by Paige North
Knowing that I’ll never even get within gaping distance of any more gems in my life, I decide to enjoy wearing these while I can and hope to heaven that I don’t drop anything down a restroom drain.
Just before seven o’clock, Clarice escorts me downstairs and through the lobby, where the doorman and a few upscale residents stare at me. They smile at the picture I present, and I feel as if I’m glowing while I move toward the limousine outside.
Much to my surprise, Travis is there waiting, dressed in a tuxedo and standing near the open backseat door.
“I thought you were sending a car for me,” I say.
“I decided to come with it.”
A blast of heat sweeps over my skin as he looks at me in my dress and jewels. His gaze holds the same fire that I’ve seen a few times when he’s been particularly hungry for me.
“Nova,” he murmurs, eyes darkening.
An odd shyness comes over me and I start to fidget with the skirt of my gown. Then I remember the lovely beading on it and stop. “Your staff did a good job making me over. You should give them raises.”
He frowns slightly before assuming his typical cryptic expression. “I doubt it was much work to shine you up.”
Is he getting tired of how I tend to put myself down sometimes? I think about how, so far, I’ve done everything right for him. I need to remember that.
He sweeps his arm toward the backseat.
I nod and smile. He takes my hand in his then helps me inside. My skin tingles just before he lets me go. As he shuts the door and moves around to the other side to get in, I look at my surroundings—the ice-filled bucket of champagne, the stereo and TV system, and the illuminated, mirrored bar. I spread my skirts around me, and Travis gets in and shuts the door, closing us in together.
As he expertly pops the cork on the champagne bottle and fills a flute I ask, “Can you tell me exactly where we’re going?”
“An event for animal rescue charities.”
I blink. “Do you have pets?”
“No.” At first it seems like he’s annoyed by the question, but then he continues. “At least, I never had one of my own. The family I lived with while growing up got rid of their dog early on and I…” He cuts himself off and concentrates on pouring champagne for himself. “If I had a dog now, it wouldn’t be fair to him. I’m rarely around, and a pet deserves better.”
As he drinks his champagne, he completely shuts down again, and I wonder if it’s because he let out a little part of himself to me just now. I also wonder if he realizes that he does have pets, and I’m but one of them.
He’s ice cold as he answers my question about where we’re going in a more direct way. “This is part of what I do, Nova. I go to benefits, mingle, give money to deserving charities. It’s always for a good cause, but every one of them has the same people running in the same circles. You’ll see tonight.”
Then he turns on the TV, drowning out any more serious moments between us. We drink our champagne until we complete the short yet traffic-ridden journey to the Plaza Hotel and The Grand Ballroom, where the event is being held. After we’re out of the limo, Travis bends his elbow, signaling that I should take his arm, and we make our way into the flush-lit room where a band is playing swanky music.
Travis steers me away from the cameras at the entrance, and we follow a hostess to our seats at a front table. After she leaves us with a saucy look at my date, he goes to pull out my chair as if not noticing her attention. I look around the table at our dinner mates and make a heroic effort to keep my jaw from hitting the floor.
I recognize every one of these people: a pop star and his partner, a Hollywood power couple, another billionaire who owns sports teams who’s sitting next to the tennis star he’s dating, and…
Holy smokes, I think the mayor of New York City is across the table, standing at his chair and fast-talking a group of slick men.
“Travis, buddy!” someone says behind us.
Before I can sit, I look over to find Jason Savage, the star of a series of car-chase blockbusters that keep breaking the summer bank.
I freeze on my feet as Travis greets him. I feel like one of the blushing sheer curtains that decorates the room—there but taken for granted.
Then Travis rests his hand on my back, and a yank of desire pulls at me. Still, I manage my best smile, knowing what’s about to happen.
“Jason,” Travis says, “this is Nova.”
He doesn’t say “my friend” or “the girl I’m currently putting up in one of my luxury apartments.” No, I’m just Nova, and I reach out my hand to shake Jason’s.
“Pleased to meet you,” I say.
He brushes a kiss on the back of my hand, then smiles wickedly at me. “Pleased to meet you. Damn, Travis, and I thought your taste in gems was already spectacular.”
I touch one of my earrings. Then I realize Jason isn’t talking about the jewelry. He’s talking about me. I flush like a teen seeing her first R-rated movie and glance at Travis.
Travis’s jaw twitches. “Yes, I prefer real gems that stand the test of time, while some prefer the trendy stuff that never lasts.”
Jason’s eyebrows lift. “Is that so?”
Travis’s gaze flicks toward Jason’s accompaniment. “That’s my opinion.”
I recognize Jason’s date immediately.
Candy Badham, who has about ten platinum songs to her credit. She and Jason were just photographed together on vacation in Spain, and she narrows her eyes at him—I think playfully. He winks at her as she turns to me.
“He needs a leash, that one,” she says in her British accent. Then she takes my hand, enveloping it in both of hers. “I’m Candy,” she says.
“Nova.” Oh my god, I’m on a first-name basis with Jason Savage and Candy Badham. These people are talking to me as if I’m one of them. It’s as if they think Travis and I are a real couple or something.
As Candy starts chatting with me about what’s on the menu for tonight, I almost begin to believe in this fairy tale Travis has created. Maybe it’s the dress that’s fooling them. Maybe it’s the jewelry. I don’t know, but Travis is watching me with an enigmatic expression as Candy teasingly asks Jason why he thinks I’m on the menu.
They kid with one another, and Travis slides his fingers down my arm to my hand, then squeezes my fingers as if in approval. I warm through and through, but when he lifts my hand to his lips then kisses my knuckles while looking into my eyes, flames consume me. Something is connecting us, a red-hot string that’s been lit to life. The searing aftershock travels through me.
I look at him as the music and chatter surround us. He looks at me.
Then the darkness returns to him, settling in his gaze as Jason grips his shoulder.
“If you don’t mind,” he says to Candy and me, “this guy and I have some catching up to do.”
And with that, Jason steals Travis. My “date” glances back at me, and for a moment I think he wants to stay.
I’m wrong, because he goes just as easily as he came.
I’m anxious about being left alone, but it turns out I needn’t be.
For some reason, Candy keeps talking to me, sitting us down, telling me about her trip to Spain. As cocktails are served, the rest of the table listens to her tales of debauchery and fun with Jason, and we laugh at her jokes. Everyone seems to think I’m something more to Travis than I am, but I don’t care. I’m going to enjoy the food, the company, the everything.
It isn’t until dinner arrives that Travis returns and takes his seat next to me, but he doesn’t look at me as he did before, with that intimate link between us. He’s withdrawn from me once again, and his shoulders have gone tense, his attitude colder than ever.
Although the caviar, lobster, and total ambiance are like nothing I’ve ever experienced, I wish I weren’t experiencing this. My nerves start to tumble as I wonder if I’ve done something wrong again.
By the end of the night, I’m saying genuine goodbyes to the people I�
�ve met, especially Candy.
“You remind me of the girls at home.” She says “gels” instead of “girls,” and she’s holding my hand. “I miss them. There’s something about you, Nova, that’s so very real.”
I don’t want to burst her bubble, so I only smile.
“Perhaps we could arrange something with Travis. Dinner?” Her gaze sparkles with mischief. “Or perhaps a spot of tea, my darling?”
“Tea.” I perk up, and no matter Travis’s mood, even something simple like tea, scones, and jam is enough to cheer me. “I’d love that.”
“Good. I’ll contact you after I get back from the next leg of my tour.”
And that’s when I remember that this is a passing fairy tale. Candy is a superstar and I’m a pauper at the ball. Candy thinks I’ll be around longer than my two-week agreement with Travis. But I say a fond goodbye to her anyway, and Travis is there when I turn around.
Unreadable. Mysterious. A gaze so deep green and unfathomable that I’ll never see all the way into it.
My pulse begins its confused thudding as he nestles his hand in the small of my back on our way out. His fingers are tense, just as they were yesterday when they clutched that armrest during my lap dance.
He’s busy acknowledging everyone who’s thanking him for his time and donations, and it’s only when we’re ensconced in the limo that he leans over to me, whispering.
“We’re going back to the apartment,” he says, “and once we’re there, I’m going to have my way with you.”
Chills run up and down my skin, both of excitement and anticipatory fright.
Tonight could be the night I lose everything to him.
Chapter 10
During the limo ride back to the apartment, I discover that the weather has turned. Sprinkles of rain mist the windows, blurring the view of the city traffic and sidewalks.
Travis is quiet, and while soft, moody music plays on the speakers, I lay back in my seat. Our only communication is the language of his fingertips as he absently skims them up my arm and back down, watching the hair on my skin rise, watching the goose bumps form at his mere touch.
I don’t know what to expect of him or his promised seduction, but I don’t ask. As usual, I’m too anxious that I’m going to say something dumb, and turned to the point where I already can’t think straight.
Once we arrive home, we make our way to the elevators. We’re not alone inside the elevator, because there’s a rich, elderly socialite who obviously knows of Travis and probably suspects what I am to him. She turns forward with her nose in the air, and Travis raised an eyebrow.
I shrug at him, and he reaches over to tuck a wave of hair back over my shoulder. Then, as if rethinking this, he drops his hand to his side as if nothing happened. The rest of the ride is silent until the woman disembarks on her floor.
What’s going through his mind? Will I ever know?
I’m not sure why I care so much since there are no strings here, nothing to bind us but a couple of enigmatic looks that I thought meant something, an understanding of sorts, even though the truth is that I understand absolutely nothing about him.
We come to the apartment, and after we get inside he softly shuts the door behind us.
“Nova.”
I recognize his tone by now—a subtle command—and I stop. Then I feel him come up behind me. He rests his hands on my upper arms, running his thumbs beneath my capped sleeves. I take in a shaking breath.
“Wait in your room,” he murmurs. “I’ll be right there.”
I nod, butterflies tracing patterns around the inside of my belly, tickling and torturing me. When I arrive in my room, I turn on a switch to a lamp. I shouldn’t undress without him to tell me what to do, because that’s all a part of his games with me. He likes instructing me. Instead, I stand in front of the window, which is smeared with moisture from the faint rain. Squares of light from the high-rise windows across the way are like glasses filled with liquor, warm and inviting.
The skin on the back of my neck tingles as I hear Travis’s footsteps on the carpet. The lamp that I turned on goes dark, then he moves to my side and opens the windows so the sound of echoing traffic filters into the room, along with the slight illumination from the streets. A gentle breeze toys with the curtains and blows on me. The drizzling rain has stopped, but it’s left behind a coolness that soothes the burning of my flesh.
Silently, he coasts his fingers to my rib cage, where there’s a hidden zipper for my gown. As he pulls down the fastening, it’s as if he’s undoing me, too. Air combs over my skin as he works the top of my dress off slowly, surely.
“Jason Savage and Candy Badham definitely took a liking to you,” he says quietly.
The gown falls to the floor around my feet. “They were nice. And they seem to be crazy about each other in a fun way.”
He sweeps his other hand down the front of my thigh and gets to his knee, working at one of my high-heeled sandal straps. He takes his time, and my heartbeat melts through me.
As he slips off my shoe, I place my hand on his shoulder so I don’t stumble. I finally ask,
“There’s a reason I bringing up Jason and Candy,” he says. “You should know that they’re like everyone else who attends these charity events—they’ll use you.” He undoes my other sandal. “There’s no one out there who does anything out of the goodness of their hearts. Remember that, Beautiful.”
He traces a finger along the instep of my foot, and his dark words stick with me. He’s warning me, isn’t he?
After all, he’s one of these people who attends the same events.
As he caresses me, it makes me all too aware that I’m standing here in my satin bra and panties, waiting for his next move, yearning for it.
He stands, looking down at me in the room’s only light from outside.
With an arrogance that has my breath catching, he undoes my bra from the back. It loosens over my breasts, and Travis pulls at a strap, allowing it to ease off of me. I let it fall to the floor, joining my gown.
The wind has already pebbled my nipples, and now Travis’s famished gaze adds an extra naughtiness to my arousal. I ache for his fingers and mouth to go where his eyes have gone.
He walks in back of me, and even though he doesn’t touch me, I can feel the heat of him brush down my back, painting me with another layer of desire. I hear him working off his jacket, and he tosses it onto a nearby antique chair. It’s followed by his tie.
Across the street, some lights in the high-rise windows turn off. I feel the tips of Travis’s fingers on the tops of my shoulders, and I hold back a groan as he skims down my back so lightly that my pussy tingles.
My lust makes me bold. “Travis, why pay for what a man like you shouldn’t have to pay for?”
He turns his hands so that his palms press against my skin, then he strokes them into my panties. He cups my bottom, squeezing gently. An electric zing pierces my clit, buzzing around it until my entire pussy is humming.
“I don’t have time to date,” he says.
He uses his fingers to coax my legs apart, and like the good student I am, I do it for him. He slides a finger through my folds, back to front then back again, and with a shock, I pitch forward, bracing my hands on the window sash. He doesn’t have to tell me that I’m already wet for him.
“You do learn fast, Nova,” he says.
Then he guides my panties all the way down, and I obediently step out of them. My sex is hungry for him to touch me again, to toy with me until I have another orgasm.
“Let me guess,” I say, my voice unsteady. “You don’t want any emotional strings or attachments, just a straightforward sexual exchange where you get what you want and your women get what they want.”
“It seems only fair that everybody gets what they want,” he says, and I can’t tell if he’s serious or not.
He walks around to the front of me, blocking the view out of the window with his entire, heart-thudding silhouette—broad shoulders, wide ches
t, all muscle under the shirt he’s started to unbutton. I’m dying to touch him, to feel his warm skin against mine.
“I do this a few times throughout any given year,” he says, “and that takes care of my needs. I can focus on business without having to worry about my personal life.”
But does he have one? And why would he tell me this much information about his needs unless he’s trying to get some kind of point across?
Don’t get attached, I think. That’s truly what he’s saying without actually saying it. Does he give this speech to all his women before he has his way with them?
I look up at his darkened face, all my systems on overdrive, pumping, juicing, priming me.
“Close your eyes,” he says, and after a moment, I do it.
I hear a sound that makes me think he’s opening a box. Soon, I feel him move in back of me again, then reach in front of me. When I open my eyes again, I see a necklace heavy with gems right before it presses against my chest. As he clasps it behind my neck, I touch the net of diamonds.
“Turn around, Nova.”
Still stunned, I face him, naked except for the jewelry. The electricity in my clit sizzles at the way he’s watching me—more than hungry, more than lustful. His gaze is fierce, desperate for something that he’s clearly trying so hard to hide.
He looks at me. I look at him. There’s no doubt he knows that I’m seeing something I shouldn’t see, just as I did at the party, and he shuts himself down, then takes a tense step back.
“Travis…”
But he’s already moving out of the room, away from me.
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