Chapter 7

According to G****e, a walk of shame is, "an instance of walking back home on the day after an unplanned casual sexual encounter, typically dressed in the same clothes as the previous evening." That's interesting considering I am wearing the same clothes and yet, nobody has ravaged the hell out of my pussy. So why in the hell does this feel like a walk of shame, me, out here on a dark, but warm New York night? Surely, it's not because I had sex. No. I definitely did not do that.

Oh, wait. That's right. Alexis is. In fact, I bet she's still having sex right now in her apartment with Jackson, you know, the guy who shamelessly flirted with me. Guess I was wrong about him. I dodged a fucking bullet tonight. And here I thought I had drank too much. The two of them fucking had me beat.

I come to a pathetic stop in front of Minutiae. Turns out Alexis doesn't live far from it. A part of me wonders if Elias is still there. Should I humor it? I mean, what the fuck do I have to lose at this point? I could go in and try to find him and someone could pick me up instead or maybe, just maybe, the right thing would be to try and find him and if he wasn't around, see if someone could help me find him. That idea is more logical and probably more sound. I don't know him well, but I trust him more than some pathetic douchebag looking to cop a feel.

I approach the bouncer, who smiles at me when he remembers me and doesn't hesitate to let me back in. The line isn't as long as it had been, but as I enter, the murmurs begin and he silences them again like he did last time. I thank him in a gentle tone as I step inside.

I head straight for the bar, but I'm met with utter disappointment. I sigh and take a seat at the bar, and it's not long before a bartender approaches me. He can tell I'm sad, but he must recognize me because he puts what looks like a club soda in front of me.

"What's up?" he asks over the music.

I shrug and slowly spin the glass in front of me. "I was looking for someone," I answer. "But he's gone. I just don't want to go home right now. I'm dealing with betrayal."

"Betrayal? That's a big deal. Who fucked you over? A friend? Some guy?"

"Both," I answer.

"The little brunette that was with you?"

I look up at him and frown as I nod.

"Damn. You're better off without her, then. She fucking that guy you were with?"

I nod again and finally take a drink of whatever this is. Come to find out it's ginger ale. That's fine with me. I need to sober up, anyway.

"And the guy you're looking for?" he asks.

"The bartender that served us," I reply. "But he's gone. It's fine. I never expected him to stay."

He presses his lips into a thin line and stares at me for a moment. He holds up a finger, moves to speak to the other bartender, and then returns. He gives me a little encouraging smile and waves me to follow him, so I do. We weave in and out of the dancing people and he takes me into a hallway that's a thousand times more quiet, but my ears are ringing. I hate loud music for this reason alone.

We make it into an office and he gestures for me to sit as he pulls out his phone. He dials someone and brings the phone to his ear. He does this a couple of times before he sighs.

"Sorry to bother you man, but there's a lady at the club who needs you."

Well, need is a strong word, but I suppose he's not wrong.

"No, I don't know her name and no, I didn't ask. It's one of those women that was at the bar just before you left," he explains. "Yeah, yeah. That's the one. Yeah, she's here in the office. Wait, you're where? Fuck, man. That's an hour from here on a good day."

An hour from here on a good day? Easy. He's in the Hamptons. Of course, he'd have a little retreat there, and I can't blame him for going to it. I would, too, if I was him.

Mystery man chuckles. "Okay. That works, I guess. See you in about thirty."

He lowers the phone and looks at me. I'm trying to decide how he's going to get here in thirty minutes when he is obviously an hour away.

"I'm inconveniencing him, aren't I?" I ask, frowning. "It's the story of my night, so why not add fuel to the fire," I sigh.

He shakes his head. "No, I don't think you're doing that. It was just more unexpected than anything."

A nervous laugh bubbles up inside me. "Believe me, I'm right there, too."

"How do you know him, by the way?" he asks, tilting his head to the side. There is a curious look in his eyes that makes me squirm uncomfortably.

"You mean because I'm not supposed to be here?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "No, sweetheart, you deserve to be here just as much as the next person. What I'm getting at is you're not typical of a woman seeking him."

And thus begins the process of this asshole sticking his mouth in his throat. "Because I'm Mexican?"

His eyes get wide. He doesn't like the fact that I just accused him of being racist. Well, welcome to my life, jackass. I live that day in and day out.

"Absolutely not!" he exclaims. "What I mean is that—"

"I'm young and he's not?" I ask.

He sighs, grimaces a little, and then nods. "I'm sure you're a wonderful person. It's just... This is unusual behavior for him."

I'll take his word for it. "I can assure you it's nothing like that," I reply. "He's more a friend than anything else to me right now." But now that he mentions it, I wouldn't mind something more coming of this, but I know it won't. I'm clearly untraditional and Elias is a traditional man.

Mystery man doesn't say anything else. In fact, he leaves me after about ten minutes. He must be the manager of the club. His people skills are lacking. Would it be in my best interest to tell Elias or would that just dig my hole deeper with him? I side with the latter. I'm already in troubled waters with him. I'd rather it not get any worse.

The door opens a little while later and I want to assume it's the mystery guy, but every part of me knows it has to be Elias because the air changes. I swear it's electric. I didn't feel that with the mystery guy. He just annoyed me.

He moves to my field of view and takes a seat on the desk just in front of me. I slowly look up at him, noting he is wearing those dark wash jeans I suspected, and he's still wearing that tan hoodie. His hair is more disheveled than I remembered it being. And he's wearing his iconic glasses again. Those black frames suddenly look rather sexy on his face. Maybe it's the alcohol talking, but damn, he's fine as fuck.

"What's wrong, Cora?" he asks, gripping the desk on either side of him. He looks concerned. I didn't mean for him to be concerned.

"I have shitty friends, Elias," I answer. I know calling him by his actual name is a bold move, but we seem to be on a first name basis now. Pretty sure I remembered being Miss Eldredge earlier in the day.

"Why shitty?"

I scoff. "This is going to be rich, so buckle up," I say, adjusting how I was sitting. My ass is sore from sitting in this chair. He needs to invest in better chairs. "So Alexis is my childhood best friend. You know her," I add, gesturing to him. "But I was the only person who never wanted anything from her besides a genuine friendship, but tonight she taught me that even friendships that are supposed to be as strong as ours can fall apart."

He sighs. Apparently, this isn't fresh news to him. "I'm aware of Alexis and what she likes to do," he grumbles. "What did she do to you?"

"She's currently fucking Jackson," I answer, leaning back in my chair. "Making me the idiot for thinking Jackson liked me when I was all wrong."

I suddenly couldn't look at him. I definitely feel incredibly stupid. "I should have known better," I mutter.

"How could you have known, though?" he asks. "They're probably drunk out of their asses. Besides, you see their true colors now. 'Suppose it goes along with the level-headed behavior I saw from you earlier."

I grimace and look up at him. "That's just being respectful, Elias," I reply. "I couldn't keep cleaning knowing you were in there, especially since you were..." I let my voice fade and I sigh. I cross one leg over the other and lean on the left armrest.

"Naked?" he chuckles.

I scoff, but a smile still found my lips. "Don't be ridiculous. You were wearing a towel."

"Eh, close enough," he replies.

I shake my head and chuckle quietly as I looked back at him. "I'm sorry I interrupted your evening. I didn't know where else to go. Truthfully, I just didn't want to be alone right now. You didn't have to come back for me."

He shakes his head and pushes off the desk. He extends a hand to me and I accept it. He helps me stand. His hazel eyes pierce the deepest recesses of my soul, and it doesn't make me uncomfortable. I suddenly feel like I have nothing to hide from him. And I want him to fucking kiss me something goddamn fierce. Instead, he takes my hands in his. This isn't helping because the electric charge that's in the air feels like it's coursing my body now.

"I know I didn't have to come back for you," he answers quietly. "But I did."

"You don't want to be alone tonight either?" I chuckle nervously.

His face turns thoughtful as he looks away. There's a sad smile on his face. "I'm used to the loneliness," he sighs quietly.

This conversation feels awfully personal and perhaps I shouldn't have asked. I clear my throat. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that," I reply. "But I have to ask, how the hell did you get back here so quickly?"

He flashes those incredible pearly whites at me, lets go of one of my hands, and guides me toward the office door. "It's better if I show you," he answers.

I laugh quietly. "Lead the way," I insist.

He doesn't let go of my hand as we head to what looks like an elevator, and when it opens, he gestures for me to enter first. I mutter a soft thank you before stepping on. He follows, hits the R button, and moves to the back of the elevator to stand next to me. He grips the railing on either side of him and I clasp my hands in front of me.

The ride up to what I assume must be the roof is quiet and the air is still electrically charged as ever. He has to feel it right? I can't be the only one. Curiosity has me glancing over at him. The confidence this man exudes is kind of intoxicating. I want to get lost in it. His eyes shift from the numbers changing above the door to look at me. His face is unreadable for a moment. Maybe he's trying to understand what's going on here, too. It's understandable. I feel we've entered waters we shouldn't have, but there's no way in hell I'm going back now.

"You flew a helicopter, didn't you?" I ask quietly.

He grins. "Maybe," he answers slowly, shrugging.

Of course, Elias Dabney-Aparo would have a helicopter that he's certified to fly, but not only that, this club, has a helipad. This man is truly something.

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors slowly open. He gestures for me to go first again. I know he's doing this to be a gentleman, but I swear to God he's doing it to check my ass out, and you know what? I want him to do more than check my ass out. If this piques his interest, I will sashay the hell out of it.

Which is what I do, but I pull off to the side to wait for him. He approaches me, clears his throat, and extends his hand back to me. I lace my fingers with his and he grins as he guides me down the short hallway to a door. He pushes it open and the warm New York air hits me. It makes goosebumps race across my skin, but it's the helicopter I look at that captures my attention. It's nice and everything I imagined a billionaire such as him would have. It's all black and fancy and every bit expensive. Maybe he could teach me how to fly it sometime.

He guides me toward the passenger side and opens the door. I look up at him, grin, and shake my head.

He helps me inside. His hand graces my ass just barely and my breath hitches in my chest. I look back at him as he climbs up and helps me buckle in. If touching my ass affected him like it did me, he's doing a great job in hiding it, but I did a good job in hiding my reaction, so I guess it's only fair. But buckling me in affords him a few extra touches that my body welcomes.

He hands me a headset and helps me push my afro curls away to set it on my head. I throw my head back in laughter when my hair doesn't cooperate, but he doesn't give it. He manages, with my help, to get the headset on my head. He checks the restraint one more time before he hops down and closes the door, locking it up tight.

He walks around the front and climbs into the pilot's side and does the same things for himself, buckling in, and putting his headset on. He looks over at me and even in the darkness of the night, I can see him smile. "You good to go?" he asks.

I smile and nod. "I've never been on a helicopter before," I admit. "Can you show me around the city at night before you take me home?" I ask.

"Planned on it," he answers. "Nothing like seeing the city at night."

"Good," I say, leaning back in my chair.

I'm lost when it comes to things like this and I just quietly watch him work his magic, bringing the helicopter to life, and then taking off. We're airborne just minutes later and I feel adrenaline laced with excitement coursing my body. Tonight has been unexpected, but I'm not regretting where I find myself now. I feel safe with Elias. He's more respectful and kind than I expected him to be. A man in his forties, like him, has experienced a lot in life and they know what they want and they're kind of set in their own ways. Elias doesn't seem like that. Yes, he's experienced a lot in life and he probably knows what he wants, but he's not set in his ways, or ways that are becoming of a man his age. He's far from traditional, but not a rule breaker. He strikes me as a guy who likes to teeter that line between good and bad, leaning more toward the good than bad, but everyone is a little bad and he's gotta be the sexiest bad guy that I know.

"You doing okay over there?" he asks, glancing over at me.

I realize now that I've been staring and I feel my cheeks get really hot. I clear my throat and look away, redirecting my attention out the window to my right. "Doing great," I answer. "I'm not afraid of heights. Stuff like this is exhilarating."

"You as a daredevil, eh?" he asks.

I chuckle and nod. "Probably much to Kenny and Mimi's dismay."

He taps the side of his head. "I'll have to keep that in mind for the future."

"Now, I'm worried," I laugh. "Should I be?"

There's a slight wiggle to his brow. "Only time will tell now, huh?"

I'm grateful it's dark and that he needs to focus on flying the helicopter because my throat bobbles and my hands go numb. I'm pretty sure with that response I stopped breathing a little too. He's toying with me and he knows it's affecting me. If he only fucking how much it really is, though. I mean, my body is vibrating with excitement. It's making it so hard to focus on the helicopter ride. I feel the need to fidget as warmth pools between my fucking legs. Goddammit, this man is going to be the death of me.