by K. A. Linde
Then, why was she swooning over his brother? Because he had broad shoulders with tattoos and a smirk? She really needed little else.
Why the fuck was Alexa at the beach with her boy toy this week? That was so inconvenient. She should have known that Chyna was going to have a hot guy melt-down.
Chyna whipped out her compact and reapplied a coat of lip gloss. She already knew that she looked good. Some guys had been checking her out while she was shopping with Frederick. Still, she wanted to double check. She didn’t want to look sloppy the first time she hung out with her boyfriend’s brother. That was all, right?
God, she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t be attracted to John. It was out of the question. She wasn’t like her parents—she didn’t cheat! Inside, she preferred to just not get attached. If she was going to be with Adam, then she was going to fucking be with him. It didn’t mean she couldn’t look at and admire his brother—what girl wouldn’t?—but that was where the line was drawn. She could eye-fuck John and his goddamn tattoos but nothing else. This would be an exercise in self-control. Lord, help us all!
Chyna replaced her mirror into her purse and immediately began chewing on her glossy bottom lip. She could do this. Yep. She could totally do this.
“Hey.” She heard someone call behind her.
She turned away from the desk toward the entrance to the locker rooms.
Oh, holy hell! Fuck! Really? How could one man be so attractive? She couldn’t get past that strong jaw, those hazel eyes, and those fucking shoulders. When did he have time to build that Adonis body? All she knew about him was that he worked all the time, and now, she wanted to know everything. Did he actually have that good of taste in clothing, or did he have a personal assistant? Those dark-wash jeans fit him a bit too well, and the green button-up shirt mostly hidden beneath the grey pea coat was outstanding. If he didn’t have someone dress him and he actually had a fashion sense well enough to look like he had walked out of a Barneys catalog, she might die. She would take two, please!
Had she responded to his welcome? She just smiled, deciding it would only sound dumb at this point.
He ran a hand back through his still damp hair and returned her smile. “Adam takes forever to get ready. Thought I’d come out here, so you didn’t have to wait alone,” John said, walking over to where she was leaning against the desk.
“Thanks.”
She hated her natural instincts right now. She knew she could take him home in a heartbeat. If this were anyone else in any other situation, he would already be in her penthouse, and her tongue would be tracing those tattoos.
“So, what do you do?” John asked, smiling warmly.
“Uh…I’m in between work right now,” she said with an unapologetic shrug. “I try not to define my life by my career. Instead, I just enjoy living it.”
“To define is to limit. I get that,” he said with that smirk.
“Something like that. What do you do exactly that has you leaving for Japan?”
He shrugged as if this was the most boring subject, but he had brought it up.
“International business. I negotiate business transactions overseas for my clients who want to expand their enterprise globally.”
“Huh, sounds like a lot of work,” Chyna commented. She had never wanted to work that much in her life.
“Yeah, it can be. I’m good at languages though. I’d love to be stateside a little bit more, and I’m working on bringing some global companies to the states, but I can’t really complain.”
She wasn’t complaining either. A successful businessman who spoke multiple languages and had tattoos? Where the fuck did he come from?
“Yeah, it must be hard to be away from your family and your girlfriend all the time,” she said, looking up into his hazel eyes. She knew it was a bad line, and he might even see through it, but damn, she couldn’t help herself. She was curious.
He chuckled softly, glancing away. Oh, he had picked up on it all right.
“No girlfriend for me. Not much time, and I’m picky,” he said, returning his eyes to hers.
He could afford to be picky. She cleared her throat and broke eye contact. Keep it together.
“Adam’s always been the girlfriend type anyway.”
“I noticed,” she said with a smile. Adam was an excellent boyfriend. So nice. Too nice. Too good for her. “I’m just getting used to it.”
“To Adam or a boyfriend?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m more of a party girl myself.”
“I can see that.”
What did that mean? And why did it look like he could appreciate a party girl
“When you grow up in Manhattan, it’s just a way of life.”
“I can see that, too.”
Adam jogged out of the locker room then. “So, where are we going?”
Chyna broke away from John. When had they gotten so close, and why did it feel like they gravitated to each other?
Somewhere with a bar,” she answered immediately.
Adam laughed, pulling her close and kissing her lightly on the lips. “Whatever you want.”
It was a promise.
4
Past
They exited to the garage where Adam’s hybrid sat waiting for them. She slid into the passenger seat, feeling all the more awkward. She’d had her town car for as long as she could remember. She didn’t even know how to drive.
Adam veered into traffic as he directed them across town to a grill he swore by. He pulled into a line for a parking garage, and she tried not to roll her eyes. She hated waiting.
“Just valet the car,” John said with a clear hint of impatience.
Finally, someone who understood!
“It costs more,” Adam responded, not moving.
“But, it’s faster.”
“By only a few minutes,” Adam said, still not budging.
She had never seen him so stubborn. Usually, he was relatively compliant.
“Come on, Adam,” she said, reaching out and touching his arm. “I’ll pay the fare.”
John muttered, “You have only a few years in which to live really, perfectly, and fully…time is jealous of you.”
“Always quoting Wilde,” Adam said with a shake of his head.
This seemed pretty common between them, and for some reason, it got Adam to move the car.
“Always,” John agreed. “The man knew what he was talking about.”
“He was a philandering, flamboyant extremist who saw the world through rose-colored lenses of beauty,” Adam quipped testily.
“Perhaps you should live no other way,” John said with a smirk as Adam pulled in front of the valet.
“Wasn’t he gay?” Chyna asked.
Both guys started laughing at once. Chyna missed the joke.
“Yeah, he was,” John said.
Was she misreading the situation entire? Was John gay?
Chyna looked over her shoulder, turning around in the car to peek at John, who was still chuckling at her. Nope. No way. Not with that look. She could pick out desire like she had a fucking radar.
Adam handed the keys to the guy at the entrance and took a slip from him. The trio walked into the restaurant, and they were instantly ushered to a table. Chyna took off her long black pea coat and handed it to someone to hang for her. Both boys seemed to appreciate her figure, clad in a short V-cut sweater dress that hugged her curves like a glove. She couldn’t have picked a much better outfit for the occasion.
“You look great,” Adam said, kissing her cheek and running his hand across the small of her back before sitting.
“Thanks,” she said, seating herself across from him.
John pulled out a chair and sat down between them.
“I wish I’d known you had the weekend off,” Adam said, turning to his brother. “I would have taken some time off, too.”
“They were impressed with my latest find, so they gave me the time. Wasn’t expecting it to happen.”
�
�I don’t know why you don’t take all those clients of yours and start your own company. You’re too good to be where you are,” Adam told him.
“I’m doing perfectly fine, and anyway, the Global International name is well-known.”
“Wait, Global!” Chyna gasped.
“See,” John said, gesturing to Chyna.
“My mother worked through Global for a while when they were negotiating the Corsa fashion line,” she explained.
Global International was a huge conglomerate that demanded and received results. Her mother had worked with a partner, of course, but it was rumored that all of the representatives were incredible.
“My point exactly. Anyone who is anyone comes through Global. I’m good right where I am.”
“Who knew a Harvard MBA would get you there?” Adam said with clear admiration in his voice.
Chyna’s ears perked up. Harvard? Was this guy for real?
“God, you sound like Mom,” John said, running a hand back through his hair.
“Someone’s got to do it. You hardly see her.”
“I hardly see anyone,” John said, just as the waiter arrived.
They all ordered drinks, and Chyna couldn’t wait to get her hands on her martini.
“Do you want me to be like Mom and tell you that you could have gone to Harvard too if you hadn’t followed in Dad’s footsteps to bum-fuck-nowhere liberal arts college?” John teased.
Chyna blushed for her boyfriend. She knew he was smart, and he probably could have a better job than where he worked at a small, private architectural company.
Adam just shrugged, unaffected on the outside. She wondered if he was seething on the inside. She would be.
“I still could, but then I’d have to take your claim as the perfect son. I’d hate to do that to you.”
John laughed good-naturedly. “Touché. King’s to you, Fernand.”
Adam laughed even harder, but Chyna didn’t have any clue what they were talking about. Who was Fernand?
They clearly spoke their own language. She didn’t have any siblings and couldn’t comprehend a connection like that. The closest thing she had found was with Alexa. Chyna wished she was here. Alexa was the smart one, even if she was terrible with relationships. She could clue her in on what the fuck they were talking about. Chyna chewed on her lip and prayed for her martini to arrive quickly.
“Do you like movies, Chyna?” John asked just as the drinks arrived.
She sucked down a large gulp before answering. “I go to premieres sometimes.”
John quirked a smile at Adam. “Where did you find her?” He stuck his thumb out at Chyna.
Had she done something wrong?
“You’d never believe me if I told you,” Adam said.
“Try me.”
Adam shrugged, leaning one elbow on the table. He took a drink of his beer before answering. “She was drugged in a bar, and I kept some jerk from taking her home,” Adam told him. “Her friend showed me to her car, and we made sure she was all right. Everything else is history.”
He winked at her from across the table, and Chyna smiled. She liked the story. It was romantic in its own way.
“Our little knight in shining armor. What’s your thing with saving chicks like that? Didn’t that happen with Christina, too?” John asked.
Um…who was Christina?
“Yeah, it did,” Adam replied, and then took another sip of his beer.
“Who’s Christina?” Chyna piped up, raising her eyebrows.
“My ex-girlfriend,” Adam responded slowly, looking at John, who was hiding a smile behind his own pint.
Chyna did not like that at all.
“And, the same thing happened to her?” she asked.
How come she didn’t know this? Seemed like a pretty big misstep especially considering how they had met.
“Uh…yeah. Well, not the same thing. I didn’t save her. I just took her home when I saw her getting sloppy.” Adam was practically squirming.
Chyna would have liked it if she’d had any clue about this Christina before this moment.
“That’s strange. When did you guys break up?” she asked, honestly curious.
“Chyna…” Adam said, reaching for her hand.
“It doesn’t matter. It was couple of months before I met you,” he continued.
“That’s pretty soon,” she observed. “Why did you break up?”
“Can we talk about this later?” Adam asked, glancing uncomfortably at John and the rest of the restaurant.
“It’s not a big deal,” she said with a shrug, trying to keep her cool. She didn’t get the whole ex thing, and she was trying to understand it. She wasn’t a rebound. She knew that at least.
“Fine,” he agreed reluctantly. “She moved to D.C., for a job as a lobbyist and didn’t want a long-distance relationship. It was mutual. Long distance doesn’t work.”
“Huh,” Chyna muttered, trying to take another drink and then realizing she had finished the whole thing.
Yeah, long distance sucked, but she didn’t think it was completely out of the realm of possibility. She had never considered it, but Alexa was making it work. It felt like a cop-out excuse.
“I’m going to get another,” she muttered. “Do either of you need anything?”
John shook his head, and Adam just sighed. She took that as a no and walked to the bar. She knew that she could have flagged down a waiter, but she wanted to process.
Chyna waited for the bartender to notice her. It didn’t take long. She had another martini in hand as quick as the bartender could shake it. She wasn’t even sure why she was worried. This wasn’t like her. He wasn’t with Christina now, and that was all that mattered. But, her Italian roots were rearing their ugly jealous head at the most inopportune time. She just felt too unsettled with having just found out about the situation, and she couldn’t regain her calm. So, she did what she always did. She drank.
With her back to the table, she didn’t see Adam come up behind her, but she felt his strong, capable arms wrap around her waist, pulling her against him.
“What’s gotten into you?” he murmured softly against her skin, kissing her bare neck.
“I don’t like not knowing things,” she told him, melting easily into his touch.
“Christina doesn’t matter to me, Chyna. That’s why it never came up. I’m not hiding things from you,” he said turning her around.
God, he was so fucking sincere. How could you not believe that face?
He leaned down and brushed his nose against hers. “You look beautiful.”
“Don’t try and sweet talk me,” she said, brushing back against his nose. “I’m too susceptible.”
He chuckled, kissing her pouty lips. “Come back to the table. I’m starving.”
“Caveman,” she responded, slapping his arm lightly.
“Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder.”
“Oh, please do,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
Adam laughed again, shaking his head at her. “Come on. I don’t get to see my brother too much. I think you’ll like him.”
If he only knew.
5
Present
After nearly an hour of detailed work on her hair and makeup, the artists working on her finally left. She stood in the office with that big fucking desk in nothing but sparkly nude pasties and a seamless nude thong. She felt completely exposed, and she loved every minute of it.
The makeup artists had brushed a fine glittery powder across her entire body, and it felt silky smooth to the touch. Her long black hair was hanging down her back, framing her face in big swooping supermodel curls. The makeup was totally natural, but it made her innate beauty shine. It was a look only a true expert could have extracted out of various bottles, tubes, and containers. All that remained was what hung inside the black garment bag.
Giselle sauntered into the room.
“What are you doing here?” Chyna asked her. She was sure that Giselle would h
ave been trying to help Marco run the show.
“Marco,” she told her, walking to the black bag. Chyna rolled her eyes needing no further explanation.
“Where are my assistants? I can’t get into my dress alone,” Chyna asked.
“I am your assistant.”
Chyna’s mouth fell open. Giselle was so proud. She only worked for Marco specifically. That damn man!
“Well, get your ass over here!” Giselle snapped her fingers twice.
Chyna hurried over to her. Why would Marco have Giselle help her into the dress? It wasn’t his style.
As Chyna was about to ask, Giselle unzipped the bag, and Chyna’s mouth dropped open. That was not her dress. Her dress was long with flowing shades of purple sequins that draped artfully across her body in a pattern resembling waves crashing in the ocean. It was a one-of-a-kind designed just for her by Marco himself. It was crafted specifically for her body. She had practiced in it and completed a full photo shoot in the dress. She had never seen this one.
“I hope Marco knows what he’s doing,” Giselle whispered.
It was the first time Chyna had ever heard her doubt him.
Fifteen minutes later, when Chyna was secure in Marco’s new creation, she made it to the backstage area. Her dress was pinned and hidden beneath a long white robe that was embroidered with her monogram beneath Marco’s logo. Brigitte, Giovanna, and Ravenna flitted around her, anxious to begin the show. She couldn’t even address them. She was too nervous. She had never been afraid of anything, but she had never been put into a dress like this with no forewarning and no practice for a production that was imperative to her career.
Marco’s introductory words rang through the speakers. It was immediately followed by a thunder of applause. He was a raw talent with a booming voice that was as soothing, seductive, and stimulating as a Siren. He was in his natural element, charming an audience. She could see him in her mind’s eye, gorgeous and tall. Intoxicating with a smile, he could cast a spell with those dark, dreamy eyes.
Assistants lined up models in order while a famous American singer began her latest number-one hit to open the show. Marco appeared backstage an instant later, pushing people into place, adjusting hair, and demanding overall perfection.