by Abby Gordon
Hephaestus. She’d known the myth, known how Venus had “settled down” with the fiery god. Tony suspected she didn’t quite understand the sexual aspects though. And wrote that down—little sexual experience, followed by ask how many lovers. He was figuring one or two, probably young men, if not boys, who’d be so eager to get off on their own that they hadn’t thought about her at all.
He didn’t need to, but wrote it anyway—give her at least two orgasms first.
A connection. They had made a connection. Something in her had resonated with him and vice versa. Pippa had felt the tug at that first touch just as he had. Tony remembered the hurt in her expression when he’d let Deedee climb on his lap. And how wrong that had felt. He had immediately moved her off. She was the wrong woman and he didn’t want her on his lap, near his cock. Touching him in anyway.
Tony closed his eyes and let the images of her fill his head—pale blue eyes widening first in surprise and then half-closing in arousal as she imagined what he’d said, the flare of her nostrils as her breathing became quick and shallow. And the rise and fall of her pert little breasts. The huskiness in her voice. Tony glanced in the direction of his playroom. He wanted her in there, a willing submissive to his lusts, begging to come, helpless as he fucked her, screaming out her release.
His erection hardened painfully.
“Next time,” he decided, turning the chair around and lifting the next month of the calendar on his blotter. “When…”
He grinned. Sean wasn’t getting months of time off. He was locked into attending two premiers for his next film about the Pied Piper, which included his eight-year-old daughter Maisie. The New York premiere was in two and half weeks. And the following week, they were back in London.
“That’s when,” he murmured, his thumb pulling up the group shot Sean had insisted on taking with everyone at the club. In a few taps, Tony enlarged and focused so only Pippa’s delicate features filled the screen. “Three weeks and I will figure out how to have you.”
Saving the picture, he smiled and leaned back. The headlines of three tabloids fanned across the corner of the desk blared Sean’s mistake, and Tony nodded. He wouldn’t do that. When he got Pippa, he’d make sure she stayed his.
“Have you and keep you, my pocket Venus. Because I have a feeling that, once I get a taste of you, one night will not be enough.” Gazing at her face calmed him just slightly, gave him focus. “Not nearly enough.”
Chapter Three
“Things are a bit slow tonight,” Anna commented, setting her tray on the bar. “Considering it’s a Friday.”
Glancing about the half-filled room, Pippa nodded in agreement. On the other side of the counter, Tom wiped up a spill and scowled. The other two waitresses nodded, uneasy expressions on their faces.
“It’s what happens,” he muttered, putting a pint glass on Pippa’s tray.
“Don’t you dare blame this on Jessica,” Pippa hissed, whirling on him.
“She knew the rules,” Tom said steadily, but his eyes went to where the club manager was smarming over a group of VIPs at a booth.
“She knew the rules,” Mary concurred. “But someone leaked her name. I was listening to that show. Sean Livingston never said her name. That came from someone in the hotel. Same as her address.”
“I know,” agreed the bartender with a sad sigh. “I know.”
“How could Sean have done that?” wondered Pippa. “He seemed like such a gentleman. He might as well have called up Sir Lincoln and told him he’d left Jessica in his room.”
“And he’ll be here again in a couple weeks,” Anna noted.
“I’m not waiting on him,” Pippa stated, shaking her head. “I don’t trust myself to. I’d probably spill his drink all over him.” She suddenly grinned. “Or better yet, his tea on his lap.”
The other four women giggled while Tom flinched in masculine unity.
“Jessica’s not here,” Mary reminded them. “Will he drink?”
That froze everyone who looked first at her then simultaneously they all looked at Andy Munchson, whose fake laugh rang through the club in the two-second pause between songs.
“Ooo, that sends chills down my spine,” Pippa shivered.
“I just can’t believe Sean hasn’t done anything about it,” Mary complained. “I mean, Jessica’s been fired. God knows what she’ll do now, and he hasn’t said anything. Has he even called her?”
They all turned to Pippa, who shook her head.
“I called her before I came in. She hasn’t heard from him or anyone with him.”
“Poor girl,” sighed Anna. “Trapped in your flat because of the paps. Must be hell.”
A couple hours later, the club closed and the three friends found themselves in their own mini hell. As they walked out the back door, several reporters were waiting.
“Do any of you know Jessica Munroe?” shouted a man, waving a microphone at them.
“What can you tell us about Jessica Munroe?” A tall blonde woman shoved to the front.
“Did you work with her?” A second, heavyset man pushed the woman aside.
“How many hotel guests did she sleep with?” A redheaded woman came in from the side of the group and pushed Anna into Pippa and Mary.
“Was she really a bartender or was that just her title to get into everyone’s rooms?” The blonde sneered after elbowing the heavier man.
Pippa’s anger increased with each question, and when the last one was yelled at them, she lost it. “You filthy buggers! How dare you?” she screamed as Mary and Anna grabbed her arms. “You leave Jessica alone. You hear me? You leave her alone.”
“Here now, what’s this?” Tom’s voice thundered from the doorway. “You lot, get out of here before I call security. You two, get her out of here. Fast.”
As Mary and Anna had at least six inches in height on Pippa, it wasn’t hard for them to pull her away from the hotel to their bus stop.
In New York City, Tony watched the altercation on the tabloid show and gave a tight smile and nod. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, loving the fire and loyalty in her. “Stand up to the assholes.”
Exhausted, Pippa walked right past her mail box in the hall. With a groan, she backtracked and pulled out the envelopes. Going up the stairs, she focused on one foot after the other. It wasn’t until she was in her flat that she went through them, tossing them one by one onto her little desk.
“Bill, bill, bill, trash,” that one went in the bin. “Bill…ohmygod.”
She sat down, staring at the return address. Hands shaking, she carefully opened it, praying hard. Opening the heavy parchment, she had to read the first paragraph several times before the meaning sank in. Pulling her phone out, she called Jessica.
“Pip, do you have any idea what time it is?” her friend complained.
“I did it,” she breathed.
“Did wh…ohmygod,” whispered Jessica. “You got the results?”
“I passed, Jessica. Holy shit, I passed. I’m a sommelier. I did it.” Excitement rushed through her and she danced around her small flat. “I bloody well did it.”
“Yes,” exulted the other woman. “Oh, Pippa, that’s bloody fantastic. I knew you could do it. I knew it.”
“Listen to this - We are pleased to tell you that you finished in the highest percentile of results for the sommelier exams. Our heartiest congratulations to you,” Pippa read the first two lines.
“Highest percentile? Oh, my God,” Jessica breathed. “That’s amazing. Only the top one or two per cent do that. You’ll have everyone wanting you.”
It suddenly hit her and the emotions crashed like a ton of bricks. She hadn’t thought she could do it. Hadn’t let herself believe it. She had told herself that there was no way in hell someone with her background could accomplish anything, much less something this far removed from where she’d started. Her eyes took in the words again
Shaking, wrapping her arms around her waist, Pippa stumbled to the loveseat, crying. “O
h, Jess, I can’t believe it. I really did it.”
“Well, you did,” Jessica soothed. “You did it all on your own…”
“I couldn’t have without you,” Pippa hiccupped. “You believed in me every step of the way. Thank you, Jess.”
“Thank me by applying for real jobs and getting the bloody hell away from Andy.”
“I will,” sniffed Pippa. “I will. I’ve been saving all my tips the past couple months and the money from Sunday… Sorry, Jess.”
“No, it’s okay,” came her response with a heavy sigh. “It’s okay. I knew the rules when I went to his room. I knew he wanted more than a nightcap. I wanted him as well. And I had him.”
Pippa chewed on her bottom lip a moment. A pair of heated blue eyes came to mind. Her skin tingled as if Tony was caressing it that moment. Her breasts swelled and her pussy tightened. For him, she might risk being that close to a man. She didn’t think he would hurt her. Then again, she reminded herself, who would have thought Sean Livingston would behave the way he did?
“Was it really good?”
“Oh, lord,” Jessica breathed. “Pippa, God broke the mold with him. And I can’t regret that. I really can’t.”
“He could have kept his frigging mouth shut,” Pippa groused.
“That would have been nice,” agreed Jessica.
“Are they still out there?”
“A couple of them are. It’s like they’re taking turns to make sure I can’t get away.”
“There were some of them at the hotel tonight as we were leaving.”
“I saw,” Jessica laughed slightly. “Oh, Pippa, I love you. You were bloody magnificent. A warrior like Boadicea.”
“Thank God, Tom was there and not Andy,” she giggled.
“Thank God, indeed. Now, as soon as this blows over, we’re celebrating your results properly. I have a bottle of Lavendal seventy-two.”
Pippa nearly dropped her phone. One of the most expensive champagnes. She knew because of her studying. The Lavendal family had owned their vineyard for more than four hundred years, consistently producing the best nearly every year. And Jessica had bought a bottle. For her.
“My God, Jess,” she breathed. “That costs the earth!”
“I bought it the day you took your exams. So, when the paps lose interest in staking out my flat, you’ll come over and we’ll order takeout and celebrate. Agreed?”
“Agreed. Jess, you are the best.”
****
At the ringtone, Tony lunged across the room and snatched up his phone.
“Where the hell have you been the past seven days?” he demanded. “Do you have any idea what a fucking mess you’ve made?”
“Yes,” Sean’s voice came calmly over the phone. “And I’m working to fix it.”
“About fucking time,” Tony snarled, reaching for pen and his notepad. “What do you want the statement to say?”
“No statement. Yet.”
“Excuse me? Sean, you’ve fucking ruined Jessica’s life. She’s been fired. The tabloids are staking her out. She hasn’t been able to leave her apartment for a week. What the hell—”
“Calm down. I’ve got it worked out.”
“Calm…calm down?” Tony pulled the phone away from his ear, stared at it in disbelief, and brought it back up again. “You’ve lost your mind. What the hell have you been doing the past week?”
“A song a day. Literally. Tony, it’s been absolutely amazing,” Sean enthused. “The music and words are just coming and I really think it’s some of my best work. All love songs. Of a sort. Javik will love it.”
“Sean, did you hear what I said?” Tony couldn’t believe it. Fuck. The man got anywhere near a studio or a guitar and lost track of everything else.
“Yes, I did,” the seriousness was back in his voice. A grim determination Tony couldn’t ever remember hearing. “Pete’s on his way from Miami. Charlotte is meeting us in Teterboro, where I’m sure she’ll tear me a new one. Again. And then I’m getting Jessica.”
Tony blinked. What the hell?
“What the hell are you doing? Getting Jessica? And what does Charlotte have to do with this?”
“Maisie got teased about it at school today. When Charlotte couldn’t get hold me after a couple hours, she called Saul.”
“Shit,” muttered Tony. “None of us thought of that.”
“Idiots,” replied Sean. “Anyway, I’m getting Jessica and bringing her back to the island.”
“Br…bringing her—” Tony stopped himself when he realized he sounded like an idiot to himself. “Sean, I’m not sure that will help the situation. The studio’s talking about dropping you from all promo work for Pied Piper. This is huge. It’s one thing to have a reputation like yours, but it’s entirely different to get people fired and ruin them.”
“I’m going to get Jessica and take care of her from now on.”
The words took a minute to sink in and register.
“Are you talking permanently? As in marriage?”
“Absolutely, but I am going to give her a chance to realize what it’s like to be around me on a full-time basis.”
“That could scare her away completely,” muttered Tony. “You’re not the easiest person to live with.”
“I’ve grown up since school,” Sean said defensively.
“Really? How? Your clothes make a bigger pile on the floor now. Oh, I got it. You’ve only blown up three microwaves instead of an entire chem lab.”
“Two,” Sean corrected him. “The third one wasn’t my fault.”
“Yes, it was. You didn’t take the metal lid off the way the instructions said.”
“Whatever,” Sean dismissed the incident.
“Sean, you get obsessed with your music and lose all track of time. That’s why it takes three of us at times to handle you and…” Tony heard Sean muttering to himself. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure I save my work. I’m serious, Tony. This is my best work. I got inspired and it just won’t stop.”
“I’m surprised you’re leaving the studio,” drawled Tony.
“Jessica is more important. Ah, Pete’s here with the plane. I’ll call when I get to Teterboro, if I get a chance. If not, well, you’ll probably hear about whatever happens in London.”
“Sean, Jessica might not want anything to do with you after the hell she’s been through the past week.”
“She will,” came the confident reply before the call ended.
Putting his phone down, Tony muttered a few choice oaths.
“That’s it. I quit. I love the guy like my brother, but I can’t fucking take this anymore.”
****
Anna came running into the club. “Tom, turn the telly on. Quick,” she yelled.
Clearly fearing a disaster, the bartender grabbed the remote and hit the buttons. The screen showed a black SUV, a black limousine, and a second SUV. The reporter, a red-haired woman, was practically dancing.
“That’s Jess’s building,” Pippa whispered, holding onto the bar and staring up at the screen as other club staff from waitresses to the DJ gathered. “What’s happened?”
“She was one of the ones outside the other night when we left,” Mary scowled.
“There has been no word from anyone. Sean Livingston didn’t speak as he got out of the car and walked between a double line of bodyguards to the front door of Jessica Munroe’s building.”
A replay showed on the screen. They saw the three vehicles pull up. The guards lined up and then the limo driver got out, his gaze moving around before he opened the passenger door. Sean Livingston appeared in a knee-length gray cashmere coat, dark eyes as hard as his expression. He walked through the double line of bodyguards, ignoring all the questions being yelled at him.
“He was met at the door by the landlord, a Mr. Chad Jenkins, and let inside. From Sean’s expression, it’s difficult to determine what kind of meeting will occur between the singer/actor and the former assistant bartender who was found in h
is hotel suite bedroom just eight days ago. Miss Munroe hasn’t spoken to reporters or issued any kind of statement. The Lincoln Hotel, where she was fired from, has said only that she is no longer an employee. When reporters went to the Lincoln four nights ago to talk to Miss Munroe’s former coworkers, one got very angry and verbally abusive.”
The clip of Pippa yelling played. Anna and Mary laughed.
“Oh, sure,” Mary jeered. “Don’t show the questions you were asking. Bugger off, all of you.”
“So, we will wait for Sean Livingston to leave and, hopefully, at that time, he will say something to the waiting media.”
“Well, the fucker finally showed up,” muttered Tom.
“What’s this?” Andy bustled into the club. “Standing around watching telly? We’re not paying you to watch the telly.”
“Sean Livingston just went in to see Jessica,” Anna told him.
“Oh, really?” Andy laughed. “Bit obvious this time, isn’t he?”
A few minutes later, the front door opened and Sean reappeared. A pale and weary Jessica stood at his side.
“Didn’t take him long to shag her, did it?” Andy commented.
Pippa tightened her grip on the bar until her knuckles were white. It was that or she’d start throwing things at Andy.
“Oh, the poor thing,” Mary whispered.
“She looks like she hasn’t slept or eaten since all this started,” Anna observed.
Reporters surged up the steps, and they could see the terror in Jessica’s wide eyes and wan face. Sean scooped her up, and they watched her press her face to his shoulder. The bodyguards surrounded them as he carried her to the waiting car. Reporters crowded in, shouting questions. Still holding Jessica, Sean bent low and entered the car. The door closed behind them and the motorcade quickly drove off. Reporters scrambled for vehicles.
“Well, this is a stunning turn of events,” the redhead was saying. “Without a word, Sean Livingston has literally carried Jessica Munroe off and no one has any idea of whether or not she has been kidnapped, coerced or, indeed, if she has willingly left with him.”