Holy shit, Mia thought as she pulled into the front driveway of Harlan's mansion. The house made the Playboy mansion look like a dollhouse. The towering steeples mounted on the roof disappeared into the dark shadows of night above, ending in gleaming points of onyx.
It made her current living situation seem rather pathetic. Although that was already pretty sad to begin with. Not that Ruth's couch was bad--but come on; it wasn't exactly the Ritz.
The echoing of her heels clacking against the cobbles of the driveway was swallowed by the blasting bass that poured from the house, the loud music reverberating along the walls of her chest.
Cars flooded the drive way; a half a mile long walkway of paved cement lined in black stones. Who needed a drive way in Manhattan anyways?
Mia sunk deeper into her coat as the cold seeped through her gloves.
Jeez, she thought as the thumping music grew louder. You'd think an angst-filled teen was throwing a house party while their parents were away. Not a 20 something CEO.
As per Harlan's request, Mia had bought twelve bags of chips and dip. Six salt and vinegar, and six original. Along with the twelve tubs of frozen guacamole.
She'd asked about alcohol and had been greeted with no response other than the sound of Harlan's sharp laughter.
But now, feet away from the door, Mia was hit in the face with a wall of musky air; the smell of whiskey and beer coupled with cigarette smoke.
Okay, she thought, definitely did not need to buy any liquor.
Mia walked through the double doors and wanted to roll her eyes. Who the hell needed double doors made of mahogany and a mansion made of stone and onyx? Aside from a Disney villain, it wasn't necessary.
But the again, a lot about Harlan Veers was out of the ordinary. Everything from the galaxy in his eyes to the husky drawl of his voice was over the top. He would stick out of any crowd like an all black-clad sore thumb.
So she supposed it made sense he lived in a mansion like a Victorian King.
She pushed through the crowd, praying for the floor to open up and swallow her whole.
Yep.
She definitely did not belong here. For starters; she had all of her ribs, Mia thought as she eyed the sea of double zero women dancing, twerking their bony asses in time with the pounding music.
Mia had half a mind to offer them a cheeseburger. Yikes, just looking at then made her want a McDonald's double cheeseburger. Yeah, that sounded soooo good right now.
Mia's stomach grumbled at the thought.
She passed by dark alcove after dark alcove and turned down the endless halls of the mansion, walking by couples who clearly had no problem with PDA. Limbs tangled together like knots, couples falling into couples in an endless wave of passion.
The beads of sweat along their skin pulsed under the neon strobe lights. Blue shifted to purple only to morph into a lime green on repeat, painting the entire house to resemble a kaleidoscope.
Yep, Mia definitely did not belong here. She belonged...Okay, so she didn't exactly know where she belonged--but she knew it wasn't here.
Just find Harlan and you can leave, she told herself.
"Speak of the devil," Mia mumbled as she carved her way through the sweaty crowd.
Lounging against the marble counter top of the kitchen was Harlan, arms folded over his lithe torso. He wore black skinny jeans and a black skin tight T shirt. The cotton of his shirt clung to his muscles, perfectly outlining his sculpture-like torso.
He looked mythic under the neon lights. Too beautiful to live in reality.
Twin raven tattoos sat on both of his forearms, the inky wings outstretched from the crook of his elbows to the tip of his thumbs. The eyes were lined in red ink, staring right at her.
Mia's mouth went dry when she eyed his inked forearms; veins running along the smooth skin like water.
For a split second, she pictured those arms around her. Pictured those tapered fingers slowly unbuttoning her shirt as his mouth worked along the column of her throat--
Okayyyyy, Mia thought, let's cut off that really freaking healthy train of thought now, shall we?
Harlan looked up from the drink in his hand, those ebony eyes cutting across the crowded kitchen like a blade.
A smirk broke out across his sharp face, the edges as jagged as his cheekbones. "Fray," he drawled.
Mia smiled awkwardly, shouldering her way into the kitchen. "As you requested," she said while dumping the chips and containers of frozen dip onto the marble counter top.
She tired to ignore the disheveled state of his hair. As if someone had been running their fingers through it...
Mia shook her head as a pang of hurt speared through her chest.
Harlan pushed himself off the counter, coming to her side. Mia's breath caught slightly as his side brushed against hers; a lick of electricity lurching throughout her body from the contact.
"Thank you," he said. So close she could have sworn his lips brushed her ear. A shutter rattled down her spine. It took all of her strength not to fall into his broad chest at her back.
He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, the tattoos and muscles along his forearms shifting. Mia shook her head as he pulled out a twenty dollar bill.
"It's okay, most of it was on sale anyways," she said.
Harlan held out the twenty. "Think of it as gas money, then," he insisted. He pressed the bill into her hand. The rough callouses of his palms brushed over hers. Absently, she wondered how he'd gotten them. Actually, she wondered a lot about him. She wanted to know him. Know the sides of him beyond his good looks and consuming stare.
Mia wanted Harlan. Possibly more than she'd ever wanted anyone.
Mia shook her head again and awkwardly backed away.
She hated him.
Actually, she hated herself that he could reduce her to a ball of nerves. She was a grown ass woman. But around him? It was like she'd been reverted back into a sixteen-year-old girl.
"Like I said, it's okay," Mia said loudly so he could hear her over the music.
God, the way he stared at her: eyes narrowed and assessing, made her skin crawl. And not in a bad way. More like a 'Holy-shit-I-want-to-sleep-with-my-boss' kind of way. Which, Mia supposed was still pretty bad.
"I'm gonna go now." As she turned to leave, his hand caught her wrist. Harlan spun her around so she was facing him.
"Stay," he said. She was close enough that the warmth emanating from his body encased her, turning her insides into a frenzy of butterflies.
Mia threw a glance around at their surroundings and cringed. Yep. She was so going to pass. "I really don't think so, Harlan--"
Harlan stepped closer. He rested his hand on her hip, sparks sizzling the air from the contact. "What's stopping you, Fray?" he whispered. His eyes landed on hers. A genuine desire swam throughout his eyes. Like he really wanted her to stay.
Mia opened her mouth but no words came.
He could have anyone at this party. She was sure men and women would kill for the chance just to have Harlan notice them. And here he was, asking her to stay. What made her so special? As far as he knew, she was just some poor girl who got cheated on and told strangers her life story in dingy bars.
Harlan reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
For a second, just one, Mia let herself lean into him. "I guess...I mean, I could maybe--"
Just then, before Mia could finish her sentence, a surge of icy air cut through the room. As if an avalanche had wiped through the kitchen. "Who the fuck is this?" a woman snapped from behind Mia.
She spun around, pulling her body out of Harlan's grasp and stepping away from his warmth. She stumbled over the sudden movement. Mia caught herself on the lip of the kitchen's counter top.
Wow, was all she could think as she saw the woman. Her dark skin looked as smooth as velvet under the colored lights of the mansion and tendrils of electric blue hair framed her delicate features.
The woman eyed Mia with a menacing glare; her painted lips drawn tight. Her freshly manicured hands rested on her narrow hips, her neon orange nails strumming along the waist of her leather jeans. Although talons was a more accurate description of the woman's nails.
Harlan drew in a bored sigh and leaned back against the counter. "Mia," he said, mouth turned down with disinterest, "meet Lucy. Lucy, meet Mia."
Well, Mia thought as she saw Lucy's flared eyes and trembling fists, this is how I die. Yay...