Eluding Nirvana (The Dark Evoke Series Book 2) (15 page)

The
pencil-like leather dress was tight. It hugged me like a second skin, but it wasn’t trashy or streetwalker material. It was classy, appealing, and something which, to me, screamed prestige. With long-sleeves and a slight plunging neckline, the sapphire necklace which Liam gifted me on our first anniversary was able to taking pride of place and rest peacefully on my chest. The peak of the reversed V at the front of the ensemble extended to my mid-thigh, allowing my long, toned legs to be displayed, but without fear of revealing the result of yesterday’s incident.

Thick
, bouncing, tousled blond locks rested on my shoulders, my newly-cut thin bangs scattered across my brow, and I was more than impressed with my mission to disguise my bruising eye with ample cosmetics. It wasn’t even noticeable.

I was pulled
from admiring my reflection by a blaring of a horn outside. Taking several steps around the bed to the bay window, I placed my knee on the padded bench and folded my body over to gaze down at the sidewalk. A black limousine was parked alongside the walkway, and a smile stole across my features. Gazing down at the chauffeur beside the car, his hands grasped and hanging at the front of his body, his head lowered, all I could sense was the degree of Liam’s love for me. He may not say it often, but actions speak louder than words, and his were screaming at me.

Seizing
my black and silver clutch purse from the foot of the bed, the slight protesting of leather sounded as I lifted my arm and I nestled my purse in-between my bicep and breast, and checked my reflection once more. The silver mirror of my peep-toe heels matched perfectly with the silver trimming of my purse. Flicking the light switch off as I exited, I dashed out of the room with an enormous grin, and headed down the stairs and out of the house, locking the door behind me.

“Good evening, Miss Jenson,” the elderly man greeted
and held the door open simultaneously.

“Good evening,” I replied,
slipping myself inside. When the door was closed I breathed in deeply. The fresh scent of the car mixed with the new leather of my dress was a heady combination.

As we pulled off, I dug into my purse and retrieved my cell. I punched in a quick message to Liam:

Liam, you have spoiled me rotten. I was expecting a cab.

See you shortly.

Love you xxx

A few m
inutes later, the handset chimed:

Liam: When was the last time I allowed you to get a cab? The lengths some people will go to in an attempt to pick up victims are
deplorable. I’ll see you soon.

Love you, too xxx

Liam, Liam, Liam…always worrying about me and my safety. Dropping my cell into my bag and clipping it closed, I grinned to myself. Why was I even moaning? It was an honor that he cared so much. The time to worry would be if he didn’t care about me. It’s nice to be looked after.

Thirty minutes lat
er we were pulling to stop in Seaport, alongside a huge building with a red awning that had, ‘The Hyperion’ scripted in elegant cursive, silver writing. Peeking out of the tinted window to my right, I was still studying the structure when my door was pulled open. The leather protested as I twisted on the seat, dangled both of my legs out of the door, and unfolded myself to stand on the sidewalk, making sure my dress remained shielding what needed to be.

“Thank you,” I muttered to the elderly gentleman.

Lifting his hand to his hat, he nodded, “Ma’am,” then rounded the hood back to the driver side.

The light clicking of my heels on the ground echoed as I
ascended the three front steps beneath the awning, with my purse tucked under my left arm.

When
I pushed my way through the classy revolving door, I didn’t expect to be drowned by that degree of a lavish elegance.

Greater than what it appeared outside, t
he thick, luxurious blood red carpet with silver, swirling scattered patterns throughout drank in my heels with every step I made. A round, mahogany reception desk sat in the center of the lobby, while rounded couches were dotted around the expanse area. Bellboys meandered around with guests, guiding them to the bank of elevators.

I suddenly felt very self-conscious as I carefully made my way to the desk. After asking the young woman
where I could find the DeLaney Constructs event, I was escorted through the remainder of the lobby, down a corridor to the far right and into one of the function rooms.

Stealing
a deep, calming breath and exhaling through pursed lips, it was obvious that the butterflies in my gut were getting the better of me as I stood before the heavy, intricately carved double doors at the end of the small, elegant corridor. With my wits finally gathered, I pushed the door open, and was bathed by sounds of soft chattering and clinking of glasses as both architects, and the construction workforce of DeLaney Constructs, gathered together in their little groups, around the elegantly dressed round tables with their plus-ones. A subtle, golden glow was emitted from an elegant heavy crystal chandelier, which hung from the epicenter of the square, segmented mirrored ceiling, while the bar was situated at the very far left end of the room.

I spotted Liam
the instant I traveled deeper into the room…could this even be classed as a room? I was sure many a wedding reception had happened in this very spot. Standing facing away from me as he conversed with his employees, his arms were waving around and gesturing as he spoke. I didn’t need to hear what was being said to feel the passion he obviously felt about their topic of discussion.

One of the four men in front of him
had said something which I couldn’t quite hear, but the tip of his head in my direction, told me that he was informing Liam of my arrival. This was the moment that I found both exciting and nerve-wracking: his reaction to my makeover, as a result of his generosity.

Butterflies stretched out their wings in my stomach
once again as I, taking well measured steps with swaying hips and weaving between tables, closed the distance between us. When Liam turned to face me, I smiled, my eyebrows rose as my eyes widened, seeking silent approval.

“Hey, Kady,” the men I had never met before welcomed me. It filled and warmed my heart more so, knowing that they knew
of
me
, even if I didn’t know
of
them
. Liam obviously talked about me while in their company.

“Hi,” I
replied quickly, and as I leaned into Liam to greet him with a kiss, my smile was wiped from my face. Wrinkles appeared quickly in the center of his brow, while his eyes caught fire and the familiar tick of his jaw worked overtime.

As the men continued to talk between themselves, Liam
, with reservation, bent to kiss me on the cheek. Prickles spawned in my body when he whispered, “What the fuck is that?” into the hollow of my ear. As soon as he withdrew, lips were covering my own and a hand, which at that point in time was amassing my unease, roamed over my back. His brow tipped to brace against my own.

“I thought you would like it? It’s classy, and––”

“This is what my money buys? You’re lucky I’m obligated to stay here, because I swear to God…” his scathing statement weakened as he trailed off and I sucked in a harsh breath, thankful that he halted his words just then. With everything I had, I stopped myself from being overridden by fear of what he
would
do––what he
could
do.

“I’m sorry, Liam. I thought it would make you happy––”

Like a dictator, he held his head high and defiantly reared back, making me feel inferior once again. These moments were vastly becoming common, yet I was still conflicted by how loving he was that morning, in comparison to who stood before me now.

I really needed to stop pressing his buttons.

The left side of my face was cradled in his hand. I couldn’t command myself to look him in the eye. I didn’t have a right to, not after I had done this––not after I had made him feel this way. But when he whispered his demand that I look at him, I peeked up at the God in front of me. If he commanded that I got down on my hands and knees to kiss and lick his feet in front of everyone in that very room, I would have without hesitancy, because at that moment, I was the lesser of us and he deserved my respect.

“You have made me happy.”
He was making me dizzy with his rapid mood changes, yet I couldn’t stifle my moment of relief as I smiled, and each taut muscle in my body unclenched. My smile was mirrored, although unlike mine, his wasn’t genuine. It was unhinged. It was wicked…it made me panic and fight for air, my muscles straining once again as I grew guarded.

The warmth and tenderness of his touch upon the side of my face soon became
heavy. Blazing eyes alongside the sinister upturn of his lips prompted the butterflies in my stomach to attempt their great escape. “You managed to cover this,” he finished, the tone of his voice a complete opposite of the demanding power behind his caress. I sucked in a deep inhalation, the air hissing as it passed my teeth and caught in my throat, while he bore his burdensome thumb into my injured cheekbone, his smirk spreading wider.

In a room full of approximately thirty or forty bodies, I
was standing immobilized before Liam as he issued my punishment. Not wanting to cause a scene, I fought my body’s instinct to retreat.

So what did I do?

I closed my eyes and breathed through the tenderness as he continued to bore and roll his taxing thumb over the arch of my cheek.

To the people of the room, Liam was issuing a compassionate, ardent gesture and I
, like a loving partner, was absorbing it, relishing it. In reality, I fell into the void in my mind where I could see past the pain, past the fear––the part of me where, only yesterday, I managed to find my escape…

As h
is hand swept away from my face and the pulsating of my cheek radiated into my eyeball and upper jaw, he told me to leave him and get a drink. While I made my way to the bar through the throng of individuals and white-clothed tables and chairs, I silently hoped and prayed to a higher being, that what just happened was the beginning and the end of yet another penalty for my foolishness and lack of respect.

I gestured t
o the young man behind the bar who was stacking numerous crystal glasses with a snowy towel draped over his shoulder. His black hair was combed over and stuck to his head with enough styling product, to surely be flammable. Having been given a three drink rule, I asked for a small white wine, when I overheard a faint yet crafty whistle resonate from beside me. Craning my head, I muttered an affronted, “Excuse me?”

The man in a crisp white shirt, navy suit pants and silver tie, lifted the glass bottle to his lips and took a
draw before setting it back onto the dark wooden surface of the bar. “Sorry, it’s just…” his piercing blue eyes greedily scoured my body as he shook his head with an appraising smirk. “Wow.”

By the time my eyes drifted back to the bar,
my wine glass sat waiting for me. Offering a measly smile, I wrapped my fingers around the beverage and raised it in a mock toast with an arched brow. “And that was the reaction I was expecting from the boss man,” I muttered morosely before caressing the rim with my lips.

“I’m sorry to disappoint
you, but I hear he’s taken.”

“I kn
ow.” I freed the chilled glass of my grip and leaned into folded arms which were resting on the edge of the bar. Peeking back at the man beside me, I sighed, “I am she.”

Incredulous widened eyes gaped back at me,
his hand fisted into his light brown hair, causing it to stick up in an attractive, disheveled kind of way. His stubble-coated mouth curved as he offered a smile which dripped with ample embarrassment and showcased straight, white teeth. It was adorable. “Oh, Jesus Christ, I am so sorry. Here, let me buy you another drink.”

“It’s okay, no offence taken,”
I snorted as he gestured to the bar tender to get me another drink. Over the brim of my recovered wine glass, my eyes narrowed. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new?”

The top of his glass bottle lingered on his
full, pale lips. When he dragged it away, he nodded. “’Aye, just been signed for this Williamson contract. Who knows whatever’s after that?” I smiled briefly at his accent. It was gentle. It was pleasant. It was enthralling.

“Well, let me be th
e first to welcome you aboard.”––I held my hand out politely––“I’m, Kady Jenson.”

Staring into ocean blue eyes, I saw the corner of his mouth twitch
giving way to a tiny dimple in his left cheek, his shirt tightened over his chest as he breathed heavily. The rough skin of his palm grazed as he wrapped it around my own. “Walker.”

“Mr. Walker, it––”

I was cut short by a low, deep chuckle vibrating from his throat. “No, Mr. Just plain, Walker,” he corrected me.

“Walker,” I
tentatively tested the name on my pallet. “Unusual name.”

“
About as unusual as finding an Irishman in Boston, eh, Kady?” I was completely thrown by the way my name fell from his mouth. The way his tongue rolled over the ‘D’, making it sound like ‘Katy’, was both warming and sensual. It made me smile––a genuine smile, one that touched my eyes and had the shy sophomore I was in high school, resurfacing.