Love & Learn Read online

  Love & Learn

  Catherine Alba

  Contents

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Part II

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Part III

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Part I

  1

  Henry

  He shouldn’t have come.

  As soon as Henry stepped inside the private room at the back of the club, he regretted having promised Peter he’d be here. Sure, the cigar club in upscale Lenox Hill on Manhattan’s Upper East Side was his kind of place. Elegant. Classy. Sophisticated. The dark-paneled walls and heavy leather furniture were exactly to his taste. And Peter was the closest thing he had to a friend. They had been to boarding school together, back in England, many, many years ago. They weren’t exactly close but would get together for the occasional drink or gym session. He was a nice enough bloke.

  But this? The thudding music. The thick cloud of cigar smoke that floated just above his head. The rowdy men, already drunk, even though the party had started only about half an hour ago. And the stripper that could be glimpsed gyrating in the corner at the back, behind the staggering slash dancing men. It was cringeworthy.

  Henry cringed.

  He was not the kind of man that frequented strip clubs. He knew that Peter enjoyed them and had faked obligations and out-of-town commitments to get out of previous birthday celebrations when they had taken place in such establishments. He had believed—erroneously—that a birthday party at a cigar club would be more … dignified.

  He had been wrong.

  “Henry, you old devil!”

  Peter had spotted him and came toward him with a bottle in one hand, and a sequined bra wrapped around his neck like a scarf.

  “Peter.” He forced a smile. “Happy birthday.”

  Peter gave him a bear hug, and Henry cringed again. It felt like an eternity before Peter finally let go, but even then, he stayed right beside Henry, with one arm around the shoulders of his childhood friend.

  “You’ve got to see the stripper,” he stage-whispered in Henry’s ear. “What a birthday present, eh? All the lads chipped in.” He raised his glass to the ceiling. “What a bunch of lads, huh, boys?” he hollered, and the rest of the men turned toward him, hollering back, raising their glasses, and in one case a whole champagne bottle, in reply.

  “That’s alright,” Henry mumbled and tried to extricate himself from Peters semi-embrace.

  “Come and meet her!” said Peter enthusiastically and pulled Henry with him toward the back of the room.

  Henry spotted a sideboard covered in bottles and a couple of ice buckets, glasses, and a party platter. “Let me just grab a drink first,” he said and ducked out from under his friend’s arm.

  “Of course,” Peter said, patting him on the back. “Forgive me. What a lousy host I am! I just got so carried away.” He leaned closer. Henry could feel his warm, alcoholic breath on his face and cringed again. “I think I’m in love,” Peter said. Then he leaned back and held out his hands in front of his chest. “She’s got the most amazing tits on her!” he exclaimed loudly enough that everyone in the room must have surely heard what he said, even though the music kept booming from hidden speakers in every corner.

  “Well,” said Henry as he poured himself a modest amount of bourbon. “It certainly sounds like true love.”

  “Oh, it is!” Peter said profusely. “You must come and see her. You’ve already missed the best bit, I’m afraid.”

  “Er … that’s alright,” Henry mumbled, taking a much-needed sip of his drink.

  But Peter wouldn’t take no for an answer and grabbed him by the arm—luckily not the arm he was holding his drink with— and pulled him toward the action at the back of the room.

  “I’m back, my love,” he hollered in a sing-song voice to the stripper who stood with her back toward him, moving her naked hips from side to side with a slow, undulating movement.

  Henry was reminded of a cobra, transfixed by a snake charmer’s flute. Except, it was him that was being hypnotized. He shook his head quickly and took another sip of his bourbon, pulling his eyes away from the naked woman. She really was completely naked. Not even a sequined thong to go with the bra that Peter was wearing around his neck. She slowly started to turn toward him, and Henry averted his eyes. The man standing next to him had something that sparkled on his head. Ah, thought Henry. The missing thong. Mystery solved.

  He tried to take in his surroundings. The elegant room with its dark-paneled walls. The artwork. The vintage sconces that didn’t seem to give off any light. It was a remarkable room.

  But his eyes were inevitably drawn back to the dancing woman just a few feet away from him. Peter had been right. She was extraordinarily endowed in the chest area. The contrast to her slim waist was spectacular. Somewhere in the far distance, he could hear his old friend give of an unarticulated groan of lust and desire. Somewhere deep within himself, a similar groan started to vibrate.

  Henry turned his back to the stripper and went to get himself another drink.

  Once his glass had been topped up, he found an armchair angled away from the scene at the back of the room and slumped there, gripping his tumbler in his trembling hand. It had been a rough month. He was bone tired. And he had an early start tomorrow.

  It had been a mistake to come. He was just going to finish this drink, and then he’d leave.

  2

  Lizzie

  It was a small group of men. Older than most of the gigs she was hired for. Lizzie had thought that this would mean a quiet night. Or a quieter night than usual, at least. But they were a rowdy bunch. Especially the birthday boy. She had to struggle to stay out of reach of those hands. The man was an octopus. It was embarrassing.

  She had done the striptease, and then danced for another half-hour or so. Then she grabbed her phone that she’d put on one of the antique bookshelves at the back and silenced the music. The room went very quiet for a split second. Then a chorus of disappointed groans rose from her audience.

  “Sorry, guys,” she said with an apologetic smile and grabbed a green silk kimono
from her bag on the floor. She wrapped it around her and tied the belt tight before she pulled her thong off the head of one of the men. When she tried to retrieve her bra from around the neck of the birthday boy, he grabbed her wrist. Hard.

  Immediately, Lizzie tensed up. She hated this part of the job. Not that she exactly loved the rest of it. But it had its perks. The money, for one. And the hours.

  And the scrawny kid she had been—and still felt like most of the time—quite liked the way those men looked at her. The adoring looks. The admiring looks. The worshiping ones.

  Not the possessive ones, like the one the birthday boy was giving her right now.

  “You’re not leaving already, are you?” he said, pulling her toward him. “The party’s just getting started.”

  She somehow managed to angle her hip so that the bulge in his pants pressed against her hip instead of where he had intended to push it. With a quick tug, she yanked her bra toward her, and she could see him flinching when the sequins probably cut the back of his neck.

  Well, serves him right.

  Another determined yank and her arm was free of his grip. One of his buddies grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away.

  “Lemme buy you a drink,” he slurred and steered the birthday boy toward the bar that was set up over by the door.

  The men pulled away, and Lizzie gathered her things. There was a men’s room out in the main area of the club but no ladies’, so she had no choice but to get dressed right there, where she had performed her striptease. She didn’t like that. She preferred slipping away to another room and getting completely dressed before returning and facing the men who had just watched her perform. There was a strange vulnerability in being naked, getting dressed—the exact opposite of the power she experienced when she took her clothes off.

  Well, that one was for the shrinks to figure out. That’s why they made the big bucks.

  With a shimmy, she pulled her jeans up over her hips and buttoned them. She had a T-shirt in her bag, but a glance over her shoulder revealed that several of the men were still watching her, so she quickly removed the belt from the short kimono and wrapped it around her, tucking it into the jeans as a makeshift blouse. The thin, silky fabric didn’t feel as protective as her old washed-out T-shirt, but it would have to do. Her vintage, sun-bleached denim jacket would complete the armor.

  She slipped her phone into her pocket and slung the bag over one shoulder. There was no back door, either. She would have to walk past all those men.

  Pulling herself up to her full height of 5’2 and raising her chin to try and project confidence, Lizzie walked toward the door. Some of the men were busy getting new drinks, and some had reclined in the plush leather armchairs, lighting cigars that gave off a strangely appealing stench. Only a couple of them were looking at her as she moved through the room. She glanced around for the birthday boy, wanting to give him a wide berth, but no, there he was. Right by the door, talking to one of his friends.

  Lizzie slowed her steps. There was no way she’d be able to get past the men, without brushing against them, and she did not want to get that close to the birthday boy. He was not a nice man! Her wrist still ached from his grip.

  It seemed that this other man also wanted to leave, but the birthday boy didn’t want him to go. Lizzie hung back, studying the party platter on the sideboard. It didn’t look as if anyone had as much as looked at it; everything was still perfectly arranged in a beautiful pattern. Lizzie’s stomach growled.

  “But you only just got here!” the birthday boy protested, blocking the door to stop his friend from leaving.

  “I know,” the friend said. Lizzie glanced at him, slipping a rolled-up piece of ham into her mouth. Tall, dark, and handsome. A classic combination. “And I’m sorry. But I’ve got an early start. The book tour I told you about? The car is coming to pick me up for the airport at a quarter past seven.” He shrugged, reaching out both arms in a helpless gesture.

  Lizzie helped herself to a piece of cheese. If no one else wanted this food, she could certainly use it. Sure, she was getting paid handsomely by the hour for this gig, but it had only been the one hour, and this was her only gig this week. She was behind on rent, and until she had paid that, there was no way she could afford groceries. She had eaten everything in her pantry by now, even the tins at the back that had no labels, and that she couldn’t remember buying. One of them had contained some strange kind of stew. The other had turned out to be pears, in a sugary syrup. She had devoured them both, on separate occasions. Hunger truly was the best seasoning, because even just remembering the strange stew made her mouth water.

  But it wasn’t as delicious as some of these meats and cheeses. She helped herself to a few more slices.

  Someone yelled at the birthday boy to come and join them, and he sighed and patted his friend on the shoulder. “Alright. Best of luck with the book signings. Hope you get lots of groupies at all your appearances.”

  The man gave off a half-hearted laugh. “Sure. You know exactly what the book business is like, I hear,” he said, shifting sideways to move out the door and let his friend go back into the room.

  Lizzie grabbed a few more morsels from the platter and stepped out the door right behind the man, out of sight for the grabby birthday boy. Phew! Talk about a lucky escape.

  Outside of the private room, the main area of the cigar club was just as dark. Intimate, she guessed the marketing term was. But you almost needed a movie theater usher with a flashlight to lead the way to the door.

  Since no usher seemed to be around, she stuck to the broad shoulders ahead of her. He seemed to know the way. She put another piece of ham in her mouth and pulled her phone out of her pocket to order an Uber.

  Stepping through the front door of the club, she noticed three things right away. One: it was raining. Not much, but still. Good luck getting an Uber then. Two: the street was empty and dark. Not a nice place to walk alone, as a young woman. And three: she had no idea where she was. She hadn’t been paying attention in the Uber on her way here, and this was not a part of town where she usually hung out. She would have to check Maps to see if there was a subway station somewhere nearby.

  What she didn’t notice: That the man in front of her had stopped.

  Lizzie walked straight into his broad and surprisingly muscular back.

  It was like walking into a wall.

  3

  Henry

  He had stopped at the top of the stairs outside the entrance, looking both ways to find his bearings. This was not a part of town where he usually hung out, but he had a pretty good idea of which way he needed to go to find a cab.

  Something hit him in the small of the back, and he wobbled but quickly regained his balance.

  “Ouch!” said a voice somewhere behind him.

  Henry turned around.

  A woman was standing right behind him, with one hand in front of her face.

  “You broke my nose!” she said, grimacing. She lowered her hand and scrunched up her nose. It didn’t look broken to him. It looked cute, actually.

  Then he recognized her. Unbelievable that it took him so long to put two and two together. She had been the only woman in that club. But she did look completely different with her clothes on. Inside that dark, smoky room, she had looked like an exotic creature from another realm. Out here on the street, she looked human. Sensationally pretty, but still recognizably a regular all-American girl. Short, petite, with lots of silky, light-brown hair that tumbled down over her shoulders. The cute little un-broken nose was surrounded by large, dark-lashed green eyes, smooth, flawless cheeks, and soft, pink lips. She looked disturbingly young, considering what she’d just been doing in there, but her chest proclaimed her to be a 100% full-grown woman.

  Even though she was fully dressed now, in a lot of washed-out denim, he felt a need to avert his eyes.

  “Excuse me,” he said softly. “But it was you who bumped into me.”

  She looked down and gasped. �
�Oh, no!” she whimpered.

  He followed her gaze. On the stone steps between them lay a cellphone in a hot pink case, and some bits of ham and cheese. The young woman hunched down, brushing the food morsels off the phone before picking it up gingerly and turning it over. He could feel her groan in the pit of his stomach and knew what had happened even without seeing the cracked screen.

  She slowly stood up and pushed the button. The screen lit up, behind the spiderweb of thin lines that crisscrossed it. Another groan.

  “Too bad,” he mumbled. “But you can get a new one in the morning. And,” he added, trying for some reason that he couldn’t quite understand to sound cheerful, ”if the screen lights up, it probably still works enough for you to do a backup and all that.” She lifted her eyes and stared at him with disbelief in her wide eyes. Why disbelief? He kept rambling. “I know that I always intend to backup all my important stuff, but if I didn’t have a scheduled automatic backup to the cloud, it would never get done.”