Center of Gravity: Compromised Book One, page 1
Center of Gravity
Charlie Cochet
Center of Gravity
Copyright © 2018 Charlie Cochet
http://charliecochet.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of author imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted on the cover is a model.
Cover Art Copyright © 2018 Charlie Cochet
Edited by Desi Chapman
Formatting provided by LesCourt Author Services
www.lescourtauthorservices.com
Assistant Leslie Copeland
lcopelandwrites@gmail.com
Please note that this short story was previously titled The Assassin and The Dog Walker and was published as part of the Heart2Heart anthology. As the anthology is no longer available, and the story universe is being expanded into a series, this story is being offered as the first book in the Compromised series, serving as the prequel.
Due to the nature of the anthology, a specific wordcount was required. The story can be read as a standalone with a HEA. Although the story has gone through additional edits since its original release, no new content has been added.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Coming Soon
A note from the author
Also by Charlie Cochet
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Thank you so everyone who supported the Heart2Heart Anthology, where this little story first appeared. A big thank you to Leslie Copeland for organizing the anthology, to all the amazing folks who made it happen, and the fabulous authors who came together to support LGBTQ charities.
Thank you to all the readers who asked for more, helping me launch this new series. I hope you’re ask excited as I am.
Synopsis
Lymond:
Relationships are a challenge for anyone, but when you’re a deadly assassin leading a double life, losing your heart can mean losing your life. I gave up on happy ever after a long time ago, so when my annoying younger brother Jerrott sets me up on a blind date—through a dating app no less—I’m quick to make my displeasure known. Talked into not letting down the poor loser expecting me to show up, I give in. If anything, I’ll at least get laid. What could it hurt?
Daniel:
What’s wrong with a little romance? For once I’d like to wake up to the sound of a man murmuring sweet nothings in my ear rather than the sound of him hitting the bushes after a swift getaway through my bedroom window. I’m done with gorgeous guys who are nothing but trouble. As it stands, the only boys drooling over me are the playful pups I walk for a living. With Valentine’s Day quickly approaching, I let my bestie talk me into yet another blind date. Is it too much to hope for that I’ll meet the man of my dreams? I guess there’s only one way to find out.
Chapter One
LYMOND
“I’m going to kill you!”
“I hope you mean that figuratively,” Jerrott murmured before taking a sip of his latte, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Taking out your brother would be in such bad taste.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, forcing myself to count down from ten. I will not kill my brother. I will not kill my brother. Our family would surely notice Jerrott’s absence at Christmas dinner if he failed to show up. Damn it.
“You should be thanking me, Lymond. You might actually get laid and relieve some of the tension you carry around on those massive shoulders of yours. When’s the last time you had a date? I’m pretty sure Myspace was all the rage back then.”
“Fuck you,” I growled. “It hasn’t been that long. I’ve told you before; I don’t date.” I leaned in and quietly hissed at my pain-in-the-ass little brother. “Have you forgotten what I do for a living?”
Jerrott rolled his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes at me. The little shit! Screw him. Screw his annoying Armani suit. And screw his pretentious Skinny-Chai-whatever-the-fuck.
“Rather difficult to forget,” Jerrott murmured before taking another sip of his drink. “You haven’t dated since you-know-who. It’s time to get back out there.”
I wasn’t about to comment on the first statement or the clusterfuck that had been my relationship with that psycho, so I focused on his second statement. “A dating app? Seriously, Jer?” The thought alone had me cringing. A dating app? A fucking dating app. “Next thing I know, you’re going to sign me up to be a contender for The Bachelor.” Jerrott smiled knowingly, and I cleared my throat. “Not that I watch that shit.”
“Mm-hm. I’ll have you know this is the hottest dating app on the scene right now.” Jerrott was far too excited for his own good, which was a feat, considering “unimpressed” was his default emotional setting. “It matches you up with the perfect partner.”
“And you didn’t sign yourself up for this why?”
Jerrott scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never had any trouble finding a date. Think of it this way. At least you get a free meal out of it.”
I glared at him.
“It’s Valentine’s Day.”
I glared at him harder.
“Are you really going to stand up some poor guy on Valentine’s Day? I know it means shit to you, but what about that poor man? Maybe he’s shy and sweet and it’s taken him all his life to muster the courage to do something like this, and in one night you’re going to shatter him and his precious little heart.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I was pretty sure I saw the back of my head. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Maybe he has a heart condition, or he has a history of horrible relationships and he can’t take one more rejection. Do you really want to be responsible for crushing this sweet soul?”
“Jesus Christ, you should have gone into acting not law. All right! If it’ll get you to shut up, I’ll do it.” I wanted to punch him in his smug face so bad, but the fancy coffee shop we were in probably frowned upon on that sort of thing.
“Wonderful. Be at that location tonight at 8:00 p.m. sharp.”
“What location?” My phone buzzed, and I checked the screen to find a text from Jerrott. “I loathe you so much right now.”
Jerrott smiled widely, stood, and buttoned his suit jacket, looking every bit the sleek, sophisticated paralegal. “I love you too, big brother. And please wear something that isn’t one of your government suits.”
I looked down at my gray suit, white shirt, and black tie. “What’s wrong with my suits?”
Jerrott sighed like I was too exhausting for words. He patted my shoulder as he walked by. “Have fun, Lymond. I expect to hear all about how achingly romantic it was.”
I would have flipped him off, but the soccer mom in the velour tracksuit sitting at the table in front of me was already giving me the skunk eye. Either that or her ponytail was too tight. I stood, and her eyes went slightly wide as her gaze raked over me. Suddenly she didn’t seem so sure. I had that sort of effect on people. When she lifted her eyes to mine, I smiled and gave her a wink, which made her visibly relax. Once she realized I wasn’t a threat, she stopped looking at me like I was a predator, and suddenly I became the prey. She smiled wide as she crossed her arms on the table, and leaned forward, her breasts meant to draw my attention, and they did. They were very nice as far as breasts went, but they did nothing for me.
With an apologetic smile, I turned and headed for the door. Maybe Jerrott was right. I needed to get laid, and since no one knew me better than my annoying little brother, I was looking at a one-night stand with a guy I could easily forget. Perfect.
Chapter Two
DANIEL
Breathe. Just breathe.
Why the hell was I so nervous? Not like I hadn’t gone on blind dates before. One of these days I intended to put my foot down, and Lissa might actually listen to me. I knew my best friend just wanted to help, but every date I went on ended in disaster. Not because of the guys she picked. It was me. Or so everyone told me. According to my mother, my standards were too high, and outside of a romance novel, I would never find the man of my dreams, so I should stop trying to find Mr. Right, and settle for Mr. Good Enough. Thanks, Mom.
I just wanted was a little romance. Was it too much to ask to be swept off my feet? To be treated like something special and not just a hot piece of ass? Yes, my ass was fabulous, but there were other body parts attached to it. Unfortunately the guys I had a habit of falling for weren’t interested in those parts, especially outside of the bedroom. I had a type. Big, strong, alpha dudes were my kryptonite. A sexy voice and chiseled jaw turned me into a puddle of whimpering need, my resolve vanishing into nothingness—much like the men in my bed did the morning after. It was like they all turned into David fucking Blaine the moment the sun came up.
I
I was done. I wanted more. I wanted someone whose idea of romance consisted of more than a reach-around. I wanted date nights, flowers, and walks in the park. Probably why I was so nervous. This date was different. I’d been set up with my perfect match. When Lissa wore me down into accepting yet another blind date, she assured me this was it. What I’d been waiting for. Everyone was raving about a hot new dating app, and Lissa was convinced the app would select the guy for me, so like the hopeless romantic my friends accused me of being—as if that was a bad thing—here I stood in front of the upscale steakhouse.
The restaurant took up two floors, the outside themed in red and black with large windows so you could see the elegant décor inside. I mentally hiked up my big boy pants and walked in, passing the cozy bar packed with people to the hostess stand and the lovely young woman who greeted me warmly when I approached. I gave her my name, and she beamed at me.
“Your date hasn’t arrived, Mr. Anderson, but why don’t I take your coat and show you to your table? I’m sure he’ll be along any minute,” she said cheerfully, exchanging my black pea coat for half of a ticket. I slipped it into my pocket and took a deep breath, smoothing down my favorite blue slim-fit shirt, which had tiny polka dots. I had my cuffs turned up to my elbows and shirttail tucked into my navy dress slacks. The brown leather belt I wore matched my brown brogues. It had taken me hours to get my blond hair to look perfectly disheveled. I even brought out the big guns and applied a hint of lip gloss to my lips.
As the hostess led me toward the back of the restaurant and down a small set of stairs to the dining area, I smiled excitedly. It was just like a scene out of a movie. The atmosphere was warm, the tables lit by candlelight, the dining area filled with couples chatting and laughing as sweeping violins played unobtrusively through the speakers. By the time we reached the table, I had butterflies in my stomach, and they were going nuts. I thanked the hostess and took the seat facing away from the door. If I sat in the chair across, I wouldn’t be able to stop staring at the door and wondering if every guy who walked in was my date.
The table for two was impeccable, with crisp white tablecloths, a white pillar candle, and a slim glass vase with a long-stem rose. The dining area continued the restaurant’s black-and-red theme with red walls lined with black-framed photographs of all the celebrities who’d dined there. The wall sconces and the dimmed lights on the tufted red ceiling provided an intimate atmosphere. It was perfect, with just one tiny thing missing. My date. I swallowed hard and discreetly looked at my watch. Five minutes to eight. The waiter stopped by and poured me some water.
“I’m a little early,” I told him, wringing my fingers underneath the table where they were hidden by the tablecloth.
“I’m sure they’ll be along any minute,” the waiter assured me kindly.
I thanked him and took a sip of water. Just because my date hadn’t arrived didn’t mean he wouldn’t show up. If this guy really was my perfect match, then he’d be here and on time. Punctuality was important to me. At five past eight, I started to get a little worried. I told myself it was fine. The guy probably got stuck in traffic. Fifteen minutes later, the waiter returned, his gaze sympathetic. Oh God, what if I’d been stood up? Or worse, what if my date had shown up, took one glance at me, and thought I looked too high-maintenance. Fuck, Blaze. I was not high-maintenance. Just because I liked to look good and took care of myself didn’t make me high-maintenance. Now is not the time to be thinking about douche ex-boyfriends.
“Would you like to order a wine or spirit while you wait?” the waiter asked.
I smiled even though I was dying a little inside. No. I couldn’t die. I had to be alive to strangle my best friend. “Yes, please. I’ll have a cosmo.” Or ten.
“Right away.”
One cosmo turned into three, and I wasn’t sure if the heat in my cheeks was from the alcohol or the humiliation of knowing I’d been stood up. On Valentine’s Day. Fuck this. I threw my napkin on the table, about to get up when a shadow swept over me. Something large and dark brushed by, and I gave a start, my eyes widening as a man who had to be at least six and a half feet tall, dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and black tie took the seat across from me. His shoulders were impossibly wide, his chest expansive, and his biceps strained against the fabric of his suit jacket when he leaned forward to move his chair up. His hair was as black as his suit, his chiseled jaw full of stubble, and he had wide kissable lips. He was gorgeous. His liquid silver eyes held mine, and he took my breath away. I was gone faster than a printer on sale at Walmart on Black Friday. Fuck. Something had clearly gone wrong with my date matchup, because while the man sitting in front of me was nothing short of a walking wet dream, he was everything I’d been trying to avoid.
I opened my mouth to introduce myself, but nothing came out, so I closed it. He peered at me like I was an idiot, and I suddenly found my voice.
“You’re late.”
Both eyebrows shot up, and he sat back. Was that amusement in his eyes? Seriously? Okay, we were clearly not off to a good start. I remembered my mother’s advice and decided to go easy on the guy. Just because he was fit and gorgeous did not mean he was an asshole. I didn’t know anything about this man and should therefore withhold judgement. For all I knew, he could have had some kind of emergency or gotten held up at work. It wasn’t like he had my number to let me know he was running late. The fact he hadn’t apologized didn’t mean he was a thoughtless jerk. I smiled brightly and held my hand out to him.
“I’m Daniel. It’s nice to meet you.”
He held my gaze, then dropped his eyes to my hand as if seriously considering whether he should take it or not. After some hesitation, he took it, his grip firm and his big hand enveloping mine, sending a delicious shiver through me. I wanted to crawl onto his lap and purr. Come on, man. At least try and pretend you have some self-control.
“I’m Lymond,” he replied, releasing my hand.
“Limon? Isn’t that Spanish for lemon?”
“What?”
There was that look again. Like he was trying to work out if I was an idiot or not. It made me bristle, but I pushed it down and kept a polite smile plastered on my face.
“Limon. It means lemon in Spanish.”
“Not Limón,” he said, enunciating the word for me in perfect Spanish. “Lymond. He was my mother’s favorite fictional character, and she named me after him.”
“Oh. Well, that’s sweet.” The waiter brought us the menus, and I almost lunged at him in thanks for the interruption. I needed a do-over. Badly. Thankfully, I was able to regroup myself when he handed me a long leather menu big enough for me to hide behind. We ordered dinner, and Lymond ordered some fancy beer. Then we were on our own again.
“You speak Spanish?” I asked, sticking to polite conversation.
“Yes.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. I nodded, and took another sip of my cosmo, trying not to squirm in my seat as he studied me. What was he looking for? It occurred to me that if my matchup was wrong, maybe his was too. The thought had me groaning inwardly. Great. The guy was probably wishing he was anywhere else but here.
“So, what do you do?” Lymond asked, his gaze penetrating. How was it possible to want to lick someone and punch them in their stupidly handsome face at the same time?
