by Nikki Sloane
His attention turned back to me. The concern evaporated and was replaced with a slow, burning heat, and I shivered.
“No, little girl.” His lips grazed mine. “Because once again, you want it, and that defeats the purpose. But if you’re good, maybe I’ll reward you later. And you’re wrong. I’m interested in Noemi Rosso.”
My friends said I was crazy, but also that they were jealous of me. Joseph and I had been together only a little more than a month, and here I was, sitting beside him on a plane bound for paradise, where I’d also meet his family. Seven days with him non-stop, under his command. I was excited beyond belief.
“What are you reading?” Joseph asked when I’d fired up my iPad, waiting for the plane to takeoff. He glanced at the screen and raised an eyebrow. “You’re reading the Erwin biography? Is that for a class?”
He’d probably expected some sort of beach read, a break from the dry textbooks I read day-in and day-out. I gave a sheepish smile. “No, I wanted to.” Michael Erwin was a tech giant who’d taken his start-up public, and continued to run his business successfully while using unorthodox methods. I’d always loved the well-written biographies. “Hey, it’s fascinating. Don’t judge me.”
“Noemi, I told you I wouldn’t do that.” He unsnapped the cover of his iPad and tilted the screen my direction.
“You’re reading it, too.” I laughed.
After dinner, we’d both finished the book and the sun had set, leaving the cabin dark. I leaned over in my spacious seat, and curled up beside him, launching into a book discussion that lasted another hour. Who’d have thought my bad boy had such a head for finance?
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you go to college?” I asked. “You run circles around the people in my classes.”
He exhaled slowly. “Well, first off, I’m a lot older than them. I bought my first business when I was your age. And second,” he hesitated, “I had cancer. My grades were okay before that, but it was hard to care about the future when I didn’t think I’d have one.”
I’d been tracing patterns on his knee with my hand, but his words made me pause. My heart hurt. So much of his life had been derailed.
“And third, even if I’d gotten accepted somewhere, we couldn’t afford it. My mom couldn’t keep her job with all of the doctors’ appointments, and I was in and out of the hospital.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m doing just fine.”
I glanced at his half-empty glass of wine that rested on the tray table of his first class seat. Yes, he was doing all right. I needed something to change subjects. We hadn’t talked about his cancer since the anniversary a few weeks ago.
“If you slam that wine,” I asked, “could you get drunk enough to tell me the story of how Payton and Dominic met?”
He snatched up the glass and drank a sip, his gaze unfocused as if contemplating. “Payton used to be an escort.”
“An escort?” Was this a fancy wine bar term, because the only escort job I knew of was a nice way of saying—
“She was a prostitute. Dominic was her client.”
I couldn’t reconcile the woman with the concept. Payton was intelligent, beautiful, and confident. The stereotype I had of prostitutes were skinny, sickly drug addicts that stood on street corners wearing cheap clothes and desperation on their faces. Not perfect bodies, high-end clothes, and college educations. She was a hooker?
“I don’t understand.” I was horrified for her. What had happened in her past that forced her into selling sex for money?
Joseph’s gaze watched me like he was studying my reaction intently, and it made me uncomfortable. Was this some sort of test? She was his friend. A good friend, and possibly an ex, so I had to tread lightly. I wouldn’t want to talk badly about her, and I liked Payton.
“What don’t you understand?” he asked softly. “Why she would do that?”
“Yes.” How was that not apparent?
“She likes sex. Why not get paid to do what she likes?”
Was he serious? “Joseph, sleeping with strangers for money is illegal, not to mention, disgusting and dangerous.”
The muscles along his jaw flexed as if he were clenching his teeth. “So if she hadn’t charged them, then it would be all right?”
“No, of course not.”
Warmth faded from his eyes. “Why?”
A warning light blinked in my brain, sensing murky waters ahead. “Because it’s like profanity. If you use it all the time, it loses its meaning.”
“That’s your opinion. Maybe it’s just fucking to her, and there doesn’t have to be meaning. It’s a business about pleasure, not emotion.”
Is that what this was between us? Just fucking? “But a girl should have standards.”
“You mean, she shouldn’t be a slut. She shouldn’t give it up to just anyone.”
The warning light graduated to a siren, but I ignored it. “Yes.”
“Even if she wants to?” Joseph’s voice was shockingly harsh. “What if she’d been a good girl up until then? Does that mean she’s not a slut if she lets a guy she barely knows fuck her on a table in his restaurant?”
The breath of air I gasped was so sharp it was painful, and I cringed.
“No,” he continued. He set down his glass and his hands clamped on my shoulders, straightening them. “I won’t allow this posture. You want to judge other people, you should be able to take it, too.”
I stared at him at a total loss for words.
“Yeah, society has taught you that she’s a slut, but she was careful, and safe, and doing what she enjoyed. She’s no different from me, really. And you said you wouldn’t judge.”
My mind fractured. Years of indoctrination had taught me that promiscuous women were sluts and going to hell. Deep down, there was shame inexplicably linked to sexual pleasure. Yet, despite all the years of Catholic school, I thought myself a feminist. Women could do anything men could, including running Fortune 100 companies. So why couldn’t Payton enjoy sex with whomever or how many people she wanted, just like men did?
“I . . . didn’t mean to judge.” My voice faltered.
Joseph took another sip of his wine and said nothing. Tension radiated off of him.
My fingers toyed with the loose end of the seatbelt as I tried to ease the awkwardness. “So Dominic paid for a night with her?”
“She refused his money afterward.”
“Why?”
“I’m told he was the first man to get through to her, and she wanted something . . . real.”
Real. Their matching tattoos.
“He took her back to Tokyo and that was that.”
Cold dread slinked into my chest and I fought to keep my expression free from judgement. “How did you meet her? Were you one of her—”
“No. We met at a bar.”
Perhaps he was being purposefully vague, punishing me. “Was she ever your sub?”
He sort of laughed. “Did she seem overly submissive to you?”
No. She’d submitted to Dominic, but not like I did with Joseph. I let out a sigh of relief. “So you haven’t slept with her.”
“I didn’t say that.”
It was before you, I reminded myself, trying to stave off the sting.
“It was a long time ago, Noemi. It was just sex, nobody had any feeling involved. We’ve both moved on to . . . ” his gaze swept down my body and came back up, “better things.”
My emotions had been through the wringer, and yet this was a compliment. Payton was provocative and sexually confident, not to mention, gorgeous. He thought I was better than that?
By the time we landed, Joseph’s stiffness had drained away, and we both grinned at each other when we deplaned out into the warm, humid night air, peeling off our layered travel clothes.
“I’m not going back to Chicago until June,” I said.
We made our way through the Honolulu airport, which was a collection of buildings with covered walkways connecting them, and fo
llowed the stream of people to the baggage area.
For the first time, I heard panic in Joseph’s voice. “Shit, I didn’t adequately prepare you for this.”
“JR?” A deep male voice said. “Over here.”
Conner was the photograph aged twenty years. The cute teenager was now a distinguished man, built like a rock but with the same kind eyes as Joseph.
Had I heard him right? “JR?”
Joseph seemed to grit his teeth. “My father is Joseph Michael. I’m Joseph Robert.” His hand pressed in the small of my back and eased me forward. “Hey,” he said to his older brother.
They embraced in a quick hug and then Conner’s gaze turned my direction. “You finally take my advice and get an assistant?”
“No,” Joseph answered quickly. “This is Noemi. My girlfriend.”
Conner’s shoulders straightened with surprise. A huge smile burst on his face. “Girlfriend? Mom is going to lose her shit over this.”
Joseph hadn’t told anyone who I was, or that I was coming? The sting of disappointment was acute, but his arm was around my shoulders. “It’ll make sense once we get there.”
After I’d properly met Conner and our bags arrived, the Monsato men loaded them into Conner’s Jeep, and we took off for the rental house we’d share for the next few days with his parents who’d come in from Florida.
We chatted during the drive through the city, talking loudly over the wind whipping in through the open windows. Warm, ocean air and palm trees overhead made me want to revise my earlier statement. Maybe I’d never go back to Chicago.
The house was gorgeous. Pink and yellow hibiscus bushes bloomed in the landscaped yard, and the Jeep pulled up to the circle drive, covered by a stone portico. It was after midnight Central time, but only eight here, and although I was tired from the flight, I couldn’t wait to get into shorts and flip-flops, and start my vacation.
His parents were seated on the leather couches in the main room, drinking wine when we came in. They looked relaxed and at home, but when she spotted Joseph, his mother leaped to her feet, her soft face ecstatic.
“You’re here!” She hurried to him and crushed him in her arms, her eyes shining with tears. “We’re so glad you came.”
“Yeah,” Joseph’s voice was uneven, as if his mother’s emotions were getting to him. “Uh, me, too.” He gave her a long moment, extracted himself from her embrace, and reached a hand out to me. “This is my girlfriend Noemi.”
His mother didn’t move a breath. Her eyes didn’t blink. Was she having a stroke?
“Girlfriend?” she whispered.
“That’s what I said.”
Her focus snapped to me, and I felt naked. Her gaze raked down as if seeking every fault and flaw. “My goodness, you’re young!”
“Mom.”
She waved Joseph’s scolding off, and extended a hand to me, giving me a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m Carol Monsato.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Monsato. Noemi Rosso.”
Her voice was almost as firm as her handshake. “It’s Carol.” Her tone was exactly the same whenever Joseph had to repeat something he felt he shouldn’t have had to. I pulled my lips back in a pleasant smile that said I understood, and I did. She’d almost lost her son once, so it made sense she would be protective of him.
Joseph’s father had a head of salt and pepper hair and a bit of a beer belly, and introduced himself as Joe. He put a hand around his wife’s waist. “I know your mother already said it, but we were really happy you decided to join us for Conner’s award.”
“You have Noemi to thank for that. She convinced me.”
This time the smile did reach all the way to Carol’s eyes. “Well,” she said, “let me show you the house.” She gestured to the couch. “I think the sofa pulls out into a bed, JR. We would have booked a house with three bedrooms if we’d known Noemi was coming.”
“No need. We’ll stay in the same room, Mom.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re not married. That’s not proper. What would her parents think if I let you sleep in the same bed?”
My father would be pissed, but probably because he had no idea where I was. I’d told him I was going to Mexico with some friends for spring break. The first big lie I’d told, and although I felt awful about it, the darkest part of me reveled in being bad.
Joseph’s hand tightened around my shoulders. “Do you think putting us in separate rooms will keep us from having sex?”
His mother and I gasped collectively, and I turned to look up at him wide-eyed. Did he really just say that?
“I’m thirty-eight years old,” he added.
His mother fought for control. “But you’re under my roof.”
“Am I?” he said, looking around. “The deposit on my credit card says otherwise.”
Holy shit. He’d paid for the house, too? His mother’s face flushed red, and I jabbed an elbow into his stomach. “It’s fine, I can sleep on the couch.”
His expression darkened. “Forget it.”
“If you keep being rude to your family, I’m going to prefer it.”
His mouth dropped open. Was he expecting me to be a pushover about this? How a man treated his family said a lot about him. Joseph’s mouth snapped shut and his expression set.
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely to his mother, “let’s try this again. I didn’t tell you I was bringing Noemi because I knew this was going to be an issue. Between my work and her class schedule, we don’t get to see each other as much as I’d like, so we’re going to stay in the same room. If you’re uncomfortable, we can find a hotel.”
Carol’s hands rested on her hips and her eyes narrowed. “Dammit, you’re so stubborn.”
“Yeah, don’t know where I got that from.” He accused her with a look.
She threw up her hand, a gesture of giving in. “I’m not happy about this.”
“I get that.” Hopefully I was the only one who saw the flash of victory in his eyes.
We dragged our luggage to the end of the hall where an enormous bedroom waited, decorated with stone colors and a Zen-theme. The door clicked shut as Joseph closed it, and I turned to face him, irritated.
“You’re right,” I said. “You didn’t adequately prepare me. Or them.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I . . .” he scratched the back of his neck, “don’t really know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Introduce someone to my family.”
He hadn’t done it before? “For starters, maybe don’t tell your mom we’ve had sex.”
“She’s not an idiot, Noemi.”
I turned and unzipped my suitcase, rifling through the clothes for my flip-flops. “I didn’t say she was. You’re just not supposed to talk about sex with your parents. Let them live in the fantasy-world, if they want to, that you’re waiting for marriage. Don’t give them proof that you haven’t.”
“Stop,” he commanded. I hadn’t heard him approach, but suddenly arms were around me, pulling me back up against his hard chest. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about the situation I put you in.” His lips trailed open-mouthed kisses along my neck. “All I can think about is waking up next to you tomorrow morning.”
We still hadn’t truly done that, since he worked too much and I had several projects due before break. The idea made my knees soften and my eyes flutter shut. God, his effect was like a rip-tide. Too strong to fight, better to give in.
“So the question is,” his voice filled my ear, “will that be on the couch, or here? Because that’s going to fucking happen. I stay wherever you stay.”
A button was unsnapped and my zipper tugged down. His hand slipped inside the front of my jeans, rubbing me through the cotton of my panties. Heat flowed through me, pooling between my legs.
“Where are we staying, Noemi?”
“Here,” I said on a hurried breath.
“Good.” Fingertips grazed my clit and then were gone. I angled my shoulders to lo
ok up at him, stunned that he’d stopped. Joseph wore an evil, sexy smile. “Did you need something, little girl?”
“I liked what you were doing, Sir.”
A noise of satisfaction rolled out of him. “Me too, but my parents are waiting for us to have dinner, and I know you want me to stop being rude.”
He’d turned me on in a heartbeat, and I could see the pleasure he took in leaving me unfulfilled. “You suck.”
He smirked. “Think carefully about what you say next. I can give you orgasms, baby girl, which means I can also withhold them.”
I kept my mouth shut, and later that night, he didn’t have to.
chapter
TWENTY-SIX
JOSEPH
It was hot in the large airplane hangar, and they had the doors wide open. We sat in the uncomfortable metal folding chairs that had been set up for the ceremony and faced the plane my brother flew on training exercises.
It wasn’t a huge event, maybe one hundred and fifty people in all. The pilots in Conner’s squadron and their extended families, plus a few commanders and captains who had come in for the ceremony. I watched my brother in his spotless dress-white uniform accept the plaque and smile while he shook hands and posed for photographs. Something swelled in me at this. I was insanely proud of him, and as soon as I got a moment to tell him, I would.
We mingled with the lieutenants and ate the catered lunch at white linen covered tables as jets took off from a nearby airstrip. At one point, I curled my hand around Noemi’s. I’d never been much of a hand holding guy, but there were far too many men wearing what my brother called the “panty-dropping suit” at the event. They gazed at Noemi like she was the most beautiful thing they’d seen.
Not that I could blame them, but she was mine.
We’d taken a family picture beside the airplane, only to have my mother call Noemi into the next shot. She’d been a huge hit with the folks, beating my father at pinochle and cooking dinner with my mother. Mom was notoriously hard on the women my brother brought home, and yet she let Noemi help. If anything, she seemed grateful.
It was insanity being with Noemi. Insanity I enjoyed, like the out of control feeling when she smiled at me, or her desperate pleas for more, late at night when I was inside her.
