16. Shameless
Shameless
After the wedding festivities—I spent a couple days showing Jack New York before he returned to Australia.
Between our hectic schedules, seeing Broderick will be difficult—and I need my fix of him before heading out on tour with Ava again.
He’s probably at work today, so I decide to bring him a little surprise—me.
With my phone pressed up to my ear I call his office.
“Hello, Goodman Enterprises. You’ve reached the office of Mr. Schwartz. This is Stacey—how may I help you?”
“Hello, this is…Belle from the Montgomery Group. I need an urgent meeting with Mr. Schwartz. Confidential matter. Can you clear his afternoon?”
My heart thuds rapidly, hoping this little ruse works.
“Mr. Schwartz has a personal lunch date and a team meeting, both of which I can move to tomorrow. I’ve cleared his afternoon for you.”
“Thank you.”
Relief washes over me—thankful for the Montgomery name coming in handy.
I dress carefully, pulling my hair into a high ponytail. I slip on a tailored coat—buttoned-up, no shirt beneath—just red lingerie, matching lipstick, and black sky-high designer heels. From the outside no one would suspect a thing. The thrill is intoxicating.
Tony drops me out front, and I head into the building, nerves bouncing with excitement as I ride the elevator up to his office. Stacey looks surprised to see me but says nothing as I head down the hall.
I don’t knock.
Broderick’s door swings open without resistance. He’s seated behind his desk, absorbed in his computer. I watch him for a moment—focused, older-looking like this. Intense.
“Mr. Schwartz,” I purr, leaning casually in the doorway, “is now a convenient time to discuss our agreement?”
His eyes snap up, startled, then darken as they take in my outfit.
“Belle from the Montgomery Group, is it?” He stands slowly, gaze heated.
I unbutton my coat, letting it fall open to reveal the surprise beneath. I step in letting the door close behind me.
“Damn, woman. Are you trying to kill me?”
The look on his face is worth every second of nerves. Like I’ve just handed him sin on a platter.
“Mr. Schwartz—your language,” I tease, voice dripping scandal. “I thought this was a respectable establishment.”
He crosses swiftly, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrap instinctively around his waist, mouth claiming mine fiercely as he carries me toward the boardroom table. He clears its surface in one swift sweep, papers scattering, setting me down roughly and tearing my coat away.
My lipstick smears across both our faces as he kisses me hungrily, working downward, slow and deliberate, lips pressing against every inch of skin.
“These,” he murmurs appreciatively, lifting one leg to admire my heels, “I want to fuck you with these on.”
“Yes, please.” My voice shakes, and I smirk, pressing a heel lightly into his chest, halting him playfully. “Mr. Schwartz, you’re far too dressed—it’s a conflict of interest.”
I lie back like a decadent offering, stripped to lace and red soles, watching him eagerly.
Broderick smiles, savoring it like something sweet, smeared lipstick all over his face. With one fluid motion, he pulls off his shirt, tossing it aside, pressing back down against me, grinding his hardness between my thighs.
“Elena,” he breathes roughly, “this is so…unexpected.”
“I wasn’t sure when we’d get the chance again.” I kiss him desperately. “I leave for Chicago in a few days—I need you.”
“What do you need, baby? Tell me.”
“I want it rough.”
He groans low in his chest, fingers trailing gently up my stomach, wrapping softly around my throat—just enough pressure to steal my breath. His other hand slips beneath the lace, teasing, finding me already aching and slick.
“God, El.”
I moan as he kisses me, hand moving slowly between my thighs, deliberately tormenting, never giving enough.
My hips lift, chasing friction he denies. He grins wickedly against my mouth.
“Begging yet?” His thumb moves torturously slow.
“Not…” Pleasure spikes sharply. “Not even close.”
“Oh, really?” he taunts, lips brushing mine. “But you’re so fucking wet for me already…”
The door swings open abruptly, slamming into the wall.
“Dude, I’m thinking piz—” Andrew freezes mid-sentence, eyes wide in shock as he takes in the scene: me sprawled across the table in nothing but lingerie and heels, Broderick shirtless, lipstick plastered on his face, his hand embarrassingly between my thighs.
A stunned silence.
Not again. Lock the fucking door, Elena.
“Oh my God!”
“Dude,” Andrew chokes out. “What the fuck!”
“Shit!” Broderick scrambles back, face bright red—not just from the lipstick.
Andrew looks rapidly between us. “Are you two dating?”
“No, no!” I blurt quickly.
“We’re…keeping each other company,” Broderick offers awkwardly.
“So, you’re just fucking my little sister?” Andrew snaps.
Broderick recoils, turning even redder. I scramble upright, grabbing Broderick’s shirt to cover myself, humiliation burning my face.
“Hi, Andrew,” I manage weakly, clutching his shirt to my chest. “Great timing, as usual.”
“Elena, what the fuck?” Andrew turns away sharply.
“Pip didn’t tell you?”
Andrew spins back instantly. “Philippa knows?”
“Yeah,” I admit guiltily. “She caught us at the wedding.”
“The fucking wedding?” Andrew’s voice rises sharply. He points accusingly at Broderick. “Brody, seriously? She’s too young for you!”
Broderick scowls, frustrated. “What are you talking about? She’s twenty-two.”
“Twenty-three, actually,” I interrupt, raising a finger. “Remember, my birthday?”
Both men turn sharply—Andrew incredulous, Broderick groaning.
“Not helping, baby,” Broderick mutters.
“Baby…baby?” Andrew drags a hand down his face. “Philippa knows—and she’s okay with this?”
“She wasn’t thrilled,” I confess quietly, buttoning Broderick’s shirt. “But it’s my life. Besides, weren’t you the one telling me to get over Alex?”
Broderick’s jaw tightens subtly at Alex’s name, vulnerability flashing briefly. I look away, feeling more exposed, despite my undress.
Andrew shakes his head slowly, staring at Broderick. “She’s family. You know how messy this gets.”
“I know exactly how complicated it is,” Broderick replies evenly.
The silence thickens. Andrew sighs, resigned.
“Fuck’s sake, man,” he says bitterly, glaring before storming out, slamming the door.
“You should probably talk to him,” I say.
“He’ll be fine. Let him cool off. I’ll talk to him later.”
Broderick wraps me gently in his arms.
“El—are you okay?”
I bury my face against his chest, breath unsteady. “Not really. Riley, Philippa, and now Andrew know. This was supposed to be private.”
“I know, baby,” he murmurs softly, lips pressing to my forehead, soothing me.
“Maybe we should stop.”
“What? El, no—forget the rules for a minute. The sex is good, right? Just enjoy it. Enjoy us.”
“I mean, it’s more than good, Brody, but this complicates things.”
“Hey—we agreed we wouldn’t hurt each other, right? Friends no matter what. And what about your needs?”
“I’ll make do with BOB.”
“Who”
“Battery operated boyfriend—BOB—my vibrator.”
“Damn. Replaced by robots already. Sheesh.”
We laugh.
“Look, if you want to stop, we can stop,” he says. “But sex with you is fucking heaven. And for the first time in a long time, I’m having fun. But I get it—if my performance isn’t to your satisfaction…”
He’s having fun?
Well, far be it from me to get in the way of a chronic workaholic’s rare indulgence.
“What? Brody, no. Of course it is. You’re incredible.”
He smirks, all dimples and danger. “Geez, stop flirting with me.” His tone darkens into something more dangerous. “If you keep it up, I’ll bend you over and ride that ass real good.”
The heat in his voice—the promise behind the words—burns right through my hesitation. The knot of anxiety in my chest begins to unravel, replaced by something warmer.
He wants me. Right now. Not just my body, but this moment. With me.
“Tempting,” I murmur. “But how about you get on your knees and beg me for heaven instead?”
There’s a flicker in his eyes—surprise, amusement, arousal—and then he drops. Just like that.
And fuck, it’s intoxicating.
This man—this man—one of the strongest, most composed men I’ve ever met, is kneeling in front of me. The way he looks at me—like I’m a goddess reincarnate—melts me.
He licks his lips. His hands find the curve of my thighs, his fingers firm, possessive, reverently.
I feel powerful. Desired.
Knock knock.
“Mr. Schwartz?” Stacey’s voice filters in from the hallway.
We both freeze.
His forehead rests against my stomach for a beat. I groan, tension snapping like a cut wire.
“Not now, Stacey.”
“Apologies, sir—it’s urgent,” she says again.
“I said not now,” he barks, gripping my thighs as if he’s scared I’ll disappear.
“It’s okay, Broderick. Take it.”
“I’ll come see you tonight,” he offers.
I thread my fingers through his hair, and he groans—low, needy—undone by the simplest touch.
God, this gorgeous man.
“I have SNL rehearsals.” I lean into him, exhaling slowly. My body wants this, but it would be impossible to work into our schedules. “Maybe we should stop for now. I won’t see you for a while. The tour, your work—it’s too much.”
He looks up at me, still on his knees, devotion written in the line of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to see you. For you, baby, I’ll do anything. Please, El. Let me prove it. I’m in this.”
And how the hell am I supposed to resist that?
I bend down, cupping his face. His skin is warm beneath my palms, rough with stubble and burning with sincerity. I want to believe him. But I’ve been here before—trusted too quickly, hoped too hard. And I was the one left shattered and disappointed.
“Okay,” I whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, putting him out of his misery and maybe easing some of mine.
When I pull back, his eyes search mine—clear, unwavering, filled with something I can’t quite name.
Chicago