Not My Neighbor: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  “The GPS tracking on my car.” My dad huffs with some pride. “I flew back early, caught a cab home, and seeing the car gone I tried calling my daughter. No answer. It’s a simple matter to see where the car is via GPS.” He snorts.

  “I tracked it to this hotel, and as chance would have it, I overheard the staff talking about all the roses you’d had delivered and to which room? The Presidential Suite and the rest. Well, you know that,” he says with finality, looking to me again as if silently calling a dog to heel.

  But I’m not going.

  “I’m staying here, dad. You can take the car, it’s yours anyway. But I’m with Blake now, and you’re making a complete asshole of yourself by the way,” I add, feeling my cheeks flush with anger for the first since seeing him here.

  “You’ll come home with me this instant young lady, or you’ll have no home to come back to at all,” he barks, ignoring Blake for now and trying to loom up over me as he steps closer.

  But Blake’s firm hand is on his shoulder and my decision’s already been made.

  “I said, I’m not going, dad. My place is with Blake now,” I tell him, trying to keep a lid on my own rage, figuring there’s been enough excitement for one afternoon.

  “And what about your neighbor,” Blake interrupts, continuing to overlook my dad’s wishes.

  “I’m concerned about him myself, even though I’ve never met the man. Surely he’s turned up somewhere by now?” he asks in a deep, soothing tone.

  A caring tone that along with his touch on my dad’s shoulder seems to work that Blake Mason magic.

  It’s amazing to see the effect he has on other people, even my stuffy old dad, who seems to relax instantly, even becoming emotional.

  “I know, I know,” he murmurs to himself, sitting back down and running both hands over his face.

  “We weren’t best friends or anything, but Nate and I had developed a bond of sorts. Always working and the few hours we seemed to have at home we often spent chatting in the yard or having a beer over the game on TV.” He sighs, talking about the guy like he’s already gone forever.

  Blake listens intently, and sitting opposite my dad again, he places his fingertips together and lightly taps them. Deep in thought.

  “Krystal,” My dad tries again, pleading now. “At least talk to me. Can’t we just go for a walk or something? I can’t just leave this as it is. Speak to your old dad will ya?”

  Blake gives a nod in my direction and suggests we have some food and coffee on one of the balconies.

  I make a face but Blake seems to think the least I can do is sit my dad down and explain things to him. Having Blake try will never work.

  With a sigh, I agree, feeling sorry for my dad and how he must feel. It’s totally unlike him to do what he’s done.

  Brave really, considering he was up against someone the size of Blake and didn’t back down.

  “C’mon dad. Let’s have a chat, we haven’t talked in ages anyway. Not properly.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Blake

  As much as I hate the timing and the intrusion, I’ve gotta hand it to her dad for having the balls to beat his way in here.

  He really did look like he wanted to kick my ass, for a few minutes anyway until he calmed down.

  But how can I blame him or be mad at him? He’s done what any sane man would or should do when something so precious as Krystal gets taken from him.

  I couldn’t say I’d leave a man standing or even breathing if it was me in his position.

  But this Alpha male has claimed his mate. Hard as it might be for her dad to accept, the law of nature always rules, and in this case, I’m the leader of the pack, and his daughter is my prize.

  It’s time for her to move away from living at home and school anyway, time to start a life and a family of her own.

  Our family.

  I sense his pain, but like I hope Krystal’s explaining to her dad, he’s not losing a daughter. He’s gaining someone, maybe even a friend. And he should be much happier having me work with him than against him.

  Nobody wants an angry Blake Mason on their tail.

  I leave them to talk for a while, satisfied Krystal is still close by and that she’s not going anywhere.

  I’d challenge her to walk too far today anyway after the dicking she’s just had. And I’m only getting her warmed up for what she has coming to her.

  I grab some coffee from the room service trolley and something to snack on. The food here really is excellent.

  I can’t get it out of my mind though, how a man could just go missing like that.

  The more puzzling thing is where to even start? Surely the authorities have looked into it, and Macy being a big shot in the magazine business with a reward offered, they should have had some private investigations of their own, surely.

  But I have bigger fish to fry this afternoon at least, and it isn’t long before I dislike the silence of the huge suite.

  I don’t like having Krystal out of my sight or touch for so long, so I interrupt their little chat, bringing in some more food with me.

  This involves me a hundred percent anyway, and Jack’s not the only man who has some things to say.

  Krystal seems relieved to see me and I park myself next to her on a couch in one of the sitting rooms the suite seems to have about a half dozen of.

  Like a hotel inside a hotel, it really is designed for a lot of people to surround one person. Like a President or other similar dignitary with a ton of staff all needing space and privacy.

  Her dad only glances at me, looking beaten as his eyes shift to his hands. Krystal pipes in first, sounding more upbeat.

  “We’ve had a talk and dad’s agreed to leave us in peace for a while,” she says cheerfully.

  “Long enough to let you see how this could all be a huge mistake,” her dad groans, but he shrugs when I hold his eye with mine.

  “What do you expect me to do, a happy dance? My only daughter’s just told me she’s shacking up with someone old enough to be her…” he can’t even say it yet. Not out loud.

  “Now, dad,” Krystal cautions him with a little smile. “We just talked about this, didn’t we?” she asks him like she’s talking to a child, but he nods, breathing heavily through his nose.

  Accepting that whatever deal he and his daughter made is a deal, and he’ll stick to his side of it.

  “Well I’m glad to hear it,” I tell them both.

  “Jack? I won’t pretend to know exactly how you feel, but it’s completely understandable you coming to get your daughter like this, even though I have to leave you disappointed,” I tell him, not meaning to rub salt in, but he scowls at me anyway, looking away.

  “Krystal can and will have a better life,” I continue, “and you can too,” I tell him.

  He scoffs again, his hands on his knees ready to lift himself up.

  The signs of a man who’s heard enough for one day.

  “You’re an accountant?” I ask. “Pretty good one by Krystal’s own account,” I remark, enjoying his expression as it shifts from anger to affection as he looks over at Krystal.

  “So?” he asks, half shrugging.

  “Well, maybe a bit like you, going from one client to the next, I seem to have a dozen accountants all doing their own thing. I’d much prefer it all to be more streamlined. Under one department,” I add finally.

  About as close to asking him if he wants a job or not as I feel like getting it right now.

  The irritation at the interruption to my day planned with Krystal still bubbling under the surface.

  “And what exactly is your business, Mason?” Jack Carter asks. Interested but only just by professional curiosity.

  “It’s diverse. And not something I can explain in one sitting,” I tell him impatiently, never being very good at wooing people over to my side.

  You’re either with me or not, and today I’m offering him something more for Krystal’s sake than his own.

  “Do you ha
ve a card?” I ask him, his hand reaching into his pocket, producing two by reflex.

  I jot two figures on the back and a website address.

  “The first figure is an estimate of my annual revenue,” I explain, handing one card back to him and placing the other on the table next to me.

  “The second figure is a base salary I think would be fair for you to oversee and streamline the accounting process across all investments and businesses, which you’ll be able to research initially through the website provided.”

  Jack Carter has gone pale, looking from me to his daughter and then back at the card again.

  “Have a think about it, Jack,” I tell him warmly, getting up with a hand extended towards the door signaling the interview, chat, or whatever he wants to call it is over.

  I’ve got some much more important business to get down to. The kind I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear about considering it involves his daughter, me, and a very large bathtub.

  Krystal sees him out, all the way to the doors of the suite, spending a little time in quiet conversation before she comes back to me.

  Where she belongs, and with a similar look on her face as her dad was just sporting.

  “You’re not winding him up, are you?” she asks, making me frown.

  “I don’t ‘wind up’ anyone, not when I’m talking about money,” I retort, a little surprised she’d even suggest it, but I guess I can understand.

  Those were both big numbers on the card, and I’m not joking. I do need someone capable to manage my finances. I’m going to need a lot more free time than I already have, now that Krystal’s here.

  Hearing myself sounding all business like in front of my woman, I shake my head and smile. Hooking my arm around her and hugging her close before kissing her.

  “I’ll look out for your dad if he’ll look out for me,” I tell her. “It’ll take some time, but I think we can all get along.”

  “Like family should,” she agrees and I laugh out loud.

  “Like family should, exactly. Now. There’s a big tub of water in there, and a ton of food getting cold. Let’s say you and me go and warm up and fill up on both?” I suggest.

  She squeezes me harder in reply, looking up at me. Her eyes wide with the feelings we share now.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “For what?” I ask her.

  “For not strangling my dad like you did the lawn guy.”

  I pause for a second, realizing how differently things could have gone.

  How differently they probably would have gone if Krystal hadn’t been here to calm me down as much as did her dad.

  I dismiss the thought though, not wanting to dwell on what might have been.

  I’m the king of my castle, and now that I’ve found my queen we can reign over it together.

  Not wanting to talk about her dad for now, let alone think of him as I try to enjoy our bath, I get the water back up to temperature and settle Krystal in it.

  “Where are you going?” she calls after me as I make to leave the bathroom. “To get some food for you to munch on while I wash your hair,” I tell her.

  “Wash my hair?” she exclaims, making me shrug.

  “I may as well tell you now, Krystal. You’re the whole package, but between your hair, your breasts, and your cute feet, I really don’t know which drives me crazier,” I confide in her, pointing out my obvious erection just at the mention of it.

  “My hair…?” she asks slowly as I give a little helpless shrug again.

  “And those other things,” I add, wondering aloud if she’s okay with the shampoo the hotel has, which makes her grin wide.

  “Are you kidding? This stuff’s the best there is. My hair’s never had it so good.” She beams back at me.

  “Or your chest. Or your ass. Or your sweet face,” I murmur to myself as I fetch the whole trolley of food, not wanting to stop until she’s full and had her hair properly washed.

  Then we can see about having a little lay down after.

  To help digest our meal, of course.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Krystal

  It feels weird at first, but Blake’s not kidding. He’s totally into my hair and has no problem washing it while giving me the most intense scalp massage I’ve ever enjoyed.

  Once he’s satisfied my hair is done, he has me wrap it in a towel and joins me in the tub, making me promise to show him how I dry it after.

  Our food has stayed piping hot on the heated serving trolley from room service and apart from never seeing so much food, I still don’t even know what half of it is but it still tastes amazing.

  Blake has me try little pieces of things I’m not sure of from his own servings, feeding me little forkfuls and eagerly waiting for my reaction.

  I have to admit there are a couple of things I’m not over the moon about, but we don’t have to eat like this every meal.

  “Do we?” I ask, suddenly worried I’ll be as big as a house in three months if he keeps feeding me like this.

  All the horizontal workouts in the world could never burn off these calories.

  But my concern only makes Blake laugh heartily.

  “We don’t have to, no. But I like to eat a lot. What I want and when I want,” he explains, eyeing my curves through the bubbles, commenting that I should do the same.

  “Uh. I think I’m big enough, thank you,” I clip, knowing he’s not teasing me but a man of his size really does make even a girl of my size look tiny by comparison.

  “So how long did your dad give us?” he asks, finally bringing up the subject I know he’s pushed to the back of his mind while we spend time together.

  But I think he’s asking this one thing for a reason somehow.

  “Two weeks,” I tell him, taking a big bite of perfectly cooked steak from his fork. The one thing I know is what I like as well as what it is I’m eating.

  “We should have him over sometime, sooner than that though,” Blake says to himself before resuming our feast, not mentioning it or my dad again for a long time.

  Our neighbor on the other hand. Our real neighbor, Nate Macy. We’re both still thinking about that, I can tell and after eating more than I know is sensible I ask Blake about it.

  “What’s bugging you about the guy disappearing?” I ask, full of curiosity. Not for myself, I only wonder for my dad’s sake.

  I’ve never met the man, so can’t say I miss what I don’t even know.

  “I’d like to shake his hand is what’s bugging me,” Blake announces loudly after thinking it over for a moment, his thumb and forefinger on his chin.

  I feel my face twist into a question, raising my brow and wondering if Blake might need a little lie down as much as I do right now, even though we’re practically laying down in the bath together.

  “I mean,” he goes on to explain once he catches my puzzled look. “That if it wasn’t for your neighbor. If it wasn’t for him not showing up, then we might never have even met,” he says, shaking his head slightly as he studies me again.

  As if the idea is unthinkable, which to me it is.

  If I hadn’t met Blake. If we hadn’t...

  If things hadn’t worked out the way they have, I really don’t know where I’d be or what direction my life would have taken me.

  The thought terrifies me as much as I can see it disturbs Blake too.

  “Then we need to find him,” I decide aloud. Figuring I’d like to meet him at least once myself, shake his hand too, and give thanks for the providence of his mysterious disappearance.

  “Oh, he’ll turn up,” Blake says knowingly. And I wonder, I just wonder for a split second if Blake himself has somehow had a hand in the guy going missing.

  He chuckles, reading my thought and shaking his head again.

  “No, Krystal. He’s disappeared on his own steam and he’ll come back by the same method,” he educates me.

  “A guy like that has no real reason to disappear. Not that we know of,” he says, again,
saying things out loud as if he’s also reasoning the scenario in his mind using me as a sounding board.

  “No, he’s got the dream job. A dream house being built somewhere. He’s not missing at all,” he concludes, making me question everything he’s just told me.

  “Other people, including us have decided he’s missing because he’s not where we thought he should be,” Blake finishes with a cryptic smile.

  “He’ll be back. And I’ll wager he has a story of his own to tell when he does,” he says, so confident that I can’t help but believe him.

  We soak in the tub until the water’s lukewarm and we’re both wrinkled.

  “Now, how about showing me how you get that hair so damned perfect.” He grins. Letting me know his spoiling has really only just started.

  “You’ll get pretty sick of it after a while,” I try to assure him, shivering and stifling a groan as he runs his huge fingers through my still wet hair once I’m sitting at the dressing table in our bedroom.

  Our bedroom.

  It would have seemed weird, even impossible to think something like that just a few days ago, let alone picture a man like Blake running his hands through my hair.

  My comment’s designed to warn him off. Caution him against thinking everything’s so new and fantastic. Knowing what a pain in the ass my hair is to deal with on my own.

  But he only smiles harder to himself, looking at me in the mirror and stroking out any tangles so gently, and like such a boss I almost ask him if he’s a qualified hairdresser on top of everything else.

  I don’t though. I know it would only give him a big head. Make him want to play with my hair all the time.

  “And will you let me play with your hair?” I tease him. “Maybe let me shave you?” I coo, secretly wanting to get my fingers in that cleft in his stubbled chin.

  Something about it drives me to distraction every time I even think about it.

  He frowns in the mirror at me, asking if I don’t like him touching my hair.

  Knowing that he knows exactly the effect he’s having on me.