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“You’re seriously not coming.” She says in disbelief, her eyes wide and her hands on her hips, telling me I had better come up with an excuse, and fast.
“I don’t feel so good.” I groan and hold my hand to my temple and say with a gasp. “It’s my head. It won’t stop banging.”
“Cut the crap, Ally. You’ve been hiding out here for close on two weeks now and you’ve missed some seriously amazing night outs. I mean, the guys have been insane just lately and as for that new club in town, Gyration, well, it’s out of this fucking world.”
“I told you…”
She cuts me off. “And I’m telling you, grab a kick ass outfit and draw your battle face on. We are going to celebrate your birthday tonight, whether you like it or not.”
Cecilia is a fierce woman most of the time and she will not make saying no easy and yet I must. I can’t go out there. It’s too dangerous. I can’t go anywhere, not after what happened two weeks ago.
I am still having night terrors because of it. Fearful of going out and being arrested for murder. That man was killed in cold blood and yet there was nothing on the news. I should know, I’ve searched every news channel going, even foreign ones and there is no report of a shooting in Cross alley at all. It’s as if it was a figment of my own twisted nightmares and yet it happened as plain as Cecilia is glaring at me now.
What surprised me even more was I was dropped here. My rescuer didn’t say one more word to me and just pulled up outside my apartment block and as soon as the door opened, I scrambled to my safety. It was the strangest experience of my life, and I couldn’t get out of there quickly enough.
It’s why I can’t go out. Why I’ve ordered take out ever since and postponed my internship at The Queen. The PR consultants on fifth avenue.
Luckily, they were fine about it. They had two openings and one started later than mine, which was a good thing because I’m unsure how I would explain to my parents about my sudden change of heart.
Sighing inside, I realize my life is a fucking mess and all because of Rafferty, who hasn’t even bothered to check on me outside of a quick phone call asking if everything went well.
If you count murder going peachy fine, then yes, it was a successful night. The trouble is, I have a feeling that night was the beginning of something, which is why I’m hiding away like Count Dracula, fearful of daylight.
“I’m waiting.” She taps her foot angrily on the wooden floor and, realizing I am beaten, I huff, “Fine, but don’t blame me if I leave after one hour. I’ve got my new job starting on Monday and I need my beauty sleep.”
“You may as well be dead from the amount of sleep you’ve had lately.” She grumbles as she reaches for the open bottle of wine and fills her glass for the third time.
“You have twenty minutes.”
I say nothing and head into my room, realizing I have no choice. Cecilia Murray is a formidable adversary. My best friend since high school and my partner in crime. We were inseparable until she took up a position in a law firm as an intern. She wants to be an attorney and is learning from the bottom up. I set my sights on marketing and promotion and finally landed the position of my dreams here in New York. What happened that night almost derailed it, but the fighter in me stood her ground. Now I must push aside what happened and move forward with the rest of my life before anyone starts asking awkward questions.
I drag on a dress that really doesn’t deserve its name. It’s figure hugging and sparkles as it catches the light. The green in the fabric matches my eyes, and I’m not even sure it’s a good choice. I should wear pants and a top that covers me entirely because I never want a man to look at me again — ever. The thought of what could have happened in that alley is still torturing me and yet the man who rescued me has me thinking different thoughts entirely.
He has since starred in every fantasy I have ever had. I wake in the knowledge I let him do despicable things to my body in my dreams, and then I scrub the image from my mind in the shower.
He has infiltrated my mind because I have never met a man like him. So dangerous, sexy as hell, and a bad boy of the most devastating kind. Those rugged looks and his husky voice make me shiver with desire, telling me why I’m best locked up away from the world before I lose my sanity entirely.
I tell myself I’m pulling on this dress because it’s my birthday and I want to look nice. I’m fooling myself if I think it’s for any other reason than with him in mind. Part of me hopes I’ll meet him again and the better half of me wishes the opposite. If I never see him again, it would be an extremely good thing, but the despair I have at that tells me I’m fucked.
As I brush my hair, it falls down my back, a brown curtain that shines as the light catches it. I was always proud of my chestnut hair. My brother said it reminded him of a conker, which is why he calls me that.
I hate it.
Who wants to resemble a nut anyway, and it’s hardly cute? I told him that angrily once, and he shrugged and said that if I preferred, he could call me Beaver. I swear to God, I nearly murdered him myself and Beaver was dropped but conker remained, which is why I try not to go out in public with him. The fact he’s just signed as the newest quarterback with the Jets makes for an evening spent watching him hit on by every female in the vicinity, which doesn’t really rock my world. He may be drop dead gorgeous, but he’s still my yucky brother and yet I would do anything for him. Ihavedone everything for him and look where that got me.
“Time’s up.”
Cecilia stands in the doorway and whistles. “Man, you are hot tonight. That’s my girl.”
I turn and smile bravely. “I’ve got to try to keep up with you.”
I smile because Cecilia is probably the most attractive girl I have ever met. Her beautiful brown skin glows with health and her deep brown eyes are framed by the longest lashes. She is going through her Beyonce era right now and her hair is golden and styled in waves, like the queen herself. Her figure is the envy of every model out there and she is so wasted hidden behind a desk in Washington when she should be gracing the catwalk and earning zillions as a super model.
“That’s more like it.”
She grins, revealing the most enviable set of white teeth that would make any dentist proud. “Let’s go and celebrate your birthday and introduce that new club to the queens of clubs.”
As we head outside, I fight back a moments panic as the night air reaches out and pulls me in, reminding me of the last time I ventured out.
