Adam's Fall

by Liv Morris

  “Oh, that sounds serious. Even dangerous.” She runs her fingers under the lapel of my tux. Her light touch is sweet and familiar. “I should go change into something else. My mother left a caftan at my apartment—”

  “Beautiful, you’ll do no such thing.” I release her but stay at her side with my hand on the small of her back. The tips of my fingers make contact with the soft and silky exposed skin. “I prefer to have you by my side dressed like sin so I’ll be the envy of every man, and who knows, even some women tonight.”

  “Oh, I get it. I’ll be your sexy accessory. Fitting for the cocky playboy.” She rolls her eyes as she lists my less-than-stellar qualities. “Maybe I’ll just pretend you’re my boy toy. I do have a thing for men in Armani. And besides, I’m older than you.”

  She steps out of reach and covers her shoulders in the black wrap that was slung over her arm. “Coming?” She beckons with a come-hither look. I’m pretty sure she knows I’ll follow her anywhere.

  Eddie stands beside the SUV, waiting for us as we approach. When he waits for me, he never leans on the car like other drivers. He emulates a soldier’s stance. But cracks start to surface as we near him. His eyes are on Kathryn, which isn’t a shock under normal circumstances, but completely understandable considering what she’s wearing tonight. I glance down at her to see a beaming smile targeted right at poor Eddie. Yep, he’s a goner, too.

  “Good evening, Eddie.” Kathryn stops and kisses his cheek before entering the open door of the SUV.

  “Ma’am,” Eddie mumbles under a shy grin.

  I follow behind Kathryn as we slide into the backbench seat. We sit on either sides of the vehicle with a body’s space between. As much as I’d like to have her body next to mine, I’m thoroughly enjoying the view of Kathryn from head to toe.

  I reach across the seat for her hand and rub my thumb over her soft skin. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” Raising her hand, I pepper light kisses over her knuckles. And between the kisses, I decide to express what I’m feeling about her.

  “I’ve never felt this deeply for anyone in my life. Having you here with me is my greatest accomplishment.”

  “Well, thanks for half of that compliment,” she says with laugh. “Being an accomplishment isn’t on any woman’s list, though.”

  “Fuck, that sounded like shit.” I drag my fingers through my hair, wondering if I am truly fifteen instead of thirty-two. “Poor word choice. From the moment we met, the deck was stacked against me. You were warned to stay away, and I’ve been trying to win you over ever since.” I hope my explanation makes sense to her. She doesn’t respond right away, and my nerves start to fray. One of my heels begins to tap against the floorboard as I wait.

  “Relax,” she says, and instantly my worry subsides. “I know what you meant. But it’s not about winning me. It’s about caring for me—another human being. Do you understand?”

  “I think so.”

  “Your other conquests...” I cringe when she brings up my haunted past, the ghosts of other women who’ve sat in the very seat she occupies. “You won them for a night and checked them off your list of instant gratification.”

  “Ouch.” A stinging realization hits me as I imagine how long that list is. Miles long. “I can’t argue your point.”

  “Exactly.” She tightens her fingers around mine. “Winning me over isn’t another notch on your bedpost, it’s about sharing ourselves and experiencing our time... together. In the bedroom and out.”

  She unbuckles her seatbelt and slides over the seat beside me. Her fingers find my hair and twirl the ends. The intimate touch relaxes me and makes me putty in her hands. She could ask for anything at this moment and it would be hers.

  ~

  As we near The Standard hotel, the venue for tonight’s reception, the SUV hits the bumps of the Meatpacking District’s cobblestone streets. The jarring movements signal we’re only a block or two away. Outside my window, I see the sidewalks brimming with the usual Saturday night crowd.

  “We’re getting close,” I tell Kathryn. “I want to ask you one more time before we exit the SUV. Are you sure you’re ready to face Thorpe?”

  “Will I ever be ready to face him?” She hesitates for a beat. “No. But when I came back from Paris, I knew I’d eventually run into him. I worried that I’d see him for the first time by myself.” She angles her body toward mine, her front touching my side and her eyes staring straight at me. “But I’m not by myself. I’m with you. Someone else he’s wronged. We make a united front.”

  “Both our parents were destroyed by him. Mine over time. Yours in an instant,” I say as she looks down when I mention the loss of her father. I place my finger under her chin. I need to tell her my next statement while looking at her. “We are two of his wrongs that will make it right together.”

  Leaning over, I kiss her forehead and let my lips linger there for a moment. “If you need to leave at any time, just say the word.”

  “Thanks, Adam.” Her eyes soften at my affection. “I’ve thought about it today. Even talked with my mother about it. I believe I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Pardon, sir,” Eddie calls from the driver’s seat. “The red carpet entrance is on the Washington Street side, correct?”

  I break away from my moment with Kathryn. “Yes, next to the Biergarten. You should see the limo line soon.” I peer out the front window as we head down Thirteenth Street.

  Once we stop in the line, Eddie climbs out of the SUV and opens the door for us. I exit first and offer Kathryn my hand. The stiletto heels she’s wearing are no match for the uneven bricks on the streets. I have a mind to scoop her up in my arms and carry her inside. But she’d protest, I’m sure, and the paparazzi that have gathered would love to caption that photo. I settle for a firm arm around her waist where I’m practically lifting her as she walks. She eyes me as her feet leave the ground.

  “So, you’re helping me float into the building? Nothing unusual about that.” She jabs my ribs, and I loosen my hold, but only slightly.

  “Look down around your feet.” I point down. “Heel-eating cobblestones.” She peers down, then back up. We both crack up laughing.

  A group of paparazzi are huddled close to the small red carpet area. I take Kathryn’s arm in mine as we approach. Our connection shows the world we are very much together. She peeks up at me with a timid expression. An expression new to her face.

  “Your first red carpet, right?”

  She nods.

  “They will shout questions. Demand answers. We’ll walk right past them with smiling faces because they’re good at finding that one frowning photo and using it.” Her uncertainty disappears like magic. We’re in this together. “I’ll give them a little wave and tilt of the head. Some sort of acknowledgement. They hate to be ignored.”

  “So a smiling and polite snub?” she asks, summing it up perfectly.

  “Exactly.”

  A few more steps and we’re in the line of fire from their cameras. Flashes go off. I hear the buzz starting around us as reporters realize who’s approaching them and cue their cameramen.

  “Mr. Kingsley!” The first shout of my name comes from the pack. “Over here, Mr. Kingsley.” Now the entire chorus joins, off key.

  I turn toward the first voice yelling at me and plaster a smile across my face. Kathryn leans into me slightly as if she’s trying to hide away. Truthfully, I wish we both could, so I hug her arm tighter. But I need this publicity prance in front of the media. It will add to the work I’ve done this week toward trying to restore confidence in my company.

  “Who’s that with you tonight?” The questions remain unanswered as I refuse to do the media’s job for them. “What is your response to Simon Edwards’ family? They blame Kings Capital for his suicide.”

  That question nearly causes my smile to slip and my steps to falter. This question, if true, contains facts that I haven’t heard. Simon’s family? I’ve seen this type of dirty journalism before. Emoti
onal lies to get a rise out of you.

  Still grinning from ear to ear, I stare down the journalist and give her a wave of my hand, acknowledging her presence but ignoring her questions. My actions need to show that all’s well in Adam Kingsley’s world and that I’m bulletproof. Literally.

  “Almost at the finish line,” I mumble under my breath to Kathryn.

  “Thank God,” she whispers in return.

  Once inside the doors of the hotel, with the cameras and shouts far behind, we look at each other and let out a sigh of relief. “We survived.” I take her hand as we make our way to a bank of elevators. “Press exposure is a necessary evil for me. You’ve been lucky as an unknown heiress.”

  “I think my lucky streak might be over. I’m no longer unknown.” She winks. “A side effect of being attached to you.”

  “Attached.” I roll that word around on my tongue, savoring the sound and what it means coming from her. “I like that.”

  “I have no doubt,” she mutters. “Where to now?”

  “The event is up a few floors, but I’d like to take you on a little detour.” A slow smile forms on her lips. “Appears you’re game, too.”

  “Sure,” she says, picking up her step. “You’re not talking about a coat closet, though? Getting caught in some form of undress is the last press you and I need.”

  “No, beautiful. But that does sound tempting.” We stop before the elevators and wait our turn. “I’m taking you to the top.”

  “Another line you give the ladies,” she says with a wink. “Actually, I’ve always wanted to visit. The Top of the Standard, right?”

  “Yes. The Top. It’s a favorite of mine.” I hesitate and start to second-guess my idea. There could be women there I’ve known... intimately. But the earliness of the evening was on my side; most of the women I’ve met there tended to show up late and fully juiced up. Since it’s only seven, I should be okay. I hope.

  “A favorite of yours?” She eyes me skeptically.

  “It is… or was my favorite watering hole.” Kathryn’s eyebrows lift as she eyes me through her lashes.

  “Was?” She smirks. Can’t fool this wise woman one damn bit. “So this is where you’d round up your nightly fun?”

  “Hey, maybe this was a bad idea.” The line for the elevators has thinned, and we’re being signaled by staff to enter a car.

  “Nope, I wanna see your sex stage, so to speak.” She stands taller as we enter the open elevator door.

  “All right.” I gulp and press the button for the top floor. Everyone gets off on the third floor where the reception will be held. Only Kathryn and I remain in the car as it heads up to the top.

  “Come here,” I say, motioning my head to the side. My coaxing works as she falls into my open arms. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  Kathryn’s lips curl into a smile. “But you do.” The slight squint in her eyes delivers a warning that I’ll heed.

  “This is true,” I say.

  She places her hands flat on my chest and slowly slides them up until they’re laced behind my neck. Our position and her plunging neckline give me a perfect view of her breasts. I reach inside her dress to fondle the fullness of her breast and feel only skin, no lace or silk beneath.

  “You’re not wearing a bra, and I like it.” There is not enough fabric on the top of her dress to cover straps or hooks.

  “No,” she whispers. My fingers find her pebbled nipple all ready for my touch.

  My cock hits high above her hip. I place my free hand on her ass then push her against me. Her eyes widen when she feels my arousal. “See what you do to me, beautiful.” Our lips connect and our tongues touch as my declaration fades away.

  The sound of the elevator opening steals the moment from us. We pull apart but don’t fully separate from one another. I drape my arm around her possessively as we exit onto the top floor.

  We turn to our right and I immediately regret this little detour. At the reception stand is a former hookup of epic portions. She was part of a bondage ménage à trois that started in this very bar. I brought Tom here one night for drinks before he was married. He left alone, but I stayed.

  I consider pulling Kathryn back onto the elevator and leaving, but she gazes out the window in awe. The clear glass wall gives a view that stretches out over Manhattan. The twinkling lights of the city shine bright.

  “Adam, this place is stunning,” she proclaims while tugging on my arm.

  Before I can speak, Ms. Bondage sidles up to me.

  “Adam Kingsley.” Her tone is sarcastic and pointed. The hand placed firmly on her hip accents her displeasure. “You remember me, don’t you?”

  I dig down deep in search of the best bullshit smile I can find. “Of course. It’s been awhile. How have you been?”

  “Fine,” she says. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “This is Kathryn Delcour, my girlfriend.” My introduction is met with a wry smile from Kathryn. I don’t have to explain anything to her; she knows this woman and I have a past.

  “Hello.” Kathryn greets Ms. Bondage with polished breeding. “And you are?” Thank fuck. The pressure of remembering Ms. Bondage’s name is taken care of for me. But Kathryn’s side-eye tells me I owe her. Big.

  “Ashley Marshall.” Ms. Bondage rubs her wrists in what has to be a phantom memory of our night together. My cock hardens like a fucking traitor. “My sorority sister and I were here a few months ago—”

  I interrupt Ms. Bondage before she can utter another word. “Please tell your friend hello for me.” Now comes the lying through my teeth part. “It was a nice to see you again. If you’ll excuse us.”

  I grab Kathryn’s hand with every intention of heading toward the bar. She responds to my escape with a giggle as I drag her away.

  “Uh. Okay, sure.” Ms. Bondage speaks to our backs as we leave.

  Once we’ve cleared The Top’s doors, the bar in front of us becomes my target. I want something strong. Shots, preferably.

  “I need a drink.”

  “Hey, Adam?” Kathryn addresses me as we near the bar. “I know who she was and it’s okay.”

  “Seriously?” There’s no way what she had to endure was okay. “You don’t deserve to have my trysts shoved in your face.”

  “Adam—”

  “First I need a shot. What do you want?” I tap on the counter and alert the bartender. He raises his chin, letting me know I’ve been seen.

  “Whatever you’re having.” She shakes her head with a half-smile.

  “I brought you up here for some liquid courage and fun before we’re forced to be in the same room as Thorpe. Instead you met Ms. Bondage.” I clamp my mouth shut, wishing that nickname hadn’t slipped out. “I mean Ashley.”

  “Ms. Bondage.” She chuckles. I expel every molecule of air inside my lungs, because she’s amused instead of pissed. Which is good but still embarrassing.

  “Yes.” I hang my head. “If you want the details, I’ll tell you. Why hide the fact that I’ve fucked around this city like a dog in heat?”

  The bartender makes his way to us, finally. This conversation will require a drink in each fist.

  “Good evening,” the bartender says. Squinting, I try to place him, or remember a name. Nothing. He gets the drift. “What can I get you… two?” He looks at Kathryn and gapes like a stunned fish.

  “We’ll have three shots of your best tequila. Two for me and one for the beautiful lady.” Kathryn looks at me in approval. “What would you suggest?”

  “Since you have the lady with you, I’d choose the Casa Dragones. No after burn and very smooth.” The bartender’s suggestion sounds perfect. I don’t want Kathryn’s mouth on fire… yet.

  “Great. And don’t forget the limes,” I say before the bartender heads off to fetch our drinks.

  “Here you are in your tux at a bar.” Kathryn skims over me with a twinkle in her eye. “A top leader in the financial world, and we’re doing shots.”

  The bartender sits the shots
and limes down in front of us. I reach into my pocket and throw a couple of hundreds on the bar. “Keep the change.”

  “Wow, thanks.” He walks away, looking like he won the fucking lottery. I grin, knowing my simple act of generosity made a difference in his life.

  “Now back to that man in a tux and leader of the financial world,” I say sarcastically. “He’d like to make a toast before we slam these down.”

  I pick up a glass and hand it to Kathryn along with a slice of lime. “I can’t remember the last time I slammed a shot.” She raises the glass with the lime in her hand. Wearing a contagious smile, she giggles under her breath. I’m powerless to her, of course, and return the smile.

  “Here’s to meeting you. Best damn thing that’s ever happened to me.” Our glasses clink, and Kathryn follows my lead as I toss back my head and down the smooth tequila.

  “Wow,” she says between panted breaths. “My mouth is on fire.” She uses a hand to wave some air into her mouth.

  Shaking my head, I can’t help but laugh at her cute display.

  “Here.” I take the glass and lime from her hand. “Let me help.”

  Her eyes widen as I pull her flush against me. Bending down, my lips meet hers. Our tongues lazily play together in a hot kiss tasting of tequila and lime. My lips leave hers sooner than I want, but we’re at The Top, standing at the bar. Not the best place for full-blown PDA.

  “Better?” I peer down at her flushed face and hope the color comes from my kiss, not the tequila.

  “Whoa.” She whistles. “Better but still breathless.”

  “Good.” I down my second shot and take her hand in mine. “Let’s head to the reception, beautiful.” She gives me a firm nod, and we’re off to the monster a few stories below.

  Chapter 15

  Kathryn and I take the elevator down to the third floor after our little escapade at The Top. We are both a little buzzed from the quick intake of alcohol, but nothing sloppy, I hope. After all, the crowd assembled tonight for the meet and greet reception contains the elite and well-groomed of the world. Not a place to show up drunk, but a liquor-induced relaxed would be very acceptable and quite the norm.