Chapter 21 Fitz
FITZ
Ihave the note for Winnie in my pocket. I spent all night typing and editing, remembering the smell of her, fantasizing about her taste.
If only we hadn’t been interrupted.
I don’t feel guilty at all breaking into her house and leaving her a surprise while she is sleeping.
Next time, I’m fucking her awake.
She wants it too.
Tell me your name, and I’ll let you come in my ass.
The note in my pocket crumples under my fist.
She’s got one of those fancy doorbells I always wanted, like in the movies.
The chimes ring through the house.
Winnie looks frazzled when she opens the door. “Fitz? What the—what are you doing here?” Winnie startles, her eyes big.
“Are you going to invite me in, Creampuff?” I’m not a vampire, of course. I don’t actually need an invitation to come into her house.
She doesn’t say anything, just gives me that wide-eyed stare, her lips slightly parted. I brush past her, using the excuse to let my hand linger on the small of her back briefly. I want to sweep her into my arms and kiss her until she’s begging again for my cock.
God, it was so easy to make her a wet, pleading mess.
Addictively easy.
“Kathy’s not ready,” Winnie finally stammers out.
“Between you and me, Creampuff, I’m not actually here for Kathy.” I wink at her.
“You’re—” she croaks then swallows.
I’m mesmerized by her neck.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Where else would I be?”
“Kathy’s going to meet you at the restaurant. It was in the date plan that I sent over.”
“Let’s talk about that. That was more thorough than most investment presentations I’ve gotten.
” I admire the familiar foyer. I’ve been in here a hundred times, and I’ll never get tired of the way it smells like her—sweet, like the pastries she makes.
“You act like I’m too incompetent to plan a date that will knock a woman off her feet. ”
“Clearly you are, if you waltz into her home uninvited.”
“God forbid I show up to a woman’s home to pick her up for a date.”
“You need to leave. Go wait in the car.” Winnie gestures to the front door.
I ignore her and check my watch. “How much longer can Kathy take? She’s a supermodel, right? She wakes up gorgeous.”
Winnie’s mouth purses.
“Aren’t you going to offer me a drink while I wait?” I smirk down at her.
“No. And you’re early. You’re like an hour early.”
“Traffic.”
“Traffic?” She rushes after me as I head to the wet bar in her living room.
“You didn’t account for traffic in your plan, Creampuff.”
Goddamn, all I want to do is kiss her.
I’m here in her house with her.
It’s thrilling.
I try to pretend like I don’t know where anything is.
I inspect her liquor.
I pick the cognac I left as a present for her a couple weeks ago.
“There’s a massive sports event tonight.
Roads are clogged.” I hand her a glass of the amber liquor.
“People come in from the suburbs—they don’t know how to drive.
They wander around in the middle of the street.
I didn’t want either of us to be delayed getting to the restaurant and thought it would be better if we were stuck in traffic together.
An opportunity to get to know each other, you know? ”
I sit down on the couch, the one we were on last night, the one she lay sprawled out on, a present just for me, as I stole those gasps of pleasure.
Her cheeks redden.
Does she remember? Remember last night? Remember me?
I know I don’t smell the same.
I’m wearing my imported cologne, the new one, an indie brand, the one that smells like teak and the Colorado sky. Even if she presses her lips to the back of my neck, wraps her arms around me, she won’t know I’m the masked stranger who almost made her come last night.
The thrill of it—Does she know? Does she not know?—I could live in this moment for years and never get tired of the game.
Winnie gulps the cognac.
“You’re supposed to sip it. It’s a 5K bottle.”
“What? No, it’s not.” The way her face scrunches up—I know I’ve blown it. In five seconds, she’s going to put it together.
“Winnie, I can’t go on the date—” Her sister is racing down the staircase. “Winnie, you should have seen what he posted. I can’t go.” Kathy sobs.
I stand up. She stops in the doorway. “Oh.”
Winnie’s looking between Kathy and me. “Kathy, Fitz is here. You can’t just bail.”
“So soon?” Kathy sniffles.
That makes Winnie really pissed.
“Why don’t you come sit down, have a drink?” Kathy offers. “Winnie can entertain you. She made mini beef Wellingtons.” Kathy smiles at her sister.
Winnie glares. “No. Go get dressed. This is the first day of the rest of your life.”
“It’s never going to be like being the captain’s wife.” Kathy sighs.
“You can’t be talking about your ex in front of the guy you’re trying to trap.” Winnie pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Is that what this is about, Creampuff? And here I thought you didn’t have financial troubles.”
“I don’t have financial troubles. I have family troubles. Kathy”—Winnie shoos her to the stairs—“go.”
“But, Winnie, his new girlfriend posted ring photos,” Kathy wails.
“It’s just a brand endorsement deal.” Winnie’s voice trails off as she herds her younger sister upstairs.
I sip my cognac and walk through the familiar room. Now that I’m not focused on Winnie, I concentrate on the surroundings. Something smells delicious.
What is that?
It’s the pasta—the mushroom in a cream sauce with gemelli pasta that she serves at the café on Mondays because it’s easier to start your week with pasta.
Garlic bread is baking in the oven.
It smells like home.
This is why I love coming to her house.
Sure, my penthouse is expensive and packed full of multiple colors of everything I ever wanted to own and a lot of stuff that I didn’t. But Winnie’s house feels lived-in. Not curated. It’s just her.
“Negroni?” A woman that looks like a mix of Winnie and Kathy sails into the room. “We’re so excited that you’re here, Fitzgerald. Let me refresh your drink. Where are my daughters? Honestly, I raised animals. They’re terrible hostesses.”
“The man doesn’t want a negroni. Try this.
” Mark shoves a glass in my hand. “It’s the official drink of the US Open.
It’s a melon ball mule. See the little balls of honeydew melon?
They look like tennis balls. Isn’t that nifty?
I’m the proud dad, by the way”—he beams, shaking my hand—“Mark, and this is my wife, April. Nice ta meetcha!”
“Honestly, Winnie gave you a dirty glass.” The woman snatches it.
“Maybe he wants some water, April. Or we have red wine,” Mark offers, excited.
“That’s supposed to be served with the dinner. Winnie says—”
“She probably means to serve the white with dinner,” I tell them smoothly. “The sauvignon blanc.” The one I left her last night with the big white bow.
“Oh, he knows his wine.” Her parents are pleased.
“I’ll have to invite you all to my vineyard when the weather’s nicer.”
“Do you have a yacht?”
“Mark,” April hisses. Then she gives me a placid look. “He may not have a yacht. That’s rude of you to ask.”
“Of course I have a yacht. Hopefully, your daughter won’t kick me to the curb before boat season.”
“Now, before the girls come back down.” Mark’s face goes serious. “We need to sit down and talk, man to man. My daughters are the most important things to me. And to April.” He takes his wife’s hand. “I just want someone who will treat them well. Who will make them happy.”
“I understand, sir. Ma’am,” I add, nodding to April. “I’d never do anything to hurt your daughter.”
“Good, because if you do…”
“Don’t sit there and try to act like you’re going to defend those girls,” Granny Frances insists, bustling in with more alcohol and the plate of beef Wellingtons. “Look at this god specimen.”
“Mama’s right!” Mark slaps his thigh. “I wouldn’t be able to stop you at all.”
“Good thing you’re such a nice young man. Just perfect for our daughter.” April beams.
I feel mildly guilty for sneaking into Winnie’s house, then.
“And he’s early. Such good manners.” April and Mark stare at me happily.
Ding-dong!
“Oh, and Logan is here early too,” April trills. “We’ve found good young men for both our girls.” April hurries to the front door.
Both our girls? If I’m supposed to be here for Kathy, then…
There’s the sound of a nervous man talking as he’s led into the living room.
He balks when he sees me. “You-you…” He stammers and looks around in shock. “You own the football team. We’re Super Bowl champions.” He catches himself. “Oh!” He taps his head knowingly. “Of course. You’re here for the pretty sister.” He laughs.
I want to kill him. Because Winnie’s parents are here, I try to keep my expression pleasant and neutral.
“We’re going to have a rustic meal while you and Kathy eat your caviar.” April sails by. “I need to check on the pasta.”
“Winnie made homemade burrata. I’ll bring out the crackers.” Mark hustles to the kitchen.
“And I’ll get you a drink, my friend.” I give Logan a predatory smile.
“Frances, go make sure Winnie is dressed for her date,” April calls from the hallway.
Date?
As soon as we’re alone in the room, my face drops.
I set the glass down, push off the bookcase, and turn on the guy. I cross the room in three steps, then I’m on him. I tower over him. The pasty-faced guy looks like he’s about to shit himself.
“I’ll give you two options,” I hiss in his ear. “One, I call up all the bored ex-Marines I have on payroll and they burn your house down. Or two, you get the fuck out of here and never talk to anyone in this house again.”
“B-but I brought flowers,” he stammers.
I pull out a hundred-dollar bill and flash him a toothy smile. “For your troubles.”
He inches past me, dropping flower petals from the cheap bouquet all over Winnie’s floor. I stand at the doorway, watch him sprint across the street, then slam the door.
Fidget creeps down the stairs, tail tucked between her legs, sees me, and immediately comes to beg for treats.