something … kinda sexy planned. I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise,” I purred, winking at him.
He stared at me as he tried to decide what to do. I took action at his moment of indecisiveness. I grabbed his arm, dragging him through the crowd. I needed to take charge here. I made sure to sneak around Ender and Cindy. Where the hell was the rest of the crew? Probably hooked up themselves. There were a few limos out front. The one we had arrived in was gone. I sighed as sadness hit me hard in my gut.
The giant of a security man walked me to a blacked-out stretch Mercedes, opening the door. I guessed it was one of the Lethal Abel fleet cars. I had no time to ponder such niceties. I needed a plan. I needed to salvage my four-hour relationship that I had spent countless days cultivating. The car started with a purr.
“May I have your cell, please?” I asked the bodyguard. “I just want to text Abel to let him know I’m safe and on my way.”
He handed me his phone through the privacy divider. I texted Abel, posing as the bodyguard who was now driving me to him: “ Hey, just checking you’re home safely. If you need anything, please let me know.”
There, it was done. Now I waited for the return text while I fixed my make-up. I was a mess. I couldn’t face him like this. I made sure my own phone was turned off and waited for what felt like hours …
Then bing! —the text popped in.
Abel: Thanks, man. I’m good. Home. Enjoy the rest of your night. Ttyl.
Great. I deleted the message and passed the cell back to the giant. “Thanks a lot.” He nodded in the rearview mirror.
I burrowed into the buttery-soft leather seats, with my head resting comfortably against the back. Dwelling on the emotional trauma of the evening, which had sucker-punched me in the heart, I wondered: did I have a choice? This was Abel—the hottest, sexiest, wealthiest, alpha male I’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.
The limo slowed as we approached an Art Deco building with beautifully lit landscaping. The building was impressive in size and décor. It housed the Who’s Who of Colorado’s bachelors. As a teenager I would walk by to daydream, imagining what it would be like to live there, to not have to worry about wealth or social status. If you lived at this address, you had already arrived. It was as simple as that. Your address was your calling card. It spoke volumes about your pedigree.
The building was sophisticated with an old-world charm. Damn . He had to have some serious cash—which put him completely out of my league. We weren’t even on the same playing field. But if I’d learned anything from my mother, Medusa, it was to stay committed and on task. Set your sights on the prize. Hold on tight, with just enough constriction that eventually your prey would weaken and succumb, leaving you the victor. To the victor go the spoils. Yeah, that was it. I smiled. Game on .
A salt-and-pepper-haired older fellow opened the car door for me to exit. He grabbed my hand to escort me safely into the building. Now what? I smiled kindly, giving him my most heartwarming grin.
“I’m here by invitation for Mr. Abel Gunner,” I said, worrying my hands. Fuck. Shit. Crap. Cock. I kept smiling, hoping he would fancy me enough not to ask any pertinent questions. I blinked more than usual, hoping to come off as an airhead. They do that, right? I didn’t even have a clue what floor or apartment number. My panic rose in my throat, tasting vaguely of vomit. Gross . Or was that the Fireball? Christ Almighty, give me some help, please.
“Follow me, little darling,” he said, winking as he walked me toward a separate elevator bank. He had a slow southern drawl. Funny he didn’t look like a southern gentlemen, but his slow gait and comfortable speech made me feel secure. That was a blessing. I doubted they had girls like me where he was from. A beautiful smile didn’t necessarily guarantee you had a beautiful heart. And mine was
He stared at me as he tried to decide what to do. I took action at his moment of indecisiveness. I grabbed his arm, dragging him through the crowd. I needed to take charge here. I made sure to sneak around Ender and Cindy. Where the hell was the rest of the crew? Probably hooked up themselves. There were a few limos out front. The one we had arrived in was gone. I sighed as sadness hit me hard in my gut.
The giant of a security man walked me to a blacked-out stretch Mercedes, opening the door. I guessed it was one of the Lethal Abel fleet cars. I had no time to ponder such niceties. I needed a plan. I needed to salvage my four-hour relationship that I had spent countless days cultivating. The car started with a purr.
“May I have your cell, please?” I asked the bodyguard. “I just want to text Abel to let him know I’m safe and on my way.”
He handed me his phone through the privacy divider. I texted Abel, posing as the bodyguard who was now driving me to him: “ Hey, just checking you’re home safely. If you need anything, please let me know.”
There, it was done. Now I waited for the return text while I fixed my make-up. I was a mess. I couldn’t face him like this. I made sure my own phone was turned off and waited for what felt like hours …
Then bing! —the text popped in.
Abel: Thanks, man. I’m good. Home. Enjoy the rest of your night. Ttyl.
Great. I deleted the message and passed the cell back to the giant. “Thanks a lot.” He nodded in the rearview mirror.
I burrowed into the buttery-soft leather seats, with my head resting comfortably against the back. Dwelling on the emotional trauma of the evening, which had sucker-punched me in the heart, I wondered: did I have a choice? This was Abel—the hottest, sexiest, wealthiest, alpha male I’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.
The limo slowed as we approached an Art Deco building with beautifully lit landscaping. The building was impressive in size and décor. It housed the Who’s Who of Colorado’s bachelors. As a teenager I would walk by to daydream, imagining what it would be like to live there, to not have to worry about wealth or social status. If you lived at this address, you had already arrived. It was as simple as that. Your address was your calling card. It spoke volumes about your pedigree.
The building was sophisticated with an old-world charm. Damn . He had to have some serious cash—which put him completely out of my league. We weren’t even on the same playing field. But if I’d learned anything from my mother, Medusa, it was to stay committed and on task. Set your sights on the prize. Hold on tight, with just enough constriction that eventually your prey would weaken and succumb, leaving you the victor. To the victor go the spoils. Yeah, that was it. I smiled. Game on .
A salt-and-pepper-haired older fellow opened the car door for me to exit. He grabbed my hand to escort me safely into the building. Now what? I smiled kindly, giving him my most heartwarming grin.
“I’m here by invitation for Mr. Abel Gunner,” I said, worrying my hands. Fuck. Shit. Crap. Cock. I kept smiling, hoping he would fancy me enough not to ask any pertinent questions. I blinked more than usual, hoping to come off as an airhead. They do that, right? I didn’t even have a clue what floor or apartment number. My panic rose in my throat, tasting vaguely of vomit. Gross . Or was that the Fireball? Christ Almighty, give me some help, please.
“Follow me, little darling,” he said, winking as he walked me toward a separate elevator bank. He had a slow southern drawl. Funny he didn’t look like a southern gentlemen, but his slow gait and comfortable speech made me feel secure. That was a blessing. I doubted they had girls like me where he was from. A beautiful smile didn’t necessarily guarantee you had a beautiful heart. And mine was
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