“The lady has spoken,” Hayden says to Bassirou, spreading his hands a bit. The deceptively easy gesture feels like a warning. Before I can figure out what he’s saying without words, I see a flash, movement from Bassirou and glance at him. Light glints off metal and I recognize the wicked blade in his hand. He’s had that switchblade since his days on the street corner. Stunned, I don’t hesitate; I just react.
I rush to my mother. Wrapping my arms around her like I can protect her with my very body, I squeeze my eyes closed.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Hayden
The crazy bastard turns to Sabine, who’s draped over a small, frail woman. This must be her mother. And her actions are very telling.
Everything clicks in my mind: she’s here with Bassirou because the sick fuck threatened her mother. There’s no other reason she’d be protecting her mother like a meat shield. She thinks he’s going to hurt her mother.
My blood boils. It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to tear into him and show him his knife and street upbringing is nothing to what I know.
“You’ll never be one of them,” he tells her, gesturing toward me without looking at me. “You and me, we’re from the same world. It’s not that one,” he shouts, waving crazily at my direction.
Sabine peeks back at him, then turns to face him. She’s very careful to position herself between the man and her mother and my heart aches for what this asshole must have put her through. But I know that she needs to hear this. She needs to make her own choice. I’ll keep her safe, but she’s got to be the one to say this has to stop.
Bassirou keeps going, shouting at the room in general. “Look where you came back to! This place, this hell, this is you.” Her expression shifts, and I see her mother move a little behind her.
“This is where you belong. Not in America. Not with him!” Bassirou’s shout is punctuated by a yelping dog in the distance.
Sabine turns to me. The tears sparkling in her eyes overflow down her face. “He’s right,” she says, her voice hoarse. “You should go.” I’m shaking my head slowly, but she’s not looking at me anymore. She’s staring at a spot on the dirty floor.
“This is no place for you. Go home.” Her shoulders slump under the weight he’s put on her and all I want is to really make her understand everything. Starting with honesty about how I feel.
“Your face is my homeland,” I say.
Bassirou’s mouth drops open as she rushes me. Opening my arms, I hold her as she flings her weight into me and wraps her legs around my hips. Her tears wet my shirt, and she clings to me like there’s nowhere else in this world for her.
“I should have given you more,” I whisper. “I should have let you in like you let me in.”
Her feet touch the floor and we cling to one another. “I’m sorry you went through all of this. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
She lifts her head, her lips touching mine for a brief second.
And that tiny kiss tells me everything.
Over her shoulder, I see Bassirou watching us, hatred simmering in his eyes. I let her go and she clings to me a second longer, gathering herself. I pet her hair gently and she finally let's go, sniffling softly.
Everything is so much clearer. Memories flash through me.
Sabine’s tight smile. Telling me I was the devil himself because she’d had 100 million streams on SXz, but hardly any payoff. Now I understand why.
Sabine’s hands claw my jacket as she tries to hold me back, as she tries to pull me away from the real demon that’s been plaguing her life.
I pull free.
I walk right up to Bassirou. I can see his face tighten as he grips the shank. I feel the blade touch my stomach four inches to the side of my navel. We stand there for moment, my eyes locked on his as I silently tell him the next move is his.
I notice the deep-set of his eyes, the irregularity of his breath. He looks old. I feel the blade begin to tremble ever so slightly. There is a moment in any poker game when you either double down or fold. I double.
With my right, I slap his hand away so hard, the switch blade goes flying. It clatters, bouncing on the wooden floorboards at our feet.
I pin Bassirou against the wall and grab his arm. He’s frozen as I pull up his sleeve clear up his arm almost up to the shoulder. Stitches squeak and pop in protest, but I know everything now.
Tracks. So many tracks. Dozens of tiny pinpricks in various stages of use. I glance up into his eyes again. He’s thin, feels almost frail to the touch. His skin is thinner. He’s a fuckin’ hype.
And I know how he’s been paying for all the drugs he’s been going through. The reason Sabine thought I was ripping her off, the reason she didn’t have as much money as she thought she did … was because of him.
“You made her think she couldn’t do it without you,” I say softly to him as I let him go, “but the truth was, you needed her all along. You needed to be sure you had your next fix. You needed access to the money—her money.”
Bassirou is impassive, but I’m not done. I need to air his crimes. Need him to hear it, even if he can’t feel a damn thing. “When she told you she had enough, that she was moving on, you knew everything was crashing down around you. You knew you were losing control of her. The guilt wasn’t enough to keep her tied anymore.”
I hear Sabine’s mother weeping softly in her chair.
“So, you resorted to kidnapping her, threatening her mother and holding her hostage. Did I miss anything?”
He doesn’t say a word but gives a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head.
“You robbed her while claiming to love her.” I want to stab this scum. I want to end him. Coldness and hatred fill my chest.
Suddenly, Sabine’s mother lets out a screech that deafens me for a second. “Get out,” she tells Bassirou in French. “You are a plague on this family!” She points a trembling, skinny finger at the door. “Sortez.”
Bassirou, doing the smartest thing I think I’ve ever seen him do, backs away and rushes the door. He’s gone in a moment and I turn to Sabine, wanting to apologize for all the horrendous things that evil man did to her. I want to make up for his fuck-ups, even if it means taking a lot of time to do so.
But Sabine isn’t looking at me. She’s staring at her mother. Her mouth is open and she seems stunned. I glance at the older woman.
“I am not deaf,” she finally says.
I hear Sabine let out a real laugh. The sound sends relief through me and hope that maybe everything really will be okay despite the hell this amazing woman has been through. Everything these amazing women have been through.
Sabine slips her hand in mine, lacing our fingers so naturally I’m struck by how right it feels. She gently tugs me toward her mother, who’s watching us both very closely.
“Maman,” she says, her voice almost pleading. “C’est Hayden.”
Chapter Twenty-Four: Sabine
We’ve been taking our time going back home. Maman is still being stubborn but I sense her softening. I have no doubt in time I’ll be able to get her out of her hell and bring her home where she belongs. Right now, though, I’m focusing on my life.
Hayden’s here in this beautiful hotel with me and we’re both tired from the travel. Marseilles. Rome. Dakar. And now, Rome.
I roll over on my side as Hayden walks into the room. Patting the bed next to me, I see the little curve to his lips as he walks over and slips under the covers with me. We haven’t done more than hug a lot and steal a few kisses, but that’s just fine.
He cuddles in with me and I give him a quick kiss. We study each other a moment. I take in his incredible eyes, his thick, dark, slashing eyebrows. The wide angle of his jaw, his powerful nose. All these strong, manly traits that blend into an incredibly handsome man.
“You’re beautiful,” He whispers.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I say with a smile.
He leans in, his lips touching mine. Heat rages in my soul. I pull back. “
Tell me something about you,” I whisper.
“My parents started me on piano lessons when I was five.” He kisses me again. “By eight, I was playing the violin.”
“I want to know everything about you,” I whisper, my eyes closing as he kisses me again.
“I’ll tell you everything.”
“Later,” I reply with a wicked grin, kissing him this time. His tongue tickles along my lower lip and I open my mouth. Our tongues meet and heat fills my chest. My heart slams hard, and excitement fills me.
He breaks the kiss and plants one on my eyelid. “I love your accent.” He kisses my other eyelid. “I love your heart.”
“I love your hands,” I whisper as he runs one up my belly just under my breast.
“You’re naked,” he says, sounding a little shocked.
“Bien sûr,” I say, opening my eyes and giving him a sleepy smile.
He hauls the blankets back and they flutter to the ground at the foot of the bed. Fully naked before his eyes, I feel my nipples harden and my whole body hums to life as his hungry eyes explore me.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he growls, kissing my lips again.
He moves between my thighs and kisses the soft flesh between my legs. Squeezing my eyes closed, I press my head back into the bed and lose myself in the sensation of his warm lips on me, his body heat warming up my bottom, and his strong arms hooking behind my knees and holding onto to me.
He hauls me down toward the end of the bed and I cry out in shock as the cool air hits my skin. In an instant, his lips are back on me and I’m lost to the sensations.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, wanting so much more. I want everything he’s willing to offer. Not just sex, not just his mouth. I want all of him.
“Never,” he says, parting my flesh with his tongue. His hands slip up my thighs to my hips, then up my belly before coming to rest on my breasts.
Lifting my head, I realize how sexy he looks like this. Off the bed, he must be kneeling. His broad shoulders are visible, and his head is tucked between my thighs. Both arms are under my thighs and stretch up my body like he’s worshiping me.
He takes my nipples gently between his fingers and rolls them and I cry out, pressing my head back into the bed and just surrendering to him. He can have anything; I’d give him everything.
His tongue works circles around the sensitive nub between my legs and it hits me; this is all for me. He could easily just fuck me. But he wants me to feel his love. He wants to please me. Hayden Stallworth is worried about my pleasure.
And I remember a conversation from what feels like a long time ago.
Imposter. The real Hayden Stallworth would never serve anyone.
Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.
He’s so much more than I’d known back then. He’s perfect.
The wet sounds of his mouth on me fill the room and my heart is beating so hard I feel faint. My body is wound up so tight I feel like my body is about to levitate.
“Mmmm,” he moans.
The sounds are pure delight and the whole world flashes white.
I cry out as rippling pleasure overtakes me, and silver fog fills my vision. I’m aware of him climbing over me, his wet lips touching me here and there like he’s tasting me. I feel him hesitate as the orgasm rocks me.
Suddenly I feel him fill me in one solid, quick thrust. I let out a guttural groan of pleasure. His hips press mine down into the bed and I yelp in shock and sweet surrender. His lips come down on mine and I taste myself, sweet and a tiny bit tart, on his lips.
He kisses me deeply, pumping in and out of me in a way that drives my body wild.
“See?” He murmurs, not bothering to pull his lips away from mine. “You taste delicious.” His tongue traces my lower lip before he kisses me again, his tongue plunging deep into my mouth in a rhythm that matches his hips.
The ripples of pleasure still echo through every inch of my body as he overwhelms all my senses. With every thrust, every slide of his tongue along mine I feel my body gathering again. It’s like every barrier between us is gone when our bodies are together. There’s no misinterpretation of our bodies. Everything is movement.
My hips buck up into him and the pressure on my pelvic bone is almost too much. I open my eyes as he gently brushes my hair back from my face.
“I can never get tired of seeing you come,” he says, his eyes on mine.
“I want to feel you come,” I whisper. I pull away, nudging him out of me and with both hands roll the condom off him. I feel his cock with my hands, amazed by the hardness of his shaft. My pussy tingles. I want all of him. Now. I love him.
I adjust myself just enough so that the lips of my puss are an inch away from the tip of his desire. I spread my legs as wide as I can. I am his and he is mine. He takes me in one lust-filled thrust. His pupils dilate. The world fractures and pleasure screams through me as he pushes home again. I feel him swelling within me, see the subtle sheen of sweat on his skin, see his muscles working as he fills me again and again as my body tightens around him.
“You feel so good, Sabine,” he says, his lips touching mine again.
I open my mouth, surrendering as the waves of pleasure ripple through every inch of my being. I want nothing between us, only his skin and mine. I lift my arms above my head and plead with him to fuck me as hard as he can. As he thrusts with all his force, I tell him that I am his. Our tongues meet, dance, and I feel him begin to shudder.
“Come inside,” I say softly. “I want to see you come inside me.”
He moans. His face is beautiful agony as he fucks me. Then he gives way. I see his eyes narrow, see the relief in his features and the warmth that quickly follows as his hips slow a bit.
His lips meet mine quickly then collapses on me. I feel his breath on the nape of my neck. He rolls off me and reaches for me to hold.
“You’re fucking amazing,” he finally says after a few minutes.
“Piano? Violin?” I ask, a smile on my face as my heart begins to return to normal. He lifts his head to study me.
“I taught myself drums in high school,” he says, holding me tighter as I stroke his are absentmindedly. “It was my big rebellion move.”
“Oooo, better watch out for you, you big rebel,” I laugh, thinking back on my own rebellious adolescence in Paris in meeting Bassirou. But, oddly enough, the thought doesn’t bring me pain.
“I also took up the sax in high school.”
“Sax?” I ask. “Saxophone?”
He nods, not even lifting his head off me. “My music teacher, Mr. Carter, turned me on to Gato Barbieri. After that, there was no going back.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, curious.
He chuckles. “That sparked my love affair with jazz. Miles Davis. Charlie Parker. Thelonius Monk. Bill Evans. Music is probably my deepest love and passion … except for you.”
His words make my heart feel full and my whole body warm.
“I could stay with you like this forever,” I whisper, staring up at the ceiling. His naked body draped all over mine. That thought should scare me but I’m not scared.
I’m happier than I have ever been.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Hayden
Three weeks later.
I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s still my Sabine, wearing jeans fashionably torn at the knees and a shirt that shows off her incredible curves. The mic is in her hands and she’s singing her newest song, Love Me Forever.
She’d offered an exclusive sneak peek and asked if we’d stream it live for her. The publicity is huge for both of us, but I don’t give a fuck about that. I’m glad I’ve been welcomed back to my company. That things have worked out even if there are some stipulations.
I have to stay clean. Sober.
That’s fine. I haven’t touched drugs since the pot I’d smoked with Sabine before I chased her down to Paris. Her stunning green eyes meet mine and a smile tugs the corners of her lips. I step closer to her, feeling h
er love and an answering tug inside me.
I told her I’d tell her everything about me. I’ve been working on it, but more time is needed.
Her rich voice fills the little studio, and the space isn’t empty. Everyone but the guys controlling the soundboard are in here. Judy is rapt, fists under her chin. I blink at her. Sabine had complimented her glaring green suit, and I think it almost gave Judy an aneurysm. Not too far from Judy, J.D. is listening, a smile on his face.
Aaron is tapping his foot in time to her song, and Damian’s got his eyes closed. His head is nodding in time to the music.
I glance at Sabine again. Her eyes are still locked on me as her voice flows through my atmosphere. I’m close enough she could touch me, but I don’t need to be closer. I don’t have to physically touch her to be closer to her than I’ve ever been to anyone.
“You’re my world,” I mouth as she sings the same words.
I see the joy in her eyes and think over the time she’d spent writing this song. She swore it just flowed, but then we’d gone at it and moved things around, made it stronger, made it better, together.
That’s really the best summation of our lives. Making it better together.
Suddenly, Sabine laughs, the rich sound filling the mic. I follow her gaze and see she’s watching Judy, who’s mouthing the words with her.
“Sing it with me,” Sabine says. Judy’s eyes are as big as the moon.
“Really?” she says so softly the mic hardly picks her up.
“Yeah!” Sabine says, pulling Judy closer. “This is my dear friend Judy,” She says into the mic for the benefit of the people listening in.
Judy looks like she might explode. Her voice is shaky at first, but Sabine starts moving a little, grooving and Judy’s confidence quickly grows. A second later, both women are swaying, singing together in beautiful harmony.
Sabine is quick to back off and play backup vocals and Judy seems stunned, but quickly lets loose and starts singing lead.
Tech Titans: The Complete Billionaire Romance Series Page 20