Vain - Part Two (The Vain Series Book 2) (10 page)

"Brighton keeps pushing me about working at that school in Paris." I flash the screen of my smartphone in Kayla's direction. "This is the third text this week he's sent me about it."

She shakes her head before she speaks. "Do you think you'd take it if Noah wasn't in the picture?"

It's a question I've never even considered. I'd like to think my decision to cut all ties with Brighton is about my own internal strength. Maybe it does have more to do with what I'm feeling for Noah than I've been admitting. "I haven't thought about it," I confess.

"You're not going to wake up months from now and regret that you didn't go to France, are you?" She cocks a brow as she picks at the bowl of pasta we prepared together in my small kitchen.

"No." I laugh. "Going to Paris means being with Brighton. I can't do that. Even if Noah dumped me, I wouldn't do that." The mere suggestion of my relationship with Noah ending bites into me.

"I'd say that you are officially over Brighton Beck now." She twirls her fork in the air in a mock sign of declaration. "That means I'm free and clear to jump his bones."

I wince at the announcement. "Have had it if you want." I tip my own fork in her direction. "Don’t say I didn't warn you. Those artsy types are crazy as hell."

***

"I want us to go away for the weekend." Noah runs his hands over my bare back, pulling my body into his. We've just spent the past hour in his bed, his tongue, teeth and lips coaxing one intense orgasm after another from me. He insisted I not mount his beautiful cock until he held me.

"Where?" I'm almost giddy with the promise of a weekend away with him. After all the Brighton and Ari bullshit, we need time to shelter together into our own cocoon. Doing that in another city is exciting and it means that Noah is finally feeling comfortable enough to venture into the world with me.

"I thought we could go back to New York." His lips rest against my forehead. "I want to show you my favorite places there. Places I loved going to before the attack."

"I'd love that." I pull my hand across his broad chest. "A weekend in New York with you would be magical to me."

"Magical?" I can feel his smile on my skin. "I love how you love life, Alexa. I need that."

"I'll show you how to love every moment." I close my eyes, soaking in how perfect it feels to be this close to him. "We'll love them together."

"I guess I'll need to pack for this. I can't walk around Manhattan with my dick hanging out, can I?"

I shove at his hips but he's so heavy and strong. "You're hilarious."

"Come over on Friday afternoon when you're done class and you can help me pack. Bring your suitcase," he says softly. "We'll stay until Sunday night."

"I'll be here." I slide down his body, pulling the sheet aside revealing his erection. "I need to do this first," I whisper as I pull the thick crown between my lips.

"Yes," he hisses as his fingers weave through my hair. "Suck it hard, Alexa. Suck it good."

"I'm leaving for Paris tomorrow." He's standing in my doorway. I wasn't supposed to see him again. My heart didn't want that. I wanted him to fuck off and leave me alone.

"I don't care, Beck." I reach to pick up my overnight bag and grab my keys from the coffee table. "I'm on my way out."

"You're leaving?" His blue eyes take everything in. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going on a weekend trip." I push past him and shut my apartment door with a thud. I push the key in, hinging the lock. "I need to go now."

"With Noah?" he asks gruffly. "Have you talked to him today?"

"That's none of your business." The question jars me more than he realizes. I had tried to call Noah twice to confirm the time he had booked for our train ride to Manhattan. Both times the calls had gone to voicemail.

"I saw him earlier," he admits. "We talked about you."

I know that I should ask for all the details but Brighton will slant them in his direction so I'll question the very fabric of my connection with Noah. I'm not about to let him, or anyone, steal this weekend away from us. It means too much to me. It's the start of a new beginning for Noah and me.  It's the start of a life outside emotional prison he's been keeping himself in.

"I'm late, Brighton." I start the steep descent of the stairs down to the lobby of my building.

"Alexa." He catches my elbow and I wobble precariously on the top step. I fear, for just a brief moment, that I'll fall. I instinctively reach out to grab his hand.

"Brighton, I need to go." I stare into his eyes. Anything that may have been there the night I saw him at the gallery in New York is now gone. All I see now, when I look at him, is a moment in Paris.

He nods and it's as if he finally sees it too. "I'm a phone call away. If you ever need me, I'll be on the first flight back here."

It's a tender promise that I know I'll never take him up on. When I walk out of the door and get into a taxi to take me to Noah's apartment, Brighton will officially become a thread of the fabric of my past. I can finally put that part of my life to rest, right where it belongs.

***

I glance down that the plain brown bag from Axel. Picking up a sandwich for our train ride is meant to pull at Noah's heartstrings. I know he considers it a special part of our connection, so surprising him with it seems like the ideal way to start our weekend of new beginnings. I'm excited to tell him that Brighton is leaving. He probably already knows. Brighton likely wanted to talk to Noah about his plans. I'm hopeful that he hasn't completely spoiled Noah's mood for me. Leave it to Brighton to try to fuck up my life even when he's heading out of it for good.

I wait until the doorman whizzes back down in the elevator before I knock at the door. I don't hear footsteps but I know that Noah is in there, waiting for me to help him pack the few items of clothing that he does own. I knock again, much harder this time. I'm almost bouncing up and down from the sheer excitement of what's awaiting both of us in New York.

The door opens slowly and I instantly know that it's not Noah holding onto the other side of the door handle. I spot her feet first. Her toenails are painted a subtle shade of pink. My eyes trail up her bare legs to the bottom of a white bed sheet that is wrapped around her petite frame. My breath hitches as my gaze stops on her face. I stare at her in wonder. My voice is caught somewhere inside of me.

"Can I help you?"

"Noah," I manage to spit out in haste. "I'm here to see him."

Her eyes drop to the bag in my hand. I left my suitcase in the lobby, knowing that within minutes Noah and I would be back down on our way to the train station.

"Are you delivering something?" Her eyes meet mine again and I see a reflection of my own question there. She's staring at me with the same wonder in her expression.

"Is he here?" Just as the question leaves my lips I hear his voice in the background. I can't make out the words. Maybe I don't want to make them out.

"You look like me," she whispers as she reaches to take the bag from my grasp. My eyes settle on her forearm and the jagged scar that adorns it. "You look almost exactly like me."

I stare at the scar before pulling my eyes past her face to where Noah is now standing in the apartment, his nude, wet body just feet behind her. He's drying his hair with a towel. 

"Noah, look how much the delivery girl looks like me." There's a carefree lilt in her voice. "We could be twins."

She's right. We could be twins. She looks so much like me. More than Amy did. More than any of the blonde, blue-eyed women in the portraits did. More than any woman he's photographed, or called an agency for, or fucked has. This woman bears a striking resemblance to me and suddenly it all makes sense.

"What are the chances my random twin would be delivering your food?" She darts her head back to look at him.

It's not random. That's why I'm perfection to him. I'm her. I'm Camilla without the scar.

I take a step forward.

I need to talk to him.

I need to understand what's happening.

"Camilla." Her name is a growl that comes from deep within him.  "Give us a minute."

"You can tip her in front of me." She doesn't move. "Get rid of her, Noah. We have a lot to talk about."

"Go in the other room." His hand sweeps down the hallway and she walks away, her bare feet moving quickly along the floor.

"Noah," I say in a tone that I can't even hear. "What is going on?"

He doesn't respond. He stares blankly at my face, his eyes studying each of my features intently.

"What is going on?" I repeat louder and more clearly.

"You need to go, Alexa."

I reach for his arm but he pulls back. I stumble forward before I regain my footing. "No. I'm not going anywhere."

"Please, Alexa.  Just go."

The door opens under his heavy hand. His eyes don't meet mine as I walk back into the hallway. The dull thud of the door slamming shut the only sound in the empty space.

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Deborah Bladon has never read a romance hero she didn't like. Her love for romance novels began when she was old enough to board the bus, library card in hand to check out the newest Harlequin paperbacks. She's a Canadian by heart, and by passport, but you can often spot her in New York City sipping a latte and looking for inspiration for her next story. Manhattan is definitely her second home.

She cherishes her family and believes that each day is a gift for writing, for reading, and for loving.