A Perfect Chance (6 page)

I watched Lena carefully as she took a deep breath, held it, and then released it slowly. She did this a couple more times before she handed me my phone and looked at me.

Her eyes were wide, bright, and for the life of me I could not figure out what the hell she was thinking.

Chapter Six

LENA

Heat rose in my chest, rising up my neck and across my cheeks. I had no idea if it was the beginning of a panic attack or from hearing I'd be staying at Mace's house, sleeping there, for a couple of nights at least. Considering my thoughts were relatively clear, I assumed it was the latter, or, at least, hoped it was the latter since the last thing I wanted was to break down.

I'd been doing so well over the last few weeks, with only a few minor attacks. I'd even stopped taking my antidepressants, much to Janie's chagrin. I'd explained to her, even though she was just a friend and not my therapist, that while they'd helped me manage in the past, I'd been slowly weaning myself off them. I’d met with my doctor several months back and told him my plan to wean off, and he was supportive of that as long as I started work on my behaviour therapy again. So I did. But this time, it was on my terms, my own plan, with some friendly help from Janie, even though she tried to set me up with an appointment with her colleague. At my refusal, she'd promised to watch out for me as a friend, making it clear that because of our relationship she couldn't counsel me. I grabbed the opportunity with eagerness, and readily accepted any support she could give me.

Over the years, I'd had many therapy sessions. They'd worked really well at the time and had helped me to get to the point I was currently at. I knew I was stubborn, but after years of therapy and meds, I finally felt as though I was taking control of my actions and my responses to situations. I was far from magically healed, but my desire for complete control trumped all other logic. I would try. That was all I could do at this point. If I failed, then I would go to Plan B: back to the professionals.

Knowing I was headed to Mace's, an unknown place, spiked my adrenaline. There was no time to ease me into it gradually. Instead, I'd need to find an alternative way to deal with my increasingly rapid heartbeat and shortness of breath. I took deep calming mouthfuls of air, aware that Mace had collected our coffees and moved the car. When I heard movement, I finally looked at him.

Concern dipped his brows low. Gone was the usual confidence. Instead, his eyes roamed my face, no doubt looking for some sort of sign as to how I was handling it all.

"Okay," I answered the unspoken question. "I can do this." I nodded. "Right?" My hesitant second-guessing was palpable in the small space.

Mace offered me a small smile, his hands reaching out to clasp mine. Grounded by the contact, specifically
his
contact, I nodded again, this time a small smile lifting my lips. He looked at me while I gathered my thoughts and emotions, held back from interrupting me so I could handle it my way. I still wasn't quite sure how that would be, but a firmer sense of resolve formed in my chest.

"I can do this," I repeated, this time ensuring I didn't tack on any uncertainty.

Raising his hand, he smoothed a stray piece of hair away from my face. When the pad of his thumb caressed my cheek, I closed my eyes at the contact and released a sigh. Grounded. That was what this man did for me. I had no bloody idea what the hell was in his touch, but somehow his skin against mine, hell, any form of contact worked. Every time, without fail, I found myself leaning into the moment, absorbing it, soaking it all in.

When his thumb brushed across my bottom lip, my eyes burst open in surprise. It was different, intimate, the first time he'd instigated any such contact. My stomach flipped and my breath hitched. I fought with the desire to latch on to his thumb and suck it into my mouth.

Before I succumbed, he pulled away. I gulped audibly at the loss and offered a tentative smile when I soaked up his wide-eyed surprise.

Clearing his throat, Mace gave me a firm nod and turned in his seat before pulling out and heading in the direction of my house, which I shared with my brother. It was a damn long, painful drive for the short ten minutes that it took. I was aware of every slight movement he made and every breath. It wasn't lost on me that his gaze was hard, his stare stoic as he refused to even glance in my direction. I just wondered how the hell I was going to survive my time alone with Mace. The thought left me grinning internally. Maybe if I was so focused on Mace, it would be enough for me to deal with the unexpected situation I'd found myself in.

Only time could tell.

#####

I stared at myself in the unfamiliar bathroom mirror while brushing my teeth. Rather than the pale skin that usually went hand in hand with entering a new space or tackling the unknown, my cheeks were pink, and my eyes were bright. I spat my toothpaste out and grinned. I was so fucking proud of myself. Like seriously damn proud.

After collecting some of my things to take to Mace's, he then spoke to me the entire journey to his place. He'd handed me his phone before we'd set off from mine and given me permission to scroll through his photographs. Confused, I did as he asked. Immediately I'd gasped and looked at him in awe. His jaw had been ticking and he’d had a hard grip on the steering wheel. When he didn't look my way, I’d refocussed on the images before me. They were of his house. It seemed every room was there, from different angles. He'd done this for me. "How?" I was at a loss for words.

Over the few years that I'd known him, Mace had remained pretty much elusive. Most saw the hard and distant version of Mace; that wasn’t lost on me, but I saw so much more, and it was gestures like this that blew my mind.

His voice was low and deep when he spoke. "I wanted to be prepared. I took them as soon as the decision was made for you to work for me." Still, he didn't look my way when my focus once more flicked to him.

"Thank you," I whispered, catching myself before my voice broke with gratitude.

Once more, he'd offered an abrupt nod, eyes still fixed on the road ahead. After a minute of quiet while I'd looked through the images, he'd continued to speak, talking me through the journey and his home, his routines.

Drying off my mouth before I headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, I realised that gratitude didn't even scratch the surface. Mace had constantly gone above and beyond what anyone should do for a friend, let alone an employee. I had no idea what that meant exactly. I thought back to when I'd ordered our drinks. There had been a moment there when I'd thought for sure he was going to kiss the crap out of me. The thought thrilled me as much as it scared me.

The reality was, I hadn't kissed a guy since uni, and while I was speeding towards the need to throw myself at Mace and ask him to take me hard, screw the consequences, a part of me dreaded that with the contact, I may be thrown into memories I'd sooner forget.

I shook off the direction of my thoughts, unwilling to become melancholy when things were finally looking up. I glanced down at my chest and made sure my PJ top was straight and concealed everything it should. The material was dark but thin, though high enough that it covered my cleavage. I inhaled deeply before stepping out of the bathroom and switching off the light behind me. The sooner I got to bed and away from the temptation of Mace, the better.

That didn't seem to be as easy as I'd envisioned. Mace stood in the kitchen, beer in hand, leaning against the counter. He wore a tee that showed his bunched muscles and his ink. I found it impossible to pull my eyes away from his skin immediately. My gaze drifted down to his jean-clad legs and landed on his bare feet. Shit, his feet were sexy framed by denim, as well as big. A small movement as he shifted brought my eyes abruptly to his. I needed to get a hold of myself, and eye-fucking Mace wasn't exactly conducive to keeping my distance.

I offered a small smile, hoping the heat flushing my cheeks was my imagination and that my embarrassment wasn't on full display for him to see. Our eyes connected for a moment before his roamed over my body. My traitorous nipples hardened under his scrutiny, and I had no doubt whatsoever that they stood proudly and on display for his inspection. Forcing my feet to work, I headed to the sink, just to the right of where he stood. I picked up the glass that sat on the drainer and filled it with water. I sipped some immediately, using it as a distraction as well as adding moisture to my dry mouth.

I cleared my throat quietly. "I'm ready for bed." I then looked at him and watched as he turned his head and gazed down at me.

"Okay." His eyes were dark and intense. I turned and faced him, waiting for his support. Immediately, he reached out and took my free hand in his and brought it between us. I closed my eyes at the contact, a flicker of relief registering and spreading through me. Tightening his hand around mine a fraction, he spoke. "Come on then, Lena." My eyes sprang open, a smile already on my lips as I gazed up at him.

I nodded and allowed him to lead me to what would be my room. It was opposite his. Once inside, Mace released my hand and hovered in the doorway. He seemed momentarily uncertain. It didn't last long though before his mask reappeared.

"You good?"

I looked around the room again. "Yes, thanks." I wasn't quite sure if my response was a lie or not. On one hand, I felt surprisingly at ease, but once he left, I had no idea how I'd react.

"Okay." Mace offered me a smile and pulled the door to as he retreated.

"Mace!" I called. The door opened. "Can you leave it open, please?"

"Sure thing." He ensured the door was fully open before moving to his own bedroom door. With his hand on the handle and me hovering near my bed, he turned to look at me. "'Night, Lena."

He stepped inside and went to close his door. My heart constricted. "Mace!" I called, my voice pitched high and seeming crazy loud in the quiet house. His head popped back around the door, a frown marring his handsome features. "Erm, do you mind…?" I eyed his door, mortified at my request and unable to voice my words fully.

"No problem." He pushed his door wide open and retreated in his room.

I quickly slid under the sheets and couldn't help but lift my head off the pillow and peek. Through my open doorway, I watched Mace, his back to me, remove his T-shirt. His thick muscles bunched at the movement, rippling under coloured ink. I was too far away to see the intricate detail, but from this distance, I saw a large dragon wrapped around a stunning woman. It was beautiful. My eyes continued to roam down his back, and I realised the ink went lower, disappearing below the jeans that clung to his arse like a second skin.

He stepped out of sight for a moment before returning, this time sans jeans and just wearing black boxer briefs. I all but swallowed my tongue as I took my fill and quickly slammed my head back on my pillow before he caught me. It was going to be a hell of a few days if this was my reaction every time I saw a sliver of skin. As I drifted to sleep, a mantra of “bad idea” ran in a loop through my mind.

I sit at the table by myself, the hustle and bustle of the busy café rushing around me. After agreeing to meet Malcolm and Julie at their favourite coffee haunt in the city for our cramming session, I’m relieved I've arrived early and snagged a table. I rarely hit this part of the city; it's too far from campus to be convenient, but as it’s close to Julie's apartment, I agreed.

Two men walk in. Usually, I wouldn't even notice, but I raise my brows at their heavy clothing. While Melbourne is known for its four seasons in a day, a coat in the middle of March, especially when it's at least twenty-nine degrees Celsius outside, seems overzealous. As the two guys head towards the counter, one makes eye contact with me and smiles. He's cute, so I offer a tentative smile in return before turning my gaze back to my phone.

Then all hell breaks loose.

I clamp my hand over my mouth, holding back my scream. If I scream, I'm dead. I can't pull my eyes away from the young boy sprawled on the ground, not five metres away from where I'm cowering. He's not moving, and his eyes are open. The scream threatens again, but I can hear movement and know if I make a noise, I'll be found.

From the depths of my stomach, I find the courage to peep around the table that's on its side. I know there's a restroom next to me. I have to make it there. Get away from the chaos. Seeing my opportunity as the two armed men walk to the other side of the room, I take my chance. It has to be now. I duck inside the room, and open a stall door, locking it behind me and clambering onto the seat. I perch on top, my trembling fist in my mouth to ease my sobs.

Loud shots echo around the room outside, making me jump, but it’s the screams that stab through me. All I can do is wait and hope I'm safe. Wait and hope I'm rescued.

I have no idea how long I've been hiding. Amidst the horror in the café, I dropped my phone. Burying my head against my knees, I try to steady my breathing. It's working until the creaking of the door alerts me that I'm not alone.

I hold my breath and press both hands against my closed mouth. Wide-eyed, I stare at the door and jump when the stall door beside me slams open. Heart stuttering, palms sweating, I know I'm not getting out of here.

Thud.
My locked door shakes at the contact, and I can't suppress the sob from breaking free.

"Pretty girl, is that you?"

Tears flow down my cheeks as I hold on to my legs and remain as still as possible.

"You sure have a pretty smile. Want to let me in?"

Oh, God!
The door bangs again, this time harder, louder. Again, and I watch in horror as a screw dislodges. My heart is about to burst out of my ribcage, but I can't move. I gasp for breath, not realising I've been holding it. I should be escaping, looking for a way out, but my limbs are frozen, unwilling to move.