You're All I Think About_Second Chance Romance

by Scarlett Avery

  I know these will look smashing on you. If memory serves me correctly, I got the sizes right. I hope you like the shoes. They’re your favorite brands. I know, I know, I went for the skyscrapers, but you wear them so well. Of course the lingerie is purely practical and I have no intentions of imagining your fine ass in them. I’m sorry. That wasn’t very professional of me. I meant to say, I’ll refrain from imagining the silk and lace caressing your soft supple skin.

  Sincerely, Barrett.

  “Bastard!” I shout throwing the envelope and the hand-scripted note on beautiful paper back on the bed. "How dare he?"

  With a determined step, I walk to the other room and grab my phone and dial Barrett’s number. He picks up on the second ring.

  "Hello."

  "Tate Barrett Ascott you’re the most pompous, arrogant, and infuriating man I’ve ever met. And I forgot conceited," I bark.

  "Charlotte, it seems you've just arrived at the hotel," he responds with nonchalant amusement.

  "I have and I’m standing in my suite—”

  "How do you like the room?"

  "It's fine." I'm about to launch into a tirade when I remember my manners. "Thanks for the upgrade. I'm sure the other room was more than adequate, but this is stunning."

  "I also upgraded my room to one of the master suites. You don't have to worry about the record company finding out. I'll cover the difference. The same goes for your room."

  "Thank you. It wasn't necessary."

  "You know how I like spoiling you."

  "Speaking of which." This guy is such a masterful seducer, if I don't veer the conversation back on track, I’ll forget why I called in the first place. "What’s all this?”

  "What's what?"

  "Don’t play dumb with me. It doesn't look good on you," I snap.

  “Charlotte, we’re not on a video call, I have no idea what you're talking about.”

  “Bullshit.”

  "I resent that," he says with a pointed accent.

  "Really? Is this how you’re going to play me?"

  "I already offered to play with you, but you turned me down," he chuckles. "The offer still stands though."

  I roll my eyes into the phone. "Did you decide to take a side job as a personal shopper? Is that it?"

  "Ah. You're talking about the clothing."

  "No, I'm talking about the smoldering heat outside. Of course, I'm talking about the clothing."

  “I was just being helpful."

  "Rubbish. You were being controlling," I retaliate. Okay, I know I'm being a little over the top right now, but he brings that out in me.

  "You can’t keep walking around in that outfit, no matter how sexy it is on you."

  "Says who?"

  "Did you see how those men were looking at you?"

  "And what business is it of yours, Barrett?"

  How in the world did he have time to take notice when his eyes were riveted on me the whole time? When Barrett found me, my eyes weren’t closed because I was tired, I just couldn't stand the suggestive stares.

  “Right.” His tone is clipped.

  “Not to mention, that I told you that the record company gave me an allowance. And I have my own money."

  "I know that, kitten."

  "Don't call me that."

  "I'm sorry, Miss Wentworth.”

  "Don't be a bloody wanker," I snap.

  "Charlotte, I was just looking out for you."

  "Barrett, may I remind you that you gave up that right when you pushed me away," I spit out.

  He lets out a long sigh.

  That's it?

  “What the hell were you—”

  "Charlotte, it's been an excruciatingly long day. And I've been doing it without any sleep in my system. If you want to yell at me, do it in a place where I can at least handle it." His comment throws me off.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve reached my quota. I was heading down to the sauna when you called. Care to join me?" Is he mad? “It’s the one on the twelfth floor. Not the one in the lobby. This one is for Spire Ambassadors only. The whole spa offers an amazing view of the city. It's stunning really.” He says that as if he’s travelocity.com. “Of course, not as spectacular as the one from my suite."

  He can't fool me.

  There's no way I'm going to allow myself to be alone in a room with this man. He's way too dangerous. And when I’m around him, I have way too little self-control. And will-power. And self-restraint.

  “Forget it."

  "Are you sure?" I can hear the amusement in his voice.

  "I’ll talk to you when you’re done.”

  "I'm certain I'll be KO when I'm done.”

  "Then we can drop the subject," I lift my chin up with resolve as if he can see me.

  "Does that mean you're keeping the clothing or should I ask the shops to come and fetch them?"

  "It means I'm not going to the spa with you."

  I'm fully aware that I'm skirting his question.

  He chuckles. He bloody chuckles. “Your loss.”

  "Whatever."

  "Suit yourself. When I'm done, I'll text you the coordinates for tomorrow's meeting. I'm working with a local law firm—”

  "Is that Dialina woman part of that firm?"

  I really want to call her bimbo, slut, whore, but I refrain.

  God, I sound like a silly juvenile teenager.

  Honestly, sometimes I have to wonder if I don't love inflicting myself unnecessary pain. I have no idea why I asked that question. I'm pretty certain I don't want to know the answer.

  “Yes. She’s one of the senior partners at Perraki, Lekkas, Kazakos and Associates."

  "I see."

  "From your tone, I gather you two won’t be best of friends—”

  "You were saying about tomorrow's meeting."

  I interrupt him because I don't want him to know how annoyed I was by how Dialina was buzzing around him like a queen bee ready to mate.

  “We’ll meet at their offices at nine o'clock in the morning."

  "Fine. I'll see you there."

  "All right," he says. There’s a long awkward pause before he speaks again. "Have a good sleep, Charlie."

  "Good night."

  I hang up the phone with Barrett and pin my wrists at my waist, taking in all the shopping bags.

  “Bloody hell,” I exhale.

  I just stand there and stare at the bags for what seems like an eternity. The more I stare at them, the more I itch to find out what’s inside them.

  "Don't do it," I scold myself.

  When I spot the bar, I decide I need another drink. It’s best to keep my hands occupied. I step forward, but for some reason my feet decide to take another trajectory and before I know it I'm back in the bedroom.

  "I should at least take a peek at what I'll be returning. After all, the man has impeccable taste."

  My determination not to get involved with this man—or anything he has to offer—doesn’t stop me. Now that I’ve justified my curiosity, I dive in. It’s as though my fingers move of their own volition, pulling open bag, after bag, after bag.

  I let out a series of gasps, oohs and ahhs with every new discovery.

  I even clap with excitement when my eyes land on a flirty red-orange dress by up and coming designer Gian Marco Biatello. I tried to buy this dress in London, but it was not only sold, the wait list was ridiculous.

  The accessories are irreproachable. The clothing makes me salivate. Ditto for the shoes.

  My God he knows me well.

  Purposefully, I leave the three Aerakis Luxury Lingerie bags for last. When I peek inside the first one that catches my attention, I notice that it contains a fairly large black box. Carefully, I pull it out, place it on the bed and remove its lid. Holding my breath, I push aside the mounds of crisp white tissue paper.

  Another note?

  Instead of reading it, I decide to check out what’s hiding inside the box.

  Oh, nice.

&n
bsp; I lift a soft delicate black silk bra and marvel at the two strands of white pearls on each side of the bust that ties behind the neck. The tag reads, ‘Made With Spanish Majorcan Pearls’.

  Wow! That’s super sexy.

  I mean it would be sexy if I considered keeping it, which I absolutely won’t.

  I move on to the other item in the box. When I lift it, I gasp.

  “What the fuck?”

  Panties. I should say, X-rated panties. They’re also black, but a single string of pearls replaces the crotch.

  “He can’t be serious.” I let out an indignant snort. “This guy has some nerve.”

  I drop the sexy knickers back in the box, grab the envelope and pull out the note. I expect it to be along the same lines as the other one. Boy, was I ever wrong.

  Kitten,

  Shoot me a quick text when you wear these. I may not see them on you, but guess what I’ll be thinking of when I’m__ I'll let you fill in the blank. Apparently, the pearls are meant to stimulate your tight little clit. Obviously, my tongue would do a far, far better job. FYI, I was just using that as a reference to bring fourth my point. Clearly, my mouth on your pussy isn’t part of the agenda. Still, I hope you enjoy wearing these.

  Sincerely, Barrett.

  I nearly combust after reading that.

  Sweat trickles down my back and suddenly, I feel like I’m inside a volcano right before it erupts. Jesus. It takes me a few seconds to find my composure, but when I do, my blood starts boiling.

  “Fuck him.”

  Now I’m bloody furious.

  “How dare he?” I shout. “Oh, someone is about to lose their balls.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Barrett

  Charlotte is seriously uptight.

  I get off the lift and I’m still thinking about that confusing conversation we just had. I don't know what the big deal is. She arrived in Athens without any clothing. I bought her everything she needs. I already know all her sizes and I know exactly what she likes. What's the big deal?

  Hopefully, those naughty panties will soften the edge. She can thank me later.

  I'm just about to reach the spa, when the doors leading to the stairs fly open and slam against the wall right before a disheveled blonde bursts onto the scene.

  "What the hell?"

  Charlotte spots me and her hazel eyes widen. The way she purses her lips as she hurries towards me is testament to her sheer determination.

  "Barrett," she lets out in a labored breath. She's heaving and she places a hand against her chest in what I suspect is an attempt to lower her heartrate.

  "What's going on?" I ask.

  She lifts a finger at me. "I just ran up three flights of stairs as if my ass was on fire," she explains.

  "Why? Are the lifts broken? They were working fine a second ago—"

  "Because I didn't want to miss you and I didn't want to wait around for the bloody lift."

  "And you ran up here barefooted?" I ask my eyes dropping to her beautiful feet.

  Her toes are painted in the same deep red shade as the rubies on the bracelet I gave her. I won't lie, seeing my gift around her wrist pumps me with pride. She might not officially be mine anymore, but I'm still on her mind.

  "I couldn't take it anymore. The bloody sandals were hurting my feet," she quips.

  She’s well over six feet when she wears her trademark skyscraper heels—still shorter than me. Although she's five-nine, barefooted, she seems so short. So vulnerable.

  "Ah. Perhaps I should've also bought you a few pairs of flat shoes. I can certainly rectify my mistake,” I say.

  "This is exactly why I came running up here—”

  "Hold that thought," I say lifting my index finger.

  "What?" she asks.

  "I feel the onset of another tirade—”

  "Barrett, you’re just a—”

  "Charlotte, I'm headed inside. If you want to continue this conversation, you have two options. One, you come in with me. Two, we can pick this up at another time. The choice is yours."

  She narrows her eyes at me. When she's infuriated like this, they flash the most seductive blue-green hue. They’re also this magnificent first thing in a morning. And when she's been well fucked.

  The seconds tick away and she just stares at me.

  Another standoff.

  "I'm not dressed for the occasion," she finally says, looking at my sport shorts and my t-shirt.

  "It's a sauna, the only way you could be dressed for the occasion is by wrapping a towel around your body," I tell her.

  "Is it co-ed?"

  Someone is interested.

  "They have several private rooms. I reserved one. You're more than welcome to join me," I repeat my initial offer. I can see the wheels churning in her head. She’s processing. Deciding if she should trust me or not. I haven't made my mark as one of the best litigation lawyers in London without being able to successfully argue a case. "You deserve this, Charlotte. Think of how many hours you spent in that grubby precinct. That wooden bench you were sitting on didn't look very comfortable. Think of how sore you'll feel in the morning. That's no way to kick off this business trip."

  "I guess… maybe, um, maybe a few minutes won’t hurt," she says before folding her lower lip between her teeth.

  That's the spirit!

  I take a step closer to her, careful to leave enough space between us so she doesn't feel my arousal. I expect her to take a step back, but she doesn't. Instead she tilts her head up and looks at me with almost pleading eyes. I won’t lie. Witnessing her pupils widen in surprise sends a rush to my balls. Damn.

  "This R&R time will do you good," I cajole. Yeah, I’m devious like that. "You can share everything that’s on your mind and since we’ll be trapped in a small room, I'll be forced to listen because there's nowhere for me to go," I smile. “So, I’ll see you inside?”

  "Okay, but just so we can talk."

  "Of course, kitten."

  She narrows her eyes. "Barrett," she warns.

  "I'm sorry, Charlotte. Old habits die hard."

  Turning, I take a step toward the sauna, trying to stop the wry grin that’s already threatening my lips.

  After all these years, I can still unravel her without touching her.

  CHAPTER 8

  Charlie

  I flew out of my hotel room like a bat out of hell, ready to rip through Barrett like a tornado for his effrontery. I was supposed to barrage the bastard, not accept his invitation for an afternoon at the spa. How in the world did I get myself in this position? Again? That man can have you agreeing to just about anything—even selling your soul. That said, a few minutes in the sauna would do me wonders. There's nothing wrong with killing two birds with one stone – as long as I keep focused.

  Mission ‘prevent Barrett Ascott from fucking with your head’ is a go!

  All weapons loaded!

  Fire!

  Armed with this newfound resolve to keep the conversation on track, I speak up. "Barrett—”

  “Did you soak in the magnificent view?” he interrupts, pointing to the large window to the left. "There's nothing quite like it."

  “I’m not here for the bloody view,” I quip.

  My determination to forge ahead with this conversation doesn’t prevent me from catching a glimpse of the breathtaking skyline.

  “Suit yourself. You’re missing out,” he shrugs.

  Do not let the canny lawyer trick you.

  “Barrett, we need ground rules." To make sure he knows I mean business, I pin my fists to my waist and purse my lips.

  He lifts a curious eyebrow. "I'm usually the one to make the rules, Charlotte. Have you forgotten that?" There's a distinct warning in his voice. One I've heard too many times. One I still crave to hear. When he lets the dominant in him out to play, I can rarely resist him.

  "I'm not talking about those type of rules and you know it," I snap back.

  "Pity." He flashes me that dazzling smile and I’m completely blind
ed. “I think it would make for a much more interesting conversation.” I swallow hard.

  With that, he continues to stroll towards the spa. Like the gentleman that he is, he holds the door open and allows me to step inside first. Even when we’re having an argument, Barrett would never compromise on manners.

  "Thank you," I say with a small smile before taking a long step forward.

  "Are we friends now?" His question is laced with impudence and is meant to tick me off.

  My head snaps back so fast I almost give myself whiplash. "Barrett, you can be unbearable at times."

  “Call it an occupational hazard,” he says.

  "Argh,” I grunt frustrated.

  "You're so tense. Well, I'm going in," he says before giving me the chance to respond.

  Unwilling to let him get away from me, I follow him like a police dog. Barrett stops in his tracks, forcing me to do the same thing. I come this close to crashing right into his muscular back. And his firm ass.

  "Charlotte, you can't follow me here. This is the men’s change room. The women's is right across," he says pointing over my head.

  "Oh, yeah." For someone who had a lot to say, that's all I'm able to muster.

  "Why don't you go change and meet me in room number twelve. They have lockers inside, so you don't have to worry about your belongings. I'll see you in there," he says before turning on his heel.

  I stand at the entrance of the spa feeling like a complete idiot. For a quick second, I consider bolting out of there and running back to my room, but if I don't put my foot down, Barrett will wear me down, and inevitably, he’ll have his way with me. This can't happen again.

  Filled with apprehension, I make my way to the change room. A few minutes later, I walk out wrapped in a white towel heading towards the sauna Barrett reserved. When I swing open the door, he's already sitting there looking like a god that jumped out of the pages of a Greek mythology book.

  I really don't know why it's only now that it hits me that he’d be clad with nothing more than a white towel around his waist. My eyes run down the length of his naked chest and back up again. Damn. When I meet his gaze, his cocky side grin unmistakably lets me know that he caught me drooling all over his perfectly chiseled chest. Even though he left the Navy years ago, Barrett still works out every day like he’s going to battle. Of course, the results are stunning.