His eyes widen, and he looks as if that punishment is somehow worse than me shooting him.
“If I print out the news forty-eight hours from now and see that you’re not being sent to prison for violating your parole, I’ll be very disappointed. But then you’ll give me the perfect excuse to take a nice drive to Pennsylvania, where I’ll show up to your house, your vacation home, and any of your family’s private estate addresses where you might be dumb enough to think you can hide from me. Then and only then, will I consider wasting one of my best bullets on you. Are we clear?”
“Yes …” Tears fall from his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” I tape his mouth once more and slam the trunk shut. Then I look at my watch.
His flight isn’t for another three hours, and I still have more than enough time to do some research for another job.
I start to throw his phone into the trash, but I can’t for some reason. I open his inbox and text Meredith, knowing that I should leave her alone, but I want to be sure this is put to bed.
Jameson (Me): I’m really sorry I had to reschedule on you. What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?
Meredith: Moving on to a guy who won’t cancel on me at the last minute. Delete my number.
I smile. Good girl.
I start to toss the phone, but it vibrates in my hand once more. A new text from her.
Meredith: The only way I would even consider going out with you again—on New Year’s Eve, Mr. “I Own This City,” is if you suggested something other than a bar. Something nice that would truly make it up to me, preferably something that would show a hint of how much you supposedly ‘own’ this city.
Jameson (Me): When exactly did I say that I ‘owned’ this city?
Meredith: Last week. You said you get into all of the best clubs for free because you know all the owners. Would you like me to send you a screenshot?
Jameson (Me): Yes, please.
She sends it within seconds, and his words from a thread he’d long deleted make me roll my eyes at first sight.
Jameson (Me): Trust me, sexy girl. Everyone in this city knows about me or my firm. That’s how I roll. Whenever I do take an off day, I can show up to any of the top clubs here and get into them without saying a word. Every club manager knows me by name and BEGS me to drop money in their clubs.
I shake my head. I’d never heard of him until last week. The moment I saw him on the national offenders’ report and saw he’d be in my city, I’d immediately put him on my club’s never-let-him-in list.
Meredith: Should I assume that you were making that up just as much as our date tonight?
Jameson (Me): Not at all. I have a table for New Year’s Eve at Fahrenheit 900. I’ll send you a reservation confirmation. We can meet there and I’ll make this up to you.
Bad boy…
Michael
Before We “Met”
(Well, Slightly After)
* * *
This woman is definitely going to be a problem…
Meredith stands in the doorway of the penthouse suite, her stunning brown eyes looking into mine—searching for a way to extend our conversation for several more seconds. For the past several hours, I’d fucked her all over the room. I’d devouring her pussy repeatedly, made her come on almost every surface, and forced her to scream my name at the top of her lungs each time.
I’ve officially broken every rule in my book, shattered every personal law.
“Why are you leaving right now?” she asks. “Right when you think I’m sleeping...”
“You were sleeping.” I trailed her lip. “I told you to stay in the bed.”
“I was listening to you talk until you stopped.” She smiles, cementing her title as the sexiest woman I have ever met. “I don’t I’ve ever talked so much in between sex this much.”
“Me either…”
“You could finish telling me about your tattoos or your travels,” she said. “Or I could tell you a secret about what I do on the side when I’m not working at Vogue.”
“I already know about that.”
“Huh?” She raised her eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I already know what you do when you’re not working,” I said, quickly thinking of a way to recover from that near-reveal. “You swipe left on every guy you see on Tinder.”
She laughed. “No, not that. If you come back in, I can—”
I cut her off with a kiss, silencing her sentence before she can talk me into staying. Before she can make me lose what’s left of my dwindling restraint. I want this night to last longer, just as much as she does, but I can’t.
“Have a good night, Meredith,” I say, slowly pulling away from her. “Happy New Year.”
“You’re really not going to come back in and help me christen a few more services in this four-thousand-dollar a night room?” she asks, her cheeks red. “I didn’t get a chance to do as much on you…”
“The penthouse suite is forty thousand dollars a night.” I step back, beyond tempted. “And no, I won’t come back at all.”
I walk away from her before she can ask another question, before I can go against my better judgment and end this night buried deep in her pussy. Pressing the elevator button, I stare at her until the doors glide open, taking her in for what should be the last time.
As the car goes down, I try to convince myself that what I’ve done is okay. That months from now, when she sees me again, she won’t suspect anything until I stuff her into the back of a van and make her disappear for a while.
When I make it to the lobby, I pull out my personal cell phone and notice a new text message from the only person who has this number. My brother.
Trevor: I had one of the runners deliver your dry cleaning to your SoHo condo. You know, the place where you were supposed to be to discuss business tonight. As for me, I’m parked in front of the closest Sweet Seasons Café. Come see me whenever you start thinking with your brain instead of your cock.
I reach into my coat, feeling around for my car keys, but they’re not there.
Shit.
Walking over to the front desk, I show my ID and request a duplicate room key for the penthouse suite. I take the elevator up to the room once more, and the moment I step inside, I see Meredith fast asleep on the couch.
Completely naked, she’s sprawled across the cushions, hanging off the edge. Her face is in danger of hitting the glass coffee table is she moves another inch.
My keys are on the minibar, right within reach.
Grab the keys and fucking leave … If she hurts herself, so be it.
Without thinking, I walk over to her and slip my hands under her thighs—lifting her up and carrying her into the bedroom. I grab a silk robe from the closet and slowly help her into it before tucking her under the covers.
As I turn to walk away, she grabs my arm and her eyes flutter open.
“Yes, Meredith?”
“I really like you already…”
I don’t respond to that. I gently push her hand away, and wait a few seconds before she falls asleep again.
Grabbing my keys, I get the hell out of the hotel and suck in as much fresh air as I can when I get to the street. I make my way down the block to the closest Sweet Seasons Café until I reach my brother’s car. I look over my shoulder before opening the passenger’s side door and shutting myself inside.