Chapter Five #2
“Because Harvey knew what it was like to have big dreams and little support. He was raised by a single father who had substance abuse issues, and he was in and out of the system until he was fifteen, when his father got clean and was finally able to take care of him. And it was important to him to build relationships with them, like family.” She pauses, and her tone turns wistful.
“That ended up being something we had in common. It’s how I got started in this business before I met him. But that’s a story for another time.”
Treating people like family is something we have in common, too. “I look forward to hearing it. Do you still scout underdogs?”
“I wish I had time. I’d do it every night if I could, but I’m too busy running the business.
Anyway, Harvey saw this video on YouTube of Charlie Evers, who now manages Bailey Bray and a handful of other top musicians, but twenty years ago, Charlie was just a guy who played music.
In the video, Charlie and his buddy were talking about what song they were going to play, and there was a teenage boy playing guitar in the background.
Harvey said he knew right then that teen would be a star, and he tracked him down.
That was Cage’s brother, who goes by Boone Stryker—”
“The lead singer of Strykeforce? Holy shit. That band is amazing.”
“Yeah. It turned out their mother was on the janitorial staff at the Epson School of the Arts. She was raising Cage and Boone, and their brother and sister, Lucky and Maggie, on her own. She couldn’t afford daycare, so they’d been going to work with her from the time they were little.
Boone fell in love with music, and they got to know students and teachers, who showed them a thing or two.
Eventually, Boone ran into Charlie, who taught him more.
In the end, Harvey paid for Boone, and a few of his equally talented friends, to attend the Epson School of the Arts.
But as you know, Cage was a different beast than Boone, and his forte was fighting, so Harvey hired a trainer for him.
Blank Space was born not long after that. ”
“That’s incredible. Harvey sounds like he was a great guy.”
“Greater than most people know.”
“I hope you’ll share that with me, too, sometime.” As I say it, her gaze warms. “You really do rub elbows with some very cool people.”
“Does that surprise you?” She smiles. “I mean, I rub elbows with you , right?”
I lift my glass in a silent toast, loving the compliment, and I can’t resist leaning in and saying, “You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now.”
She holds my gaze. “Who ever said flattery will get you nowhere?”
“When you’re the one doing the flattering, it’ll get you everywhere.” I tap her glass with mine, and she gulps hers down.
She looks out at the crowd and draws her shoulders back. “Come on, troublemaker. I need to make an appearance with some important people. I might as well introduce you to a few rock stars while I’m at it. Think you can behave?”
“I didn’t kiss you, did I?”
“You get a gold star,” she says as a waiter takes our empty champagne flutes.
“I’d rather have the kiss.”
She gives me a look that I swear says she’d rather have it, too.
Or maybe that’s wishful thinking.
As we make our way around the lounge, Victory is the epitome of grace and professionalism.
She introduces me to her colleagues and business associates and Cage’s brothers and sister, not as her friend but as a restaurateur— Wells owns the hottest restaurant on Silver Island, and he’s in the process of expanding to the city .
It’s easy to see how well respected she is, as celebrities and other elite guests light up when they see her.
She’s clever and sexy, and she gives each person her full attention, doling out heartfelt compliments and graciously accepting just as many.
I listen intently as she discusses the entertainment industry, gleaning what I can about Victory and the glamorous world she lives in.
I should probably be starstruck by some of the guests, but they don’t hold a candle to Victory.
The way she goes from one conversation to the next without so much as a sigh is impressive.
As a guy who takes personal service to the next level with my customers, I know how exhausting it is to be on for hours at a time.
I love that part of my job, and I can tell Victory enjoys doing it, too, but as the night wears on, I grow protective of her and try to make sure she has what she needs.
She hasn’t stopped smiling all night, but I’ve learned the difference between her practiced smiles and her genuine ones.
I dig them all, but it’s the secret smile she gives only me when couples joke about relationships or fawn over each other that twists me up inside.
Like the one she’s giving me now as we stand by a firepit with Jillian and Johnny Bad and Boone Stryker and his wife, actress Trish Ryder, listening to them talk about their kids.
It takes everything I have to stick to my word and fight the urge to slip my arm around Victory and draw her into a kiss.
Victory
As Trish talks about motherhood, Wells leans closer to me and whispers, “Do you think they can tell I’m silently fan man ning about talking with two of the world’s biggest rock stars and the rest of the in crowd?”
I smile. “I think you mean fan boy ing.”
His brows slant, and he whispers, “Do I need to take you home and remind you there is nothing boyish about me?”
Yes, please.
Wells has been amazing tonight. I had forgotten what it was like to go to events with someone who wanted to be there with me .
He’s been sweetly attentive, asking if I need a breather or a drink, and seamlessly fitting into conversations, asking interesting questions and injecting appropriate humor.
At least for others to hear. He’s proven to be an even better seducer than I ever imagined, whispering enticingly naughty things in my ear, keeping my body humming with desire, as he did last night.
He’s surprised me in other ways, too. He’s protective, reading cues I didn’t realize I was giving.
He whisked me away from people I wasn’t enjoying talking with, and when a guy who had obviously had too much to drink got handsy, Wells stepped in, handling it swiftly without making a scene.
I’m having such a good time tonight, it’s kind of scary.
“Wells, do you have any children?” Trish asks, drawing me from my thoughts.
“Not that I know of,” he says, earning a chuckle from the guys. “But I like kids. My oldest brother, Grant, and his wife, Jules, just had a baby a couple of weeks ago. They named him Stephen—Stevie—Alexander after Jules’s father and ours, and he’s the cutest little guy.”
Harvey used to get that same warm expression when he talked about our friends’ kids. I’ll never forgive myself for putting off having children to focus on my career, robbing him of that experience.
Swallowing hard, I push those thoughts away and say, “Leni showed me pictures of him. He really is precious.” Jules is Leni’s younger sister.
“All babies are precious,” Jillian says. “Do you want kids, Wells?”
“I haven’t really thought about it, but I’ve got two brothers and two sisters, and I can’t imagine my life without them. So, yeah, I guess I’d like to have a family one day.”
I don’t want to know that, or to like that he wants kids, but there must be some truth to the biological clock, because I’ve felt pulled in that direction lately.
“Dude, kids will change your life,” Boone says. “We only have two, and I swear we’re outnumbered.”
“Try having twins and a teenager who thinks she’s twenty-one,” Johnny says.
“It’s exhausting in the best way possible,” Jillian says. “Lyric and Lennon are a year old, and I swear they stay up all night scheming ways to drive us batty.”
“They run everywhere, and it’s always in opposite directions,” Johnny adds, and we all laugh.
“There are benefits. How do you think I got my body back so fast?” Jillian jokes. “Chasing those little monkeys.”
“Just wait until they’re a little older and see what new things they get into,” Trish says. “You have to see this video of Paisley and JR. It’s the cutest thing ever. Boone, can l have my phone?”
As Boone pulls her phone from his pocket, he says, “I’m just going to preface this by saying, what you’re about to see is Trish’s fault, not mine.”
“He’s right. It is totally my fault.” Trish navigates to the video. “Paisley is two, and JR is four and a half. I was videoing them playing on the patio when this happened.”
She holds out the phone, and we all gather around as the video starts.
Their adorable little boy is wearing overalls and no shirt or shoes, and his brown hair curls around his ears.
He’s making motor sounds, pushing a toy truck across a table.
Paisley, also barefoot and dressed in overalls, is playing with toy dinosaurs in the grass a few feet away.
Her light brown pigtails stick straight out, and she has the sweetest little face.
JR pushes the truck hard, sending it flying off the table and crashing to the patio. “Uh-oh!”
“I get it!” Paisley toddles over and picks it up. Her tiny brows knit as she discovers a crack in the toy. She shakes her head, carrying it to JR, and says, “Ohdamnit. Ohdamnit. Ohfuckingdamnit.”
We all crack up.
“Are they really your kids?” Wells asks. “Because that little girl is all over social media.”
“Yes, that’s our dainty little Paisley, showing the world how good of a mother I am,” Trish says. “I never thought it would go viral.”
“You are the best mother,” Boone says, hugging her against him.
“Good moms curse,” Jillian says. “It’s part of life. We just have to teach our kids not to repeat us at inappropriate times.”
“That must be the part I forgot,” Trish jokes.
“Speaking of our little rascals, when can we get out of here?” Boone asks. “I’m whipped.”
“Me too,” Johnny says.
“Boone, it’s your brother’s birthday,” Trish exclaims. “We can’t just leave.”
“Like hell we can’t. Maggie and Lucky took off half an hour ago,” Boone says. “We showed up. Cage knows we care.” He scans the crowd. “Look at him. He won’t even notice we’re gone.”
We follow his gaze across the rooftop and see a tall blonde feeding Cage a cupcake.
Wells leans closer to me and whispers, “I’d like to lick frosting off your cupcake. Let’s snag one of those on the way out.”
My body ignites. I know if I go home with him, I’ll be swimming in a sea of guilt afterward, but as we say goodbye to the others, I’m not ready for my night with Wells to end.
With his hot hand on my back and those piercing eyes urging me on, I decide to allow myself one last night of pleasure. Then he’ll go home to the island and I’ll go to LA and resume my normal, comfortably scripted life.
“Next time I’ll have cupcakes waiting,” Wells promises as we climb into the cab. In our haste to be alone, we forgot to grab one on our way out.
The car barely pulls away from the curb before I tug him into a kiss.
He makes that growling sound that lights me up like a firework and deepens the kiss.
Time blurs in a gust of want and need. By the time we reach his hotel, I have no idea how my legs carry me inside, because I’m so turned on, I’m ready to combust.
“It was hell keeping my hands off you tonight,” he grits out as we step into the elevator.
Knowing he’s as desperate for me as I am for him is the best kind of aphrodisiac.
I reach for him as the elevator doors close, and he pins me against the wall, devouring my mouth as he pushes his hand into my thong.
Those talented fingers and thumb work their magic, stealing my breath and sending the world spinning away in record time.
My body screams for more as we stumble into his hotel room in a flurry of urgent kisses and greedy gropes.
He kicks the door closed and savagely reclaims my mouth.
Our tongues tangle, our bodies grind, and my back hits the wall.
He tugs my dress up to my waist, gritting out, “ Jesus . You make me crazy.”
He yanks down my thong, and as I step out of it, he pulls his wallet from his pocket and withdraws a condom, holding it in his teeth as he shoves his pants to his knees, freeing that glorious cock.
“ Hurry ,” I plead as he sheathes his length.
His eyes are volcanic as he lifts me into his arms. My legs circle his waist as I sink down and he thrusts, burying himself to the hilt, sending pleasure radiating through me. We both cry out. “Kiss me,” he demands, and I do, with everything I have, as he pounds into me.
Every thrust sends an explosion searing through me like thunder and lightning.
I fist my hands in his hair, kissing him harder, wanting to feel his roughness, his power.
His thick cock fills me deliciously with every forceful stroke of his hips, I can barely breathe for the pleasure consuming me.
His muscles constrict, and I know he’s as close as I am.
My head falls back as I chase that high, clinging to his shoulders, feverishly riding him.
He thrusts faster, harder, gritting out curses to my every moan.
“ Wells ” falls desperately from my lips.
His next thrust sends me reeling into ecstasy, and he’s right there with me as he finds his release. “Vic… Fuck … Vic— ”
We ride that high until we collapse against each other, panting for air. “Give me that mouth,” he growls, and then he kisses the ever-loving hell out of me.
I feel him toeing off his shoes and stepping out of his pants, and I smile against his lips. “You can put me down, you know.”
“And take a chance of you walking out that door? No fucking way.” He carries me toward the bedroom. “I’m not nearly done with you.”
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”