Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1) (10 page)

“What did I say?” I question.

“Sweetheart, you are not going anywhere by yourself,” Michael snaps and stands up.

“And why the hell not?” I ask, unsettled, holding the ice pack over my head.

Michael frowns; he seems ready to erupt. He paces a few steps and spins on his heel to face me. “Okay, let me go over a few reasons, shall I,” he says with a sarcastic tone, holding up his hand with a smirk across his face.

“One.” He flicks a finger in the air. “You just had a blow to the side of your head with a possible mild concussion from the way you kissed the floor last night.”

“Two.” He flicks another finger. “A deranged fuck is out in the streets stalking you and your every move, sending you e-mails, chocolates tainted with Xanax and phoning you with his pleasant calls.”

“Oh, and let’s not forget number three.” He flicks a third finger. “He’s been in your apartment and supposedly has your gun,” he recites, with three fingers in the air, his eyes hard and cold. He crosses his arms over his chest and paces around the living room restless. If he continues, he’s going to wear out the Persian rug.

I can only imagine what’s going through Trent’s head as he nods, supporting Michael’s statements.

For a moment, I’m mute and bewildered until the anger roars through me as a disturbing thought snags my attention. I have lost the complete freedom and independence to come and go as I please, all because there is an obsessive maniac after me. Chills rush through my body like razors slicing through my skin as an image of this psychopathic freak rummaging through my personal things flashes before me. The thought of him searching in my lingerie drawer, contaminating them with his filthy, grubby hands nauseates me.

I sigh with frustration, acknowledging Michael’s legitimate points. “You’re right, I’m assuming you’ll be escorting me,” I comment sarcastically.

He slowly walks across the room, sleek and powerful, not once removing his beautiful eyes from mine as he beams a wicked grin. “I will be honored,” he says and holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

I face his brother. “Trent would you and Peterson like something to eat?”

“No thanks, when we’re done I’m heading back home, making a few calls, showering and then picking up a beautiful blonde model for dinner.” He grins, showing off his sexy pearly whites.

“Who?” Michael asks.

“I’m sorry, big brother, it’s a secret, but she’s been on the covers of
Vogue
and
Cosmo
many times. You guys enjoy your lunch.” He winks those green cat-eyes of his.

Now, he has my curiosity at a peak. I have to laugh. I think out of the three Trent has to be the cutest and has a great sense of humor.

***

We walk through the double glass doors, and the attendant greets us. “Good afternoon, Miss DiMarco,” he says, and tips his hat.

“Good afternoon, Jeffrey,” I say with a smile.

Michael’s fingers lace into mine, making me tingle all over. A cool breeze rushes by us causing Michael’s wavy black hair to sway over his eyes, making him look all hot and sexy.

My cell phone rings, jerking me out of my fantasy, and Blake’s name flashes across the screen. I beam with excitement. Michael’s expression shows a hint of anxiety.

“Blake,” I mouth, and the tension over his face releases. “Hi, Blake.”

“Hey, Ariana, how was your lunch yesterday with Mr. Grayson?”

“Eventful.” I giggle. “Did you guys make it to the Hamptons in one-piece?”

“Yes, we did and thanks for letting us crash out here. We all wish you were here.”

“All thanks go to you. You talked me into making the investment by purchasing the house in the Hamptons. I’m pleased that you did. I’ve always wanted a waterfront.” I laugh.

I gasp when Michael’s strong hand pulls me hard against his chest, feeling his heat radiate through me after the light turns red at the crosswalk. I was too busy chitchatting with Blake. I would have walked right into oncoming traffic.

“Ariana, do I foresee another date?” I know he’s smirking on the other end of the phone.

“Yes, he’s standing right next to me as we speak. He’s like a leach,” I say, laughing.

Michael gapes at me with a painful, stunned expression on his face and places his hand over his heart to say he’s heartbroken by my comment. How pitiful.

“As long as he treats you like gold, love, or I’ll kick his sorry ass,” Blake says.

“Oh, stop. He’s been a real gentleman. We’ve had a bit of excitement in the past twenty-four hours. I’ll fill you in later,” I mutter, and my thoughts drift to the insane person distressing me. How will I explain this to Blake and Joanne?

“What’s wrong, Ariana?” Blake’s soft tone vibrates through the phone. His concern for me touches me with adoration. He always had a gift for picking up on my distress. I am ever so grateful he stepped into my life. He and Joanne have been the rocks I lean on, the support group I gather with when I need to cry on their shoulder. I worked so hard to regain my self-esteem and confidence back, and I owe it all to them.

Danny’s favorite pastime was to belittle me, make me feel like a worthless piece of shit as he called me so many times. I’m rather proud of myself. It took a lot of courage to walk out on him. I’m just lucky he didn’t kill me after I presented him with the divorce papers and the order of protection.

“Ariana . . . earth calling Ariana. Are you still with me?” Blake calls out.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine. How was polo?”

“You missed an exciting match, but I took pictures for you.”

“I’ll watch tomorrow’s game at Bethpage.” Michael takes a hold of my hand as we cross another busy street. My heart begins to race as Michael’s fingers brush over my knuckles, making me all warm and gooey inside. I take a quick glance at him, and from the expression on Mr. Bulldozer’s face; I would say he objects to my trip to the polo field tomorrow.

“Sounds terrific, enjoy the game and I look forward to meeting Mr. Grayson.”

“I will. I love you and see you tomorrow night.” I disconnect the call and gaze up at Michael, squinting my eyes against the bright sun. He’s glaring at me with smoke steaming from his nose like a bull.

“What?” I ask, surprise at my tone.

“Are you insane, Ariana? What makes you think you’re driving out there on your own? There is no way I’m allowing such craziness,” he says with wide-eyes, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, seething with anxiety as he tries to keep his cool in public.

Ahhh! God! I could punch him in the face. I grab his hand and rush him to a more private place to have a word with him. I find a little alcove near a storefront and push him hard against the wall. Damn him and his solidness. With my back straight, I poke him in the chest, which hurts my finger. I can’t win with this piece of steel. I glare at him, feeling the heat rise to my face.

“Me, that’s who, how dare you dictate to me,” I scold him, seething with anger. He stares back with an unresponsive expression on his face, and I want to slap him.

He lifts his hands up, gesturing for me to relax, and places a finger over my lips, and I’m so tempted to take a bite.

“I ran my mouth off without thinking. This seems to be a bad habit of mine whenever I’m around you. Please accept my apologies. What I should have said was I happen to love polo and would love to accompany you. We’ll pack a picnic basket fit for a feast for the Gods and enjoy the game.” He beams from ear to ear and releases a small chuckle dousing the flames that were burning inside me. To seal the deal, he leans down and kisses me with his soft, tender lips. Now, how can I be upset with him when he gives me the most heart-stopping, intoxicating kiss I’ve ever had? Ahhh!

“Well . . . since you made it so enticing would you like to join me.” I ask batting my lashes.

“Absolutely, now lets go eat.” He takes my hand in his, and I follow. We stop in front of the Mandarin Hotel.

“How about we have lunch at the Lobby Lounge?” He asks, his watchful eye gazing over the vicinity for anyone suspicious.

“Sure, sounds perfect.”

We walk in and take the elevator up, arriving at the top floor. We step out into walls of glass. This is the most prominent feature in the restaurant. It overlooks the captivating view of Central Park and the Manhattan skyline. The room is contemporary with a touch of Oriental decor.

A host greets us, and we’re escorted to a table closest to the window. He places an order for two glasses of red wine.

“So, Michael, I hear you and your partner’s next project is in Hong Kong,” I take a sip of my water as his eyes light up with a smile.

He takes a long drink of his water. He places his glass down, and his black, silky hair falls over his right eye, giving him even sexier than thou look. He brushes it back with his fingers and a brilliant grin radiates across his beautiful face.

“Yes, Ariana,” he says, taking my hand and goose bumps surface over my sensitive flesh as he traces my palm.

“How is the progress?” I ask as my breath continues to hitch from every stroke of his fingers.

“It’s coming along rather well. Mark and I scheduled two more meetings to finalize the plans and hope to break ground in three weeks.” He smiles, cocking his head to the side.

“Wow, that’s fantastic. I’m sure you plan to be there for the groundbreaking,” I remark.

“Yes, Mark and I are heading to Hong Kong once we establish a date.” He begins to massage the inside of my palm sending a shiver up my spine. I gasp, and I jerk my hand back.

“Ariana, why do you pull away whenever I touch you?” He frowns with a curious and troubled glare.

“Not always.” I blush, thinking of our kiss.

His eyes focus on mine. An erotic smile surfaces across his face teasing me. “No, not always,” he says, reaching for my hand again, this time with a tighter grip. He shakes his head.

“Don’t, Ariana, I’d like to get more acquainted with you. You’re a hypnotic woman. Full of mystery and I love mysteries.”

I smile, wondering if he’ll ever uncover that mystery he sees in me.

The waitress arrives with two glasses of wine and takes our order, but before she rushes off, she requests an autograph, which I am more than happy to do.

“Are you often approached?” Michael asks.

“Yes, and I don’t mind. They,” I gesture toward the public, “keep our ratings up.”

He smiles. “Well, I’m hoping for more than just your autograph Miss DiMarco, he says with a mischievous smile and kisses my hand again, leaving my poor heart in shambles.

“Michael . . . about the kiss, we shared earlier . . . um . . . It was incredible. I won’t lie. The problem is I’m not interested in getting involved in a relationship,” I blurt out. “My boss is well aware of that fact, and yet I was shocked when he set us up.” Whom am I kidding you know you want him. He’s like a Godiva chocolate, one taste and you want to eat the whole damn five-pound box.

He shakes his head and chuckles. “I’m not proposing marriage here, Ariana, dinner now and then . . . and sex. You can’t tell me you weren’t close to wanting it as badly as I,” he says, and I melt into a puddle of water, as his bedroom eyes grow darker, and my heart pounds hard against my chest, causing the blood in my veins to heat and the butterflies in my stomach to dance. I clear my throat.

“We can share a few dinners, but no more.” For a moment, I lose myself in his eyes, wondering what it would be like to make love with this man. Heat begins to slither over my neck and face making my skin flush. Embarrassment takes place when the expression on his face reveals he knows what was fluttering around in my head and gives me a wicked smile.

“And sex, Ariana,” he says, his mouth slightly open.

I swallow hard as the blood rushes like flames through my veins and I shake my head. I look away, and stare out the windows, avoiding eye contact. My heart yells out, ‘you fool’ and gives me a swift kick in the ribs. Ouch!

“Don’t avoid this, Ariana.” He takes hold of my chin and gently nudges me to face him. He smiles and cocks his eyebrow up.

I don’t know what to say. I’m left breathless.

“You will, Ariana. You’ll be dancing under the sheets with me one night. I’ll be exploring every inch of your body. I promise you this,” he says sounding self-assured as his eyes begin to glimmer with desire, causing me to turn into a bowl of pudding.

Damn him and his egotistical attitude. I fidget in my chair as moisture begins to pool between my legs.

“No. You. Won’t,” I bite back. How much more conceited can this man get?

“Tell me about your ex-husband?” He squints.

Wow! That came out of left field. I glance out the corner of my eye as the sun begins to set over the skyline, leaving behind a beautiful afterglow.

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It didn’t work out, he’s dead anyway. They found his car in a lake with him submerged in it. But you already knew about Danny.”

“Yes, sorry to hear that,” he says, trying to console me.

“Don’t be, he was no prize. What about you? I know you never married.”

“No, I never married.” His eyes turn to glass and seem distant.