THE WAITRESS DROPS off a rocks glass with my favorite whiskey—much-needed after the day I’ve had. We have a new contract which is pulling Bella’s dad out of state for two months, at the very least, and he’s asked if I could keep an eye on his kids until his return.
I take a long sip, feeling the warmth of the amber liquid as it travels down my throat. If he only knew what he was really asking. I can barely keep my hands off Isabella as it is. Inviting further opportunity to be around her is just a recipe for disaster.
As if my thoughts have conjured the beauty herself, Bella walks into the restaurant looking like a vision in gray. Her dress hugs her in all the right places, and I could easily see myself ripping that dress off after a night of dinner and dancing. Hell, forget the dinner and dancing, I can see myself ripping the dress off right the fuck now.
I want to wrap her long black hair around my fist and pull her head back—exposing the elegant column of her neck—allowing me to nip my way down to her collarbone, licking the hollow beneath with a wet stroke of my tongue…
“William.” Bella’s sweet voice pulls me out of my fantasy. I would normally stand to pull out a lady’s chair—manners and all—but doing so now would only serve to expose the throbbing hard-on I’ve got going on under the table.
“Bella. Thanks for agreeing to meet me for dinner. We have an unfinished conversation I would like to get out of the way.” Her face falls and I get the feeling I must have said something wrong.
The waitress approaches the table and I order for us. “We’ll have the tasting menu tonight, with two glasses of my usual.” I motion toward my glass, remembering Bella’s drink of choice is also whiskey.
“Of course, Mr. Hawthorne, I’ll put your order in immediately.” The waitress nods and spins on her heels, heading toward the kitchen.
As soon as the waitress is out of earshot, Bella reaches for my glass and takes a slow sip. “Mmmm, delicious.” She licks her lips and smiles. “You remembered my favorite drink.”
With the amount of money I drop here on a weekly basis, the waitress didn’t bother asking for Isabella’s ID—not that she looks under twenty-one tonight. Jesus. That tight little body has my hand twitching in restraint.
“When did you start drinking, and why whiskey? It’s not exactly a woman’s go-to drink.”
“Well, that’s very sexist of you. And to answer your questions, fifteen after the car accident.” She takes another sip, licking her top lip as she slowly puts the glass back down on the table. “And shortly thereafter, I was introduced to whiskey. I was at a party and the guy behind the bar offered to pop my whiskey cherry. I let him, and we’ve been a thing ever since. The whiskey, not the guy… though he did pop more than one cherry that night.”
I swallow hard and my dick twitches in my pants. The thought of Bella and sex has me reeling as naked visions of her flit across my mind.
All that comes to a quick halt when it hits me how old she must have been during her first time. Rage consumes me and I do my best to temper my emotions. “Who was he? Your first? So help me God, he better have been a minor or I will find him and castrate him where he stands,” I whisper-shout. So much for keeping my cool.
“It’s none of your business who I choose to sleep with, William.” Bella closes her eyes and sighs out a breath of frustration. “But I’ll tell you if you promise to answer one of my questions. Tit for tat.”
“Fine,” I hiss.
“I was sixteen and he was a senior at the public high school. I knew our paths would most likely never cross again and we both knew it was just a one-night stand. Not a big deal. None of them ever are.” She looks off to the side, avoiding my eyes.
“Bella…” I reach over and clasp her delicate hand in mine. The contrast of her slender fingers in the palm of my big calloused hand denoting the stark difference between us. “I’m not even sure how to broach that response. First of all, let me make it clear that I’m not judging nor will I ever. I get that we all cope differently and sometimes we do things we wouldn’t otherwise do to self-medicate our internal struggles… I just want to know one thing, what exactly have you been doing to self-medicate?”
“It’s pretty obvious, no? You’ve seen me drink and attempt to pick up a random man at a bar.” Bella’s face flushes a deep shade of red. “I really don’t think it’s that big of a deal. I have to be so perfect in every other aspect of my life, I deserve to let loose in my private time. Especially if it’s not hurting anyone else.” She takes a long sip of my drink before continuing. “It’s not like I’m getting shitfaced every day, but even if I were and it were during my private time, whose business is it anyway.”
“It’s my business,” I growl out.
“Why?” Bella laughs in disbelief. “I’m not your problem.”
Oh, little moon… but you are.
The waitress interrupts, bringing us an amuse-bouche, effectively cutting off a premature declaration and giving me a minute to gather my thoughts. Thank fuck.
“Well? Why am I your business, William?” Bella cocks an eyebrow, pressing me to answer.
“Because you are my employee and my friend’s daughter. I care about your well-being and want you to resolve whatever internal issues you have in a healthy, safe, and positive manner.” Who the fuck am I? Mr. Rogers?
Bella scoffs at my response, hell, I would have too. “That’s rich. Coming from the biggest playboy of them all. Isn’t your licentious behavior what landed you with Heather in the first place?”
“Yes and I don’t regret it because it led me to my beautiful daughter. Although, my personal scandal should serve as a warning to those who partake in casual sex.” I tug at the collar of my shirt and smirk. “You never know if your no-strings partner is batshit crazy and will haunt you for the rest of your life.”
“So what you’re saying is that instead of going in blindly, I should fully vet my partners and stick to them exclusively? That sounds a lot like a relationship, completely rendering the point of ‘no strings’ useless.”
“It’s not a relationship if both parties have a mutual understanding that it’s only about sex.” Mayday, mayday, I’m going down. This conversation sounds an awful lot like a sexual proposition. A very inappropriate sexual proposition. I need to turn this ship around—fast. “Besides, sex isn’t the only source of stress relief. Taking up hobbies or exercising are two very good examples of healthy outlets.” Though, neither quite as fun.
“I have a hobby and I also workout regularly. Neither of those things should be a preclusion to doing something I love.”
It’s my turn to cock an eyebrow as I nearly choke on my own saliva, lingering on her admission. Naturally my mind hones in on her declaration of loving sex, but there is no way in hell I’m even touching that. Doing so would lead us farther down this bizarre rabbit hole of sexual frustration. Something neither of us is free to explore.
Before I can respond, the waitress sets down our first course and explains the dish, quickly retreating. No doubt she sensed the tense nature of our conversation.
“I didn’t know you had a hobby. Please share.” I wave my hand, motioning her to continue.
“I write children’s books and illustrate them myself. I know… me, of all people, writing children’s books.” Bella laughs self-deprecatingly. “I promise, none of the books teach children how to engage in acts of loose morality. Quite the opposite, in fact. The books revolve around coping with life’s curveballs in a healthy and positive manner. Hypocritical, right?”
I stare at her in wonder. “Isabella, that’s amazing. Who better to teach children how to slay their dragons than someone who’s actually battled her own.” Without realizing it, I’ve reached for her hand and begun to slowly caress her wrist back and forth with my thumb. “Maybe one day you can share those dragons with me. You don’t always have to fight them alone.”
In that moment I see her—the real her—past all the layers of bravado and right down to her very essence. The battered and scarred beauty, who—despite life’s tragedies—has clawed her way to the surface the only way she knew how. Damn, it’s alluring. I’m truly and utterly captivated, blown away by her willingness to be vulnerable, shedding all pretense and showing me her true self.
With a clearing of her throat, the moment is gone. Bella erects her walls once more and does a complete one-eighty on our conversation. “So, are you bringing my aunt here on a date?”
As if I’d just been bitch-slapped, I sit there in silence trying to comprehend what just happened.
“You are dating Mariana, right?” Bella’s wide eyes look at mine for answers.
“I’m not sure what gave you the impression I was dating your aunt. I can assure you I have no intention of doing so.”
“Right. Okay. Good.” Bella lifts her glass, only to find it’s empty.
Just in time, the waitress approaches the table with two fresh glasses and a waiter in tow with the second course.
“Right. Okay. Good,” I repeat Bella’s words, a smirk evident on my face. It’s clear she’s embarrassed by her little display of jealousy. “Enough serious conversation for tonight. Let’s talk about college. Are you looking forward to starting this fall?”
Bella shoots me a grateful smile, gladly avoiding any further discussion of dating, sex, and dragons, keeping the rest of our conversation pretty tame. The way it should have been to begin with.
On our way out, I notice she didn’t valet. “Let me walk you to your car. It’s late and you never know who’s lurking around.”
“Sure. I parked this way.” She motions toward the corner of the parking garage, but as we get closer to her SUV, I sense something’s off.
“Wait here,” I instruct her to stay put as I survey the area and take a closer inspection of her vehicle.
The entire driver’s side of the Tahoe is vandalized—its windows have been smashed in and the side panels have been spray-painted with the word ‘Whore’ across them. Upon further inspection, two of the tires have been shot at and are completely deflated. I’m about to crouch down when I hear a loud gasp behind me.
I turn toward the sound and see Bella’s eyes filling with tears. I rush toward her, instinctively closing the space between us and wrapping her protectively in my arms.
“I told you to stay put. You need to listen to me and do as I say.” My words come out as a harsh growl.
“Who did this?” Isabella’s voice is muffled as she murmurs into my chest.
“I don’t know, but whoever it is, I’m going to find them and make them pay. I promise, little moon.” Stroking her hair, I place a kiss on the top of her head. “We need to call this in and let your father know what’s going on. He’s leaving town and there is no fucking way you’re staying alone with the twins while that lunatic is out there.”
If I was feeling protective before, it’s nothing compared to how I’m feeling now. All of my senses are pulling me toward Bella, urging me to shield her from the outside world. I quickly come up with a plan that will allow me to keep her safe and close, the only problem will be getting her father to go along with it.
