Inferno: Part 1 (5 page)

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.

Shayne 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.

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 repertoire 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.

“You can sleep on the couch, but that’s it,” she winces and then turns around.

She shuts the door to her bedroom and I sit trying to think, but my brain can’t process anything right now, so I lay down. The couch isn’t velvet, but it’s comfy. Very squishy.

And so I fall asleep.

Mila

It’s been almost a month since Bryce banged on my door, drunk and smelling like another woman’s perfume. He passed out on my couch and in the morning, once he was sober, I gave him a choice: either give me some space, or I leave Inferno.

Part of me expected him to argue or fight back, but he listened quietly, nodding every so often, and when I was done he put on his shoes and left. I haven’t seen him since.

A small piece of me was shocked that he left right then and there. I’m only just now able to admit to myself that maybe I wanted him to fight for me. But that only happens in books.

My shifts at the Inferno are much less notable. Shayne is still friendly, Alexa is cordial but distant, and everything at work seems…dull.

Dull can be peaceful. Uneventful. But it can mean boredom and that breeds bad decisions. However, my schoolwork is improving, and now not only do I have the worries over rent off my shoulders, but my GPA is safely above the requirement.

I still have to save up money for next semester, since my scholarship doesn’t cover housing and books and food, but maybe I’ll be able to pay Bryce back eventually. I try not to think about it, just focusing on work, school, and Dad.

He’s doing better, but is still in the hospital. That will be more money we don’t have, so although I think of him often, it always makes me focus harder on work.

I’m rubbing down the bar when I see what looks like Bryce, surrounded by—of course—gorgeous women.

“Shayne, look—Bryce is back,” I say softly.

Leaning over the bar, Shayne squints, then shakes his head. “No, but they look damn similar. That’s his brother, Phillip.”

I don’t want to admit that my hopes are crushed, and my sudden excitement quickly disappears.

The night drags on, filling beers and serving fruity mixed drinks. We’re busy, even without Bryce, and before the last person leaves it’s already twenty minutes after my shift ends. I still need to finish my list before I leave for the night.

I pull off my apron, count my tips, tuck the bills neatly in my purse and grab a notepad and pen. As I make my way to one of the tables something pulls my attention to the front entrance.

It’s a familiar feeling, one that I could never forget.

He must not have expected I’d still be here, because Bryce is standing right before me. He looks surprised when he sees my face, but I can’t hide how happy I am to see him. I smile and he walks over, without any hesitation in his steps.

“You’ve been gone so long,” I say quietly, not accusing, just letting him know I missed him.

“You can’t imagine how hard it’s been.” He lets the back of his hand trail down my cheek.

“I beg to differ,” I say looking him directly in the eyes.

“Should we catch up? We can have a drink at my place.” His hand slips underneath my chin and he holds it so I’m looking up at him.

The angel on one shoulder repeats platitudes about not mixing business and pleasure, while the devil on my other shoulder prods me forward with his pitchfork.

I’m stuck in between.

This isn’t about pleasure—something deeper pulls me to Bryce. He’s more than a rich playboy. And I’m falling for the man behind the celebrity.

My tiny rebuff is that I need to study, which I do, but Bryce insists that I’ve earned a break. And so I follow him out into the night air, in the opposite direction of my home and my books.

***

There’s electricity in the air, and it sparks every time our hands touch or our eyes meet. There’s a comfortable silence lingering between us, one that implies that there’s nothing left to say about the events of that one night. In our absence from one another each of us resolved our own emotions.

When he takes off my coat his hands trail down my arms and my stomach does somersaults. Slowly he unbuttons my shirt, always going back to my eyes to make sure it’s okay. Delicately, he slides the shirt off my shoulders until the last remnants of it sweep past my fingertips.

Reverently, he unzips my skirt and slides it to the floor. I stand before him in plain black underwear and bra. He looks like a man lost in the desert who has just discovered an oasis.

His eyes drink me in, and beneath his fitted jeans I see a bulge grow. As if in a trance I stand there, frozen, while he begins to kiss my body. My shoulders, my elbows, my palms—all are anointed. Then my collarbone, the hollow between my breasts, my stomach. He kneels, kissing up one leg, stopping just before my knees give out, then starts on the other leg.

Taking pity on me, he carries me to his bedroom. He gently places me on his bed. It’s surprisingly warm, with a soft white quilt and dove-grey walls. He lights a row of candles, then begins to take off his clothes.

I have seen Bryce in the ring, I know what his body looks like. Every muscle is chiseled—not to the point of looking bulky, but just strong. Something is different here. All the muscles are relaxed. His skin has a beautiful tan luster in the candlelight, instead of the sheen of sweat he gets in the ring. Around his eyes, there are no frown lines, his face is peaceful, and I see the real Bryce Cole.

When he takes off his pants and boxers, my mouth goes dry and I feel a tightening between my legs. There’s a beautiful symmetry to his body, a narrowness through his hips. And his manhood is thick and strong. Long enough to test my limits. Perfect, I realize. He looks perfect.

It seems like such a long time since I’ve been with someone, and just the sight of Bryce makes me ready. He slides next to me on the bed. One hand cradles my neck while his lips gently part mine. I suck in every breath he exhales and get lost in the rhythm of our tongues dancing together.

His hand glides down my body, over my breast, across my hip, and then sweeps over to the spot I’ve been aching for him to touch.

His fingers swirl across me and my breathing hitches. Just when I feel like I might explode from the intensity of everything, he slides two fingers into me and feels how slick I am.

“You are so beautiful, Mila. I want you all to myself,” he says in a deep, breathy voice before moving over me.

I’m all sensation as he cages me, his arms and legs surrounding me. He nips at my neck and I stroke his back, marveling over his perfectly smooth skin. When he moves to suck on my breast, his thick manhood drags along my leg, and it’s all I can do not to scream as my nerves go into sensory overload. He sees my struggle, and gently trails just the tip along my leg, from knee to waist, inching closer to my middle with every lap.

My body convulses in pleasure, and he finally takes pity on me. Our eyes meet as he slides into me. I am the lock and he is my key—nothing could fit better.

He stretches me just to the brink, rocking deep inside with long, sensual strokes. Just when I think I’m at my limit he begins a more forceful rhythm as he traces rapid circles on my clitoris.

I’ve never been filled like this before, taken over from the inside and out, and my heartbeat speeds up, my breaths become ragged, and my hands knot themselves in the sheets as we come together, him nested deep inside, me clutching around him as the waves of my orgasm shake me to the core.

I can’t fathom what I just experienced at first. My back is slightly sweaty, the sheets feel hot, but I cannot move. Bryce collapses next to me, resting his head on my chest, and slowly my heartbeat returns to normal. The stars fade from my vision, and I come back down to Earth finding this God is real, and still lying with me.

Pleasure can be exhausting, and he barely draws the silky sheets over us before I am dead to the world.