“Maybe we should go to the hospital?” I offer him a hand.
He waves me off. “I’m not going to the hospital. I’m fine. I played football in high school. I was hit by linemen twice my size. I know what a concussion feels like.”
He does make it out of the plane and down the stairs without incident, but I’m still worried.
“Thank you so much, Nancy.” I smile at her. “We’ll look forward to that phone call tomorrow. Like, really early so I can get away from Mr. Crabby, okay?”
She giggles.
“Annie!” he shouts from where he stands next to the car.
“Thanks again.” I walk down the stairs slowly just to annoy him. From the way his jaw is clenched, I’d say I’m successful in my endeavor.
“Take us to the closest hotel,” he tells the driver.
“Actually, I need to go to a mall. A big box store at the very least.”
Enzo glances at me.
“I need clothes. I have nothing. A toothbrush would be nice.”
He mumbles something.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says and doesn’t speak the rest of the way.
After a not-so-quick stop at Target—because who comes out of there with only the items they went in for?—we arrive at the hotel.
Enzo slides his card across the counter to the hotel employee. “Two rooms.”
“No.”
“What?” He looks at me.
The woman behind the counter holds his credit card, intrigue in her features.
“You might have a concussion. The doctor told me the signs to look for. How am I going to do that from a room away?”
“I’m fine. I told you.” He nods to the front desk employee.
She moves her hand to swipe the card, but I stop her.
“I’m not calling your mom tomorrow when you don’t wake up and saying, ‘Well, he told me he was okay.’ Do you want me to make that call? Because I’m sure if the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t want to make that call to my dad.”
His body deflates like a balloon and I worry he’s going to fall to the floor. He’s tired. That’s one sign of a concussion.
“Well, Mother Teresa, what do you suggest we do?”
I look at the front desk employee. “One room please.”
The woman smiles and I bet she’s thinking, “Yeah, I’d play the concussion card to share a room with him too.”
“One room?” Enzo says it as if I asked him to buy me a box of tampons.
“We’re adults. I’m sure there’re two beds.” I whip my head in the front desk girl’s direction. “There’re two beds, right?”
She nods.
“See. We’re good. You sleep in one bed and I sleep in the other. Do you snore?” I wave it off. “It doesn’t matter. I bought earplugs at Target just in case.”
“Good to know.”
The woman sets up our room, and we walk over to the elevators.
“I’m not sure why you want to share a room with me,” he murmurs once we’re in the small space.
“Because I don’t want you to go unconscious and die. Sorry for caring.” The door dings and I file out, following the signs to the room. “Are you hungry?”
“No. I just want to lie down.”
“Okay, but no shutting your eyes.” I wiggle my finger in front of his face, and he blows out an annoyed breath.
I open the door and step into a typical hotel room. Probably not Enzo Mancini’s typical hotel room, but there’re two beds, it looks clean, and there’s room service, so we’re good. As I inspect the sheets, Enzo puts his computer bag on the chair and falls into the other bed on his back, blocking the light from his eyes.
“So you’re picking that one?” I ask.
“Appears so. Is that a problem?”
“No. I don’t like to sleep by the door, but it’s okay.” I’m totally joking, but he doesn’t have to know that.
“You want me to move?”
“Could we play rock, paper, scissors for it?”
His arm falls off his face, and he props himself up on his elbows to give me the look of death. Like he legit wants me to fall to the floor and die in his presence.
My laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. “I’m sorry.”
He crawls off the bed and on to the one closest to the door. “You’ve been waiting to use that line, haven’t you?”
“Maybe.” I shrug and go into the bathroom to put my stuff away. “Don’t fall asleep on me,” I holler from the bathroom.
When he doesn’t respond, I peek around the corner. His arm is off his eyes and they’re closed. I run over, hop on the bed, and jump on it, but I lose my footing on the comforter, slip, and land right on top of him.
His eyes pop open.
“Oh good.” I pat his stubbled cheek. “You need to stay up.”
Unfortunately, as I try to slide off him, I realize something else is up.
Chapter 20
Enzo
* * *
I’m fully aware I’m being an asshole. Should I ask her why she pulled away from the kiss looking repulsed?
Hell yeah.
Am I going to?
Hell no.
I grip her hips and prop her up off my growing erection. “It’s a natural response.” I roll over because it’s not a natural response for me. It’s just my body’s response to her.
“Sorry, but you have to stay up. I’m going to order us some food.” She disappears back into the bathroom.
I’m being punished. I know I am. Otherwise, why on Earth would I be staying in the same hotel room as the woman I want under me, on top of me, next to me, on all fours… shit, the list goes on.
She walks back in, her hair thrown up in a messy bun, the ridiculous pajamas she bought at Target clinging to her body.
I eye her, sliding up to the headboard so she doesn’t pounce on me again. “I really don’t understand why you bought those.”
She looks down and laughs. “What? They’re cute. You could’ve been Captain America.”
I’m not complimenting her, but the way the lounge pants with Wonder Woman logos hug her ass is only making my dick want to point north again. “I told you I’m fine.”
She shrugs then grabs the room service menu near the telephone. After she has it in hand, she hops on her bed like a kid in her first hotel room.
“You like this?” I ask.
She smiles. “I do. Hotels are fun.”
I admire her child-like attitude. It reminds me of when she was in Central Park. She thinks I have multiple personalities? She should look in the mirror.
“You want to have a look?” She extends the menu to me, but I don’t take it.
“You know what I like.”
“Sadly, I do. Is it a healthy day or junk food day?” she asks, setting the menu on the bed.
I quirk an eyebrow, looking for further explanation.
“Every Monday, it’s salad or a protein and vegetable only. As the week carries on, you request subs, burgers, and fries.”
I think about the past week, and damn, she’s right. After a Sunday dinner at my parents’, I swear to eat healthy all week, but it eventually wanes.
“I get it, the whole Monday morning diet thing, but…” She buries her head in the menu once more.
“But what? Let me guess, you’re going to lecture me about all the trans fats I’m consuming?”
“No!” She chuckles. “I’m ordering two appetizers hoping the side Caesar salad will make up for it, but everyone knows that’s not healthy. But we’re here and I’m going to make the most of it. We should rent a movie too.”
“Okay, and then I’ll freeze your bra when you fall asleep first.”
She smirks, glaring at me from the corner of her eye.
“Blanca, my sister,” I answer before she asks how I would know.
“Just so you know, that doesn’t actually happen.”
I shrug. “Enlighten me as to what does.”
“Those
are secrets for the vault.” She tosses the menu onto my bed. “You pick what you want. I’m off duty now.”
Just her saying that makes me want to ask her for another kiss.
I pick up the menu, glance at it, and toss it back to her. “Nachos and a beer.”
“Nachos are a go, but no alcohol, Mr. Concussion.” She wiggles her finger in front of me.
“I’m fine, I told you.”
“And yet you can barely keep your eyes open.”
I feign annoyance, but the truth is, if I fall asleep, then the temptation to do anything other than pig out on room service and watch a movie won’t be stirring underneath every word we speak to one another. “Fine. Water.”
She picks up the phone, orders room service, then snatches the remote off the table between us.
I swing my legs off the bed to grab my computer. “I might as well work.”
“When’s the last time you just chilled out?” she asks and holds up her hand before I can answer. “Remember, I have access to your schedule. You’re always going somewhere, whether it’s with your brothers or clients.”
I stay seated, realizing she’s right. “Well, since Blair Peterson is trying to steal you from under me, I have to stay on my toes.”
Her smile fades. “Not from you. From Jacobson and Earl.”
“You ready to talk about it?”
She picks at her fingers, her twelve-year-old self vanishing and transforming into a twenty-seven-year-old woman who doesn’t want to disappoint anyone. I hope one day she takes what she wants without apology. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but one she’ll need in this business if she ever wants to succeed.
“I declined the offer. It’s no big deal.” She shrugs.
“You look like it’s a big deal.”
Her eyes dart to mine briefly then back down to her lap. “It’s just… my future at Jacobson and Earl isn’t guaranteed. Sure, they agreed to the new terms, but who’s to say I don’t sit at the junior ad exec level for ten years?”
“Then take Coddle’s offer. Which is…?”
She blows out a breath. “They would bring the advertising in-house. I’d be in charge of coming up with the overall branding in the various ads for each product line.”
Fuck. My head rears back. Blair takes no prisoners. How can Annie turn down that opportunity? It’s huge. I can’t deny I’m slightly jealous. No company I’ve worked with has asked for me to come on their staff full-time. If Annie goes to Coddle and they pull their advertising in-house, my chances at making partner are shot. “That’s… big.”
She nods, still concentrating on her hands. “But I can’t take it.”
“Why?”
She looks at me, those burning embers of what’s developing between us there for a moment before they disappear. “Beth just had the baby and I don’t want to be away. My dad is in New York.”
I nod. I understand how important family is.
Picking up the remote, she presses on the movie section. “What do you want to watch?”
Just like that, the conversation is over. I wish I had a crystal ball and could see that Mr. Jacobson will take care of Annie in the future, but I don’t. If I have to go on my gut, I think she might be right in her assessment.
I strip off my jacket and toss it on the chair before stepping out of my shoes and positioning the pillows so I can lean against them on the bed. “No chick flicks.”
“Let’s rock, paper, scissors for it?” She laughs.
I shoot her my most bored expression, and she falls over on the bed, flailing in laughter.
She’s so fucking cute. Will I survive tonight? I’m not so sure.
“What’s your choice?” I ask.
She rests the cursor on Wonder Woman, raising her eyebrows my way. “I’m kidding,” she says before I say anything.
“A Quiet Place?” I offer.
“And I won’t even make you play me for it.”
“I regret ever telling you that. Just FYI, I do win. Often.”
“I’m sure you do.”
I want to kiss that cocky smirk off her face. “Just play the movie.”
She smiles sweetly and presses Play, wiggles under the blankets, and turns off the lights. “I’ll be checking on you. No falling asleep.”
A grunt is my only response.
You know what’s the worst thing you can do with the woman you want but can’t have? The same woman you’ve been jerking off to for weeks? The woman you kissed less than five hours ago and can’t wait to kiss again? Watch a movie with zero sound when she’s sitting one bed away.
Room service has arrived, and I suggest we watch the movie while we eat, but no, she’s decided we should pause it because we’ll miss something.
“Are we going to eat in silence since we can’t watch the movie?” I ask, needing something as a distraction.
“We could talk,” she offers, stabbing her lettuce with her fork.
“About the campaign?” I’m torn because I don’t want to talk about the campaign, and I don’t want to talk about myself. I’m a pro at this though, so I’ll swing the conversation her way. “What’s the deal with you and your mom?”
She blanches. “Um… want to talk about past hookups?”
“Those aren’t nearly as interesting as your mom.”
“I don’t believe that. Have you ever had any stalkers?” She picks up her drink.
I snag a nacho chip. “No. Why would a woman stalk me?”
I fail to mention the girl in college who had a hard time realizing we’d hooked up and there wouldn’t be anything after.
She looks me over, her pupils dilated. “You’re you.”
“I take it you consider that a good thing?” Then why were you repulsed when I kissed you?
“Oh please. I’m pretty sure you live in a house with mirrors.” She bites into her potato skin.
I chuckle. “I do.”
She waits for me to say something else, but silence falls over the room.
“What about you?” Time to turn the tables. “How many serious boyfriends have you had?”
She places the potato skin down and sips her Coke. “Why do you assume there were boyfriends? Maybe I just had hookups.”
I laugh.
“What?”
“Because you’re not the type.”
She accepts defeat quickly. “No one worth talking about. Believe me, if we swapped rosters, I’m sure you’re more a football team and I’m more of a basketball team.”
“Sports analogy. I like it.” I don’t refute that my list of partners is probably much longer than hers. No way she’s willing to sleep with just anyone. Nor should she be. She’s damn near perfect. If perfect is beautiful, bossy, and sometimes infuriating.
She only eats half of her food and I accept her leftovers, the nachos not nearly enough to fill me.
“Can we play a game of rock, paper, scissors?” she asks coyly, as though she’s shy to ask, but it’s something she really wants to do.
I blow out a breath. “Are we playing for something?”
“No. Unless you want to.”
“How about questions and answers?” I say.
“What do you mean?”
“If I lose, you get to ask me a question. If I win, I get to ask you a question.”
“So this will pretty much be the Enzo Mancini show?” She giggles, jumping off her bed and onto mine, the Wonder Woman T-shirt rising up her waist. She’s quick to pull it down, and her cheeks flush my favorite apricot color.
“You wish.” I push away the room service table, wiping my hands and mouth with a napkin.
“On the count of three.”
From her eagerness, I worry she’s some kind of pro.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three,” she says.
She shoots scissors.
I shoot paper.
She uses her fingers to cut my flat palm as if it’s paper. Dom, Carm, and I don’t do that.
I like it.
“I win.” She dances with her upper body and her breasts jiggle.
Holy shit, is she not wearing a bra?
“Shoot.” I nod at her.
She stares at the ceiling for a second then levels her gaze on me. “Were you ever hurt by a woman? Is that why you can’t commit to anyone?”
“No and no. Should I ask why you’d ask that question?”
She shakes her head. “I always had this suspicion about you. You never brought a woman to the Christmas party. You didn’t treat your assistants very nicely.”
“So you thought a woman tore my heart out?”
She shrugs. “Yeah.”
“And what do you think now?” I down a gulp of my water.
“I don’t know.” Her mood sobers, and I don’t know why. “Again?” she asks, perking up a bit.
“Um, yeah! I haven’t gotten to ask a question.”
“And you might not.” She giggles, bringing her fist to her palm.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three,” I say this time.
She shoots rock, and I shoot paper.
Her eyes widen. “Are you hustling me?”
“I told you I can win.”
She picks up my hand and places it over her fist. I really like this “show how you lose” thing she does.
I pretend to examine her as though I’m trying to think of the worst question to ask her. I could nail her for the mom thing, but that seems unfair. I could inquire more about the Coddle offer, but I really don’t want to talk about work tonight. There’s only one answer I really want, and since I’m Enzo Mancini and I don’t dodge bushes, I jump over them, I ask what I really want to know.
“Why were you disgusted after I kissed you on the plane?”
Her face falters and I wish I was anyone else right now. Someone who wouldn’t have had the balls to ask that question. Someone smarter who would’ve flirted their way into that question. Because it looks as though I won’t like the answer.
Chapter 21
Annie
* * *
He’s going there. I thought I could laugh at how many times he lost. I thought we’d ask our favorite ice cream flavors and maybe how old we were when we lost our virginities. I know I asked about a woman who hurt him and maybe this is in retaliation to that question, but I suddenly wish I’d just turned the movie back on.
Forbidden Desires Page 27
