Page 2 of Cruel Pawn (Cruel Duet #1)

Arden

W as it possible to fall in love at first catastrophe? If you could even call spilled coffee a catastrophe when it bought me time with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

She sat across from me in one of Weasel Bean’s brown leather booths, her doll-like amber eyes glued to her phone as she checked for updates from the vet.

I took advantage of her distraction to stare at the woman, appreciating everything derail, down to the long black eyelashes that kissed her cheeks as she hastily typed something in her phone with long fingers the exact shade of my caramel macchiato.

She was so damn pretty. I fought the urge to prop my head on my hand and just gaze at her.

A corner of her mouth flicked up, and my eyes latched onto it, imagining her smiling at me like that.

She was an angel in a whipped-cream-smeared dress the colour of dried blood.

I wanted to strip it off her body and cover her in hot, open- mouthed kisses and—I was getting out of hand.

Shit, all she’d done was peer up at me with those disarming eyes, her face soft with a smile I very rarely experienced aimed in my direction, and I was already thinking about keeping her.

But why shouldn’t I keep her? Her long hair called to my fingers, making them ache to run through the long, black strands.

The honeyed curve of her cheek tempted my lips with the perfect place for a kiss.

The collar of her dress scooped just low enough for me to glimpse her collarbones.

I imagined the way she’d arch up into me as I dragged my tongue along their sharp edges.

And why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I keep her?

“All done,” she said, lifting her head with a smile and catching me staring.

I cleared my throat. “How’s your cat? What’s their name?” I added when my dirty mind ran away with that question. Cat, not pussy. How was her cat.

“Uh.” She grabbed her coffee—an almond matcha. I’d made a note of that, along with every other detail I’d managed to pick up since we met ten minutes ago.

Her name was Carmen.

She drank matcha with almond milk, but hot, not iced.

She had a cat, which obviously meant she was a good person, because cats didn’t tolerate fools or dicks.

She was stylish and dressed in clothes expensive enough to satisfy even my elitist mother.

She’d paid for our drinks and not batted an eye at the three syrups I had in my drink, or the cream cheese frosting, or the whipped cream on top of the cream cheese frosting.

She was either used to dealing with extravagant, OTT requests like mine, or was the sort of woman who never judged.

I found that extremely appealing. I hated judgy assholes.

“Mango,” she said after a minute, ducking her head with a little smile curving into her soft cheeks. “I know it’s silly and predictable to give a cat a food name, but—”

“Absolutely not,” I cut in, offended at whoever had told her that.

Cats deserved the most pompous, stupid, ridiculous names that existed in the English language—and when we ran out of those, we should give them cute, ridiculous names in Italian and Spanish and Korean and Thai and Ukrainian and—you get the picture.

“My first cat was called Mocha. Then there was Latte, and Cheese. Now I just have Aegi.”

Carmen ducked her head with a smile. “You had a cat called Cheese?”

“Hey, I didn’t laugh at Mango.”

“Not laughing,” she said, lifting her head and striking me utterly dumb with a smile so bright and glittering it lit up her eyes from within. “But Cheese?”

“He was orange.” I explained, remembering his antics. He passed when I was a teenager, but he was completely crazy. “And a cheese thief, which is how he got his name.”

Carmen laughed, a soft breath of sound I was utterly infatuated with. I wondered what it would take to make her truly laugh, to make her throw her head back and let sound fill the room. Would she have a high, pealing laugh, a deep belly laugh, or a wicked cackle?

“You can’t blame a cat for upholding the cheese tax,” she said. “Even if they are lactose intolerant.”

She knew cats were lactose intolerant? I was going to marry this woman.

“Mango’s orange, too, hence the name,” she added, the light dimming in her eyes, like a cloud crossing the sun. “It feels wrong to sit here laughing while he’s at the vet.”

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, my heart aching. If anything happened to Aegi, I would burn the whole city down.

“He’s had gastro-intestinal problems for years. He’s getting old now, so he needs a specific diet and medication and—sorry, you don’t need to know all this.” She ducked her head again, her hair falling forward to hide her face.

“No.” My hand moved before I could stop it, and I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

So goddamn soft—her hair was like silk, and fuck I wanted to keep touching her.

I made myself pull my hand back, and sat on it for good measure, not convinced I could keep my hands to myself.

“I would do anything for my baby, and I’d be devastated if she was at the vet. You don’t have to apologise.”

I flexed my hand, the imprint of her burned through the scales of my skin into muscle and branded onto my bones where I’d never get the impression out.

What the hell was wrong with me? I met beautiful women all the time, and they never had this effect.

And sure, I had a habit of rushing head-first into relationships because I was addicted to the way they made me feel—until they ended.

I was a hopeless romantic as my friends constantly reminded me.

I lived for this kind of thing. Chance meetings, instant bonds, fate.

The last fated relationship didn’t end well, though. My mood soured, but I pushed away the thought.

“I should go,” Carmen said, her plush bottom lip caught between her teeth as she rushed to her feet, fastening her coat. “I need to make sure everything’s ready for Mango when he comes home and—oh god, I’m late for a meeting. My boss is going to kill me.”

I rose too, reaching for her before I stopped myself because no one just grabbed women they’d just met.

God, you’re serious, aren’t you? You’re fucking insane, Arden, no one falls in love this quick.

Mean laughter ricocheted through my head, but I blocked it out, focusing on Carmen as she fluttered around the table like a whirlwind of anxiety and panic.

I caught her hands before she could run away.

“Mango will be fine; cats are resilient, and stubborn. Try not to worry too much, Carmen.” I tried to say her name normally, but I couldn’t help the way my voice softened, my lips wrapping around the word like a caress.

She swallowed and looked up at me, those clear brown eyes full of so much vulnerability, so trusting, and I decided there and then that I would keep her forever.

Fuck the snide voice in my head. This was my future wife in front of me, and nothing would keep me from her.

And if I was going to marry her, why should I hold back?

I didn’t. I pulled her into a hug, my eyelids dropping at the feeling of her body pressed to mine, so warm, a powerful comfort I was rarely gifted—the sensation of another body against mine.

She was so soft but strong too, and that only piqued my interest further.

Did she do Pilates? Yoga? Boxing? Bouldering?

I needed to know everything. How hard could it be to find someone’s surname, really?

Carmen wasn’t a hugely common name. A little light stalking was in order.

Like the angel and devil on my shoulder, I could almost hear the voices of my best friends.

Are you out of your psycho mind? You can’t stalk a girl you just met, Arden. Not even online. That’s crossing so many fucking lines.

That was Stefan, the angel.

Calm down, what’s the harm? Scrolling someone’s Instagram and poring over their Facebook account never killed anyone. If you need help digging deeper, let me know, Arden, it’s been too long since I’ve had a pet project.

That was Cameo, the devil.

I usually listened to the devil.

Carmen sniffled against my chest, and my whole world narrowed to that sound as I held her tighter, ducking my face to kiss the perfectly straight parting of her hair.

“Let me give you my number,” I said, and quickly amended my tone when it came out pleading.

“Then you can call me if you need to talk.”

“Alright,” she agreed, thick with unshed tears. She drew away from me to pull her phone from her bag and held it out for me to add my number. I really ought to have put my name in as something sane. Like my name. Arden would have been completely acceptable, the right choice to make.

I didn’t make the right choice.

She didn’t look at the screen when I handed it back, and I pressed my lips together to hide a smile, fighting the itch in my fingers that urged my to brush her hair back from her face again, to run my fingertips over the plush, irresistible curve of her cheek, to draw her close so I could kiss her.

“I’ll call you,” she offered with a sad smile, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Sorry for crying on you, and—thank you for understanding.” This time her smile was as bright as the sun.

“It’s nice to have someone to talk to. I don’t really have friends.

” Her smile dropped. “Ugh, that was a sad fact to admit, I should—”

“No,” I rushed to stop her, catching her hand again, physically unable to hold back the desire to touch her.

My heart beat harder at the feel of her hand in mine, soft and calloused at once, delicate and strong.

Fuck, I wanted her too badly. “There’s something about you, Carmen.

I feel comfortable around you, like I could tell you my whole life’s story and you wouldn’t judge me.

I’m fucking honoured you can talk freely around me, too. ”

Her expression softened, her eyes growing wider, framed by those thick lashes. I wanted to count them. Was that insane? I knew that was insane, but I suddenly wanted to know how many lashes framed those beautiful eyes I couldn’t look away from.

“It feels like I was meant to meet you here,” she said, then ducked her head with a laugh. “Like god pushed us together, spilled coffee and all.”

“I feel the same.” I admitted breathlessly. She was the one —I knew it, felt it, had no doubt at all. This woman was the love of my life. The whole world seemed to shift on its axis, to move in slow motion to allow us more time together.

She wrapped her fingers around the strap of her bag, and I was instantly jealous of leather. “I’ll call you. I’d like to talk to you again.”

“I’m free anytime,” I said excitedly, then kicked myself. I didn’t want to scare her off. Not that she could run anywhere I wouldn’t follow. She was right when she said fate drew us together, and now I’d do anything in my power to have her.

It physically hurt me to watch her walk away, but I returned to the seat and got out my phone, ready to hunt her down and find out every last detail about my future wife.