Page 9 of The Desire

“Okay, Elouise, you’ve got this. Time to pretend to be rich.” The woman in the mirror looks tired, but she will have to do. I don’t like to keep Wallace waiting.

The ride into the city isn’t too bad tonight, not as much traffic as I was expecting. Pulling up at Nic and Tori’s apartment complex, I can see them waiting at the front door. Tori is on Nic’s arm as they make their way to the car, looking like the perfect power couple. I wonder if that’s what I would look like on Remington’s arm.

Shaking my head, I need to stop this. He is way out of your league, so get over it and move on.

Friend zone, that’s where we both sit and will stay going forward. The same place I have been trying to convince Flynn he needs to be too.

Christ, what is it with these men? The one who is chasing me I don’t want, and the one I want is not interested in any way. Maybe I should go for quiet, stable Forrest. The one I have no connection with at all. Wouldn’t that put a cat among the pigeons.

Wallace opens my door, and Nic helps Tori slide in beside me.

“Evening, Lou.” His deep timbre echoes in the car, but his eyes never leave Tori as he makes sure she is in and seated safely.

“Hi, babe, I love that dress. Looking hot, as per usual.” Tori smooths her gun-metal-gray satin dress on her lap so it’s not creasing and then leans over and air-kisses me on the cheek.

“You look stunning too,” I say, smiling at her. She is still my real Tori under all the glamor, I remind myself, seeing her fidgeting with the dress. We both grew up in jeans and the occasional skirt and dress. Now our lives are full of ballgowns and high heels. One day maybe we will get used to it, but right now, we are newbies at all this.

“What about me?” Nic’s chuckle comes from the front seat. “It’s always about the women.”

“Oh, sorry, yes, very handsome, Nic. Because it’s not strange that I am admiring how my best friend’s fiancée looks. You weirdo.” I love the relationship that has grown between me and Nic. I don’t need another pseudo brother, Lord knows I have enough of my own, but he is a guy friend that is nice to have. He is as protective of me as he is of Tori, telling me when they got together that he knew how important I am to Tori, so that makes me important to him too. Such a big softie underneath the big gruff exterior.

He needs to be a special kind of man to cope with the firecracker that is Tori some days.

We fall into conversation about our days and what the weekend plans are, and before I know it, we have pulled up to the curb outside an old English two-story home. It’s funny, I would have pictured Rem living in some super-modern apartment. But instead, it looks like a piece of history, albeit a very expensive piece. There is a wrought-iron fence, and looking through it, I can see his work car, a standard black Range Rover that all the boys seem to drive, with the darkest tinted windows. Beside it sits his baby, the black Porsche that he loves. Fast cars go with his daredevil attitude in life.

He really is a contradiction.

Remington loves risk and will seek out the most extreme things around the world to do, yet his job is all about keeping people safe from danger. I swear I should have studied psychology at university instead of teaching. People intrigue me.

Walking the path to the door, like the third wheel next to Tori and Nic, I can feel my stomach doing somersaults. It always happens when I get together with all the guys, but then within five minutes I feel at home. It’s just that initial few moments when I feel like a fraud around them. They have never done anything to make me feel like that, this is all on me. Like I said, humans are complex, and I wish I knew more about how the brain works. Come to think of it, perhaps I don’t need to know what goes on in my head sometimes.

The heavy wooden front door opens and the noise drifting out tells me that everyone else is already here.

“About time. You’re one beer behind,” Rem declares to Nic, standing on the edge of the step.

“Well, some of us work harder than others.” Tori laughs at Nic’s reply and steps inside past Rem. Nic moves to the side so I can follow her.

“Ladies, looking beautiful as always,” Rem says, motioning with his arm for me to enter too.

“Thank you,” is all I can manage to say as we are ushered into what looks like a large sitting room where Forrest and Flynn are already seated. Not surprisingly Flynn’s here with a date who looks all classy and refined, less trashy than his usual girls. Both of the guys stand and kiss Tori first and then me. I’m part of the inner circle, and Flynn’s date doesn’t like it. She looks down her nose at me, like she can see right through me.

Don’t look at me like that, you snotty-nosed bitch. I could take him from you in a second by just saying the word. So, you might think you are better than me, but you are just the consolation prize, baby.

Too busy staring down the society snob, I didn’t hear Rem come up behind me. As he invades my personal bubble, I inhale his rugged scent. It’s like a woodsy aroma and reminds him of being out in the fresh air. For me, the whiff of it overtakes my senses and makes me want to gasp for air, but not in a bad way. The kind of feeling that sets your body on fire, and with him being so near me now, it’s like he is stealing all the oxygen from my lungs.

The moment his hand touches my lower back, and he leans forward to talk quietly in my ear, a full-body shiver is happening and the hairs on my arms stand on end.

“What can I get you to drink? You look like you could use one.” As he steps to my side, I get the up-close view of him in his expensive-looking black suit, white shirt, and black bow tie. The black beard is like a frame for his strong square jaw, neatly trimmed, and the memory of it between my legs has me blushing. His black hair is not as neatly trimmed as his beard, instead a little wilder, and it suits him. I love the rugged look on him, it’s sexy as hell. His deep brown eyes are always full of mischief, and tonight is no different.

“A glass of bubbles for you?” he asks, winking at me, and I just want to run away before I embarrass myself.

“No, something stronger. A margarita or maybe a straight shot of tequila.” I refuse to cower away; I can’t let him have the upper hand all night. Friend zone, remember? “Anything that will make your company more bearable tonight.” I step another foot away to give me some more breathing room.

“What, me? I’m the perfect gentleman.” He fakes a look of shock and then starts to laugh. “Okay, fair call. Margarita coming right up. Tori, the usual gin and tonic?” he calls to her as he walks from me to his drinks cabinet that’s set up in the corner of the room. Very dark wood, but it fits the room’s décor.

This house is not what I would have pictured for Rem, but surprisingly, he fits it perfectly, playing the host with power. It’s something about the way he portrays himself that exudes the dominance a man in his position holds.

I look around the room. The leather couches are black with a gray throw over the back of the one opposite the open fire that is lying dormant during the summer, and a few patterned throw cushions compliment the gray. Behind the couch are the front windows that have thick dark gray curtains that look like they are there to help shield his privacy. But in true Remington style, there are two layers to shut the world out, because from the outside, all you can see in the dark is the plantation shutters that are all closed. They are great to channel the light in during the day but the need for netting and curtains over the top so no one can see in this room is something he would insist on. The floor is a dark wood, almost black, with a dark charcoal patterned rug. The walls are an off-white color so as not to distract the eye from the scattered photos of landscapes that can only be described as breathtaking. The angles are artistic, and whoever the photographer is has real talent.

---