Page 8 of Allured
I would laugh with him but that knot in my stomach comes back full—force with how he addressed me.Sir. Many people have addressed me in such a manner, I should be accustomed to hearing it, but why did it sound soalluringcoming from him?
“Ezekiel Adler, just Ezekiel is fine.” The words leave in a rush, as I speed things along to hopefully help me forget that jolt ofsomethingI experienced seconds ago.
“Well, Just Ezekiel. I’m Aleksander, but I go by Alek, he replies, sets the list down and continues, “your list is all takencare of, man.” He slides the list toward the opposite side of the prep station where I’m currently clutching the counter for my life.
“You gonna keep me company while I finish up?” Alek asks, twirling the marker between his fingers in a quick show of skill. In the fifteen or so minutes I’ve been in his presence, the man has yet to stay still for more than a moment or two. “I could use the company.”
Did I hear hope in his words? Does hewantme to stay?
“Ezekiel!” I jump at the sound of Knight’s booming voice. A voice belonging to a man I would like to push into his stupid pond for interrupting whatever this is between Alek and I.
Unsure of what I’ve discovered, how I am feeling, or where my thoughts are going, I know one thing for certain.This can’t be the last I see of this man.
“I have an upcoming event.” Blurting out the words, I catch Alek’s stare once more. Knight yells for me once more. Now I know Alek certainly heard Knight and knows I need to leave soon. The man’s voice is hard to miss, after all.
“It seems I’m needed elsewhere…” I comment, knowing there are still things to prepare for the impromptu gala. Would it truly be so terrible if I was to stay in the kitchen during an event I don’t even want to attend? The temptation is all—encompassing.
“Wait. Your event?” Alek asks and if I’m not mistaken, I perceive some trepidation from him as well. His body shakes from where he is bouncing his leg. I’m sure he’s anticipating my next actions as much as I am dreading leaving him.
“Would you happen to have a card or some way to contact you for catering services?” This is my attempt attrying to keep everything at a somewhat professional level with the practical stranger whose eyes I’ve been staring deeply into for a quarter hour.
Perhaps I can even catch him after the gala and we can…oh, who am I kidding?I’m in no position to be flirting and admiring Alek, but being the strong—headed bastard I am, I also can’t allow for whatever I’m feeling to simply vanish.
“Nah, I don’t.” Alek’s voice sounds resigned but his face tells a different story. A slow, easy grin plays on his lips as he twirls the marker from behind his ear and wraps his thumb and forefinger around my wrist to drag me toward him.
“What are—” The question dies in my throat. He’s uncapping the marker with a pinch of his lips, the cap balanced between his teeth while he writes his number onto my upper forearm.
The numerals might as well be gibberish to me right now. I’m fixated on the plush of his mouth around the marker cap. Never in my life would I have thought I would be jealous of a marker.
“Text anytime, Ez.” My thoughts are interrupted by his sultry tone and the even sultrier wink he gifts me before getting back to work. How Alek manages to keep his composure while I am a melting mess of a man, I do not know.
“Of course, Alek.” I manage to say. It feels like I have to drag my body away from his gravitational pull when it wants nothing more than to stay within his orbit.
A louder shout of my name kicks my departure into gear.Right, I need to leave. I turn around and haul my unwilling body out of the kitchen. And away from the man who has stolen my breath away, quite literally.
Once I am in the main hallway I peer down at my arm, and without hesitation, I memorize his phone number. The numbers scribed in pigmented black ink are signed off with a winking smiling face. I purse my lips to contain a smile and shake my head at the ridiculousness of it.
I fear Alek has branded me with more than just ink.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ALEK
Is it worth it? Let me work it.
It’s only Thursday and my ass is sore. Besides the several bachelorette party performances and rehearsals for our new shows, I’ve also been keeping up gym sessions with my brother and the guys this past week. I’m exhausted.
Thirty—four years old and I feel like I need one of those chair lifts for these damn stairs leading up to the stage.
With Thomas out for his residency, it’s been a busy time at the burlesque club. I’m not really complaining though. This all comes with the territory of being a lead dancer. And if I’m being honest, I need the distraction.
I can’t stop thinking abouthim.
“Fuck!” I scream.
Skidding to a stop, I hang on for dear life to one of the rails on the wall leading up to the main stage. My dumbass nearly tripped up the damn stairsagain. I’m a former gymnast and a six—inch step almost took me out. Remembering how to walk is apparently second in line to thinking about Ezekiel. The man Imet last Saturday with a shy smile and wide, sapphire eyes that have etched themselves into my brain.
The same man who hasn’t texted or called.
