Just at the moment when she thought she would explode, he stopped. In a serpentine flash he had twisted their bodies around. He rose over her, pushing himself between her legs. His piercing gray eyes met hers as he entered her in one smooth thrust. Lois cried out, clutching at his shoulders. His first stoke was hard and to her innermost wall. Her mouth fell open and he bent to kiss her, tracing the inside of her tender mouth with his questing tongue.
He rotated his hips, adjusting his angle as he withdrew from her depths. Her hips involuntarily rose to be re-entered and he rewarded her by plunging into her once again. This time, however, it was rhythmic and rapid, growing with intensity as their mutual need for release overcame any sense of time.
Three final plunges and her screams mingled with his as he covered her mouth again, kissing her with a strength and desperation that made him at once godlike and vulnerable.
When at last the spasms had passed, he withdrew and she lay in his arms, the golden liquid of passion flowing over them.
“Jezzi?”
“Yes?” she whispered.
“Remember always that this night, I loved you. Never forget that.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes at his sincere confession and she kissed him softly, nodding. A sense of dread threatened to overwhelm the haze of her fading pleasure.
“Now, I want you to go back to your room and get dressed. Throw everything you want into the suitcases in the closet and set them in the hall. Bertram will carry them down and Marco will take you home. Do not come back here. It isn’t safe.”
“But, what about you?”
“Forget me. I want you safe. Promise me?”
She didn’t answer, tears streaming openly down her cheeks now as she shook her head, not wanting this to happen.
He took her face between his hands and when he spoke his voice was deadly serious. “Promise me you won’t come back.”
“I promise,” she finally surrendered.
“Hurry now.”
Dirk pushed her from the bed and she gathered up her clothes and, with a single parting look, tearfully went back to her room. She found slacks and a sweater and threw them on hurriedly. The suitcases were in the closet where he’d promised. She went back to the door to ask him when she would see him again, but it was locked. She went back to the closet, staring at all of the fine things, and realized she didn’t want any of them. Not after what had happened. What she feared would happen once she’d gone.
There was a tap on her door and Bertram walked in without an invitation.
“Hurry, Miss, you have to pack,”
She shook her head. “I don’t want anything.”
He raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He led her downstairs to the front door, where Marco was waiting for them. Flanking Lois, one on either side, they took her to the limo and ushered her inside. Marco slid behind the wheel and Lois looked up to see Dirk, silhouetted in the upper story window, watching her leave. The tears began in a huge shudder as they passed through the iron gates and sped toward the city.
***
Lois slowly walked in to Palmer’s office two mornings later. She’d gotten a call from his assistant that he wanted to see her. She felt deflated and sad; she missed the silver-eyed Italian god, even though she’d only known him such a short time.
Palmer gave her a sympathetic look as she came in, handing her coffee and telling her to sit on the sofa. That’s when he handed her the newspaper.
MOBSTER SHOT TO DEATH AT OCEANSIDE ESTATE, the headline read. There was a picture of Dirk, handsome and tall, his gray eyes piercing even on the page. She couldn’t bear to open the paper to the back pages for more photos. She could only stare at the headline and at his photo.
He had saved her. She knew it deep within her heart, even if she didn’t know exactly why it had all happened. He could have forced her to take part in whatever his associates had expected, and she would have been just one more innocent woman caught in their net of power. Instead, he had refused, a refusal that had apparently cost him his life. She sat and stared at the picture, emotions swirling inside her. She wasn’t sure what to feel. It wasn’t as if she’d been in love with him or him in love with her. But there had been something in the night that they’d shared.
And he had sacrificed himself to protect her. That meant something; she just wasn’t sure what. She threw the newspaper aside and stood up to go.
“Here’s your bonus,” Palmer said, holding out a thick envelope.
“Fuck you!” she responded, walking out of his office and onto the heat of the city street. She walked for a while before she realized where she was headed. To Rodeo Drive, where they’d first met.
She took off her shoes, feeling the pavement beneath her bare feet. And it wasn’t until she reached the exact spot where he had touched her for the first time, lifting her from where she’d fallen, that she started to cry.
Fake Fiancée - Book 4
Palmer was frowning as Lois walked into his eighth-floor Wilshire Boulevard office. In fact, she was fairly certain that if the look on his face could be translated to temperature, his computer would now be a molten mess upon his desk.
“Boy, that doesn’t look too promising,” she commented, pulling out her compact to touch up her lipstick and hair. “What’s up?”
“Hi, Lois. Damn, but you’re looking good today. I think I pay you altogether too much.” Lois was glad to hear that at least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor.
“I’ll say thank you, although I’m not sure which part of your statement I’m thanking you for. What has your face on fire?”
“Oh, it’s that damn Riley woman again. She’s got a bug up her ass and I wish I could swat it, and I don’t mean that in a nice way.” Palmer punched the mouse, effectively closing the browser window.
“So, what’s she up to now? I thought she was done chasing Jet.”
“She’ll never stop chasing him until he’s a nobody. She’s blaming him for the devastation of her career, which just shows you how intelligent she’s not. She’s even mentioned you here, by the way.” He sat down, carefully aligning the crease in his suit pants.
“Oh, really? As if I could care what she has to think of me.” Lois had to admit to herself she was curious, but she wasn’t going to let Palmer see that. Her brother had given her a rather profitable career by hiring her into his talent agency. Her first assignment had been as arm candy for Jet Thompson, one of the most influential and good-looking actors in film. The public erroneously thought he was gay, and Lois—or “Jezzi” as all her clients knew her—had been hired to dissuade the public’s opinion.
Lois had quickly discovered firsthand that the rumors about Jet were nonsense, but Kathy Riley, a journalist with a grudge, hadn’t let it go. She’d crossed the line by threatening both Palmer and Lois, and they had taken her down. Lois had thought that Kathy Riley was a problem they’d solved months ago.
“Well, never mind that now. I have a new client for you. Are your Gucci heels getting worn flat?” he teased her.
“A girl can always use a new pair, even if they make me look like a stork on stilts. I think I’m going to ask for gold from now on. It’s easier to wear in summer and a whole lot more liquid. So, who’s the new client?”
“Get ready for this one. You might say he’s in the family.”
Lois shook her head, holding her hands out in front of herself as protection.
Palmer grimaced. “No, not that family. Dirk was the last of the mob that’s coming through this door. You’re lucky to have survived that.” He turned to his computer again to bring up the biographical data of their newest client.
In the meantime, Lois looked downward. Her last client, Dirk Zinelli, had been a member of the Italian mob. When his business associates had wanted to bring her into their more unsavory activities, Dirk had saved her, an action that cost him his life. Even though she hadn’t known him very well, they’d had a powerful connection, and she was still working on moving past his death.
<
br /> She took a deep breath and looked back up at Palmer. “Okay, so what do you mean that he’s in the family?” Lois didn’t have any family. At least, no one other than Palmer and his brother, and they were only partially related. Her mother had been the secretary to Palmer’s father, a powerful married man, and they’d had an affair. Lois had been the product of that union and she had been kept a secret. The rest was history. It had only been recently that she’d discovered she had brothers at all.
“Well, it would appear that Jet has a cousin. His name is Elliot Thompson; his father and Jet’s are brothers.” He punched the down arrow in his keyboard as he quickly scanned through the biographical information. “Oh, hello there, it would seem that this Mr. Thompson has a wife,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice.
“Her name is Priscilla and she happens to come from a rather wealthy family that is notorious for ugly faces. Apparently Mr. Elliot Thompson prefers money over beauty; but again who am I to judge. I got a call from him this morning and he specifically asked for you.”
“What does he want?” Lois couldn’t help but wonder if he was at all like Jet. She often wished the movie star would request her services again.
“He says he needs a female companion for social engagements. His wife apparently has some sort of illness that keeps her homebound. He says she totally endorses this arrangement, understanding that in his business circle, a man who is alone is perceived as weak. As a matter of fact, he tells me that Jet gave him our number and recommended you, in particular.”
“Really?” Lois tried not to let on that she was crushed by this revelation. She’d felt that she and Jet had had something sort of special between them. She understood he was all about the glitz and glamor of his career at this point, but she’d always felt like someday their stars might cross again.
To hear that he’d nominated her to accompany his cousin meant that not only would she not be going out with him again—as no one would believe the same woman was legitimately dating both of them—but also that if he would recommend her to anyone at all, he obviously didn’t feel the same way about her as she did him. She felt like a homeless puppy that was getting passed around.
“So, what is this going to involve?” Lois sat up straight, trying to snap back into her business mind.
“The usual, it seems. He has an apartment here in the city, a nice place, where he entertains his business associates. He’d like you to play hostess when they meet there, accompany him to film openings, business dinners, you get the gist.” Palmer looked to her for reaction, but her eyes were lowered to the floor.
“How long?” Her voice held a tinge of boredom.
“I’m guessing this could be a fairly long-term job. If he is as career-oriented as it sounds, it might even be a permanent gig. Does it interest you?”
“You say that Jet recommended me?” She was hoping against hope that she’d heard it wrong.
“So he says,” he answered.
“Sure, why not? I don’t have anything better to do,” she said nonchalantly. She crossed her legs at the knee and brushed off invisible flecks of hurt. “When and where do I meet him?”
“Tomorrow morning, ten o’clock, right here. Bring a suitcase and a variety of business attire as well as some formal attire for the evenings. Anything you don’t have, he’ll buy for you.”
“Okay, boss,” she spouted back at him. She got up a bit slowly, her body language anything but excited at the prospect. She didn’t even say a word of parting as she slipped out the door.
***
Palmer watched her go with a frown creasing his forehead. Since discovering he even had a stepsister, Palmer had been unable to not worry about her. He’d given her this job and she’d taken to it like a fish to water, working to succeed with a tenacity that he admired and appreciated.
But no matter how she acted, she was still young, and he knew she didn’t have anyone she really opened up to. He’d known there was something off about her for a while now, ever since her last client had been murdered in cold blood. That was obviously understandable. What he hadn’t known was that she still carried a torch for Jet.
It made sense. Jet was an extremely charming guy. He was about her age, incredibly famous, and very good-looking. Palmer wondered if this was somehow his fault, for assigning her to Jet in the first place. It had just seemed like a natural fit.
He sighed, turning back to his computer, and made a mental note to try and watch her closer. He knew that she could take care of herself, she’d been doing it for a long time. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t worry. He always worried.
***
Lois was in the lobby at five minutes before ten the next morning, a set of packed luggage on a cart to one side. Palmer’s assistant came around from behind her desk and commented, “Looks like you’re settling in.”
“Hah! Actually, that’s the last thing I’ll probably ever do. Palmer keeps me on the road.”
Palmer appeared. “Jezzi, will you follow me?”
Lois nodded and when they entered the office, she nearly went to her knees. Jet was standing there.
“Ms. Jezzi Turner, may I present Mr. Elliot Thompson?”
The man came forward, a smile on his face, holding out his hand. She was frozen, her eyes searching his appearance for some indication that it was not Jet. “I’m guessing you’re taken by the family resemblance?” he asked her, smiling. “I hear it all the time and let’s just say, sometimes the press tags along and are always disappointed.”
“It’s uncanny,” Lois remarked, taking his hand. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.
“She’s perfect, Palmer,” he turned and grinned at him. “Even better than Jet described.”
Lois blushed, despite the ache that went through her heart.
“Are you ready, my dear?” he asked her and she nodded.
“My luggage is in the lobby.”
“I’ll have my driver bring it down,” he said, his voice the consummate businessman.
With an over-her-shoulder look at Palmer, who only shrugged, she followed Elliot into the elevator. A white limo awaited them downstairs and while the driver went up to retrieve her luggage, Elliot took her hand in his. “I’m pleasantly surprised, I must say. This will be a greater pleasure than I had expected.”
“I understand your wife is ill,” Lois said boldly, reminding him that their affiliation was to be business-only.
“Yes, she is, indeed. Priscilla suffered complications after the birth of our son. He did not survive and she was left paralyzed from the waist down. We were devastated, naturally.” He hesitated, taking a breath before adding, in an altogether way too suggestive voice, “My wife is a very accommodating woman.” Lois held her tongue but gently slipped her hand out of his, feeling a sour taste in her mouth.
Luggage loaded, they pulled away from the curb and soon arrived at a very modern building in a popular part of town. Many celebrities kept private, in-town residences here to use when they were rehearsing locally and didn’t want extensive travel time each day. Elliot led her to the penthouse.
Naturally, she said in a mocking voice to herself. He doesn’t seem to be suffering from their loss nearly as much as his wife.
The apartment occupied the entire floor of the building. It featured floor-to-ceiling windows with automated blinds, giving the apartment total privacy, particularly at night. The suites occupied one end of the hallway. There were a total of three; one of which belonged to Elliot, one was indicated for guests and the third was to belong to Lois.
There was also a housekeeper. Mrs. Myrtle Partnip—as she introduced herself—was a warm-faced, soft woman who made it clear from the first that she knew how to mind her own business and slept off premises each evening. “I’ll be here at five a.m., bright and early. If you’d like something special, just leave me a note on the refrigerator and I’ll see that you have it,” she offered. Lois liked the kindly woman and for the first time since moving out of their shitty apartm
ent in NYC, she missed her mother’s presence. Even though Beverly had been suffocating, she had been Lois’ mother and if for no other reason, left Lois with an empty place in her heart.
Lois’ suite included an expansive bedroom, sitting area, and spa-quality bath. The marble floor gleamed and the fixtures of the tub were gold and very European in design. There was a sauna, just big enough for two people and a shower with multiple sprays that could be temperature-controlled.
Her bed was French country in design, layered with ruffled pillows and a matching pair of wingback chairs sat next to a window, flanking an ornately-carved side table. There was a beautifully carved desk that matched the headboard. An almost identical piece served as a vanity. Her luggage had already been placed in the walk-in closet and Mrs. Partnip was busily putting things on hangers. She was chatting away in a merry voice and Lois went to the pair of chairs and chose one that afforded a view of the courtyard below. Green space was a rarity in this town.
“There now,” Mrs. Partnip clucked as she emerged from the closet, “everything is sorted by time of day and your unmentionables are sorted by color. I’ll be off to the kitchen now. If there’s anything you need, just press star one on the phone and I’ll pick up. Nice to meet you, dearie. I hope you’re happy here.” She gave Lois a parting smile and left, her rounded bottom swishing out the door in her patterned housedress. The door eased closed and Lois felt suddenly lonely—as though the cheer had left the room.
The phone next to the bed began to gently ring. One button repeatedly lit and she finally picked it up.
“Hello, there. Wasn’t sure you’d catch on.” Elliot’s voice was cheerful. “The flashing button on number three means someone is calling you and please dial nine before you call out.”
“I have a cell for my calls, but thank you,” Lois told him. “Was there something you wanted?”
“No… not yet. Just wanted to welcome you to our, well, your new home. I’ll see you at dinner at eight o’clock. If you get hungry before, just dial Mrs. Partnip and she’ll bring you whatever you like.”
Single And Rich Page 8
