Finding Eva (Sophia Noire Series) (2 page)

He slowly licks his bottom lip, “Thanks
, but no. You are beautiful, though.” He tosses the towel back at me. Confused and a little irritated, I retreat to the back bedroom.
 

Exasperated, I towel off and flop on the bed for a moment to clear my head. What is his angle? I have never had a client do this before and I am baffled. I spot the closet door open and see some garment bags hanging in the closet with boxes of shoes laid out on the floor. I unzip a bag and peek inside. Holy smokes! There are gorgeous gowns and dresses from various top designers.
 

I pull out a pair of Joe's jeans and a cream cashmere sweater and lay it on the bed. I see he took the time to buy me some Cosabella lingerie. I hope that I get to keep these clothes. I know that Alexi, my handler, gets quite a bit of my take. However, I am thankful that I see any of the money that I make. Most girls who
I live with have
no
rights.
 

I slip on my new clothes, which fit my curves perfectly, by the way, and pad out barefoot into the dining room. The food has just been set out and he's playing Norah Jones on his iPod. James pulls out my chair like the gentleman he seems to be, settling me next to him, and pouring me
another glass of champagne. His hair is a bit more tousled and his look is definitely more guarded. I wonder what has happened since I left the room to change.

CHAPTER 2
MOOD SWINGS

My eyes wander around the room and I can feel a shift in the mood here. Something is different. I just can’t figure him out. The candles are a nice touch but I get the feeling that he is trying too hard.
 

“This looks wonderful
, James. Thank you.” I pick up my fork after seeing that he has taken his first bite of his steak. My lobster risotto is delicious and I savor every bite. I normally don’t eat this well at home. My diet usually consists of spaghetti and cheap ramen noodles. When I’m inspired I make my mom’s homemade pierogi.
 

“So tell me
, Sophia, what is your favorite food? Is this risotto to your liking?”
 

I finish the bite of food in my mouth before I speak. I try to mind my manners because I want to lick this plate clean so as to not miss a morsel.

“I think that my favorite food is ice cream.” My face lights up as I think of real vanilla ice cream and how my dad I used to love making sundaes with lots of hot fudge and whipped cream.
 

“What about you
, James? Is steak your thing? Are you a meat and potatoes kind of guy?” As I ask I can picture him eating all sorts of fancy food. He probably eats lobster and sushi all of the time with his fancy life and his fancy friends.
 

Instead, he surprises me with his answer. “Actually I love grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. It is my favorite comfort food. We will have to order some ice cream for dessert since it is your favorite.” He looks at me for a moment as though he was lost in some memory.
 

Hoping that he doesn’t notice that I am totally
scarfing down my dinner, I don’t interrupt his train of thought. I watch him for a moment, taking in his features one at a time. He has a scar on his forehead above his eyebrow. He is quite muscular, his biceps bulging out a bit in his dress shirt. Damn! He is hot! He looks about my age, maybe a year or two older. He has a distinguished face that seems wise for his years.
 

“What are some fun things to do in Portland while I am visiting
, Sophia? Perhaps you can show me around a little while I am here.”
 

“Sure, I can do that.” I almost stutter as my words tumble out of my mouth. Think quick, Eva! What are some fun things to do?! I take a big sip of champagne and try to think of some things that I have always wanted to do since moving to Portland.
 

“We could visit the Portland Art Museum...um...Do you like to read?” He gives me a bemused look. I continue, “You look like the kind of guy who likes to read. We can visit Powell’s Bookstore. It is a big tourist stop for most people.”
 

I always loved my trips to the bookstore with my mom. We would peruse the aisles and spend hours there. Thinking about my parents makes me a little sentimental and I shove those feelings back to the far recesses of my brain. I don’t like to think of what was. I have my current reality and I have to deal with it.
 

“So I look like a guy who likes to read, huh?” James seems a little stunned by my assessment.
“Well, sure, I read to educate myself, but I don’t read for pleasure. I don’t have time for it.” His words cut at the end as though he is bitter about not having the time.

His mood lightens quickly, and he asks, “What kind of books do you like to read, Sophia? You look like a girl who loves to read.” He gives me a playful grin and I want to kiss his dimple.
 

I notice that he is almost done with his dinner so I set my fork down and don’t take the last bite off my plate. I can’t finish before him, I am nervous about making a bad impression. Again, I am tempted to lick up every last morsel, but I refrain.
 

“Sure, I love to read. Mainly I enjoy magazines.” I try to play off my ditzy call girl act while twirling a loose tendril of hair that I missed when I put it up for my bath.
 

He’s about to say something else and I am relieved by an interruption from his cell phone. He strides across the suite to pick up the phone, closing the door behind him. I am left sitting in the dining room by myself, so I take that last bite off of my plate and grin. A girl could get used to this.
 

I get up and walk by the door casually to try to listen in on his conversation.
 I hear muffled sounds from his side of the phone but I can’t make anything out. I sit back down and take another sip of champagne just in time for him to walk back in the room.
 

He stands over me and takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom. He dark eyes sparkle as he watches me follow him. He picks me up in his strong arms with no words spoken,
 just a look between us.
 

As he lays me down on the bed I start to undress myself.
 

Okay Eva, this is it. Finally James is making his move.
 

He stops me in mid zip and takes both of my hands and holds me down on the bed. I can’t move as my legs are also pinned down with his weight.
 

I suck in a quick, shallow breath as I lay there in wonder.
 What does he have in store for me? He is powerful and warm and smells delicious. Are we finally going to have sex?
 

“Don’t move. I am going to kiss you now.” He breathes in my ear softly and my whole body reacts. We would get an A+ for chemistry as I can feel my body respond. I take a deep breath in and hold it. Desperately I try not to make a sound. I am so turned on that my head is spinning.
 

He lets go of my right hand and slowly unwinds the rubber band holding up my hair. Cupping my face he places a soft kiss on my lips at first. It then gets deeper and I can feel his tongue in my mouth. I return the kiss and explore his mouth with my tongue, biting and sucking his bottom lip. Oh. My. Gosh. He is such as hot kisser.

He moans softly and I can feel his thick cock press against my thigh. He has me on fire and I don’t want this to stop. I feel a high pitched noise escape me and I quickly hold my breath again. He trails kisses down to my neck and collarbone as he caresses my waist. He is nibbling and sucking my neck and I can’t hold back anymore. I take my hand and wind my fingers through his hair and hold his lips to my neck. Relishing in the feeling of his mouth on my soft, sensitive skin. I begin  to squirm under him, enjoying the friction of him pressing up against me. 

All of a sudden he stops and looks down at me with a weak smile and I can see pain in his eyes. He is almost panting—he is breathing so hard.
 

Sitting up he takes my both of my hands in his and I can feel the connection between us shift from intimate passion to distant and cold. Oh no, how can such passion disappear so quickly?

“Thanks for a wonderful evening
, Sophia. I will call Alexi later and set up our next date.”
 

He slips off of the bed and points to the back bedroom. “Go ahead and change back into your other outfit or keep what you have on. There are shoes and other coats in that closet that you can have as well.”
 

I sit their dazed as to how strangely this has ended. Did I do something wrong? Is he mad that I touched him? I gather myself and nod. Perhaps I got too carried away. My body is still tingling from our make-out session and his scent lingers.
 

“Thanks
, Mr. Hunter.  I will just change back into my original outfit. I hope...um...” I stutter my words and I feel like we just met for the first time. Again he is a stranger to me. “Thanks for a wonderful evening and dinner.” Avoiding saying his name feels good. I feel rejected and hurt. What is his problem with me?
 

I walk back to the bathroom and gather my clothes and change as speedily as I can manage. I try not to sulk. I am a professional. I am used to guys treating me badly, so why should I care about how James ended the evening?
 He’s no different than all the rest.

I sigh deeply as I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
But, for a moment it felt as though it would be different.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts.
 

Raising my eyes, I stare at myself in the mirror, taking inventory of my tousled hair and swollen lips. I can still feel him kissing me. That’s when I notice that he gave me a hickey on my neck. I stand there in the bathroom grinning.

Possessive men are known for marking a girl to claim their territory. I feel like a giddy school-girl.
 

I fold the jeans and sweater and slip them back into the Nordstrom bag. I am still wearing the Cosabella lingerie. I haven’t owned nice lingerie like this ever. He did say that I could keep them, right?
 

When I walk out to the main room he is not there. His butler is standing at the door and gestures to the threshold of the suite. “Ms. Noire, Mr Hunter had to leave suddenly. I will be escorting you to the elevator.”
 

The elevator door dings as it opens and I look up to see James. My mouth drops open and my heart is pounding out of my chest. For some reason I am struck with fear. Not of him but fo
r him. James nods at his butler and Randy retreats and heads back to the suite.
 

James is standing in the elevator soaking wet. He motions for me to be quiet with a finger over his lips. His dark eyes are stormy and his strong masculine jaw is clenching.
 

I step in the elevator and the doors close. He speaks in a deep, dark voice, “I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodnight. I am sorry. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
 

“Oh.” That is all I can manage to say in response. I am trying to wrap my head around his unconventional behavior.

He pushes me against the door as the elevator stops suddenly and he kisses my cheek. I can feel his shaky breath on my neck
.  My knees go weak. Our cheeks are touching but we don’t kiss. The sexual tension is thick and I struggle with the appropriate response.
 

“Sleep well
, Sophia. I will see you tomorrow.” He lips caress my hand and he backs out of view as I step out of the elevator. I turn around only to see the doors close and him nowhere to be seen. I miss him already.

I walked out across the marbled floor lobby the same way I entered. But meeting James Hunter has changed everything, myself included.

CHAPTER
3
PARISH COMPOUND

I
hop in the front seat of Alexi’s car that he has pulled around the corner of The Benson. His car is warm, relieving my chill after my walk through the freezing rain of a Portland winter night.
 

“Hey
, Sofa.” Alexi always refers to me as Sofa, it’s his nickname for me. As I said before, no one refers to me by my real name. I don’t even know if they remember it anymore, except for Gabi.  I sometimes feel like I don’t even know who Eva is anymore. She was lost a long time ago, along with my innocence.
 

We drive in Alexi’s Land Rover across the Fremont Bridge towards the Parish Compound in North Portland. I click the seat warmer on and I sit back in the SUV enjoying the heat and the silence of the ride. After my meeting with James I just need some calm and time to clear my head.
 

I can feel Alexi looking at me after we exit the freeway. “Nice hickey Sofa. Looks like he had a good time with you.” He snickers as he moves my hair away from my neck to get a better look. I try to not cringe from his touch. He has used his hands before to hurt me and his touch is like acid.
 

We pull up to the
chain link fence that surrounds the apartment complex. It is an older building, 1980s era. The worn soft pink paint is chipping and there are bars on the windows. We all refer to it as the Parish Compound even though the sign reads Parish Street Apartments.
 

We pull into the Parish Compound and a man
pulls open the gate and waves to Alexi as we enter on the gravel driveway. This place looks like a secure apartment complex to those around us, but the security is a little topsy-turvy. It is not necessarily as much intended to keep people out as it is to keep us in.
 

It is late now and most of the lights are off in the building. I can see Gabi’s light still on in her room. I hope that she is still up so I can fill her in on my interesting new client. I am buzzed into the building and run up the staircase to the third floor and see her door open.
 

Gabi and I met almost seven years ago when I ended up living in this hell-hole. She was 18 and wise beyond her years. It was just before my 16th birthday. I had been living with my dad in Michigan and my life was good. My mom had passed when I was 10 years old after a two year battle with cancer. It was just dad and me after, but it was okay because we had each other.
 

We stuck together like glue through the good times and the bad. My older half-brothers had already moved out and were pretty much out of the picture. It was hard on my dad because he tried to have relationships with them but they were jealous of me. My mom had a short-lived marriage before she met my dad and the two boys were born of that earlier relationship. They lived with their father most of the time but we would see them for weekend visitations.
 

In February
, winter hit Detroit hard. We had to pinch pennies to heat our apartment and keep dinner on the table. Dad had lost his job as a teacher and was substituting at schools all around Detroit as often as he could.

Another burden we had was after my mom had passed we were pretty much up to our eyeballs in hospital bills. The cancer treatments were expensive. My dad never filled me in with the details, but I knew. The collectors would call the house and I would overhear him on the phone talking to the insurance company about things like maximum coverage and  deductibles. Those were tough times but we were happy because we had each other.  
 

It started with a cough when he first got sick. As the weeks progressed he began to get worse. He couldn’t get out of bed by the time we went to the doctor. I finally drove him to the free clinic across town. I had to beg him to let me take him.
 

“Eva, I don’t want to be a burden. I will get better. Nie ma sprawy
.”
It’s no problem
.
 

It was difficult to scrape together any money to go to the clinic because even though it says free, it’s not. Nothing in life is.
 

After waiting two hours to be seen by a doctor, we finally got in. By that time dad could barely breathe because he was so exhausted.
 

The doctor called for a transfer immediately to the nearby Henry Ford Hospital. Memories of my mom laying in that very hospital bed flooded my thoughts.
 

My world was crumbling around me again. First my mom and now my dad. I was going to be all alone.

The doctor and nurse were yammering on and on about getting better care and how the pneumonia has progressed beyond what they could treat. I didn’t hear half of what they were saying. I stood frozen with fear. The deafening sound of blood pumping through my veins in fight or flight mode was disorienting. I kept chanting to myself, “It will all be okay
. It will all be okay.”
 

Dad had pneumonia that had progressed into acute respiratory distress according to the doctor
 and he asked me why we waited so long to come in.  My father is dying and he is giving me a lecture! They told me to prepare for the worst. At best, they warned me, I had a week left with my father.
 

I was thankful for the two weeks I ultimately had in the hospital with him. At first I was hopeful and convinced these doctors didn’t know what they were talking about. I told myself that dad was strong and smart. A few times it looked like he would beat their odds as he would
seem to improve, but then he would get worse again.
 

My two step-brothers Max and Matt came back to visit in the last few days before he passed. They came with flowers and promises.
 

They assured me and my dying father, “We are good boys now with good jobs working with our cousins, Felix and Chase Polski. We are settled in Portland, Oregon. It is a nice city with plenty of jobs and good schools.“
 

I was a fairly good student with almost my junior year of high school completed. They promised dad that I would finish high school and graduate with honors to make him proud. They also promised to keep me safe and sound.
 

I will never forget the relief on my father’s face as he lay in that hospital room on a ventilator and listening to their assurances. His eyes teared up as he squeezed my hand with happiness.
 

We had a nice moment in the room together. My brothers both sat near him and shared stories of where I would be living. They laughed and kissed dad’s cheek telling him, “Don’t worry papa. Eva will be taken care of. We have a nice place for her to stay and Felix has already said that he can help her find work.”
 

Work, indeed. But what kind of work did my two loving brothers really have in store for me?

Later, after it all became clear to me, I realized I had no idea that Max and Matt had turned into such scum. They had always pushed the boundaries and had run-ins with the law. However, I was so naive to their cruelty and greed. And their stories gave my beloved father such a sense of peace during his last hours that it was almost all worth it, at least in the beginning.