by Paige North
By the time I’m done, Travis is gripping the skirt of my peignoir. He slowly loosens his fingers, all while watching me with a gaze that’s turned the color of a dark, flawed emerald. There’s turbulence in there, and I’m not sure if I’m more afraid of Gary or what Travis might want to do to him right now.
“Has that bastard ever touched you?” he asks.
“He’s pushed us around, given us some bruises on our arms from squeezing them too hard when he wants his way. But he’s never done anything beyond that.”
The unsaid word yet hangs in the air.
I inhale, and the breath hitches in me until I calm myself down. “And I’m not just upset because of my mom’s call. I’m an awful person for leaving her and my brother like I did, but I needed the money to get them out. Jeez, maybe they needed me to stay there more than anything…”
“So none of you would have the means to escape? Fuck that.”
Travis’s jaw is tight as he wipes the tears from my face with his fingers. Then he rests his palm against my cheek, using his thumb to erase the last of the moisture from my skin. With a flood of warmth, I lean against him and close my eyes, relieved that things haven’t turned into the nightmare I expected.
I think I hear a low sound, almost like a growl, come from Travis, but when I open my eyes, he stands up. He walks across the room toward my nightstand, where a bottle of water I’ve been drinking from waits. He brings it to me.
My mouth is dry, the saliva thick from my crying, and I gulp some of the liquid down. Meanwhile, his gaze is still murky with shadows.
“Before anything else, there’s something I want from you, Nova,” he says.
I don’t know what to do except whisper, “What do you want?”
He runs his hand through his dark hair then says, “All I want from you is your mother’s name, the name of her bank, and her account information.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded.
He begins to loosen his tie as he takes his phone out of his pocket with his other hand. “I’m going to take care of this immediately.”
A sense of absolute gratefulness washes through me. Am I hearing him right? “If you want my mom’s information, that means you’re going to—”
“Deposit money in her account so she and your brother can get the hell out of there. That’s precisely what I’m doing.”
I want to cry again, this time with a relief so profound that I’m afraid I’ll flood the room with my tears. But I don’t. I only smile at him as he glances up from his phone screen.
I must be looking at him as if he’s a knight in shining armor, because his expression hardens. “It’s nothing anyone else wouldn’t do. Now contact your mom and get those details.”
He’s ordering me around again, but I can’t overlook his concern for me. The cold billionaire does have a heart, I think. He really does care, even if I’m only his latest charity event.
But could it be there’s more to it? Maybe…
I keep smiling at him. “Thank you, Travis.”
He gives me a clipped nod, then returns his attention to his phone. He starts to walk out of the room, but he stops and addresses me without looking back.
All business again.
“This frees you up to go out tonight, so after you get a hold of your mom, let me know which restaurant you want to dine at and then… Well, the sky’s the limit, but you already know that.”
He’s talking around his kindness, as if hoping I didn’t notice it.
“What do you want me to wear?” I ask.
The question seems to throw him off, and this time he does look back at me. He’s frowning, but it’s not in the bewildered way that I often bring out in him. He’s genuinely perplexed, maybe at the way my woman’s mind works.
I laugh a little. “I thought you’d want to have some say in how I’ll look, just like always.”
A beat passes, and something in his gaze flickers before it disappears, as usual.
“Surprise me,” he says.
Then he’s out the door, but it’s not for good this time. I know he’s not going anywhere tonight without me, and as I rise from my chair to get my phone and call Mom, I feel myself glowing.
My reluctant knight in shining armor, I think again. The man I’m falling for against all my better judgment.
Chapter 14
I’ve chosen to wear the flirtiest, most casual thing in my closet: a white flower-patterned dress with layers of summer material and halter straps. Paired with white peekaboo heels with dainty bows at the ankles and accessorized with a thin ruby bracelet and matching earrings, I look like I’m heading for a day at the polo grounds. Not that I know what that entails, but I can use my imagination.
When I go to Travis, he’s in the library, studying something on his laptop screen. He’s taken off his jacket, and his dark blue tie is loose, his expression serious. But one look at me and his gaze brightens.
I smile, flattered, radiance spreading through me.
Then he raises a brow as he peruses my outfit.
“You said to surprise you,” I say. “So…tah-dah. Surprise! This isn’t exactly the kind of thing you’d wear to a five-star restaurant, but I thought we could have…I don’t know. A different kind of night? Something relaxing?”
I don’t know where I’m getting the brass to suggest something he would probably never plan for us, but he wears a small smile as he leans back in his leather chair. He’s clearly humoring me after the emotional meltdown I had.
“You know I can get tickets to any Broadway show and dinner reservations anywhere on a whim,” he says.
Of course he can.
“I already had a great dinner with you the other night.” And a heck of a lot more when he brought me back here. “Remember when you said you had a certain side of New York to show me? Well, I thought maybe we could see a side that’s a little more…”
“Relaxing,” he says, as if he doesn’t hear the word often. And maybe a killer businessman like Travis Star doesn’t.
“I know that concept hardly exists in your world, but maybe you could explore its definition tonight.” I pause then add, “If you’re good with that. You said I could choose what to have for dinner.”
It strikes me that, wow, I really have some guts.
But he doesn’t give me one of his cold looks. He seems to be turning over in his mind the idea of letting me choose our next meal, tapping his fingertips on the surface of the desk. I’m asking for him to relax not only himself but his firm grip on control. I’m not sure if anyone has ever asked him to do this, and the sheer brass of what I’ve done sinks in even more.
When he glances at me with a glint in his eyes, I smile in surprise. Is he pleased that I’m feeling better and he’s about to give in to my request because a happy mistress means happy times? Or is he merely satisfied because my improved mood is due to him? When I called my mom, I told her only that I was sending a small advance from my job to her bank account, and that’s why I needed her information. Hearing the happiness in her voice was… Well, it made my day. No, my century. How could I not be walking on air at the thought that she and Tate will be fleeing Gary soon?
Travis stands and closes his laptop. “I’ll save us time and call my connection for a show.”
I think that’s a yes to my idea: he’ll take care of our entertainment and I’ll take care of dinner. I can’t believe he’s meeting me half way, but it’s much more than I expected. Maybe he is capable of relaxing.
He gets out his phone and walks away, a hint of a smile on his face. I think he might even be amused by my enthusiasm.
With a bounce in my step, I busy myself by wandering the library. I can hear water running from the guest room, and I guess he’s taking a fast shower. When he emerges dressed in khakis and a tucked-in, simple white button down, he steals the air from my lungs. He’s that gorgeous, even if his clothes will superficially blend in with many of the others in the theater district—if no one looks too closely at the weave o
f his shirt or trousers. He still has the air of a billionaire about him. It’s in the arrogant way he holds himself, the authority he has.
“It looks like someone has a secret stash of clothes in this apartment,” I say.
“Someone occasionally spends the night here and is constantly prepared for the unexpected.”
That’s right. Other women have stayed in this apartment. It’s a reality that never lets me forget its existence.
He jerks his chin toward the door, then escorts me out.
A town car is waiting for us outside, and after we climb in, he says, “You know we won’t have time for anything to eat before curtain.”
“That’s okay.”
“I can arrange—”
At my smile, he stops.
“Time to relax, Mr. Star. That’s the name of the game tonight.” I laugh. “Boy, am I going to love seeing you do it, too.”
His dirty grin tells me that I can expect fifty other ways to find “relaxation” tonight after we return to the apartment.
I can only hope.
The town car drops us off in front of a theater playing the hottest show in the city—one that people are notoriously scalping tickets for in the thousands of dollars. I marvel not only at Travis’s sway in getting us these last-minute seats, but at the fact that there are theaters all over the darn place—almost as many as there are gas stations in my small town. More even.
During the next three hours, the music, the costumes, the energy, the prime seats Travis secured for us…all of them transport me to another place. When we walk out onto the street after the encores, I’m dizzy with joy.
And I haven’t left any of the songs or pageantry behind more than a half hour later, as Travis and I sit on the crowded red steps right in the center of Times Square. Neon billboards flash around us in the dead of night, car horns and the low roar of traffic hovering under a layer of exhaust fumes and aromas from food carts and trucks and the restaurants that all bunch together. On the steps, where everyone else is standing, we have our dinner spread out around us, all from the various food trucks I asked Travis to visit with me. Tamales, jerk chicken, lamb gyros, and roasted chestnuts…we’ve got a definite feast.
Travis seems totally unaware of the women checking him out as he eats more of his tamale, then washes it down with his soda. He dangles the bottle from his long fingers. “How you managed to dig up five-star food in the midst of this neon tourist trap, I’ll never know.”
“Five-star, huh?” I laugh, mostly at his teasing words. “You don’t have to compliment me on my taste.”
“So far, I like your taste,” he says. “But you know that I’ll have to spend an extra hour in the gym tomorrow.”
Travis…lifting weights, flexing his muscles. Be still my beating heart. I only smile at him as I eat more of my gyro, which tastes of seasoned lamb with tomato and yogurt sauce, hold the onions. I sigh, watching the billboard lights that surround us and illuminate all the people moving like human waves over the sidewalks.
I swallow my food, then say, “It’s true that this city never sleeps. It’s just before midnight, and it’s busier than downtown Harrisburg during the light of day.”
“What’s your town like?”
He’s actually interested? Nah, he’s probably making polite conversation until he can get me back to the bedroom, where he most likely meant to have me before my personal issues interrupted his plans.
I shrug. “Let’s put it this way—Harrisburg has one elementary school, one middle school, and a high school. How many schools does New York have?”
“Not enough to keep up with our population.”
I’ve never seen him more relaxed, and I angle my head in question.
I get an eyebrow cock in return.
“I’m just wondering if you visited your massage therapist today or something,” I say. “You’re a different man than I met that first night on the jet, all business, all the time.”
He puts his tamale down in its wrapper, silent.
Shoot, I shouldn’t have said that. Is he thinking of business now? Have I conjured thoughts of the robbery in his London store? I was hoping that the crime had been solved, and that’s why he’s been so mellow. I didn’t see anything online about the case, but I’m not about to ask him, breaking up this wonderful night we’ve been enjoying.
It’s almost as if we’re on a real date, and I want this Travis to stick around for a while.
Feeling the awkwardness, I look at the crowds again; among the tourists, there are costumed people in the Square trying to solicit tips. Two ragtag superheroes argue with each other, probably over their territory. Travis follows my stare.
“Who could’ve ever predicted we’d live in a comic-book world?” he says as if trying to break the ice. “All you see down here anymore are caped characters, masks, and utility belts.”
I want to tell Travis that he was my superhero today, but I’m pretty sure he would shrug that off, so I take another route. “So what kind of guy are you, Travis? Comic-book reader or lover of the Great American Novel?”
He looks at me as if no one has ever asked him such a thing before. Then he shrugs those broad shoulders. The lights playing over him tease his high cheekbones, his tanned skin, his neatly clipped dark hair.
“Let’s put it this way,” he says. “If I had the luxury of reading anything beyond business reports and the news, I’d probably try both.”
The way he says it—with a sense of longing—chips away at me.
“You have a lot of classics as well as beach reads in the apartment’s library,” I say. “Believe me, I’ve looked.”
“A little bit of everything is in there, but those books aren’t for me.”
It’s another reminder of the women who’ve come before me, and I retreat slightly, picking at my food.
He shifts on his seat, then nudges me with his arm.
“How about you?” he asks.
“I like to read anything and everything. Heck, I just like to read. Always have, always will.”
I’m sure he’s already found that out on the Highest Bidder website, just as I’ve discovered the basics about him. The very tiniest basics.
I nudge him now. “TV or movies? Which do you like better?”
“Again, I don’t have time for either.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t watch anything entertaining?”
“It’s time to call it a night, Nova,” he says quietly.
I can barely hear him over the sounds of the Square, but his words are loud and clear. They repeat themselves with every lurch of my blood in my veins, with every breath I can’t seem to take anymore.
Time to go back to the apartment, where I’m not sure which Travis I’m going to get tonight.
Chapter 15
Once the town car picks us up, Travis and I sit in the back seat with our silent driver in the front. He puts up the partition, and the air seems to quiver as I keep my hands to myself, yearning to touch Travis, counting down the seconds when we’ll be out of this vehicle and alone in the apartment.
But he isn’t as patient as I am. I feel his fingers tugging at my dress, and as a raging flush roars up my skin, I grasp his hand, keeping him from doing anything naughty in the backseat while someone else is in the front. Even with the divider up and the world beat music on high volume, I’m anxious about being caught. Travis seems to sense my modesty, and he merely runs this thumb over the top of mine, his caress a hot promise of what’s to come.
When we arrive curbside at my apartment, everything is a whirlwind in the night: how we quickly make our way through the lobby, how we endure the never-ending elevator ride with two other passengers in the car, how we manage to cover the few steps it takes to get to the doorway of my apartment.
But by the time Travis unlocks the door and walks inside, he has apparently cooled off.
I follow him inside, shutting the door. “I didn’t mean to pry—”
He turns to me, and I see the burning nee
d in his gaze just before he brings me against him, crushing his mouth to mine.
On a burst of flame, I sway into his arms. Our kiss is sloppy and desperate, and he threads his fingers through my hair, using his other hand to lift me, pressing me against him so that I feel the hard muscles in his chest against my breasts.
The erotic sensation sends an arcing thrill through me, and as he slows the kiss down, I suspend my hands in the air, helpless. So damned helpless when it comes to him...
He parts my lips with his tongue, ravishing me with one lazy stroke, then engaging me in a longer kiss. I make a soft, greedy sound as he continues to slowly seduce me, exploring me deeply, thoroughly. A thousand volts tear through me, making me wrap my legs around him, bringing my pussy against his belt buckle. The hardness teases my clit, and I rub against it, stimulated beyond rational thinking.
As he nips at my bottom lip then eases into another steamy kiss, he moves into the nearest room. Even as intoxicated by Travis as I am, I smell the leather of book covers, and I know we’re in the library. There’s a lamp on, burning brandied light as he backs me against the shelves, cushioning me with this thick arm as he lets me slide down the length of his body until my feet hit the floor. He looks into my eyes, getting me hot.
Hotter.
Excruciatingly on fire over every inch of skin as well as under it.
“I’ve been thinking about your pussy all goddamned night,” Travis grits as he looms over me, bracing his hands on the bookcase behind me. “Every look you gave me was a tease. You have a way of making me hard without even trying.”
I’m pulling in strained breaths, wanting another kiss, wanting everything.