by K. A. Linde
“Wait!” Chyna called, glancing around to make sure she wasn’t disturbing anyone. “You didn’t tell me how to reach you.”
Cassandra turned back to face Chyna without a trace of laughter left in her eyes. “Just ask Marco.”
“Great,” she muttered under her breath as Cassandra walked away. She had all but turned down a job offer without a consolation prize from Marco, and the only way she knew how to get in contact with this odd Cassandra woman was through the one person who would want to keep her away from anyone else. Not that she had any intention of taking some lame collection-modeling gig. She could do better than that, and she would.
When she glanced back up, she found Marco striding in her direction. She placed her empty Champagne glass on the tray of a passing waiter and braced herself for impact.
“My little star,” he murmured softly as soon as he reached her. “You’ve been gone much too long.”
“Hardly any time at all,” she corrected.
“You had company,” he stated plainly.
Somehow, she heard the threat in his voice.
“Everyone wants to marvel at your genius. It seems you have had another successful event,” she said, playing to his ego when all she wanted to do was bruise it.
“Of course it was, but what were you doing talking to her?” he asked, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the center of the dance floor. He leaned in closer, so they wouldn’t be overheard.
“She was talking to me,” Chyna said, trying to pull out of his grasp.
“Why would she talk to you in the first place?” he growled, his brown eyes boring into her.
Chyna glared back at him, wanting none of this attitude right now. “What does it even matter? No one can talk to me?”
Marco laughed lightly at her. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not being ridiculous,” she said, turning her chin and facing the other direction. She was tired of the game, and she just wanted to know what was going to become of all of this. Was he going to offer her the job or not? If only she could just ask him.
“You’re getting all worked up. While I like that, it is entirely unnecessary in this situation, and you should maybe hold on to that energy for later. You’re going to need it,” he said, running a hand down her arm.
“I’m not the only one getting worked up,” Chyna responded.
“Nor will you be later.”
“So, why shouldn’t she be talking to me?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
Marco laughed again at her ignorance. “Don’t you know who that is?”
Chyna hated admitting her lack of knowledge, but she shook her head.
“She kept her maiden name despite her marital status,” he said, clearly enjoying drawing this out for her. “Cassandra Corsa.”
Cassandra Corsa. Chyna was floored, destroyed, and totally dumbfounded.
“She is Clarice Corsa’s granddaughter and the owner of the Corsa fashion line. She’s one of the wealthiest women in the world.”
And, Chyna just turned her down for a job.
Fuck!
7
Past
“Why? I don’t understand Mr. Whatever-His-Name-Is at all,” Chyna repeated for what felt like the tenth time.
“Does this have to happen every time I get called into work late?” Adam demanded, pushing his hands into his pockets deeper and deeper.
She knew he was frustrated. He had it written all over him, but she couldn’t stop. Why was he always the one who had to go in? And, what did they need him to do at ten o’clock at night at an architectural company? Wouldn’t the buildings still be standing the next day?
“Because you always have to go to work late,” she reminded him. “Why don’t you ask someone else to go for you?”
“It’s a small company. I’m the only other person working on this building, and there’s a deadline. Mr. Anderson is an old man. He doesn’t get the graphic architectural design aspect as well as he should, and he trusts me,” he said, looking down at the ground, shuffling his feet. “What would you say?”
She knew what she would say! The same thing she had been saying to him all along: Why even bother with this company? Why bother with an old senile man and a company going nowhere in today’s market? It was a dead-end job with shit hours. She wished he could see that, but she couldn’t say that to him. Not today. He looked too heartbroken to even consider turning down Mr. Whatever-His-Name-Is, and she figured he liked his job. Why else would he keep going back when he could do better? She wondered that about a lot of things with him.
“I’d tell him that I couldn’t work tonight,” she finally answered.
It was the best she could do. It wouldn’t work. He would still go in, but she couldn’t hold it back. She couldn’t lie to him.
Adam sighed and looked off across the room, not meeting her eye. He looked as if he knew that she was going to say that. “Do you want me to call him back?” Adam asked dejectedly.
Chyna looked at him very closely. Was he serious? Would he actually try to get out of work for her? God, he looked like he actually would. She groaned. “Noooo,” she sighed, annoyed. “I don’t want you to call him back.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his hazel eyes meeting hers. “I would, you know.”
She hmphed. “I know.”
“Chyna,” he said, looking up at her.
“No, it’s fine. Go into work,” she told him.
“Hey,” he said, pulling his hands out of his pockets, reaching for her. “You’re not going to be angry, are you?”
“No,” she said sullenly, playing the part of the upset girlfriend wonderfully.
“I told you I would call in,” he said, uncrossing her arms and pulling her into him.
“I know,” she began.
“But?”
“But, you’re only doing it because I asked you to.”
Adam looked at her baffled. “Of course, I’m doing it because you asked me to.”
“Do you think I should have to ask?” she questioned him, frustrated. They had plans tonight. She wanted to spend time with him. Why did it feel like she had to fight her way into that time?
“Chyna, I don’t get you sometimes,” he said, releasing her. “You tell me you don’t want me to go into work, so I tell you I’m going to get out of work. Then, you get angry with me for deciding to get out of work. I can’t win. How do I win?”
She sighed. He had already won.
“I don’t know,” she conceded. She looked down at the ground, hating this conversation as much as he did.
“Well, when you figure it out, will you let me know?” he asked quietly, reaching for his jacket.
“Are you leaving?” she asked, her voice raising an octave.
“I have work,” he reminded her.
“But, you’re leaving now? After we just fought?”
Adam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Did I miss something?”
“You’re not going to have make-up sex with me?” she demanded with a giggle. She was so getting gypped in this situation.
He burst out laughing. “Am I supposed to?”
She nodded her head adamantly. “Of course.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” he said, still laughing softly to himself. “You astound me sometimes.”
“At least I’m good for something,” she murmured.
“You’re good for everything,” he said, pulling her close again. “And, I’d have make-up sex with you if I had time.”
“Right here? Right now?” she asked, shimmying against him in the middle of the kitchen.
“I like the bedroom. A bit more spacious, don’t you think?” he asked with a goofy grin.
Chyna rolled her eyes. “How romantic. Do you want me to close the door and turn off the lights, too?”
Adam leaned forward and brushed a kiss on her lips. “Shut up,” he murmured softly. “I never hear any complaining when that door is closed.”
She smiled agains
t his lips. “So, let’s go then.”
“When I get home…or tomorrow,” he amended, clearly thinking it would be a late night.
“Fine,” she groaned before he kissed her again.
“I’ll text you when I’m done,” he said, grabbing his big sketchbook and walking toward the door. “Are you still going out?”
Chyna shrugged as if it was an actual question. She had nothing better to do, and she and Adam had been planning to go out that night anyway. She might as well hit a club while the night was young. Maybe when she was thoroughly sloshed, Adam would be home, and she could jump his bones. It sounded appealing.
“I figured,” he said, wrenching the door open. “Maybe you can meet up with John later tonight. I know he was supposed to be hanging out with some friends from work, but I’m sure he’d like the company.”
“Have you always babied him?” Chyna asked with a smirk. Really, she wouldn’t mind hanging out with John.
“He’s too busy for many friends, Chyna, and you have all of New York City.”
She shrugged. Point taken. “How will I find this brother of yours?”
“I’ll give him your number. Maybe you can pick him up, so he’ll actually loosen up a bit,” Adam told her.
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll just wait for his call,” she said, pushing down any and every thought she had about his brother.
“Please be safe. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. You’re far too precious.”
She smiled warmly at his telltale good-bye. “I’ll be as safe as always.”
His smile caught her right in the gut at his exit, and she remembered why she had fallen so hard for him.
As soon as the door closed, she retreated to her bedroom to change. She stripped out of the navy skirt and sweater she had been wearing all day and pulled on a black minidress over her head. It was sleek and form-fitting. She knew it would draw attention, especially when paired with her favorite leather Manolos.
She didn’t know who was going to be out tonight. It was still too early to find her friends, if she even wanted to call them that. They rarely frequented the clubs until well past midnight. She didn’t care though because she was certain to know someone wherever she went. Either way, she just wished Adam was going with her. He wasn’t the biggest party animal, but sometimes when she was with him, she didn’t even need it. She could stay home, wrapped up in his arms, watching a movie, and just be.
Throwing her black hair out of her face, she took a deep breath and shut down her brain. This had always been her thing. She had always been the party girl, and she liked that. She wanted to keep it that way.
Chyna continued to shake that feeling as she grabbed her long black wool, belted coat and exited her apartment. She had Carl drive her across town and entered the nightclub. As the pulsing beats hit her full force, she eased back into her persona. The flashing lights and loud music coursed through her veins, and she closed her eyes as she soaked in the sensation of freedom.
A gentleman swept her up to the VIP section a moment later. Soon, she was surrounded by high-end clientele gyrating against one another, and she quickly moved through the mass to the bar.
When she approached, the bartender nodded at her and had two shots of tequila poured before she even had a chance to ask him. She smirked and downed them one after another. How refreshing…
A dirty martini landed on the bar next, and she smiled back in thanks. She had earned her bartender’s manners by tipping handsomely. They all appreciated her here, and she appreciated how strong they poured the drinks.
She would have spotted the guy inching toward her a mile off. He was attractive. By all means, he was very attractive, but her taste buds were dull after having just met Adam’s insanely hot brother. Plus, this guy looked like the type that thought his drink meant he should get something in return. She wasn’t up for that anymore, not when she had Adam. It felt kind of nice actually.
“Nice choice,” the guy said, finally moving close enough to her to brave speaking.
Chyna smiled sweetly up at him and tried to imagine what he would look like sweating in gym shorts. Yeah, no, not even close. He wasn’t fat exactly, but he could afford to lose some weight around the waistline and bulk up those shoulders. God, could shoulders get much better?
Stop!
She wanted to kick herself. She couldn’t think about John like that, and she certainly couldn’t start comparing people to him. Just because he was hot and built and nice and—
Stop!
Okay, calm down! Breathe in, breathe out. This was stupid. She clearly needed to drink more. Her mind was all fucked-up.
“You…uh, come here often?” he asked next.
Chyna almost snorted at him, but she was too busy trying to down her martini to drown away her vision of John’s tattoos. She had Adam, and Adam was sexy in his own right. Plus, she was dating him. No one else was able to handle her shit.
“I guess that’s a yes,” he responded, answering for her.
“Yes.” She put down the martini and then glanced at her bartender.
“I can get the next round,” he offered.
“That’s really quite all right,” she said, turning him down with a smile.
“You here with a boyfriend or something?” he asked as if that was the only reason it would make sense that she would be turning him down.
“Not tonight,” she said as a dismissal, taking the next martini placed on the bar.
“I’ll have whatever she’s drinking,” the guy said to the bartender, laying down a hundred dollar bill.
She almost rolled her eyes. Was that supposed to impress me?
Chyna sipped on her martini, wanting any excuse to get away from this guy. Why did he think he even had the right to be in her presence? Guys were so fucking irritating. Couldn’t they take a hint?
She was off in her own world when the guy’s hand trailed down the side of her arm. She glared up at him. “What are you doing?” she asked, pulling her arm back. She did not want him touching her.
“You want to get out of here?” he asked, looking ridiculous as he took a sip of his martini. “I have a suite at the Plaza right now. It’s got your name written all over it.”
“No,” Chyna said exasperated. “What could possibly give you that thought? You don’t even know my name.”
“Come on, baby,” he slurred.
Ah! He was wasted. He hid it well. “I’m not your baby, and I’ve politely told you no. I’m not generally polite,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
“You’ll have a good time,” he continued.
“Of that I’m certain,” she said sarcastically. She dropped her half-finished martini back on the bar and motioned to her bartender that she was through. She had a circling tab at the bar, so if she had to leave, they could just bill her. It was her favorite thing about this place.
“Where are you going?” the guy asked when she started walking away.
“Get a clue!” she yelled over her shoulder.
Chyna pulled her touch screen cell phone out of her purse to shoot off a text to her driver. She was sick of this place and needed a change in venue. If she stayed, she was sure that drunken asshole would press his luck. She was supposed to be safe tonight.
She hit Send on the phone and was about to put it away when the screen lit up with a strange number. Because she had reached the edge of the club and was already pushing through the double doors into the silence, she answered the call. “Hello?”
“Hey, Chyna, it’s John.”
Chyna stumbled in her high heels, knocking into the bouncer. She actually stumbled. She had been wearing high heels since she was twelve. She could be rip-roaring drunk and didn’t miss a step in these things. The bouncer caught her easily, giving her a look like she needed to get her shit together before he released her.
“Adam gave me your number and said you might be out tonight,” he continued.
“Uh…yeah, hi,” she muttered. “He mentioned that.�
��
“So, Adam’s working late and can’t hang out. You doing anything?”
“I’m just leaving a bar. Did you want to meet somewhere?” she asked.
Yes, Adam had told her to hang out with him, but what was she doing? She couldn’t be alone with this guy. Hello? Bad idea? Yeah, nice to hear from you.
“I’m not meeting friends until later,” he said.
“Me either,” Chyna said, sliding into the backseat of her town car as soon as the door opened. “Adam said you might need a ride. I’m already in my car. Do you want me to pick you up?”
“Is he trying to get me drunk?” John asked with a laugh at the end.
“Sounds like him,” she responded, waiting in her car.
“Sly bastard. All right, yeah, sounds perfect. I’ll text you the address.”
“Great.”
“It’ll take me a minute to get ready. You can have the attendant let you up to the top floor.”
She shouldn’t head that way. She really shouldn’t.
And still she handed the address to her driver.
8
Past
John’s apartment building was in a nice part of town. He lived on the top floor. Global had to be paying him crazy money for him to afford a penthouse. She stared up at it in dismay because…fuck, she just wanted to fuck Adam’s brother.
She would have laughed if it weren’t so messed up. She couldn’t go over to John’s apartment. There were beds there…and counters…and she was horny. Fuck. She was also clearly teetering toward drunk. How fast had she downed those martinis?
Anyway. She pushed her mind back to the matter at hand—fucking John. Wait, no. Maybe she didn’t even want to fuck him. Well, all she knew was that after only a few short hours, she had already completely pegged him as a bad boy—the kind of guy she would have fucked in an instant before Adam.
Before Adam.
Right. Why hadn’t he fucked her before leaving again? That would have helped. Then, she wouldn’t be so goddamn horny…and drunk. Had she mentioned that she was getting drunk?
