by Gage Grayson
The crowd laughs as the bride and groom have the sense to look abashed, then Oberon saunters up on stage, silences the band, and proceeds with his toast to the happy couple. When his eyes scan over the crowd and find me, he smiles in a way that begets obvious familiarity.
I look at Erik; he’s watching Oberon with his brows furrowed, then he looks at me.
Shit.
“How do you know Oberon, Rose?”
It takes me just half a second to work my story out.
“I’ve worked with the guy before—total asshole, you know. He wanted to buy a house by the beach, but was trying to undercut the price. He’s got so much fucking money, and he wants to undercut the price? Ridiculous. He’s not even the first guy who’s walked into Hamptons Properties hoping to do the same. You’d think, with that much money, it wouldn’t matter in the slightest whether a few hundred grand are knocked off the property price, or not! Anyway, I fobbed him off to one of my associates. Like I said, he was an asshole, I didn’t want to work with him.”
Oh boy, I’m good. That lie was flawless. I can tell by the look of relief on Erik’s face that he’s bought every word of it.
I mean, my excuse isn’t technically a lie. It’s true, for the most part. What I failed to mention is that Oberon was so impressed by my stubbornness and refusal to budge on the price that he insisted I broker all of his future Hamptons dealings exclusively.
Erik snakes his arm back around my waist as he had earlier.
“He really is an asshole. Sorry for making you talk about work again, even if it was accidental. Now, what was that you were saying about surviving against my undrugged cock?”
I can’t help but spurt out some of the champagne I had just drank, causing some curious looks from bystanders.
I jab Erik with my elbow; I feel my entire body heat up when it meets the rock-hard abs beneath his tuxedo.
“I don’t think that kind of conversation is suitable for polite company, Mr. Storm.”
“I’m fairly certain most of our conversation tonight hasn’t been suitable for even sometimes-polite company, Miss Clark.”
I roll my eyes.
“If I allowed your dick to destroy me in one go, what happens to round two, or three, or four? If it’s as impressive as you’re making it out to be, then I want the full package deal. A quickie behind the champagne tower just won’t cut it.”
Erik bursts out laughing, causing a hawkish woman nearby to shush us in irritation. Erik smiles at her apologetically before turning to murmur in my ear.
“How did you know I was thinking about fucking you by the champagne tower?”
“You’ve been eyeing it up the same way you’ve been staring at my dress all evening. Now, either you have some very bizarre fetishes, or you’re imagining fucking me on it. I don’t understand the physics behind it in the slightest, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
Erik leans a little further in and just barely grazes the skin behind my ear with his lips.
I shiver in an entirely pleasant way.
“Then, what do you suggest, Miss Clark?”
I grin wickedly at him.
“It just so happens that I’m uniquely placed to know about more than a few currently unoccupied—”
The end of my sentence is cut off as Oberon’s speech comes to an end and the crowd raise their glasses to applaud the bride and groom. Erik and I both reluctantly join in, putting on a show about having listened to the speech when, in reality, we didn’t hear a word of it.
When the applause quiets down, Erik asks, “What was that you were saying before we were so rudely interrupted, Rose?”
But my words are cut off once more, this time, by a loud crashing noise and the sounds of people shouting.
I sigh. Seems like it’s going to be harder than I had anticipated banging Erik Storm.
3
Erik
All around us is pandemonium—complete, and utter fucking pandemonium.
The wedding cake has been toppled to the floor. Someone has crashed into a limousine.
The very expensive, very large, ornate chandelier that was swinging above everyone’s heads mere minutes ago is now shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor.
One of the tablecloths is on fire.
And, most shocking of all, the champagne tower has been destroyed.
Okay, the most shocking thing is that the bride and groom are once again nowhere to be seen, but I currently hold the champagne tower closer to my heart than the to-be-wed couple, so its loss hits me harder…for purely selfish, carnal reasons.
I look at Rose; her face is pale from the whole ordeal, which isn’t surprising, considering that there’s glass all over the floor, soft furnishings on fire, and injured people everywhere. Her hair, which was so meticulously straight before, is starting to re-curl from the heat and the stress.
I tuck a newly-formed tendril of that hair away from her face.
“Are you okay, Rose?”
She stares at me, wide-eyed.
“What the hell kind of company do you keep, Erik? These people are fucking mental.”
“Hell if I know what’s going on around here.” I sigh. “That son of a bitch Theo isn’t anywhere to be seen, anyway, and I was only here to see him get fucking married. What’s the point in being part of this mess if the bride and groom have run off again?”
I run a hand over my face in exasperation. This was not the date I wanted to have with RoseClark.
Everything had been going so well, even with that asshole Oberon Lawson eyeing Rose up more than once. Even with that vulture of a woman trying to shut the two of us up as we flirted shamelessly with each other. Everything had been going so well.
And then, literally, anything that could go wrong, did.
I wonder if it’s too late—if our date is officially ruined beyond repair.
I glance at Rose as she dusts herself off. She doesn’t look injured, but I could be wrong.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” I ask.
Rose shakes her head with a small smile.
“I’m somewhat miraculously unharmed. What about you, Erik?”
I pause; I hadn’t even considered whether I had actually been hurt or not.
I roll my shoulders back and forth and work a crack out of my neck. I tense the muscles in my chest, then my abdomen, then my thighs, and then my calves. Nothing seems to hurt.
“Everything’s in working order, it seems.”
“Even your cock?”
I burst out laughing at the question.
“Good to see what you’re really concerned about. It still seems pretty much ready to go, you’ll be happy to hear.”
A lascivious smile plays upon Rose’s lips, and I realize that our date has, perhaps, not yet been ruined beyond repair.
I throw her a sideways glance.
“You mentioned you like hard spirits.”
I watch as some color returns to Rose’s face, and her smile widens into a sly grin.
“I do indeed. What do you have in mind?”
“How about Dakota’s? And then see where the night takes us?”
“If you’re paying for all the drinks, then I’m in, Mr. Storm. Dakota’s is, otherwise, out of my usual evening drinks, price range.”
I proffer my hand to Rose, and she takes it with a smile.
“It’s only natural that I make up for a near-death experience with copious amounts of alcohol. Let’s get out of this burning building and call a car.”
Rose shakes her head slightly.
“Can we walk, instead? It’s only ten minutes, and I’m pretty sure I could do with the fresh air, to be perfectly honest.”
I look down at her heels, eyebrow raised.
“If you’re okay with walking in those.”
Rose chuckles, then makes a show of unstrapping her heels in a very suggestive fashion. I suddenly wish we were in a much more private setting; I consider skipping Dakota’s altogether.
Rose smiles at me as sh
e takes off her heels and slings the straps over her arm.
“This way we can walk along the beach. Well, if you take off your expensive Italian shoes, too.”
A sunset walk along the beach sounds too appealing to refuse, so I follow suit and remove my shoes.
Rose clucks her tongue appreciatively.
“You’re checking out my ass, aren’t you?”
“Too fucking right, I am.”
I’m glad that our conversation has returned to flirtatious banter after everything that had just happened, and it’s with a sigh of relief and a giddy run of adrenaline that Rose and I escape the ruinous wedding.
We make it to the beach, walking along on the still-warm sand to the sound of various kinds of music playing from the plethora of beachfront bars and clubs that are located in the Hamptons’ Verona Falls.
I narrowly avoid being soaked by Rose’s hands as we walk by the waves; she seems very much intent on trying to push me over.
“We’ll get knocked back from Dakota’s if we show up drenched, and you know it,” I tell her, though the idea still sounds appealing.
Rose walks ahead of me with her hands clasped behind her back, looking at me over her shoulder with a wicked smile on her face.
“I guess we’d just have to stop by your place for a change of clothes. What a shame that would be, Erik.”
But we reach Dakota’s before Rose’s ploy comes to fruition, and I find myself somewhat regretting arriving at the place bone-dry.
The bar itself is situated a little apart from the others—while everything on the beachfront is pretty damn expensive, Dakota’s is one step above them all. It is the place to be if you find yourself in Verona Falls with a grand or two of disposable income…at least.
Rose and I shake off our feet and put our shoes back on just around the corner from Dakota’s, laughing as we straighten out our clothes and try to fix our hair.
“Do you think we’ll pass for having definitely not just run out of a burning building?” Rose asks.
I take in the sight of Rose, even more beautiful now than before with the dying sun against her back. I run my fingers through her hair, settling it around her face instead of its previous position over one shoulder. The slowly reforming tendrils framing her face are sexy as hell.
Rose frowns slightly.
“I can’t believe I spent all that time fixing up my hair for it to last all of two hours.”
“Trust me, it’s fucking gorgeous like this. You’re beautiful.”
She blushes, and it takes everything in me not to kiss her on the spot.
Instead, I offer her my arm.
“Time to hit up those hard spirits you love so much, Miss Clark.”
“That’s one of the sexiest propositions you’ve thrown me so far.”
“I guess I’ll have to up my game if I’m to possibly compete against them, then.”
Rose grins, the sunlight flashing against her canines. It’s so sexy, it’s almost unbearable.
“I look forward to it.”
4
Rose
I’ve been to Dakota’s once before.
A group of my friends and I had dressed up in our most expensive clothes, drank as much as we could beforehand at Chimi’s—our local Mexican bar and restaurant—then proceeded to nurse precisely one drink each after we got into Dakota’s. It was that expensive.
It wasn’t made for working class locals, unless they had saved for a month just to enjoy one evening in the place, and, even then, it would still be a frugal night.
Having access to, essentially, an open bar in the form of Erik Storm’s wallet makes the place far more enjoyable.
Yet even with that in mind—and two straight vodkas thrown down my throat—Dakota’s is far too pretentious a place for me. It’s full of wealthy socialites, celebrities, and models, as well as businessmen most likely looking for a hookup with models. They all have hidden agendas, and even though those agendas are pretty fucking obvious, everyone pretends that they aren’t.
It’s exactly the kind of place you’d end up finding carbon copies of Oberon Lawson and Erik’s acquaintance, John.
It’s exactly the kind of place I wouldn’t expect Erik Storm to enjoy.
And yet, here we are, with Erik saying his hellos to people he’s had business with before or laughing off the flirtatious advances of some of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen.
I knock back another vodka and put a hand on his shoulder, much to the dismay of the women eyeing him up. I get a bit of a thrill watching them glare at me.
Erik bends his head down a little for me to talk into his ear.
“You know an awful lot of these people, Erik.”
He laughs as he gestures around at the four men he’s currently talking to.
“These guys and I actually go way back in college—I haven’t seen most of them in years! Derek—” he motions towards a sandy blond-haired man with a perfect tan and perfect teeth to match, “—only truly joined us in business a year or so ago, though.”
I raise a questioning eyebrow.
“What took you so long then?”
“I was incredibly lazy,” Derek explains with a chuckle, “as in Derek-if-you-don’t-go-to-class-today-you-literally-won’t-have-enough-credits-to-graduate lazy. I didn’t have the motivation to work hard to be successful. And I didn’t have a great idea to develop either. So I was left behind by these guys.”
He sighs for dramatic effect, then laughs and takes a tequila from the tray of a passing shot girl.
“So how did you get rich so quickly then, if all of that is true?”
Erik and the rest of his old friends all seem to inwardly groan, which makes me immediately regret asking. Derek grins at me.
“Why, using the future of all money: cryptocurrency, of course. I put some money into it in college when it was worthless and basically forgot about it…until the market exploded. Now I can happily say that I’m a billionaire, using the laziest, most annoying-to-hear-about means possible.”
“Fucking Bitcoin,” Erik grumbles, and everyone laughs. “You’re a bastard, Derek, you know. You do the absolute minimum to get through college when everyone knows you’re the smartest out of all of us, and then you don’t even use that intelligence to get anywhere in the world. It’s so—”
“Unfair? Is the billionaire upset that someone didn’t work hard to make their money?” Derek chides.
“Hardly. I’m sure we’ll all thoroughly enjoy watching you crash and burn your entire fortune before you’re forty.”
Derek pretends to wince as the rest of the group laughs at Erik’s remark.
“That burns, Storm. Does your date know you’re that much of an asshole?” Derek asks jokingly.
He, then, turns to face me. “This guy was way too popular for his own good in college. Never said no to a girl, never got serious with one, either. I was fucking envious as shit, to be fair, but Erik acted as if it wasn’t his fault all the girls were falling at his feet—that it was only natural. So, of course, I had to be friends with him. I got all the girls to cry on my shoulder, too, which was even better. Pity banging is—”
“I think we’ve heard enough about the past,” Erik suddenly interrupts, as his old friends choke back a laugh at Derek’s account of their college days.
He looks at me. “Do you want to dance, Rose?”
I give him a smile.
“And miss all this talk of your good friend Derek fucking all your ex-girlfriends? Gladly.”
Derek laughs raucously as we head over to the dance floor.
“Oh, I like her, Storm! Bring her along to the next reunion!” I hear him shout at our backs.
Erik sighs.
“I wasn’t expecting them to be here this week.”
I frown at him as he places one hand on the small of my back and holds my left hand with the other.
“You were avoiding them?”
“For a few years now, yes. I can’t…really be bothered with them an
ymore. There are too many other people in my work life to deal with already. Callous, I know.”
“It must be so difficult having lots of mega-rich friends, especially when they can recount your playboy past.”
Erik bites back a laugh as he spins me under his arm and pulls me back closer than I was before. I can feel his heart beat in time with mine, getting a little faster with every few seconds.
“I wasn’t all that bad, you know. Derek simply likes to exaggerate.”
“Either that or he’s telling the truth, and there are hordes of women out there who know what it feels like to be skewered by all twelve inches of you.”
Erik laughs uproariously.
“You can be pretty crude, you know.”
I avert my eyes.
“Yeah, well, sorry I’m not as refined as the rest of the people here pretend to be.”
Erik curls a finger under my chin to turn my head up to look at him.
“You’re not sorry at all. And you shouldn’t be. I like you this way.”
I smile and put a hand on the back of Erik’s neck to pull his lips toward mine, stopping the motion when he’s mere millimeters away from kissing me.
“You’re right. I’m not sorry. And all of this proper dancing is much too decent and fully-clothed for me, too.”
“Oh?”
The word comes out of Erik’s mouth as barely a breath upon my lips, and it makes me shudder. His hand on the small of my back creeps just a little bit lower, skimming the top of my ass and heating up my insides in the process.
“What kind of indecent activity do you have in mind, Rose?”
I smile against his lips, locking eyes with him to make my intentions clear.
“You know what, with your property dealings being somewhat delayed anyway, why not indulge our selfish impulses while you’re here? Before you know it, you’ll be gone, and I’m pretty damn certain you’ll regret not fucking me when you get back to New York.”
“You make an excellent point. Tell me, would you regret not fucking me when I leave?”
“If only so I know what all of your high school and college sweethearts went so mad over,” I murmur, brushing a hand against the quickly stiffening area of his pants that’s keeping his cock hidden away.