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“Here,” he said gently. “Sometimes it’s finicky.”
Before I had the chance to think, Jesse leaned over the center console and reached across my body, expertly tugging the seatbelt free.
He was close.Reallyclose. So close I couldn’t help but stare at his lips and drown in the warmth that radiated off his body. I easily and willingly fell into his orbit, lacking the strength and willpower to pull myself away.
My face burned with the fire of a thousand suns when the softest of sighs bubbled past my lips. Jesse looked me in the eye. He definitely heard it. I tried to play the whole thing off with a dramatic stretch and yawn, taking the now free seat belt from him to buckle up.
“Goodness,” I said way too loudly, “would you look at the time?”
Jesse glanced at the time on the Porsche’s bright display screen. It was only 10:00 p.m.
“Let’s get you home, then,” he said without the faintest hint of judgement.
I was thankful he kept his eyes on the road the entire time, because I didn’t know what I’d do if he realized just how red in the face I was.
* * *
I lived on the second floor of a small apartment complex on the corner of Western and Fifth. It was crammed between a massive skyscraper and a twenty-four-hour sub shop, the latter of which was a lifesaver when those late-night study session cravings hit. It wasn’t exactly living in the lap of luxury, but it was comfortable enough.
After years of moving from house to house —family to family— this tiny, one-bedroom apartment was the first place I’d ever considered home. My scholarships could only cover so much, and housing subsidies only got me so far, but I was smart enough to start saving the second I was old enough to get a part-time job in high school. I had enough saved that by the time I signed my first lease, I could afford to decorate it from head to toe in whatever I could find and flip at the local consignment store.
The couch was lumpy. The accent rug in the living room was fraying at the ends. The dining table and matching chairs in the kitchen were covered in all sorts of scratches and dings. And the TV I found half off at a nearby pawn shop only had seven channels, all of which were grainy.
It wasn’t much, but it was stillmine.
Jesse pulled the car up to the curb. I fully expected him to say good night and peel off into the distance, but he parked and got out with me. He looked very out of place here with his high-end sports car and bespoke suit.
I finally had a good look at him. Things were so chaotic at the bar that I barely had time to register him and his sudden presence. One second I was fending off unwanted advances, and the next I found myself totally safe.
He towered over me like a mountain, every inch of him chiseled and refined. I didn’t know what a man like Jesse would be doing at a bar like the Snapdragon. He would have looked much more at home at the Four Seasons or the Ritz.
That was the vibe I got from him, anyways. He liked the finer things in life. Hundred-thousand-dollar luxury car. Rolex watches that could pay my rent five times over. An air of power and control that followed him wherever he went.
It was hard to believe that he and Wally were related. They couldn’t be more different. The first and most notable difference was that, unlike Wally, Jesse walked me straight to my door. Wally wasn’t a jerk or anything, it was just a super archaic thing to do in this day and age. Gentlemen and the like were rarer than diamonds.
Jesse looked around as we strode down the hall together. My apartment was at the very end. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell by the slight curl of his nose that he didn’t approve of the place.
“Safe neighborhood?” he asked.
I nodded. “As safe as it can get in Chicago.” EvenIknew that wasn’t saying much. I unlocked the door quickly and looked up at him with a smile. “Well, this is me.”
Jesse scrutinized the lock. “That doesn’t look very sturdy.”
“It’s not, but I’ve got one of these.” I reached into my handy messenger bag and pulled my portable lock out to show him. “Pretty nifty, right? Bought it off Amazon years ago.” He didn’t look convinced, but I pressed on. “Besides, my neighbors are all really nice. Except for that guy on the ground floor next to the boiler room. Pretty sure he’s a drug dealer, but he’s relatively harmless.”
Jesse frowned. “A drug dealer who’s harmless. Talk about an oxymoron.”
I laughed. “I was joking.”
“About a drug dealer living in your building or being harmless?”
“Which one sounds worse?”
“They both sound equally bad. You should report him.”
“Charlie’s not that bad. He helped me move some boxes when I moved in.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, that makes up for his morally questionable profession.”
