17. Undisclosed Desires
Undisclosed Desires
My body still ached as a reminder of his relentless pursuit of my pleasure. I wasn’t complaining—this was exactly what I wanted, and he was living up to his role as my own personal sex toy. I chuckle at the thought while I prepare for a day of sightseeing before flying to Seattle.
I’d never been to Chicago before. One of the perks of being on tour is getting to see new places for the first time. It feels like my world is finally opening up.
Is this what Mom meant by living a little?
Thinking about her now feels less like having her on mind and more like a memory. I wish she were here—to listen to all my stories, to give me her advice. I miss her.
Would she be proud of me for stepping outside the safety of my bubble? For taking chances?
I guess I’ll never know.
I sigh, applying gloss and zhuzhing my hair in the mirror, there’s a knock at the door.
Who could that be?
I tuck my hotel keycard into my bag and open it.
“Good morning, sweetheart. I thought I’d be a gentleman and take you to breakfast this morning—seeing as I know how…frisky you get over waffles.” He smiles—a panty-dropping, full-dimpled smile. All cocky and smug.
Our history with breakfast events isn’t lost on me.
“Well, in that case, we’ll have to settle for the hotel’s breakfast buffet. Can’t risk paparazzi or someone snapping a picture of us.”
“No need, baby. I got you covered,” he says, trailing a hand over his body. He’s dressed exactly like one of my security details—black suit, white shirt, skinny black tie, black aviators. Radio plugged in his ear.
“Happy Halloween?” I ask, glancing down at myself in acid-washed jeans and a forest green knit sweater. “I’m not sure I’m following.”
He chuckles.
“I’ll show you around Chicago and moonlight as your bodyguard. No one will suspect a thing.”
He’s bigger than Chris by over a foot. He’d blend right in. Lord knows his size alone is intimidating enough.
I bark a laugh. “What? Broderick—is work slow? You’re really going to play hooky to show me around Chicago?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, just two friends…” He leans down to the shell of my ear and whispers, “Who fuck like champions.” He straightens again. “Enjoying the delights of Chicago. Plus, I might know my way around—what do you say?” he asks, extending a hand to me.
I swat his hand away. “No holding hands—it’s against the rules,” I say, walking past him.
“Pray tell, where in our rules is that stipulated?” he teases, falling into step beside me.
“Well, if I recall, Mark had some pretty strict guidelines. An oversight on his part if he forgot to email it to you. Should’ve been part of the security onboarding pack.”
“All right, whatever you say, boss.”
Giving Tony the morning off, Chris accompanies us and drives to a nearby café, where—for once—we enjoy a frisk-free breakfast. I dive into a plate of syrup-drenched waffles and chase it with a much-needed iced coffee.
After breakfast, Broderick takes me to Millennium Park to see The Bean—touristy, yes, but iconic all the same. He plays his part, humoring me by snapping a million photos while I marvel at a giant silver sculpture that, if I’m honest, looks suspiciously like a clitoral vibrator.
He even volunteers as photographer for a couple of fans who spot me, flashing them a charming grin as he frames the shot.
From there, he guides me along the Chicago Riverwalk, pointing out several skyscrapers his company has built or owns.
The way he speaks—animated, confident, alive with passion for design and innovation—stirs something in me.
I find myself in awe, not just of the structures but of him: his knowledge, his accomplishments.
We talk about a few more destinations to add to my travel bucket list—which quickly turns into Broderick recounting all the places he’s been and now promises to take me to.
Standing beside him, I feel small. Not just in size—but in experience.
Unworldly.
My life, until recently, has been narrow in scope.
How little I’ve seen.
How little I’ve dared.
Without him, I probably would’ve asked Chris to drive me around so I could take pictures through the car window.
Left to my own devices, I might have retreated to my hotel room to bury myself in a song draft or lose myself in a book.
But with Broderick, I’m outside my comfort zone—and grateful for it.
His phone rings just as we reach Pequod’s Pizzeria. Which he claims is the best in town.
“Hey, Eli,” he answers easily. A pause, then his brow arches. “Oh, did she now?”
He chuckles, his voice low and warm, while I watch him talk to whoever Eli is.
“Alright, yes—yes, I want to meet her. Let me confirm, and I’ll text you, okay?” Broderick says before hanging up.
“Everything okay?” I ask, fiddling with the cuff of my sweater, wondering who her might be. I know I shouldn’t even feel jealous, but I do.
Broderick makes me feel something I don’t quite have the right to—possessive.
“That was Elijah, my brother. I think I told you about him at the wedding?”
I nod.
He tilts his head. “He contacted my office, and Stacey may have let it slip that I was in town.”
I remember him mentioning that Elijah’s wife just had a baby—could that be who he meant by her?
“If you want to ditch me to go hang out with them, that’s totally fine.”
“You firing me already? Please, Miss Montgomery, I can do better,” he pleads mockingly. “I’m not ditching you, El. Would you want to come with? We can go after lunch?”
I glance up at him. His eyes—green and bright, filled with quiet hope—leaving me no choice but to agree. How can I resist a face like that?
“Didn’t you say his wife just had a baby?”
“Yeah, she’s a few weeks old now.”
“Maybe we should get them something to eat? New parents and all—I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”
His face lights up. For a moment, he just looks at me, unreadable, and then—
“Sweetheart,” he says softly, “that’s very thoughtful of you.”
Before I can react, his hand cups my face. Time slows down, my pulse pounding against my ribs. He might kiss me. And God help me, I might let him.
A car horn blares, snapping me back to reality. We’re standing on a crowded sidewalk in broad daylight. Just what I need—Elena Montgomery caught canoodling with her bodyguard mid-tour. I can practically hear Kylie’s eyes rolling from here.
I clear my throat and step back. Broderick clears his too, as though he’s only just come back to reality.
We order a few Chicago-style pizzas to go, along with some cheesecakes, before Chris brings the car around to take us to Broderick’s brother’s place.
During the twenty-minute drive, his hand rests lightly on my thigh.
He geeks out over the Wright houses we pass, and there’s something so endearing about it. He’s such a nerd.
We pull up to a modest two-story brick bungalow. The street is lined with trees, the faint autumn breeze carrying the scent of the pizzas Broderick balances in his arms.
“So, Charlotte is his wife—she’s a nurse. And I think their baby is...Mia.”
I nod, making a mental note of his family members. It feels as though a rock lodges in my throat. Meeting Broderick’s family doesn’t feel casual.
I shake the thought off, square my shoulders, and follow him up the three steps to the front door.
Broderick doesn’t even knock before the door swings open to reveal a man just as tall as him, though not as broad, with dark chocolate hair and a pair of black-rimmed glasses. They hug, complete with back thumps and grunts.
“Come inside—Charlotte’s just feeding Mia.”
“Eli, this is Elena. Phil’s little sister,” Broderick says by way of introduction.
He steps aside to let us in. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” I say as I toe off my shoes.
“Hey, no need to do that,” Elijah says.
“But my shoes are dirty—they’ve been outside,” I reply, embarrassment forcing heat to creep up my face.
Broderick chuckles, handing the pizza boxes to his brother and resting a hand on the small of my back. “Eli, it’s a cultural thing. Elena’s Filipino. They don’t wear shoes inside the house.” He toes his boots off too.
Warmth flares in my chest at his easy explanation and willingness to participate.
“Ah, yes—you mentioned Phil was, well…Filipino,” Elijah laughs at his own lame joke, and I can’t help but snigger.
“My brother, the comedian,” Broderick deadpans.
“Brody, is that you?” a woman’s voice calls out—I assume it’s Charlotte.
We head into the living room, which has been converted into a makeshift nursery.
Charlotte sits in a rocker, a cloth draped over her shoulder.
She’s honey-haired and beautiful, despite the exhaustion painted across her features.
Baby gear is scattered everywhere. Elijah clears the coffee table before setting the food down, then disappears and returns with plates and napkins.
“Can I get you guys something to drink?”
“El?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “We’re good. Have a seat, eat.”
Elijah sinks onto the floor beside the coffee table, opens a box, and pulls out a slice. Charlotte groans as the smell fills the room.
“Ugh, breastfeeding makes you absolutely ravenous,” she says. Elijah stands without hesitation to where she is and hand-feeds her a bite.
My heart nearly leaps out of my chest at the tenderness of it.
While we eat and Broderick catches up with his brother and sister-in-law, I notice how alike they are—their acts of service, their quiet observance. Elijah has already refilled Charlotte’s water bottle twice and changed Mia’s diaper without being asked, doting on both his wife and daughter.
How fortunate she is to grow up with a father like that. My own father paled in comparison, always opting for the ease of nannies. Elijah is Charlotte’s partner in crime. Their devotion could turn the most cynical into believers.
“Do you want to hold her?” Charlotte asks Broderick.
I stare at Mia in her mother’s arms—so perfect. Her tiny button nose, the dark lashes fanned across her cheeks, the soft rise and fall of her chest as her little lips work in sleep—it’s almost too much beauty for something so small.