Chapter 8

Fifteen minutes later, I park the car in front of Nellie’s, the hole in the wall, twenty-four-hour diner a walking distance from Hudson River Park. Before my photo from the press conference was plastered everywhere, I’d enjoy occasional sojourns here, where they had the best pastrami and rye I’d ever tasted.

As I step out of the car, a cool breeze sifts through the air, carrying the scent of the briny waters of the Hudson and motor oil from the slick pavement. A dense moisture clings to the air, but the rain seems to give us a break. I look up at the oppressive dark clouds lit up by the city lights, a sight, which, mere hours ago, felt heavy and dreary, but now doesn’t bother me.

Because of her. A bright ray of sunlight cutting through the darkness.

I swing to her side to open the door. She steps out gracefully, her slender, model-esque legs sliding out of the car first, her hands pressed over the hem of her dress.

My eyes rove over her face—something about her is familiar, but I can’t place it. I’ve never seen her at The Orchid before, but she comes from money and manners. I’d bet my fortune on it. Perhaps she’s a new member?

“Where are we?”

“My favorite sandwich shop in the city.”

I usher her in and take a seat at my usual spot, a corner booth with a view of Hudson Yards. She looks around and eyes the classic American diner decor of reds and whites washed in stark florescent lights, gleaming chrome interiors with white signs detailing the specials of the day.

A few tables are occupied by teenagers who are busy looking at their cell phones, but the diner is otherwise empty. The smell of freshly brewed coffee mixes with the mouthwatering aroma of sizzling bacon on the griddle.

Nellie, the owner, steps toward us, her hand retrieving a pad from the pocket of her white apron. She has her usual toothpick in her mouth, her graying hair a disheveled mess. She used to tell me people were here for her food, not to look at her.

Nellie smiles brightly as she spots me with Anna and she waggles her brows.

“Well, nice to see you, M—”

“Nellie, it’s good to see you too.” I cut her off before she calls me by my real name. “This is my friend, Anna.”

Anna beams at Nellie, her smile sending a current of electricity down my spine. “Hello! Silas said this is the best sandwich shop in the city.” Unlike some other women in my circles, Anna doesn’t scrunch her nose at the location or the waitstaff.

She’s beautiful and kind.

Nellie lifts her brow. “ Silas did, huh? Well, whaddya know.”

I roll my eyes and give her a quelling look. “Can we have a pastrami and rye to share, please? A coffee for me and…” I glance at Anna.

“The same, thank you, Nellie.” Anna smiles warmly at the woman, who beams right back at her before walking back.

I like her , Nellie mouths to me before disappearing into the kitchens. Shaking my head, I hide my smile behind my fist.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, followed by a bolt of lightning swiping its tendrils across the sky. It appears I spoke too soon, and the malevolent weather is back full force. The windows rattle as rain pelts against the glass once more. An insidious weight crawls on top of my chest and settles there .

Ryland loves storms but they’ve always sent ripples of unease through me, a foreboding feeling of something terrible about to happen. Whenever the weather rages outside, I always feel out of breath and about to crawl out of my skin. Perhaps twins aren’t always the same.

Anna appears unaffected. “So, Silas. Why have you brought me here?”

“Too lowbrow for your taste?”

“Of course not!” She rears back, clearly offended. “I’d take this diner over fancy dinners any day of the week. But you,” she fiddles with her fingers, “you surprise me.”

Her words send a jolt to my heart. Maxwell Anderson never surprises anyone. He’s the frigid king, the cold CEO of one of the largest companies in the world. He’s a rule follower, the dutiful first son of an illustrious old-money family. There’s no room for surprises.

But tonight, you’re just Silas, a man having a late-night meal with a beautiful woman he just met. You’re a rule breaker.

A server delivers our coffee and I take a sip and smile into the cup.

“You know, I feel like I’ve met you before or seen you somewhere. But we haven’t, right?” she asks.

I glance at her from above the rim of the cup, my fingers clutching the handle tightly. Any moment now, she’ll recognize me from the press conference, and then things will be different. She’ll think I’m insane or unstable, as the press has described me, or she’ll see me as a man with unlimited funds and power.

“I don’t think I’d forget a face like yours,” I murmur.

A streak of white light flashes through the room and the diner plunges into pitch blackness.

“Ah!” Anna shrieks.

I grab her hand in the dark, and there it is, the curious zap when our hands touch, the same electrifying sizzle I felt in the car, the same feeling I attributed to the adrenaline and anticipation of the race.

Her breath hitches .

“Oh darn. The wind must’ve knocked down our power line again,” Nellie grumbles from far away. “Lucky for you two, your sandwich is ready. I’ll bring y’all candles from the back.”

Moments later, Nellie hustles over and sets down a crystal votive, its lonely flame flickering and casting dancing shadows on the booths.

“God, I’m such a wuss,” Anna mumbles, sounding clearly embarrassed at herself.

“A sudden power outage would freak anyone out.”

I look at my hand, still intertwined with hers, and she does the same before hastily withdrawing.

I stop myself from reaching out and snatching back those slender fingers, keeping her tethered to me.

Frowning at the sentiment, I glance out the windows as another rumble of thunder pierces the silence, followed by a flash of lightning.

Dishes clinking against the table draw my attention as Nellie sets down two small plates and her famous pastrami sandwich.

“Thank you,” Anna murmurs, her face still flushed prettily, and reaches out to take the plates.

I grab her hand, unable to resist the lure of her smooth skin.

“Let me.” I motion to the sandwich before carefully portioning it and handing half to her.

She grins, her tongue darting out to lick at those luscious lips again.

My heart pounds in my chest, and I quickly take a bite of my sandwich. I groan at the taste of the tender meat blending with the spiciness of the mustard and the tartness of the pickles and the bread.

“This is sooo good. Excellent choice, Silas.” Anna licks the juices dribbling from her lips.

The warm glow of the candlelight lovingly caresses the smooth planes of her face, and those wayward, inappropriate thoughts of mine drift back to front and center. I wonder how silky her skin would feel under my lips. Would she bloom under my touch? My blood heats and warmth gathers in my groin .

“What? Why are you staring at me? Do I have food on my dress?” She looks down.

I shutter my gaze and shake my head. “No, you look fine.” Perfect .

Where are these insane thoughts coming from?

“So, Silas, what do you do? You’re at an event hosted by The Orchid, so you must be someone important.”

“I can say the same for you now, can’t I?”

She narrows her eyes. “Playing the dark and mysterious card, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t you answer a question from me and I’ll do the same?”

Anna takes another bite and delivers another sensual lick of her lips, which I’m sure she doesn’t even realize she’s doing. “Fine. That’s fair. I accept. I’ll ask first. What do you do, Silas?”

“This and that. I’m in the upper management of an entertainment company. It’s boring.” The biggest entertainment and hospitality company in the world, but I don’t add that, of course. “Tell me about your year of yeses. What’s that all about?”

She holds up her finger as she chases down her half-gone sandwich with a large gulp of coffee. The woman can eat, despite her slender frame. It’s refreshing, unlike the high-society women I’ve dated in the past, who’d poke around their salads like the thought of calories made them full.

“So, my friend, Taylor, gave me a book last year, The Wonderful and Terrifying Year of Yeses , and it detailed a cancer survivor who decided life was too short to be afraid of trying new things. So, she embarked on a journey to say yes to anything anyone offered—new foods, experiences, etcetera. It helped her gain a new perspective on life and instead of feeling weak or unlucky, she felt empowered.”

She clasps her hands in front of her expectantly. “I want to do the same. I’m reaching the quarter-life mark and have followed the plan everyone has laid out for me until now. I’m tired of it and decided life won’t change if I just sit here and do nothing. I need to create my own choices and make my own decisions. I just started a little over a month ago and while I call it the ‘year of yeses,’ it’s really a mindset change I’m going after.”

Quarter-life mark. She’s not even twenty-five yet. I’m twelve years older than her and yet, she seems to have the courage I don’t have to carve out a different path for herself.

“And how is it turning out? This year of yeses?”

“Terrifying.” She gives me a droll look and I chuckle. “But also awesome. I tried skydiving two weeks ago—something I’ll never do again. I got a pet, even though my apartment doesn’t allow any. I nearly lost my life in an illegal street race. And now, I’m eating in a diner at three in the morning during a blackout with a strange man.” She frowns. “Hey, that’s two questions.”

“I’m sneaky that way.” I stir my coffee. “What else do you want to know?”

“If you get to do one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Art—painting or sketching.”

“Yes! I knew it. I knew you were an artist!” Her eyes light up and she unleashes a dazzling smile.

My heart skips several beats. “How?”

She waves her hands in front of my face. “You have this aura about you. Bad boy looks but a sensitive soul. Don’t look at me that way. I’m just telling you my gut feeling.”

“Bad boy, huh? And you still got into my car. That isn’t very smart of you.”

Anna grins, the tips of her white teeth flashing in the dim space. I rake in a ragged inhale. She’s like a cup of hot chocolate and a roaring fire in the middle of a blizzard.

My fingers twitch with the ache to paint again.

“Definitely agree with you on that. If it weren’t for the year of yeses, there’d be no way on earth I’d go anywhere near you. You, mister, you’re bad news. ”

“Regretting getting in my car already?” I bite back my grin before polishing off the rest of my sandwich, finding her plate already empty. She shakes her head and smiles shyly at her plate.

“Your favorite artist?” I ask.

“Frida Kahlo. Her work is vibrant, her style is impeccable. She marches to the beat of her own drum with a courage I hope to copy someday.”

“Favorite color?”

“Hmmm…” she murmurs, her forehead pinched as she considers my question carefully. “I don’t think I have one. They’re all beautiful shades of the world. Even brown, which many complain is ugly, represents nature to me—the soil, tree trunks, and branches. But if I have to choose one, I’ll say it’s atrovirens .”

My brow flies up high. “What?” Even I haven’t heard of that color before.

“It means dark green in Latin, but it’s really more of a deep teal. You know what’s interesting? Most people don’t know there’s actually five percent red in the color.”

She looks up and grins. “It’s like the red is a secret you’ll only discover if you care enough to look past the blues and the greens.” She sighs happily. “It’s a beautiful, soothing color.”

“You know your colors.” The inner artist in me is pleased.

“I do.” She frowns. “Hold on. Why has this conversation become a one-sided interview of me?”

“You are interesting. Far more interesting than me.” And I’m a greedy bastard, wanting to absorb her warm rays of sunshine on this stormy night, bathing myself in brightness and warmth before I embark on my uninspiring, dismal future.

“What excites you about your future?” I ask.

She takes the hair tie off from her ponytail, and her thick, silky black tresses tumble over her shoulders. My fingers clench with an urge to wrap those strands around my hand and pull, baring her slender throat to me. I’m going crazy .

She lifts her eyes and stares at me as if knowing the insane thoughts in my mind. The tawny greens of her eyes glow in the candlelight.

Wild moors in spring. Wildflowers in bloom. Irresistible magic.

“Carving a future for myself. Saving unwanted animals one at a time. Creating sustainable clothing for the public that doesn’t harm the environment. Making my own choices without worrying about what other people think. If I’m lucky, having a family of my own.”

She frowns at the last sentence and my chest squeezes. She wants a family too, just like me.

Anna blows out a breath, excitement slowly seeping back into her voice. “Anyway, the avenues are endless, don’t you think? At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. What about you?”

I pause, and the chasm that has receded in the background for the past two hours rises to the forefront. I watch the light from the flame dance on her face. This fairy must be a mirage of my swirling mind. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I want to find an answer for her, something as inspiring as her passionate speech, but I come up empty.

“To survive.”

Beads of sweat form on my forehead under her scrutiny, and I have the strongest urge to look away from her inquisitive stare—I don’t want her to see right through me, right to the deep, dark secrets haunting me, keeping me up at night.

Standing up, I toss a few bills onto the table and reach for her hand. “Come. One last adventure before your night ends.”