by Sierra Rose
“No idea.” Nick grinned. “When I don’t know someone, I call them Jim. Nine times out of ten, I’m right.” I stifled a smile, pleased he’d let me in on another secret, and he gave my hand a little tug. “Come on...time to show you the best room of all.”
Before anyone else could stop us, we breezed out of the ballroom and into the hall. A series of security guards and butlers alike parted ways for us, as we made our way up one small staircase and down another, before ending up in some sort of walk-in closet.
“Here it is.” Nick gestured around in triumph. “The coat room.”
It took me a minute to understand what he was getting at, then my cheeks blushed a delicate shade of pink. My hair, which had been swept half up to trail down my back in little twists and tendrils, spilled in between us—creating a kind of shield.
A pair of warm fingers cut through the center, gently lifting my chin.
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked softly. We were alone—not a person in sight—but he still lowered his voice. “You don’t like the dress?”
My eyes shot up to his in alarm.
“No—it’s not that at all. The dress is just...absurdly beautiful.”
His eyes softened with a smile as he gazed down.
“Then what is it?”
Another wave of nerves trembled through me, as I stared up into his eyes.
“I really don’t want to ruin this for you.”
“Ruin this?” His face lightened in surprise. “Ruin what—the party? How the hell could you possibly—”
“This is not my scene, Nick.”
I pictured the droves of celebrities, dancing and laughing and drinking just a stone’s throw away. Pictured the Nobel laureates and foreign leaders. Then I pictured my little apartment in Brooklyn. I pictured the place I was going back to the second I took off this dress.
“Not your scene?” he repeated, shaking his head incredulously. “Abby, you and I have gone to things like this a million times before. What’s so different about it now?”
“It’s different because I’m not going as your publicist. I’m going as your girlfriend.” I shifted nervously amongst the coats and jackets, wishing I was back in the limo. “I keep feeling like they’re going to see through it somehow. Toss me out and brand me for being a member of working class.”
I was only half-joking, but Nick threw back his head and laughed like I’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.
“Abigail Wilder,” he shook his head, trying to control his smile, “when are you ever going to get it through your thick head?”
I paused uncertainly, staring up at him.
“Get what?”
Without seeming to think about it, he leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose.
“How unspeakably beautiful, lovely, and smart you are.”
For a second, neither one of us moved. We simply stood there, suspended in our own little world as the rest of the party raced on around us. Then, with a touch so light I could barely feel it, Nick slipped his fingers under my coat and slowly slid it off my arms.
Close as we were, he couldn’t hide his soft gasp. Couldn’t hide the look of breathless amazement that transformed his features as his eyes swept over my skin. Couldn’t hide the faint stiffening of his body, as he froze in place.
“Well?” I asked nervously, awaiting the official verdict. “What do you think?”
His senses returned to him, and his lips curved up in a little smile.
“My warrior woman.”
A feeling of deep relief swept through me, and my cheeks flushed with pride. My hips seemed to take on a life of their own, as I swished what little fabric there was back and forth.
His eyes followed every move.
“That’s all you,” I replied. “You’re the one who picked it.”
I thought this was a perfectly acceptable thing to say, but when nothing but a ringing silence followed the remark, I looked up to see what was going on.
It was like Nick didn’t even hear me. For one of the first times I could remember, my silver-tongued client could think of nothing to say. He was simply standing there, spellbound. Looking very much like a twelve-year-old kid on the playground, caught staring at a girl.
I cleared my throat softly, and he jerked back to attention.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
My cheeks flushed again, and I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “I said, that you were the one who picked it out. And...thank you. I love it Nick, I really do.”
His eyes literally seemed to glow as they beamed back into mine, holding me there with a kind of magnetism so strong, I didn’t think I could ever escape it.
“I’m glad,” he said softly. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something else, but he dropped his eyes at the last minute. It was then that he realized the obvious problem. “But it’s not the only thing I picked out. The necklace. You didn’t want to wear it?”
“Oh—I almost forgot.” I reached back into the pocket of my coat and pulled it out, holding it incredibly gently in my palm. “I didn’t want to wear it standing out on the curb in Brooklyn. I was worried someone might grab it before Bobby showed up.”
A faint shadow flickered across Nick’s face.
“Do things like that happen a lot around your apartment?”
My eyes squinted in focus, trying to find the clasp.
“Hmm?”
“It’s nothing.” He shook his head quickly, and took it from my hands. “Here, let me.”
Before I could stop him, he lifted it from my hands—circling around behind me as he draped the gem over my chest. A soft gasp escaped my lips as the cold diamond came to rest against my skin. But it wasn’t the diamond that was making me shiver.
“Hold still,” Nick murmured, leaning down so far that his warm breath tickled the back of my neck, “I’ve almost got it.”
I tried, but it wasn’t easy. Quite the contrary. It was like every nerve ending in my body had suddenly sprung to life. My eyes were dancing with it. My skin was jumping with it. My heart was pounding away with it inside my chest.
Based on the sound of shallow breathing behind me, I wasn’t the only one having trouble.
Nick took a step closer, then another step after that. He was pressed right up against me now—I could feel the heat from his body seeping through my tiny dress into my skin. The muscles in his chest contracted, and without thinking, I leaned back into him, bowing my head so that he could have a better angle of my neck.
“Abby...can I try something?” My body stiffened, and I felt him smile against the back of my hair. “It’s strictly work related—I swear.”
When I was finally able to speak, it was hardly more than a whisper.
“...okay.”
With no more preamble than that, he finished the necklace and started trailing his hands lightly down the sides of my arms. My breath caught in my chest as he moved with excruciating slowness—his fingers leaving little trails of goosebumps on my bare skin. Once his hands reached mine, they paused there for a moment—wrapping around them in a gesture so sweet and tender, I found myself closing my eyes.
But just touching had never been enough for Nick. The man knew no boundaries, and his need to experience everything to the fullest extent had gotten him in trouble more than once.
His hands were soon replaced with his lips.
I bowed my head with another gasp as his mouth grazed along the top of my shoulder, pausing at the base of my neck to give me the softest kiss. My entire body was flushed now, alive and hot and wanting. But still, Nick took his time. Exploring me in a way that was sweet, rather than anxious. In a way that some might even call chaste.
A little smile crept up the side of my face just thinking about it.
Nick. Chaste.
Two words that had never before been used in the same sentence.
But even as I was thinking it, all those feelings of innocent affection flew right out the window as his hands circled aroun
d to the front of my dress.
My teeth clamped down on my lip, as my eyes shot wide open. In a way, I was grateful that he was standing behind me. That way, he couldn’t see whatever lusty expression had completely taken over my face.
But from the looks of things, Nick was feeling pretty damn lusty himself.
I felt his cheek against the side of my head, as he ran his fingers up the soft silk. They lingered on all the right parts, hovering for just a moment, just long enough to start my blood boiling over, before moving on. By the time they got to the bare skin above my navel, I was about ready to explode.
“Abby?” His hands lingered, but for the first time, he sounded a bit uncertain. “No line you don’t want me to cross.”
My eyes closed again, and I leaned back into his chest.
“There’s no line I don’t want you to cross.”
His teeth bit into my shoulder, at the same time that his hands slid into my dress.
And just like that, we left professionalism behind us. Just like that, we took a step into a world where neither one of us had ever ventured. Where neither one of us had the answers.
A world of the unknown.
Chapter 9
At least...we tried to.
There was a sudden banging on the door, and the two of us sprang apart. Panting as if we’d sprinted all the way from Brooklyn. Flushing as we tried desperately to avert our eyes.
“Mr. Hunter?” an anxious voice called from the other side of the door. The voice of a young man, probably one of the wait-staff. “Mr. Hunter, is everything alright?”
The door shook again, and Nick bowed his head with an almost imperceptible sigh. He flashed me the quickest of glances, before his lips twitched up with a regretful smile.
“Yeah, Jake. Everything’s fine.”
Fine was one way of putting it. I had never felt so unbalanced in my entire life. It was like I was having some kind of out of body experience. A dream from which I couldn’t wake up.
I tried to come out of it, while I hastily straightened my dress. Pressed against the far wall of the little room, Nick was having a similarly hard time fixing his own attire. No matter how calm he might have looked on the outside, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
To make matters worse, this Jake—whoever he was—was unbearably persistent. Not a second later, the bronze handle rattled again.
“The door is locked—”
“Yeah,” Nick interrupted with a touch of impatience, “I’m opening it up right now.”
Before he did so, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder. Our eyes met, and upon seeing my clothes straightened and smoothed, he sighed again with the deepest frustration.
“You ready?” he asked softly.
No. Not hardly. Not at all.
“Yeah,” I replied, giving my dress one more unnecessary pat down. “Lead the way.”
There was a tiny crowd waiting for us when stepped out. A crowd consisting mainly of butlers, security, caterers, and half a dozen other people who had worked themselves up into a panic that one of the world’s richest men had somehow barricaded himself in the coat closet.
In the forefront stood Max Marino—Nick’s long-suffering bodyguard, and one of his closest friends. His eyes sparkled with amusement as Nick stepped self-consciously out of the closet, just as he’d done so many times before, but then widened almost imperceptibly when I was the one who followed him out.
My cheeks burned bright pink, and I made a conscious effort to avoid his gaze. It was bad enough that he and I usually covered for Nick in these types of situations together. I couldn’t begin to comprehend how I’d somehow ended up on the other side of the door.
Nick, as was his habit, fell into his usual routine.
Like he did in most cases where he needed an escape, he made a bee-line for the imposing man, glaring viciously over Max’s bulky shoulder as the rest of the crowd scattered and fled. It was a well-tested strategy. Max tended to have that effect on people.
“What’s new, boss?” Max asked quietly. It was the standard question he asked whenever his charge got in over his head, but under the present circumstances, it suddenly sounded entirely different. “I heard some chatter over the staff radio and came to find you.”
“Came to find me after the siege had already started,” Nick retorted, taking a moment to quickly tuck in his shirt. My face blanched. I hadn’t realized he’d begun taking it off.
Max’s dark eyes twinkled, gazing down with the affection one might show to a wayward younger brother. “Perhaps if you had given me a bit of warning—”
“Aren’t you supposed to have my back with these sorts of things?” Nick interrupted impatiently. I blushed and hid my eyes as he straightened his crooked tie. “Stand as a lookout or something? What the hell am I paying you for?”
Max graciously suppressed a smile as he batted away his boss’ manic hands and straightened the tie himself. “I’m supposed to stand as a lookout for you and Abigail? Since when?” His voice was innocent enough, but the implication was overwhelming. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
Nick’s eyes shot up to his, before he dropped them quickly—running a casual hand back through his messy hair. “Yeah, well...now you are.”
This time, it was my turn to look surprised. This wasn’t some ‘heat of the moment’ kind of thing? This was to be a regular occurrence? One that came with a lookout?
One that was going to happen again?
“Are you two an item now?” he asked. “And when did this exactly happen?”
I looked up at him. “I’m his fake girlfriend, since he fired his last one.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “I had no choice! The woman was impossible. But I’ve got you now and that’s a million times better.”
Max smiled. “I’m glad to play along. I can do anything you want. If you need me Nick, I’m here for you.”
“No offense, Max. But I’m not into men.”
He laughed. “Funny one, boss. But I get it now. Abby is playing the part of Ella.”
I nodded.
“Okay, you guys better get into character.”
Nick wrapped his arm around me. “I’m crazy about this woman. She simply takes my breath away.”
My pulse instantly skyrocketed, but fortunately, two years of professionalism kicked in just in time to save me. Choosing not to linger in the awkward moment any longer than I had to, I stepped forward with what I took to be a rather brave smile, and held out my hand.
“Shall we head back to the party?”
Max smothered another grin, while Nick looked at me in a way that told me he was still very much imagining me with my clothes off. A second later, he took my hand.
“We shall.”
Leaving the Italian bodyguard behind us, we headed back down the hall and out to the main ballroom—ignoring the whispers and stares of the entire stadium as we went.
It was a strange building. One that was built to accommodate everything from concerts, to plays, to athletic performances. Mostly, it was simply equipped to handle a great number of people. And right now, it seemed as though every one of them was looking our way.
“I don’t get it,” I murmured, gripping tighter onto Nick’s hand as we made our way into the ballroom. “How do you handle this, day after day?”
“Handle what?”
I snorted incredulously, as I glanced around the several hundred people in the room. All of whom seemed to be simultaneously glancing back at me.
“This. How do you handle all this? It’s overwhelming...”
With a little grin, he spun me suddenly around, pulling me into his chest as one hand wrapped around my lower back. I sucked in a gasp of surprise—relieved beyond words that my skyscraper heels hadn’t sabotaged me—and only then realized that we were on the dance floor.
“How do I handle it?” Nick repeated, offering out his other hand with a smile. “I have a great publicist.”
That was the last the two of us spoke for a long while. I p
laced my hand lightly in his, and together, the two of us began spinning across the marble floors in a slow waltz.
It didn’t matter that we were only ones dancing—the second we started, the rest of the room was quick to join in. It didn’t matter that the orchestra was playing a bit fast for the leisurely speed we were moving—the second they saw us, they slowed the tempo down. It didn’t even seem to matter that I didn’t actually know how to waltz. Considering the way Nick was holding me, I might as well have been floating above the ground.
“This is insane.” I giggled softly, glancing around at the couples dancing around us. They looked like paper dolls on parade—each more colorful and lovely than the next. “I was worried about just staying on my feet, but I think you’re starting an entire craze. Taking the city back to sometime in the seventeen hundreds.”
Nick chuckled, squeezing my hand tighter in his own.
“The seventeen hundreds was a good time. I would have liked the seventeen hundreds.”
“I bet you would have,” I scoffed sarcastically, as a thousand different Casanova scenarios flashed through my head. Did they have publicists in the seventeen hundreds? That man would have needed one for sure. “If you were rich—that is. The seventeen hundreds weren’t so great for the rest of the world.”
“That’s true.” Nick gazed out over the heads of the crowd, his eyes glassing over as he imagined it. “And I don’t know what you mean about ‘staying on your feet,’” he murmured as he released my hand, then spun me back into him, “you’re a wonderful dancer.”
“In a club, maybe.” I tossed back my curls and flashed him a smile. “But not all of us had ballroom dance lessons when we were a child.”
“Come on—this isn’t so bad.”
“You’re not the one doing it in heels!”
“Abby, you should know that I’m the one taking all the risk here.” He glanced down at our feet with a grin. “If you step on me even once in those things, I’m bound to lose a toe.”
We both laughed, as I made a conscious effort to pay more attention to where I was stepping. But I somehow knew that no matter what I did, Nick would never let it happen.
He would never let anything bad happen. Somehow. Impossible as it might seem.
