Perfectly Bad: a bad boy romance

by May Ball, Alice

  “So, Dino. Tell me about super-cooled relays.”

  ~ ~

  The evening light was the best feature of the Park Place Pinnacle apartment. Daytime in New York was a mess of color and noise. As the light slipped down to a glow on the horizon and dark velvet covered the sky, Manhattan began to sparkle like a huge playground for adults.

  Pierce kept the lights inside low and enjoyed the majestic penthouse view.

  Calhoun, Callaghan, and Dino went out to hunt for Thai food, French wine and other delights. Often as not, they’d lure some exotic girls with promises of extravagant antics.

  Pierce faced the loggia, enjoying the light. Princess came out to get a glass of water from the kitchen. He said, “Is the evening view okay from the dungeon?”

  She turned her head and they were unexpectedly close. Eye to eye. He drank in the perfume of her. She’d made free with his credit cards this morning and scooped up bags of swag from scent counters as well as dress shops, but what his nose was sensing now was a perfume all of her own.

  He remembered her in the Excelsior, how fresh she’d smelled from the shower. And something else. Now, here it was again. It made him feel lighter, just being near.

  It was quiet. He looked in her eyes and she pulled her lips in between her teeth as she looked back.

  His phone rang. On the display, he saw the number was Fat Tony’s. That could only mean one thing. He didn’t want to take the call.

  She was in the kitchen with him and there seemed to be nobody else in the apartment. And she turned to find him unexpectedly close.

  Princess felt a sensation that was strange and familiar, like the sound of a distant bell. He turned and she turned, and it was like they weren’t prepared.

  She almost forgot not to hold him, not to kiss him. For a second she didn’t remember to hate him for leaving her hanging about what the hell had happened last night.

  It was like a glimpse of how, at a different time, in another life, they could have been—what, friends maybe?—something. With a shiver, she remembered the sensation she had woken up to. Reaching across the fluffy white pillows and sheets. What, if anything, had happened? If anything.

  His eyes on hers, hers on his, they made a slow dance. Hers questioning. She felt his stare, evasive but playful.

  Of course, she was desperate to know, to get reassurance that nothing had happened at all. But that thought left her with a hollow pang, deep down inside. She pressed her lips together. How could she ask, what could she say?

  Oh, yeah, last night, ha! Do you remember if we climbed each other’s bodies? Did you rip my clothes off me, by some chance, or did I rend yours asunder? Did I draw you into my warm, soft, secret place? Did we fuck, at all, to your recollection?

  It was agonizing, maddening, that she still hadn’t thought of a way to find out. Even more maddening that he wasn’t going to be enough of a gentleman to drop a hint. Bastard.

  Then his phone rang. More pressing business, no doubt. No time to explore what’s in front of you, Mr. Agostini. She wanted to throw her glass of water right at him. She might have, too, if he hadn’t turned to go and take his precious call somewhere private.

  There wouldn’t be any point in launching a glass of water at his back. The satisfaction would have been to see it splash over his face, to see his astonished eyes blink and his mouth flap. To see him lose control and be taken by surprise, even if it were only for a moment.

  When he returned a few minutes later, he said, “I saw your father this morning, Princess. Have you spoken to him?” Her head snapped around.

  Instantly alarmed she said, “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know, Princess. I’m not sure that he always has his own best interests at heart.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “He doesn’t always do what’s best for himself.” He paused. “Or you.”

  “Mr. Agostini, when we’re in need of the family counseling expertise of a gangster, I’ll be sure and let you know. I know that you’re trying hard to camouflage yourself as a human being, but you’ll never make it work.”

  He shrugged.

  Daddy hadn’t replied to any of her texts.

  She went back to her suite. Agostini thought it was funny to call it “the dungeon.” In the lounge, she watched the multicolored lights of the traffic snake up and down Broadway and through the blaze of Times Square.

  She called her daddy’s phone but it went straight to voicemail.

  She rang Ethan.

  “Hey, Princess! How’s the caged bird?”

  “I’m good, thanks. Still kinda caged but, you know.”

  “Okay, this sounds like your business voice.”

  “Ethan, you know me too well. I need a DJ for a big event next week. Someone hot, at the top of their game. A name. Can you suggest anyone?”

  “Sure, whoever you like. Long as the event’s in Miami.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “Look, there must be someone staying late or coming back early. Let me make some calls.”

  “Would you?”

  “Of course. Now, really, how are you? What’s happening?”

  After she hung up, Princess felt more relaxed and secure. Ethan was always a good sounding board, and the sound of his voice reassured her. At a couple of points in the conversation she felt like talking to him about Daddy, but then she steered away from it.

  There was something there she wasn’t quite ready to face, or maybe she just wasn’t ready to admit it to someone else, not even to Ethan. Not until she had a better idea about it herself.

  She punched Daddy’s number again. This time, he picked up. “Daddy, what’s happening?”

  “Oh, Princess. Hi. Are you all right? It’s good to hear from you.” His voice was slow.

  “Yes, I’m fine, Daddy. How are you? I was kinda worried when you didn’t call or send me a text.”

  “Well, I’m just fine, honey. You know the club’s been closed while Mr. Agostini’s contractors are refitting it all, so I’ve just been, you know, hanging out.”

  “You haven’t been over to Mikey’s have you, or out to see Fat Tony?”

  “Well, I may have popped by.”

  “Daddy! I’m working to get us out of this mess, and you’re going to bury us in it again.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “I’ve been winning, Princess. There. That’s not so bad.”

  “Daddy, you always win. But you always lose, too. Have you been winning more than you’re losing, Daddy? That’s the thing.”

  “Princess, you don’t have to worry.” Oh, boy. When her father said that, it brought up some terrible memories. That was the worst of the worst. And he didn’t say anything about the club at all. Princess couldn’t remember having a conversation with him ever, not in her whole life, where there wasn’t something said about Hotsteppa’s.

  Princess hung up then sat and watched the New York traffic glow brighter as the light slipped from deep blue into the streaks of sunset. She had to come to terms with the fact that her father wasn’t going to be much help to her getting the club back.

  In fact, if she was going to get the club back, he probably wouldn’t be much help running it afterwards. They couldn’t let it be so vulnerable again, such easy pickings. The business side of it wasn’t fantastic but it was profitable.

  It was Daddy’s carelessness that brought Hotsteppa’s to the situation it was in, and she’d have to keep him from doing it again. Princess would have to take it over. Out with the old, she thought, in with the new.

  With a shock, she wondered if she had started thinking like a gangster. No, she told herself, this really is just business. Daddy and I need the club, and the club needs to be protected. That sounded like something a gangster might say, too.

  Pierce Agostini was not going to get to her. She wouldn’t allow it. However hot the moment in the kitchen had made her, however strong her recollection of his scent. However much she felt
the memory of his heat on the front of her body. She bit her lip.

  All that she was doing was thinking about what she would need to do to protect the business from a man like Agostini. Anyway, all that was fantasy; it was just a dream until she was able to get the club back from him.

  Would he keep to his word? If she helped him with his launch of the financial instrument, whatever that was supposed to mean, would he keep his end of the bargain and turn the club back over to her?

  Princess thought that he would. She thought he could be warming to her, too. Whatever he’d said about it, the way he’d dealt with the Mr. Horner, offering to cover his grandson’s college debts, saying he’d lease the land back to him, she felt there had been a strong sense of justice, of fair dealing at work there.

  There was a danger of her warming to him, too, and she knew it. And he’s hot as a poker. She had to keep her mind off that track. How was she going to find out about last night other than by asking him directly?

  She heard sounds in the main room. Calhoun, Callaghan and Dino had returned. Sparkling laughs and squeals told Princess they had found some excitable female company to bring along.

  She heard a tap at the door and Calhoun’s voice. “We’ve some food, Miss, if you’d like something.”

  About a half a dozen girls spilled out of the elevator. Behind them, Dino, Callaghan and Calhoun grinned like schoolboys. Dino introduced Julz, Toni, Shawna, Kat, Mona, Alicia, Dawn and Roxy, saying, “This is Pierce. He’s the billionaire gangster whose apartment this is.”

  Pierce grabbed him by the elbow and wheeled him unceremoniously over to the kitchen counter. “Don’t do that bullshit, Dino. You know I hate it.”

  Dino looked at him shamefaced. “Sorry, Pierce. I was only trying to have us a little fun.”

  “Sure, Dino, I know. But no slack talk like that, all right?”

  “Sure,” Dino said. “You’re the boss, Pierce.” Pierce squeezed his elbow until he saw a reaction on Dino’s face.

  “Don’t forget it.”

  He looked around and saw Princess following Calhoun up for the promise of food. When she saw the girls, all shiny, shimmery and sexy, she scowled. Agostini disengaged himself from Dino and introduced Princess to the girls, seeing if he could remember all of their names.

  Callaghan and Calhoun set out the Thai food on the kitchen counter with plates, cutlery and chopsticks. Dino went to gather the girls. He encircled them like a big, cuddly sheepdog. His mood recovered as he chatted, purred and cooed with them. He moved over to the stereo to put on some music.

  Pierce beckoned the tall, dark eyed girl with pink lipstick. “Princess, this is Shawna.” He waved to Kat, the bouncy blonde, and introduced her, then slinky, sly-looking Julz, and Toni, the relaxed and gorgeous tomboy.

  As the music started up, it sounded like something that would drift out of a restaurant in Little Italy. Toni made a face and said, “Excuse me,” and she worked her phone as she went over to Dino by the stereo.

  After a moment, some bright Cuban music started up and Toni turned back with a bright smile. She put a hand on her belly and her hips rolled.

  Agostini smiled. He said, “Over there is Mona.” The slim redhead waved back and smiled as she danced a playful figure eight around Calhoun and Callaghan.

  Pierce called to Dawn, Roxy and Alicia, who were wide-eyed, pointing and gasping as they took their drinks out to the loggia. Then he perched on a stool to eat near Princess.

  She took some food onto a plate then sat. She ate with a fork. Agostini liked to use the wooden chopsticks.

  As she ate, Princess fixed him with her eye. “About last night.”

  He picked up a butterfly prawn and some noodles with his chopsticks. “What about it?” The new Thai place Calhoun had found was good. Delicate flavors, not just spicy.

  “Last night in the hotel?” she said it with a lift at the end, like there was some significance.

  He said, “Yes, what about it?”

  She put down her fork. “‘What about it?’ Things like that happen all the time, do they?”

  “What?”

  “No, you’re right, of course. It really wouldn’t mean anything at all to you. I was stupid to think otherwise.” She picked up her plate and headed back to the dungeon.

  What the hell had she been talking about?

  She put the plate of food down on the table in her lounge. Now she wished she’d picked up a drink, but she wasn’t about to go back out there. The glass in the bathroom with some water would do.

  Damnit, her appetite was gone. Something must have happened last night. And from the way that he acted, it meant nothing at all to him. Nothing.

  The bastard.

  The room was dark but she didn’t put on the light. After he had his fill of rice, noodles and seafood, he would be feasting on one or more of the girls that Dino had obviously brought back for him. Brought him for desert, no doubt.

  That, she assumed, was what he would do on any night of the week. Send his henchmen out to trawl for girls and then have them. Two or three at a time, most likely.

  She lay on the bed, facing the thin muslin that draped over the window from the ceiling to the floor. Unhappily, she pulled the thick, soft covers around her and stared unseeing through her window at the twinkling lights of Manhattan.

  She watched and wondered about all the people in their cars, driving through their ordinary lives. Ordinary lives like the one she never wanted. Had she been wrong, had she chosen badly?

  The light grew more faint. She half-remembered him in the bar, saying, “This is the part where I say, ‘Why don’t we take a bottle upstairs.’ And you say, ‘Your room or mine?’” Had he said that, or did she dream it?

  She knew that she dreamed him kissing her, long, deep and wet, throwing her onto a bed, grabbing her hair and tearing her clothes. She knew that was a dream because her dress was still intact.

  He couldn’t have ripped the front of it open, staring into her wild eyes as he did. It was not possible that he tore her panties with his teeth. Nor sucked her, driven his tongue into her like a deep, soulful kiss, massaged her there with his lips.

  It was a dream or—or what?—her vivid picture of his body enfolding her and taking her, his hands freely taking pleasure in all of her dark places.

  The image of his eyes glowing, the sensation of his breath burning her skin, the memory of her gasps of astonishment as he lifted her, spun her. Filled her and drilled her. She must have conjured all of that for herself out of somewhere.

  And still, the recollection was as clear as any real event. And her regretful yearning, was it over the fantasy, the dream that she knew she shouldn’t have had, or was it for the fact that she had awoken from it? Awoken to find it gone. Melted away like a Hudson morning mist.

  She dreamed of a dark figure and she knew it was him. Threw her up against a cold, brick wall. Turned her to face the wall and dragged her legs apart. She shivered, remembering the cool air and the relief as he tore her soft undies.

  Then she felt the hot, hard rod.

  Her hands were in her panties. Her hips bucked as she encountered the tang of her own scent. She should be thinking about what to do next, and she knew she shouldn’t be thinking about him like this at all.