by S. Ann Cole
The elevator doors closed.
One floor down, two floors down, three floo—Noah’s hand shoots out and yanks out the emergency break.
A long-winded sigh escapes me, and I close my eyes and swear to myself. I knew it. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten on here.
Silence stretches. The small space closing in.
And then, a tight, “You’re going back to him, aren’t you?”
Eyes still closed, I reply, “I have no clue what you’re talking about. I told you, I’m going to change my—”
“Cut the shit, Lotty!” he barks, the confined space making his voice louder, tone harsher. “Do I look stupid to you?” His voice gets nearer, growlier, so I open my eyes. He’s off the chair, a foot away, glowering down his nose at me, anger swirling like red smoke in his eyes. “You’re going back to him! After everything, everything I’m doing to protect you, you find out he might be loaded and suddenly you’re interested in him again? I offered you everything, and you rejected that, and now you’re leaving me to go back to a man who’s offering you nothing but abuse? Or are you just as messed up as him and get off on the pain? All this, all that he’s doing, to you, to your family, do you find it romantic? Is that what you want? Is that what gets you off?”
“Screw you,” I whisper. And then louder, “Screw you.” And even louder, “SCREW. YOU. Mr. Van Der Wells!” I let go of my suitcase handle so I can push at his chest. “I’m going back to him because, like I said back in my suite, I’m tired. I’m tired. I’m tired of hiding and I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of you having to save me. I’m tired of feeling weak and helpless. Yes, I’m going back to him but it’s not because I give two craps about him or his money. I’m going back to him to save myself, to fight for myself.” I push him again. “And don’t you dare talk about me leaving you, because you left me first. You broke up with me, twice. First when you offered to help ship me off, and then this morning. Am I leaving Kiera, Muscles? Yes. But you, you.already.left!”
Carefully setting his liquor down on the chair, he slips his hands in his pockets. “Did I?” He cocks his head. “Who’s standing in front of you right now, refusing to let you leave? Who jetted you to San Francisco for your birthday? Who made sure you had the best suite? If I left you, who is this person?”
Eyes glued to his, I shake my head. “If you’re not here emotionally, then you’re not here at all, as far as I’m concerned. I never asked for all this. I asked for you. And you…you left the moment you chose to room with Q.”
The chuckle that rumbles through the tight space is in no way associated with humor. “Sound familiar? Because I’m pretty certain I asked for the same, Lotty. And did you give it to me? Did you give me you?”
My gaze falls to his throat, and I swallow as I get another flashback of him in the rear-view mirror of my cab. And then, I just do it. I just tell him. “I’m in love with you, Noah.”
His mouth opens to argue back, but it’s as if my words registered late because he snaps his mouth shut and takes a step back.
“But I have to go back him.”
His head jerks, eyebrows raising. “Wait, did you just tell me you’re in love me and that you’re leaving me in the same breath?”
“Two separate breaths, actually.”
“Lotty.” My name is a warning.
“He’s not gonna stop, Noah! I have to go. What if you get hurt next? Or Kiera? Or, dear God, Gloriel?”
He laughs. Actually laughs at me. “You’re giving this guy way too much power. But let’s back up for a bit to the part where you’re in love with me.”
Oh God. “Oh. No. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t…I don’t. It’s a lie.”
His smile is slow and torturous. He moves in close. “You’re in love with me. When did this happen?”
Jesus, please, help. “I’m not in love with you, Noah. I lied. I don’t even know why I said that,” I rush out, backing up until I’m against the wall with nowhere to go. “Seriously. I don’t.”
Closing in on me, he presses a hand to the wall on the left of my head. “Back in your suite, I saw your play the moment you asked ‘Is that all?’. I knew you would try to leave, try to go back to him. So here I was, waiting. You see, Lotty, I know you better than you think. I pay more attention to you than you know. Therefore, I know that right now, you’re lying. A minute ago, when you said those words, you weren’t. So stop trying to sell me on a lie.” He lowers his head brushes his lips against mine, then lifts it again to have my eyes. “You fell in love with me. Tell me, when?”
I struggle to control my breathing. Be still my heart. “Wha…what do you mean ‘when’? It’s not like it just happened all at once. It’s you and everything about you and…you.”
“When did you know?”
Oh. I pretend to think about it, but he says my name in warning again. “Okay, I suspected this was the case that afternoon in the gym after you, uh, did that to me.”
“Did what to you?”
“You don’t remember?”
“You mean when I ate you clean out until you started speaking in tongues? Yeah, sure, I remember.”
“God, you’re such a bastard,” I mutter.
“I remember you calling me that, too.”
Tipping my head back, I glare up at him. His eyes are laughing at me. But he arches his brow in a manner that says “go on.”
“You know what happened that night. You told me I was being quiet…I was being quiet for a reason.”
“Because it started to dawn on you that I’m not just the boss, but the boss.” His grin is blinding.
My eyes roll heavenward. “Would you stop?”
“Stop?” he says with a comical, wide-eyed expression. “Do you have any idea how huge my ego is right now? To hear that Charlotte ‘Flirt-With-Everything-That-Moves’ Cooley is in love with me?” He touches two fingers to my lips, caressing, smoothing them over. “I told you before; just kissing you makes me feel like a king. What do you think knowing you’re in love with me makes me feel like?”
“A skunk?”
His gaze narrows, but he’s still grinning. “A god.”
Another roll of my eyes. “Baby, that’s all nice and good—”
“Baby?” His grin grows even wider at this. “Yeah, call me that more often.”
As if he didn’t just cut me off, I go on, “—you do understand and agree that I have to go back to him, right?”
“Ah, yeah…” He leans away to push in the emergency button, hits my floor number, and then turns back to me. “That’s not happening.”
“But Andrew wil—”
“And we’re done talking about your ex. Tonight, he doesn’t exist. Only me.” His hand comes up to tug on my ponytail, my chin elevating as my head moves back. “You’re in love with me. I have a hard-on. It’s your birthday. I can smell your arousal. We’re going back to your suite, which I know you love. Tonight, you won’t think, I’ll see to it. Tonight, you’ll feel. But only good things. Hot things. Mind-blowing things. I’ll see to it. That your life is as close to perfect as it can be, I’ll see to it. But for now, I want those words again.”
I blink up at him. Open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My heart is wild and wicked in my chest. Yes, I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love with him. And I especially love seeing how that revelation makes him glow. It seems he’s a different man every day, and I mean this in a good way. I love all of the faces he’s shown me. And I want them all in rotation so I never get bored. He’s a boss. He’s a king. He’s a god. And he’s mine.
“Give them to me, Lotty,” he whispers. “You deny me a lot of things. Let me have this.”
My mouth is dry, my belly is coiled tight, my panties are wet, and all I want are his lips on mine and his fingers touching me, but to get to that point, I first have to give him what he wants. So, let’s just cross that bridge to get to the prize, shall we?
“I love you.”
“You love me, or you’re in love with
me?”
“I’m in love with you.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
I give him an impish smile. “Like I just won the jackpot. Mainly because if I tell you enough to make you believe it, then you won’t ask me to sign a pre-nup when we get married, and then I’ll take every—”
He shuts me up with laughter in his kiss.
Right on cue, the elevator pings open, and we go back to my suite, which I love.
For the rest of the night, through the feeling of good things, hot things, mind-blowing things, I didn’t think.
He made sure of it.
TWENTY-SIX
“IS ANYBODY GONNA tell me where we’re going?”
It’s 5:35 PM, and we’re standing outside the hotel like a bunch of monkeys waiting for our rented rides. Dressed to the nines, that’s Kiera and me, nothing less. Casual jeans, loafers, and a simple red T-shirt, that’s Noah. Dressed like he’s about to star in a hit music video, all leather jacket, close-fitted jeans and wicked boots, that’s Qwesie—seriously, this guy is his own brand of sexy, and the sonuvagun knows it. In usual all-black attire, that’s Muscles and Mike.
Most of my day was spent getting pampered and powdered at the spa with Kiera.
Qwesie, he rang up one of his FWB in the area and had the concierge hook them up with an eventful day of parasailing, scuba diving, and jet-skiing—all that with his FWB; I wonder what being his woman is like?
Noah, Muscles, and Mike spent their hours together doing “stuff.”
Noah begged me, when he sent me off to the spa this morning, not to think at all about Andrew, and just trust that he would keep me safe. He also stole my purse with my passport and bank cards and hid it, so even if I wanted to, I couldn’t run.
I was livid at first, but then I wasn’t, ‘cause spa.
I was fretting at first, but then I wasn’t, ‘cause spa.
Now, here we all are, waiting, everyone with the knowledge of where we’re headed except me. A birthday surprise, they say. I’ll go bat-squeak crazy, they promise.
Kiera eyes me, takes a breath, and then her shoulders hunch as she looks to the men. “Guys, seriously, just tell her. This is killing me. We’re on our way there now, so might as well, right?”
Noah’s gaze cuts to Kiera, stares, and then he gives out a relenting sigh. “Do you have a flier? Because I don’t have tickets.”
At this, Kiera’s eyes bug out. “Then if we don’t have tickets where on earth are we going?! Lotty and me can flash our tits at the security guards to get in, but what are you prepared to do?”
Amused Noah is not, and he tags me around the waist, tugging me to his side. “You can flash your tits. Lotty does that and we’ll be having problems.”
“Tickets for where?” I ask, needing some answers, like, right the hell now.
As the light in Kiera’s eyes starts to dim, Noah laughs. “Aw, don’t cry, Kiera. I got us something better than tickets. Our own custom section. Side stage. VVVIP.”
The light resurges, and so does her grin. “This is the truth?”
Noah’s reply is a mere arch of his brow.
“Where are we going?” I demand again.
Kiera whips out her smart phone, swipes and types a few times, and next she’s shoving the phone in my face. The screen displays a flier. A concert flier. A Saskia Day concert flier. “No. Way.” Those two words are a croak in my throat.
“Totally way!” Kiera begins talking faster than I can read or hear. “And looklooklook at the guest performances. Stage Dive, The D-Bags, and The frickin’ Mighty Storm!! Totally way! Oh, so totally way! You have no idea how badly I wanted to tell you. When Noah asked me if you’d like that for your b-day gift, I was like yesyesyesyesyesYES, she’ll freaking love it!!! Really, isn’t he like the best billionaire boyfriend ever?”
“Gee, thanks,” Muscles mutters, although there’s a hint of amusement there.
Expression sobering, Kiera’s gaze shifts to him, a dust of panic in her cheeks. “You’re not my boyfriend and I’m not your girlfriend. We’re just sexing. I don’t want a boyfriend.”
“What if I want a girlfriend?”
Qwesie chuckles at this. “Cutie will deep-throat your dick like a porn-star and ride you like you’re the only John that matters, yeah? But mention the word “more” and she’s gone before you can even get the condom off.”
Judging by the tic in Muscles jaw, he’s not cool with Qwesie talking about Kiera like that, but, sagely, he ignores it, and instead pins his stare on Kiera. “We’ll be talking.”
Kiera looks stricken at this, petrified. I’ve known her long enough to know that talk about commitment and relationships freak her out. She avoids them like the plague. So unless Muscles plans on tying her down to the bed, that talk is never going to happen.
Noah nudges me, effecting a tilt back of my head so I meet his intrigued eyes. “So? Am I the best billionaire boyfriend ever?”
“How did you know I’d want this?”
“Because I’m the best billionaire boyfriend ever?”
My fist meets his chest. “Seriously, Noah.”
“That night on the couch, when we talked for almost five hours. You told me you loved Saskia Day and that you wish you could be her sister.”
I burst out laughing. “I said that?”
His expression morphs into one of concern, as though he thinks he thought wrong all this time and I don’t like the gift.
“I do love Saskia Day,” I assure him. “She’s my all-time favorite. But I wouldn’t want to be her sister. Her housemaid, maybe. See, her husband is like uber-hot. If I’m her housemaid, I could seduce him and let him bone me over the dishwater, and it would just be typical to anyone who finds out. Because housemaids screw husbands every day, and all their punishment is merely termination of employment, sometimes they even get a hefty payoff to be quiet about it. But if I’m her sister and I seduce him and let him bone me in her bed, well…that’ll just make me look like a monster, and I’ll get vilified and ostracized. So, what I said that night was an error; I don’t wish to be her sister, I wish to be her housemaid.”
By the time I’m done, Noah is glaring. But Kiera and Qwesie are flat out grinning.
“Up top, girl,” says Kiera, giving me a high-five.
Noah doesn’t get a chance to give me hell about this, as the rented cars arrive on cue. Two black Ford Explorers.
The keys are issued; one to Mike, and the other to Muscles. Qwesie and Kiera get in Mike’s car, Noah and me in Muscles’ car, and then we’re off.
“You’re not the best billionaire boyfriend ever,” I tell Noah, snuggling up to him in the back of the Explorer. “You’re just the best.”
Leisurely, his thumb caresses my bare shoulder. “You know I adore you, right?”
My smile is giddy. “Every time you touch my cheek, yeah, I know.”
As if instinctively, he touches my cheek. “You’re a knockout. Gorgeous. Feisty, testy, unpredictable, and a pain in my ass. But for as long as you want me, I’m yours, alright? For as long as you love me, you own me.”
Lips twisting to the side, I think on this. “Does that mean I get to screw you with a strap-on?”
Narrowed eyes only half-amused, his lips press together.
“What?” I mumble, all innocent. “You said I own you. And I like to experiment with the things I own. I used a screw driver to experiment with Barbie’s Ken when I was ten, while she watched. He didn’t make a sound. He just bent over and took it.”
“You think maybe that’s because he was a plastic doll?” he asks dryly.
“I could lube you up before I—”
“My asshole is not up for experiment, Lotty.”
I mock pout. “Boo. You’re no fun.”
Hand moving up to curl around my nape, he dips his head, forehead to forehead, and whispers, “Let me hear them.”
“I love you.”
“You love me or you’re in love with me?”
“I’m in
love with you.”
“This!” I yell to Kiera over the music. “The highlight of my entire life!”
“Highlight of your life? Girl, I’m standing just feet away from Jake Wethers! Highlight of my life!”
“I can’t wait until Stage Dive comes out. If you don’t hold me back, I’m gonna run up on that stage and lick Mal’s face.”
After declaring this, I feel a dip in my belly as a strong arm hooks around my middle, tugs me back against a hard body, and a stubbled cheek scrapes mine as a deep voice growls in my ear, “Like hell you will.”
“Sorry, Suit,” I return, “But I’m in rock star mode right now.”
“I brought you here for Saskia Day, not these tools.”
“Your mistake.”
He growls again in my ear. My stomach flips.
Doesn’t faze me because right now, I’m having the most fun I’ve had in years.
We have a special, elevated section right off the side of the stage, separating us from the screaming fans. A clear, unhindered view and a special attendant assigned to us to keep us replenished with finger-foods and beverages. It’s perfect. Everything is perfect. This whole night is perfect.
I scream my face off when Saskia first walks on stage with her smashing post-baby body, unable to believe I was really at a freaking Saskia Day concert. She did a fifteen-minute segment. I almost cried. Then she called on The D-bags, and my BFF almost fainted.
After the D-bags, she came on again and blew us away with a thirty-minute segment. We stayed blown away. And then she called up The Mighty Storm. Oh sweet Lort.
I. Cannot. Wait. for Stage Dive! Let me tell you, this concert is huge. Huge. A big freaking deal.
Relaxing back against Noah, rocking to the music and singing along with the band, I scan the occupants of our little section.
Qwesie, dear Lord help him, has found a buxom blonde from God-knows-where and currently has her pressed up against him, his mouth at her ear, one hand up her blouse, palming her breast. Can you believe this guy? Spent the day parasailing and jet-skiing with a FWB, and now his hand is up a different woman’s blouse.