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TOM
The women giggle in the back seat of the Bentley Bentayga, just one of the uber-luxurious SUVs among ACE’s fleet. My best friend, Gus, owns the private car service Leighton hired, and if nothing else, it’s going to be a sweet ride to Toronto.
Fallon finishes the Dom Perignon she insisted on bringing into the car. Short of wrestling her to the ground for the bottle, I tried to stop her but relented before she made a scene outside of the Chateau Marmont.
Leighton, the dark-haired one and my client, never touched the stuff. She was tight-lipped and reserved for the entire ride. Something tells me it’ll be a challenge to be stuck with her for the next few days.
While Fallon is a handful, I wonder if Leighton has any clue how to loosen up and have a good time. I’m curious how these two are friends.
The car crawls up the driveway of the Beverly Hills address Fallon rattled off outside the hotel. “Ladies, we’re here.”
“Yes!” The blonde catapults across her friend’s lap to peer out the window at the Spanish-style mansion.
The expansive house and grounds shine like candles on a birthday cake. Every light in the house is on. Music and chatter blast in through the open car windows, along with the sultry California night air.
Two white-gloved, uniformed individuals open the back passenger doors as each car reaches the front of the house. The guests are greeted with their choice of champagne or shots and then ushered into the mansion.
Next up, I advance the car, and Fallon leans forward until her boobs press into my bicep. Curling around me, she places her hand on my chest, and her mouth is only inches from my jaw.
“Tom, you have to stay.” Pupils glassy and dilated from the alcohol, her warm, toasty breath hits my nostrils.
“I got you here. This is where my night ends.”
Not even three weeks ago and for more than a year, I was halfway around the world. Away from a first-world lifestyle, though even this, Fallon and Leighton’s world, isn’t exactly accessible to the everyday person.
And somewhere during that time, I’d forgotten how entitled people can be. So forward, taking whatever they want. This woman can’t keep her hands to herself.
“Aww, I figured you’d be more fun.” She kisses my cheek and lingers, lips hot against my stubble, a little longer than is acceptable. “You’ve been a dream.”
She wants to fuck me and isn’t subtle about it. As tempting as that is—she’s hot and something tells me down for anything—August would kill me if I fucked a client, or even a friend of a client.
I won’t screw over my best friend. But, more importantly, I’m not feeling it. That in itself is funny given I’ve got a healthy sexual appetite at the age of twenty-seven.
Yet, I’ve only had one regular, albeit short, casual hookup in the past thirteen months. It lasted for three months, and when her volunteer stint was up, she went back to France. There hasn’t been anyone since.
I should want to get laid. Idowant to get laid, but not by Fallon Kingsley. She’s more trouble than she’s worth, not even for the bragging rights.
The rear passenger door closest to the house opens for the ladies to exit. Fallon dips back onto her seat as an attendant offers a warm welcome and a hand to the brunette.
Leighton takes the gloved hand, slips a high-heeled foot onto the pavement, and pauses to catch my eye. “See you in the morning.”
I hesitate, not wanting to stick around but also unsure if she can handle her less than sober friend. “Will you be okay to get back to the hotel?”
The well-put-together, raven-haired beauty offers a terse nod, and as if to reinforce my concern, Fallon stumbles out after her. Hurriedly, I remove my seat belt and grab for the door handle, ready to help. Thankfully, one of the greeters has quick reflexes, and he catches the actress before she falls flat on her face.
Leighton gasps, scrunches her cute nose, and slides an arm around her drunk friend. Someone closes the back door to the SUV, and I no longer have a clear view. It’s just as well. Babysitting two self-entitled socialites isn’t what I agreed to when I offered to help Gus.
On the freeway, cruising to my hotel, I contemplate my decision to get a room in Venice Beach and not closer to the famous Sunset Boulevard hotel where Leighton’s staying. But after the flight, picking up the car, and contacting the client, I wanted to chill on the beach. I only wish it was earlier in the evening.
My phone rings, and the car’s dashboard lights up with my sister’s name.
“Hey, Claire, what’s up?” I glance at the clock and do the quick math. Toronto is three hours ahead, and it’s after one in the morning for her. “You’re up late. Are you at work?”
She’s doing her residency and works crazy hours. “Hi. No, I just left the hospital. On my way home. I can’t wait to snuggle up next to Matt. He’s so big and warm—”
“Enough. I get it.” I groan, not wanting to hear any more about my sister and her fiancé, even if I like the guy.
“Fine.” She giggles, relishing how I squirmed, and this is why she overshares. “It’s just as late for you. What are you doing?”
