Sinful Desires Vol. 4 (2 page)

The first one was the most obvious. Why? Why had Reed pulled strings to get me a place at one of the elite private studios in Philadelphia? There had to be some ulterior motive. Some reason beyond wanting to apologize.

The door opened and my heart gave a wild leap. An unwanted flash of disappointment poured through me. It was Julien.

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately. He glanced at the trashcan where broken stalks stuck up. The scent from the crushed petals was nearly overwhelming.

I started to nod, but it quickly became a shake as my composure cracked. I put my face in my hands and pressed my lips together, desperately trying not to completely break in front of Julien. He placed his hand on my shoulder and the kind touch undid me. I let out a strangled sob and he pulled me against his chest.

All of the frustration of the past couple months, combined with everything that had happened tonight was too much. I could barely breathe as I cried, taking gulping, gasping breaths before letting them out again in choking sobs. I didn't try to explain what I was feeling and Julien didn't ask. He didn't say anything, in fact. He just held me and let me cry.

At some point, we moved to the couch, but his hands stayed on my back the entire time. Not once did they venture anywhere they shouldn't be and I realized I felt safe. I trusted him, and though I knew that might've been the emotional vulnerability talking, I didn't have the energy for anything more introspective.

Finally, I pulled back, brushing my hands across my cheeks. I felt hollow and empty inside, but it was better than everything else I'd been feeling. And I didn't think I was going to throw up now, which was a definite plus.

“Do you want to be alone?” Julien broke the silence with his softly-spoken question. “Or do you want me to stay on the couch?”

I appreciated the way he worded it so there was no doubt as to his intentions. I looked up at him, promising myself that if I saw the least bit of interest, I'd ask him to leave. All I saw was compassion and a hint of anger.

“I'll get some sheets.” I sniffled as I stood.

“Don't go to any trouble,” Julien got to his feet as well. “This is better than half the places I slept in Europe.”

“It's no trouble,” I said. “It's the least I could do.”

When I came back from the bathroom closet, Julien was clearing the table. I didn't protest because I knew it wouldn't do any good. Instead, I put the sheets on the couch and then went to help him.

After we finished, I showered and finally climbed into bed. I was so emotionally and physically exhausted that I didn't have any problem falling straight to sleep.

Chapter 2

When I woke up, it took a minute to remember why my eyes were swollen and dry, and why I had that hollowed out feeling in my chest. Everything came rushing back all at once and I pressed my face into my pillow to stifle my pained cry. The betrayal, the anger at myself for being so stupid, all of it was still there, though just a bit less fresh than it had been the day before.

I laid there for several minutes, letting the pain wash through me and over me. I knew the only way to deal with it was to let it have its way and learn to breathe around it. This wasn't the worst pain I'd ever felt, and since I'd survived before, I knew this ache would be bearable. It wasn't pleasant, but it wouldn't drive me over the edge. I was stronger than this.

I sat up, my eyes still dry. I wasn't going to let this stop me from living my life. And that meant I had a decision to make.

I'd picked up the envelope from the table last night while Julien and I had been cleaning up, and I'd brought it into my room to dry. I hadn't opened it since it hadn't looked like the water from the vase had soaked through. Now, I reached over to the table next to my bed and picked it up. It was one of those manila envelopes, so I didn't have to unfold the papers inside before I could see what they said.

The one on top was a welcome letter stating that I'd received a grant from an anonymous donor to attend classes at the studio. The grant was renewing, so as long as I maintained attendance and met the qualifying guidelines, I would be able to continue attending. My place was probationary, based on my performance at my formal interview as well as my progress for the first ninety days.

That actually made me feel better. Reed hadn't just bought them off. I still had to earn my way in. That meant I wouldn't be accepted if I weren’t good enough. Most people would've thought that would put more pressure on me, but it was that requirement that made me consider accepting the place. Sure, his money had opened the door, but it hadn't guaranteed me anything more than a shot. I hated the idea of owing him something, but it wouldn't be as big a debt as I'd first thought. And, realistically, I had to consider that it might be worth it in the end.

After the introductory letter were several other papers that appeared, at first glance, to be forms I needed to fill out. I didn't look closer at them, however, because at that moment I heard something, a noise from the kitchen. I stiffened, then remembered that Julien had stayed the night on the couch. Unless Rosa had decided to come home early from visiting her mother, it was him. I heard a man's voice utter a low oath and I smiled. Julien.

I climbed out of bed and headed into the bathroom. I wasn't going to primp, but I also wanted to at least run a brush through my hair and get rid of my morning breath. My stomach rumbled as wonderful smells wafting down the hallway. Julien must be making us breakfast; it smelled like bacon and eggs. But I knew that couldn't be the case. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had enough money for bacon. Toast was the usual go-to for breakfast on the rare occasion either of us ate it.

My stomach growled again. Apparently I was hungrier than I'd thought. The previous night's insanity must've taken its toll. I finished washing my face, pulled my hair back into a lopsided ponytail and headed out of my room and to the kitchen.

“Hey,” Julien said as I came out of the hallway. He was sucking on the side of his finger like he'd burnt it. “I was craving bacon and eggs so I went out and got some. Hope you don't mind.”

I shook my head, appreciating the fact that he wasn't pointing out what was missing in my kitchen. I'd spent basically my entire food budget on the previous night's dinner.

I frowned as I thought of it. Such a waste.

“So…” Julien's tone told me he was going to ask something of a slightly personal nature. “What was in the envelope?”

My head jerked up. That hadn't been what I'd expected. I'd been thinking more along the lines of wanting to know how I was doing or something like that.

“If you don't want to tell me,” he hurriedly added.

“No, it's okay,” I assured him. “I was just surprised you'd noticed it, that's all.”

He shrugged as he scraped the scrambled eggs onto two plates. “It wasn't there when we were eating, but it was when we were cleaning up. Doesn't take a genius to figure out Reed brought it for you.” He glanced at me and then scowled down at the bacon. “Is he trying to buy you off?”

I took a deep breath, wondering if I should share Reed’s offer or not. I shook my head. “Not exactly. It's a chance to get into Madam Emilana's Dance School.”

Julien brought the plates over to the table while I carried two glasses of water. Other than what was left of last night's wine, water was all we had to drink. He didn't complain though and we ate in companionable silence for several minutes. The food settled well and Julien was a much better cook than I would've thought a rich kid would be, especially after I remembered how Brock had joked on our first date about barely knowing how to shop for himself.

“Can I ask you something?” Julien broke the silence. “And please feel free to tell me to go to hell if I'm out of line.”

After everything he'd heard last night, I wasn't entirely sure what was left for him to ask. I nodded. “I'll do that.”

“Did you and Reed date when you were at St. George's?”

I nearly choked on my bacon. “You think Reed Stirling would've dated me? A scholarship kid from the wrong side of the tracks?” I laughed.

Julien's expression remained serious. “I think I saw something between the two of you last night that said you have a history.” He leaned back in his chair and raised his hands. “Like I said, tell me to go to hell if I'm out of line.”

I was quiet for a moment, debating whether or not I wanted to talk about what had happened. Anastascia was the only other person who knew about Reed, but after last night, she was back to not knowing the whole story. Julien knew the end. The question I had to ask myself was if I wanted to tell him the beginning.

I decided on a compromise. “Reed and I never dated, but we hooked up twice.” I looked down at what was left of my scrambled eggs. “I'm the one who ended it.”

“And he never got over that.”

I shrugged. I wasn't going to out-and-out lie, but if Julien wanted to infer that this hook-up had taken place years ago, I wasn't going to correct him either.

“Did Brock know about it?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “He knew there was something there, kind of like you did.”

Julien hesitated; like there was a question he wasn't sure he should ask.

“Go ahead,” I prompted him. “I won't answer if it bugs me.”

“Did he really offer you ten thousand dollars to go to Reed's wedding with him?”

I pressed my lips together as heat rose in my cheeks. I briefly considered not telling him or lying. In the end, I settled for another half-truth. “He paid for my plane ticket, hotel room and dress. The note said he'd give me ten thousand dollars, but I assumed he was joking. Since he never gave it to me, I figured that was the case.”

I wondered if Julien could tell I wasn't being entirely honest. If he could, he didn't say anything. He ate the last of the bacon off of his plate and then stood. “So what are you going to do?”

I blinked. “About what?”

He picked up my plate and flashed a grin at me. “About the dance grant. I'm guessing since you aren't walking around all smiles, you're still deciding if you should accept it or not.”

My eyebrows went up. “You're way more observant than I gave you credit for.”

His smile widened as he carried our plates to the sink. “That's the advantage to having a reputation like mine. Most people assume I'm a screw-up, and therefore stupid.”

“I never thought that,” I countered as I joined him at the sink.

“I'll wash, you dry,” he offered. When I gave him a surprised look, he laughed. “Worked my way across Europe, remember?”

I nodded and pulled the dish soap from under the sink.

“Anyway,” he continued. “The dance studio, that's back in Philadelphia, isn't it?”

I sighed. “It is.”

“And the way you were talking before, it sounded like you hadn't really wanted to go back.”

I shook my head. He really was observant.

“Is the grant something you want?”

I considered the question before answering right away. I was younger than Julien, but I wasn't a kid anymore. If I had dreams, they couldn't be the fantasies of a child. I knew I loved to dance, but did I really want to go to school for it? I was twenty-three, and for a dancer, that was almost too old for where I was. If I didn't take this now, I wouldn't have another chance. There was no probably or maybe about it. This was it.

“I want it,” I admitted and my heart squeezed at the possibility. “All I've ever wanted to be is a dancer.” I looked around the apartment. “And this isn't what I had in mind.”

If I took the offer, I could leave this place, quit my job. I wouldn't have to strip anymore. Granted, it meant I was going back to a place with a lot of painful memories and I'd have to find a new job there, but I'd be pursuing my passion and not taking off my clothes for creepy old guys and leering twenty-somethings.

“Look, I know this whole thing isn't any of my business,” Julien said as he handed me a plate to dry. “But based on everything you've told me, and knowing there's a lot you haven't, you've been through a hell of a lot.”

I couldn't really disagree with that. True, there were a lot of people who'd had a rougher life than me, but it didn't mean mine wasn't hard, just that theirs was worse.

“The way I see it,” he reasoned. “You deserve to have something go right for once.”

I exhaled, and then breathed that thought back in. Maybe he was right, I thought as I put the dishes away. It wasn't like I'd asked Reed to do this for me, and he'd said it was an apology. That didn't sound like it came with any strings attached except possible forgiveness. And this wasn't like Brock's offer of money, which would've helped me of course; but it wouldn't have changed anything, not really. And it definitely wasn't like Reed's offer to keep me in Vegas as his mistress. This was an opportunity to change things, to move forward with my life.

Julien leaned back against the sink and glanced at his watch. “Well, my plane leaves soon, so I need to go get my stuff.” He straightened, his expression sobering. “Are you going to be okay?”

I nodded. “I will. And thank you for being here. I don't know if I would've been okay yesterday without you.”

“You have a pen?”

I looked at him, puzzled, but pointed toward the refrigerator where Rosa and I had a pen with a magnet so we could write things we needed on a notepad. Julien scrawled something on a piece of paper, tore it off and handed it to me.

“My number,” he explained. “Call me when you make a decision or if you just need to talk.”

I waited for the inevitable addition, wondering if it would be a “look me up if you're back in Philly” or “I'll hit you up the next time I'm in Vegas,” but it never came. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, but the touch was as platonic as it got. “Hopefully I'll see you back home.” He smiled at me. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks,” I said. “And I will... call you, I mean.”

I kept looking at the door even after it closed. I hadn't just been polite, I realized. I really was thinking about calling Julien if I went back to the city. I'd enjoyed the time we'd spent together over the week. Well, the moments Brock hadn't been ruining by being an ass. And then there was the way he'd behaved through this whole shitstorm. He'd defended me more than once to Brock, ending with a punch, and then he'd held me while I'd cried without trying to take advantage of the situation.