by Rayne, Piper
“Speech time,” the DJ comes over the microphone and the lights dim.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to Brooklyn and stand.
“Do you want—”
“No. I’ll be right back,” I assure her even though there’s a good chance the hotel might have a hole to patch in the drywall later tonight.
I shake a few more hands of family and friends on the way out the door, but I don’t release a breath until I’m finally in the hallway and heading to the bathroom.
“Wyatt!”
I turn to find Veronica walking toward me.
“Not now.” I put my hand in the air and continue heading to the bathroom.
I push open the door and stare at myself in the mirror. What the hell am I doing with my life? Why do I still let him control me and demean me? Why do I let him get to me?
The answer is the same as always. He holds my future in his hands because I was too weak to start on my own path out of graduate school. I fucked up as a rich punk in my earlier years. Now my only chance of living the life I dream is to abide by my dad’s rules and put up with his shit.
“This is familiar,” Veronica coos. “Of course, usually your hands would be up my dress already.” She laughs, leaning against the wall.
What the hell is she doing in here?
“I’m not in the mood for your antics.” I wash my hands like I wasn’t moments away from having a breakdown.
“Antics? You never complained before.”
“I’m here with someone.” I dry my hands off, but she pushes off the wall and stalks toward me.
“Goldilocks? You know she can’t give you what you want. She doesn’t seem like a back scratcher or a fuck me in the men’s room type of girl.” Her finger runs down my chest.
I grab both her hands and place them to her side.
“Maybe that’s what I like about her.”
“I’m curious. Does she know your past? That you’re not some saint?”
I shake my head. “Get off it. What I have with Brooklyn is none of your business. And you act like I have some deep dark secret. So what if I fucked around?”
She laughs, unleashing her hands from my grip. “Please. You’ve practically fucked every girl on the Upper East Side and half of Tribeca. We both know this relationship of yours will last about five minutes. We’re meant to be together. Me and you. Destined since childhood.”
“You seem to think we’re in some demented teen movie. You know what we were together and who I was with you isn’t who I am with her.”
“I never heard complaints,” she purrs.
She has a point. Veronica was a girl to call at the end of the night if I hadn’t met someone else. She was on the same page though.
I head to the door, but she cuts me off. “Come on, Wy. Remember all the fun times?”
I grip her hand and sidestep her. “Those days are over.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll welcome you back after she finds out you’re no prince.”
I open the door and step out, rage burning inside of me.
“Wyatt!”
I turn toward my dad’s voice, thankful it’s not Brooklyn because Veronica picks that moment to walk out of the men’s bathroom.
My dad’s vision flickers to her. “Veronica,” he greets her.
“Good evening, Mr. Whitmore. You make such a handsome father of the bride.” She bows her head, smirking over at me.
“You always say the kindest things. If you’ll excuse us, I need a word with my son.”
“Of course, Mr. Whitmore.” She steps away, sauntering down the hallway, glancing back at me over her shoulder.
I roll my eyes and turn my attention to my father.
“You sneak away to have a fling with Veronica in the men’s room?” My dad’s judgmental tone says that even if I dispute it, he’ll think I’m lying. Not like it would be his first time catching me doing something I shouldn’t.
“No. I’m not you.”
He tilts his head, appraising me, trying to figure out what I know. He has no idea what I know.
“Listen, I get that you want to hit me where it hurts and bringing a maid to your sister’s wedding is a great way to get back at me for whatever reason it is that you hate me for this month, but you’re playing around with that poor girl’s emotions.”
I stuff my hands in my pocket. “Why do you care?”
He nods toward the balcony, walking before asking me to join him.
I follow like the obedient son I’m usually not.
“I don’t. But I can’t have the Whitmore name tarnished when we’re just building a reputation in Alaska. I don't know much, but her family is a big deal around that area. You using her to get back at me is only going to make those people hate us more than they already do.”
“Maybe I like her.”
He laughs into the night sky. “Wyatt, you’re the most selfish person I know.”
“Are you including yourself in that assessment?”
“Yes, and that’s the sad part.”
“You don’t know me.”
I’m remaining calm, but my dad’s flared nostrils say he could explode at any moment. “I know you use people to get what you want. That you’re stringing this girl along promising her some future of having millions and never wanting for anything.”
“I think you’re confusing me with you.”
“Let’s get something clear, you are to break it off with this girl by tonight. Send her on a plane home and maybe then we’ll discuss the hotels Sunday after your sister leaves on her honeymoon.”
“Sorry.” I pat him on the shoulder because I know he hates it. “Not going to happen. I like her, Dad. Deal with it.” I turn to leave.
“You like her enough to throw our deal off the table?” He turns around.
Right before the doors, I turn back to face him. “You and I both know you might need me a little bit, too, and you’re not going to throw that away just because I’m dating a maid.”
It’s then that my jaw drops to the floor because out from the other side of the balcony steps my mom with Brooklyn. Their faces make it clear that they overheard me.
Fuck my dad, did he set me up?
Thirty-Four
Brooklyn
“Excuse me,” I say, trying nicely to shrug off Wyatt’s mom’s hand.
I step forward but realize Wyatt’s there, so I circle back around to the doors Eva and I came through.
“Brooklyn.” Wyatt’s voice is closer than it was moments ago.
“Oh dear,” Eva says right before I spring open the door and step back into the rehearsal dinner.
Haylee and Bradley are with a group of friends at the table closest to me.
I smile, tip my head down and try to manage a quiet exit.
“Brooklyn!” Wyatt’s voice booms through the room.
Obviously, he’d rather make a spectacle of himself.
“Wyatt chasing a girl. That’s a new one,” some guy says from the circle of friends with Haylee and Bradley.
“Fuck off, Ian.”
Pushing the tears back, I swallow the saliva coating my throat.
“Excuse you,” Veronica says as I accidentally shoulder knock her trying to escape the room. “Now that she’s gone—”
“Go to hell, Veronica,” Wyatt says right before his shoes click along the marble hallway. Hearing him gain on me, I speed up my footsteps to the elevator hoping he doesn’t catch me. I pass the stairway thinking that might be a better option.
Realizing I have nowhere to escape, I turn around and Wyatt stops, his torso shooting forward from the sudden movement. He grabs my arms to steady himself.
“Stop following me. Enjoy your night. I’m leaving.”
“Not without me you’re not.” He reaches past me and presses the button to the elevator.
“Leave me alone,” I bite out. A few guests from another event room trickle out and head toward the elevators.
I smile politely at them.
; “You don’t understand. I don’t think of you like that.”
“Then why would you say it?” We both talk while staring straight ahead at the elevator doors. I watch the numbers above, waiting for my escape to arrive.
“It’s my dad, he brings out the worst in me.” He runs his hand down his beard.
The two older ladies who are now standing behind us discuss the food from the event they attended. Apparently, the beef was subpar and the lettuce in the salad was wilted.
“Don’t go blaming everything on your dad. You’ve been different since we got here.”
“I know,” he says his voice quiet.
“Then let me leave. Let me go, Wyatt,” I plead.
The doors open and I step in before everyone else can get off. Impolite and childish but Wyatt isn’t going to just say ‘sure, go back to my condo and I’ll give you time to think.’ He doesn’t work like that. At least from what I’ve seen.
“Excuse me,” he says to the people trying to get in behind us. “I don't mean to be rude, but I have to talk to my date, and we need some privacy.”
“Wyatt!” I say.
“Lover’s quarrel.” The one lady looks at the other. “Of course. But just so you know if you stop the elevator for a little kissy kissy, you can’t hold it too long before they call the fire department. I learned that the hard way.” She laughs and her friend knocks elbows with her.
“Noted. Thanks.” He steps back in and presses the door close button.
I lean into the corner and cross my arms, looking anywhere but at him.
“We have about thirty seconds to get one thing straight.” He steps in front of me. “What I said was an asshole remark and I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”
“Then why did you say it?” Tears prick the corners of my eyes.
“I told you, my dad is a bastard who likes to pull people’s strings. Tonight, I played the part of puppet.”
“It shouldn’t matter anyway because it’s not like we’re anything but friends.”
“Brooklyn…” He runs his hand down his beard.
“What?” I narrow my gaze.
“You know as well as I do that’s not true.” He steps closer, his hands resting on my cheeks, his lips meeting mine.
Rather than fighting him off I find my hands loosening and dropping to my sides while stars fill my vision.
Our first kiss isn’t anything like I imagined it would be. When I thought of us actually kissing, I thought he’d be gentle and soft and tentative. I thought hesitant lips would linger over mine unsure if he should cross the line because I’m the girl who was left at the altar and I need to be dealt with wearing velvet gloves. But Wyatt’s kiss is explosive and dominant and controlling. I don’t have a ton of experience, but this kiss is by far the best I’ve ever had. His low groan and the way his hands grip just a tiny bit firmer as I welcome his tongue into my mouth has heat pooling between my thighs.
My hands move to his forearms and all the corded muscle that lays under his suit jacket flexes. I’m transported to another world. A world where this man is mine.
The bell rings indicating we’re on the main floor, but Wyatt doesn’t dislodge his body from mine as the doors open. He closes the kiss as though it pains him to do it. “Come home with me?”
“Well, my stuff is there, so…” I raise my eyebrows, and he chuckles.
“Way to ruin the mood,” he says, taking my hand and escorting me out of the elevator. “Sorry for the delay,” he tells the people who witnessed us making out.
Before I grasp what happened, he hands the valet his ticket and wraps his arms around my waist pulling me into him. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
I stare into his honest eyes. He has some questions to answer and maybe I’m foolish for putting them on the back burner to spend tonight with him. But I want one night where I finally take something for myself.
“Thank you for your apology.”
“I can show you how sorry I am back at my place.” He winks and I laugh falling into his chest and sliding my hands around his waist.
I inhale his cologne and bask in the feeling of my cheek against his chest. In a city far away from home, with a man I wish could be my forever, I know I need to commit this to memory because it’s destined to be temporary.
Thirty-Five
Brooklyn
When we enter Wyatt’s condo, he tosses his keys on the table by the door.
“Drink?” he asks, already heading into the kitchen, shrugging out of his suit jacket on the way.
He disposes it on the back of a chair and grabs a wine glass and a tumbler.
I sit on the couch, unsure how this whole thing works. I haven’t been with a man other than Jeff in over five years. I doubt Wyatt is expecting me to change into my pajamas and get under the covers before we have sex. Jeff loved the bed and whined about his back when I tried to initiate something on the kitchen table once.
I wish I could call one of my sisters. Or my brothers. I should’ve asked Rome for pointers the other night.
Yeah right? Like Rome would have been forthcoming.
Get out of your head, Brooklyn.
Wyatt comes over, he’s already unbuttoned and rolled up his shirt sleeves.
“Wine?” He hands me a glass and I take it.
The liquid sloshes from side to side a bit because I can’t control my anxiety about what’s about to happen.
“Thanks.” I sip it before it ends up spilled all over my dress.
“Do you want to stay in here or go outside?” he asks. “It’s not too cold out.”
Is he expecting me to have sex outside? I mean I’m game when I’m snuggled up in a tent or a sleeping bag, but on his balcony with witnesses in every direction? Is that the kind of woman he wants? Because I’m not her. I bet Veronica is though.
That thought has me wrinkling my forehead.
“Hey.” His hand falls to my face and his thumb rubs my cheek. “There’s no pressure.”
No pressure to have outside spectator sex?
He offers his hand and I accept it, rising to my feet. His free arm slides behind my back and he seems so casual, so at ease with what’s happening. “You look like you’re about to throw up.” He buries his head in the crook of my neck. “You’re the one in control, okay?”
I nod, though the movement is a little stiff.
He entwines our hands and leads me outside where the noise of Manhattan on a Friday night accosts our ears. These windows must be made of something pretty awesome to block out all this noise.
He sits on the lounger, placing his drink on the table.
“I’d love for you to join me here.” He pats between his legs. “But understand if you don’t want to.”
“Sure.” I place my wine glass next to his tumbler and slide into the lounger, my back to his chest.
His fingers brush the strands of my hair to one side so his chin can rest on my shoulder.
“It is a beautiful city,” I say admiring the view. It’s not as beautiful as the view from Glacier Point, but it’s nice.
“It’s louder than I remember.” He chuckles into my ear and places his lips on my shoulder right where it meets my neck. Shivers scatter up my spine in waves and I find myself leaning toward him.
I make some non-committal noise, completely distracted with the feel of him pressed against my back. When I adjust a bit my hands land on his legs.
“You smell amazing.” His arms wrap around my middle. The fabric on my dress is thin because my skin is scorching under his touch.
“So do you.” I tilt my head, and he captures my lips with his own.
This is a different kiss. It’s slower and more languid and his fingers graze down the side of my face. I could swear I’m in a dream. That my eyes are going to pop open and I’ll be alone in my dark bedroom living out my own private fantasy.
“I need to tell you something. Before we go any further, there’s something I want you to know.” He casts one more small kiss on my lip
s as though he’s worried it will be our last.
“Tell me later.” I circle around and sit on my knees between his legs, taking his head in my hands. “Forgive me ahead of time if I’m awkward with all this.” I place my lips to his, but he shakes his head and tears his face away from mine.
“What do you mean?” he asks, a line forming between his eyebrows.
“This. I haven’t done it.”
He looks panicked for a moment. “You haven’t…”
I wave him off. “I’m not a virgin.” He visibly relaxes. “I’ve just never initiated… you know.”
“I don’t want you to be anxious. If you don’t want to—”
“No, I do, that’s the whole point. But the anxiety of waiting for it to happen is killing me.”
He laughs. “Do you want to strip me bare and go at it right here?”
I sit back and stare down between us. “I’d rather go inside. I’m not big on the voyeur thing.”
“Oh, Brooklyn, you are—”
I stand from the lounger, feeling stupid. “Naive?”
“No, not naive.”
I go inside and head to my bedroom, but Wyatt grabs my wrist and twists me around. I fall into his hold. “Stop running away from me. I was going to say, you’re perfect.” His lips land on mine and he grabs under my thighs, hoisting me into his arms.
My hands hold his head to mine, never wanting him to stop kissing me. Our mouths are frantic as though one of us could disappear at any moment.
“Don’t ever think badly of yourself because to me you’re perfect. So fucking perfect I’m another man around you. A better man.”
His fingers find the top of my zipper and he lowers it inch by inch as he casts open-mouthed kisses along my chin and down my neck.
“Stand for a second,” he mumbles, lowering me to the floor.
His gaze falls down my body and back up, his hands sliding under the straps of my dress until they fall down past my shoulders. He guides them down my arms, watching my body intently as the material slips past my breasts and over my navel. His breath hitches as it passes my hips and cascades to the floor below.
