New York
Isabel presses her hand against the spotless floor-to-ceiling glass window of our penthouse hotel. Moving behind her, I coil my arms around her waist and hug her to me. She’s warm and smells intoxicating. It should be a crime how high I get when I’m around her.
She leans into me while we gaze at the busy city that never sleeps. The pedestrians strolling along the sidewalks appear like specks of dark color from up here. The long lanes of traffic are streaks of fading red and yellow. The energy is electric, even when the sun is asleep and the sky is inked with black.
Nuzzling my lips against her neck, I breathe in her scent and close my eyes from the headiness of having Isabel with me. The media were rowdy when we landed. The photographers were in a wild frenzy, pushing and shoving each other as they snapped our pictures while we made our way from the airport into the waiting SUV by the curb that takes us straight to our hotel. I held Isabel’s hand tightly in mine, in fear she would get scared. But she didn’t. She surprised me. Isabel smiled at them and gave a polite wave before we entered the dark SUV. They fucking loved it, in return loved her.
“We’re going to be splattered on every gossip magazine within the next few hours,” I tell her in her ear.
“I know. I didn’t know the extent of your popularity, Mr. Celebrity.”
“I think you have it backwards. Everyone loves you more.” I kiss her cheek, loving doting on Isabel. “You won everyone over with a smile and a wave. How the hell do you do that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, because I have no idea,” she laughs.
“You want to go out to dinner or rest?”
“Neither,” she replies. Isabel turns in my arms, glancing at the massive bed behind us. “I want my handsome fiancé to make love to me.”
A grin takes over my face as my hand travels to her jeans, unbuttoning them. My hand cups her between her legs and she gasps, shuddering. Hooking her panties to the side, I slide my finger into her hot pussy.
She’s soaked.
“When are you not wet?” I sneer with false irritation, staring down at her.
She shrugs unconcernedly, laughing as I carry her to the huge mattress.
We spend the night in bed.
I fuck Isabel hard.
After that I take my time making love to her, drawing out her whimpers and moans and saving her screams for last.
Then we order room service and eat until we’re comatose.
This isn’t a bad way to spend Friday night in NYC.
***
The line is out the door and around a few blocks for the signing for Sweet. I chose a small intimate library that isn’t as popular as the major ones, but that doesn’t matter when Stanley put the word out. Leave it to Stanley and his excellent PR team to make any occasion grand. I sign hundreds of books and took countless pictures. By the end of the night my wrist is sore and my cheeks feel a bit swollen from all the smiling, but I loved every second with my readers. They are the ones who make what I do so interesting and worth all the headache and heartache I go through putting words on paper, making them come alive.
After the signing Stanley takes me straight to dinner. He doesn’t grant me a second to call and check on Isabel. She’s probably in the hotel room, waiting to go sightseeing with me. But knowing Isabel, she’s making unlikely friends already.
The restaurant is beyond luxurious with its shimmering crystal chandeliers, gold trimmed plates and high-spine leather menus. We have two waiters patiently waiting to take care of anything we may need. I fidget in my seat as Stanley negotiates with Miles Oliver, the big time director he was going on and on about. I’ve heard of him. He’s from a small town like me and has three other brothers. Miles brought his sister in-law, December, to dinner with us because she refuses to die of boredom at their hotel. Those are her words, not mine. She’s nice enough, though she has a sharp tongue as severe as the thick bangs that lie across her forehead. She has the deepest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Purely mocha brown. December is exotic like Isabel. Her hair is long and deep black but her skin is the color of rich caramel. She wrinkles her nose when I aim my smile at her.
“I’m not interested,” she mumbles to me as she sips at her cocktail.
“I’m not, either,” I reply amused, staring at her. “You seem to think highly of yourself.”
“And you seem like you can be a dickhead,” December says low enough for my ears only.
I give her another smile, but it must not be a friendly one because she shivers from it. She stares at me with her unfathomable brown eyes, her expression thoughtful.
Stanley and Miles aren’t aware of our conversation going on. They’re all business here. I’m just an able body that’s accounted for.
“Stanley, December and I are going to the bar. It was nice meeting you, Miles. I look forward to working with you.” I shake Miles’s hand and hook my arm through December’s, walking to the polished bar.
“Behave, December. Please,” Oliver begs and his expression is desperate.
“I will,” she yells over her shoulder.
“Can I have two shots of whisky and whatever he wants,” December mutters to the bartender, dismissively waving her hand to me.
The dark-haired bartender turns to me. “What would you like, sir?”
“Nothing for me, thank you.”
December lifts a brow. “You’re not drinking tonight?”
“I don’t drink at all.”
She gazes at the various bottles that gleam with liquor behind the bar. “Then why are we at the bar?”
“Because you looked like you needed a drink.”
“You’re smart man,” she says, tossing back her shots of whisky. She scrunches up her face and blinks rapidly. “My good sir, can I have two more?”
“Right on it.”
“So do you love her?”
“Love who?” I ask, gazing at the three platinum rings glinting in the light on my thumb.
She rolls her eyes as if the question should be obvious. “Isabel.”
“More than she’ll ever know.”
“I hate you,” she states, throwing back two more shots.
“What’s his name?”
Her brows pull together and she swings her deep chocolate brown eyes to me. “Who’s name?”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “The guy that has you taking shots like you’re trying to win a race.”
“Fucking Danny,” she snarls into her shot glass.
“Can I have a shot of cranberry juice?”
The bartender nods while he tends to other customers. “Sure thing.”
I raise my glass against hers. “To Fucking Danny.”
“Fuck Danny,” she replies as we clink our glasses in a cheers.
A muscular man in military fatigues appears from around the corner and settles on to a stool next to December. He has similar features as Miles. The only difference is that this guy’s a little older and he seems like he has something brutal just underneath the surface of his everyday skin. This man’s face is severe and detached, but when his eyes land on December warmth contorts his expression. I clock him before December does and I know instantly that this is Fucking Danny.
He clamps his fingers on her small elbow. She tries to shake him off without looking at who’s next to her.
He doesn’t budge.
“Excuse me, but fuck off,” she finally says.
“Not a chance,” he replies in a low rumble.
It’s fascinating as I watch her eyes expand and her lips part in shock and wonder. “Danny.”
Grinning, I nod to Danny. He lifts his chin and I excuse myself, leaving them at the bar. Both men are smiling when I approach the table, which can only mean good things.
“We have a deal, Hunter. A perfect deal. This is going to be good for all of us.” Stanley smiles and winks at me. “Just you wait.”
“Making Sweet come alive on the big screen will be a great challenge I look forward to, Hunter,” Oliver says, pushing to his feet. He shakes both of our hands. “We’ll be in touch gentlemen, but if you’ll excuse me, I have a wife and kid to get back to.”
We watch Oliver stop at the bar by his brother and sister in-law. He says something to his brother and playfully shoves December’s head before he leaves out the restaurant.
“Hunter, stay and celebrate with me,” Stanley says, drinking from his champagne flute. “We made the best deal in history.”
“Another time.” I shrug on my black overcoat. “I promised Isabel sightseeing before we left.”
He lifts his flute to me, nodding absently. Stanley is already buzzing. “New York tourist never gets old. Go and do mundane things, you simpleton.”
“Will do.”
Isabel is standing at the door when I come through it. Her eyes are wide, her expression almost panicked. “What’s the matter?”
“Can we leave now? Falcon has his private jet already waiting for us.”
My gaze drops down and I notice our luggage packed at her sides. I reach for her immediately, pressing her into my chest. “What happened?”
She trembles in my arms, nestling closer to me. “It’s nothing. I’m ready to leave. I want to go home. Please.”
“Baby, calm down,” I order, holding her beautiful face in my hands. Looking into her smoky emerald watery eyes I know something isn’t right. “What happened when I left? Did someone hurt you, Isabel?”
She struggles with a sob that breaks through her chest. She leans fully into me, fisting her hands tight in my coat. “Please. Let’s go home. Please, Hunter. Please.”
“Okay.” I hug her harder. “We’ll go home.”
Isabel is very quiet when we’re seated on the jet. She stares out the small round window, staring down at the tarmac, her knees bouncing up and down impatiently and anxiously.
I don’t know what went wrong but I will find out.