by Bex Dane
"Well, good. Adios, Primitivo." Her fake diva voice sounded forced, a hint of pain in her tone. The first time she'd spoken in Spanish to me. Couldn't blame her. The sun hadn't risen since we'd fucked, and I was making my escape.
"I got shit to do."
She turned her back on me and pulled the sheet up over her shoulders. "Then go do whatever you have to do. I'm not stopping you."
I downed the last of the whiskey and looked around for my stuff. Needed to pack up and get the hell out of here.
"You live in the past, Falcon."
She spoke the truth. I lived in the past. Fighting a decades old war. A war I couldn't win because even if I killed my father, someone else would rise up. Just like Afghanistan. Just like Syria. Same shit. Different day.
I left my glass on the table and stomped around the room in search of my clothes.
As I slipped on my pants, her voice hit my ears. "I could make arrangements with Thorne."
I froze and looked at her, my pants half buttoned. "What kind of arrangements?"
She turned around and looked at me. The sun had risen enough that I could see her face. "He would have another suite in the hotel. He would allow me to take a lover if I wanted."
Was she offering herself to me? "And do you want to?"
"Yes," she answered matter of factly.
Oh yeah. She was putting herself on the auction block. "You want more of my titanium cock?"
She laughed. "Yes."
I finished with my pants and sat down in the chair again. She wanted more. I never fucked available girls more than once. But she was technically married.
"You're basically available," I said.
"That's true in a way. I can't marry someone else unless I divorce him, which neither one of us plans to do."
"You could fall for me."
"But I won't."
"How do you know?"
"Clearly we aren't meant to be a couple. I live up here with my fake husband. You live down there, playing Don Quixote with your father."
Huh. Don Quixote. She knew me better than I knew myself.
"I'm starting rehearsals for my first Broadway musical. I do not have time to start a relationship with my hot bodyguard or explain to the press that said bodyguard has a titanium dick and I'm banging him behind my husband's back."
She sounded sincere. Twice before I'd attempted a no-strings sex arrangement and twice the girls could not keep their emotions in check. That was all before Eden.
"Rogan's first wife got attached."
She sat up in the bed, her eyes wide with shock that I was sharing stuff about my closest friend.
"Not in a good way. In the worst way. Even though he married her and loved her, she still couldn't let him go." I hadn't talked about it in years. Images of her funeral still haunted my dreams. "She died. She couldn't let go and she died. So you see why you can't get attached?"
"Because I'll die?"
I had to laugh through the grief. "You have zero control over your emotions. Your life is a stage."
"I resent that. I assure you I am in total control of all my actions."
"Right."
"Give me the access to the piercings. I'll enjoy them without attaching emotion to it. Acting only on the real stage. Not in my bedroom. Or your bedroom. Or wherever we end up."
She manipulated people. She'd find a way to get around it. "Don't put any of your baggage about your mom or your career on me."
Her head reared back. "I have made a concerted effort to avoid discussing my baggage. You have relentlessly teased me and forced me to talk about it. Stop interrogating me if you don't want to hear the answers."
Ha. I liked her spirit. Strong. Sexy. She was offering herself to me. More sex. No relationship. No emotion. "You make arrangements, I'll fuck you on your hands and knees. Tie you up. Take the crop to your ass. Listen to you moan all day, all night."
Her eyes filled with heat. "Um, well… I'd like that too. Are there any um... limitations with those things in your cock?"
"Limitations?"
"Can you take a blowjob?"
"Hell yes."
She nodded and smiled triumphantly. Like she'd won. "I'll make arrangements with Thorne."
"Deal." Wait. I needed an out. "Temporary. Until you're safe. After that, I return to charging windmills."
She giggled. "Okay. Now come back to bed. I'm cold. You're a nice blanket."
Those kinds of orders from her I could follow.
I stripped off my pants and climbed behind her, wrapping an arm under her breasts and tugging her up against my groin. "We're starting right now." Her breath hitched and her legs squeezed together.
Then I fucked her on her hands and knees. Made her ass red with the crop.
She moaned.
And I had a fucking arrangement with Aida Soltari.
***
I wore her out. She took it like a boss and passed out. Gave me a chance to check her room.
Colorful picture frames had been carefully placed on a shelf outside the bathroom. One picture showed her with Gaspar and Soledad outside a theatre hall. The snow fell around them as they huddled together in their wool coats. Aida wore her headpiece from her Aida costume and smiled as she embraced her friends. Gaspar's arm behind her back supported her waist. His other arm wrapped around Soledad's shoulders. They looked like a happy family. A fake family, but still enjoying their time together.
Two more framed pictures of her with Soledad. Another with her and Thorne. With the wind blowing her hair, his hands held her face as he kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes and accepted the kiss like a present. Sweet. Like a brother would kiss a sister's head. Not like a husband would kiss a wife he loved.
She had adopted friends and family who cared about her. She'd done what I told her. Sing, laugh, enjoy her second chance. She did it. She let the past go and made a life for herself like Soledad had done. Good for her.
I thumbed through her closet. She had the color cacophony she always wore slapped together in a messy rainbow. Aida celebrated color and wasn't afraid to own it.
My closet had a nice selection of weapons organized by caliber and ideal shooting distance. The clothes in my dresser had three colors, black, denim, and camo.
In the corner of the closet, tucked behind a rack of clothes, I found a gold box with turquoise and yellow paint. Looked like an antique from ancient Egypt. Inside she had stashed a plastic baggie. The paper towel inside it crinkled at my touch. Oh shit. Drugs? Was she being targeted by a dealer?
Inside the bag, little plastic wrappers. Lavender and magenta balls. Godiva chocolate truffles. Well shit. Aida hid her sweet tooth. From who? Thorne wouldn't like her eating chocolates? She needed to put that crap out in some expensive bowl and let it sit right on her coffee table. If she liked chocolates, she should eat them.
Either way, glad they weren't drugs.
In her underwear drawer, I found her vibrators. Holy fuck. She owned a rainbow of vibes. Bunny ears, pocket rocket, wands, and dicks of all colors. She wouldn't be needing these during our arrangement.
Everything else looked clean. This case was looking more and more like a fan stalking her, but we hadn't found anything unusual online. She hadn't received any threats. The attacks were too organized to be pulled off by one person.
I made my way back to the bedroom and watched the sun touch her cheek. Who the hell was blowing up her concerts and executing women at her hotels?
I sat next to her on the bed and stared at my feet.
Not sure what led me to look there. Maybe instinct or the experience of having sat on evidence many times throughout the years.
I curled down and scanned under the bed.
Bingo.
A laptop case.
I'd wait till her dinner date with Thorne tonight then send Diesel and Blaze to retrieve it.
Chapter 14
Aida
Thank God for Thorne. The man was a saint. He flew into New York two nights ago, and we'd talk
ed about making arrangements for Falcon and me to have a secret rendezvous without letting on to the public.
Thorne loved me. Thorne would do anything for me. Even marry me to save my reputation. So when I asked him if we could sleep in separate suites from now on, he jumped at it.
"Of course, darling. I'm so proud of you. He's big and scary, and you didn't let him intimidate you. Was the sex mind-blowing?"
"Absolutely mind-exploding."
"Fabulous." He leaned in to whisper even though we were alone in my hotel suite. "I heard he has body jewelry."
Talking out loud about what happened felt odd. Especially with Thorne, who had been my lone male companion for the past two years. "Where'd you hear that?"
He held his hand out in front of him and inspected it. Flakes of white skin hung from his cuticles. He had chewed the nails down to red nubs. When he saw me looking at them, he hid his hands in his lap. "Dancers talk. A man like him shows up in tights, everyone is going to take notice of what he's packing. Word is he didn't wear a dance belt, and piercings could be seen poking out the fabric."
My cheeks felt hot, and my legs squeezed together remembering the first time I saw Falcon in those tights. All the male dancers wore a dance belt to smooth out the details and create an unassuming, if not exaggerated, bulge. Falcon walked out and provided Leticia, Babette, and me with an unexpected lesson on male anatomy.
Thorne leveled his pretty green eyes on me. "I want this for you."
I shook my head and looked away. "It's not anything. Just sex."
"Whatever it is. I want it for you. I'm sure you're worried like hell you'll get your heart broken again, but we have to take risks. We can't hide behind each other all the time." He frowned and a deep sadness filled his eyes.
"Are we talking about me or you?" I asked him.
He pressed his lips together before he answered. "Both of us. We're both hiding."
"And when we hide, it doesn't stop the pain, does it?" I reached out and took his hand in mine, rough edges and all.
"No, sweetheart. It doesn't. The pain is still there cutting like a knife." He tried to pull his hands away, but I held tight.
"Any news from Alfonso?" I asked him.
He'd been seeing a new guy in Orlando who had ghosted on him.
"No."
We hugged and I whispered in his ear, "We'll get through this together. I love you."
"I love you too, Aida."
***
Last night, Thorne stayed in a separate suite while Falcon and I spent the night exploring all the ways his titanium cock could please me. He encouraged me to climb on top of his tremendous body and ride him as I brought myself to orgasm with my hand. He tied my hands to the bed, and we played with the crop again. My soul finally felt free to be the sexual person I was meant to be. No worries about performance or if he was using me to get ahead in his career. We were just two people who really enjoyed each other's bodies. And he told me so in colorful ways.
Tonight I had to focus and prepare for the Latina Choice Awards.
I had won my first nomination for my pop ballad "Ya Te Olvidé." Nervous did not begin to describe the butterflies in my stomach.
Leticia came to the hotel to do my makeup. "Where's Falcon man?"
"He's spending his day attempting to turn the Jacoby Theatre into a fortress."
She laughed. "Good luck with that. I'm glad he's still watching out for you."
"He is."
"How shall we do your makeup tonight? Sultry and smokey or clean and fresh?"
"Let me show you my gown and you decide." I'd picked a daring couture Juan Ronaldo design for the evening. As I removed it from the dress bag, my stomach flipped. What the heck was I thinking picking a sheer black dress with strategic rainbow beading that only covered my private parts?
Juan had contacted me and convinced me the dress would get attention. I was hesitant at the fittings and kept asking him to add more of the gems. He'd agreed to an extent, but refused to let me cover up his design. It really was a work of art.
"Oh girl. That dress is going to make an impact! Definitely sultry and smokey. Sit down. Sit down."
I placed the gown on the bed and sat in a chair by a mirror when a knock sounded at the door. Thorne hobbled past Blaze, who was on duty guarding the hallway. "Darling, I am feeling quite green around the gills." His skin looked paler than normal as he clutched his stomach.
"Oh no. What's wrong?" I walked up to him and supported him by the elbow.
"I don't know. Food poisoning? Malaria? Whatever it is I can't go to the awards with you."
"I'll be so lonely without you."
"I'm so sorry. I will make it up to you. I have an ideal replacement."
"Who?"
"Falcon." He waggled his eyebrows at me.
Oh gosh. "No. Don't go there, Thorne."
"You said he's being paranoid about tonight. He can't get closer to you than by your side on the red carpet and at your table for the ceremony. Shoot, if you win, take him up on stage with you."
"No! Are you crazy?" That would feel too much like a date, and I was under orders not to get attached to Falcon. We had to keep it restricted to the bedroom. "I'll go alone. Not unusual for me."
"Too late. I've already talked to him and he agreed. He'll pick you up at five. And he'll be wearing a tuxedo." He bit his finger. "Can you imagine him in a tux?"
I could and I wanted to bite my finger too.
"Ooh, child. I'm sticking around to see that." Leticia put her makeup brush down and sat down on top of the desk, folding her arms like she was settling in for the wait.
I rolled my eyes at her and looked at Thorne. "Are you really sick?"
"Yes." He buckled over again and moaned.
"Thorne. Don't do this to me."
"You'll be fine with him. I'd better return to my death bed. Toodles." On his way out, he stopped and turned back. "Take pictures for me."
"No."
"Bye, bye, Leticia." He waved and closed the door quickly. God, I loved the man, but he could be so annoying.
***
Leticia insisted on staying to help me put on the gown and finish my hair. She worked slowly too, chatting up a storm so she could catch a glimpse of Falcon in a tux.
When the knock at the door sounded, she popped up and scurried to open it. She held up one hand for me to stand right where I was, lined up, and slowly opened the door so she was behind it.
I meant to say something but the words stuck in my throat. Falcon looked sophisticated and sexy in his tuxedo. It fit him perfectly. The silk lapel and stripe down the leg accentuated his height and broad shoulders. He wore a thin black necktie over a pleated white shirt and silver cufflinks on stiff French cuffs. No cummerbund or vest, but he didn't need anything else. He'd smoothed his hair and tied it at his nape. His goatee was trimmed neatly and shorter than usual. He stood tall and strong, his face serious. His eyes rounded when he saw me, then narrowed and went over the details from head to toe. By the time he finished, they'd grown molten hot.
"Falcon," I said, not knowing what else to say.
"Leticia, you can leave now." Hunger broiled in his eyes.
She slowly came out of her hiding spot behind the door. "Okay, bye." She grabbed her stuff and walked to the door, keeping her eyes on Falcon's broad shoulders the whole time. She bit her finger like Thorne had done and scooted out.
As soon as the door closed, he said, "That dress is deadly."
I stood frozen with jitters and immobilized by Falcon's sudden presence before me.
"If we had time, I'd fuck you in it first, but we gotta go now. Next time, I'll plan better and give us at least an hour to mess up and redo your hair and makeup."
My ears heard him giving me a compliment, talking about sex. My brain merged his words with the upheaval in my belly and churned out panic. The dress made me look fat. Or slutty. He thought I thought this was a date. He expected me to win. If I didn't win, I wasn't a legit singer. I was just another o
pera star trying and failing to cross over to popular music.
"It's not a date," I blurted out.
His brows drew together. "Didn't say it was."
"No. I mean I don't want you to think that I think it is."
He looked to the ceiling and mumbled something I couldn't hear.
"I don't expect to win."
He took a step toward me, but I held up a hand. I didn't want him near me. "I won't win tonight."
He stopped and stood staring at me like an alien speck of dust. "You think I give a shit if you win? Easier for me and the team if you don't. It's challenging enough to cover you when you do the song, but if you win, I'm dealing with another location change in the middle of chaos."
"Oh." I hadn't even thought of the logistics for him.
"I wasn't going to tell you this, but we received a threat today."
I gasped. "What kind of threat?"
"An email through your website." He stared at me with tight lips like he was done talking.
"And? What did it say?"
He looked around the room before he spoke. "Aida Soltari must die."
Oh my goodness. My hands shook and my heart raced in my chest. They really were out to get me. "Who sent it?"
"Came from an ISP in Russia. Diesel and Oz are working on it, but we don't have room for you to spin psycho crap about winning or losing. We have to be sharp and on point. If your thinking is twisted, I can't trust you to make good choices. I need you to cooperate. By cooperate, I mean be fucking confident. Plan your reaction if you don't win, but I think you will. I got a strategy set up with the team for that outcome. Be prepared to react quickly if something goes wrong, but please do not fuck this up with crazy-ass insecure negative thoughts. You look hot. Let's get the fuck out the door."
I opened my mouth, but didn't speak. What could I say? He was right. And smart. And I felt stupid, so I just said what he wanted to hear. "Okay."
He nodded, the anger still in his eyes, as he held out his hand for me to go ahead of him.
He shifted into silent bodyguard mode as we took the elevator down to the parking garage and he buckled me in the back seat. A car pulled up in front of us, another behind us, and we headed to the Jacoby theatre like the Queen and her Royal Protection Squad.
