Chapter Four
Caesar
I wish we’d met differently. Her words disappoint me. Why is she so determined this is a one-off?
There could be lots of reasons. Maybe she’s married… or she lives in another part of the country. Whatever the answer, there’s nothing I can do about it except make the most of what she’s willing to share with me.
I shouldn’t be doing this without knowing more about her.
I’m normally much more responsible than this.
But that’s why it’s so exciting. As an eldest son, and heir to the family empire, I spend every day trying to live up to my father’s high standards.
For once, the thought of letting go feels liberating.
“So it’s just tonight,” I say, looking into her violet eyes. We’re both still wearing our masks. I don’t think she does this kind of thing very often. She’s enjoying being anonymous, and so am I, mostly. So I won’t remove mine unless she does.
“Just tonight.” Her eyes flare. “I quite like Cupcake.”
“Me too.” I trail my tongue up her neck. “She tastes so sweet…”
She sighs. “She’s braver than me. And more wicked.”
“Really?”
“Mm.” She slides her hands down my chest and pinches my nipples.
“Ow! Fuck.” Growling, I grab her around the waist, lift up, and twist, turning her beneath me. The skirt of the ballgown is now wrapped around us both, and I’m starting to feel hot and sweaty, because neither of us thought to turn on the air conditioning when we came into the room.
“I’m going to give you a hickey on your neck,” she says, kissing down my throat, “right above your collar, so everyone knows what you’ve been up to.”
“Don’t you dare.” Giving a short laugh, I take her wrists and pin them above her head.
Her eyes widen. “Oh dear.”
I give one long, slow thrust. “Want me to stop?”
She shakes her head, breathing hard.
So I don’t. I start moving inside her with purpose, groaning as I sink into her soft, warm flesh.
Lowering down, I press my lips up her neck, around to her ear.
She sighs and flexes her hands in mine, and I murmur to her as I trace my tongue around her ear, telling her how beautiful she is, and how lucky I feel that she’s sharing herself with me in this way.
She wraps her legs around my waist, letting me sink deeper into her, and I groan again and thrust harder.
I’m not far from coming, but luckily her ragged breaths suggest she isn’t either, and I want her to come first. So I lift up onto my hands and move up an inch, making sure I’m grinding against her clit each time I thrust.
Her face and neck are flushed now, and she moans with every push of my hips, her eyes fluttering shut behind the mask. Her black hair is spread out on the carpet like a fan. Her eyeshadow glitters in the fairy lights. She’s amazing.
“Open your eyes,” I tell her. “Look at me.”
She forces them open, and I drown in the violet pools.
“I don’t want you to ever forget this night,” I whisper, thrusting hard.
“I won’t.” She blinks. “I could never forget you.”
I can feel my climax building. Luckily, at that moment she gasps, and then she tightens around me, crying out with each pulse. I ride her through it, holding on as long as I can, then finally give in and let the orgasm take me. Pleasure engulfs me, and I groan as I come. Ohhh… that feels so good…
And then it releases me, and I take deep breaths as if I’m coming up for air from the bottom of a pool. Wow.
I blink and focus on her, to find her looking up at me with hazy eyes.
“Cupcake,” I murmur, releasing her hands and lowering down. “That was amazing.”
Her lips curve up, and we exchange a long, luscious kiss.
When I eventually lift my head, she moistens her lips and wrinkles her nose.
“You okay?” I check.
“Mmm. More than okay.”
Part of me would like to lie there with her for the rest of the night, but I’ve fucked the poor girl to oblivion on the floor, and she deserves better than that.
I withdraw, grab a tissue from the box on the coffee table, and dispose of the condom, and then we try to get up, laughing as we have to disentangle ourselves from her gown.
I pull her to her feet and lower her to the sofa, then tuck myself back in my boxers and zip up my trousers as I go into the kitchen. The fridge contains small bottles of water, and I retrieve two. I bring them back to the sofa, open one, and pass it to her.
“Thank you.” She takes it and has a few mouthfuls, then wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. “I think half my lipstick is on your face and neck. None on your shirt, though, luckily.”
I chuckle and drink from my bottle. “That would be fun to explain away when we go back.”
She smiles. She’s pulled up her bodice, but the gown is still unlaced at the back, and she looks delightfully rumpled.
“Maybe we should order up a pizza or something,” I joke. “I’d much rather stay here with you than go back to the ball.”
“We’ve already been gone for ages. They’ll be looking for you.”
“Fuck ’em.” I blow out a breath. Famous last words. My sense of duty makes me pick up my phone. I’ve missed five calls from Aurelia, and one from Marcus. He’s also sent a text. Sighing, I pull it up.
Where are you? Apparently you arranged to meet someone this evening and they’re waiting for you.
Fuck, I completely forgot. Wren Carter asked to see me tonight.
“Problem?” Cupcake asks.
“No, not at all. An old friend of mine is here, that’s all. I said we could catch up tonight.”
“Aw, I’m sorry I’ve made you late.”
I lower the phone and cup her cheek. “Don’t apologize. This is the best thing that’s happened to me in months. Maybe years.”
She chuckles. “Don’t bullshit me.”
“I’m not.” I stroke her cheek beneath the mask. “I had a great time.”
“Me too.” She smiles, then moves back and has another swig of water. “Tell your friend you’ll be down soon. We’d better get moving.”
Reluctantly, I text Marcus back. Been detained. Will be ten minutes.
He replies immediately. Where the fuck are you? You’re the patron of this charity. You’re not supposed to disappear for half the evening.
Irritably, I return with, Just say I won’t be long. “All right,” I say to her, getting to my feet, “come on, let’s see what we can do about your dress.”
“And your shirt.” She lets me pull her up. I gather my clothes, and she follows me through to the bathroom. “I’m so sorry about that.”
“Absolutely not a problem. You can come on my face any day.”
“Oh God, stop it.”
We’re both laughing by the time I take out the hairdryer. I plug it in and drop to my knees in front of her so I can dry her dress. She rests a hand on my shoulder while I concentrate on getting rid of the damp patch.
Her fingers slide through my hair, and I glance up at her to see her watching me. “Thank you,” she says softly.
“Least I can do.” It’s drying well, and after another minute you’d never know it had been wet. I get to my feet and pass her the hairdryer, then lift my chin so she can dry my shirt.
When she’s done, she turns around so I can lace up her bodice. While she fixes her makeup from her clutch, I do up my shirt buttons, tie my bow tie, tug on my waistcoat, and pull on the jacket. Finally, we return to the living room, and she slips on her sandals.
When we’re done, we observe each other. She moves closer and straightens my bow tie. “There. Perfect. You’d never know we’d had wild monkey sex.”
I chuckle, looking at her pink lips. “I wish you hadn’t put lipstick back on. I’d like to have kissed you goodbye.”
Primly, she offers me a cheek, and I give a short laugh and kiss it.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“It was a lot of fun, wasn’t it?”
I nod and tuck her hair behind her ear. I still think it’s a wig. I wonder what her natural hair color is? “It was amazing. I can’t believe how lucky I was to meet you tonight.” I hesitate. I can’t let her go without one more try. “Please… can I see you again?”
She looks up at me, and there’s longing in her eyes, but she still says, “I can’t, I’m sorry.”
I frown. I’m not used to being told no. Briefly, I debate telling her my name anyway. Once she realizes who I am, she might change her mind. That sounds arrogant, but it’s just practical—my money changes things.
But wasn’t that why this was such fun? Because she didn’t know who I was? My money and position had nothing to do with this. She had sex with me because she was attracted to me and nothing more. If she knew who I was, how could I be sure she wanted to be with me purely because she liked me?
I sound desperate now, and I huff an aggravated sigh.
“Poor Captain,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
She’s really going to walk away. I’m oddly shocked, and a little hurt that she’s not as affected by what’s just happened as I am.
“We’d better go,” I say, trying to hide it. “Come on.”
I lead the way out of the apartment, and we walk down to the elevator. We wait quietly for the carriage, then go in once the doors open, and I press the button for the lobby.
The carriage sinks smoothly. We stand a few feet apart, watching each other. I feel frustrated and resentful that I have no control over this. I want more. But I can’t make her agree to that.
“Don’t glower,” she says.
“I’m not glowering.”
“Yes, you are.” She moves closer to me. She’s taller now she’s back in her sandals, but she still has to look up to me. “I can’t believe I squirted over your face.”
That makes me laugh. I slide an arm around her and pull her toward me. “Best part of my week,” I murmur, bending to kiss her nose.
“Thank you for a fantastic evening,” she whispers.
“Thank you. I’ve had a great time.”
“I hope your meeting goes well.”
“Thanks. I hope you enjoy the rest of the ball.”
She brushes my cheek. “It felt… real, didn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I hesitate. “If I got on my knees and begged… would that make a difference?”
She laughs. Then she reaches up and touches her lips, ever so lightly, against mine. “I’m sorry.”
The elevator slows, and I lower my arm as she steps back.
The doors open, and we go out into the lobby. It’s busy, full of guests arriving at the hotel, as well as people coming and going from the ballroom. We stand a foot apart, and I feel a wave of panic at the thought that I’m never going to see her again.
“Well, goodbye,” she says, smiling.
I just nod. I can’t bring myself to speak.
She looks into my eyes. Then she lowers her gaze, turns, and walks away.
I watch her cross the lobby and go into the ballroom, and then she disappears around the corner.
I twitch, wanting to follow her, but telling myself at the same time that I have to let her go. “Fuck.” I can’t believe that’s it. We had such an amazing time. How can she just walk away?
But she has, and it’s over, and all I can do is move on.
Scowling, I turn and walk in the opposite direction toward the bar.
I really, really need a drink.
*
Three hours later
I stand on the terrace, looking out at the view of Waitematā Harbour.
Boats bob on the water, and the stars twinkle in the night sky like fairy lights.
The red and green lights from the nearby hotels and restaurants remind me it’s nearly Christmas.
I like the festive season, but I feel a hollow sense of loss tonight that isn’t going to pass anytime soon.
I sip the drink in my hand, thinking about Wren Carter.
She’s an old friend from my university days, and we’ve kept in touch over the years.
Tonight, she asked me to father her child.
I understand why she asked. She’s single, and she wants a baby, and there’s a years-long waiting list for single women.
I get why she doesn’t want a relationship.
Love is elusive, and there’s no guarantee it’s ever going to appear.
She and I have been friends for a long time, and so it’s understandable why she asked me, but even so, I’m still stunned at the request.
I’d have said it was something to do with my money, but she made it very clear she doesn’t want any, to the point of being willing to sign a contract stating she’ll make no claim to my fortune. She said I don’t even need to be on the birth certificate if I don’t want. She just wants my sperm.
I feel odd about it, and I don’t know why.
I suppose it’s partly because I haven’t thought much about having children, but I assumed I would at some point.
I also assumed I’d have them with my wife, whoever she ended up being.
It feels weird to think I could father a child and not play a part in its life.
Kids need a mother and a father, right? But that’s an old-fashioned point of view.
As long as the child is wanted and loved, it doesn’t matter who its parents are.
Wren deserves to have a child as much as any other woman, and I should just be flattered that she asked me. And I am. I’m incredibly touched. She said I had all the qualities she’d like her child to have, and I found that humbling.
So why am I hesitating? Why did I tell her I’d have to think about it?
I know why. I’ve spent the past three hours looking for the reason.
But Cupcake has vanished into the night.
After we parted, I’m convinced she left the ball, because not only have I searched for her, I’ve asked everyone I’ve met whether they’ve seen the woman in the fuchsia dress.
Some of them had, but they all said it was hours ago.
No, she’s gone, and I’m never going to see her again.
My frustration rises inside me like stomach acid, burning all the way.
It wasn’t just that we had sex. I’ve had enough partners through the years to know what sex is like when it’s purely physical.
And that’s not what this was. I liked her.
She was warm, chaotic, and funny, and I liked the way she looked at me.
I liked how she made me feel. I want to see her again. And I can’t.
I’m so fucking frustrated, I want to break something. But instead, I’ve had to spend three hours mingling and making small talk, and wondering if I imagined the way she jumped into my arms in the penthouse suite, and kissed me until I saw stars.
I can’t let what happened influence the answer I give Wren.
While, if I was dating, I would feel as if I’d have to ask my girlfriend first before I donated for a friend, that’s not the case here.
Cupcake isn’t going to crawl out of the woodwork and demand to know why I agreed to father someone else’s child on the night we met.
Merry Christmas, Caesar. Be grateful that you met her, and move on.
Moodily, I turn away from the romantic view and head back through the bar into the ballroom. I know it’s going to be weeks, if not months, before I get over her.