by Blue Saffire
Abandoning all hope for a rational conversation, I give in completely. Gripping her hips, I jerk her across the counter, pressing myself into the space between her thighs so hard and fast, she gasps.
“Let me see if I’m understanding you correctly,” I growl at her, flexing my hips against her, letting her feel exactly what she’s doing to me. “I can either fuck you or give you money—” I flex again, grinding myself against her until her pupils dilate and she’s panting, her fingers digging into the strained tendons in my neck. “but not both. Is that what you’re saying?”
She nods, mouth parted slightly like she’s having a hard time breathing, eyelashes flutter against flushed cheeks. “Yes.”
“I have to tell you, Miss Fiorella…” Lifting a hand, I cradle her jaw, letting my thumb skim along her lush lower lip, slipping it into her mouth, brushing the pad of it against the tip of her tongue. The second I make contact, I remember what it’s like to come in her mouth and I have to swallow a groan. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” I slip my thumb further into her mouth, using my grip on her to tilt her head back, giving myself access to her throat, slowly working my way down while she licks and sucks my—
Somewhere in the back of my brain, I hear the elevator.
“Sir?”
As soon as she hears his voice, Silver goes stiff against me her hands falling away from my shoulders to jerk her dress closed, pushing my hand away from her mouth.
Fuck Angus and his British efficiency.
I lift my head and look over to see that while the elevator door is open, he hasn’t disembarked. Probably sees the majority of our clothes tossed around and assumes we’re busy.
“I can come back—”
“No.” I glower at her, telling her we’re not finished. Not by a long shot. “Now is good.”
Angus steps off the elevator, dressed in a three-piece suit at midnight, carrying a pair of shopping bags. One from Bergdorf’s. The other from the grocer around the corner. “The items you requested, sir.” He enters the kitchen area to hand me the Bergdorf’s bag before sliding the other onto the kitchen island. “Is there anything else you require?”
I set the bag next to Silver since it’s for her and shake my head. “No. I’ll give you a call in the mo—”
“Wait.”
I turn away from Angus to see Silver look up from the contents of the shopping bag, her face pale and slightly panicked.
“Are the items not what you require, Madam?” Angus looks at her, slightly puzzled, like his British sensibilities won’t allow him to consider that he may have missed something she might need.
“No.” Silver shakes her head, her gaze darting toward me before she continues. “I mean, yes—this is great.” She indicates the shopping bag in front of her. “But I can’t stay,” she says, emphasizing the last word like the assumption is ridiculous and my neck goes stiff. “I need a ride to the airport… or the train station.” When neither of us says anything she pushes on. “I mean, I can call an Uber or a cab but I can’t—”
I’m sure she can’t see it because Angus is a Sphinx but I can. When she says Uber he almost loses it.
“If you require transportation, Madam, I will be more than happy to provide it for you. An Uber will not be necessary.” He looks at me and I give him a slight, almost imperceptible shake of my head.
He’s not taking her anywhere.
“Very well.” He bows slightly, the ghost of a smile sliding across his face. “Sir. Madam.”
And then he’s gone.
For a second, neither of us says anything. I move away from her completely, trying to rein it in, focusing on the groceries I had Angus pick up, pulling items from the bag and lining them up on the island in front of me.
Even before I hit billionaire status, I was used to getting what I wanted. No is not something I’ve ever been able to accept. If there’s something I want, I find a way. I make it mine, by any means necessary.
“I can’t stay, Tobias.”
Her tone tightens my jaw. There’s no wiggle room in it. She’s not going to stay.
I finally turn around and look at her. I don’t like what I see. I can tell by the way she’s holding herself, stiff and ready to bolt that she thinks I’m going to lose my temper. Throw money at her and tell her to get out.
Knowing that’s how she’s expecting me to behave both angers and mollifies me. It’s nothing less than I deserve and knowing that makes it easy to keep myself in check.
“Why?” I say, keeping my tone light, I carry a carton of ice cream to the freezer.
“Why?” She gives me a deer in the headlights kind of look, blinking at me. “Because,” she says, sliding off the counter to pick up a carton of milk. “I have responsibilities.” She hands me the milk, shaking her head. “I have work in the morning, I can’t just—”
“I’ll call your father.” I take the milk and stick it in the fridge. “I’ll tell him that I flew you to New York, last minute, so we can scout potential locations in the morning.”
“You will not call my father,” she sputters at me, swiping a carton of eggs off the counter before jamming them into my hand. “The last thing I need for him to think is—”
“You’re a grown woman with an active sex life.” I finish for her, laughing when she narrows her eyes at me.
“No.” she slaps the word at me before all but throwing a loaf of bread in my face. “That I’m carrying on with an investor.”
“Carrying on?” I laugh at her and she glares at me, silvery gray eyes spitting fire at me. Before she can turn away, I catch her by the wrist and haul her against me. “Is that what we’re doing here?”
“We’re not doing anything,” she snaps at me. “I already told you. We can’t keep—”
I spin her into the fridge, pressing her back while I mold myself against her. “And I told you…” I run my hand up the length of her thigh. “I don’t agree with you.”
It’s not until her chin starts to tremble that I realize how serious she is. How close she is to crying.
“Okay,” I switch gears, putting as much space between us as I can without letting her go, because I think I understand what this is about. The last time she spent the night, she woke up alone to a stack of cash and a terse, thank you for your services note. “You don’t have to spend the night here,” I say, covering my desperation to keep her as close as I can with a thin coat of rationality. “You can use my suite at the Hawthorne. Please.”
Please.
This is as close to begging as I’ve ever come and I feel it again. The same way I felt the morning after, looking at my picture of my mother, knowing she saw it. Caught a glimpse of what makes me bleed. I feel wounded. Exposed. So much so that I’m about to tell her never mind. That I’ll call Angus right now. She can go if she wants to. I don’t—
She nods, giving me a small smile, her hand reaching up to brush my hair back. The gesture is so unexpected that it nearly undoes me. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
31
Silver
Okay. I’ll stay.
The words come out before I have a chance to realize what I’m saying. What I’m doing.
As soon as I say it, his entire body relaxes and he lets out a long, slow breath, telling me just how important my staying is to him.
Trying to inject some levity into the situation, I smile. “I hate to bring it up, but you did kidnap me under the pretense of dinner.”
He smiles. “I’ve got dinner covered,” he says, cocking his head toward the kitchen island. Looking in the direction he indicates, I see a familiar, bright yellow box lined up between a package of Oreos and a pile of frozen burritos.
“You remembered?” I look back at him, shaking my head. “How—”
“I remember everything about you.” He leans into me, giving me that wry grin of his. I know now that he uses it to cover up how he really feels. When he’s feeling vulnerable. “It’s kind of hard to forget a woman who tells you her deepest, darkes
t secret is that her soul is made of pizza rolls.”
“I thought you hated me,” I whisper, trying to reconcile the way he behaved five years ago with what he’s telling me now.
“I did hate you.” He says it softly, gaze roaming my face. “Mostly because even though I believed the worst, I never stopped thinking about you.”
My mother died on my birthday.
That’s what he told me. That’s what he confessed to me. I can suddenly understand how he came to the conclusion he did when he saw that I’d gone through his things. The loss of his mother destroyed him. I could tell, the moment he said the words. How close they were. How lost he’d been without her. That he’d shared it with me only to think I’d been playing him…
Suddenly, I can’t breathe. “I wish things had happened differently.” It’s as close as I can come to telling him about Noah without falling to my knees and confessing everything. Begging for forgiveness. Which is what I should be doing. I should be telling him. Trying to explain instead of lying.
He’s standing here, telling me the truth. The hard, uncomfortable truth and I’m letting him while I lie to his face.
“Me too.” He reaches up to trace his fingertips along the curve of my brow, the soft, gentle gesture at total odds with the wicked grin he’s giving me. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to show you just how much.”
“How do you propose to do that, Mr. Bright?” I say, prepared to reassert my point that we shouldn’t mix business with whatever it is that’s happening between us.
“Well, first, I’d like to feed you enough pizza rolls, ice cream and frozen burritos to ensure your compliance…” he leans into me, tipping his head, pressing his lips against my throat. My jaw. My cheek. My mouth, the feel of his against mine, instantly chasing away every argument and protest I’ve managed to scrape together about mixing sex with our potential business arrangement. “and then I’m going to be a gentleman, which goes against every instinct that I have, and take you to the Hawthorne—” He pushes closer, close enough to let me feel the hard length of him against my belly. “and then come home so I can take the longest, coldest shower ever recorded in human history.” He leans away from me just enough to look me in the eye. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about staying here, in which case I’ll find more satisfying ways to utilize your junk-food induced compliance.”
“Just make my pizza rolls,” I laugh, pushing him away before he can talk me into changing my mind. “I need to call my father and tap dance my way out of work tomorrow morning.”
Leaving him in the kitchen, I cross the expanse of the dark, empty penthouse toward the bank of windows overlooking the Empire State Building, searching for and finding my purse. It’s open, its contents strewn across the floor, next to my bra and panties. Scrambling into them, I find my cell phone and call Jane.
“Hey,” she says. In the background I can her muting the television. “How’s it going?”
“Well,” I say turning to lean against the window behind me. Across the apartment, I can see Tobias, still in nothing but boxers, dumping the box of pizza rolls onto the baking sheet Angus bought for the occasion. “I guess that depends on who you ask.”
“You slept with him.” There’s no judgment in her tone but hearing her say it out loud still stings.
“Yup.” I take a shaky breath. Let it out slow.
“I’m in New York. He wants me to stay so we can—”
“Tell him, Silver.” Again, no judgment, just a healthy dose of concern. “Right now. As soon as you hang up.”
I know she’s right. I know I should tell him about Noah. That I have to.
But I can’t.
Not tonight.
“I will,” I say. “When the time is right.” Even as I’m saying it, I know I’m just stalling. There is no right time. Not for something like this. “Is Lilah there? I know I said I’d be home earl—”
“Club Rat Barbie took off with the Disaster Twins about an hour ago—it’s just me, Noah and Judge Judy.” She laughs. “It’s okay. I’ll stay over, get Noah off to school and head to work. I might be a few minutes late but I think—”
“Thank you, Jane.” I don’t say it enough. I don’t tell her I appreciate her as much as I should.
“I love you and I love your kid. There’s nothing to thank me for.” She falls quiet for a moment. “Just… be careful.”
“I will be,” I say, even though I know I’m lying.
32
Tobias
I decide to drive her to the Hawthorne instead of calling Angus. I tell myself it’s because I need to be there to make sure that there’s no issue with letting her into my suite but I know the real reason.
I’m not ready to let her go.
Not yet.
Not even for a few hours.
Jesus.
If Jase could see me, he’d laugh his ass off right now. He’s always giving me shit for the way I approach the opposite sex.
Rules are for rugby, Tob—not women.
He’d never let me hear the end of it if he knew that not only did I bring Silver home—twice—that I’m currently driving her to the Hawthorne at her request while mentally trying to re-arrange my workload tomorrow so I can spend as much time with her as possible. I even found her a goddamned safety pin and helped her fix her dress.
“You know I can get my own room, right?” she says from the seat next to me when I pull up in front of the hotel. “All I have to do is call Lilah.”
“I keep a corporate suite,” I tell her, making it sound like the place is used for business purposes and not where I take the women I sleep with. Not that I’ve been using it. Lately, I’ve been so focused on work that I haven’t had time for anything else. “My office building is across the street.” I point at the window, at the glass and concrete skyscraper that houses my corporate offices before getting out of the car and handing the valet my keys. When she gives me a questioning look over the roof of the car, I smile. “I have to tell the concierge it’s being used for the night.”
That’s a lie. I don’t have to tell the concierge anything. I pay through the nose every month for the privilege of coming and going as I please. It’s just an excuse to spend a few more minutes with her.
Pressing my hand to the small of her back, I walk her into the lobby, stopping at the front desk long enough to tell a confused concierge that my suite will be occupied for the evening. “Very good, sir,” he says, flicking a quick glance at the shopping bag in Silver’s hand before refocusing on me, the tiniest of smirks on his face. “Will there be—”
“Thank you,” I say, steering Silver toward the elevator. As soon as the doors close, I look at her. “I’ve got a 7AM breakfast meeting to hammer out a few things with a visiting Japanese conglomerate and a 9AM video-conference with my LA office but I think I can move my—”
“It’s 2AM,” she says, looking at me like she’s running the numbers in her head. Finally she frowns at me while the elevator stops and the doors slide open. “You should’ve told me you needed to be up early, I would’ve—”
“Agreed to stay at my place?”
She steps into the corridor, shaking her head. “Insisted that Angus take me to the train station hours ago.”
“Which is why I didn’t tell you,” I say in a perfectly reasonable tone, leading her down the corridor to my suite.
“By the time you get back to your place you’ll be lucky to get any sleep at all.”
I don’t tell her I have no intention of going home. As soon as I leave her here, I’ll head across the street and get a jump on the day so I can clear my schedule as soon as possible. “You think I became the billionaire CEO of a Fortune 500 company at the age of twenty-five by sleeping?” I stop in front of my door and slide the keycard through the lock while laughing at the way she’s looking at me. “It’s okay, Silver.” I open the door and hand her the card. “I’m—”
“Stay.”
I think about sleeping next to her. Remember what it w
as like to feel her soft, even breath on my neck. Her hand curled up on my chest, the other tucked under her chin. Her tumble of long dark hair, splayed across my stomach.
“Are you sure?” I say because I am. I know what’s going to happen if I walk through that door and I want to make sure she knows it too.
“No.” She shakes her head, her wide gray eyes searching my face. “But I want you to stay anyway.”
33
Silver
I wake up to another note on the nightstand.
Silver –
I’m across the street. I left your name with the security guard at the front desk. Just tell him who you are and he’ll tell you where to go. My assistant’s name is Lara. She’s expecting you. Take your time…
T.
Almost immediately the hotel phone on the nightstand starts to ring.
“Hello?”
“Good morning.” A chipper, bright voice practically assaults me through the receiver. “This is your scheduled, 8AM wake-up call.”
“Thank you,” I say, even though I didn’t schedule anything. Maybe Tobias did, worried I’d sleep the day away. “I’m awake.”
“Excellent,” she says. “Have a great day.”
I hang up and lay back, rereading the note before letting my hand fall to my chest. Marginally better than the last one but still not the wake-up I was hoping for. Thinking about last night, I feel an odd mixture of shame and arousal. We barely got the door to his suite shut before we were tearing each other’s clothes off again. Before he picked me up and carried me to bed where he made love to me for hours.
Made love.
It’s a silly, old-fashioned sentiment. Men like Tobias don’t make love. They take what they want and move on.
Still, I let myself have the memory. Let myself keep it. Re-shape it. Remember it the way I want to and not the way it really happened.
