Delusive (3 page)

“Asshole!” Skylar proclaimed from outside the dressing room.

“What?” Writhing around, I struggled to close the first clasp on the bustier.

“I haven’t had my coffee yet. I’m feeling super bitchy right now.”

“Yeah.”
 

“Bitch!” She playfully hit the door, making it shudder from the impact. “You don’t have to agree with me.”
 

“Whom were you calling an asshole?”

“I went to high school with both of those jerks. The private school had a lottery for kids they considered underprivileged and I got picked to attend. Elias Cari was a jerk in high school, and now, he’s a jerk as an adult. Did you see his car? Like he needed anything else to extend his penis. I know—or used to know—almost all of the girls who’ve claimed they’ve slept with him.”

“What did you do in Paris?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.

“Saw the sights. Banged a lot of Parisian men. They are such awesome lovers. I mark them right up there with Italian men. I bet I’m making you blush under that gorgeous dark skin.”
 

She wasn’t before, but at the present, she succeeded in making my cheeks feel a little heated.

She knocked on the door. “What’s taking so long?”

On the verge of giving up after only being able to fasten one clasp, I dropped my fatigued arms.

“Come out here. I’ll help you.”

I stared in the mirror, trying to tame my layered mid-back length black hair to look a little neater than it did before. I might’ve gone a little crazy with the flat iron, it had absolutely no body. The natural texture of my hair was pretty close to my mother’s naturally curly hair texture, just a little more coiled. I was cursed with her hairline, full of short downy hairs at the temple and corners of my forehead that only went one way; down and flat against my skin.

Looking at my makeup—a poor attempt to compliment my complexion—I thought maybe I was a little too understated for a La Dentelle employee. Skylar’s makeup was flawless; it was imperative I figure out how to improve my makeup application skills. I settled on beauty balm and black liner to accent my round-shaped brown eyes. I always downplayed my lips, thinking they were too full for brighter hued lipsticks.
 

I ran my hands around the outline of my square face shape and sighed.

“Hello in there.” She knocked impatiently on my door.

“Coming.” I held the cups up to my breasts and exited the dressing room. Turning around, I gave her access to the back of the garment to make it easier for her to fasten the bustier.
 

“The trick is to do it before you pull it up,” she told me. “If you do it at your waist, it won’t be so hard.”

“Did you take any pictures?” Images of Skylar gallivanting around Paris wormed its way into my thoughts.

“Of Paris? No. Like a dope, I always forgot my camera and the one on my cell phone is shitty. Oh, well. Memories.” She snapped the last clasp and turned me to face the full-length standing mirror situated between two sets of changing rooms.

“It’s gorgeous.” I fingered the beautiful embroidery and admired the way it cinched in my waist.

“You’ve got to do a lot more with your makeup.” She pointed to my face in the mirror. “We have to wear—at a minimum—foundation, eyeliner, blush, lip liner, lipstick, falsies, at least one eyeshadow, and eyebrow pencil,” she said all in one breath. “We have to up-sell the shitty new cosmetic line in the adjoining store.”

I nodded, knowing I wouldn’t remember to put all the products she suggested on my face, much less have all the things I needed to do it. “Understood. I need to wear more makeup.”

“You don’t need it.” The boom of a familiar man’s voice made Skylar and me freeze before managing to turn around. I’d completely forgotten I was in only a skirt and a bustier until Elias studiously scanned my pushed-up breasts.

I covered my chest with my hands and walked swiftly into the dressing room, shutting the door. A sudden and foreign sense of panic washed over me. Fanning my face with my hands, I paced the small space. Taking deep, quiet breaths, I attempted to calm my nerves. I had no idea what was wrong with me, nor did I know why the man, who was a stranger to me, seemed to elicit uncontrolled and unwanted sensations. Upon calming down, I retrieved my blouse from the ground and quickly put it back on.

Exiting the dressing room, and behaving as though Elias’s presence barely affected me, I tried to mirror the casual way in which he regarded me. Even under the unforgiving lights of the changing area, I couldn’t find very much at fault with his looks. Actually, I couldn’t find any fault in his looks. He was a gorgeous, meticulously-groomed man, and he was indubitably aware of his attractiveness.

“A gentleman would’ve never looked,” I stated, referring to the way he leered at my breasts moments before. My head remained high while I reached up to casually grip the supporting wall of the archway.

“Someone dead would’ve never looked,” he countered with a smirk.

Clearing my throat, I dropped my hands, clasping them in front of my thighs. “What are you doing here?”

Showing surprise over my question, he quirked a brow. “I do that from time to time. Visit here.”

“Oh? Are you in here because you’re looking for something for your girlfriend or your wife?”

Stepping forward, he raised his hands, and mine flew up in defense. A flash of a warning in his eyes made me reluctantly drop my hands. “Your buttons weren’t done properly.” In silence, he fixed my shirt, making sure my bra wasn’t seen from the opening at the collar. On the occasion his fingers touched my naked skin, I pressed my lips together to downplay a reaction. At the moment, my stomach was inundated with a constant fluttering sensation.

I looked down at my shirt, no longer unbuttoned in a way that would reveal the bustier worn underneath and completely covering any semblance of cleavage. “I’m supposed to advertise.”

“If I was your boyfriend, I would make you quit for that reason alone. You’re not a walking advertisement. You never should be.”

My bottom lip detached from my top, but the only noise coming forth was a squeaking stream of exhaled air. While his first sentence would’ve been easy to invalidate, I couldn’t fault him for his second and third statements. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re not my boyfriend.”

“Is it?” His dull discourse left me guessing as to whether he meant it as a joke or if he was serious. “Elias.” He gave me a bright smile—a weapon which could easily have pardoned the most heinous of crimes.
 

My neck burned with an irritating heat in response. “I know who you are. Skylar told me. I’m Hanley. Hanley Harper.”

“I don't think I've ever seen you before,” he stated, his words deliberate and quiet. “But there is something so familiar about you.”

“Not possible. I moved here a week ago.”

“From where?”

“Why does it matter?” A tinge of paranoia revealed itself through my question.

“Are you running from something, Hanley? Is that why you’re so secretive about where you were?”

Folding my arms, I glared at him. “You’re being very presumptuous, Mr. Cari.”

“She calls me Mr. Cari,” he muttered, glancing back at Skylar, who pretended not to listen in on our conversation while she busied herself at the cashiers’ desk. I realized I’d been staring more at Skylar than the man in front of me when his eyes began to burrow holes through me, demanding my attention.

Chewing on the corner of his luscious pink pout, he continued to regard me silently from underneath his thick, curly lashes.

I gave him a friendly smile and he smiled again, making my neck feel flushed. When I glanced at the mirror across the way above a basket of perfumed drawer sachets, I spotted slow-forming burgundy marks on my skin. Embarrassed, I discreetly attempted to cover my neck.

“It’s irritating,” he stated, his vocal inflection barely showing any variance.

“I’m sorry?”

“I can’t figure out why you're so familiar to me.” His green-hues flickered with cognizance, and for the briefest of moments, he noticed my neck. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. Hopefully, by the end of the night, I can figure out why, and hopefully evoke a reaction without making you break out in hives.”

“It was something I ate,” I replied hastily, my smile fading. Remembering how easily he asked—or rather assumed I would go out with him—I couldn’t hide my shock. “You think it’s that easy? You ask me out and I fall over myself to say yes? Just…like…that?”

His shoulders widened, making his posture rigidly straight. “Why wouldn’t it be that easy?”

“Can you be any more of a cliché?” I shook my head, suppressing a laugh. Remembering what happened at the car, I decided to call him out on his behavior. “Yeah, you read as the type of guy who snaps his fingers and things magically happen as you want them to without saying a word.”

His lips twitched into a crooked smile. “Now who’s being presumptuous?”

“But you just said—”

“Said what?” He stepped forward, his posture bowing to meet my height. The cologne, which made me gleefully dizzy earlier, worked overtime at dismantling my game of downplaying my overeagerness.
 

"Hanley," he called, snapping me out of my daze.

I hated my new name; it wasn’t my choice. The name change was a part of starting our new life here. For the first time, the life we once led had to be quickly erased or our plan wouldn’t work. Disappearing on paper, as it turned out, was an expensive task. Suffice it to say, the way my new name rolled off his gruff, quietly commanding voice made me hate it a little less.
 

“I should get back to work. It’s my first day, and I don’t want to get in trouble for socializing instead of working. I’m sorry. Excuse me.” I brushed past him.

An abrupt grip on my elbow halted me. I glared from his face to his hold on me, torn between intrigue and awe at his gall. It was made perfectly clear, in the short time I’d spent with him, the man commanded everything and everyone. His subtle attempt to usher me into the pool of his loyal and obedient subjects slowly began to work. The man was intimidating to say the least. I didn’t need to know him fully to know I’d never met anyone with a presence like his. I’d have to put up quite a battle to avoid being included in the list of those who were influenced by him instead of the exception.

“Please…look at me.” He pressed forward, directing me by my elbow to face him and closed in on the space between us. “I have an issue with people who can’t maintain eye contact with me. Your attention is something I want to keep."

“Why do you have a problem with people who avoid eye contact?” I declined his request by keeping my eyes locked to the ground.

“It’s due to the type of people that can’t. Can you please look at me, Hanley?”

“Okay then," I mumbled underneath my breath and tried hard to hold the weight of his stare.
 

"I'm very sorry about what happened in the parking lot,” he offered, the sincerity in his voice putting me at ease. “Are you sure you're all right?”
 

"I'm fine," I assured him. "No ER visit needed."

"Good." He grinned, staring at me for a moment longer. "Hanley," he whispered my name with finality and reached forward to move a misbehaving piece of hair from my face.
 

Without another word, he ambled out of the store, leaving me standing there in awe.

“Uh…you’re not going to ask me out again?" I asked his back. "You're giving up?”

He glanced over his shoulder at me and gave me a wink before disappearing out of the open double doors and around the bend.

I hadn’t the slightest idea I held my posture so stiffly until I felt a tinge of pain in my lower back.
 

“Girl”—Skylar drew out the word for many seconds and gave it a few unnecessary syllables—“you’ve just been marked by Elias Cari.”
 

“Meaning?”

She pointed to the entrance. “That man is not going to give up until you go out with him.”

“Damn it.” Sighing, I crossed my arms. “I just got here. Why? You’re much prettier and more interesting. Why didn’t he hit on you?”

She looked down at my thighs with a grin. “I bet he made your underwear moist, huh?” Her smile dropped. “Just go ahead and fuck him, and then he’ll leave you alone.”

“Thanks for the advice,” I said sardonically, giving her a smile I hoped would pick up her sudden bitter mood.

It didn’t. She promptly gave me a to-do list a mile long.

AT THE END of the night, I asked Skylar to have dinner with me. She turned me down, explaining she had somewhere else to be. Left all alone, I decided to check out the row of restaurants for something to eat. Being that it was the peak dinner hour, most of them were crowded. The least crowded place was an eatery named Romo’s Italian Eatery adjacent to a ‘60s themed diner.
 

When the hostess informed me of the forty-five minute wait, I decided instant noodles at home would be a better idea and immediately turned around.

“Miss? Excuse me!” The hostess trotted up to me, catching up to me on the sidewalk. “We have a table for you.” Attempting to catch her breath, she paused to smooth away a wayward hair from her bob haircut.