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Months later….
Alejandro hurried toward conference room B on the third floor of the White Estate Corporation building, the glittering lights of downtown Miami lighting his way down the darkened corridor. The rest of the holiday party—the music, the booze, and the people, were all on the first floor in the building’s large open atrium. The party, a glitzy, extravagant affair, was a gift from boss billionaire Sylvester White—his future brother-in-law if that man had anything to say about it, and a man with more money than taste. The only reason AJ had attended was because someone from Harris Construction, LLC, a construction company he and his best friend co-owned together, had to be present at the party to rub elbows and kiss asses.
Since Blaze, his best friend and partner, was busy making merry with his new fiancée, Anna, it left AJ holding the bag and the plane ticket to Miami for the weekend. It wasn’t that he hated flying or doing the hob-knobbing for business sake, it was the falseness and consumerism of the holiday season that soured his mood. And it didn’t help that, once again, it was just him, alone, on his own for Christmas. Sure, he could celebrate with his sister Sallina—he wouldn’t be alone then. But that wasn’t the sort of alone that needed fixing. He’d always have Sallina, and now Sylvester. He also had Blaze and Anna. Two couples. To him, they were his two brothers and two sisters. And their lives were full of love and commitment, with a future that promised more blessings than AJ could ever know. Would ever know. Because he didn’t have what they had…but God, he wanted it. Had been hoping, praying for it—craving it—for years.
And now, he just might have it.
Five minutes ago, a waiter dressed in coattails and starched, white shirt handed him a folded note, a note the waiter said had been handed to him by a woman, a message that had turned the depressing party on its fucking head.
If you want to meet me, come to the 3rd floor, conf. Rm. B. Don’t speak. Keep the lights off. I am waiting for you.
It wasn’t signed, but he knew who it was. It was the woman who’d been taunting him, seducing him, enticing him for the last three months. And he was more than damn well ready to solve the mystery of the woman he’d never seen but couldn’t get out of his head.
Three months ago, an email from an unknown account hit his inbox. He almost sent it right into the trash bin, but something made him stop. Click. Read. And that had been the beginning of something that had gone from curious questioning to light flirting to downright filthy in a matter of weeks. And it wasn’t just the emails. It was the gifts that came to his office and house. Little things that reminded him of his email conversations with her.
SWAN. She without a name.
Boxes of homemade cookies. Cases of his favorite beers. Tickets to Heat games. Books and movies he’d they’d chatted about. Whoever Swan was, she was generous, thoughtful, and damn frustrating. No matter what he promised or how hard he begged, she wouldn’t reveal a single detail about herself. And it was driving him fucking mad!
But no more! Now the mystery would be solved. Now he would know who was behind the emails, gifts, and long nights of blue balls and cold showers. He would finally put a face and body to the words that kept him up at night, made him smile and laugh, filled his chest with terrible longing, and eased the loneliness that had been eating away at him for years. A loneliness that no amount of flirting or fucking, one-night stands, and disappointing dates could abate.
Turning down the long corridor toward the conference rooms, his stride eating the distances, the note burning a hole in his pocket, AJ’s heart pounded, his chest heaved, his mind spun. So close.
Closer.
There. Conference room B. No windows were looking in from the corridor, only a single door. One door between him and his Swan. She’d chosen this room well…which meant she was familiar with this building. He’d known all along she had to work for Sylvester. There were too many clues in their correspondence, and she’d often mention seeing him or hearing about him. So, he knew she was an employee—which did little to narrow down the prospects. There were fifty people alone in the White offices in his hometown of Jackson Key, and the White offices in Miami had closer to 500. And since AJ often visited the Miami office on errands for Sylvester or Blaze, he came in contact with women from the Miami office at least three times a month. Any one of the hundreds of women working for White could be the woman standing behind the door. In the dark. Waiting for him.
Go inside.
He was shaking, his blood ravaging through him, his cock already hard and aching—because he was damned if he left that room without tasting her.
One taste.
No! That wouldn’t be enough. Not after all he’d suffered—not after all she’d put him through. Tonight, he would finally know what she looked like, smelled like, tasted like, and how it felt to press his body against hers. How it felt to be inside her.
She’s right here.
The note said to keep the lights off. That meant it was dark inside. That meant she was probably hoping to keep her identity a secret. But for how much longer? And how did she plan to keep him from touching her or hearing her voice? Yeah, her note told him not to speak, but what about her? How could they possibly meet without seeing or speaking?
Fuck that. He’d find a way. And, besides, there was always touching. He couldn’t wait to put his hands on her, know the texture of her flesh, the shape of her body, the sounds she made when he finally slid his hands over her skin, cupped her face…kissed her mouth.
I bet she tastes like the strawberry candy she keeps talking about in her emails. Or the mocha chocolate lattes she says she cannot go a morning without.No matter what, AJ knew she would taste better than anything he’d ever put in his mouth…or ever would. The thought of her taste alone made him drag in a shuddering breath, his lungs refusing to work even as he powered across the carpeted floor toward the rendezvous point.
But why was she hiding in the dark? Was she scared he wouldn’t like what he saw? Was she shy? Or did she just want to drag out the tension, the eroticism of sensory deprivation?
Perhaps she liked a good, hard fuck in the dark.
Does it really matter? She’s right there on the other side of the door. You’ve wanted this for three months!
What was stopping him from walking into the room and turning on the light despite her words in the letter?
He knew the answer before the words wholly formed in his mind.
Trust.
He wanted Swan to trust him. To him, trust was as important as love. Without one, you couldn’t have the other—not in its purity, anyway. How many marriages fell apart because trust was gone? How many people vowed before God and their loved ones that they could be trusted with the person standing across from them at the altar? And how many of those people didn’t deserve the trust placed in them? How many divorces? And in the case of his parents, how many marriages were nightmares cloaked in pretty, glittering opulence over a decaying, rotten tomb?
Yes, he could walk into the room and turn on the lights, uncovering the mystery of who Swan was with the flick of a light switch, but he knew in his gut that would be the end of things. Forever. She’d feel betrayed, run from him, and never speak to him again.
