Mr. Wright & Mr. Wrong: A BWWM Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  Michael waited around the corner. The plastic gun was huge, nearly the same size as his half-brother. If one were to delve too deeply down that road they might wonder what the person who had actually bought it was compensating for. At any rate, that gun was now Michael’s.

  He reached out a hand and grabbed it right out of Chauncey’s grasp. The boy gave a yelp of stunned surprise at having the tables turned on him. Michael saw the mouth opening wide to let out its first scream of outrage.

  “Stop,” he ordered with a stern look on his face.

  Apparently no one had ever said that word to him, at least not the way Michael had. Chauncey just stared at him in shock.

  He leaned down into the stunned face. “Boys who don’t know how to play nice with their toys, don’t get to keep their toys. This gun is now mine.”

  He walked off with the NERF gun toward the door. It took half a minute but the yelling came soon enough. Hopefully at least a tiny bit of that had sunk in, but, knowing his dad’s indulgences when it came to buying toys for his sons, Michael would no doubt have to show up wearing a protective cup from now on.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Starting one week from the date of this message, all employees at Douglas & Foster, must have their hair in a single, natural color, or dyed in a single, natural hue. “Ombre” or two-tone styles will no longer be permitted.

  So much for Brooklyn’s platinum blonde tips.

  She was staring at the computer screen on a Monday afternoon, only half interested in her workday.

  Once again, Clarice, having just dyed her hot pink, ombre tips Lucille Ball red—which purposely pushed the envelope on “natural color”—was having another mental break down.

  Brooklyn rolled her eyes and wondered what Paris was like this time of year. It was probably quite nice. Like New York, there were probably plenty of flowers. The Louvre. The Eiffel Tower. Champagne. She’d never been before. Thanks to a few spring breaks spent in Mexico, she had a current passport.

  She still had 12 days of vacation left for the year. It would probably be dumb to use them all up before the year was half over, but she could at least tap into some of them. It was a free trip to Paris. To be with Alex.

  She blinked.

  What the hell was she debating it for? Who the hell debates taking advantage of an all-expenses paid trip to Paris, especially with a fine-ass man waiting for them on the other side?

  She got up and walked to her boss’s office.

  There had been a bit of back and forth with her boss. Why in the world employers made it difficult for people to actually use their vacation was beyond her. Sure it was last minute, but ultimately he had caved…even when she’d said she wanted to use all of them at once.

  Now it was Tuesday and she was on a plane, comfortably cocooned in a pod in Business Class. That had been a nice little surprise. It was a strange experience. She was used to being stuffed next to other passengers in Coach. Now she couldn’t even see anyone else, except maybe the legs of the man across the aisle and the flight attendants. Supposedly the seat turned into a bed but she was far too nervous to sleep. Instead she plied herself with the free flowing champagne and thought about what she was doing.

  Two weeks. With Alex. Was that too much time together? Would they get sick of one another? Turn into an old married couple that did nothing but nag at each other? Did he even want her there for that long?

  She shook her head free of these thoughts. At the very least she could experience Paris. She sat back and sipped her champagne, flipping through the channels on the TV screen in front of her.

  She had sucked up the international text charges to let him know she was coming and give him the flight information. His only response had been:

  Perfect. Meet you at the airport.

  She wasn’t sure what to expect. She made her way through customs and past the security gate, and then she saw him there. Her Alex. He was in his typical t-shirt, jeans and Converse shoes. He was also holding a bouquet of pink tulips. That moment, any doubts she had were erased.

  It was like something out of a movie when she ran to him, laughing with delight, and threw her arms around him to kiss him on the mouth. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, kissing him even harder. They were making a complete spectacle of themselves and everyone around them gave them indulgent smiles and appreciative glances, some even started clapping.

  Ah Paree…city of love.

  Alex stopped a taxi and gave the driver the address to the apartment in fluent French as he handed her bags off to him.

  “You speak French?” she asked.

  He smiled as though it weren’t a big deal. “Just enough where it counts. I make it a point to know a bit of the language of cities where I’m likely to find work. French, Spanish, Italian, passable Japanese and Russian.”

  He let her into the taxi first, and when he followed and closed the door, she leaned back into him, which he found he had missed terribly.

  It was true that Paris was a city full of chic, beautiful women. When he wasn’t busy working Alex had found himself wandering around, somehow secure in the thought that he was already very much taken. It was an odd feeling to have, seeing as Brooklyn lived in the one city he made a point of avoiding.

  Somehow he just knew.

  Now here she was, in his arms as they watched the city unfold on the drive to the apartment.

  “So what made you decide to come?” he asked, his chin resting on her head.

  “Honestly,” she laughed. “The new dress code at work.”

  As though she could feel the perplexed expression on his face, she expounded on that, “And of course, I wanted to see you,” she added. “Gotta keep my man from the clutches of these Parisian chicks.”

  “Your man, huh?” he mused.

  “Yeah, my man,” she insisted with a laugh.

  “Well, I have to confess I was also worried about keeping my woman from the clutches of those New York guys.”

  “Your woman, huh?” she mimicked.

  “Yeah, my woman,” he said, hugging her closer. “Why do you think I bribed you with that ticket.”

  “Oh hey,” she announced. “Thanks for the upgrade by the way. I’ve never flown Business Class. It was…really nice. You never appreciate what it’s like to have both a window seat and the ability to go to the bathroom without annoying people until you’ve experienced it. You’ve ruined me, Alex.”

  “All part of my evil plan to lure you in,” he said in a wicked voice.

  She laughed.

  “Actually, I have a lot of airline points built up. Life on the road and all.”

  Soon, they arrived at their destination. The apartment was located in the hip, but pricey 4th Arrondissement of Paris. The location housed a mixture of luxury boutiques and trendy shops and was located close enough to many of the touristy things Brooklyn could do while Alex had to work.

  When Alex was done paying for the taxi, he grabbed one of her bags and she took the other as they walked in the front door.

  “The elevator is pretty tiny,” he warned her, “but I think we can squeeze in.”

  The entryway had marble flooring and there was beautifully intricate iron railing on the spiral staircase that led up to the apartments. The elevator had a similar design on the facade. He hitched the bag he was carrying up higher on his shoulder as he squeezed in next to her. In this enclosed space they were pressed intimately together, forced to stare at one another as the elevator made its way up to the top floor.

  Brooklyn smiled at him and he smiled back. It was awkward, yet somehow reassuringly comfortable at the same time. No doubt, that’s what the next two weeks would be like as well.

  The apartment was small but beautifully decorated and had the most spectacular view of Paris around them. The first thing Brooklyn did was drop her bag and head out to the tiny balcony that housed a small table with two chairs. Alex watched her with a fond smile as she pushed one chair aside to lean out and take in
the city in the morning light. He came up behind her as she looked out over rooftops and down into the street. Most impressively, the Eiffel tower stood proud and tall several blocks away. It still took Alex’s breath away.

  “So unfortunately, you caught me on a day that I have to work,” he said regrettably. “We have a soft opening this week at the club. The good news is, that gives you a chance to explore the city on your own. You should, it’s beautiful, especially in May.”

  She turned around in his arms and wrapped hers around him. “So when do I get to see you again?”

  “It’ll be late, but not too late. Probably around 10 or so.”

  She nodded. “Well, you go and have fun. I’ll see you tonight.” She kissed his nose.

  Alex had other ideas. He wasn’t going to get her all the way over here and not take advantage, especially since he wouldn’t be seeing her again until late tonight after he was tired from an evening of work.

  “Well, I don’t have to be there for a good hour or so. I think I’d like to explore a bit of New York first…one borough in particular.”

  She laughed at the pun. “Well, I’m happy to be your tour guide,” she said, giving him a wicked smile.

  He took her hand and led her back inside to the rather conveniently large bed.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Brooklyn was glowing as she wandered around Paris later that day. She was familiar enough with using a subway system that it was easy to figure out Paris’, the only hitch being her lack of French. Naturally, her first stop was the Eiffel Tower. It was crowded with tourists, but when she got to the top and saw all of Paris spread out before her, it was worth it.

  In elementary school she had taken a field trip to the top of the Empire State Building. The view at the top of the Tower reminded her of that, though with different scenery. Up here by herself she had time to reflect on her current situation.

  A little over a month ago she had no idea who Alex Wright was. Unlike her father, she had very little interest in New York Society, no matter what race they were. Now here she was in Paris with the son of one of the most famous—infamous, if she were being honest—New Yorkers. She looked out at the view of the Seine River. What a crazy world.

  Throughout the day she did all the typical tourist things, all the while thinking about seeing Alex again that night. She had a Nutella crepe, which she found to be a bit too sickly sweet for her tastes. She visited the Louvre, which was astonishingly huge, and incredibly awe-inspiring, especially with her being an artist at heart. Incapable of seeing the entire thing in one day, she finally made her way through to the Mona Lisa and was surprised to see how small it was, especially as viewed behind the throng of tourists that were crowding it. In fact, she found her attention diverted to the practically floor to ceiling painting it was juxtaposed across from, The Wedding Feast at Cana.

  By evening she was exhausted, but the thought of sitting alone in the apartment waiting for Alex to get there sounded pathetic. Instead she took advantage of one of Paris’ many sidewalk cafes and scandalized the owner by ordering a beer instead of a glass of wine. She sat outside to people watch.

  It was springtime in Paris and she was in a short sleeved black romper with large white flowers patterned on it. It had a wrap top and shorts high enough to show off her long, brown legs in the white Keds she wore. Her thick head of curls was up in a high ponytail off her neck.

  After her first beer, she ordered a salad and decided to fit in by paring it with a glass of wine, much to the owner’s approval. An older gentleman with a cane sat in one of the few empty seats near her and she was pleased when he asked her something in French. Based on the number of people of various colors in this city she’d seen speaking the local language she shouldn’t have been surprised. Apparently she fit in better than she thought.

  “Sorry, I don’t speak French,” she said with an apologetic smile.

  “Ah, American?” he smiled with delight.

  She nodded.

  “And how long have you been here?” he asked in his accented English.

  “Really only today,” she laughed. “But I’ve seen so much.”

  “Ah, but Paris at night?” he kissed the fingers of one hand to finish the statement. “Are you here alone?”

  She gave him a wary glance. He had to be older than her father. Was he hitting on her? Luckily she had an answer. “I’m with my boyfriend. He’s working right now.”

  “Lucky man,” he winked with a smile. “The Eiffel Tower, you’ve seen, no?”

  She nodded. Her answer hadn’t slowed him down.

  “At night it lights up. Lovers lie there and make love. Is tradition.” He gave her a knowing smile indicating that it would be a shame for her not to partake in that particular tradition.

  They chatted a bit more after that until Brooklyn finished her wine and salad and said her goodbyes. The conversation had given her an idea.

  Alex didn’t get back to the apartment until around 10:30. Brooklyn was working on her laptop creating yet another new art piece that would never be sold. Paris had been inspiring and she sat at the little table on the balcony using it as her muse. The diversity in this city was on par with New York and she loved it.

  She heard the door open and a few minutes later he approached her.

  “Hey gorgeous,” he said looking at her with a smile.

  “Hey yourself,” she said getting out of her chair to put her arms around his neck and kiss him.

  “What are you working on?” he asked, looking down at the screen on her laptop.

  “Just some art,” she said idly. “I enjoy it.”

  “Let me see,” he said, peering down to get a closer look.

  She watched as he scrolled through her album of work. She wasn’t shy about her pieces. She knew they were good. Her instructors in school had told her as much. It was just impossible to make any kind of living at it.

  “This is really good stuff, Brooklyn,” he said. “You should really work on getting this stuff out there.”

  She smiled down at him. Alex may know the night club scene but he had no idea how brutally competitive the art world was. She scratched his head as she looked at the darkened city over his shoulder while he scrolled through her computer. The sun had set only about an hour ago. She thought back to her idea for tonight.

  “Are you tired?” she asked.

  He popped his head back up. “I was until I saw you.”

  “If you are, we can just stay in, but I met this man today”—she saw his face darken with jealousy—“a very old man,” she elaborated with a smile, “and he told me about how the Eiffel Tower lights up every night as people ‘make love’” on the lawn underneath it.

  “That’s a bit of an exaggeration, but yes, it does light up and it’s beautiful. Did you want to see it?”

  “Can we?” she said with an eager smile, wrapping her arms around him for effect. “I bought some wine and cheese and bread. We can make a date out of it.”

  “Sounds perfect,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.

  Twenty minutes later they had found a spot on the crowded lawn to look up at the tower. After eating a bit of bread and cheese and drinking quite a bit of the wine, Alex had his head in her lap while she sat up, leaning back on one hand. She scratched her fingers through his thick hair while she looked at the people around her.

  “Mmm,” he sighed, “this is nice. Remind me to take you on all my working trips. I can’t think of a better way to end the day.”

  She smiled down at him. It was a nice idea but it made her think. Her work and life were in New York. Even though a significant portion of her job was done over her stupid headset, she seriously doubted Douglas & Foster would let her do it all the way from Paris, or wherever Alex was headed to next.

  A while later the sparkling light show began as twinkling lights lit up the tower like a Christmas tree in Broadway, making it sparkle in the night.

  “Oh, Alex. It’s beautiful,” she sighed, smiling up at it
. She didn’t hear a response and she looked down to find him asleep in her lap. She let him be, knowing he’d had a full day. She at least had been able to take a nap. Instead she continued stroking his head as she finished the wine and watched the show continue for five minutes. They weren’t “making love,” but his head in her lap felt nice and comfortable, like they were that “old married couple” she had been worried about.

  It was perfect.

  They had made their way back to the apartment and fallen asleep. Brooklyn woke up in the wee hours of the morning, her internal clock still a bit off. She wrapped her naked body in a silk kimono and stood out on the balcony to watch the city before it woke up.

  It was still quite dark and would be for a couple of hours. The lights of the Eiffel Tower were off now, but the moon was still bright as it settled closer to the earth. She looked out at the city as it slept, enjoying the cool air ruffling underneath her robe.

  “Sorry I missed the show last night,” she heard Alex say as he came in close behind her. “Same time tonight?” he murmured into her head as he pressed his body against hers.

  “It’s a date,” she said, turning around in his embrace. He had thrown on a pair of pajama bottoms and she admired his chiseled chest, tracing a finger along the tattoo on his shoulder.

  “The city is nice like this,” he mused, looking out past her. “Almost, as though anything is possible.”

  His hands came up to the tie holding her kimono in place. One hand tugged at an end and it loosened, falling and bringing the two sides sliding open after it.

  “Anything?” she asked, giving him a seductive smile.

  “Anything,” he murmured, slipping his hands across her stomach and around her waist causing the robe to open completely, exposing her naked body to the night air.

  Brooklyn’s nipples hardened instantly and she bit her lip watching his eyes roam over her body in the moonlight. Alex’s hands glided up the curve of her waist to cup a breast with one hand. The thumb and index finger rolled the tiny, dark nub around between them, making her moan.