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She nodded at the man and then slid inside the vehicle first, Brick right after. The inside was spacious, the leather seats comfortable. Brick chose to sit close to her, his thigh brushing hers. His hand grabbed one of hers, locking fingers. Though the window partition was up between their side and the driver’s side—so no witnesses would see the affection—she liked he had grabbed her hand.
The drive was smooth, despite New York’s busy traffic. The driver knew how to maneuver through the streets so the passengers were at ease the entire ride. Nothing but the best from her mother.
They arrived sooner than she had hoped to the hotel where her mother was staying and where they intended to have breakfast. A luxurious hotel with all the amenities, plus some. The outside screamed money. From the massive doors waiting to allow entry to the beautiful intricate stained-glass window above the awning to the doorman dressed impeccably. The hotel was across from Central Park, and she knew her mother had a room with a view toward the park. The largest suite with the best view they offered.
She smiled and nodded at the driver as well as the doorman as they walked through the open door he held for them. Her grip on Brick’s arm tightened as they stepped through the threshold. Elegance and power yawned before her, making her skin itch and her heart pick up speed. Lights lit up every corner, almost begging the person who walked in to try and find a gloomy, dusty part in the building. Everyone she saw was dressed to perfection. Jewels glittering in the bright light, expensive briefcases, not a hair out of place, and the perfect makeup. A grand piano sat in the middle of the room, and Jezebelle knew whoever played it would be the best pianist in the world. She was almost sad no one was playing at the moment. A light, soothing tone might’ve helped to calm her nerves.
“Should we find your mother?”
Brick’s soft voice did the trick the piano could’ve. She looked at him. Peace and an odd sense of comfort filtered into her senses. He looked adorable and handsome and she would never forget his kindness. Even though he wore no jacket, he looked crisp and fresh in the shirt he had picked out. Unbuttoning the few buttons she had had been part of a small defiance toward her mother. She knew her mother would hate it, and the glee inside her was too much not to do it. Plus, Brick looked more comfortable with his shirt not buttoned up tight. Her heart also did a little pitter-patter every time she got a glimpse of the tattoo on his chest. So damn sexy.
He looked like himself, and that’s what Jezebelle wanted. Him, to be himself—no matter what her mother might think of him.
They stood staring at each other. Nothing around them penetrated the small bubble that had erected the second she had turned her gaze toward him.
His head lowered, his lips brushing hers. Light, airy, and full of promises for later. She couldn’t determine what kind of promises. More pleasure? More…just more…of a future?
No, silly of her to even think. It was a kiss. A sweet, simple kiss to help calm her nerves.
A throat cleared, stealing the tender moment away from them.
They broke apart and looked ahead.
Her mother stood with poise and precision as if she were the queen herself. Her lips were drawn thin, her eyes leveling a hard stare at Brick, that lone brow cocked.
“Good morning, Mother.” Jezebelle smiled, her grip on Brick tightening even more. She wouldn’t be surprised to find she left marks on his arm later. “This is—”
“Come. We’ll be late for our reservations. You do know how much I hate being late.”
Then, without another glance at Brick, her mother swiveled around and headed for the restaurant to the right.
“Well, this should be fun,” Brick said with a chuckle and guided—more like dragged—Jezebelle in the direction her mother went.
Fun?
This would be hell. Worse than hell. She’d rather spend the day with the devil than her mother.
