Conviction (A Stand-alone Novel): A Bad Boy Romance (15 page)

I reveled in that pause as our salads arrived. The thought of being someone that Ayden wanted was too delicious to ignore. There were thousands of practical reasons against us, but I allowed myself one whole course to pretend they did not exist.

Darla had been right. Ayden was gorgeous, and the old world charm of the restaurant fit his style. His black hair shone under the chandeliers, and his blue eyes lit up like glowing sapphires in contrast to the dark-toned surroundings. I was glad he had ditched the black tie in the limousine and loosened his black shirt. The unbuttoned collar drew my eye to his square jaw, his wide shoulders, and the taut muscles of his chest.

Celebrities flowed in and out of Avenue as we lingered over our food. I could not tear my eyes away from Ayden long enough to marvel over the blockbuster faces and award-winning artists. His eyes drifted over people with only slight flickers of recognition. Everywhere he looked he was impressed, but not affected, not star struck or envious. Ayden was solid, comfortable in his own skin, and that drew my eyes to him again and again.

The only time I saw him shift in surprise was when a jazz trio began to play. He sat up and turned around in his seat to see the musicians casually stirring up an old favorite on a small dais by the bar. A smile smirked around the edges of his mouth as he turned back to the table and shook his head.

"Not used to musical accompaniments to dinner?" I asked.

He shot me a warning glance with a smile. "Funny thing was it probably would have improved the atmosphere of the cafeteria. A few inmates tried to petition for music. They even read studies on it, but it was shut down."

Ayden picked up his fork and nonchalantly went back to eating, but I knew his tells. Underneath the table his knee jiggled up and down, too slight to be felt, but I saw the linen tablecloth move. And he smiled every time the bass stood out with an impressive run. He was enchanted, but there was no way he'd admit it.

A small crew of servers cleared enough tables to create a tiny dance floor and a few couples spun around it slowly. The jazz was soft and dreamy, a honeyed love song that meandered through improvisations and eventually wound back to the chorus.

"Blue Moon," Ayden said suddenly.

My heart stopped, and I had to pretend to listen while I caught my breath. "Yes, yes I think it is."

Ayden smiled, pleased with himself and the restaurant and the entire atmosphere. It was easy to think we'd slipped into another time. I looked at my dinner companion again and could easily imagine him as a gangster or a smooth player in the Rat Pack entourage.

I surprised us both by blurting out, "We should dance."

He tossed his white linen napkin on the table and stood up in one fluid move. I gulped down one last sip of wine for courage and took his extended hand. Ayden's other tell, tapping his fingertips against his thumb, was in full swing, and I realized he was just as nervous as I was. The thought fused me to him as we circled together and into the dance.

"I love this song," he murmured, his voice low and hypnotic.

It was better than any music I had ever heard.

Chapter Ten

Autumn

Somehow the song shifted into another one and another one without a break. We kept dancing, our bodies drifted closer until my head nestled between his neck and shoulder, and Ayden's arms wrapped possessively around me. Reflections of Avenue's rich atmosphere drifted by as we circled around. Once I caught us in the wall of mirrors, and it seemed like a flash of an old Hollywood movie where the star-crossed lovers are together at last.

I lifted my head and smiled at Ayden. It must have been the champagne and wine letting those thoughts drift through my mind. But the stormy blue of his gaze let me know I was not alone. Whatever I was feeling, Ayden was tangled up in as well.

Just as my head drifted back to his shoulder, I felt a buzzing in his breast pocket. "I think someone's calling you," I said.

"Nah, wrong number."

The buzzing continued and slowly shook us from our trance. "It could be important," I reminded him.

"Unless it’s the board or you calling, I don't care," Ayden mumbled, but he pulled out the phone and checked the caller ID anyway. "Or worse, it’s my parole officer."

I stepped out of his arms and smoothed my hair down. "I'll let the driver know to meet you outside. Don't worry about the check. It’s on the house in Jace's memory."

Ayden hesitated, swaying back and forth, and then he clenched his jaw and answered the phone. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Simone. I need to get somewhere that I can hear you."

I lingered for a moment at our table and finished my glass of wine. My friends wandered by to say good-bye and make plans to get together. After an appropriate amount of time, I left a generous tip and headed outside. The limousine was parked right in front where the entire line contained behind the velvet ropes could gawk at it.

"I wonder if they think you're a movie star," I said to Ayden as I slid inside the limousine.

"Yes, I realize my circumstances and new-found wealth have made my case very interesting for the parole board," Ayden responded.

I blinked in the dim interior and saw that he was still on the phone call with his parole officer. I started to edge back out the door, but Ayden grabbed my wrist and shook his head. I settled back into my seat and checked my email. I could not help but overhear his side of the conversation.

"I know, Simone. No, I did not realize my photos were all over the tabloids. I don't read that crap. Sorry, yes, I know you're just trying to help. I don't want special treatment, and I sure as hell don't expect it. You're right. Under the radar. Yes," Ayden said.

He hung up the phone and tossed it on the far seat of the limousine. We pulled away from the curb, and Ayden dropped his head back on the leather seat with a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were still on the phone," I stammered.

Ayden lifted his head and glared out the window. "She's right, my parole officer. If I want to stay out of prison, then I shouldn't be running all over town getting my photograph in the tabloids. It’s bad enough that I've been given this enormous wealth. I can't blame the board for taking a closer look at me."

"I told the driver to take us back to Jace's?" I ended on a question knowing that Ayden still felt awkward about living in the mansion though he insisted on paying rent to Knight Holdings.

He scowled, "Like we have a curfew or something. Autumn, I'm sorry. You deserve someone who can take you out to dinner and dance with you all night. You should be out on the town with a normal good guy, like a doctor."

"If you don't want to go home, I know a place where the paparazzi can't touch us," I volunteered.

Ayden's crooked smile returned. "What would I do without you?"

"Go home and behave yourself?" I asked.

He chuckled and hit the divider button so I could tell the driver our new destination. When I directed him to take us to No Limits, Ayden raised both black eyebrows at me.

"You trying to send me back to prison? Was I that bad of a dancer?" He put one hand to his heart as if I had ripped it out.

I laughed, "Not at all. The real question is whether or not you trust me."

"You're the only one I trust," Ayden said.

It was a quick drive to Jace's rooftop nightclub. The driver circled around and dropped us at the back entrance so we did not have to contend with the lines of people and their camera-phones. When we stepped into the elevator, I waited until we were one floor away from No Limits. Then I took Ayden's hand and pressed the Stop button at the same time as the basement button.

Underneath the heavy velvet curtain at the back of the elevator came the distinct sound of doors opening. Ayden's blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he turned around and pulled aside the black curtain. Behind it was a small, completely private, and completely secret club.

"All the years I worked with Jace, and I only ever heard him tell two other people about this place," I said. I lead Ayden to the bar. "The first is this man here, our resident mixologist."

"Who was the second?" Ayden wondered.

"Bryon Shelton. Not much of a party man, but he is very fond of a good Manhattan," I said.

We sat at the bar and enjoyed signature cocktails made with amazing dexterity and imagination by the mixologist. Ayden was interested in every move. Not until he sipped halfway through the delicious concoctions did he start to look around.

The Insider, as the club was called, was a long and narrow establishment that stretched out on either side of a floor-to-ceiling mahogany bar imported from Ireland. The wood was worn but glossy with imprints where centuries of patrons' elbows had rested heavily. There were small round tables flanked by plush red chairs and a set of high-backed booths on either far wall.

"Don't you think this is where Jace was heading with Knight Holdings?" Ayden asked. "Into the realm of exclusive, private, the kind of place that wraps you in rich simplicity, and lets you be spoiled."

"I don't know. Jace loved the public, and he loved his people." I stirred my drink and savored the last drops.

"Then a place the persistent public can visit, with a password that changes three times a night. One of those speakeasy type places with mixologists, and wild chefs, and the best small act entertainment. Make it feel intimate and exclusive. What do you think?" he asked.

I put my hand on top of his and pretended to check my non-existent watch. "I think it’s last call, and we should talk about where we're going next."

He turned his hand over and caught mine. "There's a choice?"

"For you. Either way, I'm going home." I slipped off my barstool and headed for the door.

Ayden caught up with me in the elevator and pressed me against the wall. His lips buzzed over mine, but did nothing more than tease me. "Are you sure you want me? Seems like all of Vegas is available to Ms. Bishop."

"I want you," I whispered.

The elevator ride and limousine drive were a blur of radiating desire. We curled up close together but waited until the driver dropped us off at my place. Ayden downed an entire bottle of water as we rode up to my top floor loft condo.

I unlocked the front door and let him prowl around while I watched. The loft was one large airy space divided on the right into two bedrooms and a bathroom and on the left into a pantry, laundry room, and half bath. The kitchen dominated the left side with a six-burner restaurant grade stove and oven, wide marble-topped kitchen island, and custom cabinets complete with soft under lighting.

"It fits you," he murmured on his second lap. "Refined, almost austere but open, full of light."

"In the day time, there's quite a view," I motioned to the wall of windows.

"Makes me wonder if you grew up in a place like this, all top-of-the-line and perfect," Ayden said. He stopped in the middle of the windows.

I joined him, stood on tiptoe and slipped my arm along his to point out the window. "Just over there is the arid little suburb where I grew up. Both parents were teachers, and we barely hung on to our two-bedroom house my entire childhood. They taught me education was key, so I studied hard and worked harder."

His arm snaked around my waist and pulled me close. In the dark, his eyes still shone a midnight blue. They locked on mine as his hands kneaded up and down my back. "I knew it was in you too. That same iron rod I have. It won't let us bend or back down or give in. Though it looks better on you, elegant."

"My friends always warn me that men don't fall for perpetually stubborn women," I said.

Ayden's lips brushed mine, and then he spoke softly against my cheek. "I love that I found it in you. We're the same underneath it all, and I've never found that before."

I took his ruggedly handsome face in both hands and used all my willpower to pull away from his intoxicating kiss. "There are plenty of other people, other women like that. I worry that what you don't know is I'm nothing special, I'm just here."

His mouth seared over mine, the heat of his passion melting me into his arms. When I clung to him as much as he held me close, he said, "I might not have dozens of notches in my bed frame, but I'm not a fool. I know when I've found real gold."

I turned my head and hid it against his shoulder. "You can't say things like that. Don't you realize I'm falling for you?"

With one easy sweep Ayden lifted me into his arms. He took one step, and then looked deeply into my eyes. "You're not lying. I know you're not, but I can't believe it."

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his doubt away. He swayed against the waves of my passion and carried me to the bedroom. Ayden lay me down on the bed so gently, as if I might break. I shook my head against his hesitation and pulled him down on top of me.

Our clothes came off in tugging blurs of fabric until the blissful slide of his bare skin on mine. The heat built between us as we touched, caressed, and could wait no more. Ayden's lips devoured mine, my body arched against him.

"Don't hold back. Please don't hold back," I begged in ragged whispers against his burning lips.

His kiss changed then, became slower and more insistent. Ayden pressed into me, claiming every inch as he eased us together. He held nothing back, but it was tender and so deeply connected, I could not imagine where he ended and I began.

My hips rocked up against him as I cried out my need against his panting lips. Ayden answered with a rhythm that ratcheted me up and over the highest crest. I rode the coaster down, feeling him with me, plunging faster until I shattered all around him.

He hung his head against my pounding heart and tried to bring his breathing back to normal. Once our pulses settled, Ayden rolled over and brought me with him, wrapped in his arms, as we drifted into a heavy, satiated sleep.

* * * * *

I woke up before Ayden, afraid the leaping of my heart would startle him out of his deep sleep. We were still tangled together, his arm tucked around my waist, our legs woven over each other, as we slept curled towards each other. I peeked out from under my eyelashes and memorized his dark head on the white pillow.