Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
S he smelled like jasmine. Delicious. Sweet. Tempting.
Ignacio gazed out the window at the cars and buildings whizzing by on the highway, restlessly tapping his knee, his thoughts never far from the woman sitting nearby, testing his patience and making his groin ache.
Under different circumstances with anyone else, the limo provided plenty of space, but with Delta riding with him, it was simply too small. Her scent wrapped around him like a soft, invisible fabric, urging him to move closer. He breathed her in, and longing pressed hard into his chest—a warning that he was already in too deep. How ridiculous that her scent could make his pulse race and his thoughts scatter. But that was the magic of Delta James. She was effortlessly intoxicating, whether or not she meant to be.
He’d known spending time together would be a bad idea, but he’d had no idea how bad. His attraction to her was fucking annoying. The minute he saw her standing in front of her home, his tongue might as well have rolled out between his teeth like a cartoon character. She was exquisite in the lavender gown, and her hair looked sensational. He instantly wanted to mess up her perfect hairstyle with back shots as he gripped the strands from behind. What man wouldn’t?
The ultimate had been when she shot him that little flirty glance from beneath her curled lashes. She had to have known what she was doing. For several seconds, he ceased to think. His entire body went hot, as if gasoline had been poured into his veins and then ignited with a match. Before this was all over, Delta James was going to be the death of him. Of that, he was certain.
To his relief, the limousine finally arrived near the Astoria Grand Hotel and rolled to a stop. The ten-story landmark had been built in the 1920s and dripped with charm and history. The Black and Gold Music Experience took place there every fall, honoring excellence in music and recognizing artists for their impact on society. The annual event celebrated their achievements, from electrifying live performances to unforgettable contributions to film soundtracks, showcasing how music inspires, connects, and enriches lives.
Ava climbed out of the limousine first and surveyed the area like a hawk. At the same time, Ignacio’s bodyguard, Randall—who had arrived ahead of them—positioned himself at the back end of the car. Well over six feet tall, he wore a dark suit and scanned the crowd with practiced vigilance.
Though Ignacio loved his career as an actor, this was the aspect of being a celebrity that he disliked the most. Unfortunately, some fans could become obsessive. He once had a stalker break into his home and climb into his bed to wait for him. While he felt sorry for the woman, the entire ordeal had been nerve-racking.
What happened was a thankfully rare occurrence, but he needed multiple close protection officers most days. On a night like tonight, he only required Randall since the venue had its own security.
Randall sent a subtle nod to the chauffeur, and he climbed out of the car.
“This is it,” Ignacio said to Delta. “Show time.”
For a split second, their gazes met in the car’s dim interior, and he saw a flicker of nervousness cross her features. He felt it too. The nervous energy. The anticipation of entering the unknown and putting on the performance of a lifetime.
The driver opened the door, and a rush of noise spilled into the car, breaking the cocoon of quiet inside. Camera shutters clicked in rapid succession, reporters called out questions to the invitees as they arrived, and the high-pitched squeals of excited fans packed behind barricades could be heard.
Ignacio emerged from the vehicle and adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. He was in his element, engaging the cheering crowd with a short wave before turning to help Delta.
“Ready?”
“Always,” she replied.
She took his hand, and he clenched his jaw against the crackle of electricity that danced across his skin. The moment Delta stepped out, the crowd went berserk.
“Ohmigod, it’s Delta J!” a young woman shrieked from the fan section, followed by a chorus of voices shouting for the couple.
There was no going back now. They had to stay the course and hope they’d get what they wanted. The roles they had taken on would be played out for the world to see, splashed across magazine covers and commented on by fans, detractors, and media.
Holding hands, they walked toward the edge of the carpet. Two members of Delta’s team—her publicist, Rochelle, and a slender man—approached immediately. They adjusted Delta’s gown and diamond choker and dabbed powder on her nose, though Ignacio hadn’t noticed anything wrong with her appearance. She looked as sensational as when they had picked her up.
They continued onto the carpet, this time with Delta’s hand in the crook of his elbow. He could feel her fingers pressing lightly into the fine fabric of his jacket.
The cheers from the fans were deafening as they screamed their names and begged for autographs. They paused to sign a few, with Ignacio reaching over one woman’s head to take a black-and-white photo of himself and sign it. He handed it back to the owner, who jumped up and down as if she had inherited a fortune.
“I can’t believe you’re really back together,” said a young woman directly in front of him, practically vibrating with tears of excitement.
Ignacio shot a faint smile at Delta. “Some things are meant to be.” Damn, he was good. He deserved an award for Best Actor. Delta’s answering smile was just as convincing.
Rochelle came over and gently guided them toward the waiting media. The camera flashes intensified. Ahead, Ignacio spotted Victor Creed, a platinum-selling pop/R&B artist. He and Delta had done a duet on his last album. He greeted them with a brief nod and then posed.
Finally, Ignacio and Delta arrived at the main backdrop, where the press congregated for the money shots. A steady stream of yelling ensued.
“Delta! Ignacio! Over here!”
“Delta, can we see that gorgeous smile?”
“Show us the dress, Delta!”
“Ignacio! Ignacio!”
They struck their poses, and then Ignacio stepped aside so Delta could have the limelight for a moment. She did an over-the-shoulder move, one that he’d seen her execute numerous times before. His attention narrowed to the “I” tattooed on her back—his initial, and at the time she got it, her commitment to him. Had it really all been a lie? A sick game she had been playing?
He studied her profile as if the answer would appear before him, but all he saw was beauty, style, and grace. The camera loved her. She continued showing off the back of the dress, which had a jeweled design that ran straight down the middle of her back and over the curve of her plump behind.
Memories from the past flooded him—torturous thoughts of his tongue dragging up the crack of her ass, of gripping her hips and thrusting into her from behind while she gripped the pillows and cried out his name. Nacio .
Ignacio wiped away a bead of sweat that had formed on his forehead.
Moments later, he stepped closer and pulled Delta against his side, one hand resting low on her back, her arm curled around his waist. Her soft breast pressed into his side, and his nose filled with the scent of her perfume. Finally, Rochelle ushered them farther down the line, and Ignacio breathed easier, creating space between them. He hadn’t realized how much being in such close proximity to Delta had caused him to tense up.
As they strolled into the dimly lit venue, a female voice cut through the quieter hum of voices and activity. “Ignacio! Delta! Over here!”
Brenda Morrison Santorini, the East Coast editor of The Entertainment Report , based out of Los Angeles, waved them over.
Ignacio guided Delta to Brenda.
“Brenda, what are you doing here?” he asked, giving her air kisses.
“Trying to get the scoop on the two of you,” she replied.
Her skin was amaretto-brown. She had full lips and a tapered cut that flattered her oval face.
“Don’t you have people to do this for you?”
“I do, but two of my top people are out with the flu, so here I am, doing the grunt work,” she said with a smile. “Delta, you look fabulous, as always.”
“Thank you, Brenda.” More air kisses.
Brenda wasted no time in asking the tough question. “How does it feel to be back together after all these years?” She stuck a mic in Delta’s face.
Delta let out a soft laugh. To her credit, it sounded completely natural. “Like coming home.”
Brenda’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he could see she was eating it up. “What led to the reunion?”
Keeping an arm around Delta’s waist, Ignacio answered this time. “Timing is everything. Sometimes relationships don’t work out, and later, when we gain clarity, we realize what’s missing and can course-correct.”
“Will it last this time?”
Brenda wasn’t the typical gossip blogger. She was a credentialed journalist, so the question hit hard. The last time they broke up, Ignacio had been lost and used other women’s bodies to numb the excruciating pain. That would not be the case this time. This time, he wasn’t a fool. The relationship wasn’t real, and he knew Delta didn’t care about him.
“No one can predict the future, but we’re happy and taking our relationship one day at a time.” He and Delta took a moment to look into each other’s eyes.
No doubt their “mutual adoration” would play well on camera. Their affection was manufactured for the audience, but he nonetheless experienced a tightening in his chest.
Brenda nodded her satisfaction at the answer. “I heard a rumor that you’re using your downtime between movies to shop the next indie film you’re directing. Is it true?”
The Entertainment Report had been purchased by Brockwell Media, a film production company based in Atlanta, which was why Ignacio hadn’t hesitated to stop and talk to Brenda. If he played his cards right, a little goodwill could go a long way in this instance.
“Your sources are correct,” he said with a humble laugh. “The film is titled Wrong . It’s very personal to me and loosely based on a family story.”
“Interesting. Will you be starring in it?”
“No, I’ll be behind the camera.”
“Well, I wish you the best with your passion project. I know you’ll knock it out of the park. Delta, how is that album coming?”
“I’m in the studio working hard every day,” Delta replied.
“Do you have a release date for your fans?”
“Not yet. I’m a perfectionist, and I won’t release the album until it’s where it should be. I owe my fans that much.” Looking into the camera, Delta touched her chest to show her heartfelt sincerity. “Be patient with me. I promise you’ll love it.”
“I’m a Delta J fan myself, so I’m looking forward to your release. Will this album include?—”
Rochelle came up behind them. “We have to go,” she whispered, nudging them with gentle fingers.
Brenda smiled. “Thank you both very much. Enjoy your evening.”
They sauntered away, and Rochelle guided them to their table in the huge ballroom. The luxurious décor included gold chandeliers, sleek black marble floors, and small floral arrangements on each table. The hum of conversation filled the space, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter from the A-list guests.
As Ignacio helped Delta into her seat, he noticed people watching them. Sitting beside her, he heard her let out a slow, controlled breath.
“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” he asked.
“I guess not.”
Her voice was neutral, and he couldn’t tell if she was serious or being sarcastic.
“How do you think we did?” He slipped an arm along the back of her chair.
“I don’t think anyone will have a clue we’re being dishonest, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Her bare shoulders shimmered under the soft lights, capturing his attention. All the pretending should have been draining, but Ignacio felt the opposite, as if the touching, brushing against each other, and smelling her perfume had invigorated him. He felt oddly alive, his nerves buzzing with restless energy.
Her full lips parted slightly, as if she had more to say, and a thought entered his head. Completely crazy.
Kiss her.
He remembered how her lips used to feel against his. Petal-soft. So soft he could kiss her for hours and never tire of her succulent mouth. He wanted that experience again.
Right here. Right now.
He leaned closer, and she stiffened. “Go with it,” he whispered, brushing his nose along her ear.
Her body remained tense, and she turned slightly toward him. “Ignacio, I don’t think?—”
He kissed the corner of her mouth, and then, with deliberate slowness, used the tip of his tongue to taste her before capturing her plump bottom lip between his. Her soft mouth yielded to him, and what sounded like an involuntary whimper escaped her.
Ignacio gently tugged on her lip before releasing her. Delta’s breathing sounded jagged in his ears. The teasing gesture only lasted for a moment, but he turned rock hard, his pelvis tightening like a clenched fist.
As they looked into each other’s eyes, Ignacio wanted to pull her closer and kiss her again, longer this time and more thoroughly, unconcerned if they had an audience.
Then a memory slammed into his brain. A small velvet box. An engagement ring never given. Sitting in the safe at home.
He eased back and removed his arm from the back of her chair. “That should get the tongues wagging,” he said, his voice rougher than expected.
“Yeah,” Delta replied softly, her eyes downcast.
The lights dimmed, signaling that everyone should take their seats because the ceremony was about to begin. A rapper and his wife sat next to Delta and immediately struck up a conversation.
Meanwhile, the magnitude of what Ignacio had done weighed heavily on his mind. He ran his fingers through his hair as his thoughts raced.
He had done a very foolish thing. He had kissed Delta and tasted heaven on her lips.
And now, he wanted more.