Sweet Hope Page 8

  “Are you…?” Her fingers moved, stroking at my muscled back, making my skin feel like it was on fire. “Are you okay?”

  My instinct was to pull away and tell her to go to hell. Push her away like I did everyone, but as looked into her eyes, I couldn’t fucking move… I wanted those hands to move lower, to touch every part of me.

  Aliyana’s hand moved up, her fingers brushing past my hair until her index finger ran over my short beard. “Elpi?”

  Reaching up, I gripped her hand to throw it off my face. Her breath hitched as our hands touched, but I held on… Fuck knows why, but I held her hand against my cheek, my heart slamming crazy fast in my chest.

  A flush of red raced up from Aliyana’s chest to her neck and cheeks. Her tongue ran over her full pink lips and her eyelids lowered as she stared at me, just breathing… the two of us just fucking breathing.

  “Elpi…” Aliyana hushed and began moving toward me. I stared at those full lips and wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to slam her up against the wall and fuck her until neither of us could stand.

  But I couldn’t… We couldn’t.

  Squeezing her hand, I pulled it from my face and laid it at her side. Disappointment showed in her hurt expression, and I reluctantly moved to the middle of the gallery, giving us some space.

  “Elpi?” Aliyana called from behind me. As I faced her, she was playing with a loose strand of hair that had fallen from her band. She looked so goddamn cute and innocent, looking at me with those huge exotic eyes, her long lashes fluttering against her high cheeks. “Are you okay to talk about the others?” she asked shyly.

  No, I wanted to say. I’m done with all this exhibition shit, dredging up things from my past that I don’t ever wanna face.

  Instead, I took a deep breath and nodded.

  A relieved smile spread on her face, and she moved to stand beside me. I immediately felt her warmth, and the air became thick around us. Aliyana dipped her head and blushed, and I knew she felt the weird pull between us too.

  Why did everything in my life have to be so fucking complicated?

  “So which one should we do next?” she asked.

  “I don’t care,” I said, my hands in pockets, feeling my smokes… I really wanted a damn smoke.

  Aliyana started walking straight for my biggest piece, the piece, and I stopped dead in my tracks. It took Aliyana a second to realize I wasn’t behind her. In fact, I’d turned my back, feeling like a damn crack had splintered through my chest.

  I couldn’t deal with facing what that sculpture meant to me right now.

  “Elpi, what—”

  “I’m not going there,” I snapped.

  “Okay,” Aliyana said cautiously. “Do you want to choose another one?”

  I closed my eyes and felt myself relax. Making myself scan the room, almost all the pieces tore me apart. All of them had meaning… meanings that were too hard to face. But I could get through a few.

  Walking to a smaller piece, an hourglass with a hand reaching up through the sand, I motioned with a nudge of my head for Aliyana to join me.

  “This one’s okay?” she asked, and I threw her a single nod. “Do we have a title?”

  As I looked at the hand of the man drowning in the sand, I felt the suffocation, the impossible situation he was in… the heavy sand pulling him further and further down…

  “Downfall,” I blurted out.

  Just like before, I felt Aliyana’s eyes scrutinizing my face, probably trying to read me more, but this time I stayed stoic.

  “Downfall,” she repeated, scribbling in her notepad. “And the inspiration?”

  *****

  After the sixth piece, I felt emotionally and physically drained.

  “Do you want to call it quits for tonight?” Aliyana asked followed by a yawn.

  Exhaling a relieved sigh, I ran my hands down my exhausted face. “Yeah,” I replied, and for the first time since I’d come into the gallery, my muscles seemed to lose tension… then began aching like fuck.

  As I worked out the cricks in my neck, I heard Aliyana move beside me. I stared down at her. She was blushing.

  She was affected by me… And I liked that more than I should have.

  “So…” she said quietly, edging even closer. My palms began sweating as she approached. My heart thundering in my chest. “Thank you for doing this tonight. I can’t believe how powerful your words are against your already breathtaking works of art.”

  I fought a smirk. Coming from any other curator, I was sure it would’ve been just a line to crawl up the sculptor’s ass, but not her. I saw in her eyes that she loved all this crap. And even crazier, she loved my work… the twisted, fucked-up sculptures from my mind.

  How that was possible I had no idea. I was convinced if she actually knew who I was, what I’d done, she’d see the sculptures in a completely different light; repulsion, and a fucking lame attempt to gain forgiveness.

  “It’s late, or early, depending on how you want to look at it,” she laughed and shyly stared at the floor.

  I frowned, wondering why she was still talking. When she looked up at me through her long lashes, the view of her in face in the moonlight stole my breath. If I were a painter, I would’ve created a damn masterpiece off that one stunning memory alone.

  “Are you hungry?” My frown deepened, and I watched her swallow. Her hand lifted to twirl that same loose strand of hair around her finger. “I… I mean, would you like to get breakfast with me? That is if you’re hungry?” she asked nervously.

  I opened my mouth to say no, when my stomach growled. Truth was, I was fucking starving.

  Aliyana, on hearing my stomach, paused, then smiled a dimpled megawatt smile, the beauty of it nearly knocking me the fuck out. This time, there was no smirk, just a reluctant smile spreading on my lips.

  It felt strange to smile. I hadn’t in so long.

  “Elpi,” Aliyana said through a uncontained laugh. “You actually smiled!” Her face was all lit up like lights at Christmas, and I shook my head.

  “Yeah, don’t get used to it. It’s a rare occurrence.”

  Aliyana stepped back and put her hand on her chest. “And you have a sense of humor too?”

  I watched her laughing, and my chest tightened to the point I thought the muscles would tear underneath my skin.

  As Aliyana gradually lost her laughter, she stepped even closer to me, her tits brushing against my shirt. I wasn’t smiling anymore. No, now I was breathing hard, fighting the urge to take her in my arms and smash my lips to hers.

  Aliyana blinked, then blinked again without saying a word, only to then offer, “Breakfast?”

  Lifting my hand, I couldn’t help but take that long strand of hair that fell over her cheek and tuck it back into her messy knot.

  Hearing Aliyana’s breath hitch at my touch, I couldn’t resist leaning down, inhaling the scent of her hair… lavender.

  Aliyana’s firm tits brushed against my thin T-shirt, her slim thigh pressing firm against my hard cock. Her warm, minty breath blew over my cheek, bristling my beard, when I reached into my back pocket, pulling out my car keys.

  “I’ll drive,” I said roughly, moving back, snapping the unbearable tension that had cocooned us.

  Breathless, Aliyana pressed her hand against her stomach, getting her bearings. “Okay,” she managed to say and fell into step behind me as I burst through the curtains, hightailed it out of the exit and gasped in the cool Seattle air, light rain splashing against my heated face.

  Hearing the door close behind me, I pulled out a smoke and placed it between my lips. I inhaled a long, sweet drag, the smoke filling my lungs, calming me the fuck down.

  Without glancing behind me, I pounded pavement to my car and opened the passenger door, leaving it open for Aliyana. As I slumped into the driver’s seat, Aliyana dropped down beside me, her brown eyes still glazed from our moment under the dome.

  Lifting my smoke, I inhaled a long drag, then flicked the ash into t
he ashtray on the dash. “Where we going?” I asked, looking straight ahead through the blurred-with-rain windshield. “I don’t know Seattle yet.”

  Aliyana sucked in a breath. “Neither do I. I can only think of one place.”

  “Is it private, you know, not busy with a shitload of folk?”

  “It’s small.”

  Switching on the ignition, I stubbed out my Marlboro cherry, lit another smoke, and let it sit on my bottom lip.

  “Direct me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Axel

  The longer we drove, the more I knew I shouldn’t be here with this woman. But I was, and honestly, I wasn’t gonna be going anywhere. I was going to breakfast with Aliyana for no other reason than I couldn’t go anywhere else. She’d asked, and I’d agreed. There was no other choice.

  “It’s just over there,” Aliyana said, pointing to a small café tucked away on the waterfront. I laughed to myself. It was just three blocks from my studio.

  In minutes, I’d parked the El Camino and we got out, the sunrise starting to break. No one was around except the market workers setting up for the day and early buyers waiting for the fresh fish to come in from the boats.

  Aliyana and I entered the café overlooking the Sound, where we were told to pick wherever we wanted to sit. The guys who ran the place were still setting up, so I walked ahead of Aliyana to the farthest corner and sat down. The place was full of Italian flags, the servers Latino in their features and clearly Italian too.

  I wondered if she’d picked this place because she’d worked out my heritage or whether it was because she just liked the coffee.

  As I dropped to the seat, Aliyana sat down opposite me and took another glance around the empty café. We were alone. Good.

  “This okay for you? This empty café?” she asked with a teasing smile.

  “Yeah,” I replied, and she smiled wider at my curt response.

  And there she went again, amused at my attitude. Most people would have given up on trying to talk to me by now, but it was like she didn’t get that I liked to be left alone. That I didn’t want people round me… I wanted to just fucking be.

  “You’re not one for small talk, are you?”

  Aliyana’s eyes looked tired. Fuck, I knew mine did too, but hers didn’t lose their playful glint as she stared at me, awaiting my answer.

  “Not really.”

  She laughed again.

  A server came to us then, calling back to a server in the kitchen to set up the patio. He’d spoken in perfect Italian. The waiter arrived at our table, his eyes flaring as they fell on Aliyana.

  The guy flushed bright red and fumbled his notepad and pen in his hand. Something tightened in my stomach as Aliyana smiled up at him and the fucker flashed her a toothy smile.

  Feeling fucked off that this asshole was hovering, I sat back in my chair and glared. He soon met my eyes, and when he did, his eyes immediately dropped to the notepad and he nervously asked us what we wanted.

  “Caffè doppio e una brioche alla crema,” I ordered.

  The server looked up and, although his expression was still guarded, he asked, “Tu parli Italiano?”

  “Si,” I replied.

  “Da dove vieni?” he asked, wanting to know where I was from.

  “No, sono Americano. I miei genitori loro sono Italiani,” I said, telling him my mamma and papa were Italian, not me.

  Fuck, I’d barely spoken Italian in years. Couldn’t bring myself to. I only ever spoke Italian to Mamma and my brothers. But since getting out of prison, it hadn’t felt right. Mamma was gone. I couldn’t bring myself to speak her mother tongue for more than a few sentences without it gutting me inside.

  The server must have seen my body stiffen and my eyes drop to the table as he moved on to talk to Aliyana. I didn’t even hear what she ordered, too busy trying to breathe through the pain ripping me apart.

  The feel of Aliyana’s warm hand placed over mine had my eyes darting up to clash with hers.

  “Are you okay? You went real quiet on me just now. I was calling your name, but you were lost in your thoughts.”

  “I’m good.”

  We sat in silence while the server brought our coffees. Once he’d left us alone, Aliyana took a packet of sugar, poured it into her coffee, then fiddled with the packet.

  “So.” She broke the silence. “You speak fluent Italian?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve been told Elpidio is an old Italian name.” She lifted her latte to her lips, but her eyes never left mine, imploring me to answer her question.

  “My folks were Italian, so I speak it. Bilingual,” I replied evasively, throwing my double espresso down my throat and signaling to the server to bring me another.

  “Yo también,” Ally said, and I swear my dick hardened in response to her purring that fucking Spanish my way.

  Her face lit up, and she added, “Hablo español, no italiano, aunque puedo entender algo de lo que dijiste.”

  Fuck porn. A chick as hot as Aliyana Lucia sitting in front of me, hair ruffled in a messy knot and shirt gaping, talking to me in Spanish was the hottest thing I’d ever fucking seen.

  I figured out from certain words in that sentence that she spoke Spanish and not Italian, though she could understand a lot of what I’d said. I couldn’t help but flick my chin in appreciation. I could kind of get what she was saying to me too. At least a little.

  She laughed at me, and it hit me that she’d pulled me away from drowning in dark thoughts about my mamma. She’d pulled me through… again.

  The server stood beside our table with a tray full of pastries and coffee. “You can put that down, ragazzo,” I said, and the server dropped the tray in front of us.

  “Gracias,” Aliyana said in a friendly tone as he handed her a croissant smothered in Nutella.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she picked lumps of the flaky croissant and put them in her mouth, licking the chocolate spread off her fingers.

  She had no fucking clue how beautiful she was… and the effect she had on men.

  “You got a man?” I suddenly blurted.

  Aliyana froze, her tongue just about to lick a blob of Nutella from her thumb. A blush coating her cheeks, she lowered her hand and grabbed for a napkin.

  Clearing her throat, she shook her head and whispered, “No.”

  As she whispered the word, I felt myself relax. I hadn’t even realized I’d been bracing myself for her to tell me she had some rich, good-looking fuck as a boyfriend… someone who treated her like a queen.

  “Why?” I asked abruptly, and Aliyana jerked back in her chair. I shifted on mine too, hearing a second too late how aggressive that sounded. Aliyana’s eyes had dropped to the table.

  I was such a fuck-up.

  Leaning forward, elbows on the table, I added, “Just thought a woman like you would have a line of men a mile long following you ‘round.” I ran my hand down my beard, fucking embarrassed. I was shoving my foot further into my mouth at every turn.

  And this was why I preferred to be left the hell alone.

  A smile tugged on Aliyana’s mouth and she shrugged. “Just never met a man that I really connected with, you know? Never felt that bolt of lightning that leaves me breathless, I suppose.”

  “No boyfriends?” I asked, now curious.

  Her nose crinkled up, those dimples of hers popping out all over the place. “Not really. I’ve kinda thrown myself into my work these last few years. Never met a man who’s my type.” The way she blushed bright red and fiddled with the empty sugar packet again had me itching to ask what was her type.

  After seconds of wondering, I finally just fucking asked. “And what’s that?”

  Aliyana took a deep breath, her full tits pushing against her shirt, and met my eyes. “A man who’s protective, strong, dark… artistic, passionate… cultured…” She trailed off, rubbing her pink lips together, and I froze.

  Her brown eyes pierced mine like she could see through to my f
ucking dark soul. I shifted under her scrutiny and felt my heart begin to race.

  Forcing myself to look away, I picked up my brioche and ate it in silence. That fog of tension was back around us again, but I pushed it out of my mind. I just needed to get through this breakfast.

  “Can I ask a question?” Aliyana said, and I sat back in my chair, my brioche now demolished. I flicked my chin in response, giving her the okay. “Why don’t you want anyone to know who you are?”

  And there it was. The one question everyone wanted to know. Why was Elpidio a recluse?

  I shrugged. “Not into the whole fame thing.”

  “Then why the exhibition? And why now?” She pushed.

  Glancing out over the Puget Sound, I raked my hair back with my fingers. What was I meant to say? I was locked up for distributing ‘class A’ drugs on the University of Alabama’s property, and in the process, nearly ruined my brother’s shot at the NFL. Oh, that’s right, you don’t know. My brother is Austin Carillo, number eighty-three for the Seahawks and regarded one of the best wide receivers in the country. But that’s now. A few years back, I was running a street crew dealing drugs. Oh, and I sold some fucked-up snow to a Tide player and he OD’d. So I’ve been serving ten years inside but got out a couple weeks ago after only five years because I ratted out a big-time cocaine supplier.

  I couldn’t tell her none of that shit, so I answered, “Vin wanted it, and I told him as long as I didn’t have to deal with people, he could do what the fuck he wanted.”

  Aliyana’s head tilted to the side as she regarded me. “And how and where did you meet Vin? I can’t imagine you ran in the same circles.”

  If only she knew.

  She edged forward, waiting for my answer.

  “Around.”

  “Around?” she questioned.

  “Around,” I said a bit firmer to let her know I wasn’t saying shit.

  Slumping back in her chair, she began eating again, only pausing to quietly say, “You’ve gotten me more than intrigued, Elpi.”

  My forehead pulled down to a frown.