“I can do this,” was my mantra once more.
The woman reflected at me in the mirror was different. Poised and elegant, I’d even venture to say beautiful in a vain way. She was everything I always knew I could be, and yet, the tremor in my hand belonged to the fear I couldn’t bury in the sand.
I can do this.
I can do this.
I can do this.
Picking up the red lipstick that Zoe demanded I use for tonight, I touched up my mouth. Over the last ten minutes I had picked up the habit of biting my lip and licking them excessively. The poor shade of red had turned into nothing more than a stain by that point.
“I can do this.” Obsessed, I checked to make sure my lashes were coated with mascara, that there were no smudges beneath my eyes, and that no contour line was visible.
My hair had been given a loose, fishtail braid across the top which then blended at the side of my neck into a messy knot. A few curls had been left undone. It was pretty, left most of my neck and back exposed for Hendrix to admire.
Blended, plucked, and teased; all I needed now was some perfume.
There was one scent that Hendrix seemed to enjoy and without conscious thought, I sprayed some over my pulse points and dabbed behind my ear. This was it. Was as ready as I’d ever be for the night to begin.
Grabbing my clutch, a wave of vertigo hit and I sat down at the edge of the bed.
My breathing was coming out in small pants, and my hands shook. Fuck, not now. I’m supposed to be downstairs in five minutes.
Maybe my nerves had to do with the distance placed between myself and Hendrix over the past few days. Since he’d shown up at my apartment demanding answers. Insinuating that he’d been married, and opening a tiny window into his soul, had been wrong on my behalf.
He was pissed, and I, left with the doubt.
So many times over the last three days, I’d sat in front of my laptop tempted to google his name. Put to rest all the questions that played on a constant loop inside my head. To give my inner detective a night off from all the scavenging for answers to questions left unspoken.
Where was she?
What happened?
Do you still love her?
And it wasn’t the freaking contract that stopped me, it was fear. Fear of the unknown and the possibilities it’d bring. How I could break myself if his answers led down a rabbit hold of rejection.
It was simple in the end: I couldn’t do it.
Neither could he, it seemed. Sure, he was home every night and ate dinner with me from one of the many restaurants that catered to his every whim. We’d talk over a glass of wine or cup of coffee after, but always with a certain degree of separation.
Those pictures and her role in his life were not to be discussed under any circumstances, it seemed.
My phone alarm inside my bag shot off, and I silenced it just as quick. With one final quick look in the mirror, I confirmed that I was as ready as I’d ever be.
I can do this.
Descending the stairs with care, I spotted him before he saw me. Jesus, if I thought he was handsome in his day-to-day suit and tie or in the morning with his bed hair and low-hung pajama bottoms, this was something else.
Took my breath away.
Hendrix was wearing a designer tuxedo in all black with a shirt and bow tie in the same color. Black, on black, on black, and damn him to hell, he was delicious. His hand came up then, and while watching himself in the foyer’s mirror, he fixed his hair once more. The large gold watch on his wrist glinting with each flick of his wrist.
Five steps from the bottom floor and his head snapped in my direction. I watched him swallow hard, eyes roaming my frame in the sophisticated ensemble.
“You look…” he trailed off, voice gravelly and full of lust. “Wow.”
“Thank you.” Heat swept over the apples of my cheeks, and I felt flushed. Another few steps, and I was at the bottom meeting his outstretched hand. Up close, I could appreciate the brightness in his amber eyes and the way he managed to make his five o’clock shadow sinful. “Love you in a suit, but this…this is my new favorite. Makes me want to do dirty things with you, Mr. Parker.”
In an instant, his gaze darkened, that feral look of desire was mirrored in his expression. “Oh, Beau, the things I would do to you if we had time.” Closer, he bent and laid a tiny kiss on my exposed collarbone. Nipped the flesh there. “We’d walk into that hotel’s ballroom with my come sliding down your legs. You’d smell of me the entire night, nymph. Wear me as exquisitely as you do this dress.”
“Please,” I moaned, fingers grabbing onto the lapels of his blazer. Instead of answering, he shook his head, wearing a shitty grin that served to make him look like the beautiful asshole he was. “Jerk.”
Walking past him, I looked at myself in the mirror and ignored his sudden intake of air and the groan that followed. Tried and failed to hide my smile while pretending to fix a certain spot on my braid.
Not liking to be ignored, Hendrix came to me, finger dragging down along the ridge of my spine. “Touché, nymph. You won this round.” I couldn’t help myself, and at his pained tone, I laughed. Deep and carefree, I enjoyed his misery and the way he had to adjust his cock for comfort.
“Was there ever a doubt?” I walked to the elevator and entered, waiting with my back facing him. “No one ever said that love and war is fair.”
Warm fingers dipped low on my back, his pinky sneaking beneath the dress’s seam. “Tonight, after all those paid assholes are done kissing my ass, I’m going to fuck you hard. Fast. Without mercy. This is both my apology and warning. In our little battle of wills, I’ll always win, sweetheart.”
“We should leave.” I hated the way my voice betrayed the cool demeanor I tried to feign. “At this rate, we’ll be late no matter what.”
“If you insist, Miss Carter.”
“I do.” Turning around, I reached for the panel and pressed the garage’s button. Ignored the mounting tension—how wet and swollen I already was for him. It was better that way.
Waiting for us downstairs was a car I’d never seen before. Sleek and ostentatious. Sexy. I recognized the Porsche emblem at once, but not the model.
“Glad you approve.” Hendrix walked around me to open the door, helped me slip inside without hurting the long skirt of my dress. With ease, he strapped me in and then went around to his side. Got in.
Silver; a two-seater with more buttons inside than I was used to. The center console was something I’d never seen before, modern and with touch screen technology for everything. Was almost afraid to sit inside of it.
The car rumbled; a strong engine roared while he put it in drive and took off down the garage’s ramp.
“What kind of car is this?”
At my question, he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corner. “Porsche Spider, sweetheart. It’s my fun car.”
While most people had a car, he had ones that were for fun.
“It’s gorgeous.” I felt a tiny bit stupid for not knowing, much less being in his league. It was moments like those that made me wonder just how much money he was worth?
Developers often did well for themselves; real estate was often a sure bet and being that he owned, designed, and built his own properties spoke volumes. That he was a millionaire, I knew as much, but how high on the totem pole was he?
I was so lost in my head that I missed our arrival, didn’t realize this until Hendrix’s hand came into view and his fingers snapped in front of my line of sight. Brought me back to the present.
At once, I recognized where we were. The Loews Hotel on South Beach was known for opulence and a staff that went above and beyond to cater to its guests.
It made me giddy that we’d get to spend the evening here and possibly, the night.
“Come on, nymph. Time to play nice with the old geezers of Miami.” Hendrix waggled his brows, which caused me to laugh. He handed the valet beside him the set of keys while I fixed my dress. “Ready?”
“Not really.”
“Will a quick fuck in the bathroom calm your nerves?” The man looked serious as all get out, so I did the only thing I could. With the hand holding my clutch, I smacked him in the chest and walked toward the hotel’s entrance. Within seconds, he was by my side and shaking his head. “And you have the nerve to say I’m grouchy.”
“Proven fact, babe,” I jested, following his lead through the lobby and down a long hall. Followed the signs with the name to our event. People all around us quieted as we walked through, some with curiosity, and others with what looked to be jealousy.
Made me feel uncomfortable. Judged.
“Ignore them, Beau. Focus on me and only me tonight,” he spoke low so no one else could hear. A waiter paused beside us and offered a champagne flute, which he took two of. Passed one off to me, while surveying the room. “Jax and Crystal are here too, so it should—”
“There you two are!” James came out of nowhere, extending a hand out to Hendrix before turning my way and kissing my cheek. “Marsha was just wondering where you were? Thought you guys might skip the party and hang out by the shore or bar.”
“Guests of honor don’t have the luxury, James.” Marsha sidled up next to him and bumped his hip. Not going to lie, the look on James’s face when he almost dropped his drink was priceless. I laughed, and hard, which seemed to set her off as well. “So happy you came. These things are so boring.” Throwing her arm around my shoulders, she hugged me hard. “Plus, when they get drunk, we can take embarrassing pictures together.”
“I’m in.” Lowering my voice, I looked straight at my date. “Plus, I’m pretty handy with my video editing program. Insta-web-famous, babe.”
“These two together are dangerous,” Hendrix spoke then, but both men looked over at us with mock disappointed expressions on their faces. “Must be kept apart.”
“Impossible, Mr. Parker. Don’t you know I’m stealing her away next week to go shopping with me?” That was news to me, but I nodded anyway and sent him a wink. “And if you piss me off, I’ll keep her indefinitely. Let you have James.”
“Hey!”
“Sorry, Marsha, but I don’t share what’s mine.” His tone, the intense look in his eyes, the hand he extended out for me to take—they all screamed one thing: mine. This man was staking his claim in a public arena for all to hear.
“Good.” Marsha softened and grabbed onto her man’s hand. Laid her head on his shoulder. “Because she’s an extraordinary young lady, and you better not mess up. I got my eye on you.”
“I won’t.” My hand in his, he pulled me closer and kissed my temple. “And she is amazing; an enchanting creature.”
“You two are adorable together,” Marsha sighed while James looked at his empty drink with need.
“Alright, Parker. I’m going to head to the bar and pick up something a little bit stronger. Need anything?” We shook our heads in the negative, and he clapped Hendrix on the shoulder as he passed. “Catch you later, and don’t forget about next Wednesday out on the course. Everyone, including the governor, will be there.”
“I’ll be there.” Not understanding half of what just happened, I turned to look at Hendrix and ask, when a woman on the small stage announced that dinner would be served shortly. “Explain later, but safe to say that I owe you an extra orgasm for that.”
“Promises, promises,” I laughed as another couple stopped us on our way to the designated table. Hendrix’s hand on my back flexed and his posture became stiff.
“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Parker, and with a date no less…where or where did you pick this one up?” The man leered at me, tone condescending as if I wouldn’t understand the backhanded compliment. He was a lot older than my date, around sixty with graying hair and a pudgy center. Looked like those obnoxious, dirty men going through a mid-life crisis twice over.
“Henry, long time no see.” That was it, Hendrix didn’t make a single move to engage him in conversation or shake his hand. Just looked at him with a cold, calculating stare.
“Come now, let’s not be hostile,” Henry chuckled, his hands clapping together once. “I heard you have a new project being backed by the city and I want in. A lot of money to be made.”
“Baby,” I interrupted in a saccharine tone, trying to defuse what I could tell was going to be a nasty remark. His fingers were digging into my hip almost painfully—a clear sign for help. “Can you talk shop on Monday? Please.” Even added a pout at the end, adding to the I’m-a-whore appeal the man thought I held. “You promised me a fun night.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Hendrix bent his head and kissed my temple, his warm breath caressing my skin. I heard his low thank you. “Whatever you want.”
“Excuse me, Miss?”
Detecting the tinge of anger coloring Henry’s tone, I turned to give him my undivided attention. “Yes?”
“Why don’t you go and get us men a drink, along with my wife.” I’d forgotten that he hadn’t been alone and looked over. What. The. Fuck? For a minute, I could not talk, shocked by the appearance of the woman on his arm. Easily mid-thirties and with more plastic surgery done than should be allowed. Breast, face, lip…ass. All fake and made of some sort of chemical concoction that shouldn’t be in her body.
Not that I had anything against surgery, but pay good money and get it done right. Too many horror stories filled the internet with malpractice or surgeries gone wrong.
And she, God help her, was wrong from head to toe.
“Hi,” she simpered, popping a piece of gum in her mouth. “I’m this one’s wife of three years.”
“Happy for you?” I phrased it as a question, not knowing what else to say.
Henry beamed at her, and I felt sick. “I’ll take a scotch, neat, and you, Hendrix?”
“Will order whatever he wishes at our table.” Enough playing nice. I’d never let anyone treat me as if I were an imbecile. “Plus, his office hours are Monday through Friday from nine a.m. to six in the evening. If you’d like to speak with him on a private matter, please make an appointment with his secretary. I’ll be sure to let her know that it’s urgent, and to push you toward the top of the list. News travels fast, as you can understand.”
Everyone was stunned by my tiny rant, and I took that as our moment to make an exit. Grabbing Hendrix’s hand, I waved at the couple and walked past them. Didn’t stop until we reached our table at the center of the room.
Table now occupied by my favorite couple and an older woman who was busy shooting daggers at me. What now?