Claiming My Father's Best Friend

ASTRID

"Don't you dare walk out on me, Astrid, this is all your fault!" Tristan barks, his eyes bulging as rage burns in their depth.

He's being ridiculous and the last thing I want to do tonight is stand here and listen to him act like a fucking child. I grab the door handle and cross the threshold, stepping into the balcony. Before I can take another step, I hear his footsteps hard and fast behind me, and then the scent of his cologne wafts into my nostrils, making me feel nauseous and irritated.

"Go away, Tristan. I have nothing to say to you." I mutter, closing my eyes as the cold air brushes my skin. The sun has set and the cloud is darkening with an intensity that matches the storm brewing inside of me, casting an ominous shadow over everything I've believed in for the past three years.

Tristan and I met at a fundraiser three years ago. It wasn't love at first sight but a bond that was fostered by our parents' stance in society. His father, Keith Blackwood owns half the city and has several businesses scattered all over the city and beyond. Same with my father. Tristian is in charge of the hotels and resorts. Sometimes, I feel like the fame has gotten into his head but then, he's always been a brat. I was just crazy enough to stick by him and make excuses for him every single time his demons surfaced.

"You don't mean it, babe. You can't possibly ask me to leave." His voice is sober. I know he's trying to crawl through the walls I've suddenly erected like he does each time we fight and I turn on his ass.

"I had a long day at the office. Being a rookie amongst people who have been in the field even before I was born is no walk in the park. I ..."

"Because you chose to go through all of that when you can work with me or your dad!" He snaps in a disapproving tone. "I told you I have just the perfect spot for you in one of the resorts. You can stay here with me or go to Australia, London ----"

"I don't want to work for you or my father I'm not a fucking charity case!"

He scoffs. "But you're slaving in that company for peanuts!"

How did we get here?

"I love my job as a financial consultant, and I'm going to earn every spot, every single benefit that comes with the job. I don't want you breathing down my neck every chance and belittling my effort."

"That's not true! I love you and I want what's best for you, babe."

I tilt my neck and toss him a glare. "You think?"

I pause, watching him suck in a breath. God, I can't believe I've put up with this man for this long. I should have dumped his ass after I noticed the first red flag. "You question my decision. You doubt my strength. Walk all over my emotions." I turn to face him, staring right into his blue eyes that are now consumed by rage. "I was looking forward to spending the night with the man I love. It was supposed to be our anniversary but you ruined it with your despicable attitude, treating me like a child in the middle of a restaurant!"

"I want what's best for you and having a cream lobster bisque would definitely ruin your shape!"

Bloody hell!

"Really? You care about my body size more than I do?"

"Looks like that to me! Because if you cared one bit, you wouldn't dare to even glance at a meal with high calories!"

I laugh. The sound erupts from my belly, spills through my lips, and echoes in the open space.

"Get out, Tristan, or I'll be forced to call the security to throw you out."

He narrows the gap between us and peers at my face, a smirk playing across his lips. "You'll do no such thing, babe."

The nerves of him to think he has some sort of control over me! Hasn't he learned his lessons already? When is he going to realize I can't be tamed?

"You have five minutes to get into that elevator, Tristan, and for your sake, I hope you stay away from me."

He stills for a moment. I gauge disbelief in his gaze, but then he lets out a low chuckle, a poor attempt at masking the emotion I can so easily decipher. Fear.

"Are you breaking up with me on our anniversary? A night we should be celebrating our love while anticipating the part I'll get to peel this dress off your body. What happened at the restaurant was nothing, besides, I gave you the perfect gift to make up for whatever I did."

I cast a withering glance at him. "Don't be silly! I told you I wasn't interested in your damn gift!"

"But it looks good on you. Don't you think so, hmm?"

Tristan leans in, raising his hands slowly to cup my face. His thumb strokes my bottom lip. Instead of the familiar thrill, I usually feel at his touch, my insides knot up with a sense of foreboding. I attempt to distance myself, but his strong grasp keeps me in place and our lips collide in an unexpected embrace.

A fresh wave of anger sweeps through me when he nips at my lips, seeking entrance.

"You son of a bitch!" I seethe! Striking him across the face with all the strength I can muster. "You make me sick!"

He laughs, massaging the spot I just hit with his palm. "You need me, baby doll. I can see your pupils dilating and your body is slightly leaning towards me. Don't try to act all strict and shit – admit it."

The anger skyrockets, threatening to choke me. "You're right about one thing, Tristan. However, I'm going to be celebrating tonight for an entirely different reason." I unclasp the bracelet he forcefully slid across my wrist at the restaurant during our argument and dump it in the front pocket of his tuxedo.

"I've lied to myself over and again, believing you'll stop being an asshole and treat me like I deserve to be treated with respect and utter devotion. When you hurt me the first time, I forgave you even before you told me it was never going to happen again. And what did you do? Huh?! You turned me into this woman who can barely stare at her reflection in the mirror without shedding a tear."

"Babe, we can fix this. Don't give up on us, please."

I want to laugh in his face. Give up on us? What the hell is he talking about? I gave up a long time ago. I've just been to chicken to walk away. I turn on my heel, heading straight to the elevator door that leads right to the lobby.

"Goodbye, Tristan," I say. Thumbing the buttons with force. "I hope I never see you again."

He throws me one last lingering glance before stepping into the confined space. I wait for my heart to shatter into tiny unrecognizable pieces. It's supposed to, right? I mean, I loved this man.

We had plans - so many dreams and stuff. There were days I couldn't go to bed without hearing his voice. There were moments I wanted nothing more than to bask in his touch and relish his teasing strokes and linger in his arms. God! I trusted in our love so much that I almost lost myself.

Dad will give me an earful. Mom, she adores Tristan. It's not going to be easy with them. I know his parents will be devastated too. Everyone in our family has been rooting for us. After a heavy sigh that eases the thought of the next few days, of having to face the questions and gossip from our circle of friends, I make my way to my bedroom and lie face down on the neatly made bed.

Something flickers in my mind and without allowing myself to dwell on the what-ifs of the decision I just made and the heat it will stir as soon as the news gets out, I walk to the minibar in the lounge and fix myself a drink. As the warm liquid sizzles down my throat, memories flood me, blurry, but just enough to make my temper rise again.

Damn, Tristan!

I got the perfect dress for tonight. I took ample time to put on my makeup and Mom had sent her stylist to do my hair. Everything I did meant nothing to him! He was more concerned with my weight than giving a fuck about my feelings.

My feet tremble slightly, forcing me to lean on the barstool. It's going to be a long night. My thought veers to Lily, my best friend. It's a Friday which means she'll be out at the bar downtown. I should call her, and tell her I've finally taken her advice to cut things off with the arrogant son of a bitch. Lilly hates Tristan's guts and they're always at each other's throats. My lips twitch in a small smile as I slowly realize that I have one person in my corner.

As if the universe is in sync with my thoughts, my cell phone vibrates and the caller ID flashes with Lilly's name. I answer after the third ring.

"Are you at his penthouse or yours?" She drawls, her voice light with humor.

I swirl the amber liquid in the tall glass, the smile on my lips widening into a wide grin. "I'm at mine."

"Where is he? What did he say when he saw that knee-jerking lingerie you got last week? Did he like it??"

My mind wanders to the red microfiber piece hanging in my walk-in closet. I gulp. Will the store take it back? Perhaps one of the girls wouldn't mind taking it off my hands. I can -

"Astrid?"

My mind snaps back to the present. Lily asked a question but I can't recall what it was.

"I – I'll call you in the morning, girl. I have to reply to a few emails and work on this file my Team Lead dropped on my desk today. It's due tomorrow."

"Work? Today's supposed to be your dating anniversary. What's going on? Are you alright?"

The tears surface and my grip on the glass tightens. "Tristan and I - - we broke up. I couldn't bear being with him anymore, Lily. I guess you were right about him breaking me apart. All that's left is a deep sense of regret and emotional scars."

Lily chuckles. "Fucking-finally, girl! I wish I was there to see the look on his face!"

I wait for her to ask me if I'm okay but the next thing I hear is the beeping tone and the sound of her low laughter reverberating in my ears. Maybe she's just excited for me. Or was that mockery I gauged in her voice?

No... it can't be. Lily is my best friend and she's always been against my relationship with Tristan. I tilt my head back, gulping the entire content of the glass. I wince as the peppery note of the scotch hits my throat. In the blink of an eye, I imagine Lily and Tristan together. No. Fuck! I need to get a damn grip and stay off social media and the horrid recent issues and tensions in modern relationships.

By the time the anger has simmered and I'm a tad bit relaxed, it's midnight. I push my laptop away and lay my head on the polished desk in my study, trying my damndest to not replay the night's event. My phone beeps, this time it's a text message. Without raising my head, I search the desk blindly for the device and then slide it under to read whatever is on the screen.

Tristan.

I hope you realize your mistake soon, babe.

I let the phone drop on the floor at the same time the first tear drips down onto the desk. Given Tristan's character, he's going to complicate things and it scares me more than the thought of losing him.

JORDAN

Till death do us part.

The words rattle in my mind as I step into the sun, pulling down the large sunglasses to protect my eyes from the glaring beam.

Oddly, the chaos I've been feeling since I stepped foot back in the City that was once like a home to me dissipates as I walk towards the gravestone with my wife's name boldly inscribed on it.

We had promised each other forever. Ours was a whirlwind romance with one date and we were already planning our future and checking out townhouses and beach houses in Barcelona for family vacations.

"Mr. Remington."

I pause mid-stride, turning around to glance behind me. My brows wrinkle slightly as I try to recall the face of the younger man before me. He appears to be in his late twenties and in his hands are roses and a bottle of wine. Wine? That's odd.

Perhaps he finally perceives my curiosity and flashes me a smile. "I'm the caretaker. I took over after my dad died last month. He told me about you." His glance shifts towards the direction of Anna's gravestone. "He said you left the town after your wife's funeral and only visits on her death anniversary."

"I'm sorry about your father." I finally say after a moment of silence. Now that I've taken the time to study him closely, he bears an uncanny resemblance to Dodd. However, where my old friend was old and wrinkled, his son is hard and fit.

His gaze lowers and then he nods slowly, repeatedly. "Thank you, sir."

Together we continue walking to Anna's grave. Gravels crunching under our boots. It's been polished and the stone, albeit old, still gleams under the sun. I slide off my glasses and kneel on the grass, placing the bouquet of lilac and hibiscus I bought for her. They were her favorite and she had cleared a piece of land behind our townhouse in Hoboken to plant her flowers.

I notice a movement from my peripheral. It's the caretaker. He's dropping the roses on Anna's grave. He dips his hand into a gift bag I missed out on earlier and produces two wine glasses.

"I hope you don't mind sharing a drink with me, Mr. Remington?"

I straighten, brushing my palm on my black pants. I had forgotten how hot it gets during the summer here and had picked a black long-sleeved shirt, pairing it with brown pants.

"Did Dodd tell you to do this?"

He chuckles. Damn, if I had doubted his relationship with Dodd, the subtle tilt of his brows as he appears to ponder my question would have proved me wrong.

"Yes." His voice carries a sad frown. "He used to talk about you a lot and was really looking forward to this year's visit."

My gaze bounces from his face to my wife's grave. I need a moment with her but I doubt this man is ready to leave my side yet. Dodd was like this too. He'd hang around but still manage to keep a certain distance and enough to give me the privacy I needed to tell my wife all the things I've piled up.

A few times, he'd suggested I stay back. Put the big house up for sale, rent a smaller space, or buy one and stay amongst friends. I turned him down time and again. Anna was the major reason I chose New Jersey after college.

We were setting up my architectural firm and she was to enroll in a culinary school and spend some time working in her garden.

"Drink?" He stretches a half-filled glass towards me. I offer him a small nod before accepting it.

"I've heard so much about you that I feel I've known you all my life. Dad said I was a year old when you left."

He's nineteen. I was wrong about his age.

He clears his throat. "More wine?"

I sigh. I don't remember taking a sip not to talk of emptying the glass. I must be either thirsty or losing my mind as a sense of nostalgia hits me.

"No, I'll need a minute alone."

He drops the glass and bottle on the stone and steps backward. "I'll be somewhere around, in case you need me, Sir."

As his footsteps retreat, I go back to kneeling on the grass and placing my palms on the stone. It's been nineteen years but the pains of losing the only woman I vowed to love for the rest of my life hit me as hard as the night she passed.

She was on her way to the store to pick up groceries when a truck driver smashed right into her Camry. She had died that night. My chest heaves as a vivid image of her lying in a pool of blood fills my mind, making my bones weaken.

"Oh, Anna!" I moan, sniffling back the tears that are sticking to my lashes. She would have been 39 now and probably running her restaurant as she always wanted and raising our kids with me by her side.

The first tear drops.

Then the second.

Then another, until my vision becomes blurry. "I miss you so much, honey. Last night, I sealed this huge deal with a construction company in China. I was so excited and itching to celebrate. However, the second I stepped into the bar and ordered a glass of champagne, I felt so cold and couldn't bear to sit there anymore." I sniffle and raise my hands to wipe my eyes.

"I remembered how much you love to celebrate every single milestone no matter how little it was. We'd hang out until your feet start hurting, then head home and sit on our front porch while I massage your feet and kiss them till you feel nothing. Do you think I'm being a coward for not moving on after all these years?" I chuckle.

Anyone watching me right now will think I'm nuts. Maybe they're right. I'm going way over my head with thoughts of my late wife. I've refused to come to terms with the fact that she's no longer with me, that she's dead and her ashes are sitting right in my car.

A car stops at the curb ten yards from where I'm kneeling. I cock my head and pull the sunglasses over my face, hiding it from view. It's been Nineteen years. I doubt anyone would recognize me. Dodd always made sure to keep away distractions whilst I'm here. I guess he forgot to tell his son that bit.

"Do you want me to send them away, Mr. Remington?"

Laughter.

I swirl my head around to see who the occupants of the car are. Teenagers. They're coming into the cemetery with flowers and –

"High school kids. They lost their coach after last season."

Oh. They're not here to mess around then. Perhaps it's time to leave and face the rest of my day. It's going to be a long one.

Facing forward again, I lean down and kiss the stone. "I'll come see you again soon, honey."

My thumb wipes at the wetness on my cheek. The wine is still there. I pick them up and hand them back to him. "Thank you."

He shrugs. "I'm glad you came by, Mr. Remington."

I nod. I'm glad too, but I don't know for how long. The last time I was around this part of the world for a long period of time I was twenty-six and just starting to set up my firm. Now I'm forty-five, a billionaire.

"Are you staying?"

I inhale slowly and gingerly stretches to pat his broad shoulder. "What's your name, son?"

"Joel."

I squeeze his shoulder gently. "It's nice to meet you, Joel."

My mind races with thoughts of Anna as I drive home.

This is a mistake.

I stare around the cozy space, wondering if I made the right choice by selling the townhouse and moving into a condo. Dodd would have been thrilled to know I'm finally taking his advice.

I stop in my tracks as a woman approaches. She's wiping her hands with a white towel, her face beaming with a welcoming smile.

"Welcome home, Mr. Remington."

I force a nod.

"Is it alright if I serve your lunch now?"

She's standing right under the bright bulb. My gaze drifts to the nametag on her apron. Agatha. Fitting. She does look like an Agatha. Her curly blonde hair is neatly tucked under her bonnet, with a few tendrils fanning her forehead.

A picture on the mantle catches my attention. I had instructed the movers to take Anna's belongings to a private storage. I guess they forgot this one. It's a picture from our first date.

I hear frantic movement behind me, and then the housekeeper appears and reaches out a hand to take the picture off.

"Leave it," I say.

She wiggles her finger. "I'm sorry. The movers told me you didn't want her stuff lying around. I was fixing up your room and found it amongst your---"

A car door opens outside and then a figure appears outside the house. It's the driver. I wave Agatha away and walk into my bedroom. I need to change and get the documents I need for the meeting. If I must stay here, I have to make sure I have someplace I can work outside the condo. And my old friends, it's been eons since I last saw or heard from them.

Volkov.

I wonder if he'll be happy to see me even though I haven't bothered to return his emails and phone calls for over ten years now. I just couldn't keep up anymore and work was the only thing that kept me sane.

"Mr. Remington-" Agatha calls out from outside my bedroom door.

"If this is about lunch, Agatha, I'm not hungry. Don't bother with dinner too." I say dismissively.

"Not that, Sir. Your PA just called. He said you have less than twenty minutes before your meeting with the partners."

I grin. Finally, something to look forward to. I'm going to stay positive. Take each day as it comes and hope for the best. That's what Anna would have wanted.

"Tell him I'm on my way."

ASTRID

The moonlight that looms over the tall building gives a mysterious quality. I glance around the parking lot as Lilly puts the car in the park.

"It's jam-packed. Why don't we check out another bar, Ritz, perhaps?" I ask Lilly, my voice betraying my chagrin.

A host of bitter feeling hurdles in my belly as the past week flickers in my mind. Tristan has been texting nonstop, making millions of promises and vowing his devotion. I hate the intrusion. The fact that he's failed to see there's nothing left for us makes me resent him more.

How can he not see that what we shared was toxic? We fought about everything, and he was ever – barely on the same page with him. If I suggest we visit a certain location for vacation, he'd end up booking suites in another country and cajoling me into accepting his decision.

Foolish me! I always did! I was so blind, so enamoured by his charms and the man he pretended to be when he wasn't acting like a dick.

"You're going to ruin my car seat if you keep on gripping it like that, girl. Loosen your hold and relax."

I sigh, letting my back relax firmly against the black leather seat. "What now?"

"We go in there and make tonight count. We went to the Ritz bar last week and the week before. This year is for exploring every single thing life offers and that means, bars, dangerously handsome men," she glances out the window, licking her bottom lip with a dreamy expression on her face as a dark tall man walks by the car. "You see what I'm saying, huh? If you really want to move past that motherfucker, you must be ready to do what it takes."

I don't see how coming to a bar is going to help me forget my ex and bury the endless stream of regret I harbor. I tell her this but instead of a politic response, Lilly throws open the car door and slides out with a sultry move of her hips.

"You have to stop sulking. Get your ass out." She spiels.

I know staying in the car isn't going to make her stop. Maybe she's right though, besides, I have nothing to do back home. I've binge-watched all my favorite movies and tried reading my favorite books, but always end up curling into a ball and crying till my eyes sting with fatigue.

The bar is alive with people and loud music that makes my ears ring. Lilly drags me to the bar, waving her free hand in the air.

"This is good! Do you feel it?" She yells over the music

I nod, stifling a frown. There's nothing good about being in the middle of a bar when you'd rather be someplace else and happy. But there's no place like that. Dad is out of town and mom is neck-deep in planning some sort of party. She never gets tired. Dad says it's good for business. Exposure – networking, and then there's the fun. Lots of it.

"Drinks?"

I nod again. "Spritzer."

Lilly tosses me an annoyed frown. "That won't do. You need to get your head in the game!"

"Lilly----"

She ignores me, calling out our orders to the bartender. "Double. Don't forget that!"

"Got you!" The man in a white uniform and a red bandana tied around his head replies.

"Tequila? Do you want to crawl home on your tongue?" I say, slightly exasperated.

She laughs. "My tongue will definitely be crawling, but on something hard and warm. Stay positive, girl. Don't go saying stuff like that."

I tune her out, focusing my attention on the open double door that leads to – I squint my eyes, trying to read the sign. A man walks in and stops right in front of the sign, preventing me from reading. My lip coils into a snarl. He can't just stand there like some fucking statue.

"What are you --" Lilly starts and then she lets out a gasp, palming her mouth as the sound erupts. "Damn, you already got your eyes on that one, huh?"

The man's head turns and our eyes lock for a second. He smirks, then nods stiffly. Weird.

"He looks old," I say, turning back to Lilly.

"And hot. That tux does him no good. Do you imagine what he'd look like in a tight-fitted T-shirt?"

I raise a puzzled brow. "No, I don't. How about we take those drinks." I'd rather drink than stand here and talk about some old dude who probably has a wife and three kids.

Lilly rolls her eyes. "You can't fool me. Your cheeks are burning. That man is fine."

"Whatever, Lilly."

I pick up the half-filled glass of tequila and drain it in one gulp. The bartender whistles, his eyes gleaming with admiration.

"That's the spirit!"

Before I can jack, I'm on my third glass, wiggling my ass to the music. Is that Drake's new album? I cock my head and when the lyrics hit again, I twirl my hands in the air, bobbing repeatedly.

The crowd is wilder now. All the chairs and tables have been cleared out, but then, it's still chock full of moving bodies. Lilly gobbles another glass of tequila. That's her fifth.

"What's the target?" I yell, nodding at the empty glass in her grip.

She grins drunkenly. "Till I can't feel my legs anymore."

I want to ask her how she plans to make it home if she can't walk, except for the fact that I already know the answer.

"Maybe I should stop chugging these down. One of us needs to stay sane."

She shakes her head and pushes a glass into my hand. "Drink up. It's more fun if we're both shit-faced."

"Lilly ---" The protest dies on my lips as she dashes into the crowd, disappearing out of sight. I throw back my head and scarf down the face-twisting liquid. I smack the glass down on the bar and grab the edge with both hands as my head spins.

"Easy lady. Don't hurt your skin now." A random guy says, glancing at my hand wrapped tightly around the glass.

"Go away!" I screech.

The guy raises his palm upwards and then turns around.

The crowd hollers a name as the DJ switches up to another song. The upbeat sound prompts me to start moving more than just my hips. I place my hands on my knees, lower my back, arch it slightly, and then twist my hips in tune with the beat. Lilly was right. I feel good. I feel lighter and my head is no longer swelling with thoughts of my past. Tristan can go to hell. Tonight, I'll have all the fun in the world.

Gathering all my wit, I request another glass. It's getting really hot in here. I scour the room for Lilly. She's probably somewhere hunting for –

"What are you having?"

I stop moving and tilt my head to look at the man whose front is pressed against my side. It's him! The older man with a banging body. Why is he standing so close? I make to move away but my feet wobble, forcing me to lean into him for support.

He wraps my hands around my waist and guides me towards the barstool. "I think whatever it is you're drinking isn't a good choice. You're drunk."

"I might be drunk, but not enough to entertain your company." I shoot at him.

"Thank goodness. I doubt I want to deal with a drunken woman tonight." He shoots back, but his lips betray him, twitching in a smile. Lilly was right. He's the bee's knee and his eyes, I can drown in their soulful depth.

"You're drooling." He says yaks with a throaty laugh. "Is that approval I gauge in your eyes?"

My face reddens. I can feel it burning with embarrassment. Are my emotions conspicuous?

"Your face, it's plain as a pikestaff. You were checking me out."

I give a sarcastic eye-roll. "Don't flatter yourself."

He laughs. "It's alright if you decide not to admit it. I know what I saw and that's enough for me to stick around you."

"Does your wife know that you're here?"

His face takes on a pained expression. I watch him lower his head and massage his ring finger slowly. There's a ring there, so why is he acting like I shot him in the fucking groin?

"She's dead. Died a long time ago."

My gaze drops to his hand and the ring. He exhales slowly, straightening. I know pain. I can sense it anywhere. Right now, this man isn't just wearing pain, he's soaked with it. He must have been so in love. Probably like my parents. Those two make me want to crawl into a corner and hide sometimes. They are always feeling each other up and saying mushy shit and playing cheesy games.

"I'm sorry."

He tilts his chin upwards. "Are you?"

I shrug. "I wouldn't have said that if I didn't mean it. I'm sorry that you lost your wife."

"Have you lost someone before?"

"Lost – like lost?"

He chuckles. "Yes. Lost like lost."

"Does a breakup count?"

There's a brief pause followed by a shake of his head. "I guess? It's akin to losing. That means the person is no longer in your life and doesn't share anything with you anymore."

"That's what it is. I doubt we'll be sharing anything anymore. I don't even want that to be honest."

"So it was your decision then?"

I nod.

"Was it mutual?"

The text messages, and calls. And oh, there was a flower and a piece of jewelry in a box in my car yesterday. It's definitely not mutual.

"No."

"He'd be crazy to let you slip away without a fight."

I give him a sideways glance. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs. "I'm still getting to know you. How about you ask me this question after a – let's say a week?"

I want to laugh but his serious expression forces it back to my belly. He's not kidding.

"That's quite bold of you. Do you think we'll meet again after tonight? I don't like this bar and I doubt I'll be coming back here."

"There are other bars."

"I know. I'm just saying that there's a fat chance we won't run into each other again."

"We can find a way to make it work. Don't you agree?"

I pause for a minute to gather my thoughts. Apart from being stunning, he's decent and a perfect gentleman. When I fell into his arms, he didn't allow his hand to drift past my waist. Most men would have grabbed the chance to feel me up and grind into my backside. But he's old. Old like my dad, perhaps even more than dad.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 45." He says without hesitation.

Dad is 47. Two years apart. This isn't going to work out. Wait- - - I'm way over my head. What if he just wants to be friends?

"You're frowning. Does my age bother you?"

I can sense uncertainty in his voice. I glance at the brimming crowd and then back at him. He's definitely not here for friendship – not with that look – his eyes roaming across my face, pausing at my lips and drifting back to my eyes.

Every part of me becomes aware of him. My heartbeat heightens, and even my breath comes out a tad bit faster than normal.

For the briefest second, I imagine a million and one ways he can run his hands over my skin. Will he be gentle? Rough? Dominating?

Will he pay attention to the deepest part of me?

I shut my eyes as an image of Tristan and me making love drifts to the surface of my mind. There were moments when I wanted nothing but to lock myself in the bathroom until he went away. I was in love, so none of it mattered because I found a way to make it work.

"Hey." His minty breath fans my face.

In the heat of a moment, my mouth becomes painfully aware of his full lips. The music fades and my mind floods with a make-up image of him naked. I squeeze my thighs, grateful for the dim lights that conceal the movement.

"You've not answered my question. Does my age bother you?" He takes my hands in his and strokes my palms with his thumbs. "Because if it doesn't, I'd love to dance with you."

Goosebumps cover my skin. His request overshadows all the thoughts running through my mind.

His eyes drill into mine with raw emotion. Need? Plea? Apprehension?

"Please?" He whispers the words, his fingers knotting through mine.

My head makes a subtle nod before I can utter the word forming at the tip of my tongue.

"You have no idea how excited I am about meeting you." He says, pulling me up gently and right into his waiting arms.

I don't even know his name and my body is already aching to be wrapped around him. This isn't how I envisioned tonight. And quite frankly, this is far from what I expected.