After I manage to will my erection into submission, I throw on a pair of boxers, descend the staircase, and make my way to the kitchen.
The very first thing I do is set up the Keurig to make her a cup of coffee. Black, just the way I know she likes it. I pride myself in knowing that little tidbit about her. It surprisingly brings me great satisfaction. I'm in the middle of cracking open some eggs as I hear her footsteps on the stairs. I turn around and almost drool at the sight. Nothing is hotter than a woman wearing nothing but your dress shirt. Well, except when she is wearing you. But this is a relatively close second.
My shirt goes down past her hips, the hem resting an inch above her knees. She has the first two buttons undone, showing me just enough of her bare breasts to keep my dick excited. If I could take a mental picture of any moment in my life, I would choose this one. No contest.
She joins me in the kitchen, sitting on one of the vacant stools in front of the island. She points to the cup of coffee.
"Is this for me?" I nod. She takes the cup into both her hands and brings it to her lips, humming as the hot liquid goes down her throat.
"So, you cook? You don't pay someone for that?" I can't help but laugh at her bluntness. It must have something to do with her reporter training.
"Cooking is something I do myself. I actually enjoy it. It's relaxing." She bites her lip and I try to avert my gaze, but I’m too late. My cock reawakens, pressing itself against the fly of my boxers.
"So, you cook for yourself, but you don't dress yourself?" I guffaw at her innocent comment. Now that I hear it out loud, I realize just how absurd it sounds. I nod my head.
"Yeah. I guess that's true. I dress myself for casual occasions. Anything that requires a suit, I use Timothy."
As if on cue, the elevator dings and Timothy steps inside.
"Speak of the devil. Good morning, Timothy." I lean over to her and whisper in her ear. "Call him Timmy. I dare you."
"Hi, Timmy." Her voice echoes throughout the open-space room. Timothy jolts his head toward us and practically jumps up into the air with glee.
"My, oh, my. We have company this morning? Who is the lovely lass we have here?"
I can't help but wonder why he didn't flip out on her for using his hated childhood nickname. Maybe it’s because she’s a guest in my apartment and Timothy doesn't want to be rude, but I want to know for sure. I can't suppress my curiosity.
"Really? No lecture on calling you Timmy?" Timothy shoots me his signature are-you-for-real look like I should know the answer to my own question.
"She can call me Timmy. You can't."
"But how does that make any…" Timothy interrupts me by holding up his pointer finger in the air.
"Shh! You are being rude." Timothy flashes me his other signature look, the side-eye.
"My apologies. Timothy, this is Nicole. Nicole, Timothy." Timothy air kisses the space around both of her cheeks.
"Delighted to meet you. And to see an actual woman in this apartment. If it wasn't for all the stories in the tabloids about him over the years, I would swear he was a closeted gay." They both laugh hysterically.
"Well, I can attest that he is not." Timothy chortles and then turns his gaze to me.
"Oh, this one is a keeper." I flash a coy smirk in her direction.
"I'm starting to think that she just might be."
I can see Nicole notice the engagement ring on his finger. Here we go with the Lance stories again. "So, are you engaged or married?"
A gigantic smile forms on Timothy's face. His upcoming nuptials are by far his favorite topic to discuss.
"Engaged, honey. His name is Lance and the wedding is October twenty-third."
"Wow. That's so soon. Congratulations."
"Don't I know it. Thank you." Once again, Timothy returns his gaze to me before he continues. "Normally, I would say it’s too late to bring a plus one. But for this feisty senorita, I'll make an exception."
Timothy looks back toward Nicole. She smiles, and a sense of joy overwhelms me. I love to see her and Timothy getting along so well. Maybe my two worlds can collide smoothly after all. Not like I had any doubt that my squad would accept her. She's frickin’ fantastic and charming as Hell. Not to mention hot as fuck!
"I'm sure he'll bring you, sweetie. By the looks of you wearing a three-hundred-and-thirty-dollar dress shirt over your body, you won't have to beg. You got him right where you want him, honey. And I've never seen him any happier."
I clear my throat to let him know that he is going a bit too far, even though his words are true.
"On that note, I'll head upstairs and pick out your outfit for tonight."
"Good idea."
I stay silent until Timothy is nowhere in sight.
"Sorry about that." Nicole furrows her brow.
"Don't apologize. I really enjoyed talking to him. And I so wanna go to the wedding, if that's alright with you." I chuckle at her pretty-please glare and her baby-lipped pout.
"You don't even have to ask. Of course, I'll take you." Nicole claps her hands with glee.
"Yay! I'm so excited. It's been ages since I've been to a good wedding."
I love seeing her so excited. The best part was knowing that I made it happen. I put that smile on her face. This moment is priceless.
"Nobody said it was going to be good." I raise both my eyebrows in warning. She smacks my shoulder.
"Stop it. It's going to be amazing. And fun. How can it not be?"
Nicole tugs on my dress shirt that she is currently wearing.
"Three-hundred-and-thirty dollars?" A confused expression forms on her beautiful face. I smile.
"Apparently so. I just give him my credit card and he goes shopping on my behalf."
I lean over and kiss her forehead before I focus my attention on the eggs once more.
"The breakfast I have planned might take a while. Feel free to make yourself at home."
"Well, I finished my coffee, so I'm going to hop in the shower."
"Don't tell me that when I'm stuck down here cooking." She bites her lip and smiles at the same time. She really likes to mess with me, doesn't she?
"That's the idea. I want to get cleaner, not dirtier."
"What will you wear?" She looks at me, puzzled, as if the answer is so obvious. I'm getting really tired of receiving that look today. Not everything is so obvious all the time. At least not to me.
"My dress from last night. Wherever it is." I shake my head.
"Unacceptable. I will have Timothy slip out and buy you something."
"No, I'll be fine just…"
I kiss the words right off her lips. With my lips still pressed up against hers, I speak.
"No arguments. I want to buy you something and there is no talking me out of it." My words sound muffled by her lips, but she understands them anyway.
"Fine, but only one thing. Promise?"
"Scout's honor."
I steal one last lingering kiss from her before she makes her way upstairs and into my bedroom.
I summon Timothy downstairs, hand him my credit card, and tell him to buy Nicole five outfits. Sure, I'm breaking my promise, but it's for the greater good. Besides, I wasn't ever a Boy or Cub Scout. So, technically, I'm not breaking anything.
"Do you need me to find out her size?" Timothy shakes his head.
"Please. I got this."
"Very well then. Work your magic."
Timothy prances out of the kitchen and into the elevator, humming Madonna's Material Girl. I can't stop the smile from forming on my face. I'm sure glad Timothy is in my life. What would I do without him? I'd never admit this to him aloud, but he is my best friend. After all, I've known him for the past twelve years.
After the eggs start cooking, I place tomatoes, bacon-bits, parsley, and cheddar cheese into the frying pan. Sure, it's an omelet and not something fancier, but doesn't it beat basic pancakes?
Once the omelets are finished, I place them on two separate plates and start working
on the next course—cinnamon French toast.
Forty minutes later, I set out the complete meal: French toast, omelets, pancakes, and two more freshly brewed coffees. It looks like Ihop threw up in here.
As soon as I place down the pancake platter on the island, the elevator chimes, and Timothy comes waltzing back into the living room.
"Damn. That was fast."
"I've been waiting for this moment for a long time. Too damn long if you ask me. Want to see what I got?" I nod my head.
"I won't understand any of it, but sure." I only agreed to suffer through this fashion show because I know how much Timothy wants to show them to me. It's been awhile since I've seen him this enthusiastic. Maybe he is overly excited that he has a new canvas to clothe. I'm sure he is well beyond bored clothing my body by now. Timothy pulls out the first outfit from one of the three bags.
"Well, the first one is a pink, coral, and red Annelise dress by Alexis. This short number will look fantastic on her. And don't be mad, but I bought a pair of Catalonia earrings by Lionette NY to match them."
"I'm not mad. Good choice. What's next?" Good choice? What the fuck am I saying? Timothy reaches into the same bag and pulls out the second outfit.
"This is a multicolor floral frill cut-out top by Nicholas and a red washed leather jacket by Rebecca Taylor. All paired with a pair of medium-wash jeans. Following that is a multicolor tribal print mesh long-sleeved bodysuit by Missguided, partnered with a green leather jacket by Joie, and a pair of light-washed jeans. Outfit four is a tan metallic faux leather top by Zara partnered with a black constance jacket by Rag and Bone, and a pair of black floral shorts by Club Monaco. Last, but certainly not least, is a perfect ensemble for a senator's wife. Hint hint, wink wink, nudge nudge."
"Very subtle."
"Screw subtle. You need to be pushed. Who would've thought I would get married before you? And I had to wait for laws to be passed. Anyway, this is a gray ria sweater by All Saints with a pair of high-waisted jeans to match. And to perfectly complement this beauty is a petite ula necklace by Wolf and Sadie."
Timothy stares at me, desperately waiting for my approval. Only after I finish cooking breakfast do I finally give in.
"You did a perfect job, Timothy. I knew I could count on you." He jumps into the air with childish enjoyment, very similar to that a child has on Christmas morning.
"Yay! On that note, I must be going. Have a few final wedding wrinkles to iron out. Let me know how she likes them tomorrow."
"You know, if she agrees to go out on the campaign tour with me next week, I might just have to ask you to go shopping for her again." Timothy points his finger at me.
"Don't tease me now." I smirk at the fact that he thinks I would tease him about buying clothes for Nicole. I wouldn't joke about clothes to him. That would be way too cruel. Besides, if I wanted to tease him, I would just call him Timmy.
"You have my word."
Timothy jumps into the air once more before he skips through the living room and into the elevator.
Nicole comes walking down the steps with just a towel wrapped around her body. And once again, my dick salutes his queen. Damn, I love how she has this effect on me.
I see her gaze shift from me to the outfits laid out on my sectional in the living room. Time to prepare for the fight that is certainly going to ensue.
"I said one outfit. You promised you wouldn't overdo it." I flash her my naughtiest grin.
"I gave you my scout's honor. Too bad I was never a scout." Nicole flashes me her best are-you-fucking-kidding-me glare. And dammit, even that was sexy beyond all hell.
"As a journalist, I am appalled that I overlooked that little tidbit."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. You were distracted by my body." I wag my eyebrows flirtatiously, smile, and let my dimples come out to play. Nicole rolls her eyes.
"Fuck those cheeky bastards. So, any word from your team about our predicament?" I nod my head.
"My PR team recommends that I…" I stop mid-sentence before I continue "You know what? You leave all the gritty details to me and I'll get this done. I have an event tonight. But first, I have something important to ask you."
She looks at me like a deer does headlights. Frozen. Petrified by fear. She must think I'm about to propose or something. What else would explain this terrified look?
"Don't worry. I'm not going to propose. I wanted to ask you to be the president and chairwoman of the Isaiah Foundation."
Her facial expression and demeanor alter from fear to utter shock. She didn't see this coming. I don't see how; her brother was the sole inspiration for the foundation. It’s only fair to make his sister the one in charge of it. Her beautiful eyes grow watery, but she doesn't cry. She runs toward me at full speed and leaps into my arms. I catch her as she wraps me up in her warm embrace.
"Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me." I laugh.
"I think I have some idea. So, I take it you accept my offer?" She laughs and nods her head.
"Yes, I accept." A wide smile forms on my face.
"Perfect. I'll make the announcement tonight. Can I mention that Isaiah is your brother?"
"Yes, but don't go into too much detail."
"Understood. Oh, darn, I guess now I have to buy you something sexy to wear to the grand opening next month." She nibbles on my ear, causing my dick to tense up from the sexual frustration.
"Don't even think about it. You've bought me too much already." I chuckle.
"Parker, I haven't even begun starting to buy you stuff."
"Really?"
I nod.
"Really."
As I hold her in my arms, I realize that she is exactly what I never knew I always wanted. Hell, she just might be who I always needed.
Chapter Seventeen
Nicole
Against Aaron's wishes, I left the penthouse. I told him that I had to take care of something at work. I was vague with the details because I plan to tell him the whole truth tonight after I leave the Daily Yorker Gazette. I just hope he can forgive me for the way I started our relationship. Being an independent woman my whole life, I hate to admit this, but I've become too attached to him to lose him now.
Thanks to Timothy, I look amazing wearing the Annelise dress. I have to look great since I decided that I am going to finally quit my crappy job today.
I've been so foolish to think that my male chauvinistic boss is going to promote me over the only male in our department anyway. The Dickweed is going to promote Miller-the-Filler whether I sabotage my relationship with Aaron or not. I just can't believe it took me this long to realize that.
I have no idea what I am going to do after that. Journalism has been my life, and I don't want to give it up. But after the harsh words I'm probably going to say to my asshole boss, I'll be blacklisted for sure and just might have to. I might care later, but right now, I don't give a fuck.
I walk into the building with my favorite accessory in hand…coffee. To my surprise, everybody is running around frantically. The whole place is a madhouse. I've never seen it this crazy. Papers are flying everywhere as everybody shouts and runs back and forth from their desks to the conference room. I find Tina and smack her arm, getting her attention.
"What the hell is going on here?"
"We finally got him."
My heart beats harder as a sharp pain stabs into my stomach.
"Got who? What are you talking about?"
"Aaron Hunter. Or should I say, Emmanuel Colon?"
I freeze, not able to move any part of my body. How the hell did they find that out? I only found that out last night…and my source was him. My hands start to tremble and I start to sweat profusely. I should call Aaron. I rummage through my purse, looking for my phone. Shit! I must have left it at Aaron's place.
Before I leave, I run into the conference room and spot the Dickweed himself with a smile stretched across his smug face from ear-to-ear. What a fucking asshole!
"Hey, Dickweed, I q
uit! You can go to Hell, you sexist asshole! And while you’re there, go fuck yourself!" I make sure to flip him the bird before I rush out of there and back onto the busy streets of Manhattan.
I run as fast as I can in my six-inch heels. Dammit, why did I pick today to look so damn fashionable?
I run like a madwoman past the Barnie's, the Starbucks, and the Dunkin' Donuts. So what if I use coffee places as geographical landmarks? That's how I find my way around this maze of a frantic city.
As I enter the lobby of his apartment building, I wave to the doorman in the lobby, who summons the special penthouse elevator for me. When the doors close, I tap my toe nervously against the elevator floor. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink. On the twenty-fifth toe tap, the doors open. I jump inside to find Aaron waiting on the sofa. His demeanor is sad and his head is bowed toward the floor. I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to the punch. He holds up my phone.
"Sherri called. She wanted to know if you got the dirt on me yet."
I can hear the hurt and distrust in his voice. The guilt stabs me in the gut like a knife.
"Is that all this was for you? A story? Is that all I am to you? Another byline in the fucking newspaper?"
He looks up at me. His eyes are full of disappointment and heartache. I can see his tears falling from them clear as day. He isn't hiding them like he did last night. And I put them there. I remain silent, not even sure if the truth would salvage what we had only moments ago. He was right, I should have never left the penthouse this morning.
"Is that where you went? To tell them all my real origin story? The one I told you last night in confidence? It's all over the news. Even Delores told me she can't put her positive spin on this one for me. How could you do this to me? Especially after knowing how much this election means to me. It's my own fault, I guess. I knew you were a reporter from the beginning. I just thought you were different from them. But in reality, sucking people dry, not caring about how your stories affect peoples’ lives is in your blood. And I should have known better. I still want you as the chairwoman of the foundation; it's only fair. But that's now all I want from you. Please, just leave me."
Double Agent Page 11
