What?
Why is he angry?
He isn’t allowed to feel that way. I am the one who is mad here. Not him.Hewas the one who did everything wrong.
* * *
“What happened to Eli Parker?” I wonder aloud after the initial shock has worn off and more unanswered questions keep running in my head.
When did he remove his lip ring? Is he single? Does he still play guitar?
It seems like he does, as I just spotted his old guitar in the corner of this room.
What does Eli think of me right now? Are those black horn-rimmed glasses real or fake? How long did it take him to get those muscular arms?
The obvious answer is seven years.
Does he have more tattoos than back then?What about Ollie and Jax? Do they still keep in touch?
Rose, focus now!
Eli looks like he’s trying to find the right words to answer me. He takes a sip of his water. “He no longer exists, just like Maggie Summers. Honestly, I wanted to get rid of the reminders of my life before the fire. I guess you did the same after leaving our hometown. I couldn’t find you on social media. It all makes sense now,” he comments and drinks more from the bottle. “I was thinking of getting my name changed after way too many beers. It happened to be a Bond movie night, and they were showing the one from 1989. Dalton isn’t my favorite Bond, but I liked his name for some reason. That was it. Elijah Dalton was born.”
Unable to control my reaction to what he just told me, I roll my eyes as Eli walks to the dry bar next to the massive fireplace. Opening one of the many crystal bottles, he takes a long and slow breath and pours amber liquid in one of the tumblers. I guess it’s one of those days when a person just thinksfudge it—it’s five o’clock somewhereand drinks whiskey around noon.
“Do you want anything to drink before we start the interview?” Eli questions, looking back my way. I can’t believe he just assumed that I would stay—no way in hell.
“Who said I still want to interview you?” I reply with distaste, fidgeting with my hands. I can barely keep my body reactions in check when anxious. Having him close is torture. “There’s no reason I should stay, Eli.”
“Well, isn’t that what you do for a living? You write for one of the most well-known magazines. It isn’t a part of your brand to skip an opportunity like this. An all-inclusive interview with themighty Elijah Dalton.” He snarls, repeating Andrew’s words from earlier.
And remember, this is an incredible opportunity for you.
I can’t leave, even though I would love nothing more right now. Keeping my mouth shut with effort, I walk toward him and take a tumbler with my left hand. He pours me three fingers of whatever we are drinking. I’m not complaining. I need this.
“Cheers,” he says, the side of his mouth quirks upward in his signature smirk.For a moment, he looks like his 18-year-old self again.Why does he torture me like this?
We clink our glasses, and I take a long sip of whiskey.Damn, that burns nicely, just like my cheeks always burn around him. Glancing at Eli from the corner of my eye, I can confirm that he’s still one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen. There’s no denying it. He fills his clothes perfectly. His laid-back but groomed look must get him anything he wants. He’s probably a walking wet dream of many people around the world.
I turn around to look at the view out of his apartment more closely. The place has enormous windows showing Manhattan and the rest of the city around us. Even though I’ve been to various places, this is one of the most spectacular views I’ve ever seen. It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, and the wind blows against the windows, you can still spot some landmarks and the river from his living room. I love this city more than any other place on this earth. I wish I were here in his penthouse apartment later in the evening to see all the lights.
Wait, I am not spending any time here during the night! I must stop these thoughts before they get out of hand.I need to think about the interview and nothing else.
“You always had that cute deep blush. I’m happy to see that I still affect you just like back then,” Eli whispers, standing behind me.I gasp at his proximity and drop my tumbler, the glass shattering and liquid spilling all around us. Of course, one of those shards cuts my right foot a bit—just my luck. The drink also covers my heels, ruining them.
Now I’m getting irritated instead of enjoying the view. “Dammit. Look what you did. I hate being surprised from behind as much as I hate it when people touch me without permission.” I let out a high-pitched yell while getting away from him. It takes all my focus to avoid stepping on the glass shards and the rest of my drink.
This is beyond embarrassing.
My cheeks are burning even more, and I feel a shortness of breath. Eli notices my reaction and slowly leaves the room. He comes back with a first aid kit, a broom, and an entire bottle of whiskey.
“Sit down. Now.” He bosses me like I’m one of his employees.
Huffing, I carefully walk over and sit down on one of the couches in his living room. Meanwhile, Eli cleans the glass and the liquid off the floor. After finishing the quick cleanup, he drops down to the couch and turns to me.
“Can I touch you? That cut should be cleaned before we continue,” Eli murmurs. His softer-than-before voice makes me relax a bit.
Nodding my head, I feel a sudden excitement about the idea that he will be touching me after all these years. Adding that to the intense arousal I feel whenever making direct eye contact with him, my heart pumps away with help from all the chemicals in my body.
