Pointe of Breaking (4 page)

Mr. Underwear Model’s eyes glossed over like he was trying to un-hear my confession. His mouth dropped in horror. His eyebrows shot up in shock. His entire body stiffened.

Apparently having sex with Blake Rossi was a big fucking deal to more people than little, old
slutty
me. God, I couldn’t scrub my vagina hard enough to get the feeling of him out of me. What’s his name was still staring at me with a slack jaw. I reached over and snapped it shut with my finger.

“You’re not
Blake’s
Adeline are you?” he asked, cementing my disembarked role in my ex’s life.

The one and only
, I wanted to say, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk about him. Then it dawned on me that this guy had to be pretty close to my ex if he knew about me. Few people knew of our engagement. Thus, he had
to have close ties with the cheating bastard. Well, was that dandy?

I gave the underwear model the up and down, trying to place him. When I couldn’t, I dismissed the importance of it. He was
probably just another member in the infamous Rossi family. Blake had an older brother,
Braden
, of whom I’d never met but felt oddly connected to since he complained about his
cut-throat brother
nonstop. My ex could have easily had a younger sibling, and I wouldn’t have been the wiser since he
never
introduced me to them!
Ugh, I wished it didn’t sting so much that he failed to have me meet the parents after he asked me to marry him—

I hiccupped. It interrupted my train of thought. Oh, yes, I didn’t miss the irony. My ex could literally be a bastard since I never met his mother. Crap! There I was, thinking about Mr. Blake Unattainable Rossi. I pulled back another shot as I wondered if he was making love to his plastic, big-boobed, blonde wife.

“I
really
suck at this.” My words came out slurred.

He frowned. “At what?”

I waved away his silly question. This drinking game was seriously kicking my ass. I reached for another shot, but they were all tipped over.

I’d drunk all my friends!

To make matters worse, the bartender pretended not to notice that I was in dire need of another round. So I was forced to improvise. Luckily, my nameless-new-friend-the-underwear-model still had half a mix left. I reached for his glass, leaning close enough to catch the draft of his fuck-me-stupid cologne. Sweet heaven, was there nothing about him that wasn’t delicious? He should have a dildo named in his honor. I giggled, picturing it as lime-green while wondering how big it would be.

Even his frown was effing adorable. Wait… Why was he frowning? I shook my head and then lost my balance, falling face first into the guy’s chest. I did this stealthy urban-wall-climb to get myself back upright. He sort of pushed me upright.

“What am I going to do with
you
?” he asked.

I laughed. I didn’t know what to do about
that bitch
either.

I snatched up his drink and raised my eyebrow as if to challenge him to stop me. He opened his mouth to say something dumb, like I didn’t need any more drinks. So I held it away from him and focused on seeing just one of him—not two.

“I didn’t know Blake was married.”

His face contorted, like he was confused with my
immediate
reply to his comment about being Blake’s Adeline
. Who the hell else would I be? Damn it man, keep up!

“You’re drunk and not making any sense.” He furrowed his brow.

“You
just
asked me if I was Blake’s Adeline.” I hiccupped again.

“I think you need to slow down. You’re forgetting things.”

“
You
don’t get to tell me what I am and am not forgetting,” I slurred. “And you sure don’t get to judge me on my relationship with Blake.”

“He’s married.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“The ring wasn’t your first sign?” he said with a flick of annoyance.

“They come off,” I shot back but left it at that. There was no point in further explanation. He was clearly put off by my confession. Translation: he was Team Blake. So, my defense didn’t really matter, did it? I raised his glass. “To bad decisions!”

After swallowing the last of the contents, I tipped it upside-down next to my collection of shot glasses. Masking my hurt, I glanced back at… Shit, I
really
need to figure out his name. I was met with a gaze of mixed reaction—anger, concern and that ever-daunting lustful stare. However, all of them were glossed over with an air of judgment.

Why was he just sitting at the edge of his seat? Why wasn’t he doing anything? Why wasn’t he speaking? Oh hell, he was studying me like all my secrets would unravel the longer he stared. What the heck did he find so intriguing about me? Dread washed over me. He was probably sent here to collect as much information about me so he could report back to Blak—

He brought his hand up and wiped away a tear on my cheek, catching me off guard. I rubbed my damp cheek. When the hell did I start crying?

His hand fell to my legs. Until then, I hadn’t realized I’d been shivering. I was shocked. High quality material like fishnet stockings should really keep in more warmth. He lifted my chin so that I would focus on his face. He seemed to have picked up on the fact that I was losing pieces of the night.

“Blake did a number on you, didn’t he,” he stated more than asked.

My lip trembled. “I was just a number to him.”

Suddenly, he moved his hand from my chin, but he didn’t completely back off. From the darkness in his gaze, I got the impression he was sick of talking about my ex. I was too.

Idly tracing my fishnet stockings, he moved his leg over to my stool’s foot rest. His empathy was unexpected. I didn’t even know him. Yet, he seemed engrossed with my well-being. If he wasn’t, why would he stick around? Nevertheless, I couldn’t decipher his complex facial expressions anymore. Well, other than the obvious resounding attraction he shared with me.

Additionally, I couldn’t predict the movement of his thumb on my leg. I found it unnerving. I was trained to anticipate another person’s movement, yet he was a mystery. He had a stare that demanded absolute attention. His hands traced up and down my thigh. I trembled, but it had
nothing
to do with me being cold. It encouraged him. His fingers lingered lower under my knee, inching closer to that spot—that sweet spot that assaulted my senses and slammed me into full blown aroused. My eyes fluttered closed. When I managed to open them again, I found myself staring into the reflection of my desire. I wanted him—
wanted him.

“I should go before I make my third bad decision tonight.” I grabbed his hand so he’d stop making me wet in public.

“Third? You banged another dude tonight?” He released me like he’d catch an STD just by being near me.

Of course, my drunken stupor might have been misinterpreting his reactions. Conversely, I let him think that I was just a common whore. It was better this way. That way he wouldn’t be tempted to touch me anymore nor I him. He’d just break my heart like the other one. I slid off my barstool and leaned in close enough to whisper in his ear. Goosebumps trailed up his neck when I caught my breath.

“You aren’t the only guy who has
bang a ballerina
on his bucket list,” I said and turned away.

I forgot that he’d been resting his big dopy foot on my footstool. I tripped over his leg. The last thing I remembered was catching my fall via my face.

Fuck me. This had to be some kind of sick, twisted joke. I couldn’t be carrying Blake’s fucking secret ex-fiancé in my God damned arms right now. The brothers and I were the only ones that even knew about Blake and Adeline, but none of us had ever actually met her. He always kept her well hidden, like she was his dirty little mistress.

I clenched my jaw in sheer frustration. Then I clenched my fists at the irritating fact that the one girl I actually get a hard-on for has to be connected to that dick sack of a douche.

Not just connected.
Engaged.

Shit, how was I going to deal with this? I shifted her over my shoulder, attempting to shove the tutu fringe out of my face. It itched like hell. She weighed nothing. I supposed carrying her in my arms would have been the more gentlemanly way to escort her home whereas throwing her over my shoulder like a fireman allowed me to fondle those sexy as hell legs I’d been dying to touch all night.

Fuck she was gorgeous.

Fuck! She was Blake’s ex!

In some ways, I was glad she’d passed out because now I had time to come up with an explanation for how I knew Blake. I couldn’t tell her the truth, or I’d be breaking code
for sure
. And she seems like the type with a big mouth. Hell, I’d have a big mouth too if that dick took off his wedding ring, screwed me, and then left me high and dry.

God, Blake was such a douche ringer. Like so many of the other guys in my circle. I hated even calling it my circle. Too many of them were cheating bastards that’d normally I’d never give the time of day to. But being a legacy didn’t leave me much of a choice.

I finally reached my Ducati crotch rocket, and it dawned on me that I had no clue where this girl lived, much less how she was going to ride on my bike passed-the-fuck-out.

I shuffled her small body down my chest and gently lowered her onto a set of concrete steps. I’d parked right in front of a classic New York brownstone, but hopefully the owners hadn’t noticed. I inspected the tiny goose egg forming at her hairline and felt relieved to see it that hadn’t grown any bigger. Damn she went down hard. How many shots had she downed?

I pulled her pointe shoes off of my shoulder and dangled them dumbly from my fingers. A shiver rose up my spine thinking back to her on that stage and how utterly raw and beautiful she was. The fact that she was a ballerina was almost laughable. I wasn’t sure if my mother would love or hate this.

“A fucking ballerina.” I huffed out a disparaging laugh and squatted down in front of her. As I attempted to gently rouse her I said, “Adeline.”

She frowned. But didn’t move otherwise.

“Adeline!”
I shouted louder this time.

Her eyes flew wide open. “Stop talking. What are you doing to me?”

Her hand went instantly to the bump on her head. She flinched. I had to bite my tongue to hide my growing amusement at her grizzly bear expression.

“I’m taking you home,” I answered. “You need to tell me where you live and to stay awake long enough for me to get you there.”

“No way, I’ll get a cab,” she groaned and shoved me backwards.

I nearly landed on my ass. I caught myself and stood quickly when she moved up off the step.

“I’m taking you home,” I said, grabbing her arm softly. “We can do this the easy way…or the hard way. You pick.”

I glanced down and realized I was pointing at her with her shoes. She scowled and snatched them out of my hand.

“I’ve been picking the hard way my whole life—” She stopped suddenly. Her jaw rocked to the side as some type of realization hit her all at once. “What is your damn name?”

“It’s Leo.”

“How do you know my ex?” She looked up and down the street for a cab. “You guys are best friends aren’t you?” she added with a gasp, “Brothers? Oh my God, he has another brother! I’ve never even heard of you!”

“Blake. And. I. Are. Not. Related,” I ground out, feeling a desperate ache to tell her what I really thought of him. “Just let me take you home so I can actually sleep tonight and not think of you barefoot and half naked traipsing all over Manhattan in a God damned tutu.”

Suddenly her eyes grew wide. “Shiiiiit!”

“What?”

“Shit!”
she cried again.

“What!” I yelled, exasperated by her mood swings.

“I left my damn purse back at Joffrey. Now I have to face Higgins again, and she’s really PO’d at me.” She hiccupped on the last word and then giggled.

Fuck her hiccups were cute. I tried my damndest to conceal my smirk.

“What about my bar tab?” she screeched, looking suddenly serious again. “Oh my gosh! I drank and dashed!”

“I took care of it,” I shook my head dismissively. I clutched her arm and pulled her away from the curb. “I’m hoping that means you’ll let me take you home.”

She sighed heavily. “I have no choice I guess. I am trapped. I will accept your ride, kind sir.” She finished her sentence with a cute little bow and a giggle.

I chuckled and walked over to my bike, grabbing the helmet off the back. She strode over to my Ducati and looked like she might be sick.

“This is yours?” she asked.

“Yes, why?”

“God, you’re loaded…just like
him
,” she sneered.

That sobered me. This Blake talk was getting on my last nerve. I turned to face her straight on, shoving my helmet into her hands and said, “I am
nothing
like him. Will you just get on the fucking bike?”

“Will you stop swearing at me?” she ferociously snapped back.

That knocked me right down a peg. I momentarily paused, stunned by my own behavior. Damn this chick got under my skin. I was usually so level headed!

“I’m sorry. You’re right. That was rude. Adeline, would you please allow me to drive you to your house?” I eyed her thoughtfully. She was standing on a dirty NYC sidewalk, barefoot, rumpled and absolutely fucking gorgeous. The pang I felt on my insides at her connection to Blake stung. Why did she have to be connected to him of all people?

“Much better,” she replied sweetly. “I thank you for the offer.”

She pushed my helmet down over her head, and my heart constricted at how utterly adorable she looked. Ivory tutu, black fishnets, and that wild mane of chestnut hair sticking out beneath the helmet. Her clear eyes were surprisingly bright, considering she was passed out only a second ago.

“You good?” I asked as I threw my leg over the bike and then held my hand out to help her on.

She slid in snug behind me and pushed her ballet shoes up on her shoulder. My hand released hers and instinctively went to touch her leg.

“I’m good. But let’s keep your hands on the handlebars alright? I’ve been messed with enough for one night.” Her voice trembled slightly.

I shook my head trying to stifle my elevating aggravation. How could he seriously fuck his ex while his wife sat in the damn audience? God, that prick had some nerve! I wasn’t sure what kind of fire Adeline still held for him, but I hoped tonight’s performance snuffed it out for good.