Vigil (8 page)

“I like that plan,” he said. His arm tightened around me.

I closed my eyes again, and I let myself relax. I didn’t think I was going to have any problems going to sleep.

He kissed the top of my head. “Being with you tonight was…”

I raised my face to look at him.

He looked away.

I lowered my face again.

I heard his voice again, barely louder than a whisper, even though it reverberated in his chest, where my head was resting. “You’re lovely.”

I felt his words dart into me. They made my breath hitch and my insides clench. I liked him too.

* * *

I liked him too much, I decided when I woke up alone in the morning.

And my feelings were probably going to get me hurt.

I managed to shove aside my thoughts about it while I worked on the article about him, focusing instead only on writing the best news story I possibly could. Writing was generally like that. Once I fell deep into what I was doing, the rest of the world didn’t matter. It was my passion. I loved it, and it took me away from everything.

The Vigil in the story, the one who’d answered my questions, wasn’t the same Vigil who I’d been intimate with. Because the Vigil in the story was beginning to seem more and more like my own creation. I was editing so much of who Vigil was out of the version I gave out for public consumption that it was almost as if they were two people.

It fractured him even worse.

Presumably, he was someone else under that mask. Someone with another name and another life. I didn’t know anything about that someone.

Then he was the masked man that saved women, was connected to Hayden Barclay, and fucked my brains out.

Finally, he was the sanitized Vigil, the one I wrote about, with all of his disturbing and confusing bits cut off.

But once the article was done, and I got up from my computer, I couldn’t stop hiding from the fact that I’d been intimate with Vigil.

Every time I moved, I became aware of the fact that I’d gotten laid last night. I had that just-fucked tenderness between my legs, the sort of sweet twinge that took me back into my memories of what had happened. I walked across the room, and I remembered the way it felt to have his hands on my breasts. I riffled through my closet looking at clothes, and I was lost in the things he’d whispered to me while his cock pounded in and out of me. I sat down, and it was as if his mouth was still on my neck.

I was assaulted by the memories of it. They were good memories. I had enjoyed every second of being with him, and I wanted to wallow in thinking about it, taking out each moment and replaying it over and over again, cherishing the things he’d said to me like well-worn keepsakes.

But other thoughts were intruding.

It wasn’t late at night anymore, and he wasn’t here, and I could think clearly away from him.

And what I kept thinking was that I was in deep trouble.

I hadn’t been with an enormous number of men. Vigil made five.

There had been two in high school, one that mattered to me and one that didn’t.

A drunken hook-up in my freshman year.

And Scott, who I’d broken up with only a few months ago.

But even though I hadn’t slept with scores of men, I recognized the symptoms of what I was feeling for Vigil. I seemed to be cursed with falling for for men after I slept with them. Possibly only because I slept with them. I didn’t know.

I did know that
both
the boy who didn’t matter in high school
and
the drunken hook-up in college had broken my heart.

I didn’t mean to fall for any guy who managed to get his dick in me, of course. That didn’t stop it from happening.

Darlene had told me that the only way to get over it was to have a lot of sex with a lot of different guys. She said it was emotionally painful at first, but that after a while it got easier.

I didn’t like that option. It sounded to me that Darlene had simply burned off her ability to feel. She’d hurt herself enough to become desensitized to it. I was afraid that she’d made herself numb. Not just to pain, but to actual love. When a guy came along who deserved her, would she be able to remember how to care about him after she’d spent so much time training herself not to?

And I didn’t want that to happen to me.

Of course, Darlene never got a chance at real love. Barclay stole it from her.

Darlene aside, I was developing feelings for Vigil. Because of the sex. It hadn’t helped that he’d been so tender afterward, almost as if I’d tamed him by fucking him. I thought of the way he’d held me while I interviewed him, of his lips on the top of my head. Of his telling me I was lovely.

Damn it.

And the sex…

Well, the sex had been phenomenal. It wasn’t a prerequisite to my falling for a guy that I banged that the sex be good. I’d been head over heels for the guy in high school, and we’d had pretty much the worst sex of all time.

Vigil and I, however, had been explosively connected. I didn’t know how to describe how amazing our coupling had been.

But just like that boy in high school, the one who hadn’t mattered, Vigil wasn’t right for me, and I knew it.

There was no future in banging a guy in a costume, no matter how perfectly his cock fit inside me or how easily he’d made me come.

I couldn’t go on a date with him.

He couldn’t be my boyfriend.

There was no future in any of it. All I could hope for was fantastically sexy interludes.

I had to admit I was excited at the prospect. I wanted him. I didn’t know if I’d ever wanted someone so badly.

But I couldn’t be satisfied with a man who occasionally crawled through my window at night for some raw footage. I needed more from someone if I was going to be having sex with him. And Vigil couldn’t give me more. Wouldn’t give me more.

Which meant that I was on a path to disaster.

I could see the future, and in it, I was going to be devastated. He was going to hurt me. He was going to shred my heart.

I needed to stop it somehow. I needed to take an exit somewhere, turn around and head back to safety and rationalism.

But I also knew I wasn’t going to do that. He had too deep of an effect on me. I was helpless against him.

* * *

“So, you had company last night.” Airenne raised a wicked eyebrow over her coffee mug.

I felt my face go hot. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that Vigil and I were making noise. Maybe too much noise. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I only caught the tail end of it. You did wake me up, though. Who’s this mystery guy? He wasn’t here when you went to bed. Did you get a late night booty call?”

“Something like that,” I said. “He’s, um, no one.”

She set down her mug on the counter and reached for a granola bar. “I want a no one like that. You gotta at least tell me where you found him.”

I had to lie. I couldn’t tell her what was actually going on. I had to keep it a secret. So, where could I say I met a guy? The bar? What would Airenne think of me if she thought I brought random guys home from the bar? “Uh, I met him through work. While I was working on the Vigil story.”

She looked disappointed. “I never meet guys through work. Unless they’re gay. It’s the only downside of working for a fashion magazine.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Did my ears deceive me, or did you just admit that
Bold!
was a fashion magazine?” She generally said that the term was derogatory and dismissive.

“Shut up,” she said. “You want coffee? I’ll make you some if you want.”

“I’ll get some at work.” I grabbed a banana from the hanging basket next to the refrigerator. “Are these my bananas or yours?”

“Yours,” she said. “I don’t buy bananas, because there’s only one day where they’re actually at the perfect ripened stage. The rest of the time, they’re either hard and green or squishy and black.”

She had a point. The one I was holding was heading into squishy territory. “But they’re so portable.”

She laughed.

“I’m really sorry I was loud,” I said.

“Oh please. Whenever I get laid, I’m going to be twice that loud.”

I cringed.

“Joke,” she said. “Now that we’ve talked about it, I’ll probably think about it during, and it’ll ruin the mood.”

“I hope not.” I headed for the door. “I’ll see you this evening.”

“Hey, Cecily?”

I stopped, my hand on the knob. “Yeah?” I turned around.

“I know that the Veronica Waite benefit isn’t exactly your thing, but I do have an extra ticket, and there’ll be free food and champagne. Do you want to come with me?”

“Me?” I was surprised she’d ask me. “There’s gotta be someone else you want to ask.”

“Actually, no, I don’t know anyone except people at
Bold!
and they’re already going to be there. You’re so outgoing and brave and stuff. You can just talk to anyone, even masked vigilantes, so I guess you probably don’t get that, but—”

“No, I understand,” I said. “And I’m not
that
outgoing.”

“Well, you’re pretty much my only friend in this town. And I think it would be fun.”

When she put it like that, how could I say no? “Of course I’ll come.”

She beamed.

Man, did I feel bad for thinking all the semi-mean things I’d thought about Airenne.

* * *

I was in a dress I’d borrowed for Airenne, since she’d claimed that I didn’t have anything appropriate for the Veronica Waite benefit. And it was true, I didn’t really own much in the way of dress-up clothes. My idea of dressed up was generally to throw a blazer over my jeans and call it business casual.

I had to admit that it had been fun getting ready together.

And I thought I looked pretty hot in the dress that Airenne had lent me. It was a sleeveless gold number, with embroidered trim around the edges. There was a slit on one side, which I thought was super sexy.

The benefit was being held in Callum Rutherford’s mansion. I’d never been inside a house that was big and elaborate enough to have its own ballroom. But that was where we were. The house was historic. It had supposedly been built in the 1800s after the Rutherford family had built its fortune. It was beautiful and enormous. Diamond chandeliers dripped from the ceiling. Landscapes and still lifes hung on the walls. The floor was polished white marble.

Callum Rutherford himself was in attendance, with a busty blonde on each arm. He wore an royal blue suit, which made his blue eyes pop on his flawless face. He grinned and conversed easily with the other guests. He had a lazy charm, I had to admit.

Airenne and I were watching him across the room, but it was different to see him in person as opposed to TV. He had charisma.

“I have to talk to him,” said Airenne. “I have to get a quote for the piece I’m doing.”

“Okay,” I said.

“I’m nervous.” She fiddled with her clutch purse. “I bet you never get nervous.”

“I get nervous all the time. You think when I went out the other night dressed like a hooker, I didn’t feel nervous?”

“You didn’t act nervous,” she said.

“And therein lies the answer. Don’t
act
nervous.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll just go over and introduce myself.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You’re a reporter. You’re doing a job. You have to talk to him.”

She nodded. “Right.” She smoothed her hair. She took a step. She looked at me. “Come with me?”

I laughed. “Okay.”

Together, we made our way across the room towards Callum. On the way, a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes saw us, and we stopped to each take a glass.

Callum was seated at on an antique couch. One of his blondes perched next to him. He had a casual hand resting on her knee. The other blonde stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder.

It was creepy, I thought. Kind of like he had Stepford bodyguards or something.

The girls were clearly ornamentation for him, part of his image. I imagined that he changed them out weekly when he got bored.

We approached him. He grew closer and closer with every step.

He leaned forward and whispered something in one of the blonde’s ears.

She giggled and swatted at him playfully.

He got a supremely satisfied smile on his face, like he was the king of the world, and he could have whatever he wanted.

I hated him.

He was so self-involved and arrogant. Sure, he was attractive, but being attractive didn’t mean that he had the right to act like an asshole.

He looked away from the blonde at Airenne and me.

When he saw me, the smile faded from his face.

I must have let my disapproval show somehow. Damn it. I hoped that I wouldn’t mess up Airenne’s chances to get a good interview.

He got up from the couch.

We were only a few feet away.

Airenne moved smoothly to intercept him. She offered him her hand. “Hi, there Mr. Rutherford. I’m with
Bold!
magazine, and I was hoping to have just a few minutes of your time?”

He shook hands with her. “Certainly. How could I resist a smile like that?”

Airenne’s smile brightened. She tittered, looking pleased and embarrassed.

He looked from her at me again.

It was just a quick glance, and then he turned back to Airenne, but there was something about it I didn’t like. His look seemed to go under my clothes as if he knew what I’d look like out of my dress. I felt exposed and violated.

“Maybe we could go somewhere quieter?” He offered her his arm.

She took it. “Sure.”

They strode away.

* * *

Airenne and Callum were gone for a while, so I stayed in place, sipping my champagne. I hoped her interview was everything she hoped for, considering she had quite a crush on him.

For what it was worth, he seemed to have been polite to her. But something about that guy rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t like him. I was glad that I hadn’t had to stick around and listen to him answer Airenne’s questions. It might have been too hard for me to not roll my eyes.

After a while, I began looking around at the other guests. They were all prim and proper in their finery, standing with their shoulders back and their chins tilted. They looked like mannequins in a department store. Mannequins that could move, anyway. I began to feel a little bit out of place.