by Rissa Brahm
Antonio shuddered as he came around quickly to get the door for her. His breath was caught due to Jana’s exquisite beauty and the disgust lodged in his throat by Johnnie Demonte’s proximity to her.
*
The drive seemed long, even though he drove faster and a bit more aggressively than usual, as to put an end to the torture. Faster the better. He focused hard on the road while absolutely refusing to look in the rearview. At all. Even though the backseat scene was like one of those illicit talk shows that you just can’t not watch. Especially since this time he felt like he had a bit of a vested interest in one of the ‘talk show guests.’ And a deep disdain for the other.
Yeah, side mirrors Antonio. As if the center partition was up. But it wasn’t. He kept it down for her, for her motion sickness. God, if he were in it for the long haul, he’d invest in rear bumper cameras. But thank God Johnnie and Jana were only talking shop. But still, he didn’t dare imagine where the other man’s hands were while they chatted. Or that man’s eyes, those rat-like little orbs, grazing her body, tainting her soul.
He could kill or smash something right now, he swore, because worse still was Antonio’s knowledge of the sickest part of the situation. Without even stealing a peek in his mirror, Antonio knew and read and abhorred Johnnie Demonte’s un-fucking-acceptable thoughts, his revolting thoughts about the woman, the warrior princess in his back seat.
He drove on and got them to Lincoln Center in plenty of time. He told them he’d pull around to this same spot in three hours to wait for them there.
*
It wasn’t hard ignoring Antonio’s iciness, Johnnie being so monopolizing and all. She couldn’t blame Antonio, but she also couldn’t let her mind go there tonight. She had to focus on the task at hand, so she’d kept up the idle chit-chat in the back seat, with the carrot of getting paid at the forefront of her mind.
Yeah, that carrot was how she’d make it through this night. Only three hours. She could definitely do this. An evening taken up by a Lincoln Center performance? Hell, she might actually enjoy herself. She should enjoy herself. She deserved to. And what sleazy-ass things could Johnnie possibly do in such a classy and totally public setting anyway?
*
Three hours of that piece of shit man-boy with Jana.
Until then, he’d try to read, take his mind off of the surreal situation.
He was reaching for his book in the glove compartment when he noticed his small black mp3 player on the seat, the earbuds wound tight and neat around it. She must’ve dropped it over the partition while he was holding their car door open, playing chauffeur for the lovely couple.
CHAPTER 36
She looked more beautiful than he could have imagined, tastier than he knew she could. And he’d seen her everything, her velvety slit, her glistening tits sliding down cold metal poles, tassels on her red, delicious nipples, her smooth, tight ass cheeks divided splendidly by a barely-there thong. But tonight the difference was that she was his and his alone, and he’d be able to peel off the dress he’d gotten her as slowly and methodically as he wanted.
He even got her an open-back halter and pretended to have forgotten the correct bra so she’d have to go braless, her delectable nipples pebbling through the satin fabric, making his cock steel-hard. He wanted the goddamn show over before it had even started so he could get them heading to the real performance of the night.
But he knew he needed the time, the hours, the show’s calming distraction, and the drinks. He went to get them both glasses of champagne the second they entered the hall.
And did she ever get looks; envious eyes from the women and hungry stares from the men. But again, she was his tonight. And tonight he’d have her. Yes, he’d thought that maybe he could wait weeks, but he’d been wrong. No chance, not with her so hot and so close.
He’d expedited his plans.
First he’d use the tip of his thirsting tongue to circle her sweet cherry nipples in the limo…if he could get enough champagne in her by then. If not, then at his place or at the studio. It hardly mattered as long as he got his piece.
But the limo, that image held a special something for him. And the sudden thought of that fucker, Tony, watching and wishing he were in Johnnie’s shoes made him absolutely giddy. Yeah, that was the special something. He’d make sure the partition was down, cab lights on so Tony could see it all.
Except if she wanted a more intimate experience with him, in which case, he’d let the partition be up, but would make her come so damn hard and loud that Tony would feel the pleasure he was missing in his fucking ears. Her moans, “Oh, Johnnie, fuck me. Yes, Johnnie, yes,” would echo in that smug bastard’s head forever. That’s what Tony would get for talking-up his conquest on Johnnie Demonte’s dime.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the tall stem between her slender little fingers.
“Cheers.” He clinked his glass to hers. “To an amazing show we won’t soon forget.”
“Jana? Jana Park? Well, hello there!” A shorter man in a tux with a slightly crooked bowtie came over to them, Johnnie already pulling Jana in as a natural reflex.
“Doctor Brighton—”
“In and out of the hospital, please, do call me Andrew.”
“So good to see you, Andrew.”
A quick shot of unease ran up his spine with her use of the doctor’s first name. It rang in his ears. Had she slept with him? In and out of the hospital? Had she called his name out over and over, the little-man doctor’s tiny prick doing nothing for her tight silken cunt? He could take her blushing cheeks and the bashful upturn of her luscious lips as confirmation of his suspicion. But maybe not. Either way, fuck those god-complex piece-of-shit doctors. One-upping everyone else. Johnnie needed to move this reunion the-fuck-on. He didn’t even want an intro.
“You too. Seems like we keep missing each other when I’m in to see your dad. You’ve been busy, yes?”
Johnnie watched Jana sigh and search for words, hopefully quick words so he could get her seated and comfortable with another glass of alcohol before the curtains lifted.
“Yeah, I have been. Just trying to, you know, make ends meet. Oh, I’m so sorry, this is my friend, Johnnie, Johnnie Demonte. Johnnie, this is my dad’s cardiologist, Doctor Andrew Brighton. He saved my father’s life.”
Johnnie smiled politely and gave him his firmest handshake. Really fucking firm. “Thanks for taking such good care of my girl’s father, doc. Really, thanks.”
He ignored Jana’s sidelong look and kept his wide phony smile spread across his face. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t his girl per se, even though she would be, because to this pompous asshole with a medical degree, she needed to be considered ‘taken,’ unequivocally ‘off the market.’ The good doctor needed to know her status and step off.
He felt her attention shift from him back to the good doctor. “Really good to see you again, Andrew, and enjoy your evening.”
Good. She seemed as eager to move on as he was. She took a few steps in front of him, toward their seats, and then stopped short.
“Johnnie?” she asked, tilting her gorgeous head at him. “Why’d you refer to me as your girl? Not on a date, right? Just keeping each other company, yes? As friends.” Brows lifted.
“Of course, but after going over last weekend’s numbers in greater detail with my father today, you sure as hell are ‘my girl.’ Jana, Saturday night was double—double!—what Friday night was. And seventy percent better than the Saturday night over the year prior! You are pure magic, Jana, and I’d be proud to claim you to anyone who asked.”
“That’s amazing. Really…the numbers…” she said, taking a larger sip of champagne. “I’m happy that our business relationship is having such good results for the club.”
She smiled and took another long drink from her glass as she walked toward their theater seats. He followed close behind her, but with just enough space to maintain his view of her glorious ass draped perfectly by the snug and glistening satin m
aterial of the dress he’d handpicked for her. It made him shake his head in disbelief. Where had this magnificent creature come from? And how did he get so damn lucky to have her re-enter his world?
*
She was mortified. And she felt horrible for Andrew. Had he even brought a date? She didn’t notice any signs of one. Then to run into her! God, he must think her a total bitch, a horrid superficial bitch. “No distractions,” she’d told him when he’d asked her out, and “I need to focus on my father,” she’d explained. And here she is, out at a show. With a man who claims to be her significant other. Her polite letdown, spoken with true words and intentions, had been obliterated. She shouldn’t have said yes to come tonight in the first place. Dammit! She should have said ‘no’ to the dress, ‘no’ to Johnnie-goddamn-Demonte, and maybe even ‘no’ to the entire deal in the first place.
But as she thought that thought, her eyes watched Johnnie take from his wallet a folded check. It read fifteen thousand dollars on the visible half. She felt her shoulders loosen but, God, the look of arrogance in his face made her stomach turn. She watched as he slid the check into the new Dorna Walter purse he’d gotten her, another little item she didn’t want hanging over her head as she knew it probably cost him more than the theater tickets themselves. Always the money. The ball and chain, no, the prison. She couldn’t goddamn wait for the end of her contract, God help her, when she’d leave the purse, the dress, and even the black shoes that she’d bought herself, at the apartment. With his key.
But this is three hours. How was she going to make it two-plus months?
He nodded at her and smiled with his eyes.
Fuck you, Johnnie. “Thank you, Johnnie.”
“Oh, you’re so welcome. You’ve earned it.”
*
The lights dimmed, the show was starting. Thank God.
But his head didn’t turn toward the stage. He kept his creepy gaze on her.
Please let the champagne kick in. At least, with a good buzz, she could ignore him and his ogling stare, his creepy vibe.
And while she watched the show and endured the awkwardness, she hoped Antonio was listening to the playlist she’d made him. Thanks to Laynie and her laptop, she synched all her favorites to the little music device Antonio had lent her. It was Jana’s apology for the way she’d acted–like a damn child, a silly stupid little girl. The last person on Earth to deserve her wrath or her silent treatment was Antonio.
She could fix this. She’d been embarrassed and emotional, that was all. She’d had too much to drink the other night, two beers for her small build left her well-beyond buzzed, especially with how seldom she drank.
But Antonio had stopped her kiss. He hadn’t taken advantage of her and he could have. And from the vibe he’d been putting out, it wasn’t from of lack of interest. The looks they’d shared, the flirty-free conversations––the way deeper ones too––and the general unspoken connection between them while driving together in the front seat of his limousine. That was all real. He’d wanted to kiss her back, she knew it in her gut. He’d wanted to kiss her plenty of times before she made the upward leap.
An independent rush of icy warmth took her throat and face. Embarrassment with a spike of a chill at the finish from a solitary and suddenly disappointing thought. If she was wrong, if he had no interest in her in that way, well…still, he’d been a gentleman. A friend. A man, a fine, sweet man who’d only been good to her, really kind. Really there.
Damn him, though, with his understated virility and his ‘tall, dark and sensual’ mixed with sweetness and strength. He drove her wild and kept her grounded at the same time. Antonio made her realize, after so long, that she’d wasted precious time. She’d not allowed herself any pleasure or joy for herself. Finally, it took him, a limo driver slash martial arts master, to open her eyes. And her eyes were open to him.
But he’d pushed her away when she’d made her move, albeit rash and steeped in slightly-drunken desperation. But from him, no explanation. Not at the time or after the fact. No call, no text, no visit. Just nothing.
He had told her when she’d found Jocelyn Carlson’s used souvenir that he’d since committed to putting his pride before all else. Second to nothing and no one. Jana had stomped on his pride for turning her down, treated him like an unruly chauffeur. Acted like…like…that rich bitch client Jocelyn Carlson. So what did she expect at this point? It made no difference if he had a spark for her like she now knew she had for him. It made no difference at all.
She shook her head and held back the threatening tears while a wisp of a laugh left her mouth. Really how little it mattered, because, in months from now, Antonio would finally be back in his precious seaside town in Mexico while she’d be back in her city, in her prestigious ER, in her rightful role as lead Trauma Team member. Nurse extraordinaire, and all alone.
Alone. She somehow dreaded the mental picture of her lonely future.
But as her boss leaned over the arm of the plush theater seat into her personal space and took a not-so-subtle sniff of her hair, she prayed to God for immediate solitude. She dug up a polite smile for Johnnie Demonte as the curtain drew open and the performance began.
*
Intermission. After downing another glass of champagne he’d handed her, awkward chatter spotted by Johnnie’s own brand of sexual innuendo filled their airspace. She could hardly focus on Johnnie’s swooning words, though. Was she on her fourth or fifth glass of champagne? She’d lost count. But as the second half of the performance began, she surrendered into her seat.
The theatrical performance on stage told a captivating story, really: Boy meets and gets girl, girl leaves, boy settles for another, then girl returns, and passion trumps all when they reunite. Jana’s tears began to collect, but she held them back. Not in front of Johnnie. He was on his umpteenth glass of champagne as well, with assuredly looser hands now, and she just didn’t want him attending to her…at all. If he saw her crying, she could picture him wiping her tears away from her face one by one, and the thought of his touch gave her the chills, and not in a good way.
He was young, that was all. Johnnie Demonte had an innocent crush on her––okay, an infatuation. All she had to do was limit one-on-one time like tonight’s mistake-of-an outing, and keep reminding him of her lines. She’d manage his ‘thing’ for her with kid gloves. And she was okay doing that, as if she had a choice.
Because she still had to help her parents.
Yes, despite the heart-wrenching, blood-curdling knowledge that those bank statements had given her, she still had to help them. She still had to rake in this money, and she’d still have to manage her boss to do it for nine and a half more weeks.
CHAPTER 37
In a blink, it was over. The curtains closed. She startled when his hand brushed her arm to say it was time to leave. She could’ve lingered there just to digest the ending of the performance, but he was already standing, hand extended to help her up. Denying his hand, she stood, but a wave of lightheadedness from the champagne made her stumble and blush. Johnnie caught her elbow, though, and got her steady on her five-inch spike heels.
“Oh God, thank you. How many glasses did I have, anyway?”
He locked her arm with his. “A few, beautiful, only a few.”
Just a few? She felt sloshed, worse than two beers, four beers, six beers even.
Through a blur of people and red-carpeted stairs, she leveraged Johnnie’s arm for balance and forward movement. God, she hated needing him or anyone for that matter.
It felt like forever to get to the limo.
“Ahh, Antonio,” she said looking up at her handsome guardian angel holding the door for her. She started to say more, but Johnnie was already pushing her head down so she wouldn’t hit it as she entered the limo.
“Antonio, huh?” Johnnie asked her.
“Tony is short for Antonio,” she explained, proud to know it. She thought Johnnie really should call him by his real name too, out of respect. Antonio des
erved respect, the utmost. And happiness too. She wanted that for him. So much. God, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him over the last few days. She’d really, really missed him.
She leaned forward to the partition. She wanted to ask Antonio if he’d listened to the playlist she’d made him, but Johnnie held her shoulder. “Sit back, Jana. Antonio is pulling out now.” He patted the spot next to him, and she slid back, more because of the satin material of her dress slipping over the smooth leather seat than her choosing to sit that close to Johnnie. And his arm around her shoulder, forcing her to lean against him, was far too much, but she had no energy or sense of equilibrium to move.
Then the privacy window started to lift as the limo pulled out into traffic. What was Antonio doing? He knew she needed it left down. Panic filled her chest, made worse by Johnnie, who squeezed her to him, more than skeeving her the hell out. And just as she opened her mouth to say something to someone to stop one or more of the completely unnerving happenings going on around her, the limo stopped short.
She moaned as a sudden wave of nausea tore over her. She clenched her teeth and forced her focus ahead of her, through to the disappearing view of the road ahead. She wouldn’t get sick, not if she could keep her eyes on the road. But now she couldn’t even open her mouth to tell Antonio to please, for the love of his interior upholstery, keep the partition window down. Her words and breath were caught in her throat.
*
He’d prepared himself, planned in his mind how he’d get into the driver’s seat and drive. But the disgust and screaming injustice of Johnnie Demonte anywhere near Jana sent an earthquake through his bones. Her arm in his. Her sweet smile for him. Her light laugh for Johnnie-fucking-Demonte.