by Lee Savino
“Where are we?” The city block has nothing I recognize, besides a few rundown shops and a few ugly buildings amid a concrete jungle. We’re north of Manhattan, a few streets over from the upper crust area, bleeding into a slightly seedy neighborhood.
“Skate park. Mr. Kensington bought the empty lot and had it put in, a month after he received his inheritance.”
“Of course he did,” I mutter, watching the tall, tanned figure leave the Maserati, skateboard under his arm. “Because he’s twelve.”
“I thought you broke through to him,” Evans frowns at me.
“I thought I did too,” I say, and head in. Theo drops his board to talk with a few guy friends who pulled up in a jeep. Soon they’re all doing tricks, rolling up and down the concrete ramps.
To the right, a catering company has set up a long row of tables, covered in white tablecloths and mounds of food. Canapés and other finger food, plus a whole dessert table, with a tower of cupcakes. The women sit by and watch, careful to keep their sundresses from touching the gang tags on the concrete.
Theo flips his skateboard under his feet a few times before zooming up and down the ramps. He balances his big body with grace and ease as he executes some moves. He’s actually good.
“Won a competition when he was sixteen,” Evans tells me.
“Really? That might be useful.” I make a note to get Mina to dig on that.
Evans stands up and signals his security team. “We have visitors.”
Some scruffy kids have shown up, t-shirts untucked, jeans slouching. They hold beat up skateboards and eye the elite group who have encroached on their territory.
“Wait,” I say. “They’re like ten years old. Don’t kick them out just yet.”
A few of the boys creep towards the food table. When no one stops them, one grabs a chicken satay stick and runs back to his friends.
“Theo,” one of the girls whines. “They’re taking our food.”
“It’s all right,” Theo waves. “They can have as much as they want.”
“Stand down,” Evans says into his ear piece.
The neighborhood kids swarm the tables. The caterers rush to bring out more plates. One of boys reaches over the sea of desserts and grabs the top cupcake.
“They’re eating it all,” blondie cries.
Theo looks up for a second. His shirt is off. Again. Tattoos in glorious display. He shrugs. “Let them eat cake.”
Pouting, blondie stomps back to the car in her designer jean cutoffs and ridiculous high heels.
The kids demolish the food. Theo joins them for a mini hamburger, and then they all head over to the ramps.
I inch closer, listening to Theo rule the court, having the kids take turns on the ramps.
“Hey, can I borrow your phone?” I ask one boy. When he hands it over, I start snapping pictures. Theo crouching to examine a skateboard while three kids look over his shoulder. Theo pointing to the court, explaining the best way to hit the ramps. I take a little video and tweet it, adding Theo’s most popular hashtag.
“What’d you do?” the kid next to me asks when I hand back his phone.
“Made you famous,” I tell him. Using his phone versus mine will make the media leak look more authentic. “Some news vans are going to be here, and they’ll want to talk to you. Go ask Theo if you can get a picture with him. If you can, I’ll take it.”
“Cool!”
Sure enough, thirty minutes later, the paparazzi show. Cameras flash. Theo poses with the kids. He trades his designer t-shirt for one of the boy’s faded one. The boy glows. They all do tricks, and when one of the kids pulls off a fancy twist, Theo gives the boy his skateboard.
A few of the ladies get into it, handing out bottled water and the rest of the cupcakes. Blondie still sits glowering in the Maserati. I smirk at her before crossing to the news people to give a quote. This little detour has been quite a success.
When I return, Theo motions me over.
“Mr. Kensington?”
He pushes closer, dips his head towards mine. It’s then I realize he’s livid.
“What the fuck? You set me up.”
I blink at him.
“It’s a fucking media circus,” he says. “Did you call the press?”
“No. I took a picture and tweeted it with your hashtag. You’re hot right now.”
“I’m always hot.” Still flirty, under all his indignation.
“Hot news I mean.” I flush. My stupid body senses his anger and thinks it’s exciting. The chemistry between us cannot be denied. “You promised me a few interviews and then took off to here.”
“Thought you would get the message.”
“Did you expect me to give up so easily?”
“Yes.” He pushes closer, and his scent washes over me. A bit of sweat at his temple turns his silky hair black.
“Well, I’m not going to.” I stand my ground. “I’m going to do my job, like it or not. I’m a fixer. I’m used to difficult situations.”
“I don’t want to be fixed.” He looms over me, his body heat hitting me like a heatwave.
“Well, too bad.” My fucking pussy is dripping. We’re so close to each other, you could barely run a knife blade between us. There’s more to this fight than Theo’s distaste for the media. He’s finally met someone who will stand up to him. It doesn’t hurt that I’m someone he wants to fuck.
“You used these kids as part of my own personal photo shoot. And now I hear you told the media I come out here and skate with them regularly? A way of giving back?”
I shrug. “It’s not a bad idea? You built the park, you like to come here.”
“I’m not running a charity—”
“Actually, you are. As of three p.m. this afternoon. The lawyers are working on adding Boards for Boys and Girls to the Kensington Nonprofit Fund. You’re giving one million to start a skateboard after school program for inner city kids.” I give him a fierce smile. “I already told the kids you’d be here next week. Unless you want to back out…”
He shakes his head, but I hear his teeth grinding.
“Relax, Theo. This is good press. It’s good.”
“I didn’t fucking come out here to—”
“I know you didn’t. But, like I said, the kids showed up and you were nice to them. Because you’re a nice guy.” I poke him in the chest. It hurts my finger. His muscles are hard. Too late I realize I just poked my boss in the chest. But it’s not my fault. The force field between us is activated.
I pull my hand away. “You’re a nice guy,” I repeat.
“No, I’m not.” He backs away, shaking his head. He’s even hotter when he’s mad. I don’t tell him that. “Don’t pull this shit again.”
“Mr. Kensington!” A man in a white polo and slacks jogs up. I practically jump between him and Theo.
“No interviews,” I say, hoping Theo tones down the hostile body language before the cameras swing this way. That’s all we need—Theo throwing a punch at a reporter. “Mr. Kensington isn’t interested in giving a statement at this time.”
“I’m not with the press.” The man holds up his hands in mock defense. “I’m Roger White. I run the Kids Club over there.” He points to a low, grey building alongside the park. “I wanted to thank you all for coming and interacting with the kids.”
“It was my pleasure,” Theo says, shaking Mr. White’s hand. All the anger has drained out of him. He stands tall and proud, inclining his head, as gracious as if he were the president accepting an award. “Thank you for the work you do. This afternoon was a drop in the bucket compared to that.”
“I don’t know about that. For example,” he nods to two preteens who look like identical twins. “I’ve known Billy and Kenny since they were toddlers. Their mom works late, so they’re in our programs every day. The older they get, the more they disengage. What you did today, it means a lot to them. And to me.”
“Mr. Kensington has a non-profit that’s interested in partnering with local ki
d’s clubs,” I put in.
Theo gives me a small frown, but doesn’t correct me.
“I’d love to hear more,” Mr. White says. “I know you’re busy, but I’d like to invite you to the Kid’s Olympics event we’re having. Downtown. Clubs from the East Coast are all gathering together to compete. It’s tomorrow. I know it’s last minute notice to add to your schedule, but—”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Theo says, and thanks the man again while I grin in satisfaction.
“Theo,” blondie hollers from the Maserati. “Can we go now?”
Theo ignores her, and takes my elbow, directing me to the car. The crazy attraction jumps between us again, making me almost stumble as I navigate the broken pavement to the black Escalade.
To anyone watching, he’s escorting me to the car like a gentleman, moving his hand to my back to steady me. I feel the press of his fingers outlined on my back, burning like a brand. Like it’s radioactive.
He puts his lips close to my ear. “What did I just tell you about posing for the press?”
“I didn’t send him over to you.” I whisper back, ignoring the crazy thumping in my heart. “That was all on Mr. White.” I climb into the car and glance back, hoping to see the Theo who played with those kids. The real Theo, his gaze soft and open.
Instead he looks hard, shuttered.
I gulp and take a chance. “He’s right you know. Mr. White. You did a good thing today. I’m sorry if I ruined it with the media.” And I am sorry. I thought the battle was between us and the press. Not between you and me.
He stares at me so long I almost call his name. Blondie hollers again, and he shakes himself, breaking the spell. Thank God. Any longer and his force field would pull me from the car to jump straight into his arms.
“This isn’t over,” he warns and shuts the door while I shiver at the promise and the threat.
Back at the mansion, I head to my assigned office to check my laptop. There’s an email from Mina with two words. “Mission Completed.” I smile. Mina likes using code words as she executes her hacker genius.
My phone rings. Evans.
“I just got orders from Mr. Kensington. He said he’s going to the Kid’s Olympics tomorrow?”
I grin and thank the heavens above for Mr. White. “I guess so.”
“He also asked for no extra media presence, but he says he’s going to volunteer all day.”
I fumble the phone and almost drop it. When I get it back up to my ear, Mr. Evans has continued, “—before flying out to Sweden.”
“Has he agreed to Sweden?”
“Not yet.”
“He will,” I say, and knock on the wood top of my desk. I’ll get him to agree to meet his grandmother the queen if I have to don a bikini and give Theo a lap dance.
I do not say this out loud to Evans.
“My men have been monitoring the media. Apparently, more sex tapes starring Pepper Spice have come out. She must have made one of every guy she’s ever slept with. It’s all over the celebrity news shows.”
Well done, Mina. “That should deflect the attention from Theo somewhat.”
“That’s what I’m seeing.” Evans clears his throat. “I don’t know how you did it, but keep it up. We might be able to convince the board to give him a second chance, after all.”
Four hours later, I close my laptop. I have Theo scheduled for an interview on Thursday, and released his statement asking for the press to “respect his privacy.” I’ve nudged a few friends to lean on Pepper Spice, who’s looking less and less like a credible source, and more like an opportunistic slut. I don’t like dishing out dirt to clean up a client’s image, but if Pepper is mud-slinging, the least I can do is turn the camera on her.
I’ve just finished dinner when my phone rings again.
“He’s gone,” Evans grunts.
“Again? I thought you took his keys?”
“I did. Must’ve taken the Porsche.”
“The man owns ten cars. When you take his keys, you need to take all of them.” I stalk to the window and push open the shades, as if I expect to see Theo motor down his front drive. “We leave tomorrow at eight. We don’t have time to pull him out of a bar and dry him out. We can’t delay anymore. We’re out of time.”
“I know. We’re trying to track his phone.”
I whirl from the window, rubbing my temples. My headache was gone, but I feel it coming back with a vengeance. “Could he just be at the pool with the rest of his posse?”
“He sent them home. Thought he was headed to his rooms. We’re searching the residence for him now.”
Dammit. “All right. I’ll help.” I pack up my laptop and head to my room. If I’m going to run down my client, I’m going to do it in Nikes, not Louboutins.
I growl to myself as I march down the gilded halls. “Goddamn fucking man better keep his fucking dick in his fuck god pants or I will staple them to his—” I open the door to my bedroom and halt in my tracks.
Across my bedroom, Theo grins at me.
My phone rings. I answer it.
“I think he’s still here,” Evans says, “His cell signal is still in the residence—”
“I found him,” I interrupt. “Call off your search. We’ll see you in the morning.” I hang up before Evans can ask any more questions, and I have to tell him the playboy prince is lying in my bed.
5
“Miss me?” Theo asks.
“Shoes off the bed,” I order, and march past him into the bathroom. With great care, I make sure not to slam the door. Then I press myself against it.
The sight of Theo, all shirtless six foot something of him—plus the ten inches he’s packing in his pants (and thankfully, he is wearing pants) is enough to make my ovaries explode.
If I survive this night without rubbing myself all over him, I will be very, very surprised.
Must. Channel. Miss. Mavery.
I open the door again, half-hoping he’s gone.
Nope. Still there, reclining on his back, biceps and triceps sleekly outlined against the bedspread as he pillows his head in his hands. He’s kicked off his shoes. Looks like he’s here to stay.
Some part of me is instantly resigned to him being here, our attraction as final and inexorable as gravity. Some part of me wants to jump his bones.
The way he’s stretched out, it’d be so easy.
He transfers his gaze from the ceiling to me, long lashes fanning across his tanned skin.
How can a man be this pretty? And rich. And smart. And famous.
It’s not fucking fair.
“So, Vesper. You gonna ask me why I’m here?”
“No,” I reply, sifting through my suitcase for the baggiest pair of yoga pants I own. Add to them a giant t-shirt proclaiming ‘I love NYC’ and my Sarah Palin/Tina Fey black framed glasses, and I have the perfect cock-blocking outfit. Not as good as a pantsuit, but it’s all I’ve got.
“I know what you’re doing,” I continue, rising with clothes in hand to kick off my heels. “You’re making my life difficult. You’ve been doing it since I set foot on your doorstep.”
“I agreed to do everything you wanted.”
“Which is why I’m not throwing you out on your ass,” I say. “You need a good night’s sleep before tomorrow, and so do I. It may as well be here, where I can keep an eye on you.”
“Is that what we’re going to do?” He raises a brow. “Sleep?”
In answer, I shut the bathroom door. I wash my face and change into my armor. After I set my glasses on my nose, I study my reflection. I have a pretty face. Not as pretty as Theo’s, but my thin build and elfin face get me enough stares on the subway. Add to that my long, thick blonde hair flowing out behind me like a golden flag, and I get more than second looks.
I’ve had enough attention to last a lifetime. But for some reason, I want Theo to look at me.
After a long moment, I let down my hair.
When I exit the bathroom, Theo sits up, and I know letting my
hair down was a mistake.
But his hot gaze on me feels like a win.
“No, we’re not just going to sleep,” I announce. “We’re going to talk.
“Just talk?” Another eyebrow raises.
“Just talk.” I turn to the dresser to take out my earrings.
A whisper of fabric, and heat hits my back. Theo’s awesome sexual presence surrounds me.
“Just talk? Are you sure about that?” he murmurs, wrapping his arm around my waist. A good thing he does, because my legs almost give out.
He pulls me back against him and my mind goes blank. Something long and very, very hard presses against my bottom.
“This is sexual harassment,” the Miss Mavery part of me parrots. The rest of me melts into Theo’s giant body.
“Is it? How so?” He tugs my shirt collar to the side and plants a small kiss on my shoulder.
It takes everything in me not to whirl around and wrap my arms around his neck. He’s very hard and warm. And... hard. “Um…”
“Why don’t you tell me all about it.” He steps away and tugs me around. “In bed.”
He draws me to the bed slowly. I walk very carefully, as if I might accidentally slip and fall and land on his dick.
Hey, it could happen. Baggy yoga pants non-withstanding.
But as soon as I get to the bed, I break away and slip under the covers. “No. Just no.” I stop him when he goes to do the same.
He smirks and lies atop the comforter, propped on his side facing me. “You don’t trust me at all, do you?”
“Not one bit, Mr. Fuck God. Your reputation precedes you. You made your bed. You can lie in it.”
“As long as I can lie in it with you.”
I roll my eyes. “Calm down, Casanova. You’re not going to seduce me tonight.”
He traces the design on the blanket, his finger straying dangerously close to my boob. “Can you blame me if I try? You’re hot.”
I give him a look.
“Oh, come on. Not even those glasses hide it. Though they do give me tons of sexy librarian fantasies.”
“Your books are overdue, Mr. Kensington,” I say sternly.