by Cary Hart
I know if I don’t start off with a compliment, it will be like pulling teeth to get anything out of her until I do.
“Celeste…” I nod. “Lookin’ good.”
“Enough to eat?” She winks.
Really? When will I ever learn not to do business with this chick? If she wasn’t always willing to do whatever I ask, I would have dropped her a long time ago.
“Celeste. Don’t go there,” I warn. “Do you have it?” I hold out my hand, waiting for her to drop the keys.
Pulling the keys from her purse she dangles them over my hand, tormenting me in normal Celeste fashion.
“Ford…how about one last play?” she teases. “Kitty wants to come out and play…”
“Celeste, give them please.” I’m tired of warning.
As I take a step toward her to grab the keys, she looks past me, a wicked smile splayed across her face. She grabs me by the collar and plants a kiss on me.
I don’t open, I don’t kiss back, but something about this situation seems off. I instantly push her away and she laughs, wiping her mouth.
“Wait…” I’m confused.
Turning around, I see Bianca standing in the doorway, tears streaming down her face.
“B! It’s not what it looks like!” I chase after her, but she is gone. Disappeared in the crowd.
“Ford, she was dead weight. A little too needy, don’t you think?” Celeste hands me the envelope and dangles the keys in front of me once again.
“You’re fired.” I grab the envelope and snatch the keys. “And if you think you will ever do business in this town again, you are sorely mistaken.”
“Ford, don’t you think you’re blowing this out of proportion?” she pleads, knowing my threat is a promise I will keep.
“Fucking with people’s lives is not a profession. Go find something you are better at. Something that is more useful.”
Running out the door, I toss the keys to security. “Something came up. Clear the place out and lock up.” I call out.
Not wasting any time to hand the valet my ticket. Instead I grab the taxi that is waiting on an elderly couple walking out of the warehouse. “I’m so sorry, but I need to steal your ride.” I run over to the valet and hand him my ticket. “Take my ride. It’s on me,” I tell the couple. I hop in the taxi, ordering him to take me to the hotel.
Fifteen minutes, that’s how long it takes me to get to the hotel. Fifteen minutes of dialing her phone just to be sent to voicemail. Fifteen minutes…my heart stopped beating.
This girl had inched her way into my life before I even laid eyes on her. Story after story, week after week, I kept going back. Not because I wanted that building, but because I needed to know more about BB.
Running through the lobby, I mentally calculate if I can take the stairs faster than the elevator will run through the levels. Passing the stairs, I head straight to the lift and repeatedly press the buttons, praying that pressing them this many times really does make it arrive faster.
It opens with a ding. I step in and close the doors before anyone else can hop on.
Please let her be here.
Another ding and the doors open again. I run down the hall and to our suite.
Shit!
I feel around for the key card, but I can’t seem to find it. I dig through my wallet, my hands clumsy, and I drop it. Everything comes flying out. “Fuck!”
Sweeping everything up, I go for the desperate move, pounding on the door. “Come on B! Open up!”
I keep pounding and calling out to her, pleading to be let in. Throat sore, hand aching, I don’t stop.
Let me in.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” A security guard is walking up, but I don’t care. Pounding again, “Bianca, open up baby—”
“Sir, we have had some complaints. If you don’t leave right now, then I will physically have to escort you down.”
Sizing the guy up, I contemplate making him do exactly that because I’m not leaving.
“I can’t go.” I bang some more. “B! Let me in babe. Let me explain.”
“Sir, if she doesn’t want to talk to you, maybe it’s best to leave.” He grabs my elbow.
“I need in there. If only I could find my fucking key.” I start to feel around again. “Shit!” It dawns on me that I left it in the car.
“Sir, I’m confused. Is this your room?”
“Yes!” Now we are getting somewhere. “I left my key in my car and my girlfriend is a little upset over a misunderstanding.”
“Name, please.”
“Ford Phillips.”
Pressing a button on his walkie-talkie, he calls down to the front desk. “Ford Phillips. Suite 1215.”
“Ask for I.D.”
Digging my driver’s license out before he even has a chance to ask, I shove it in his face. “Please, let me in.”
“One moment sir.”
And just like that, a miracle happens.
“Thank you.” I walk past him then shut the door.
“B?” I run through the front room and head to the bedroom, then stop dead in my tracks. Bianca is sitting on the edge of the bed, in her underwear, mascara streaming down her face.
“It’s not what it looked like.”
“I know.”
Chapter Eleven
Bianca
He’s here. Not with her. Not at the gallery but here, for me.
“B…” He strides over, falling to his knees in front of me and burying his head in my lap. “I didn’t…”
“I know.” I run my hands through his hair, surprised at how calm I am, but seeing his reaction, I know.
What I witnessed at the gallery, that wasn’t a man who was caught, that was a look of a man who was scared. But being who I am, I still had to run from the emotions that were overwhelming me during that moment…because the sense of loss was one I have never felt before. Considering I just lost my Grans, that is saying a lot.
What I thought I saw cut me to the quick, but the thought of being without him, cut even deeper.
His voice brings me back to the here and now. “I’m sorry.
“I know.”
“I need you.”
“I know.” I need you too.
He climbs up my body, laying me back on the bed. His thumbs caress my cheeks, wiping the mascara away. “Always beautiful,” he murmurs as his lips brush feather light over mine.
A moan escapes my mouth and is swallowed up as his kiss deepens. Our tongues twirl in a slow dance that is almost as innocent as it is erotic.
“Touch me, Ford.”
His hands come between us, pulling down the lace, freeing my breasts, granting him better access. Taking a nipple into his mouth, he has me arching off the bed with one swipe of his tongue.
He moves from breast to breast…sucking, pulling, taking turns, making sure he pays them both the same amount of attention, The constant change from warm mouth to cool air drives me wild.
A slow burn ignites a flame inside me. The sensation is too much. I need more. His delicious torture will be the death of me.
“Ford, I need to touch you.” I tug off his jacket, pushing it over his shoulders and make quick work of the buttons on his shirt.
Shoving himself off the bed, he finishes what I started, a hurried frenzy of hands pulling at clothes until he frees himself.
I’ll never tire of seeing him like this. Ford Phillips uncensored is something most women fantasize about. Rock hard chest, sculpted abs and a perfect V that my mouth my mouth water.
Every woman's wet dream.
My reality.
“Take it off,” he commands and my body shudders at the tone. Obeying, I quickly rid myself of my panties and bra.
Covering my skin with his, he goes back to work, kissing across my chest, licking the valley between my breasts, causing a moan to escape my lips.
I wrap my legs wrap around his hips, nails scratching across his back.
“More…I need more.”
The combi
nation of sensations causes an ache to build between my thighs. I urge him on. “Ford…please.” The hushed whisper of my desire calls out for him to take what he needs and give me what I want.
“You want this?” He grabs his length, stroking it between us. And I can't decide where to look. His face, his brow drawn and eyes hooded with lust, or down to where our bodies are joined?
He teases me, rubbing his thick cock between my folds, and my eyes drift downward just as his thumb presses against where I need him the most causing my first orgasm to flood through me.
Before I even come down, he's filling me. He shifts his position so he's sitting up and drags me with him. Both hands now digging into my hips as I ride him, legs tangled around his back, my hands holding his shoulders for balance.
Rocking, our bodies increase in tempo, sweat soaked skin gliding. We aren't just fucking or even making love. We are claiming each other from the inside out.
Tonight turns into tomorrow and tomorrow turns into the weekend.
Chapter Twelve
Bianca
Head held high, I walk through the bank, reflecting on the past thirty-five days. My Grans’ death, the loan I wasn’t aware of taken out because of my school loans, renovations, finding Ford and now selling my collection to pay off the loan — I guess you can say it all came full circle.
Who says Mondays have to suck? Well…normally this girl, but after selling all my pieces and a weekend-long marathon sex session, I’m thinking today isn’t so bad.
I’m one hop, skip and a jump from being a real-life Mary Freakin’ Poppins. Watch out world. I’m locked and loaded on caffeine and have almost three hundred thousand in my account.
Reaching the loan officer’s desk, I set the coffee down, an offering of peace. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, Miss Black.” He smiles, shaking my hand.
“Nope, I just got here.” I point to the coffee. “Picked you up a treat.”
“Well, thank you, but I’m not a coffee drinker,” he says.
“Ex-Excuse me? I thought you said you don’t drink coffee?” I cough out, shocked at his words.
“That’s right. I’m more of a hot tea guy, but today I got an iced one.” He scoots the coffee back in my direction. “But I do appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
Picking up the extra cup, I remove the lid to let the steam escape. “Bottoms up.” I down half before I come up for air. “Coffee saves lives you know.” I set the cup down.
“Good to know.” He purses his lips, looking through files. “So, what brings you here today, Miss Black?”
This is why Mondays have a bad name, and this is why coffee saves lives. I pick the coffee back up and down the rest. “I’m here to pay off my Grans’ loan.” I hold back the urge to follow it up with an eye-roll.
“That’s what I thought.” He continues to flip through files.
“I thought you guys digitalized those.” I let a chuckle escape. Nothing cute, just pure irritation rearing its ugly head.
“We did, but this payment is so recent, I wasn’t sure if it had been scanned in.” He brings his computer to life. “Let me just check a few things.” He pounds out a few commands on his keyboard. “Yep! The loan has been paid in full.” He swivels around in his chair.
“Well, that is wonderful. It was nice having that money in my account even if it was only for a little bit.” I stand, swinging the bag over my shoulder. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.” I turn and begin to walk out.
“Miss…” I hear his footsteps chase after me, but I keep going. “Miss Black…”
Don’t stop. Keep going.
The doors are almost within my reach.
“Bianca, please stop. The money didn’t come from your account.”
There it is.
Swinging around, I wait for him to say it, to tell me what I already know. To tell me that the one man I trusted betrayed me.
Used me.
“The money…” He’s out of breath.
“If it didn’t come from me, then who? Who paid off my loan?” I demand.
“Ford Phillips paid it Friday, before end of day.” He hands me the transaction showing me the loan has been paid in full.
“What does that even mean? Do I still own the building?”
“Miss Black, it just means you own the building free and clear.” He shuffles some papers together. “If you have any more questions, feel free to give me a call.” He hands me the file and slides his business card on top.
“Thank you.” I stuff the papers in my bag and head home to confront the one person I trusted not only with my building but with my heart.
**********
Pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, I debate going inside. Once I do, there is no going back. I’ll have to face all of my fears in a head-on collision.
Biting the bullet, I open the doors and close my eyes when the familiar chime announces my arrival.
“Hey! I’ve been waiting for you.” I can hear Ford before I see him. “B?” I hear his footsteps get closer. “Bianca? You okay?” I feel his hands on my shoulders, my eyes still closed.
Taking a deep breath, I exhale and open my eyes….my emerald to his ocean blue. “You…”
“Babe? You okay?” He bends, looking me in the eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“The loan…”
“Oh! About that...I hope you aren’t mad.” He smiles and holds out his arms, motioning at the room. “What do you think?”
I take everything in around me. “My paintings are everywhere.” The collection I sold is back here.
“I bought them.”
“Why?”
“I felt like they needed to be here. I loved them so much; I’m going to put them in the dining area of my clubs.”
The club.
“Holy shit, Ford! You bought this place. Not only did you pay the loan off early, you bought the paintings.” I go over to the walls and start taking them down. I’ll be damned if he gets to keep them.
“Six hundred thousand dollars is what you paid for me, for the building.” I walk into the kitchen.
Everything’s changed.
“Babe, it’s not what you think.” He’s on my heels.
“Funny…you keep saying that, but this time, I don’t believe you.” I turn around and poke him in the chest. “Was this always your plan? Taking the building right out from under me by keeping me under you? Fuck me out of my dream?”
“Bianca—”
“I can’t take this Ford. I trusted you. I believed in you, in us.” I head for the stairs. “You can have this place. I didn’t pay the loan, and I didn’t earn the money from the paintings. Technically, it’s yours.” I keep marching to the top floor. “I just need to grab my brushes and I’ll be out of your hair.” I turn the knob and throw open the door.
“B…let me—”
“Holy shit!” I turn toward him. “What’s this? What did you do?”
I stare at the room. Gone are the old furniture and kitchenette that didn’t work, and in their place are a fully functioning art studio with a lounging area.
“What’s this?” I repeat.
“Your new art studio.”
**********
Ford
This isn’t going the way I’d planned. She was supposed to be relieved the loan was paid off and surprised to see that this is no longer a club but her art gallery with her working art studio.
“What do you mean my new art studio?” She walks over, touching her old brushes. Smiling. “You remembered.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you said, ‘Don’t fuck with my brushes, or I’ll cut off your balls.’ I listened.”
“Pretty much,” she agrees.
“B. There is so much to say, so many things to explain that I don’t even know where to begin,” I confess.
“Start from the beginning.” She walks over and takes a seat on a couch, patting the cushion next to her.
Plopping down, I do exactly that, starting from the moment I appr
oached her Grans.
“Your Grans…I’m pretty convinced she had super powers.” I chuckle, holding my hand out, hoping she takes the offering.
“Too soon.”
“Okay… So, anyway, I knew after the first few meetings she would never sell me your building, but I kept coming back because of you.”
“Me?”
“Yup. Every meeting we would just talk business and normal everyday stuff, but the last half, she would fill me in on your life, how you were doing and sometimes even what you were painting.”
“She did?”
“Yeah, she loved you and was so proud.” I reach over and pull her into my lap. “All this? I’m pretty sure your Grans orchestrated it all.”
“How?” She turns, looking over her shoulder at me.
“She’s a pretty savvy business lady. That loan was for your schooling, but when she sold her brownstone she used the money to buy up another piece of property I was scouting out for the club.”
“That doesn’t sound like her.”
“See, in the will she left me that other building in exchange for helping you get the gallery together, but it had a clause that I couldn’t tell you about it. She was afraid you would run.”
Which is exactly what she tried to do.
“I don’t know what to say…” She stands and walks over to the windows. “Everything I thought I knew for the past thirty-five days was a lie. The both of you secretly planned a takeover of my life.”
“Babe, that’s all true.” I walk over and stand behind her. “Bianca Black, halfway through this Hostile Fakeover, I realized the only thing being taken over was my heart.”
“Ford Phillips.” She turns in my arms. “I love you and all your secret shenanigans.”
Epilogue
5 Months Later
Bianca
After months of adding the finishing touches, tonight is finally the grand opening of Candlelight — A perfect name for the softly lit atmosphere where the paintings are the only thing showcased.
Working my way throughout the gallery, I make sure everyone is having a good time, drinks are filled and artists are making their rounds.
“Bianca, I would like you to meet someone,” Ford says as he wraps his arm around my waist.
