“We should talk,” I said, never before wanting to define anything like I wanted to define this.
He made a face. “Every time I come to sign a contract, you end up kissing me.”
“You kissed back,” I pointed out.
His lips rolled in on themselves, and I wondered if he could still taste me. “I like kissing you.”
Groaning, I gathered up all my resolve and stood, lifting him off me as we went. My hands stayed on him even when he was on his feet, keeping him close. “How about we do the contract quick and then get some dinner and talk?”
He nodded once, and I wanted to kiss him all over again. Kissing him, it seemed, was going to be something I would never get enough of.
I just hoped he felt the same.
16
Fletcher
* * *
How could he just sit there like that?
Blandly explaining a contract to me, pointing at words, defining phrases, and basically… getting on my nerves.
He’d literally just kissed me until my knees were weak. Seriously, I was standing here beside his chair all wobbly and unbalanced. And now he was talking about these papers like it was nothing.
Was it nothing?
If it was nothing, why did he keep kissing me?
Why did I like it so much? I shouldn’t let him kiss me again.
He said we’d talk… I didn’t think it would be about this dumb contract.
“Puppy.” Ethan’s stern voice snapped me out of my inner meanderings.
“Huh?”
“Are you paying attention?”
“This paper says I promise to play at the opening, representing Abbott Group, blah, blah, blah,” I said, reaching across his desk for a pen. “Can I just sign it now?”
“You need to understand these things.”
“Why?” I complained.
“Didn’t you say you were going to take on some other jobs and not just this one?”
I made a face, my stomach feeling slightly queasy.
“Fletch?” Ethan asked, his desk chair gliding closer without any sound, one of his large palms settling on my lower back.
I really wanted to lean into that touch. Like really. But I didn’t. My previous thoughts wouldn’t allow it. Pulling back, I hunched over the paperwork, flipped to the last page, and signed my name.
Straightening, I dropped the pen on the desk. “There.”
He frowned, and my heart tightened a little. The idea that he was displeased with me made me not feel so good. “You should never sign something without reading it first.”
“But I trust you,” I said, hand curling around the edge of his desk like I needed an anchor. Suddenly doubting myself, I asked, “Should I not?”
His expression changed completely, eyes going soft and luminous, every ounce of disappointment morphing into something else that made my stomach tumble.
I gasped when he tugged me into his lap, anchoring me in place by wrapping his arms around my waist.
“You can trust me, puppy. I won’t hurt you.” He tugged, trying to get me to lean into him. I resisted at first, but I was weak.
He was big, warm, and comforting. Everything about him made me want to surrender.
When I melted back, his broad chest took my weight with ease, our feet bumping together on the floor.
He sighed in contentment, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Promise you won’t sign things that other people give you unless Ivory or I look over them first.”
“I promise.”
“Good boy,” he said, palms rubbing my stomach, making me suddenly self-conscious.
“Stop,” I said, pushing at his hands, which did not move.
“Why?” he whispered against my ear, making my scalp tingle.
“Because I’m squishy.”
His laugh was like a rumble, like an earthquake shaking around everything inside me. “I like squishy.” The words were accentuated by another pat against my stomach.
I turned my head, pouting, but didn’t push him away.
Chuckling, he held me tight while leaning up to pull an envelope out of his desk. “Here,” he offered, slipping it in front of me.
“What’s that?” I asked, picking it up immediately to look inside. “Agh!” I gasped, spinning to look at him. “Why are you giving me an envelope of money?”
“That’s your pay for the job,” he explained patiently. “I usually don’t give cash like this, but I wasn’t sure if you had a bank account.”
I shook my head. “Never needed one.”
“We’re gonna have to get you one,” he murmured, seeming to make a mental note for himself.
“I don’t need one.”
“That’s a couple thousand dollars, puppy. You can’t just walk around the Grimms with it in your pocket.”
“Who said I would?” I remarked, looking back at the full envelope. I couldn’t believe I was getting paid this much just to play my violin for a bunch of rich people eating tiny snacks off silver trays.
It made me feel almost stupid for turning down the jobs before.
Almost. Some money wasn’t worth the price.
“Well, if you aren’t going to carry it around, where will you put it?” Ethan wanted to know.
“Don’t people usually get paid after they do the job?” I replied with a question of my own.
“Usually. But you need the money now. And I trust you.”
As I turned slightly in his lap, my stare connected with his. “Really?”
“Of course.” I really liked when he talked so softly to me. No one ever talked to me like that before.
“I’ll play no matter what.” I vowed.
“You didn’t answer my question.” He reminded me, turning his head a little on my shoulder to stare at me. “Where will you keep the money?”
“Well, I’ll give some to Earth for rent, maybe buy some groceries for the house since I haven’t been able to for a while and they let me eat.” I began.
“What about Milly?”
Her name on his lips nearly shocked me. Body going taut, I almost bolted off his lap and would have if not for the seatbelt he made out of his arms.
“I want up,” I said, body vibrating with stress.
He released me immediately, but the fact that his hands hovered close when I leaped away was not lost on me.
“How do you know that name?” I demanded, backing away from the desk.
He watched me carefully, measuring the way I behaved. “I heard Earth mention it at the police station. And…”
“And?” I insisted, wanting to know everything.
“I asked Neo about her.”
Suspense and worry made me momentarily dizzy. “What did Neo tell you?”
“He didn’t tell me anything. He said I had to ask you.”
I relaxed, posture slumping a bit. That was good. My brothers won’t tell him anything.
Tilting his head to the side, Ethan’s eyes played over my features, still drinking in every nuance he could. “Will you tell me about her?”
My lungs expanded so much with my indrawn breath that my chest bowed out, making my back arch. I didn’t want to talk about her. Not with him. Not with anyone.
Unable to get the words out, I shook my head.
Frowning, posture straightening in the chair, I knew he was going to ask again.
Knock, knock. The swift rapping sound on the closed office doors brought us both around.
Brows coming together, Ethan glanced at the door. “Come in!”
I really hoped it wasn’t his dad. That man was scary.
It wasn’t his dad but another man in a suit, the kind without a tie. He was tall, but not as tall as Ethan and not nearly as broad either. His build was thin, and his hair was dark brown. He was probably around the same age as Ethan’s dad, but there was something different about him.
Besides the fact that he wasn’t scary.
He seemed almost… weary, and it was the kind of weariness something inside
me recognized well.
I stared at him, unable to look away, fascinated by the lines around his mouth and the creases in his forehead. His hair was brushed back in some kind of style and his clothes screamed of money, but he was more subdued than most of the other rich people I’d met. Like he was missing that dramatic flair that most of the richies possessed.
(Richies = rich people.)
He smiled, seeing Ethan behind his desk, my eyes following his every move. He was graceful in his movements. Something about him seemed oddly familiar even though I knew I’d never seen him before.
“Ethan,” the man greeted warmly, his voice calm. “I thought I might catch you here. Always burning the candle at both ends.”
What does that mean?
“Henry.” Ethan smiled, standing up to offer his hand over the desk. “I didn’t know you were back from your trip.”
“Just got back this morning. You know we’d never be away today.”
Ethan’s face changed. “Ah, yes. That is today.”
I made a sound, curiosity getting the better of me.
The man called Henry startled, swinging in my direction. His blue eyes widened when he saw me standing there. “Oh, I apologize. I didn’t realize you had a guest.”
I waved because he was still staring at me, and I didn’t know what else to do. “Ah, I can go—” I began, but Ethan shut that down fast.
“No. Stay. Henry, this is Fletcher. Fletcher is a violinist. He’s going to be playing at the opening next week.”
“Ah!” Henry smiled, warmth coming into his eyes. “A fellow violinist. That must be why you seem familiar.”
I swallowed, taking a tentative step forward. “I seem familiar?”
He chuckled. “Yes. It must be the musician in me recognizing the musician in you.”
“You’re a musician?” I asked, awed.
Henry chuckled.
Ethan coughed a little. “This is Henry Cossgrove. He’s a famous violinist. He often plays on Broadway and headlines his own performances.”
“Wow,” I echoed, breathless. “You’re like a real professional.”
He smiled. “Well, I suppose so. What did you say your name was again?”
“Fletcher,” I said. “Fletcher Brown.”
“Hmm, I thought I knew everyone in the string circle. Where have you played?”
I fell silent, suddenly embarrassed. I spent some time staring at my shoes, not knowing what to say.
“Fletcher played at Ivory’s last show. It was his first professional performance.”
“Ah, yes. I remember hearing about this young man. People were very impressed. They wanted to hire you for many jobs.”
Lifting my head, I smiled. “I’m sure I’m not as good as you.”
Henry laughed. “I’m old. When you’re old like me, you’ll have experience.”
“Fletcher is very talented,” Ethan put in. “A true natural.”
“Well, if Ethan thinks so, then that’s saying a lot. Usually, my music puts him to sleep!”
“Not true, not true,” Ethan hurried to say, but then he glanced at me and winked.
I tried not to laugh, but a giggle escaped anyway.
Suddenly, everything in the room changed. Henry’s eyes bore into me, and this weird look crossed his face.
Suddenly very uncomfortable, I started fidgeting with my shirt and wiggling my toes. I didn’t mean to offend him by laughing.
Geez. Why are rich people so prickly?
Thankfully, Ethan picked up on whatever was suddenly swirling around and stepped in front of me.
He made a really good shield.
“Uh, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. Travel, you know,” Henry explained.
“Of course.” Ethan allowed graciously. “Was there a reason you stopped by?”
“Well, no. Yes. I hadn’t seen you since we’d been gone, and I wanted to lay eyes on you, make sure you were well. Samantha also sends her love. She’s at home resting before this evening.” He paused. “Which is also why I wanted to drop by. Just reminding you about tonight.”
“I appreciate you coming by. If I’d have known you were back this morning, I would have come over to greet you. Apologies you had to come all the way here. I’ll be sure to get a bouquet delivered for Samantha.”
“She’d like that.” Henry agreed.
“And don’t worry. I’ll remember, just like every year.”
Another wave of some weird emotion went through the room, and Henry cleared his throat. “Yes. Well, I do appreciate that. You know that Samantha and I… Well, we’re fond of you. It means a lot that you’re with us on this evening every year.”
“Always,” Ethan said, the sincerity in his voice making me sway toward him. “And my parents, have you spoken to them?”
“Oh, yes. They’ll be with us this evening,” he said.
Judging from the way Ethan shifted just slightly, I knew Henry tried to glance at me. “I hope you won’t take offense, but I don’t think I’ll be able to be there in person tonight. I will still absolutely look up, and I will remember and be there in spirit.”
“Of course. I know you are very busy. Just having your thoughts is more than enough.”
Ethan made a soft sound, and I couldn’t help but wonder what this was about.
“Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time.” Henry began. “I’ll let you get back to business. Be sure to take care of yourself. Don’t work too much or you’ll end up like your father!” He cackled, and Ethan let out a laugh.
Peeking around my large shield, I watched the man move to the door. When he turned back, our eyes connected. I looked away first.
“Give Samantha my love,” Ethan said smoothly.
“I will do that.” Henry agreed, his eyes finding me again. “I’ll look forward to hearing your performance.”
Nerves coiled in the base of my spine, making my fingers shake. All I could do was nod.
The second Henry was gone, I dragged in air I hadn’t realized I was lacking.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“You really never heard of him?” Ethan asked, a little disbelieving.
“All the musicians I know play in the subway, and something tells me that guy has never set foot in one of those before.”
“You have a point.” Ethan agreed.
“So?” I pressed, so curious. “How do you know him, and what was he inviting you to tonight? Why did you tell him you couldn’t go?”
Ethan seemed offended. “I have plans with you.”
“But I’m just… me.”
While he strolled closer to me, Ethan’s eyes stayed intent on my face, making my ears feel hot and the urge to duck my head intense. I didn’t, though. I watched him advance until he stopped just inches away.
“Exactly. And you are exactly who I want to be with tonight.”
A hint of a smile played on my lips. I couldn’t lie. His words made me happy. “But what was all that about?”
“Ah, it seems we both have some questions.”
My face fell. He wasn’t going to let Milly go. “Never mind,” I muttered, turning away.
“Hey,” he said, drawing me back. “You really don’t want to tell me?”
I shook my head, refusing to meet his probing stare.
Long, quiet minutes passed, and I prepared for his anger.
“All right,” was all he said, drawing my eyes.
He half smiled, seeing my surprise. Grasping my chin, he leaned in. “Stop expecting me to yell at you, puppy. I won’t. You don’t have to tell me. There is something I want to show you, though.” Releasing my chin to step back, he asked, “Will you come?”
His large hand reached between us, probing for mine.
I already said earlier that my instinct with Ethan was to submit. I really did trust him that much.
So of course my fingers slid easily into his.
17
Ethan
* * *
He wanted dinner from a cart.
On the sidewalk.
Of all the things…
I gave it to him.
I was incapable of saying no to Fletcher. It was becoming a serious issue.
“I cannot believe this is what you wanted to eat,” I said the second he bounced himself into the passenger seat of the Mercedes carrying a white Styrofoam container and clutching a small plastic bag filled with God knew what.
“You said I could pick!” he said happily, practically hugging the food against his chest.
Why are you so damn cute?
“That cannot be healthy,” I said, refusing to give in to his adorableness to eye his choice with derision.
The scent of meat, oil, and—well, I didn’t know what—wafted from the closed container.
“It has everything!” he argued, flipping the lid, releasing a puff of steam to reveal a huge plate of fried rice, piles of meat, and lettuce, all of it drenched in some kind of white sauce.
“Look! Protein, carbs… It even has vegetables!”
“Iceberg lettuce is barely a vegetable,” I told him. “It has no nutritional value, and you might as well just drink water. And what is that sauce?”
“Flavor,” he replied, dipping his finger in it to lick it off with a big sigh. “I like this. I haven’t had it in so long,” he said, looking lovingly at his plate.
And this was why he was always getting his way.
Leaning over, I closed the lid, tucking the tab in to keep it shut. “Well, close it up, then, so it doesn’t get cold.”
He smiled, and I swear I almost kissed the shit out of him right there.
“Are you sure you don’t want some?” he asked. “I can go get you some.”
“No, thank you. I’ll grab something at home.”
“I thought you wanted to show me something.”
“We have time.”
He didn’t question me any further, and honestly, it made me feel the trust he said he had for me. Like wherever we were going, whatever I had in mind, was okay because I was with him.
The second we walked inside the penthouse, I dropped my keys on the table by the door and sighed. His massage had done wonders for my migraine, but I still felt like the pain was coiled and ready to strike.
“I’m going to go change. Just go ahead to the kitchen. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Prince Page 15