Lamented Pasts, page 7
part #1 of Timeless Affection Series
"Don't bother," I tell them. "I need to be getting back to my date. I'm sure he's looking for me."
"He isn't," the man responds coolly. "He's been heavily incentivized to leave and forget your name. No need to hurry back."
I'm infuriated, and backstep to see out on the floor. From my vantage point I can see that my table does indeed still sit empty. I take back everything I said about Daniel being a sweet boy. He's obviously nothing but a spineless worm.
My eyes are immediately drawn back towards the man and I amend my thoughts. A boy like Daniel wouldn't stand a chance against a predator like this. I don't stand a chance against a man like this. However, I'm still not going to let him get away from scaring my date off on a date I took years to even dare to go on.
"I don't appreciate you 'incentivizing' my date," I tell him sarcastically.
"Sit down," he orders in a voice that leaves no room for argument.
My feet seem to move on their own accord until all of a sudden, I find that I'm sitting across the table from him.
We sit in a silent standoff until finally he almost knocks me over by flashing me a warm, charming smile. He holds out his hand to me.
"I'm Landon," he says.
I hesitate before reaching out to shake his hand. It feels like more of a binding contract for a deal I'm not sure what the terms are, rather than a simple handshake. He brings my hand to his mouth, and brushes his lips against my skin. I break out in goosebumps, and I realize that my chest feels fluttery. It's been so long since my heart has been capable of feeling anything that I don't recognize the sensation for what it is at first. Attraction.
"Juliet," I whisper, in a voice that comes out more choked than I would have liked.
"Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly then your love would also change," he tells me confusingly, and it takes me a moment to realize that he's quoting from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Clara's a big fan of Shakespeare so she has me reading all of his work.
"Were your parents big Shakespeare fans?" he asks.
"Something like that," I respond, unable to tell him that I was actually born over a hundred years before the play was written.
"What are you?" I blurt out.
He raises one eyebrow at me.
"What do you mean, "what am I?"" he asks.
I gesture to the entourage that remains standing or sitting close to our table. Most of them are watching us with rapt expressions. I turn back to him and roll my eyes.
"Just in the last ten minutes I've seen more guns, diamonds, and money than I've ever seen in this life. Are you some sort of politician or something?"
He gives me a huge smirk.
"Something like that," he says smugly, spitting my earlier words back at me.
Seeing that I'm at a dead end with that line of conversation, I move on.
"Why am I here?" I ask softly. He looks at me so intently I feel like he can see everything I keep so carefully hidden.
"You're here because I make sure that I always get what I want, and when I saw you across the room tonight, smiling at that schoolboy, I suddenly found that I had never wanted anything quite so bad in my life."
I'm frozen at his words, but before I can come up with anything to say, one of his men comes to our table and whispers something in Landon's ear. Anger flashes across his face, and I see the whites of his knuckles as he momentarily clenches his fists. A moment later his face is so blank it feels like I just imagined it all.
"I have to attend to some business," he says, and I'm immediately intrigued by what "business" he needs to attend to at midnight. "I'll pick you up tomorrow," he orders, and I'm again in shock at his audacity.
He stands up and leans over me, brushing his lips against my cheek. I hear him inhale and I realize that he's smelling me. It feels...interesting.
"Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow," he whispers to me, once again catching me off guard by the fact that this fierce, powerful man is actually sweetly quoting Shakespeare in my ear.
"I'll see you soon, Juliet," he says in a voice so low, I might have imagined it. He then swiftly walks away with a bark at a few of his companions who jump up to follow him.
One of the other men that was with him ushers me out of the front of the club, where a black Chrysler is waiting. He opens the door for me, and then gets into the passenger seat of the car, bellowing an order at the driver. Without asking for my address, we arrive at Clara's deli. We live above it as most shopkeepers in the area do. The man gets out of the passenger seat, and opens the car door. I feel like I'm having an out of body experience as he nods at me and waits for me to get inside the deli before the car pulls away. How did they already know where I live? A delicious thrill trickles down my back. What have I gotten myself into?
Landon Torrio
I awake the next morning, sure that I had dreamed up everything from the night before and am actually suffering from delusions brought about by a high fever or something. I go through the motions of getting ready to work in the deli, and walk downstairs.
Clara is behind the counter, holding a large, wrapped package, and wearing a big grin on her face.
"You have an admirer," she all but yells, her smile growing ever wider with her delight. She wipes away a grey streaked strand of hair that has escaped from her usual bun, and walks towards me with the package. I take a moment to soak her in. She's become home to me. She's petite, perhaps one of the smallest women I have ever seen, but what she lacks in height, she makes up for in personality. At fifty, her looks are starting to age, but her youthful exuberance for life hasn't faded a bit.
I walk towards her and take the package, unable to keep myself from smiling back at her.
"Open it," she says with a clap, and what looks suspiciously like a jump for joy.
I examine the package. The wrapping paper is thick and silver, with a red ribbon wrapped around it. There's a small note tucked into the ribbon, and my hands are shaking slightly as I read the message.
Wear this. I'll see you at 7.
-L
Carefully, I tear open the package, aware of Clara's eyes focused intently on me. The package reveals a white box. I lift the lid and see what looks like a gorgeous red dress folded neatly within it. I unfold it and hold it up to myself, walking to a mirror that sits on the wall so that Clara can see what's going on in the store even when she's preparing food on the counter.
The dress is sleeveless and is so long that I will have to wear heels to keep it from hitting the ground. It cuts low in the front and cinches around the waist. It's the most exquisite dress I've seen since my wedding dress. The thought immediately sobers me, and I fold up the dress and place it back in the box. It's a betrayal to the love that I shared with James for me to even think about going out with Landon.
"Juliet?" Clara asks softly.
I clear my throat, trying to hold in the tears that are waiting to fall.
"Can you please return it whenever the delivery person comes by again?" I ask, my voice quivering.
Clara comes up to me, and softly takes my face in her hands. She's so tiny that she has to stand on her toes in order to look me in the eyes.
"It's time for you to start living again, my girl. You need to let go of the past," she says in a whisper that still manages to cut straight to my heart.
"What if I can't?" I ask, just as softly.
"One day you'll wake up, and the pain will only be a memory. You won't even be able to remember how you got to that point, only that you're happy once again."
She smiles at me with tears in her eyes.
"But you have to take that first step."
We stare at each other for a moment, and I feel a small glimmer of hope start to form in my chest, followed by the memory of how dangerous Landon must be to require all the guns I saw last night. I see Landon in my head. He's so overwhelmingly male that I feel intimidated just thinking of him.
"I think he's dangerous," I tell Clara. She just gives me a wink and let's go of my face.
"All the best ones are, my darling," she says as the bell above the door rings, signaling that a customer has arrived.
I hurry and take the dress up to my room so that I can help Clara with the rush of customers that will be starting to come in at any moment now. I have all day to decide if I'm going tonight. It would probably be good for Landon if I didn't go because thinking about it...who just demands that someone go on a date? I want to refuse just on the principle of it.
Despite my best intentions, when the clock strikes 6:45, I'm wearing the red dress and finishing up my makeup. The color of the dress brings a rosy glow out of my cheeks. I don't look like the zombie that I usually resemble. My long black hair has been carefully curled and pinned out of my face. It looks nothing like the hairstyles that the other girls wear, and normally I could care less. However tonight I find myself wondering if Landon will notice...if he still thinks I'll look pretty like this. I'm debating whether to attempt one of the intricate hairstyles I've seen, when I hear the bell on the front door ring, and then the deep voice of Landon talking to Clara.
I'm excited, yet I'm out of my league. Insecurities threaten to break down my carefully constructed wall of confidence, but this will be good for me. It will.
I swallow my angst and slip into my only pair of heels, grabbing my clutch before turning to go downstairs. I get about halfway down the stairs when Clara's voice makes me pause, and I decide to unabashedly eavesdrop.
"I've heard of what kind of man you are, Landon Torrio. If you hurt one hair on her head, I will chop off your balls while you're sleeping."
I stifle a gasp at hearing sweet, tiny Clara making such a threat. The knowledge that I have someone protecting me in this cold, frightening new world I've found myself in brings tears to my eyes. I dab at them, not wanting to smear the makeup that I've carefully applied, while waiting to hear what Landon says in response. If it's anything but kind, I'll be the one chopping his balls off, and I won't wait until he's sleeping either.
"I have a feeling that hurting Juliet would be like hurting myself, and as a life rule I don't make a habit of doing that," he replies to Clara.
Although his comment seems odd to me, it must be sufficient for Clara because as I finish coming down the stairs, I see that she's cutting Landon a slice of her homemade peach pie. Clara only gives away pieces of her pie to people she likes, so he must have passed the test.
I drag my eyes away from Clara to look at Landon...and promptly almost trip on my heels. Delicious is the first word that I think of. Maybe it's because I was just thinking about Clara's peach pie, but I could definitely eat Landon Torrio.
He's wearing a perfectly fitted three-piece, black suit over a white collared shirt that showcases his gold skin. His gleaming, ebony hair is slicked back, and just like the night before I get the urge to dig my fingers in it and mess it up.
When I finally finish devouring him with my eyes and actually look at his face, I immediately flush. He looks just as hungry as how I feel. He looks like he wants to possess me, to own my every thought. It's very disconcerting.
He clears his throat and schools his face, returning to the cool and collected man from the night before. I immediately want to do something, anything to unsettle his perfect exterior.
He holds out his hand to me, his other hand clutching the plate of peach pie that Clara just handed him. I hesitate for a second, wondering if I'm really ready to take this next step, a step that feels miles away from James.
I will myself to not think about James just for an hour, to give myself a chance to be in the moment rather than in the past. As I reach out my hand to grasp his, I know my life is about to be irrevocably changed.
There's a shiny black Rolls Royce waiting for us outside of the deli. It looks out of place in our humble burrow, and I can't help but compare it to Clara's worn Model T. I get a thrill of excitement as Landon helps me into the buttery, leather seats. A suited man standing by the car gets in next to the driver as we take off. I also notice two other nondescript, black cars following ours as we drive down the street. They're just another reminder of how different Landon's world is...how dangerous it is.
Landon won't tell me where we are going, and we sit in silence as we drive. Landon isn't the kind of man who engages in small talk. He's not like James who had that ability to make anyone feel at ease regardless of your standing in his kingdom. Landon's every move is designed to do the opposite. He wants to intimidate you, to make sure you know your place. It both raises my hackles and attracts me all at once.
We drive out of the City and there's a part of me that wonders if I'm about to meet my imminent death off some remote road. We pull down a long private road and my worry intensifies. I sit up straighter in my seat, my eyes flickering towards the door wondering if I could open it and escape before we stop.
Landon gives an amused chuckle. "What's wrong with you?" he asks in a tone that tells me he knows exactly what I'm thinking.
"Want to tell me where we're going so I don't try to escape?" I ask him.
He laughs, and I can't help but smile at the sound. Every time he laughs it's like I startled the laugh out of him. It feels like an achievement every time it happens.
"Just be patient for a minute more. You've been doing such a good job of it," he tells me.
I shrug non-committedly, but don't make any sudden breaks for the door.
A few minutes later the car pulls up to large estate. It's dark and menacing, just like the man who is currently offering me his hand to help me out of the car.
I coolly examine the mansion as he helps me out. If he's trying to impress me with how wealthy he is, he's going to be sorely disappointed. I was once the lover of one of the wealthiest men in the world. I'm not easily impressed by wealth. It's power, not wealth that attracts me, and it's that trait that Landon has in his favor.
Landon surprises me when he bypasses the entrance of the grey-stoned manor, and leads me around it where I am delighted to discover that the manor features ocean front property.
We walk down a long private dock where a small yacht is waiting. There's another suited man waiting by the yacht, and two others following a few feet behind us. Landon ignores them all as he helps me onto the boat.
Black and grey seems to be Landon's color pallet of choice as the whole ship is adorned with the two colors. The ship is painted a glossy black and the gleaming wood floors are stained black as well. The decorations and furniture are all a mix of the two colors, and the suited men are easily able to blend into the interior as they board the ship after us.
I realize that my crimson dress is the only real color on the whole ship and I wonder if Landon planned that. Something tells me that he did.
Landon mutters something to one of the waitstaff who approaches us as soon as we get on board. He then takes my hand and leads me to a black leather couch where we sit and watch as the yacht leaves the shore.
"I find there are two types of people," he says in a serious, quiet voice as he looks out to the horizon. "Those who are afraid of the sea, and those who love the sea but respect its power. Which one are you, Juliet?"
The question catches me off guard although my answer comes to me quickly. My father instilled me with a healthy respect for the sea since his trade lived or died by her whimsies. The time I spent by the sea with James made me forever love her.
"The second," I reply, and the emotion that unintentionally bleeds into my answer makes him turn his gaze towards me where he studies me intently.
"So many secrets," he tells me. "I'm going to enjoy stripping you bare and discovering each and every one."
I have no doubt of Landon's ability to do just that. Whether he will believe any of my so-called secrets is another thing all together.
I find myself comparing Landon and James once again. Although I was nothing in society's eyes compared to James, I always felt like his partner. I have no doubt in my mind that if I had been allowed to stay with him, that he would have valued my insight, that I would have had more power as a woman than any queen up to that point. Landon's dominance on the other hand, gave me the urge to say, 'yes sir' and bow submissively at his feet. Landon may have not been a king, but he was the master of his domain and if I stayed on this course, he would be the master of me.
As much as I knew I should balk at that thought, there was a part of me that welcomed the chance for someone to take care of me and tell me what to do. This new world had been such a rude awakening. I often had felt so alone that the thought of someone making the decisions for me, of taking care of me...well frankly it sounded wonderful.
The waiter rouses me from my thoughts by bringing a tray filled with champagne. Landon hands me mine, and then we clink our glasses together in a toast.
"To you," he said, surprising me. "For filling my world with the first color that it's had in a very long time."
It's a sweet sentiment that doesn't seem to fit the gruff, powerful man sitting beside me. I take a long sip of my champagne, trying to quell my nerves.
The sunset paints the sky with a million glorious colors and I savor its beauty as we feast on perfectly cooked steak and lobster. From time to time, I notice the men in suits come by and hand Landon notes, or whisper things in his ears. He is quick to send them away despite the work that I know is building up.
"You don't get much time to relax, do you?" I finally ask him after I watch him crumple up yet another note that one of them has brought by.
"This is one of the only ways that I can relax, out here away from everything. My empire never sleeps."
I'm trying to drag up the courage to ask him about his work, I've read enough in the newspaper to know that it's going to be something unsavory, when he abruptly stands and holds out his hand to me.
