Page 11 of Allure
Delilah let out a small laugh, feeling a little better that she had been able to shift the conversation without letting the earlier tensions build between them. Food had always been one of their talking points, and it made Delilah feel like she was standing back on even ground with her, despite the feeling of her stomach tightening the longer she looked at Brooklyn’s freckles.
Fifteen.
There were fifteen freckles under her eyes.
“That I can do. I’ll make a batch for you guys. Let me go take this call before my friend yells at me for keeping her waiting.” Brooklyn’s eyes lit up as she saluted her before she headed back to the reception desk.
Delilah watched her go, realizing her heartbeat had returned to normal, but with it came the dark cloud that had been following her around. Her shoulders turned inward, and she ran her hand across her throat, silently reminding herself she wasn’t drowning and she could still breathe.
“Get it together,” Delilah whispered as she headed back into her office. She tried to focus on her words—listening to how she sounded—knowing Raven could pick up on anything. She ignored the dark cloud above her and pushed Brooklyn Pasetti out of her mind and the knowledge that Brooklyn’s presence had momentarily chased the darkness away.
Syra looked at the front of the coffee shop, Gregory’s it was called. It wasn’t anything fancy like the high-end cafes in North Ivywood she was used to, and that meant there wasn’t going to be a lot of foot traffic here. Marco suggested this place as a good spot to talk, and she agreed, though she still sat in the cab, unsure if she was ready to face him alone.
The two of them had a habit of combusting when they were in each other’s orbit if their night six months ago was anything to go by. She hadn’t anticipated running into him, and she didn’t intend to go home with anyone. But things between them were never clear cut. It was one of the reasons she wanted to talk about his little sideswipe of a business deal. She wasn’t sure they’d be able to work together. It was almost too easy to fall back into old patterns and with the close proximity, it was too easy to feel the hurt from their past and allow it to make them hate each other—make him resent her.
“Miss?” The cab driver pulled Syra from her thoughts. She’d already paid but hadn’t gotten out yet, choosing the safety of the cab rather than walking into an enclosed space with a man who could unravel her within seconds.
Her phone buzzed, and she looked down to see an incoming email from Marco. She hadn’t given him her number yet, unsure if she wanted to have easier access to him. She couldn’t trust herself to keep from reaching out when her need to walk down memory lane was too strong to ignore.
Do you still drink sugar instead of coffee? Iced Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel and whip, right?
Syra smiled as her heart did a little extra skip at the words written on her screen. Why were little things like this so important? She’d been with Joel since she was nineteen, and he’d never gotten her drink right, among other things. Marco had been with her for less time, and he somehow always knew her better.
She quickly typed out a response even though she was already here.
There’s caffeine in a Caramel Macchiato, you know this, but yes, that’s still my drink of choice.
She hit send and finally made her way out of the cab. She took a breath to steady her nerves. She was just there to talk and see where things stood between them. They could be cordial.
She hoped.
She put her phone in her bag as she stepped on the curb without looking up, and she collided into a solid mass of what felt like a wall. She felt herself panic as her body fell backward, sure she was going to hit the ground hard, but a firm grip on her biceps tugged her forward. She winced from the grip and from being jerked around. She felt like a pinball, bouncing front to back and having no control over her body.
When she finally steadied herself and looked up at what she hit, she saw a man who was taller than her and had broad shoulders. He seemed massive compared to her—her body disappearing behind his, not an easy feat being as tall as she was. He had a scar in his left eyebrow and right under his left eye that made her inwardly flinch. It gave him a mean appearance that kicked her heart rate up; she was sure the organ could be seen pressed against her chest.
Syra audibly swallowed when his lips pulled back into a smile. She felt helpless, and a shiver of fear slid down her spine. He looked at her like someone who had just found his next victim, and she abruptly pulled herself from his hold. She had an insane urge to run and get as far away from him as possible, but something told her he would enjoy the chase. She needed to get away and get into the safety of the coffee shop without making it too obvious that she was scared and running.
She offered a tight smile and whispered apologies as she tried to move past him, but he blocked her path.
“What’s the rush?” he chuckled. “It’s not every day a beautiful woman literally slams into me.” He reached for her again, running the back of his hand down her arm. Even through the long sleeves it felt as though his skin touched her skin, and disgust coated her tongue.
She tried to keep herself still, fearing if she recoiled from his touch he’d get angry and this would turn into a situation she wasn’t equipped to handle. She had no idea why this man was setting off every instinct in her body to get away from him as quickly as possible. He was conventionally good-looking. Had she seen him across the street, maybe she would have given him a once-over, but up close? She could feel the tendril-like claws sinking into her skin, piercing her flesh. It was absurd, really; she knew once she got her heart and breathing under control she’d see how silly she was reacting, but right now she needed to get away.
“I’m sorry about that.” She was surprised her voice didn’t shake with the unease she felt surrounding her. “I should have been paying more attention. Again, I’m sorry, but I have somewhere to be.” She tried to sidestep him again, but he moved with her.
“Can you stay for a little while longer, at least long enough that I can get your name?” His smile widened, turning his handsome features into predatory ones, and this time she took a full step back. If she had to run, she’d run into the traffic, hoping it would be enough to stop him from coming after her.
“Look sir,” she started and let out a sigh when she realized how sharp her tone had gotten. She wasn’t sure if getting in this man’s face was the right move or not. Sometimes it worked, other times it made them more aggressive. “I’m in a rush. I’m running late to meet someone.”
She opted to keep her tone neutral and pushed past him quickly, surprised when he didn’t try and stop her this time. Her body tensed as she turned her back to him. It felt wrong, and she had to fight to keep from glancing over her shoulder, expecting him to reach out and snatch her up or attack her.
She quickened her steps, her long legs working double time to rush into the coffee shop. She practically pushed people out of the way to get inside and away from the door, praying he wouldn’t follow her inside.
The small buzz of Gregory’s seemed to calm her enough that she tried to figure out why she had such a fearful reaction to the stranger. Her heart still pounded like she’d been running even though the danger had seemed to pass, but she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. She rubbed her hand against her arms where he touched her—feeling his presence lingering around her.
What the hell is wrong with you?
Syra’s hand went to her chest, willing her heart to calm down.
