On some level, I knew she wouldn’t be here, though, didn’t I? Goddammit. Was I daft leaving her when she’d just been so brave and open with me? I don’t know where these new instincts are coming from, either, but I know with dead certainty that spanking her and walking away was a huge mistake. She needed soothing and it was my duty to provide.
Refusing to be defeated, to be without her, I find the closest grunt in a headset, grabbing him by the elbow. “The girl, Alice. The contestant. Where has she gone?”
His face is bone white. “I-I don’t know. We took care of the release forms during the first break. She had no reason to stick around, so she probably left.”
The hell she didn’t have a reason to stick around.
I was about to take her from behind against the dressing table.
I was…yes, I think I would have taken her home with me. Maybe even permanently. Which might have taken quite a lot of convincing, considering we’re in New York City and I live in London.
Am scheduled to return there tomorrow, in fact.
Dread and urgency are thorns in my side. “Release forms,” I bark. “Does that mean you have her contact information?”
He’s already shaking his head. “I’m not allowed to give out—”
“Oh. You will.”
I extricate my wallet and start counting out bills. When I press them into the young man’s sweaty palm, his eyes light up. “She used her work address on the forms. I only remember because I took a date once to the restaurant she manages.”
Impatience makes me want to shake him. “The name of it, if you please.”
“Landmark. It’s downtown. Real nice place. I had the lobster—”
I turn on a heel and walk away, cell phone in hand so I can check the time. It’s almost dinnertime. If she’s not working tonight, I suppose I’ll have to pay off someone at Landmark to give me her home address. And I’m more than willing.
You’re not going to enchant me and then disappear, Alice.
I hope you’re ready, because I’m coming to get you.
When I walk into Landmark, I immediately know it’s a well-run establishment and it pleases me to know my Alice has a hand in making it so. The low, intimate lighting is perfect, the music is the right volume, the wait staff’s uniforms are clean and starched. There isn’t a wrinkle to be found on the white tablecloths, the overhead chandelier making the silverware shine.
It’s a large restaurant. Two levels. And it’s packed full of customers.
But it only takes me ten seconds to spot Alice.
The sight of her shuts down everything around me until all I can hear is the shuddering intake of my own breath. All I can feel is my cock stiffening in my trousers. She’s magnificent in a short, black skirt that makes her legs look like sin, her tits jiggling underneath the starched white of her tucked in dress shirt. She’s making her rounds through the sea of tables, smiling and asking the patrons if everything is to their liking. To anyone looking at her, she appears to be a very intelligent, independent woman—and I’m sure she is. Secretly, though? She wants her tight ass backhanded by the man in charge.
I’m that man.
These tastes she’s woken up inside me are unexpected, but Lord, I don’t think I could deny them even if I wanted to.
“Oh my God. It’s Sebastian Cove,” someone says in a furious whisper as they pass. Heads are beginning to turn in my direction. I notice this only in my periphery, because I can’t take my eyes off Alice. When she finally notices me standing off to the side of the hostess station, she stops in her tracks, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. In my mind, I imagine kissing that blooming spot of color while holding her in my lap. Telling her not to be embarrassed about the wet spot on her panties that’s blooming just as fast as the two on her face.
Alice visibly gathers herself and comes toward me. Before she can reach my side, however, a man steps in between us. He takes my hand in an enthusiastic shake, trying and failing several times to form a bloody sentence. “I-I don’t believe it. It’s…you’re Sebastian Cove. In my restaurant. No one told me you were coming. Well we must get you a table immediately—”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say briskly, cutting him off before he can start recommending entrees. “I’m here to speak with your manager. Alice.”
His brows shoot to his hairline. “Alice?”
“Yes.” She stops behind the restaurant owner, seeming to balance on the balls of her feet and something inside me goes…soft. Like the center of a lava cake when it’s been sliced open. This effect she has on me is as alarming as it is addictive. “In fact…if you’ll kindly give her the night off, I would be happy to return the favor.”
The owner turns and looks at Alice, then back at me, his eyes as wide as an owl. “I suppose I could step in tonight…in a managerial capacity…if you would be willing to tweet about Landmark and its delectable dessert menu?”
On the inside, I’m rolling my eyes. Everything these days is about social media. Thank God I have people on the payroll to handle that nonsense on my behalf. “I’ll have my assistant contact you.” I move past the man who dares to block Alice from my view. “Shall we?”
She blinks several times. “Just like that, you expect me to walk out of my job? On a Saturday night?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yes.”
A sound puffs out of her. “Have you considered the fact that you’re the second man today to decide the course of my fate without even consulting me?”
“This is not the same thing,” I growl, moving into her personal space. The scent of sugar wraps around me and I momentarily lose my train of thought. Where was I? Right, she compared me to that wanker ex-boyfriend of hers. Is she serious?
I press my mouth to her ear and despite the sparks in her eyes, she goes pliant immediately and moans, the pointed tips of her breasts grazing my stomach. By God, if I don’t get between her thighs soon, I’m going to go insane.
“I don’t want to put you on some ridiculous reality show, Alice. I want to take you home and fuck you until your legs shake.”
She whimpers, swaying closer, and I can’t go any longer without feeling her body up against mine, so I wrap an arm around her lower back and pull her close.
“But…” The pink stain of her blush climbs to her hairline. “What about the things I told you? I thought…”
“What, darling?”
Her whisper is barely audible. “I thought maybe you weren’t feeling it.”
“Feeling it?” Her adorable American slang reminds me of our age difference. People in the restaurant are wondering if I’m her father, but I don’t give a damn about what anyone thinks.
No one except this girl.
I care quite a bit what she thinks about me and it’s not sitting right that she’s compared my actions to some dolt she’ll never see again—mark my words. It’s sitting even less right that her assessment is correct. “Alice, I’m…sorry for assuming you would come with me.” The apology sounds odd in my voice. When was the last time I apologized to another human being? Have I ever? “I’m scheduled to return to London tomorrow and I find I’m rather resentful of every moment that passes in which we’re not alone.”