Seduction by Song Read online

  “What are you doing here?” I ask before he can open his mouth to say something annoyingly charming. I begin to walk away before he can answer, wanting to distance myself from the crowd and knowing that he would follow me, anyway.

  He does, of course, follow me, with that curl of a smile on his face again. “As if you don’t know? Aren’t you here to claim your role in our newest music video?”

  “I am not,” I reply stiffly, stopping once we’re far away enough that people have stopped staring, instead focusing their attention on whomever else just took the stage.

  “Shame,” Romeo says, not sounding the slightest bit surprised. “We were looking for a girl just like you—smart and beautiful, with a perfect frown and a perfect smile. You’ll reconsider, won’t you? We’re filming right here.”

  I force a flush down from my cheeks at the compliments—as kind as his words are, I know for a fact that he has ulterior motives here. “You’re shameless, Mr. Ortiz. Tell me—did the create the role after finding out I attended school here or did you decide to film here after finding out I attended school here, hm?”

  He laughs, pushing a hand through his hair to smooth his thick locks back. “Bit of both. Flattered?”

  “Totally,” I say, sarcasm dripping off of the word. “I’m not interested, Romeo.”

  He pulls a face that’s almost like a pout as he clutches a hand to his chest. “Ouch. I’m hurt.”

  I stifle a laugh. The expression is so melodramatic that I can’t help finding it funny. He grins as though he knows he’s succeeded in making himself—well, at least somewhat tolerable. A sense of humor is a start.

  “You’ll live.” I tilt my head back at his waiting crowd. “There’s hundreds of girls there dying for a role.”

  “But you’re the one I want,” he says, his voice and demeanor going completely serious all of a sudden. His eyes darken as he straightens, the words ringing true in my ears—I still couldn’t fathom why they would be true, but there was no doubting that he was earnest about this at the very least.

  Before I can formulate a response, he’s taking one of my hands and pressing a business card with some details scribbled on the back in blue pen into my palm.

  “When you change your mind, the details for the shoot are right here,” he says, closing my fingers gently around the paper. “I’ll see you soon, Erin. Dinner. You won’t forget.”

  As he leaves, I keep my fingers curled around the business card and realize that I can’t even bother being offended that he would assume I would change my mind. I sigh to myself as I begin to make my way off campus, realizing that I’ve probably missed my bus.

  Was I really getting used to Romeo’s attitude? No—it couldn’t be. Surely I was just too tired to react.

  No matter—it would all be over soon.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Although I wasn’t what anyone would call invested in Romeo or our upcoming date, I was still a girl at heart—the type of girl who thought any excuse to dress up was a brilliant excuse. With my classes requiring business casual clothes and personal life all but dead, chances to get dolled up were far and in between these years.

  So, naturally, when April insisted that we make a trip to the mall to get be done up properly for my date, I wasn’t going to complain.

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s Romeo, if you never intend on seeing him again,” she had reasoned. “We’ll get you smoking so hot he’ll have to see what his damn attitude cost him.”

  I had laughed and agreed to go along because enlightening Romeo didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Besides, it would be the first time in a long time that I got to have a day for myself. Sure, there were those frequent trips to the mall with Maddie before the concert, but those had been more for her than anyone. I wasn’t dying to be the center of attention all the time, of course, but it wasn’t a bad feeling to be just that every once in a while.

  April treats me to lunch at a slightly upscale restaurant where she hopes to file an application for a job as sous-chef once she gets her references in order, then parades me around the mall to all our favorite shops. We find the perfect dress after a few hours. The green fabric is soft against my skin and the cut of it is just the right amount of slinky, just the right amount of revealing.

  The price tag is a bit—well, out there, to say the least.

  “Let me get it,” April says, grabbing it from my arms when she sees me starting to put it back on the rack. “Consider it an early Christmas present.”

  “April, no!” I shake my head quickly, frowning sternly at her. “It’s too much for me. Besides, it’s the middle of summer—nowhere near Christmas.”

  She laughs and starts to dash towards check-out, evading my attempts to grab the dress back from her. “Even better! It can be a late Christmas present or an early Christmas present!”

  We argue over the dress for a while longer, but April is stubborn has hell once she’s made up her mind. I at least convince her to let me pay for half of it.

  “And take you out to coffee?” I add, hopefully.

  She laughs again and nods as we get in line. “Sure, hon. You can take me out to coffee.”

  After we find a matching pair of pumps for the dress, we settle down in the food court with our haul. We change coffee to frozen yogurt and laugh together as April makes me pull the dress out and hold it to my chest, spinning around with it to show it off for her.

  “Beautiful,” she says.

  “Where the hell are you going to wear that to?” a completely different voice says from behind me.

  I startle, nearly dropping the dress as I whirl around to face—oh. I fold the dress carefully and slide it back into its bag before turning to face the intruder in our conversation: my dear brother Logan.

  Logan has this look of annoyance on his face, the same look that’s always on his face, as he glances at April and the bags by our table. With that annoyance always came with an air of disapproval, directed at me. I knew that he only wanted the best for me—he had a huge part in raising me with Dad after Mom left us, after all—but he cared in such an intimidating way that it was hard to see it as affection. My tough exterior always cracked under his scrutinizing gaze, and I have to take a deep breath before forcing myself to smile up at him.

  “Hi, Logan,” I say, a bit stiffly. “What are you doing here?”

  “Work,” he says curtly. He’s still looking at the bag that I had slipped my new dress into. “You’re going to wear that?”

  I groan inwardly. Most girls had to deal with their fathers catching them by the scruff of their neck and pulling them back inside the house to make them change during their high school years—in my case, this role was played by my brother.

  “Yes, Logan,” I answer, my voice so even that it might as well have been mechanical. “I have a date.”

  “Yeah? How long have you been seeing the guy?”

  I look back at April just as she pulls a face at Logan. She didn’t care much for my brother, but she knew that I didn’t like others interfering with my family life. Logan was a bit crass about how he treated my father and I, but I did know that he does care.

  “It’s—it’s a first date.”

  Logan’s frown deepens. “You’re wearing that on a first date? Christ, Erin, it’s practically lingerie!”

  I can practically hear April fuming behind Logan’s back. Logan was exaggerating, of course—the dress had a modest slit up the leg and revealed maybe half of my back as well as my shoulders. He would never be content unless I bundled up like I was about to live in Siberia, though, and I knew better than to argue with him.

  “I’ll—I’ll look for something else,” I say, knowing that he wouldn’t actually be able to check on me to make sure I kept that promise. Lying to him had always been easier than trying to argue.

  Logan nods, appeased for the moment. “You’d better return it. That crap doesn’t look cheap, and Dad’s birthday is coming up.”

  “She’s not returning anything,�
�� April snaps, finally unable to control herself any longer. I could tell she wanted to say much, much more, in what would probably be much fouler language, but she simply shrugs after a moment. “I bought it. It’s mine.”

  “Of course it is,” Logan mutters snidely under his breath.

  “What did you just say?” April’s eyes narrow as she stands from the table.

  “Logan!” I say, interrupting loudly before they could get into a proper fight right here in the food court. “It’s—it was really good seeing you. Are you here to find a birthday present for Dad?”

  Logan looks over my shoulder, still skeptical of April’s presence in my life. He liked her just about as much as she liked him—which was to say, not very much at all. He always thought that she was a bad influence and it had always been an uphill battle to keep him out of my business.

  “Yeah,” he says, finally. “He could use some new power tools.”

  I cringe. Dad really, really couldn’t use some new power tools. I mean, sure, he would probably appreciate them—he would appreciate anything we got him just because we were his kids. But what kind of work was he going to do around the house? He was a retired chef for God’s sake.

  I don’t say any of that to Logan, though. He was a man’s man, and wanted Dad to be the same. Instead, I ask, “Can I come with? I still need to pick something up for him, too.”

  Even though I already had a gift for him—a book of recipes I put together with April’s help—and even though spending more time with Logan was the last thing I wanted, I hoped that I might be able to talk him into getting something more practical for Dad.

  “April, you can get home alright, right?” I ask when Logan nods to my request.

  April opens her mouth, looking like she wants to protest, but clenches her jaw shut after a second and nods tightly. “Sure. Take care, Erin. I’ll see you at home for dinner?”

  I nod and smile as reassuringly as I can, giving her a quick hug before letting Logan lead me away.

  After subtly convincing Logan to get a set of fireplace pokers (Dad loved reading by the fire, stoking it every once in a while like they did in the old movies) instead of the power tools, making him think it was his idea in the first place, I make some excuses about having some work to do that night and have him drop me off at my apartment.

  April tries to talk to me about the way I am around Logan—she, and practically everyone else in my life, tells me I’m too timid around him and that I should stand up for myself like I do with everyone else in my life. I can’t explain to her that it’s just not the same, that I just want to make those close to me happy while avoiding as much trouble as I can.

  So, instead, I just avoid the subject, suggesting instead that we get an early night’s sleep—I had a big night tomorrow, after all.

  She seems to have forgotten about the whole thing in the morning, or she’s at least trying to put it out of her mind. I try to insist that she doesn’t have to pamper me all day, but she insists even harder on helping me with my hair and makeup.

  “It almost feels like we’re trying too hard,” I say as I wrinkle my nose, laughing as some powder she applies to my face tickles for a second.

  “He’s going to be devastated,” is her typical answer.

  As I look at myself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom, I have to agree. I haven’t looked so good in ages, and it feels pretty damn nice to see the way the dress accentuates the curve of my hips.

  April drops me off a block away from the coffee shop, wishing me luck as I step out of the car.

  “Thank you,” I say as my gaze drifts towards the coffee shop where a long dark limo is parked.

  Luck, huh?

  I’ll sure as hell need it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Romeo is nowhere in sight as I approach the coffee shop, a few minutes before the time we agreed on. (Or, rather, the time Romeo decided and I agreed to for reasons that were becoming less and less clear by the second.) I doubt this is someone else’s limo that just happens to be parked outside, though, so I hoist my purse, a tiny thing just big enough for my wallet and phone that April let me borrow, higher up on my shoulder as I stop by the vehicle to wait.

  In five minutes, right on the hour, Romeo appears. He’s backing out of the coffee shop, laughing and smiling like he’d just come out of a great intimate party with his closest friends. Inside, I could swear I hear Lydia laughing as well, calling out and telling him to come back anytime.

  Oh, God. He got to her, too?”

  Romeo stops in his tracks when he turns, finally laying eyes on me. He rakes his eyes down my body, slow and intimate as I stand perfectly still, feeling more and more self-conscious by the second.

  Then, to make things worse, he whistles, low and long.

  Things were not off to a good start. In all of thirty seconds, he had managed to remind me of every reason I had to not enjoy his company. I had been so caught up in preparing for the date that I had even started to look forward to it—well, all that excitement was gone in an instant.

  Romeo grins appreciatively as he brings his eyes back to meet mine, making some sort of gesture to his side that makes a driver appear to open the door for us.

  “Shall we, bonita?”

  He sweeps his hand in front of himself as he moves to station himself next to the door after our silent driver disappears into the limo again. I ignore his hand and bypass him completely on my way into the vehicle, settling down in the backseat as far to my side as possible. The plush leather seats are more comfortable than anything I’d sat in, and a faint new car smell permeates the air as though this were a brand new limousine.

  “Cristal,” he says as he reaches for the bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket just in front of the seat he takes. “You got dressed up all for me, did you?”

  I resist the urge to tell him no, I got dressed up for me, and instead settle peer out of the window as we begin moving, taking an unfamiliar turn away from my coffee shop as we roll down the empty night streets.

  The pop of the champagne startles me into looking back to Romeo, and I accept silently as he holds out a flute of champagne to me.

  “To this one night,” he says, apparently perfectly at ease with my silence. He raises his glass and waits patiently for me to clink the side of my glass against his.

  It isn’t until after I’ve taken a sip that he adds, “And many more.”

  If I could have, I would have spit the champagne back out. The nerve of this guy, really! The champagne wasn’t even especially good—rather, I’m sure it was good, but I was no expert and it didn’t taste much different to me than the champagne I had on a few rare occasions before.

  “So—,” I start, barely able to get even that word out of my mouth before he interrupts.

  “Aw. Is the silent treatment over already? I was enjoying it.”

  I feel my face flushing hot as I frown at him, setting my glass down on a counter in front of myself. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to be more obnoxious, but—.”

  He interrupts once more, holding up a hand as he grins. “I simply meant silence was actually quite an appropriate theme for the first part of the night.”

  I frown, not understanding. He doesn’t explain, but also doesn’t leave me to wait long. Within a few short minutes, we had stopped in front of what seemed to be our first destination. As I step out of the limo, I realize that we’ve come to the local theater where I watched all the new releases on Wednesday nights during the school year when university students got in for the heavily discounted rate of just three bucks.

  “So,” I start again as though he never interrupted minutes ago. “What, dinner and a movie?”

  He smiles cryptically and holds out an arm to me. He was dressed in dark slacks and a button-up shirt, more formal than I’d ever seen him. His coat looked rather simple, not too fancy, but impossibly expensive at the same time. He certainly wasn’t dressed for something as mundane as dinner and a movie.

&n
bsp; “Something like that,” he says, answering and not answering my question all at once.

  I sigh and step forward, reluctantly threading my arm through his. He leads me into the theater and I notice, at once, the eerie silence spread throughout the place.

  “It’s empty,” I say before I can stop myself. I feel my cheeks warm immediately afterwards. I was never one for stating this obvious and, well, that was about as obvious of an observation as I’ve ever made.

  “Smart girl,” Romeo says, teasingly but not maliciously. He leads me through the theater as though he owns the place, which—now that I think about it—might actually be the case.

  “Why is it empty?” I ask after a moment as he holds the door to one of the screening rooms open for me.

  He waits until he’s led me to two of the seats in the center of the theater. He releases my arm, but not before bringing my hand up to his lips to press a warm kiss to my knuckles.

  “Privacy,” he says as he lets go of my hand, taking the seat to my left. “Intimacy. Any number of reasons—take your pick.”

  I frown at the non-answer, but take my seat. “This cryptic bullshit isn’t like you.”

  “Ah, but you’ve yet to get to know me,” he says, grinning as though pleased with himself—as though this conversation was going exactly how he wanted it to go. “This is the point of the night, isn’t it?”

  I sigh and relax in my seat. The ground is surprisingly clean beneath my feet, not at all sticky like it usually is in this place. Freshly scrubbed, no doubt. The screen lights up in front of us, playing footage of some calming scenery along with a soundtrack of background noises.

  “I thought the point of the night was to possess me,” I say sarcastically, making a point to make sure he hears exactly what I think of that idea in the tone of my voice.

  If he gets the hint, he completely ignores it. “Oh, don’t worry—I will possess you. Not immediately. Perhaps not even tonight.”