Sweetest Venom (Virtue #2)(66)

I give my head a little shake, feeling myself blush with embarrassment. Yeah, I was definitely not going there with my mom.

Getting off the train, I make my way to the deli outside my subway stop and buy flowers. I take my iPhone out of my purse, check the time, making sure that I’m not running late for work, and then walk into the coffee shop next door. I spot Phoenix immediately. It’s impossible to miss him—tallest guy around, tatted, and drop-dead gorgeous. His electric blue gaze lands on me as soon as I walk in. I blush under his roving and appreciative eye.

He walks toward me, cocky smile in place, as he pushes some of his black hair away from his face. “Mornin’, gorgeous. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

I laugh. “You should have more faith in me.”

“I do, that’s why I haven’t stopped asking you out for the past two years.”

“Two years.” I scrunch up my nose. “It really has been that long?” I do the math in my head and grimace. He’s right. Thing is, for most of my life I had always been in a relationship with a man, or dependent on one. I didn’t know what being single was. I didn’t know who I was outside of a relationship, and it felt nice to get to know myself.

“Yep.” He leans down to kiss me on the cheek, but his mouth lands on the corner of my lips. I tell you. He’s smooth. “Anyway, I figured you needed some space after the other night.”

“Here,” I say, handing him the flowers I just bought. “My apology.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Well, this is a first. No one has ever bought me flowers before.”

I place a hand on top of his arm. “Do you have a few minutes? I need to talk to you.”

He turns to look behind us, toward the counter where a very pretty and dainty girl with blue hair is preparing some drinks. “Winter, I’ll be back in a few. Give me a shout if you need me.”

When we step outside the coffee shop, he reclines his back on the wall while he crosses his muscled arms across his even more muscled chest. “All right, gorgeous. What is it?”

I stare at the pavement, noticing that my shoes have seen better days. “I just wanted to explain to you what happened back … you know … the other night.”

“Blaire,” the teasing tone in his voice is gone, “you don’t have to explain anything to me. We got carried away and you weren’t ready. End of story. Now, question is when do we get to try again?” he asks cheekily.

“Seriously?”

He grins. “Can’t fault a man for tryin’.”

“You’re a brave man for even thinking about it, Phoenix. I pretty much lost it. Like, total psycho move.”

He chuckles, and even the chuckle is sexy, but that’s Phoenix for you. “Can’t promise you that one day I’ll look back to that night and think of it as one of my fondest memories.”

“You’re too much.” I laugh. “So am I forgiven?”

“Always. But can I just say something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Eventually you’re going to have to let his memory go, Blaire. You’re young, smart, beautiful, and so much f*ckin’ fun. A memory won’t warm your bed at night. Not like I could anyway.”

Phoenix is right. I know that, and that’s why I finally agreed to go out with him. But what happens when your heart is deaf to reason and blind to every man who isn’t a world-renowned photographer with brown eyes?

“I know, Phoenix.” I take his arm in mine, patting his hand, and walk inside the coffee shop. “I’m trying, I promise.”

“Every time I see an article written about how f*cking talented he is, my hands itch to punch his pretty face,” he says angrily.

“Don’t say that. I’m proud of him.” His success makes the pain worthwhile. I recline my head on his arm since I’m too short to reach his shoulder. A long time ago, the mention of his name alone would have been like a knife to the heart. Not a day goes by when it doesn’t hurt, but at least I can look at his pictures and read about him without falling apart. “I’m going to miss you, Phoenix.”

“I’m going to miss you, too, Blaire.”



Back at work, I’m folding some dress shirts in the men’s department when a customer asks me to look up a sweater in a particular size. I take the item from his hands and head to the register. Distracted with my mind in Paris, I bump into a solid chest.

“Beg your pardon,” I apologize as I look up, beginning to move away.

The moment my eyes land on the man standing in front of me, I swear my heart stops beating momentarily. The world feels as though it stops spinning, and everything hangs in complete stillness.

“Blaire?”

Weak in the knees, I feel like I’m about to pass out. “Hello, Lawrence.”





Lawrence

STANDING IN FRONT OF ME is the woman who still haunts me in my dreams.

“Hello. I see that some things haven’t changed,” I say, attempting to smile but even that smile tastes bitter on my tongue.

She flinches as a blush rich in color spreads across her porcelain skin. Blaire, enchantress and tormentor, remains so beautiful even after all this time. “Actually, I work here.”

Surprised at her response, I begin to notice small changes in her appearance that at first didn’t register in my mind. Her long black hair is out of place, her clothes a little shabby, the color faded, and a pink watch on her wrist. But it’s the soft light in her eyes that arrests my attention. The hard, cynical look is missing.