Bang (A Club Deep Story)(18)

I'd definitely remember if I'd seen this man before.

"You need to be more careful," he says, and my heart skips a beat. Careful of what? Of him?

I extend a hand, trying to ward off the tingles racing along my spine. I  can't tell if I'm just feeling jumpy after seeing those guys, or if  it's the close proximity of one of the hottest men I've ever seen that's  setting me off now.

He grips my hand and holds on, not shaking, just tightening his grasp  around my fingers. I gasp a little, and he takes another step toward me.  He's just inches away now, and I can see his chest hitching with  effort. Effort from what?

His eyes bore into me. They're ice blue, the palest I've ever seen, and  his gaze pins me to the spot. Before I can react, he shifts his grip,  loosening it, and turning his hand.         

     



 

My cheeks flare bright red as he intertwines his fingers in mine. His  mouth loosens, just enough to let a small smirk show through his  otherwise stoic expression. "Sweet girls like you shouldn't wander these  streets alone so late. You might run into trouble."

I swallow hard, all too aware of his gaze lingering on my lips. "Maybe."  I lift an eyebrow, putting on a smirk of my own. "But luckily there are  men like you around to save me when I do."

He laughs, just once, low and deep in his throat. "You've got it all  wrong," he says, his smirk widening. "I'm the trouble, not the savior.  And those boys back there, they couldn't harm you the way I could."

I take a step back now, colliding once more with the brick wall behind  me. But he matches me, step for step, until I feel penned in again,  breathless with fear. He's so close I can smell him, but unlike the boys  earlier, it's not a bad thing. His scent is rich, heady. Something like  pine trees, sharp as new snow, and addictive. I breathe in, savoring  it, even as my heart pounds and my vision goes hazy with a rush of  adrenaline.

"Why would you want to harm me?" I ask, and there's a slight tremor in  my voice. Despite the fact that he just saved me, I can't help feeling a  fresh thrill of fear trickle through my veins. Is he the good guy or a  bad one in disguise? "You don't even know me."

"No," he admits, tilting his head. Studying me. Drinking me in. "But I'm  acquainted with your father," he says, and that's when I really shiver.

Shit.

He must notice the way my eyes widen. He surely feels the tremble in my  hand, still holding his. He chuckles again, louder this time. "Yes, Miss  Badiary. I'm well aware of all the terrible deeds your father has  signed onto. Either committed himself or ordered to have done. All the  ways he's terrorized and lorded his power over other people. The  innocent bystanders he's trampled in his mad dash for power." The man  shakes his head, his gaze turning wistful, almost regretful, for a  moment. "He needs to be careful, your father. Because eventually the day  will come when he won't be able to dodge his comeuppance anymore."

He leans in close to me, his lips a breath away. So close I could tilt  my chin up and meet them. But everything in me is trembling, scared,  breathless.

Is it just fear? Even now, I feel something else curling below the surface. Something suspiciously like desire.

"One day, even a powerful man like Calvin Badiary will pay the price for  ruining the lives of others." His hot breath ghosts across my cheeks as  he says this. His gaze is locked on mine, his smirk gone, his mouth  returned to that thin, hard line. He lets go of my hand, but trails his  fingers up the back of my wrist, tracing up my arm to my elbow. Slowly,  but I can feel every inch burn through me like flames.

I don't understand this feeling. Why I am terrified and excited in equal  measure. Why I want to run and also to lean forward and catch him the  way he's catching me.

"You're too sweet for your own good, Pamona," he murmurs, and I tense,  startled at the sound of my name on his lips. He really does know me.  Not just as Calvin's daughter, but my name, my face. Has he been  following me?

"You're a little innocent doll." His fingertips reach my cheek and cup it gently. "And dolls like you can end up broken."

With that, he drops his fingers from my face and turns around. Strides  up the alley, leaving me breathless, leaning against the wall, my whole  body shaking.

Only when he's gone do I let myself slide down the wall to sit, running my hands through my hair.

What the hell just happened? I wonder.

One day, even a powerful man like Calvin Badiary will pay the price, he said. I wonder what kind of price he means, exactly …





1





Present




I toss the last dress into my trunk, grinning. Tonight is finally the  night. It's been a long and crazy lead-up-first convincing Dad that I'd  be fine going to college in California, so far away from him, and then  managing all the details from here. He only let me visit once last year,  to scope out the campus before I made my final decision. It was an  awesome time, especially to hang out with Cece in her native territory.  Normally, I only see her and Mom when they come to visit New York since  Dad doesn't like me traveling alone, and he doesn't like leaving town  himself.         

     



 

Cece's still wilder than I am, though once I hung out with her in  person, I realized that a lot of the photos she sends me bragging about  her crazy adventures are exaggerated. Even though I'm 21 and she's only  19, she already drinks more than I do, but that's just 2-3 drinks per  party, and then she's back home by one or two in the morning. I'd been a  little nervous that I wouldn't be able to keep up with her, but we had  fun. Heck, I think a few guys were even flirting with me.

I wonder if any of the guys who attended the open campus weekend decided  to enroll there, and if so, whether any of them will be in my classes.  Maybe I'll run into them at orientation tomorrow-tomorrow, I think,  still stunned by how quickly my life is changing.

For as long as I can remember, I've been the princess that Dad kept  locked in his tower. Stuck on this sprawling estate, only allowed out to  go to school or school-sponsored events. I want to stretch my wings,  travel, and now that I'm finally off to college, it's about time to do  that.

I grin at my suitcases, proud of myself. I managed to fit everything  I'll need for the year into two suitcases-though admittedly, pretty  large ones. Anything else I need, Dad has assured me I can charge it to  him when I get to campus.

"That includes a plane ticket home if you change your mind," he added  when he gave me the credit card, and from the worried look in his eyes  and the crease between his brows, I don't think he was 100% joking about  that.

Well, sorry Dad, but I won't be changing my mind, I think as I zip my suitcase closed for the last time.

I can't wait for Cali weather. To see Mom more, to go on adventures with  Cece. And to start classes-I'm following in my mother's footsteps and  studying art, my lifelong dream. I can't wait to dive in.

The whole world is at my fingertips. I'm finally free, and I'm going to make the most of it.

I haul my suitcase off the bed and drag it into the hall beside my other  suitcase. Gerard, our butler, meets me at the top of the stairs.

"I'll take those, Miss Badiary," he says, grabbing them both before I can protest.

"Gerard. How many times do I have to ask you to just call me Pamona?"

"At least once more, Miss Badiary," he replies, a twinkle in his eye as  he descends the steps in front of me, suitcases in hand. I swear he does  this just to annoy me. "Shall I have Andrew start the Porsche?"

Andrew is our chef, though he doubles as a handyman and a driver.

"No, don't bother him. I called a taxi."

Gerard pauses on the stairs, looking over his shoulder at me. "Are you  sure that's wise? Your father asked me to have Andrew drive you  personally … "

I roll my eyes. "Dad is paranoid, Gerard, and you know it. I'll be  perfectly fine. And tell Dad that if he was so worried about my safety,  he'd be here to see me off himself, not off at that stupid conference or  whatever."

Gerard's frown deepens, but he doesn't disagree. He sets my suitcases  side-by-side in the foyer and reaches out to pat my shoulder. "I'm sure  your father wishes he could be here, Pamona."

I flinch at the sympathy in his tone. Gerard has been working for us  long enough to know exactly how my father is-overprotective as hell, and  yet, for all that he claims to care about my wellbeing and safety, he's  never around when I actually need him. Just like now. Just like always  lately-his occasional irritable evenings have morphed into a constant  stream of bad moods. I can't remember the last time I saw my father  smile or spotted him without deep stress lines carved across his face.

"Well, he's not, so … " I brush off Gerard's hand and pick up my bags  myself. "I'll take it from here." I toss my shoulders back,  straightening. I've got this.