The Casanova (The Miles High Club)

by T L Swan

  I smile as I run my finger along the countertop.

  “Does that count for something?” he asks.

  “It does.”

  “After you finish lunch with her, come and see me at work.”

  “Really?” I sigh. God, so much pressure in one day. I’ve been running around all morning looking for the perfect gift. “I’ll just see you tonight.”

  “Kate, it’s my birthday.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

  “Don’t drink too much at lunch,” he reminds me.

  I giggle.

  “I mean it, she hates drunks.”

  “Oh.” He’s serious. “Okay.”

  “And don’t tell her anything about us.”

  I shrug. What could I possibly tell her—I don’t even know what’s going on. “Okay.”

  “And—”

  “Elliot,” I cut him off. “You’re making me more nervous than I already am,” I splutter.

  “Sorry.” He exhales.

  “I’ll see you this afternoon?”

  “Alright. Bye babe.”

  I hang up and rush to the bathroom to check how I look one last time. I’m wearing a black, long-sleeved dress that Daniel made me buy, and nude high heels with a matching clutch. My hair is styled and I have minimal makeup on.

  I’m going for sensible-classy, not sure if I’ve achieved it, but whatever, this is all I’ve got.

  The door buzzer sounds and I run out and push the intercom. “Hello.”

  “Your car is here, Miss Landon,” a male voice replies.

  “I’ll be right down.”

  I stare at my reflection in the mirror and I let out a shaky deep breath, putting my hand over my stomach to try and calm the butterflies. What was I thinking, agreeing to this?

  I make my way down and walk out to find a black limousine parked at the curb, and my nerves hit an all-time high.

  Fuck.

  The doorman opens the back door. “Miss Landon.” He nods.

  “Thank you.”

  I climb in to find Elizabeth sitting in the backseat; she smiles warmly. “Hello Kate.”

  She’s immaculately dressed in designer labels and looks like a beautiful fashion model.

  The look of money oozes out of her and I’m quite sure that Daniel would bow at her feet. Imagine the designers that would swarm around her.

  “Hi.” The door shuts behind me; is it too late to run?

  “I’ve booked us into my favorite restaurant.” She smiles. “I hope you like it.”

  “I’m sure I will.” I clasp my hands in my lap so tightly that I nearly cut off the circulation.

  Fifteen minutes later we pull up outside a swanky-looking restaurant and I follow her in. “Mrs. Miles.” The waiters all smile. “How lovely to see you.”

  “Hello.”

  “Your table is this way.”

  We are shown to our table and the waitress asks, “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “Yes.” Elizabeth smiles. “Would you like some wine, Kathryn?”

  “No, thank you, I don’t drink that often,” I lie. “Just a mineral water for me, please.”

  “Oh.” A trace of a smile crosses her face. “I’ll have the same.”

  Her eyes hold mine and she links her fingers under her chin. “I can see why Elliot is so swept away with you, you’re lovely.”

  I smile bashfully. “Ah . . .”

  Our mineral water arrives and she pours us both a glass. “Has Elliot warned you not to elaborate on anything to me?”

  Oh hell.

  I smile shyly. “Maybe.”

  “He’s a very private person.”

  “Yes.” I nod. “I know.”

  She opens her menu. “I’m afraid that out of all my children, growing up in the spotlight has had the biggest effect on Elliot.”

  I frown as I listen.

  “He guards his privacy with his life and I’m quite sure that some days he despises his surname.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Now, now.” She cuts me off. “There’s no need to make excuses, my dear. I understand where he’s coming from.”

  “Where is he coming from?” I whisper.

  “Elliot is a dreamer,” she continues. “He lives in a world where he is forced to be a realist, but in his heart, he is a romantic.”

  I smile; I already knew this from my interaction with Ed. “Yes, I know.”

  “When he called me last week and told me that he was bringing a plus-one to his birthday dinner, I knew that you must be special to him.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Darling.” She takes my hand over the table. “You’re the first woman he’s ever brought home to us.”

  My face falls as I stare at her. “He’s a very confusing man,” I whisper.

  She gives me a knowing smile. “Hang in there, my dear.” She sips her drink. “Once Elliot commits to a woman, she would be his entire world.”

  I drop my head. I know he told me not to tell her anything, but if there’s one woman who knows him better than anyone, it’s her. “It’s only early days, he doesn’t even want anyone to know that we’re seeing each other.”

  “It has nothing to do with you,” she replies. “Elliot hates press, he hates the invasion of his privacy. When they nicknamed him Casanova Miles he was mortified; he believes that once something becomes the property of the gossip pages, that it’s no longer special, or belongs to him.”

  I frown.

  “He’s watched Jameson go through very public battles with the media and the ramifications it has caused in his private life.”

  I listen intently; this isn’t how I was expecting our conversation to go.

  “He doesn’t want that for himself or his partner. In his own way, he is protecting you.”

  “Who would ever have thought that a media family would hate the press so much?” I say.

  “The irony.” She smiles. “Christopher has filled me in on your and Elliot’s history, you haven’t always liked each other or gotten along?”

  “No.”

  She smiles as she watches me. “Why is that?”

  Fuck.

  I stare at her, lost for words.

  She reminds me what it was like to have a mother figure pry for information: it feels nice. Familiar.

  She takes my hand in hers once more. “I hold honesty in the highest regard, Kate.”

  Shit, that was code for . . . lie to me bitch, and you’re done. Oh hell, I brace myself to tell her the truth. Here goes nothing.

  “I thought he was a self-absorbed, self-righteous womanizer.”

  She chuckles in surprise. “Elliot is all of those things.”

  I smile too.

  “But if you get underneath all that, and not many people get the chance to, he is kind and warm and generous.”

  I well up; she’s completely right. “I know.” I sip my drink. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mrs. Miles,” I whisper. “But I wish Elliot was a plumber.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then we would come from the same world and I wouldn’t have to share him. And he could just be whoever he wanted to be.”

  She puts her hand under her chin as she stares at me.

  Shit . . . I shouldn’t have said that. I crossed the line.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

  “That’s okay, dear,” she cuts me off. “Can I ask you a question, Kate?”

  I nod.

  “What don’t you like about Elliot?”

  “Um.” I pause. Fuck . . . he told me not to go there with her and here I am having a deep and meaningful. I’ve fallen for her trap. You idiot, Kate.

  “Umm . . .” I pause again.

  “Be honest with me. What don’t you like about Elliot?”

  “His arrogance, his money, his temper . . .” I pause as I try to articulate my words. “He’s closed off and cold, reserved, and can be mean—”

  “What do you like about him?” she interrupts.
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  I think for a moment. “His kind heart.”

  Her eyes hold mine and eventually, she smiles softly. “It’s lovely to meet you, Kathryn,” she whispers.

  “I’m so sorry about this morning,” I whisper back. “You can’t imagine how horrified I am that we met that way.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that.” She laughs. “I know what my son is like, I’m not delusional. He’s definitely no angel and his nickname was well earned.”

  She seems happy and I’m not sure, but I think I answered her questions right.

  “I can’t wait for you to meet Emily and Claire tonight.”

  I put my hand over my stomach. “It makes me so nervous.”

  “Don’t be.” She smiles. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  I arrive at the top floor of the Miles Media building and the elevator doors open into a huge swanky space.

  It’s all white and complete luxury, with a floor-to-ceiling glass wall and view over New York.

  “Kathryn?” The receptionist smiles as she stands.

  “Yes.”

  She shakes my hand. “I’m Sammia.” She turns to her colleague. “And this is Lindsey, from HR.”

  “Hello.” I smile as I shake their hands; well, this is awkward. Elliot failed to mention that the female employees here are shit-hot.

  “Elliot is expecting you, his office is the last on the right.”

  “Thank you.” I walk down the long corridor over the white marble and knock on the last door on the right.

  “Come in,” his strong voice calls.

  I open the door tentatively and he raises his chin as if defiant. “Miss Landon,” he snaps. “Do you have that report I’m waiting on?”

  I roll my lips to hide my smile; he’s playing pretend. “Yes sir.”

  “Come in,” he barks.

  I walk in and close the door behind me.

  “Lock the door.” He stands.

  I frown and slowly turn the lock.

  “I’ve worked out what I want for my birthday, Miss Landon,” he says as he walks around his desk. “I’ve been wanting it for about seven years now. The time has come for you to deliver.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat, what’s he talking about?

  He knocks hard, twice, on his desk and my eyes widen.

  Oh no, a hard surface.

  His dark eyes dance with arousal and he pushes everything off his desk.

  “Elliot,” I whisper.

  Then he is on me. He pushes me up against the back of the door and kisses me hard.

  “Elliot.”

  He bites my neck as his hands slide up my dress and down the front of my panties.

  “They’re just outside,” I whisper.

  “I didn’t give you permission to speak, Miss Landon,” he growls in a whisper.

  His fingers circle the lips of my sex, he slides in one finger, and my eyes flutter closed.

  “Elliot,” I whimper as he slides in another.

  His eyes hold mine as he begins to work me hard, thick pumps of his fingers as he pins me against the wall. “Open your fucking legs, Landon,” he hisses.

  His harsh words bring a rush of arousal and he smiles as he bites my ear. “I want it wet, swollen.” He adds another finger and I throw my head back against the wall.

  Oh hell.

  The sound of my wet body sucking him in echoes around his office.

  “What if someone walks in?” I whimper.

  “Then they’ll have to wait their turn.” He grabs a handful of my hair and drags my face to him. “You’re going to bend over my desk. You’re going to open up that pretty little pussy for me.” He jerks me hard, his grip on my hair is almost painful. “And you’re going to take my cock and then get on your knees and drink me down.”

  He grabs my face in his hands. “Do you understand me?” he commands.

  I nod, arousal screaming through my body like never before.

  He drags me to his desk and pushes me over it; he tears my dress up and I hear the zip of his fly. Gone is the sensitive lover I’ve had of late.

  Elliot Miles is here in all his glory.

  Fuck . . . I’ve missed him.

  With one hand gripping a handful of my hair, he slams in hard.

  The burn of his possession stretches me, burns like never before.

  My mouth falls open as I try to deal with him, my face mangled into his desk.

  Up close and personal.

  His hands go to my shoulders as he rides me hard, the sound of our skin-slapping echoing.

  They’ll know.

  He moans, and from the guttural sound he makes, I know he’s close.

  He pulls out and in one movement, pulls me up and pushes me down to my knees, slides his cock down my throat and with his two hands gripping my hair, he comes in a rush.

  I nearly choke; he’s a lot of man to take like this.

  His dark eyes hold mine as he slowly pumps my mouth, completely emptying himself into me.

  His chest rises and falls as he gasps for air, his grip on my hair loosens.

  I lick my lips. “Happy birthday, sir.”

  A trace of a smile crosses his face as he realizes we’re still in role play, and he zips up his trousers. “Stand up, Miss Landon.”

  I stand and he pulls my dress down and straightens it, pulls his fingers through my hair to neaten it.

  I lick my lips again, excited that he called me here to get a blow job at work. “Will that be all, sir?” I whisper.

  His dark eyes hold mine. “For now.”

  He walks around and sits behind his desk, leans back in his chair.

  Arrogance personified.

  “I’ll . . . get back to work, Mr. Miles.”

  He nods as he picks up his pen.

  I pick up my bag and walk toward the door.

  “Miss Landon.”

  I turn back toward him. “Yes sir.”

  “Well done.” He tilts his chin to the sky. “Excellent reporting skills.”

  I smirk. Bastard.

  “I try my best, sir.”

  I leave and walk down the corridor and out into the reception area, and with their boss literally on my tongue, I bid his secretaries goodbye.

  The car pulls up in front of a huge house and I peer out. Elliot squeezes my hand on my lap. “Ready?’

  I fake a smile. “After the day I’ve had today, who knows?”

  “Did I tell you, I love my present,” he whispers as he kisses me.

  “About a million times already.”

  I took a photo of Elliot outside near his lake the other morning. It’s from behind, he’s in a suit, and staring out over his enchanted estate. The ducks are gathered around his feet and the mist is rolling over the hills. It’s a beautiful shot and I had it framed for him.

  What do you get the man who has everything? Now I know.

  Sentiment.

  He loves it because it’s sentimental. It means something to him, just like he means something to me.

  Being here in New York with his family has given me a little more insight into the mercurial man. He’s not just difficult with me, he’s difficult with everyone.

  And I can’t tell you how good that feels to know.

  It’s not me, it was never me, it’s him.

  We park the car and walk up to the front door; Elliot knocks as I hold my breath.

  Tristan opens the door in a rush. “Hello.” He smiles as he looks at us in turn, bends and kisses me on the cheek. “Come in.”

  Elliot takes my hand and we walk into a large living area, a hive of activity.

  “This is Emily,” Tristan introduces me, “Jameson’s wife, and this is their son, James.”

  “Hello.” The little boy looks to be about three. He has dark hair and blue eyes like his father.

  “Hi.” Emily smiles, leans in, and kisses my cheek. “Lovely to meet you.” She’s heavily pregnant. “Our daughter Imogen is around here somewhere.” She smiles. “She’s twenty-three months old.”<
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  “Oh, you have your hands full.”

  “As if dealing with Jim isn’t enough.” Tristan smiles. “And this is my wife, Claire.”

  “Hi.” Claire smiles; she isn’t at all what I expected. Naturally pretty, with dark hair.

  He takes a baby dressed in pink from her. “This is Poppy and we have a two-year-old daughter around here somewhere, her name is Summer.”

  A bunch of kids go running and screaming through the house.

  “That will be her,” he says. “Noisiest tiny human you ever met.”

  I giggle. “Hello.”

  “Boys,” he calls. “Come here please.”

  I look up to see two teenagers and a small boy walking over.

  “These are my sons, Fletcher, Harrison, and Patrick.”

  “Hello.” They all shake my hand politely. “How do you do?”

  “Come out and join the party.” Tristan smiles as he holds his hand out.

  I look into the back living-room area to see everyone chatting and laughing, completely relaxed, and I let out a sigh of relief.

  Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

  If heaven was a week, this would be it.

  I put my head on Elliot’s chest as we ride up to his apartment in the elevator, his strong arm around me, and I feel completely safe and protected.

  We’ve danced and laughed, made love and fucked.

  Spent time with his wonderful family, and to say that Elliot Miles has romanced me around New York is the understatement of the year.

  In a few days we go home to London, and I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t want to.

  I want to stay here, where we have privacy and Elliot has his brothers, and I have their wives, and we don’t have to hide under a cloak of secrecy.

  In London it’s just us, but here . . . there’s family. And I know they aren’t mine, but they’re his, and they’ve made me feel so welcome.

  We arrive up at the apartment and Elliot leads me by the hand through to the kitchen, opens the freezer, and removes a silver ice bucket.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  He pulls out two Cornetto ice creams and hands one over; emotion overwhelms me as I stare at it in his hand.

  “I thought we could toast New York.”

  I stare at him through tears, and I know that if I didn’t already love him before . . .

  I honestly do now.

  I watch as he unwraps mine and he passes it over. I take it and wait for him to unwrap his, then he leads me out onto the balcony and we sit down on the day bed.