Lost Without You: Book 2 in the Chasing Olivia Series

by Jillian Anselmi

  “That’s right. When is he leaving?”

  “The twenty-second.”

  “That’s Saturday, right?”

  “Yup. You might see me Saturday night.”

  “I’ll schedule myself in the morning. We can go for drinks and commiserate together.” She sounds miserable. She needs to get a long-term man, and quick.

  “Perfect. I haven’t been down to Anthony’s in a while anyway.”

  “Cool. Listen, I’ve gotta go. I’m in the middle of inventory.”

  “Okay. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” Brenda hangs up just as Chase appears from the bathroom with a tiny hotel towel wrapped around his waist. It barely covers his ass. I can’t help but laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “That towel’s a bit short,” I quip, still laughing. Narrowing his eyes, he drops the towel. Now, I’m no longer laughing, but staring at his magnificent body.

  “What towel?” he asks, deadpan. Stalking over to me, Chase’s eyes blaze. Taking my hands, he pins them behind my back. “I don’t see a towel, do you?” he breathes.

  “No . . . no towel,” I sputter as his erection digs into my stomach.

  “Are you going to give me a reason to shower again?” he asks, his eyes locked on mine. He has me so turned on, I would say yes to anything, but I have other plans.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  I lean in and bite his lower lip. “No.” He releases me, not realizing my intentions. As soon as I’m free, I drop to my knees and grab his cock. Before he can flinch, it’s past my lips and I’m sucking hard.

  “Oh, fuck,” he groans, spreading his feet apart for leverage. Grabbing on to the back of his legs, I continue to push him further into my mouth, swirling my tongue around his massive length. I look up and focus on Chase’s expressions, suppressing my need to gag. Just seeing him in my sexual thrall spurs me on, and I continue to suck hard. Placing his hands on the sides of my head, he begins to thrust his hips faster. His breaths come out in hisses, his teeth clenched.

  “That’s it, baby. Shit, you’re amazing,” he groans as he flexes his hips, his cock thickening. “Baby, I’m going to come,” he pants, and I suck harder. His hands grip my head and a groan tears from his throat as he comes violently into my mouth.

  As Chase tries to calm his labored breathing, I peek up at him, smiling. “So, do you need a shower?” I giggle.

  “You are the most amazing woman I have ever met,” he pants, his lips quirking up into a smile. He hooks his hands underneath my arms and lifts me, pulling me close. “As far as the shower,” he chuckles, “I better not, or we’ll never leave.” Releasing me, he swats me on the ass. “Go shower. We’ll have breakfast downstairs on the terrace.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask Chase as I follow him through the lobby.

  “Places. It’ll be fun, I promise.” Chase takes my hand as we exit the hotel and proceed on foot. I’m glad I wore comfortable shoes.

  “So, you’re not going to tell me?”

  “Nope, since I’m not sure. This part I’m totally winging. Later, though, I’ve made arrangements,” he says, grinning.

  We walk down the brick path along the waterfront, similar to the way we came back last night, only this time, I get to enjoy the view. “This is spectacular,” I murmur, looking out over the harbor. The surface had barely a ripple and the sunlight reflected off the water into a mosaic of colors. Sailboats danced across the glass, barely skimming the surface.

  “I can think of better views,” he says with a wink.

  “Stop it,” I say, blushing. “Really, this is so pretty. Did you spend much time here while you were at Harvard?”

  “Not really. Although, later we can visit a few places me and the guys used to haunt.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know.”

  “We’ll see if we have time,” he says, chewing his lower lip. “We could always stay longer,” he muses.

  “No, that won’t be necessary,” I say, tugging him along.

  As we continue to walk, Chase says, “So, I thought we could sightsee a little. With all the years I spent in this city, I never really had the time to leisurely walk around.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “We’ll also need to do a bit of shopping. For what I have planned later, you didn’t bring the right attire,” he casually adds.

  “Shopping?” I sputter. “What kind of shopping?”

  “You’ll know when we get there.”

  We continue to follow the red brick path, which twists and turns around other hotels and buildings. Chase suddenly turns away from the water, leading me to a large fountain. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he leans in to take a selfie. I look at him in shock. “Selfie?” He nods as he places his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close.

  Pressing my head against his, I look at the phone and smile. When he’s finished, I take his phone to make sure I don’t look ridiculous. Satisfied, I hand it back. “I want to remember this weekend while I’m in Italy, and what better way than to photograph it?” Chase shrugs.

  “You know, there is this thing called Skype.”

  “I know, but the hours will be off. This is just in case.” Taking my hand once again, he pulls me across the other side of Atlantic Avenue toward Central Street. Walking through McKinley Square, toward Commerce Street and Faneuil Marketplace, he says, “I thought you might want a Starbucks.”

  “Ohmigod, yes!” I say, grinning like an idiot. There is no such thing as too much caffeine.

  He leads me all the way down to the Starbucks at the end of Quincy Market. Chase orders us both iced caramel macchiatos and we continue our stroll through the marketplace. We stop in different shops, checking out all the tourist trap items. I find a Boston magnet of a lobster that will go perfectly with the magnets I’ve picked up on other trips. I go to pay, but Chase hands the clerk money before I can get my wallet out. “I can pay for my own magnet,” I say, affronted.

  “Not when you’re with me, you can’t. C’mon, we have shopping to do.” With that, he takes my hand and leads me out of the store.

  “Can you at least give me a hint as to what we are looking for?”

  “A little black dress will do just fine,” he replies, impassive.

  Chase leads me around to several different boutiques, not satisfied with anything they have to offer. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters as he pulls out his phone. Scrolling through his contacts, he finds who he’s looking for and hits send.

  “Gabby? It’s Chase. I need a favor,” he says, reverence in his voice. “I need a good boutique in Boston. Olivia needs a cocktail dress.” He listens for a minute, then nods. “That’s perfect. Can you make it happen? Great, thanks.” Hanging up the phone, he opens up his apps and types an address into his GPS. Taking my hand, he leads me toward State Street. “We can walk, or catch a cab. It’s just under two miles to the boutique. What do you want to do?”

  “That’s not too far, we can walk. Besides, I need to work off breakfast.”

  “Walk, it is.” Switching his GPS from drive to walk, we follow the directions spoken from his phone.

  It’s a beautiful, warm October morning, and our walk is quite enjoyable. Tall, shiny buildings along one-way streets, reminiscent of walking through Manhattan, only quieter. We pass by pubs, restaurants, and old buildings with gorgeous architecture. I’m a sucker for old buildings, so full of history. As our route takes us farther from the main part of the city, the buildings get smaller. There are more trees and wider streets, reminiscent of Queens or Brooklyn.

  About forty-five minutes later, we arrive at the boutique in the middle of an industrial park, not in the center of the city like I thought it would be. Chase opens the door for me and we enter the store.

  “Good afternoon. Can I help you?” a tall, snobby woman asks Chase.

  “We have an appointment with Cecile,” he replies with a smile.

  “Oh, you must be Ms. Barrett,” she squeals
, grabbing both my hands. “Cecile is waiting for you in the back. Would you like something to drink?”

  “We’ll take two glasses of white wine, Sauvignon Blanc if you have it,” Chase tells her, still smiling.

  “Yes, I’ll get it right away.” Chase motions to the plush couch on the side of the room.

  “Who’s Cecile?” I ask as I sit down next to him.

  “Your personal shopper.”

  “Personal shopper?”

  “Yes. This boutique is exclusive. Gabrielle called in a few favors to get this appointment. They don’t just see anyone.”

  “We could have found something at one of the shops we were in.”

  “No. I want something special for tonight and I didn’t see anything good enough for you.”

  “Here you are, Mr. Remington,” snobby lady says, handing Chase and me a glass of wine. “Cecile will be out momentarily.”

  “Thank you,” he dismisses her, and she scurries off. Looking at my watch, I see it’s almost twelve-thirty.

  I take a sip of wine as a thin, older woman comes in. She appears to be in her late forties, with grey peeking through her brunette hair. “Mr. Remington, Ms. Barrett, I’m Cecile. I’ll be taking care of you today.” She shakes our hands. “Gabby told me a little bit about what you would like. I understand a cocktail dress is needed?”

  “Yes, for an event this evening. Black, if possible.”

  “I have quite a few for you to choose from. Olivia, please stand up so I can take your measurements. Also, what’s your shoe size?”

  Standing, I walk to where Cecile has her measuring tape, and murmur, “Seven and a half.”

  When she’s finished measuring, she says, “Great. I have some dresses that will work perfectly. Take a seat and I’ll bring out a few.” She turns and disappears into the back of the shop.

  “Bring them?” I ask Chase, confused.

  “Yes. We sit here and Cecile will bring you a selection of dresses. The one’s you like, you can try on.”

  “This is so strange. I like looking through the racks.”

  “They don’t have racks here. Each dress is one of a kind.”

  “One of a kind?” I ask, inwardly cringing. Chase nods, giving me a reassuring smile.

  Cecile reappears with a large selection of dresses hanging from a from a rolling rack, as well as a few pairs of shoes. “Okay, I brought up a few of my favorites, as well as one’s I thought would work with your body type.” She holds up the dresses one by one, explaining their fabric type and cut.

  “I’m going to need more than a glass of wine for this,” I mutter to no one in particular. Chase stifles a laugh. I choose a few I like and Chase chooses more than a few he likes. By the end, I have a dozen dresses to try on.

  We’re escorted to a larger room with a huge dressing area in the center. Chase takes a seat on the couch directly across from a full-length mirror and Cecile wheels the dresses I chose into the dressing room while I follow dutifully behind.

  “We’ll just be a few minutes,” Cecile says to Chase as she closes the door.

  “Okay. Undress, and I’ll be helping you get some of these on. A few are tricky.” As I strip, Cecile removes one of the dresses from its hanger. Zipping me in, I open the door to show Chase. Looking me over, his face remains impassive, but his tight lips give him away. He hates it.

  I repeat this for eleven more dresses, and of course, the last dress I try on is the one I really like. It’s a black, one-shoulder gown with crystal encrusted rings atop the shoulder and a long, bunched waistline. Cecile matched it with a pair of silver crystal encrusted three-inch heels. As I walk toward Chase, his eyes follow the very long slit up my right leg.

  “So, which one do you like?” I ask, already knowing his answer.

  “I absolutely love this dress on you, Ms. Barrett. It’s the epitome of sexy.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Chase says. “We’ll take it.”

  “And the shoes?”

  “Are they comfortable, Olivia? It’s going to be a long evening.”

  “Yes. Surprisingly, they are.”

  “We’ll take the shoes as well,” he says to Cecile, never taking his eyes off me.

  I go back into the dressing room and change, giving Cecile the dress and shoes. When I come out, Chase is hanging up his phone. “I have a car coming to pick us up. All of this walking and shopping has made me hungry.”

  “That’s fine. I’m hungry, too.”

  “Cecile, can you have a courier bring the dress and shoes to the Boston Harbor Hotel?”

  “Of course, Mr. Remington. “

  “Fantastic.” As we walk out of the boutique, a town car pulls up to the curb. Opening the door, Chase follows me inside.

  After a late lunch at the Meritage, Chase and I sit on the pier, enjoying the view. Putting his arm around my shoulders, I lay my head against his chest. “So, why didn’t you tell me to pack something fancy?” I ask, somewhat annoyed at being ambushed earlier.

  “I thought taking you shopping would be much more fun.”

  “You know how I feel about you spending so much money on me, and really, when am I going to wear that dress again?”

  Turning to look at me, Chase says, “Don’t you know? No one wears a dress more than once, anyway.” His lips twitch up into a smile as he tries to stop himself from laughing.

  “Since when are you the fashion expert?”

  “Have you met my stepmother?” he quips. “I might not have spent that much time around her, but when I did, I picked up a few things.”

  “Great,” I mutter to myself. Chase overhears and sighs.

  “I love spending money on you. It makes me happy.”

  “I know,” I mutter petulantly. “I just don’t want you to think I’m with you for the money.”

  “That is the furthest thing from my mind,” he says, kissing my forehead.

  “Promise me no more dresses, at least for a little while.”

  “Nope, can’t make any promises.”

  “At least I’ll get a reprieve while you’re in Italy.”

  “Maybe,” he says, his lips curling into a Cheshire smile.

  “As it is, while you’re away, I’ll be making up the time I missed while we were in Turks and Caicos.”

  “I really wish you didn’t like your job so much.”

  “I love my job, there’s no talking me out of it.”

  “I know.”

  “I’d be bored out of my mind if I didn’t work.”

  “I’d find things to keep you busy.” He pulls me close, nibbling on my ear.

  “Yes, I’m sure you would,” I giggle.

  “C’mon. We need to get ready.”

  “You still won’t tell me where we’re going?”

  “Nope.”

  Freshly showered and shaved, I actually take the time to do my hair and it falls down my back straight as a pin. There aren’t too many months in the year where I can pull off straight hair without the humidity creeping in and frizzing it. October, as a whole, is a pretty dry month, so I take the chance. I go a little heavier on my makeup than I normally do since we’re apparently going somewhere fancy.

  Stepping out of the bedroom wearing my new dress and shoes, I find Chase sitting on the couch, waiting for me. He’s dressed in a tuxedo, and looks delicious. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice our bags are packed and ready by the door. His eyes find mine, and his breath hitches.

  “Whoa, Olivia, you look amazing,” he murmurs.

  “A tux, Chase? Where are we going?”

  Standing, he saunters over, pulling me into his arms. “You’ll see when we get there.”

  “What’s with the packed bags?”

  “It’ll be late when we leave where we’re going, so I’m having a car drive us straight to the airport.” He looks me up and down. “God, the way you look, I don’t want to go anywhere.”

  “Then let’s stay here,” I goad, earning a growl from low in his throat.

  “No,
we’ll have plenty of time for that later,” he whispers. Releasing me, he picks up two boxes off the end table and hands me one. “I thought you would complement these nicely,” he says, smiling.

  Opening the square box, I find the most exquisite necklace I’ve ever seen. It’s white gold, I think, with three flowers made of diamonds centered on the chain.

  “Ohmigod! Chase! This is gorgeous, and obviously ridiculously expensive. I can’t accept this!”

  “Of course you can. Here, let me.” He reaches for the necklace, placing it on my neck. “Look. It was made for you.”

  Walking over to the mirror by the door, I look at the necklace around my neck. It is the most beautiful necklace I’ve ever seen.“Where did you get this? I don’t recognize the box.”

  “Van Cleef and Arpels.” Standing behind me, he hands me the other box. “You can’t wear a necklace without a pair of earrings,” he breathes. Opening it, I find a pair of diamond-clustered earrings that match the necklace perfectly.

  Staring down at the box, I’m struck dumb. Regaining my composure, I manage to breathe out, “You’re insane.”

  “Do you like them?” Pulling me into his arms, he runs his nose along the side of my neck.

  “Like them? I love them! I’ve never owned anything so beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin. “Let’s go. There’s a car waiting downstairs.”

  We arrive in front of a large brick building with tall, white Grecian columns and a red carpet leading to the entrance. In front, a crowd has gathered, all similarly dressed in evening gowns and tuxedoes. I get the feeling this is going to be an extravagant evening.

  Chase motions for me to stay put as he gets out of the car. Coming around to my side, he opens my door and helps me out.

  Taking my hand, he leads me into the building down the long red carpet. “Where are we?” I ask.

  “The Boston Symphony Orchestra Gala. They have it every year,” he answers.

  As we stroll down the red carpet, a photographer stops us and motions for us to stand in front of a screen. Sensing my reticence, Chase firmly places his arm around my waist and pulls me close. “Smile for the camera,” he whispers in my ear. After several flashes, we’re released and the photographer goes after his next victims.