The Other Man (Rose Gold Book 1)

by Nicole French

  She stared at my cock. The tip of her tongue slipped out one side of her mouth and licked the corner. I closed my eyes. Fuck, if I watched that, this would be over before it even started. And then where would we be? Nina lying on the floor, banging on the walls, falling apart because I couldn’t keep it together?

  Not on my watch.

  So I looked down instead and found the hand she had slipped back into her underwear moving again.

  “You were saying,” I broke the silence. “You imagine us. Together. What…what exactly do you see?”

  Those silver eyes met mine like the tips of a spear.

  “You kiss me,” she said. “Like you did on the street that time. The first time, not in the hotel room.”

  “How was that?”

  “Like an animal. Like you hadn’t eaten for days. Like you were dying for a meal…and I was the sudden feast.”

  “You were,” I growled as my hand wrapped fully around my cock. I stroked it lightly, keeping a loose grip. “Then what? Do I take you to a hotel next?”

  “Oh, no,” she said, a small smile playing over her lips. “Then you take me to bed. Our bed.”

  My eyes opened. “The bed is ours, huh?”

  She smiled. “It’s my fantasy. I can make it ours if I want.”

  I didn’t want to tell her just how badly I wanted that single word to be true. That a part of me had wanted things that were ours since the moment I saw her. That I had imagined our wedding, our home, our kids. Our future.

  My hand slowed, so I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall. “And then what do I do?”

  “I don’t know, Matthew. What do you do then?”

  “Are we switching fantasies?”

  Her other hand dropped the cross and slipped back to palm her breast. Through the silk of her bra, she pinched her nipple. Just like I had.

  “Yes,” she said. “This is our bed. What do we do there?”

  “Baby, I don’t know if you really want to hear what I think about with you. You don’t want to know the dirty recesses of this mind.”

  Her eyes flashed. “Do you want me to have a nervous breakdown?”

  I frowned. “No, but—”

  “Then for God’s sake, Matthew, tell me how you would fuck me.”

  There it was again. That sharpness. That knife-edge. If I had allowed myself to truly love her, I would have told her straight—I wanted her to cut me again and again.

  “Well, for one, I’d pink up your ass quite a bit for swearing like that.”

  Her breaths immediately grew coarse. The outline of her fingers started to move a bit more quickly. “You don’t like it when I curse?”

  “I like it too much.”

  Another flash. “Fuck.”

  I shuddered from head to toe. My head knocked against the wall, and my hat fell to the ground. “Say that again.”

  “Fuck.”

  My hand picked up its pace. So did hers.

  “You like it when I’m a bit dirty, Matthew?”

  “If I remember correctly, you’ve gotten a lot dirty with me, doll.”

  Her mouth spread into an impish smile. “So I have.” She glanced down at her chest. “In the park, remember?”

  “How could I forget? It was only a few weeks ago.”

  “You like to mark a woman, don’t you? Make her belong to you.”

  “I like to mark one woman.”

  Fuckin’ Christ, her nipples were practically pointing at me. She was playing with one side viciously, pinching and pulling. Finally, I couldn’t help it. I reached over and yanked the silk fabric down so her breasts were bared in the hazy yellow light.

  “That’s better,” I said. “The scene of the crime, so to speak.”

  Her hand was working furiously lower, but the one at her breast paused, then drifted across her chest, playing over the white silk expanse. “You were here. And here. And here.”

  Her hand drifted down again, and then grabbed her other nipple and pulled roughly enough to make herself hiss.

  “Fuck, that’s hot.” I couldn’t help it. And you know what? She deserved to know.

  Her grin would have beat the Cheshire cat’s for most satisfied. “Let me see it,” she whispered. “I want to see you do it again.”

  “You want to see me come?”

  She nodded.

  By some fuckin’ miracle, I managed not to. “You first, baby.”

  She didn’t even answer—that’s how close she was. Instead, she just gazed at my moving hand, bit her lip, and pinched her clit in the same way that I had all those months ago. Was she…was she pretending it was me?

  “Am I doing that?” I wondered aloud. “In your mind, baby. Are those my fingers on your clit? On your breast?”

  Her eyes met mine like arrows. “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, God, yes!”

  Her body began to shake all over again, but this time, from desire, not fear. My hand slowed—I could have joined her, but I wanted to enjoy it. I wanted to watch. And I didn’t want to miss a second of this woman’s pleasure.

  Ever again.

  When at last she came down from her high, Nina slumped against the elevator’s wall, gazing at me through half-lidded pleasure.

  “It’s your turn, my love,” she said softly as her hands came to rest in her lap. “Now, what do you need?”

  You. All of you. Not just for now, but forever. For the rest of our fuckin’ lives.

  “A kiss,” I said.

  Her eyebrows rose. “A…”

  I understood her trepidation. And maybe her surprise too. On the one hand, kisses were some of the most intimate things you could do. Some people said kissing wasn’t cheating, but I knew exactly how I felt when I saw Nina’s lips on another man’s, and it didn’t fuckin’ matter to me that I was the one who had no claim.

  A kiss was intimacy. A kiss was passion. A kiss was raw, pure, emotion.

  And for the first time with Nina, I wasn’t just taking it. I was asking.

  Her mouth, those rose petal lips, spread into another satisfied smile. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought she was drunk. Fuck, we hadn’t even touched each other, and we were both high as kites.

  Slowly, Nina made her way onto her knees. She took my face gently between her palms.

  “Just one,” she said softly. “One more.”

  I closed my eyes. I was this close to begging her again. Just one? It would never be enough.

  But tonight, it would have to be.

  Nina closed her eyes. Her thumbs stroked the sides of my face. Then she kissed me, lips open and full. Her tongue slipped in and twisted delicately around mine.

  It didn’t take more than a few seconds, but that was all I needed. I was primed and ready, and as she kissed me, I finally took my release. For a few short seconds, it really did feel like all the energy of Manhattan was throbbing through my hand, through my cock. I came into my palm, slamming my head against the wall even as Nina’s teeth found my lower lip and bit. Hard.

  “Fuck,” I whispered as I slowly regained normal consciousness.

  She bit my lower lip again—lightly this time—and pressed her forehead to mine. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” I was still catching my breath, but I had enough wherewithal to speak.

  “For keeping me sane.”

  I opened my mouth to ask “at my own expense?” but before I could, the lights in the elevator blinked on, and the blare of two voices jerked both of us out of our daze.

  “Mrs. Gardner? Mr. Zola? Are you in there?”

  “Hey, Zola, it’s Derek. Are you and Mrs. Gardner all right?”

  Nina stiffened and rolled off me while she put herself back together. I quickly cleaned up with my handkerchief, then crawled over to the console and pushed the call button.

  “Yes, it’s us,” I said. “Can you get us the fuck out of here?”

  “The FDNY should be here in about ten minutes,” Derek said. “Just sit tight. I’ll let you know when they’re here. If th
e system goes down again, don’t worry. We’re taking care of it.”

  I pressed the button. “Thanks.”

  The intercom went dead again. I moved back to Nina and slumped on the floor next to her. She stared at me for a moment, but before I could say anything, she surprised me by crawling onto my lap and wrapping her arms tightly around my neck.

  “Don’t say anything,” she said, her face buried behind my ear. “Not yet. Not until they come back.”

  I did open my mouth to speak, but realized she was right. There was nothing else to say. When New York’s bravest finally did arrive, we’d have to pretend nothing happened. She’d disappear into the big black Escalade waiting at the curb. I’d disappear into another subway tunnel that would take me back to my side of the city. Maybe tomorrow we’d meet again, one last time, or maybe we wouldn’t.

  So instead of trying to tell her sweet things she or I wanted to hear, or argue with her some more about what could or couldn’t happen between us, for once in my damned, sorry life, I just let it be, like I had told her to do once before. I wrapped my arms around her warm, thin frame and rocked her slowly at the bottom of the car. I shut my eyes and went back to imagining for just a few more seconds that I wouldn’t have to let go.

  That this woman was actually mine.

  That I wasn’t just the other man.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I got ready for the sting at Kate’s shop instead of managing it myself in Brooklyn. It came at the price of having Joni and Marie cooing over every damn lapel and cufflink, but Kate had a new double-breasted tux steamed for me, “on loan only,” given the Gucci piece had cost her a small fortune.

  “That’s earmarked for a premiere next month. I’m going to need it cleaned and then re-steamed for the event,” she informed me as she brushed a lint roller over my shoulders. “You break it, you buy it. So don’t break it.”

  “I could have worn my regular, you know,” I said with a smirk, for which I received a withering glare.

  “You cannot go to the Met Gala looking like an amateur, Mattie.”

  “I resent that.”

  “I don’t care if you’re working. If someone finds out I let my brother go to fashion prom looking like every kid at homecoming, I’ll lose my reputation.”

  She finished brushing off my shoulders, then stood back to look over her work. She had gussied the tuxedo up with some elements that would fit the punk-oriented theme of the night—cufflinks that looked more like safety pins, a tartan bow tie that matched the pocket square. I didn’t want more than that—after all, I was there to blend in.

  “There,” she said with a final brush of my shoulders. “You look like a prince. Now you just need a Cinderella to meet at the ball.”

  Behind her, Joni and Marie melted in a chorus of sighs as I pinned a red rose to the pocket.

  “Too bad you couldn’t take Annie,” Marie said.

  “Oh my God, they would look so good together!” Joni agreed.

  I didn’t reply as I examined myself in the mirror. After all, this wasn’t play. It was work.

  I was feeling that now more than ever.

  “Holy shit,” Derek muttered as we walked up the stairs to the museum proper from the Costume Institute offices. With every step, we could hear the din of the party gaining momentum as the guests continued to arrive.

  “He’s not here yet,” I said. “Eric’s mom already texted him. She’s still waiting for Carson to pick her up.”

  “Think he will?”

  I knew what he meant. Unlike yesterday, when the place was still half scaffolding and service vans, now the museum was covered with people. Press, paparazzi, fans. Camera flashes I could see from five blocks away. Music that was blasting louder than any concert at the Garden as some of the biggest celebrities on the planet paraded down Fifth Avenue to take the long walk in front of the cameras.

  And this had already been going on for hours.

  Worry was written all over my friend’s face—would he and his team be able to manage an arrest with this kind of chaos? And would our target even show once he saw the clamor?

  I shrugged. “He confirmed with her last night. And the de Vrieses seem to think he likes a spectacle, particularly since he seems to think he’s untouchable. So we have to plan like Carson will be here.”

  We pushed through the doors into the museum. At the other end of the long hall, I could see glimpses of some of the most glamorous people in the world sparkling as they entered the main exhibit. Their voices carried along with the band outside.

  Derek smirked. “You look very nice. Like Prince Charming.”

  “Fuck you.” I straightened my bow tie. “You look like Peter Pan’s shadow.” Like me, Derek had been told in no uncertain terms that he and any other members of his team needed to be dressed like security, in all-black suits.

  “Let’s hope I can fly if Carson does,” Derek replied. “Yo, I never did ask what happened in the elevator with the Ice Queen yesterday. The two of you took off like a shot after they finally got you out.”

  I kept my eyes trained straight ahead. “Nothing happened. I’m sure you can imagine exactly how much we had to say to each other.”

  “Is she as shallow as the rest of them seem?”

  “They seem shallow?” I got a lot of things from the de Vrieses. Complicated. Moody. Entitled. But shallow? Not so much.

  “I guess you wouldn’t think so. You like all this fancy shit.” Derek gestured toward the art hanging around us. “But don’t you think it seems like a bit much? Big fancy party just to raise a bunch of money and look at other people’s clothes?” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I don’t get it.”

  I shrugged again. It wasn’t really something I could explain. I probably wasn’t ever going to pay to go into this exhibit myself, but I understood why some would.

  “She’s not shallow,” was all I said as we met the security guard at this corner of the party. “Beyond that, I don’t know. But none of them are shallow. And especially not her.”

  Derek didn’t reply—we had approached the split where I’d enter the exhibit proper.

  “All right,” he said. “I’m heading to security downstairs, and you’re supposed to blend in with the other bodyguards in the main banquet hall. You got your piece?”

  I pointed at the coiled, flesh-colored wire connected to the earpiece I’d been given, along with every other officer helping with tonight’s sting. “I’ll let you know if I see him.”

  Derek nodded. “All anyone has to do is get the fucker alone and out of the crowds. That’s the deal we made with Cora. Just let me know if you see us doing anything wrong.”

  I tapped my fist to his. “See you in a few hours.”

  “My man. Have fun at the ball, Cinderella.”

  I flashed my security badge at the guard, then followed the path Cora and the museum director had designated as my route into the event. Through a couple of marked-off exhibits, around the Greco-Roman wing, and then through a back door that would lead me around to the zone designated for security.

  And found myself face to face with Nina de Vries.

  Every time I saw her, she looked like a vision, but tonight was a whole different story. Her dress was unlike anything I’d ever seen—to meet the requirements of the theme, “London Calling,” she wore a vaguely punk-inspired floor-length dress made completely out of chain mail. Each tiny silver link clung to her lithe body, shimmering in the light with every small movement. Her blonde hair was woven back in a thick braid from the crown of her head, but otherwise the only bit of color was the slash of red at her lips and the thick bracelet made of chains and tartan around one wrist. She looked like an otherworldly goddess. Like one of her Viking ancestors on the eve of battle.

  The question was, battle with whom?

  “Matthew.” Her voice was a breath, yet still audible despite the clamor of people behind her.

  I stared. “Ah, hey, doll.”

  I looked over Nina’s shoulder bef
ore saying anything else that might compromise her. Or me. But there was no one in her wake. No other man but me. And, of course, the occasional chatter in my ear.

  “Calvin didn’t come.”

  I raised a brow. “Oh?”

  Her shoulders moved up and down in a general shrug. “He said he had some kind of urgent work to do tonight. I really don’t know.”

  “Or care?” I couldn’t help myself. Dick.

  Again, Nina shrugged, but her eyes shone as she looked me over. “You look very nice,” she said honestly, reaching out shyly to pull on one of my lapels. “This is different from the one you own. Kate’s handiwork again?”

  “How does she know about your sister?” Derek wondered in my ear.

  I nodded to Nina and ignored Derek. The electricity from her fingers penetrated the layers of formalwear, though the sadness in her voice tempered it some. We couldn’t help but touch, even in a room full of people. I fingered the bracelet she wore on her wrist, a gesture to the theme. Upon closer look, the chain and plaid was speckled with diamonds.

  “We match,” I murmured. The tartan was the same exact pattern as my tie and pocket square.

  “So we do.”

  “Did you and Jane plan it?” Was I so desperate to wish she had?

  She shook her head. “It’s just…kismet, I suppose.”

  Kismet. Right now fate seemed downright cruel.

  “Well, you look…” I shook my head. I still didn’t have words for how she made me feel. “I’m speechless. Really.”

  Nina hid a smile behind one hand. It took everything I had not to smack it away.

  “Don’t hide your smile, baby,” I told her. “You don’t have to be happy all the time, but when you are, you shine.”