Inferno: Part 1 Read online

  Bryce

  If I hadn’t been looking for her, I would have missed her leaving. She runs out the door, and her face is red and shiny so I know she’s been crying.

  I shoot Sam a glance and motion for him to come over.

  “Sam, have one of the bouncers make sure Mila gets home okay.” He knows by the way I’m speaking that I’m not looking for questions, I just want him to get on it.

  I am wondering if I should just walk her home, when Phillip walks in.

  “Hey bro! Long time, no see.” He claps me on the back and I’m still somewhat guarded, wondering why he’s not at school.

  “It’s been a while. I’m not used to seeing you on days when the post office is open. How’s school?”

  He gives me a look, and then begins to give me the details on his latest exploits in New Hampshire. We’re interrupted by Sam, who only interrupts when something important happens, so I have to cut Phillip off to find out what’s going on.

  “The bouncer called. All her stuff’s on the side of the road,” Sam says and gives me a look that tells me he’s awaiting further instructions from me.

  “My car?”

  “It’s waiting outside,” he assures me.

  “Thanks, Sam. Keep an eye on him, will you?” I nod toward Phillip.

  Sam knows the drill, and he gives a tight-lipped smile.

  The distance from Inferno to Mila is short, but when I pull up she’s sitting on her couch next to the curb, surrounded by scattered clothes and dishes. Her head is buried in her hands, brown hair falling around her face like a curtain, but from the way she’s shaking I know she’s in tears.

  She doesn’t move when the limo doors open and close, so I kneel before her, and part her hair with my hands. Tears trickle down crimson cheeks and I can tell that she is too tired to conceal her distress.

  “You can stay with me tonight,” I say, lightly propping up her chin so she looks at me.

  “Well, thanks to Inferno, I have eighty bucks for a hotel.” She looks to the side.

  “Don’t waste your money—we live less than a minute apart. Just stay with me tonight, you can figure everything else out tomorrow.”

  She looks back at me.

  Part of her wants to fight, find some way to do this alone, but a bigger part is just tired. She stands up in one smooth motion, grabs her backpack, and lets me guide her to the limo.

  ***

  Once we’re in the apartment she sits on the couch, tucking her feet up under her. I grab a blanket, draping it around her shoulders.

  I make us both a cup of hot tea, and she leans on the back of the couch, watching me quietly.

  I bring the tea to her, watching but not saying a word. Delicate hands take the mug from me.

  As she sips slowly, I take her free hand again.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” I say as I search her eyes.

  The day must have worn her down, because she only pauses for a second before everything streams out in a rush. It’s like she’s been needing to get it off her chest.

  “Well, I’m officially homeless for starters. My landlord came over before work tonight saying he needed a payment, and I asked for more time and promised that I’d make money tonight and give it to him, but when I got home, everything I own was on the sidewalk. It’s probably all been picked over and taken by now. And on top of it all, I’m dangerously close to my GPA dropping, which means losing my scholarship. So I will be homeless and school-less soon.”

  “You can stay here as long as you need. I have plenty of room and—” I say but she cuts me off.

  “Bryce, that’s so kind but I can’t. Everyone will think I’m some kind of slut and I already work for you. It’s just not possible.”

  “We’ll figure something out. Maybe I can fire you,” I joke, but her eyes widen in panic. “Sorry, not funny, right. We can get through this.” I trace circles on the back of her hand, and she begins to relax. That is, until her phone dings.

  She digs her phone out of her pocket, her face bleak, and when she put the phone back down her face is hopeless. Something in me feels her pain as deeply as if it were my own, and all I want to do is fix this and make her happy.

  “Tell me,” I coax.

  She has to steel herself for this revelation, breathing deeply and setting her shoulders.

  “My father has cancer. He was supposed to have surgery in a few days, which of course he insisted I not skip school for. But my aunt just called. They’re moving him to intensive care and I don’t know what’s going to happen but he must not be strong enough for the surgery right now…”

  With each additional sentence her voice grows strained with emotion, until she can no longer speak. A small noise, the tiniest release of pain and stress and I can’t stand it anymore. Even as the tears begin to fall, I pull her into my arms, her head resting on my chest, and support her body as she is wracked with sobs.

  ***

  A bright light shines on my face, and I blink my eyes only to realize she slept in my arms the whole night. She stirs, and panics when I say it’s seven in the morning.

  “Oh crap, I should be in class! I can’t afford to get further behind.”

  Her mind must still be processing, because in the middle of looking for her shoes, she pauses. “Oh geez, I’m sorry. You slept that way all night—you must be exhausted.”

  “It was worth it, Mila. Trust me.” I flash a bright smile, but she is already back to looking for her backpack, now that her shoes are found. She disappears into the bathroom, and is ready to leave when she reappears. “I have a car waiting downstairs for you. It can take you to class.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll take a cab. Thanks for everything, Bryce.”

  My first instinct is to insist that she take the car, so I know she arrives safely at her class, but she is running away. It’s like no other girl I’ve brought home—she doesn’t want to stay, doesn’t want free rides in a town car. Not to mention the fact that she slept here all night.

  The typical game plan doesn’t apply here—it’s not even the same sport. So, I give in and only say “anytime” before she is out the door.

  Usually the morning is my alone time. Women are gone from the night before, Nathan is still asleep and won’t call for several hours, and the club is closed. But something has shifted.

  I look around my pristine apartment, surveying the expensive finishes and furniture. None of it makes an impact. All I want is the apple-y smell of Mila’s shampoo, her soft warm skin, the weight of her body leaning on mine.

  Most girls are just a means to an end, and while I want to share that with Mila, it’s not about getting laid. My mind pictures something tender, something slow. Exploring her body and pleasuring her. Feeling her on the inside, our bodies pressed tightly together. The words form slowly in my mind, an unfamiliar sentiment: I want to make love to her. But on the edge of my mind, is something deeper I can’t quite face yet.

  Maybe, just maybe, I’m falling in love with her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mila

  Work is a welcome distraction tonight, especially since my shift is with Shayne. He seems to have the kind of personality that never gets down. He’s always smiling and helpfully shows me shortcuts and gives me tips as he remembers tricks he was once taught.

  “Mila, I’m so glad you’re smarter than the last girl they hired. She was pretty, of course, but she couldn’t walk and remember drink orders at the same time,” Shayne says.

  I laugh out loud—Shayne is not afraid to say what’s on his mind. He gives me a little hip check behind the bar, and I find myself wishing I had a brother like him.

  For as skinny as he is, he carries multiple cases of beer to the bar in a single trip. When I ask if he lifts weights, he says working here is about the same, and we fall into an easy rapport. My mind keeps drifting back to Bryce, so when we’re slow I try to get some details from Shayne.

  “So, does Bryce only hire girls for looks?” I ask.

  Shay
ne laughs and says, “Not exactly. But if you’re serving the public, especially in a place like this, we all have to maintain certain standards, if only for our tips’ sake.”

  “Alexa said that Bryce brings home a different girl almost every night—is that an exaggeration?” I can’t seem to help myself, the more information he gives me the more I want.

  “Mila, take this the right way, but it’s nobody’s business what Bryce does in his personal life. We all see the same thing working here, but Alexa tends to dwell on it. Me, I am more curious why you’re so interested.” He waves his pointer finger at me, smiling as if he knew a secret. “My guess is, you’re interested.”

  “No way!” I blush, almost stomping my foot. Shayne is so off base here. But I’m still embarrassed, so I step out from the bar to check on my few tables.

  Before I take even a few steps, Bryce pulls me aside and tells me to hold out my hand. Is this some weird fetish? Am I going to get smacked like a bad school girl? My instinct is to pull away, but he simply drops a silver key into my palm.

  “For your apartment,” he explains. “I bought the building.”

  “Bryce, that’s so kind, but it’s too much. I can’t accept.” I’m shaking my head at him with eyes begging him to take the offer back.

  “Well, if you don’t live there then it would be a colossal waste of money. But I consider it as an investment in your education and employment here. Having staff close by is a huge bonus. Just take the keys.” He smiles at me and his eyes are full of sincerity.

  Without any further discussion he walks away, and it takes me a minute to process that one of three major problems in my life has just been solved. I pocket the key, and get back to my tables, with a smile that I can’t and don’t want to contain.

  Bryce isn’t fighting tonight, so he sits at a corner table, overlooking most of the club. It’s mere seconds before a flock of girls rush to keep him company.

  Each one is more beautiful than the next, all of them tall, leggy, dressed scantily in tight-fitting clothes. A knot forms in my stomach. It feels like someone punched me and my chest hurts. My emotions change so drastically it surprises me, and I don’t know why I care. Bryce’s womanizing history is constant fodder for the tabloids, but still my heart sinks, seeing him surrounded by beautiful women who vie for his attention.

  Almost as soon as they come, Bryce looks them down, unsmiling, and gestures for them to leave. I’m not sure he even saw my face, but they are all gone in an instant and some small part of me feels better.

  “That’s a first,” Shayne says and raises his eyebrows when I come back to the bar.

  “What?” I have no idea what he’s talking about but the confused look on his face makes me want to know what he means.

  “Bryce sending his groupies away. I have literally never seen that happen.” He looks me up and down with the same confused look on his face. “Is there something going on between the two of you?”

  “No,” I insist.

  “Gotta be,” he says and then pauses. “He’s doing that for someone’s benefit.” He raises an eyebrow and elbows me gently.

  I heard my voice deny what Shayne is saying, but inside I feel fluttery. Could it be? Did Bryce Cole really like me enough to forego other women? I mean, he did buy a building to save my home, so it’s not that crazy of an idea. But could he actually be a one-woman man? My mind is rationalizing that it may be a partial truth. Bryce might like me. But he is notorious for the hit it and quit it relationship model.

  The only sensible thing to do is take a shot with Shayne after the bar closes, and head back to my apartment, hoping some of my belongings have been rescued.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Bryce

  “Graciela, this isn’t the tablecloth I specifically asked for,” my mother bitches.

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Cole, I thought you said the blue one.”

  “Well, yes, the slate blue. This is blue heather.” The woman can’t help but correct even the tiniest of infractions.

  “I’m quite sorry. Perhaps if we could label them I could be sure to—” Graciela is holding her hands out, palms up, practically begging for forgiveness.

  “Well it’s too late now!” my mother snaps. “Everything is set out. For goodness’ sake, Graciela, we’ve already had the salad.”

  The maid’s eyes are welling up with tears, and mother motions that she can leave.

  “It is ridiculous,” mother says and then looks at me. “You simply cannot find anyone born in America to stay on for permanent help, and these…immigrants. Well, they just do not understand a thing. Maybe I should try to find a black person. It worked for my grandfather, and his father.”

  I’m still shocked by the awful things that come out of her mouth, sometimes. Pretty faces are often made uglier by the thoughts of that person and my mother is a prime example. It’s still a marvel that none of her staff have tried to poison her, or at least prank her.

  “So, tell me about this new girl who has caught your eye, Bryce,” mother says as she delicately spears a baby carrot.

  “How did you—” I say dumfounded. I let my fingers absentmindedly stroke my chin as I consider how she knows about Mila.

  “Oh, please, Bryce—I’m your mother. And a mother simply knows. You have not been this happy for quite a while. So tell me—where is she from? Do I know her family?”

  I let my hand drop to the table and pick up my glass. I take a sip while I carefully consider how much information I’m going to share with my mother, if any.

  “I doubt it. She’s from a tiny town in Virginia, no family in the city.” Why am I telling my mother anything? There’s one thing I know for certain and that’s she won’t be happy no matter what I say. Not that I care, but if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s nitpicking.

  “Hmm. What does her father do?” She leans forward as she says it, eagerly waiting for a response from me.

  “Well, I’m not sure. Her mother passed away a while ago, and her dad is in the hospital right now, so he might not be working. I don’t know.”

  “What do you know about her, Bryce?” she insists.

  I know where she’s going with this.

  “She goes to Columbia, is smart, and doesn’t give in easily.” I look at her intensely daring her to ask another question. I can tell I irritated her. A little chuckle escapes my lips.

  “Persistence is a trait you can find in any dog breed—Bryce, please, you are a Cole. You could have any woman in this city, and you should choose with that discretion in mind. Now, Kayla, there is a fine example. I always liked her—”

  “—Even when she left me?” I don’t even bother to control the look of disdain that now owns my face.

  “Bryce! You do not interrupt your mother. She may have left, but think how young you both were. Kayla has grown since then and so have you. She is the Vice President of Marketing at her father’s company. I’m sure this new tramp of yours cannot compare.”

  Not ten minutes ago I’d been wondering why the staff didn’t poison my mother, but it’s all come rushing back. The endless nitpicking, feigning offense when you dare to question the authority of Liz Cole—it’s exhausting. So I take the safe route, and pull the wine decanter closer to me.

  ***

  After dinner, my mother’s nagging is still hanging over my head, along with thoughts of Kayla and Mila, so I head to a small pub. I can barely order my drink before a girl squeezes into the crowded bar, brushing her breast against by arm as she claims the seat to my left.

  “Bryce Cole, right?”

  I nod, down my whiskey in one gulp, and offer her my hand.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  It was my offer but she leads the way, explaining that she lives close by.

  Once we’re in the elevator she pushes me against the wall, sticking her tongue into my mouth and grabbing my ass. I’ve got to admire the chick for knowing what she wants. There’s something about the lack of a chase that makes my usual reperto
ire feel just completely ordinary tonight. I just let everything happen, I’m not even really into it, but my cock seems to have its own mind right now.

  She lets us into the apartment, shutting the door and turning the deadbolts, then turns to me with her sultriest face. Her hands expertly unbuckle, unbutton, unzip, and I am naked in mere seconds.

  Her hand is firmly on my chest and she pushes against it. I let the pressure coax me onto the sofa. There’s a sexy, devilish expression on her face as she slips her panties off.

  My erection grows harder as she lifts her short dress up so that I can get a good look.

  She straddles me and takes my mouth onto her own.

  I push her hips down and guide her to take my full girth. She’s rocking against me. It’s deep and fast when she slides up and down. I flex, moving myself into her even harder.

  With my eyes shut I picture Mila instead. Giving herself to me, allowing me to take control and give her pleasure. The images make me come, but as soon as I do, the distraction is gone.

  An empty feeling is all that’s left.

  I leave, despite her multiple invitations to stay for round two. My mind is fuzzy, but walking in the crisp night air begins to clear the fog. Mila floats to my mind again, and I feel guilty.

  Mindlessly, I cover blocks on my street, walk past the penthouse and Inferno, not really processing my surroundings until I reach Mila’s building. It must be a sign.

  She answers the door, and I stumble towards her in a stupor. She pushes me away when I try to kiss her. I refocus my eyes. She looks tired. Actually, she looks mad. Or sad? I don’t know.

  There are lots of bangs with cupboards closing and dishes clinking and then she returns with a glass of water.

  “Drink,” she insists.

  “Kiss me,” I pucker my face and lean in, but again she pushes back.

  “You smell like cheap perfume.”

  My last hookup did have a strong cloud of perfume, so it must have rubbed off on me.