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Standing outside the hotel, the street is crowded, not surprisingly. Michigan Avenue on a nice, but still cool, April day meant people were out enjoying the city. I take a deep breath as I walk through the revolving doors, pasting a smile on. Greg and Charlie are manning the front desk and I greet them.
Charlie gives me the updates on how the day went, there had been a wedding today and the party had just broken up. Several guests were still in the hotel and several had been drinking heavily. Noah Edelstein had checked in again and was being a handful. He checked in almost every six months while he decided if he was going to divorce his wife. His current girlfriend would follow a few days later, then leave again after a few days. While the girlfriend was here he was happy and normal, without the girlfriend he was a drunk, dramatic, lecherous old man. He was never going to divorce his wife because she’d air his dirty laundry and he had too much to lose. He simply liked the fantasy of thinking he had a choice.
“Also, Drake Hawthorne will be staying with us for the next two weeks, that’s surprising for him. He had a much larger delivery of clothes sent than usual. This is quite a coup for us, we need to make sure we keep his usual request for privacy in mind.”
My stomach trips, I can’t catch my breath for a moment. “That’s surprising.”
“I thought so to. He says the current project is more intensive than he thought it would be and he’ll have more late nights. Make sure Latisha knows to watch herself, she gets much too chummy with him. I know he always says to call him Drake and we should respect his request, but ‘Sir’ is far more respectful. I’m so glad you’ll be here, and I hope you’ll be the one to take point with him, if he should need anything.”
I nod and fight the blush stirring at Charlie’s words. Greg had met Drake once before, but seemed to be having a hard time placing him. Not surprising, as Greg was a guy and straight.
“Drake who?”
Charlie sighs, “Drake Hawthorne, the Dragon of Chicago.” Seeing the lack of comprehension on Greg’s face, he sighs again. “Dragon is a take-off of his name, Drake. He’s been in the Trib as one of the hottest twenty bachelors of Chicago the last four years running, and will be again this year no doubt. He’s old money Chicago, his lineage is all over this city. He lost a lot in the last crash, he sold out of the financial firm his great-grandfather founded. Now he’s been making new money by basically flipping million dollar property.
I loved reading the article in the Trib, they said he’d lost nearly everything except the clothes he was wearing. Well, his clothes were all from Saville Row so there’s a difference between his clothes and a regular person’s clothes. He was back to multimillionaire status within two years. If anything, he’s even wealthier now than when he was in the market. He’s extremely hands on and is just as often laying tile or whatever needs doing, until late. He doesn’t like driving out of the city when he’s tired, so he’ll take a room here to sleep and then go back to his project.
This will be the longest we’ve had him here. He was here last time for three days because of the snowstorm. Let’s make sure he keeps coming back, he used to check in at another hotel, but they were full one night when he needed a room and he’s come back to us ever since; for the last two years.”
My palms are starting to sweat, I can’t take hearing about Drake. Heading into the back, I pretend to be on my phone to avoid conversation. I’m telling myself I’m not the reason he’s still here and I know I’m wrong. Fuck, how the hell was I going to keep him away and still hold onto my job? Was I so stupid to think he’d go away at the first ‘no’ or even the second? Maybe I was, because I thought saying ‘no’ would be the end of it. What kind of man expected a yes to a marriage with a time limit on it? The same kind of man who was willing to spend a thousand dollars a night on a hotel room as an excuse to get to me. Two weeks, did he think he’d need that long, was it how long he was willing to wait?
The night is more or less quiet, except for Noah. Latisha is dealing with Noah’s call for more liquor when Drake comes in. His eyes are on me without looking anywhere else and my lungs are desperate for air by the time he reaches the desk.
His voice is low and hard. “You either come upstairs on your own without fighting me or I make it happen. I’m warning you, you won’t like my method.”
I turn to see Latisha’s eyes on me and she nods at my unspoken question. I round the desk and follow him to the elevator. Once again his eyes are heavy on me. Like last night, he doesn’t say a word until the door to his room closes. This time I refuse to say a word and he breaks the silence.
“I really hate liars, the first time was bad enough. Last night I wanted to wring your fucking neck. Then I get confirmation there’s no record for you ever having a child, I came this close to losing my shit. The only thing keeping it in was the private investigator calling back with the full story. Okay, fine, as far as everyone knows he’s yours, I get it. You needed the benefits, you’ve taken care of him since he was born. Your mother disappeared, but the way you told me was to keep me at bay, and I won’t have it.” The box is slammed down on the entry table. It’s open and I fight back the sob welling up at it.
I close my eyes but the sight of the hu
ge ring is embedded into my retinas. My back hits the door and he’s so close I can feel him.
His breath is against my ear in the moment before he speaks. I shiver at his heat, “Put the damned ring on and put the both of us out of this misery. I have the jet on standby. We can be in Vegas, married and back by the time you have to be home to get Justin off for school. You can be moved into my home, our home, by this time tomorrow night. You’ll be where you’ve belonged for so damned long. Enough hiding, no more endless nights of longing, put the damned ring on. I can’t leave the project I’m on right now and I know you won’t want to leave Justin alone. We’ll do a honeymoon once school is out.”
Damn the needy moan escaping me as his mouth finds my ear and his tongue slides over my skin. A nip at the soft skin of my ear and I jump as he kisses me down the side of my neck. I’m not surprised he’s so good at knowing just where to linger. I push the words out, desperate to stop him while I can still think. “Why bother to propose a marriage with a time limit on it?”
I’ve finally got his attention and he’s surprised. Pulling back, he looks down at me in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about, a time limit?”
“You said I had to sign a prenup for when it was over. I get the prenup, but you said it like you didn’t expect it to last. So, how long do you expect what you’re offering to last? Two months, two years, how long?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s what has you saying no? Ria, I’m not putting a time limit on the marriage. You’re still young, only twenty six and I’m not expecting you to go the distance. I don’t want children. Justin is already here, I understand your loyalty and love for him. I’ll do my best to make sure he’s cared for and knows he’s an important part of both of our lives. You might not want them now but you’ll probably eventually want children. That will be when our time ends. It will be up to you, I’ll keep you as long as you want to stay.”
Anger flares hot and bright at his words. Angry tears well up, and I push him away, he’s too close. Once again, he’s saying I can have him, but not really; because yes, one day I want kids of my own. Only they won’t be his, the way I want them to be. “You know everything, don’t you? The Dragon of Chicago, cold-blooded, brilliant, demanding, arrogant and no one says no to you, ever. Every fucking thing is planned, plotted, and everyone is just supposed to fall in line. Well, if you know everything, then you should know I’m going to say no, again. I’m saying, no and I hope that ring is returnable.”
I turn and my hand is on the door. He moves fast, so fast my head is spinning as he pushes me against the door and presses his body against me. Heat flares everywhere, my skin is too tight and I crave something I’ve never known before. His mouth is on my neck and he’s not gentle this time, he’s leaving a mark. Drake’s hands are everywhere and I melt, my legs won’t hold me up. He feels it, picks me up, and he’s walking toward the bedroom of the suite.
Sanity hits me as he drops me on the bed, not gentle anymore. He’s tearing off his shirt. Even as my body aches for the hard muscular chest he’s revealing to press back into me, I’m shaking my head, words are too hard to form. I’ve lost the blazer to the uniform somewhere and half the buttons on my shirt are undone, without any memory of how it happened. Nodding yes, he follows me down on the bed. Nimble fingers find the clasp of my bra in the front and opens it. His fingers are as greedy as his mouth as they roam over me. My skin tingles everywhere he touches. I want to feel him all over me, his skin against mine.
Wet heat flows, as his mouth covers my breast and his tongue tortures me. My hands are going up to his hair to pull him away; they lose all intention once they connect with the feel of his hair, silky soft. His mouth moves to my other breast and I feel like I’m coming out of my skin. Fingers move up to replace his mouth. It’s not nearly the same, yet it feels so good. I want more and I don’t ever want him to stop touching me.
“Just as beautiful and as responsive as I dreamed you would be, so damned beautiful.” He murmurs, as he looks down at me and his mouth is back on mine. He tastes of hot nights of sin and sex and I’m giving up and into him. Then I hear my phone beeping, it’s Latisha and sanity is rushing back to me. I freeze and he feels it. Tearing his mouth off mine, he rolls off and away from me. I move as fast as my screaming body will let me, the loss of him of him is agony, it’s painful to move. My fingers are numb as I try to get the bra back together and do up the buttons of my shirt. I roll off the bed and start looking for my blazer.
“Ria,” He’s weary as he watches me, “I don’t want you to go. This hasn’t been resolved.”
“I don’t care what you want. So what, you can turn a woman on in bed. Half the women who encounter you probably get turned on without you touching them. I need more than that. I’m not marrying someone who’s looking for the exit before he’s even walked through the door. I sure as shit am not putting everything I have in jeopardy for a tumble in bed.”
When I walk out, he doesn’t follow or say a word to stop me and I keep going. My hands are trembling as I put my hair back with a stray covered black elastic. My reflection tells me it’s not very convincing. I look as if I’ve come from a man’s bed. The bruise is appearing on my neck and I’m ashamed. Buttoning the shirt up to my neck, hides it, barely.
