by Ava Harrison
“Had sex?”
My cheeks grow warm. “Well . . . yeah.”
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea. You seem exhausted. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m not porcelain. You can do it.”
“I can definitely do it.”
I roll my eyes. “Prove it.”
Hand in hand, we enter the lobby of The Lancaster. This place is like nothing I have ever seen.
Standing tall, the building has large windows lining the front façade. The Lancaster faces Fifth Avenue and has a perfect unobscured view of Central Park. Prime real estate in Manhattan. I can’t even begin to estimate how much this one property is worth, let alone the rest of the catalogue that comprises of The Lancaster Empire.
It’s a bold statement, but as we walk through the pristine marble and glass lobby all the way to the private elevator that takes us to the penthouse suite, the message is clear. He’s telling the world I’m his. That we are together. That he is taking me back to his place. It’s funny to say that. We aren’t going back to his place. We are going back to his hotel, The Lancaster.
As much wealth and opulence as I am expecting, I’m not prepared for what I’m greeted with. Not able to speak from pure awe, I take in the luxurious yet modern space. I know Spencer is rich, but this is a whole other realm of opulence.
“Is this where you live?” I ask as Spencer turns the key of a penthouse hotel suite.
“I don’t actually keep a residence.”
I turn my face away from the door and stare up at him.
“I don’t understand. So where is it you stay?” I ask, the confusion evident in my voice.
“I’m never anywhere long enough.” He shrugs as he pushes the door open.
“So you stay in your hotel?”
Spencer nods as he steps aside so that I can enter. The suite is magnificent. It doesn’t even look like a hotel room at all. More like a luxurious apartment. Spencer takes my hand in his and he leads me down a small romantically lit hallway that opens up into a grand living room that boasts floor to ceiling windows on the far wall and on the other is a set of French doors leading into the bedroom.
“Come on, I’ll make us something to drink.” I take a seat on the couch and silence descends as he pours me a glass of scotch and hands it over to me.
“It is different, isn’t it?”
“What is?” he asks as he lifts the glass to his mouth and takes a sip.
“Being here in New York. Together.” For some reason I’m nervous. He gestures to the glass in my hand.
“Try it. It will loosen you up.”
“Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Hey, you’re the one who asked to come here.”
“So, you don’t want me?”
“Olivia, hear me now. It’s taking every last bit of energy for me not to rip your clothes and fuck you already. To be so goddamn deep inside you that tomorrow you won’t be able to sit without knowing I was there.”
“So, why don’t you?” I purr.
“Because I’m trying hard to show you I’m all in. That this is more than just sex for me. That I want you. All of you.”
“Okay.”
He steps toward me, his hand extends out until his finger sweeps lightly against my jaw. “Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“So, let’s have our first ‘date’ in the states. Do you want to eat?”
“I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Shit, why didn’t you tell me? I would have insisted you eat before you saw Lindsey.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” he huffs out. “You need to eat.”
“I can stand to lose—”
“Stop right there. You don’t need to lose shit. And I don’t give a damn what that fucking photographer said. You’re perfect just the way you are.”
I know I’m not, but I don’t need Spencer lecturing me right now. I want to enjoy the time I have with him. “So, dinner? Since you own the hotel, do we get room service?”
“Since I own the hotel, you can get anything you want even if it’s not in the hotel.”
“Show off.”
“You know it, baby.”
Hearing him use the moniker makes me feel light, airy. It stretches throughout my whole body until I feel I can take flight.
After dinner, we sit on the couch, two glasses of wine on the table. His right hand reaches for my left and our fingers interlock. “Want to watch a movie?” he asks as his fingers gently skim my knuckles and causes me to shiver.
“Can we do that?”
“Of course we can. We can do anything you want.”
I turn my head to him and cock it. “Really?”
“Again, did you miss the part where I own this hotel?” He winks as a smirk spreads across his face. “And this is The Lancaster. We are known for our impeccable service.”
“So, if I wanted to watch a movie . . .” I trail off, purposely letting him finish my sentence.
“We’d get it.”
“And if I wanted popcorn?”
“Again, we’d get it. And Olivia, if you want those little candies all girls order on dates—”
“Jujubes.”
“Yes, those. We’d get those too. Again, ‘The Lancaster,’” he air quotes. “Anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“And that, too. But not for all the guests. That’s limited just for you.”
“Good. I don’t like to share,” I say
“I don’t share either.” His voice is serious and I notice there’s something in his eyes, something I can’t place. It’s lingering there like a dark cloud. Threatening to rain. “Come here.” He pulls me close to him on the couch and I tilt my head up to welcome his kiss. A gentle one. When he pulls away, I pout.
“I promised you a real first date.”
“We are in one of the nicest hotels in all of Manhattan, in what must be the most expensive suite. This isn’t like a real first date.”
“Just pretend we aren’t. Pretend we just met and we just started dating.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be too hard.”
“You’re impossible,” he says, and I laugh.
“Fine. I’m not a Jujubes girl, I want Reese’s Pieces. Actually, no. I want hot popcorn with M&M’s poured in the bowl so they get warm and crack a little.”
“You’re difficult, too.”
“I believe the term is high maintenance.”
“I believe you’re correct. But lucky for you and me this is one of the simpler demands.”
“I can’t even imagine.”
Spencer picks up the phone to dial his butler, runs off our list of supplies, then together we set out to choose a movie. Once settled, he pulls me into his lap and we eat popcorn and act like a couple of high school kids. It’s the most fun and the most relaxed I’ve felt in the last few years.
Halfway through the movie, and with absolutely no notice, Spencer grabs my shirt at the bottom and pulls it over my head. He sucks in a breath as my breasts come into view.
“Sorry, this might not have been a good idea. I’m liable to ravage you. It’s been too long.”
“Please, ravage away. But while you’re ravaging, take your time.” I wink.
He removes my bra, tossing it aside. Taking my nipples in his fingers, he gently massages, drawing a moan from my lips.
“That feels so amazing.”
He smirks at my words. “You haven’t felt anything yet.” His soft lips take one into his mouth, sucking and massaging. Everything about his touch is gentle, yet rough. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against my skin. I feel his warm breath, his soft lips, and his hands roaming all over me. It’s both pleasure and ecstasy. It fuels a fire until we’re grasping and panting. Until we’re both desperately trying to hold on to our wits and not overdo it, but the fuse has been lit and the fire begs to be unleashed.
And it is.
The last week has been incredible. Being with
Olivia has been incredible. I honestly never thought I’d feel this way, but it’s so easy. If only all things in life were this effortless. Instead, I’ve been sitting in my office for hours, and not only do I want to bash my head against the desk, but I also want to fire everyone in sight. The Barcelona deal is still not closed. Not only is everyone dragging their goddamn feet, but another property I’ve been looking at seems to be outbid.
That makes two. Manchester, and now a property in St. Bart’s that I’ve been eyeing. I had every intention of flying down to finish that deal, but this morning I got a phone call saying it was no longer available. This is a massive red flag that someone is purposely going after properties I’m looking at.
The door to my office opens and Jack walks in. Jack’s official title is Head of Security for Lancaster Holdings, Inc., but I refer to him as the man who can find out anything. And this morning at six o’clock Eastern Standard Time, I tasked him to find out who is going after my business.
“I got the information you were looking for,” he says, and I look down at my watch.
“Took you five hours. You’re slacking,” I joke. This might be a new record.
“I don’t think they were trying to hide who they were, boss.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”
“The property in Manchester and the St Bart’s property were both purchased by the same holding company.”
“Okay.”
“And it’s obvious they wanted you to find out.”
“Just spit it out.”
“You’re not going to like this, boss.”
“Spit. It. Out,” I hiss, knowing full well the name he’s going to say.
“It was Grant. The same holding company that purchased the property to develop The L is the same company that outbid you on both of those properties.”
“Fuck,” I growl. I grab the snow globe from Vence that I purchased with Olivia off my desk and throw it against the wall. The sound ricochets and bounces in the silence of the room. Liquid streaks the wall and pools on the marble floor. This knowledge changes everything. Here I thought we were on the road to mending the bridge, but instead, he’s burned the whole thing down.
Lucy runs into my office and looks at me, and then at the wall. “I’ll get that cleaned up right away.”
“No, it can wait. Get my brother on the line.”
“Which brother, sir?”
“Grant.”
By the seventh time Grant’s phone goes to voice mail, I’m seething. The bastard obviously knows I know it’s him and has no intention of owning up to it. I’m at a loss of what to do. I need to expand. Expansion is the only option for the business to grow. We can’t allow the business to be stagnant. If we don’t grow, we’ll plateau. We need this. I need this. I need to be able to bring Lancaster Holdings to the next level, to make it my own. To put my stamp on the future and be remembered for something. My father is my hero, but living under his shadow is daunting. The foreign market was to be my legacy, yet every step I take, my brother is there to rip away my progress.
Pulling at my roots, I ponder whether there’s anyone else who’s still loyal enough so I won’t have to call her. Having to meet with her in Barcelona was hard enough. But to do another deal, that’s just pouring salt in my wounds. She made me the man I am. Her lies and deceit made me this way. She’s the reason I’m bad at relationships. The reason I have a hard time trusting.
I have no choice, though. She’d never choose Grant over me. Addison Price. The girl who ruined me for all other women . . .
Until now?
For the first time since Addison broke my heart, I’m actually enjoying being with someone, so maybe I’m not that broken after all.
After spending the day running much-needed errands, I’m ecstatic to see a message from Spencer asking me out to dinner. A mixture of anxiety and excitement courses through me. Tonight will be our first time out in public together since I’ve come back home to New York City. Sure, I’ve been to his place every night for the last two weeks—ever since we’ve been back from Europe—but Spencer and I have wanted to keep a low profile after the last time. Tonight will be the first time we go out with targets on our backs, putting ourselves in front of the paparazzi again.
Strangely enough, though, the press isn’t the most nerve-wracking part. The nerve-wracking part is that tonight will be our first time testing our relationship in reality and not in the fantasy world we created for ourselves. Because that was what Europe was for Spencer and me.
A fantasy.
A dream.
And at times a nightmare I hope never to relive.
It hurts to think back to that night, so I try not to. But like a nagging thought, it keeps replaying in my head. The feeling of not being enough, of being left. The need to numb me.
I can’t let myself go there. I can’t let myself be that weak again. So I shake off the thoughts taking refuge in my mind, and instead, envision the night ahead and wonder to myself if tonight will fare any different from our previous outings? Will he be the same Spencer I have grown accustomed to in the privacy of our bubble, and more importantly, will I be the same Olivia?
An hour later, I arrive at the restaurant where Spencer texted me to meet him. I’m a few minutes early, and I pull out my phone when I see him walking up to me. Something is wrong. His brows are pinched and his body is stiff. He still swaggers as if he owns the world, but after getting to know him in Europe and spending the last few weeks in his bed, it’s obvious something is amiss.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Just kiss me. I need you to kiss me.”
I hope he’ll tell me soon what’s eating him up, but I respect him enough to not ask again and just kiss him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I place my lips on his. Our mouths open, and I swear it’s as if he inhales me as he kisses. My hands can feel the muscles in his neck loosening as his body relaxes against me. After a few seconds, Spencer pulls away and looks down at me, bringing his hands up to cup my face.
“Hi,” I whisper as his fingers caress my jaw.
“Hey,” he whispers back. He pulls me in tighter and buries his nose into my neck. I feel the warmth from his lips, the curve of a smile forming. “I missed you today.” His lips tickle the tender skin where his nose is buried as he whispers to me.
“I missed you, too.”
“Come on, let’s eat.”
Still holding on to me, he pulls me into the restaurant and then drops his hand to place it on the small of my back. The pressure of his fingers as he escorts me to the table sends a wave of tingles down my spine.
I sit down crossing my ankles and feel him gently place his hand on my knee. He already looks better than when we first got here. Calmer. A part of me hopes it’s because of me. Unfortunately, now that he’s more relaxed, being out with him is having the opposite effect on me. I feel as if everyone is staring. As if there’s a secret reporter from Exposé at the table next to us. I know I’m being crazy, but hey, you never know. Spencer Lancaster is New York royalty. The press follows him everywhere. I can barely breathe from nerves when the waiter approaches the table and smiles brightly.
“What can I get you guys to drink to start with?” he asks Spencer, and it’s obvious to me and everyone around that Spencer commands the room. He’s a force to be reckoned with, one that if I’m not careful, will rock my whole world.
Too late.
He already has.
The past two weeks have been a living hell.
The news that my own brother is trying to sabotage me has really fucked with my head. What’s worse than him going after us is that he did it after I thought we had made some progress. Serves me right for letting him in. Apparently, he hasn’t changed, and apparently, my father is right about him. Every time I think about this or about Grant I get angry, and today I’m too tired to be pissed. I need a distraction.
Me: Come over.
Olivia: Bossy much?
Me: Not
bossy enough. Bring clothes.
Olivia: Yes, sir.
I laugh. When Lucy calls me sir, it makes me feel old. When Olivia does, it makes me hard. The irony.
Three hours later, Olivia shows up at my place still dressed from whatever she had to do today. She looks hot as hell, but not at all dressed appropriately for what I have planned.
“Get changed into something more casual. We’re doing something a little different than hanging in my suite today.”
Olivia raises a brow. “And what, pray tell, do you have planned?”
“Now that we’re back in New York, I think we need to do typical New York things.”
“And typical things would be?” She leans forward and I catch a peek of her full breasts. I groan at the sight, desperately wanting to rip the shirt from her body and have my way with her right here. She smiles, probably knowing full well what’s going through my mind.
“We’re going to a Yankees game, obviously.”
“Seriously?” she squeals. “The Spencer Lancaster goes to baseball games?”
I gape at her. “I’m a warm-blooded male, Olivia. Clearly, I attend Yankees games.” She smiles at my consternation. “Be ready in twenty. We’ll have to leave soon.” Without looking at Olivia or her amazing tits, I turn on my heel and walk out of the room to cool down.
Twenty minutes later, Olivia comes out wearing a short pair of frayed jean shorts and a tightly fitted New York Yankees tank top. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail high on her head.
Fucking hell.
“I see I have a Yankees fan on my hands.” My voice comes out low and raspy, dripping with want.
“You’re not the only New Yorker in this relationship.”
I smirk at her sass. “You could’ve been a Mets fan.” I scrunch my nose. “Then we would’ve had to rethink this entire relationship.”
She scoffs. “I live in Manhattan. No chance.”
The temptation to cancel our plans and stay in bed all day is growing stronger by the minute. This woman is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and she doesn’t even have to try. My balls are aching and sweat forms on my forehead.