps into the room proves my worry to be pointless since it’s obvious we’re the only ones here.

On the ride up when I wasn’t fantasizing about jumping Nick, I’d toyed with a few ideas of what this place was. A members only restaurant. An elite private hotel. Hell, even a gentleman’s club. The last thing I’m expecting is an apartment. Not just any old space filled to the brim with old junk either. There’s a state-of-the-art chrome-laden kitchen to the right as soon as you walk through the door, complete with a bar island that divides the room in half. On the other side of the island is a modern metal and glass dining table set that’s big enough to seat eight and a matching chandelier hanging above it. I have to admit, I can’t wait to see if it sparkles the way it appears it might when lit. To the left a massive den commands the open space. There’s a closed doorway on the right side of the dining room which likely leads into the master suite. Everything is sparsely decorated with bare minimums. The whole vibe of the place is even more appealing due to the fact that it’s outside wall from one side of the apartment to the other is nothing but windows. Nick hasn’t turned on the lights yet, and it wouldn’t be necessary under certain circumstances considering the bright lights of the city aren’t muted in any way and shine like stars, illuminating the space.

My hardass exterior drops as my heeled boots clack on the floor making my way over to the windows that border the table. I’ve been many places, including this very city, but I’ve always been too busy to stop and take it all in. Tonight is different. I love the way the streetlights dot the roads and how the buildings surrounding this one have several of their own windows lit, giving off the knowledge to others that they aren’t alone in the world.

“This is incredible, Nick,” I marvel quietly, my voice sounding loud in the empty silence.

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