• Eric Bolton •
12:17 P.M
By the time I stepped off the plane, bag slung over one shoulder, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin. The terminal buzzed with noise, people rushing past me in every direction. I brushed a hand through my hair, the delicate curls wrapping around my fingers like lubricated wool.
It had almost been ten minutes since I arrived here and still, there was no sign of my father.
A felt a growl building up in my chest, irritation slowly threatening to burst every cell in my body. Father promised me on the calls that he'd be here to pick me up. He had persuaded me to catch the early flight, and now, here I was, standing alone without an escort.
No wonder my mom didn't want me to come here.
She had said this to me over and over, that I could just cancel the trip and focus on something else like the rest of my friends. But I had told her, no.
I wanted a chance with my father, a moment alone with just the two of us.....maybe three of us, considering that he had his new fiance. But still, he could at least have showed up here, considering the fact that he had put me under so much pressure.
The least he could have done, was pretended he was happy to see me and showed up on time, like a good father.
I sighed, tucking my phone back into my hood.
I looked back at the crowds, at the numerous faces that were going up and down the terminals, hoping I could at least see a familiar face.
There were a few faces, mostly girls that were pretty catchy in my eyes. There was another that I saw, she was also looking at me, her hair dyed a bright pink that blended with her brown skin tone, and large black eyes. A set of freckles framed her cheeks, cutting past the bridge of her nose to the other side. She was cuddling her puppy, her other hand caressing the delicate set of wild furs on the back of its head.
Not bad, I thought.
But now wasn't the time to be flirting or looking for pretty girls to hang out with. I was supposed to be looking for my father, or anyone I might remember from his circle. Maybe Sam?
Oh right, Sam.
I still remembered him.
He used to drive me around New York back in the day, mostly to the coffee shops and the amusement parks. But I was still a kid by then. I'm pretty sure that if he saw me now, he'd be shocked by how much I have grown. Even my voice had grown thicker, compared to before.
But who cares?
Just then, someone moving through the crowds stole my attention.
Her hair caught my eye — tumbling ashen curls that framed her back, a few strands falling over a pair of glasses that were perched neatly on her nose. Her lips were heart-shaped, naturally pink, the kind you didn't forget once you saw them. She wore a sleeveless blouse, tucked perfectly into a pencil skirt, her heels clicking softly on the tiles as she walked, eyes glued to the iPad in her hand.
She lifted her head, her eyes darting to and fro from the different faces that walked past her, that walked us. She seemed frustrated, as if whatever or whoever she was looking for, wasn't her first priority.
But who could that be? I wondered, tightening my hand into a fist. I was curious, unable to stop looking at her.
But then, she shifted her gaze, and our eyes met.
She exhaled sharply, relief itself, before raising her hand in a small wave. Wait, was she waving at me? But....no, I must have been mistaken.
And yet, with that unsure hesitation, I lifted mine back, waving at her. I wasn't sure if she was waving at me, or someone else.... I just wasn't sure of anything. But, there was something I couldn't ignore about her.
Something that made my blood boil, that made my veins feel like they were about to burst. But why? What was this feeling that I felt towards her? It couldn't be lust, no, not even once.
She was just a stranger, someone I was probably never going to see again once she finds whoever she was looking for.
But judging from her face, what if she was looking for her husband? But no, she couldn't be married yet. I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the thoughts that were starting to rise in my mind.
It's not her husband.....maybe her boyfriend? Ugh....!
She started walking towards me, closing the distance, her heels tapping with calm assurance on the tiled floor until she stopped in front of me.
I took a hesitant step backwards, staring down at her. At least she was shorter than me... otherwise it could have been awkward.
"Are you Eric?" She asked.
I held back a smirk. At least my father had sent someone catchy to be my escort. I liked this. Wait, did this mean I was going to spend more time in her presence? Maybe, but I didn't mind.
I cocked my head. "And who can you be?"
"Ilsa," the name rolled off her tongue like a melody I wanted to keep repeating. She sighed, the faintest edge of annoyance threading her tone. "Your father sent me."
Well, that much I knew. My jaw tightened. "He promised he'd be here himself."
"He had a business meeting somewhere. I'm pretty sure he'll be back soon enough."
One more reason why I shouldn't have come here. Father loved his work more than anything. Why would he go through the trouble of rushing me to come if he had other things he wanted to attend? If he thought sending me a pretty face could help calm me down, he was entirely wrong.
"Couldn't he send someone else to pick me up?" I snapped.
She arched a brow at me. "I don't think I have an answer to that."
A humorless smirk tugged at my lips. "Guess you're no help, then."
Her eyes flickered with something sharp like patience thinning. Talk about her eyes, they were a piercing shade of emerald, almond shaped beneath the shards of her spectacles. She looked magnificent, like something not of this world.
I leaned closer, dropping my voice just enough to sting. "So what are you exactly? My father's mistress, or…?"
Her brows shot up. "Excuse me?"
I grinned, teeth flashing. "What? Is there something wrong with my question?"
Her lips pressed together, but her voice stayed cool. "I think it'll do us both good if you showed me a little respect."
Was I making me angry? Wow. This was interesting. I could do this all day.
I let out a low chuckle, leaning my weight on one leg. "What are you gonna do? Call the cops on me?"
"Maybe," She didn't blink. Instead, she just held my stare, glasses catching the light, a mischievous glint beneath her calm. "Or…I might just arrest you myself. Keep you locked up in my basement."
For some reason, she was finding her more and more interesting.
My grin spread wider, a purr threading my words as I leaned in closer. "If only you knew how much I love chains and whips… you wouldn't be offering me something so tempting."
"I don't have time waste on you," she said, tucking her iPad beneath her arm."I mean, it's pretty clear our reasoning capacities are different."
I cocked a brow, lips tugging into a crooked grin. "What do you mean by that?"
Her emerald eyes glinted as her lips into the faintest smirk. Whatever she was about to say, I'm pretty sure it was worth it. "I mean…" she tilted her head, looking me up and down, "you really look like someone still struggling with puberty."
Okay, this definitely wasn't something I was expecting. The words hit me like a slap, and I opened my mouth, preparing to throw back something. But before I could say it, she stopped me.
Her cold finger pressed against my lips and I narrowed my eyes, suspicion beneath them. What game was she playing? How could someone just be this confident?
"I don't want to hear another word from you," she whispered with a steady voice. "I'm not in the mood for arguments, especially not with a spoiled, messed-up, overgrown teenager who thinks he's cleverer than he really is."
The finger stayed on my lips a beat longer before she drew it back slowly, but my eyes never left hers. I don't know if she was trying to provoke me or not. But whatever it is she was doing, it was definitely not working the way she planned.
I hope.
My heart hammered in my chest, blood puslinh so loud, I could almost hear it. I wanted to smirk, to throw another jab, but my throat felt dry.
She turned slightly, gesturing toward the exit. "Now, grab your bag and follow me."
I swallowed hard, watching the sway of her curls as she turned on her heel.
Damn.
She was definitely my type.
Maybe coming to New York wasn't such a bad day after all? Only time will tell.