Owned: An Alpha Anthology (32 page)

SINGLE: VOLUME 1 BY LYRA PARISH

8

Stacey: What is your ETOR?

Me: What in the hell does that mean?

Stacey: Estimated time of readiness.

Me: Fucking models.

I laughed, of course, and texted back to pick me up in thirty. I had just enough time to take a shower and put on the leather shorts suit. In the back of my closet, I had a pair of
Pretty Woman
boots hidden, and until tonight, I never had anywhere to wear them. Boots like that weren't something a person could sport daily, unless that person was Stacey. The leather suit stopped upper thigh, which left a few inches between the tops of the boots that zipped up my legs. The heels on them were around five inches. I would be as tall as my bestie tonight, and I smiled at the thought.

After applying makeup and scrunching my hair for a while, Stacey called from down below, and I buzzed her up. When she opened the door, she whistled and gave me catcalls. She was wearing a slinky little dress and high heels, giving her four inches on top of her six-foot frame, but she was used to seeing the top of everyone's head. The gold bracelets on her arm clinked together as she ran her fingers through her straight blond hair. She always looked like she was ready for a photo shoot, especially with her perfectly-matched golden eye shadow and red lips. Tonight, her makeup screamed Goddess.

"Fucking hot," she said, as she walked completely around me. "That ass! Can I borrow some?"

I playfully slapped her on the arm and rolled my eyes. "You always say something about it. I
wish
I could just let you borrow a handful or two."

Of course, she laughed. "Masks?" she asked, and I grabbed the leather one I bought from the store as we headed out the door.

My heart raced at the thought of the night. We drove to the other side of Houston and pulled into a nice subdivision with gated homes. At the end of a cul-de-sac, a large mansion with flame-lit lanterns awaited us. We placed the masks over our faces. Stacey slowed as she pulled into the drive. A man wearing a black tuxedo and white gloves—and of course, a mask—greeted her. My heart pounded in my chest, and a spike of adrenaline shot through my body. I had no expectation as to what would happen or who I would meet. The inescapable unknown teased me. Then it dawned on me that there was valet at a house party. That alone was impressive.

She pulled a black card from her purse and handed it to the gentleman. He read it, then opened the car door, and took her keys. Another man opened my door, and we walked to the front of the car where she looped her arm through mine. The stone-covered sidewalk led straight to the double wooden doors. Pumpkins covered the porch, along with fall themed décor. Before we could ring the doorbell, the door glided open. A tan skinned man, who had the sexiest smile I'd ever seen, greeted us. He and Stacey exchanged two kisses on the cheeks, like celebrities, and he led us inside.

"Marcus, this is my best friend. I believe you've met her before," she said.

My eyes went wide, and I nudged her.

"It's okay, Rox. We are old friends, and his lips are as tight as his ass," Stacey said, laughing as she grabbed it.

"Oooh, baby," he said.

He guided us through a sitting area with high ceilings, and into the main living space. We entered a large area where the only light came from the large candle chandelier in the middle of the room. Classical music drifted in the background and only added to the fanciness of the party. The guests, dressed in evening wear, turned and looked at me, who looked like the hooker straight out of
Pretty Woman
. I grabbed Stacey's hand and squeezed hard.

"I'm dressed like a fucking whore compared to these people," I said, and my mood went from soaring to falling in just a few seconds.

"I didn't know. I'm sorry. And it's not like they know who you are," she whispered in my ear. "First rule of wearing leather: own that shit, girl. Make this room your runway."

"Fuck," I said.

A woman walked around with a tray of champagne, and I grabbed two glasses. Stacey went to take one from my hand, and I downed it, then handed her the empty one. If I were to remain here, completely out of place, then at least I needed to shave the edge off of my mood.

"What size are you wearing?" she asked me.

"Small, my boots are a nine."

Instantly, Stacey grabbed my arm, whispered in Marcus' ear, and he pointed around the corner. She dragged me up the stairs then down a long hallway. I didn't know what the hell was going on. Then she opened a room, and in the corner I could see a large garden tub, a standing shower, and a toilet. When she walked inside, she took off her dress and untied the golden Greek-goddess heels that wrapped up her legs.

"Take it off," she demanded.

I looked at her confused.

"Take off the leather, Rox. I'm trading you."

The look in her eyes said she meant business, and there was no way I would argue with her when she got like this. I unzipped the boots and the leather, and handed them all to her.

"Do you want my strapless bra," I asked.

"Hell, no." The leather looked like it was made for her body, and her body alone. Though I was a little shorter, it looked perfect on her. She flipped her hair over and teased it out a bit, then bent over and zipped the boots up her legs. I slid on the cotton dress, and she handed me the gold bracelets that matched her sandals. That outfit on her looked completely different than it did on me, mostly shorter.

"I don't mind all the attention on me. Actually, I kind of fucking love it. So, go out there and have a good time. Fuck everyone else. Okay, well, don't actually fuck them, but you know what I mean." She winked and then removed the white mask and asked for my leather one.

"Perfect," she said. "Now, let’s go have a good time, shall we?"

We walked down the stairs, and back into the main room where all eyes magnetized to her. She smiled, flipped her hair, and ate up the attention. Within a few minutes, men were surrounding her, and I left her in her element. She waved for me to come back, but I went to grab another glass of champagne from the waitress across the room. After I slid another from the tray, I noticed a familiar black mask standing in front of me.
The bartender.
Instead of the blue jeans, he wore a tux and a black tie. Just by his simple gaze, everything in the room seemed amplified: the music, lights, and people quietly chatting. Was I nervous?

He made eye contact with me and, before he took a sip of his champagne, he smiled. I swallowed as he excused himself and walked toward me. I turned my back to focus on Stacey who devoured the attention.

"Hi, pretty lady," he whispered in my ear.

"Hi." Heat rushed to my face as I slightly turned my body.

"I know this is weird, but I was kind of hoping to see you here. Katie, right?"

He had remembered my
fake
name. How many women had he talked to last night? I tilted my head and looked at him, still wanting to know what was under that mask. So much of his face was hidden.

"You're the bartender. I remember."

He chuckled, then talked so quietly that I had to really pay attention to every word he said. Everyone in the room seemed to be whispering to one another. I supposed it kept all conversations private. "Yeah, just the
bartender
. Actually. I'm not a
real
bartender. It was a favor for my brother. And so is being here. This is his house, and he opens it up for private parties like this. I'm kind of staying with him for the weekend, and I owed him for his hospitality. Honestly"—his voice dropped even lower, to a full whisper—"this isn't my thing. Meaningless sex has no appeal for me." He stared at me and sipped his drink.

I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Well, the lifestyle really isn't my thing either. The blond is my best friend, and she dragged me along because I needed to have fun and get laid, apparently."

"The spotlight of the party?" he asked, and we both turned our heads as she laughed and placed her hand on one man's shoulder. She fucking owned that leather.

"Yeah, that would be her," I said and sipped again.

"Honestly, you're the only person in this room that I noticed." He looked back at me, his eyes gleamed.

I wasn't really sure what to say. And if this wasn't his thing, then what did he think of me at the moment? Especially after last night. I forced a smile, and he smiled back.

"Sorry, I don't usually say things like that."

Silenced sliced the moment in half.

He leaned in and whispered in my ear. "Actually, I'm not sorry. I meant my original statement."

I laughed, then sipped my champagne.

"What's funny?" he asked.

"Nothing. This whole situation. It's—" I shook my head and downed a gulp.

"Awkward. I know. Do you want to . . . sit? Chat? Maybe two people who have no business being here could entertain one another. See that guy over there?"

I looked across the room and spotted a dark-haired masked man laughing at something. They made eye contact with one another. The Bartender leaned in and spoke so close that his breath on my ear caused tingles to rush through me. Feelings that I hadn't felt since . . . I swallowed.

"That's my brother, and if he doesn't see me at least making an effort, well, then he will make me pack my bags and go stay at a hotel for the week."

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" I smiled, keeping my voice low, and handed an empty glass to the waiter.

Mr. Bartender led me over to an archway, and into a room with a couch that faced the flames of a fireplace. We sat and watched them rise and fall. The lights were low, and the fire cast a warm glow around the room as late night jazz played in the background. It was comforting to sit with him on the couch and not say a single word. There was no reason to ruin the moment with small talk or pointless words. Saxophones, pianos, and the tap of the snare drum almost whooshed me away.

When the song ended and another started, he stood and grabbed my hand. Of course, I tried to back out, but he wasn't taking no for an answer.

The song was slow, and seemed to speak to my soul in a way no other music could. He confidently wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him. I placed my arms around his neck, while his hands gently rested on my waist. When I breathed in, there was only smell fresh soap and man.

Our bodies danced slowly to the music in the background, and a smile covered my face. I was dancing in an empty room with a stranger to fucking jazz. As the song ended, he spun me around in a circle and brought me back to him. Our faces were close, too close, and his breath danced upon my skin. I wanted to rip the mask off his face and solve the mystery, to see what was hiding beneath, but I knew the rules of confidentiality. Butterflies filled me as the space between our lips vanished. Our mouths slowly memorized each other's. The kisses were slow and intense, like the moment would never end. When the kiss deepened, the warmness of his tongue brush against mine. Emotions stirred inside of me, and by the time we pulled apart, I felt lightheaded and giddy. And I didn't feel giddy, ever. A high-hat beat set the tempo for the next dance we shared. It was as slow as the previous song, but Mr. Bartender added a few spins and dips. When I smiled at him, it was a real smile. Maybe, just maybe, swearing off all men was a bad idea. Was it possible a few good ones still existed in the world, and I was dancing with one?

"Who are you?" I whispered. I had to know. I needed to know. He pulled me against him and ran his fingers through my hair. Before he could respond, Stacey was screaming in the doorway, tearing us both away from the moment.

"It's time to fucking go," she said.

I broke away from Mr. Bartender, and we both stopped and looked at her.

"What the hell happened?" I asked, looking at her, then at him.

"Some asshole recognized me. The fucker took pictures, then uploaded them to the Internet. My fucking agent called me and said it's caused a shit storm online. We've got to get the fuck out of here, right now."

Before I could say goodbye, Stacey grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away.

"Hey," he yelled holding my phone in his hand. I ripped my arm from Stacey's death grip and went to him. He had enough time to program his number inside of my contacts. "Call me, babe. I have a feeling this isn't over." He kissed me on the cheek, and I walked away. Speechless.

I was at a loss for words. Relationships and Rox didn't go together, or did they? Stacey interrupted my thoughts as she pounded her fists against the steering wheel in a rage. The whole way across town, she was on the phone with her agent, bitching about how it was against the rules of the party, and how she could do whatever she wanted. And
hell fucking no
, she didn't plan on being a Playboy bunny. I looked in my phone and saw that all he’d programmed in was Bartender. I smiled and sighed as I stared out the window while the buildings passed me by.

All I could think about was him, how soft his lips were, and what he truly looked like. I didn't even get his name. For a moment, I felt like a modern day Cinderella who had left her prince charming. Secretly, I hoped that we would meet again. The thought that love would never find me again was slowly crumbling to dust, and it was all because of a stranger. I didn't know what was under the mask, what his voice sounded like other than a whisper or yell, or even his name.