The Vow (Manhattan Nights Book 1)

by Natalie Wrye

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “The paparazzi.”

  Her eyes widen. “For me? Or for you?”

  I raise one eyebrow, shrugging. Because honestly I don’t know. Elsie and I both worked towards this—the fame, the fortune and the fangirls galore. And now that all three are creeping in, we’re being closed in a hell of our own making. And just when, a few hours ago, we’d been lost in our solitary heaven. I squeeze my fist.

  “I’ve got an idea. Might not work, but what the hell?” I fish out my cell phone. “The time it takes to make a quick call won’t kill us.”

  In the relative silence of the rainy night with a gang of ravenous photographers just across the hall, Elsie and I both listen to the sounds of our sudden “guests,” who have now started to turn on each other—yelling, pushing, shuffling several doors down. She turns those big brown eyes up at me, cocking a blonde brow. “You sure about that?”

  “No,” I answer, sliding the ringing phone up to my ear. “But if I don’t want to commit homicide, then I have little choice.”

  The line rings and I wait. The sound of a feminine “Hello” rings out and I start speaking fast, almost whispering frantically into the phone. I breathe the words out in a rush.

  “Hey…” I utter, trying to keep my voice calm. “It’s me. Don’t hang up. I know it’s not like we’re on the best of terms…but I’m a bit stuck in a spot. Can you come to the St. Regis? I…” I glance at Elsie, my stomach bottoming out at the sight of her beauty. As always. I correct myself. “We…” The word feels strangely comforting. “…Need your help.”

  Chapter 26

  ELSIE

  Standing there, waiting for Brett’s ex-girlfriend—my new roommate—to show up is fucking torture.

  I thought I’d endured my own form just hours ago in Brett’s bed. But this is an entirely different trial by fire, and in the middle of the swanky St. Regis hotel—the site of my lost virginity, stuck by the side of the most beautiful man I’ve—still—ever seen, I feel suddenly small. I don’t want to ask about Sophie. I don’t want to know.

  But the twisting in my stomach gets the best of me, and I glance up at Brett—so tall and tough and perfect—running my hand across his tattooed wrist, needing to know just where I stand. I sigh.

  “How long will we have to wait here?”

  “Just until she calls.”

  “And how long will that be?”

  “Minutes, I’m sure.” He rubs his fingers at my waist. “Don’t worry.”

  “Sure,” I scoff. “Because there’s absolutely nothing to worry about when a rising supermodel is coming to your rescue.”

  Brett glances down at me, his dark brows drawing together, his silhouette seemingly made of stone in the deep dark of the hotel room. I can barely see his face.

  “What?” he asks, his words a harsh whisper. “What are you talking about, Elsie?”

  “I’m talking about that stick-figure Sophie. I don’t think of myself as a jealous person.” I snort. “In fact, I try hard not to be… but it’s hard when in everyone’s mind the man you love is with someone else… even if he’s not.”

  He turns to me, trapping me against the wall, his fingers flying to my arms. He holds me there. With no light inside the room other than the moon, he almost looks menacing, his strong jaw rigid. He bends at the waist so we meet face-to-face and what I find in his eyes is so hurt, so deeply affected, that tears almost spring forth. I swallow them back.

  “What Sophie and I ‘had’,” he emphasizes with hints of anger, “was a constructed relationship, Elsie. A fake for TV. What you and I have is real—something genuine. You and I are not a ‘made-for-TV’ special. We’re not a hoax. I tied myself to Sophie to please the producers of “Tattoo Gods” and there’s not a minute I don’t regret. Not a second I wouldn’t go back and do it all over again, and let you know…” He hesitates. “That I fucking love you. I always have. From Kool-Aid pants to a worldwide stage, from the talent show to the television screen and everything in between… you are the only fucking woman for me, Elsie Carpenter. This is it. I’m sorry…”

  He shakes his head. “I love my sister, but no family is going to keep you from me. No promise or stupid fucking vow will make me feel any different for you than I feel in this moment. Get used to it,” he finishes, his words a shuddering force. My stomach clenches tighter with every sentence, and as Brett’s little rant ends, I want to slap him. I want to cry and scream. I want to rage. I want to push him away for being so goddamned right it scares me.

  But I don’t.

  Instead, I grab his face, tugging him towards me. Our mouths meet in a certified frenzy, and before I can blink, Brett lifts me in his arms, trapping me to the wall. His finger focused on pulling at my shorts, he shucks them down my legs dropping them to the floor. I grab for his loose jeans, doing the same. Sinking my fingers into the denim waistband, I flip open his button, unzip his fly.

  With a sweep of my hands, I push down his briefs and brace for impact as Brett’s hard length releases, poking and prodding gently between my legs…. before plunging, sending me spiraling into pure bliss. I bite into Brett’s shoulder with a scream. God, he feels so fucking good. I’d forgotten how perfect we fit, how complete. Full and long and freaking perfect, Brett’s hard cock fills me, squeezing inside. With a sigh, he settles against me, and with my legs wrapped around him and my back against the wall, Brett starts to move with my body in his hands, sliding slowly but surely along his thick length. I reach my hands above my head, seeing stars. And he never stops.

  It is slick—the rhythm between us. Silky hot. The pressure inside me builds as our bodies start to dance and soon we are leading each other in a Cuban rumba, an erotic merengue where we match move for move. In sync with every step. Taking each other higher and higher with each rise and dip. Brett nips my earlobe and I almost orgasm. I grip his shoulders.

  “God, Elsie, I don’t know how long I survived without this. Without you.” His harsh voice is a groan. “Don’t you know that I’m my best when I’m with you? That you were everything that was ever good in me? You…” he growls, gripping my hips tight. “Are fucking everything. And I’m never letting you go again.”

  I moan, meeting my lips with his neck. I press. “Don’t, Brett. Please don’t ever let go.”

  He moans with me, and we pick up speed. The Santeria. The Samba. The Cumbia. We dance it all. The friction of my breasts against Brett’s hard chest drives me crazy, and when he lifts his head finally capturing my lips with his, I come, my body breaking into bits, my sex clenching so hard the world swirls. I can feel the flood of my climax. An orgasm so powerful it scares me, shuddering from my head to my dangling toes, and I cry Brett’s name into the open air without shame, hearing him do the same as he stiffens, his pulsating pounds softening as his seed spreads inside me. I slump in his arms, hearing my own name in my ear. His voice is a gritty growl. “Fucking everything, Elsie. I swear.”

  He doesn’t let go, despite the fact that I’m deadweight.

  Resting his forehead against mine, Brett touches my mouth again with his teasing slowly. He rubs his thumb across one tender nipple, and I gasp, ready for more, my slumped body slowly reviving and rearing to go again when suddenly his cell phone rings making us both jump.

  He lowers me to the floor and we scramble to put our clothes back on as he answers, his normally silky voice gruff. He grips the phone tight. “Yeah?” He listens. “Okay, we’re coming. We’re coming.” He hangs up, reaching for my hand. I fasten my shorts and grab it, letting him lead. We soon reach the door.

  “Okay, when we hit the hallway, we’re going straight for the stairs. Keep close to me. And keep your eyes on the floor.” He opens the heavy door, swinging it. “And watch out for the flying glass.”

  “Flying glass?” I yelp quietly as he pulls me into the corridor. “What the…?” The door slams shut behind me, muffling my whispered yells.

  Chapter 27

  BRETT

>   The shards of glass shatter at our feet, scattering everywhere. In the midst of the St. Regis’s upper class lobby, Elsie and I find mania and staff scrambling sideways, ducking and diving as a wily woman dances on the bar. A beautiful wily woman.

  The entire room is captivated—stunned. They stare at a startling brunette on the bar who kicks up her skirt, sending cocktails flying every which way as she whirls and twirls to the piano-laced beat of “Benny and the Jets.” Even Elsie stares.

  I grab her side, pulling close, whispering in her tiny ear. “Head down, kitten. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

  My hoodie is almost big enough for the both of us. With the fabric over my head and hers, I thank God that I thought to grab it on my way out, and with the rain still falling heavily outside—slanting, I send up a silent prayer that the rest of the bar—paparazzi and all—are still enamored with Little Miss Whirl-a-Bar, and Else and I hit the lobby doors, exiting, heading straight for the black Navigator I’m expecting. I open the door, feeling the simulated heat hit us the second we step inside, escorting Elsie in first so I can sit beside her.

  I settle into the leather seats, swiping rain off my hood, and Elsie gapes up at me, her blonde brows lowered. She looks around. “Where are we?”

  “Figuratively?” I ask. “In Hell.” I shift closer to her. “Literally…” I take a scan of the black swanky interior. “We’re in a Navigator that should take us as far from here as we can fucking get.” I wrap my around Elsie. “I called a friend.”

  “A friend?” she asks, leaning up to look at me. “What kind of fri—?”

  But the words are cut off with all the commotion. A million light bulbs flash outside of our dark windows, and with the rain still drilling down, I watch what looks like a hundred black umbrellas open towards the sky. I watch a woman be shuffled through them, a dark coat hanging over her hand, a delicate wrist reaching out as a big burly security guard emerges from underneath an umbrella, opening the back door. She hops inside along with us and it shuts. She shakes a Niagara Falls-worth of water onto the floor with a smile. Her blue eyes meet mine.

  “Well… Looks like you brought one hell of a party. There were paparazzi everywhere.”

  “Don’t I know it?” I shoot back. “You should be used to this bullshit by now. I’m not. I almost punched one of their lights out. Literally.”

  “Sounds exciting. Can I watch?” she smirks, looking in Elsie’s direction with a smile. “Hi there.”

  “Elsie,” I start, turning to the slightly shaking blonde at my side. “I don’t think I got the chance to properly introduce you two yet. This is…”

  “Marilyn Daniels,” she finishes for me, reaching out a hand towards the flustered brunette. “Of course I know you,” she exhales. “I love your show.”

  Marilyn winks at me. “Your girl’s got good taste.”

  “Define ‘good’,” I say, grinning at Marilyn. She slaps me, turning towards the driver, where she exchanges a few words. Elsie sidles up close to me, whispering. “Your ‘friend’ is Marilyn Daniels?”

  I keep my voice low. “We needed a distraction. And Marilyn’s known for being a ‘wild child.’ Perfect paparazzi opportunity for the ones worried about me.” Elsie’s mouth drops. “Don’t worry,” I assure, smoothing my hand over hers. “She knows the entire staff. They love the publicity she brings.”

  “I guess they’d better. I think she may have broken every glass at the bar.”

  I chuckle as Elsie smiles into my face. “Probably.”

  Abruptly, Marilyn turns to us, her brown waves of hair flying over her shoulders. She removes her coat. “Okay,” she starts, motioning with her hands, “Kristoph’s going to get us out of here. Three more black trucks are going to pull up and play ‘four-car shuffle’ with us.” She raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘We’ll leave the photogs in the dust and you can tell me all about what happened.”

  I snort. “Goodie.” I glance out the window. “Maybe then you can tell me what the hell happened to Heath. He hasn’t showed up to the shop in three days.”

  Marilyn’s pretty blue eyes sink to the floor, her lips slightly parting. The party girl wilts in front of my eyes. I sit up straighter, staring at the top of her head. Leaning forward, I cross my arms, waiting while the driver finally leaves the curb, sliding into the slick streets with the nightlife traffic flowing around us. My patience grows thin.

  “Marilyn, what? What is it?”

  “Heath’s in… a little bit of trouble.”

  I frown. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Well, you know I haven’t really talked to my brother since we last saw each other at the bar. And I know he’s closer to you than I am, and sometimes that really fucking infuriates me, but I—.” She fiddles with her fingers in her lap, making my nerves heighten. Marilyn’s anxious—a first for the carefree actress I know so well. “I think he owes some pretty bad guys some money. In fact…” she exhales, “I know he does. He keeps some pretty big gambling debts going. You know him. Mr. No-Risk-No-Reward. Always rolling the dice on stocks and whatever other money-making gamble he can get his hands on.”

  I take a deep breath, my chest hurting from how hard I inhale. I close my eyes slowly before opening them. I sigh. “How much?”

  “I think close to half a million,” she answers softly. “Maybe more.”

  I pound my fist at the side of the door. “Shit.”

  “Yeah,” Mare snorts. “Tell me about it. I heard he withdrew that much money from the bank.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  She smiles, rolling her now-glassy eyes. She gazes outside the car window at the rain. “I’m Marilyn Daniels. Princess of Manhattan. Surely you must know I have my ways.”

  I grin, wishing I could wipe the sad look off her face. “That, I do know.” Marilyn returns my grin and a shared moment passes—the stuff that remarks of shared sorrow. Of a common ground. Of family.

  I glance at Elsie—the remarkably strong woman beside me, who despite watching me exhibit a bond with one of the most beautiful women in the world, shows no fear. With her hand held in mine, she only holds me closer as Marilyn and I commiserate. No envy or nervousness in her cocoa-colored eyes. I kiss her gently, not caring that we have an audience or that it might be awkward. I need her to know.

  “You’re an amazing woman,” I whisper to her.

  She grins. “You just figuring that out?”

  I lean into her ear. “And I can’t wait to show you—again—how amazing you are. I’ll show every part of you.” I mutter lower. “Starting with that amazing pussy of yours.”

  She shudders, and I’m tempted to put my mouth on her skin. Holding her hand tighter, I bring it to my lips, ready to press a kiss when the Navigator we’re in suddenly jerks, swerving suddenly in traffic. A horn outside blares.

  Marilyn yells towards the front seat. “Jesus, Kristoph. What the hell was that?”

  “I don’t know,” the broad-shouldered driver shouts towards the back. “We’ve got company. And they’re screwing up the shuffle. Another truck is supposed to take this lane while we veer off from the rest. And now I can’t switch.”

  I glance out the rain-streaked window, catching sight of the company he’s talking about. Big, black, shiny-wheeled company. An Escalade sitting on silver rims. It glides beside us. Unlike the group of Navigators surrounding us, this one travels closer. If my hand were out the window, I might be able to touch it. The knowledge puts a bolt of awareness down my spine and the alarms that my brain so loves start to charge their batteries.

  Something doesn’t feel right.

  I’m ready to say so when the Escalade accelerates, swinging its big body in front of us before slamming on the brakes. Our tires squeal, the rubber screeching against the cement. Elsie starts to fly forward but I slam my hand across her chest, keeping her from falling too far from her seat. The word “Fuck” sails through the air as Daniel swerves, narrowly missing another nearby Navigator as he tries to right himsel
f back on the road with rainwater sloshing the entire way.

  I turn to Elsie, strapping her in her safety belt, smoothing my hands across her hairline. I examine her face. “Fuck. Shit. Hell. Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she replies shakily. “I think I will be, now that you’ve used all the four-letter words I wanted to.” She glances out the windshield. “What the hell is going on?”

  I watch as Marilyn in the seat in front of us tightens her own belt. She looks back at me, and suddenly our recent conversation in the cab of our truck about Heath comes rushing back to me in tidal waves. I glance at Elsie, capturing her gaze. “What’s going on?” I repeat, my voice deepening. “In a word… without using any four-letter ones…” I look back to Marilyn. “Trouble.”

  Chapter 28

  ELSIE

  The rain beats an incessant rhythm on the roof of our black track, a cadence that matches my pumping heart. My pulse is tap-dancing all over the place, my rushing adrenaline making my head light.

  In the deep of night, past the faded lights of open bars and clubs, we veer past Manhattan’s neon lights, careening over the wet streets to God knows where. I can feel the heat of Brett’s body beside me, but it’s nothing compared to the heat beneath my breast, my heart hammering a million miles a minute.

  A bolt of lightning strikes across the sky and I nearly jump out of my skin.

  “Kristoph!” Marilyn screams. “Get us the hell out of here.”

  The big man glances over his shoulder, both of his fat fists wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. He steadies the huge truck. “I’m trying, Miss Daniels! I swear. Just gotta get away from this car. It’s almost as if they’re trying to run us off the road.”

  For once, I agree with the hefty man. The Escalade beside us drives dangerously close, circling our huge car. In front of us. Behind us. Beside us.

  It’s everywhere and nowhere at once, and I wonder for the first time if fame will really be my demise. I’d been so afraid that I wouldn’t reach stardom and fortune that I never thought to stop and wonder what would happen if I did. The fear starts to grip me when the man sitting beside me does first, squeezing my fingers between his, kissing each digit before dropping them into my lap. And suddenly the fear dissipates in his blue-green eyes. He leans over, kissing me on the lips before unbuckling his seat belt. He starts to stand.