I trudged out of the terminal, irritation seeping through my bones. All I wanted was a decent drink, but no - I had to maintain more composure than the drunken old bags they'd saddled me with. My head throbbed from answering their endless slurred questions. I could've suspended them for such behavior, but honestly, if I were stuck in their position, I'd be drunk too.
God, I hate flying.
I beelined to the first bar in sight and ordered a drink. Thank heaven it wasn't two yet; I'd made it just in time for last call.
Oh, fuck. I need to get my bag.
Even so, I didn't budge, savoring the quiet atmosphere of the empty airport halls. Then reality slapped me in the face — an employee had dropped me off. I weighed my options: Julian, my live-in assistant/butler/brother man (it's a long story), was already at the house, having been home for about three days now. I could wake him up, but guilt gnawed at me. I'd told him I wouldn't land until tomorrow, so he was probably dead asleep. After some mental wrestling, I settled on contacting Nando. He already owed me like ten favors, and if he protested, I could always remind him of that little detail.
I really don't want to call him.
Pulling out my phone, I scrolled through my contacts until I found his number. My thumb hovered over the call button before I chickened out and decided to text him instead.
Aye, are you awake?
Hellooooo???
...
Ain't it a bit early for your royal
highness to be up?
What do you want?
Mind coming to pick me up?
From where? I'm in PR right now.
The airport, dude.
In Puerto Rico?
Lol. Yeah. Uber, please.
Bro, I hate this keyboard.
I meant 'yeah, bro, please.'
I like the first one better XD.
But anyway, yeah man,
I'm coming to pick up my friend now.
Dude, we haven't talked for a min.
Wanna see the girl I've
been railing recently?
Bro... not now. I'm tired,
and I just want to go home.
Show me later.
Aww. Come on, man. Just one pic?
This one's a baddie, I promise.
she's cute; you'd like her.
No, dude! Damn! And don't go
sharing pics of women behind
their backs; that's weird.
Look, can you give me a ride
or not?
-_- Yeah, sure. I'll be there in
45, you grumpy old man.
I'm only 24! -_-
You know what... Whatever,
thanks.
No problem. See ya.
I sat there rolling my eyes at the ridiculous conversation, finding it utterly absurd. I couldn't care less about his girlfriend; she wasn't my concern. Besides, if I wanted a relationship, I had plenty of options. Women typically approached me first, anyway.
Seriously. I barely had to lift a finger before having interested parties lining up; I definitely didn't need his girlfriend. If anything, he should worry about her seeing me, along with any other woman he's interested in.
God, I hope this ride won't drag on forever. It isn't too late to call a damn Uber.
I pulled out my phone to check the time but got distracted, brushing hair from my eyes and handling mundane tasks—reading emails, responding to schedule updates. Before I knew it, I'd pocketed my phone without ever checking the time. Halfway to the bathroom, I realized my mistake and pulled it out again, immediately checking the time. Then I rolled my eyes at myself, remembering I had a watch on the whole time.
Dumbass... Okay, stupid. The time on your WATCH says 1:42 a.m.
I entered the bathroom, marched straight to the sink, removed my suit jacket, and folded it in half to hold between my thighs.
My phone dinged, then a few seconds later, dinged again. I paused, staring at my phone's darkened screen.
There's no damn way he's here already. Then again, he is dumb as shit; I wouldn't put it past him, but even so, that's kind of quick, isn't it?
Opening my messages, I saw multiple unread texts from Nando. I checked the time—only four minutes had passed.
There is no way he's here.
Sure enough, when I opened the messages, it was just him spamming me with nonsense. But the second image caught my attention... It showed him with a red-haired woman I recognized all too well: Audrey, my secretary. I'd sent her here to help set up the new building in Puerto Rico, and over the image was a bubble that read:
My friend.
I rolled my eyes... He'll have his hands full with that one. But then something clicked. She and Julian should have already been here—so what did he mean about coming to pick up his friend? I kept reading, only to discover he'd sent the picture "by accident." The next bubble read:
Oh, shit, wrong one.
My brother in Christ, how many photos of women do you have in your phone to be making this mistake? Should I be worried about what you're using them for?...
The last message showed a different woman—petite, with dirty blonde hair and stunning green eyes. She stood behind a bar counter, cocktail shaker in hand, flashing a practiced smile at the camera. Questions burned in my mind, but I needed to play it cool.
I distinctly remembered him showing me a picture of this second woman two months ago, practically glowing as he said, "Isn't my baby adorable?" The pieces were falling into place now, and with each revelation, my blood pressure climbed another notch.
So, which is your girl
and which is your friend?
You can't tell?
I mean both are out of
your league so I'm being
honest I can't really tell.
The first one is of me and
my girl and the second is of
my close friend I'm picking
up.
I see that's fine I'd rather
the second one anyway.
What!? No way, dude she's off
limits.
Why? Want me to hit on your
girl? Well, I don't want her.
First off, no. And second
off, why not? What, she's out
of my league and not even in
yours?
You said it not me; besides
,aren't you driving right now?
Whatever, dickhead.
He's cheating on her... It's a damn shame... She's way too good for him. No one deserves to be cheated on.
I sucked my teeth and slipped my phone back into my pocket. Then I started wetting my unruly black hair, trying to slick back the thin, wavy strands. My hair was too short for scrunchies—they never stayed in when I did it anyway—and today I didn't even have one to try with.
The water kept things flat for maybe a minute before the waves started rebelling again. Giving up, I left the bathroom and headed back to the food court, settling on the edge of an empty table. Almost without thinking, I found myself opening my messages with Nando and staring at her picture again. She really was stunning.
Even though he'd sent me plenty of pictures of her, we'd never actually met. I knew Nando hadn't shared any photos of me with her, either. He might be bold, but not that bold.
I'd seen photos of all Nando's conquests over the years, but I'd never kept any of them... except hers. Pretty creepy of me, I know, but I justified it by telling myself I'd never meet her anyway. So what was the harm?
If I'm being honest with myself, watching Fernando call her his girlfriend made me jealous, and I'm pretty sure he knew it. That's probably why he kept sending me pictures of the women he hooked up with. He'd even gotten brazen enough to send me nudes and videos of his... encounters. I had to threaten to report him to the police to make him stop that particular habit.
But with this beautiful woman, he always skirted the line. Like when he sent me a picture of her wearing only a T-shirt, curled up on the bed, shadows teasing just enough mystery beyond the hem. Or of her changing her shirt, a black lacy bra barely containing her. And then there was the one I shamefully couldn't delete—her bent over, one hand gripping the headboard, the other clutching the pillows, her exposed back arched, the image cut off just below her back dimples. That picture lived alone in a password-protected folder. The urge to look at it pulled at me, but I resisted. For now.
God, that's horrible. I really should delete it.
The other images were harmless—just candid shots of her going about her day. I snapped out of my thoughts, tucked away my phone, and watched a small group of people pass by before heading to a nearby Starbucks stall for a small coffee. After browsing the other food stalls, I made a quick trip to the bathroom.
When I returned, I perched on the edge of another table and gazed back into the middle of the hallway. My phone buzzed—another meeting added to my schedule. Rolling my eyes, I closed the notification and found myself mindlessly scrolling through my phone, only jolting to attention when I realized I was entering the password for that locked folder.
Well, I made it this far...
Anticipation surged through my veins as my finger hovered over the image. When I finally pressed it, my mind instantly began to wander, to fantasize, to crave her touch, to hear her cry out my name with each thrust—
I backed out of the app and swiped it away.
That's enough. Fuck, man... I'm sorry.
Guilt gnawed at me, but I still couldn't bring myself to delete it. The image lingered in my mind as I scanned the sparse crowds in the hall, people-watching. A human sunset tossed something in the trash and returned to her seat, ignoring the catcalls that followed her. I was mid-sip when my eyes focused on her. I choked on my coffee, coughing up the bitter, unsweetened drink and drawing strange looks from nearby patrons.
Is that her? No way... right? I must be imagining it. It can't be... Wait!
Nando's message flashed through my mind—he was coming here to pick her up. That was her; it had to be. I watched intently to make sure.
She calmly gathered her things, presumably having finished eating. I studied her features carefully. White. Check. Dirty blonde hair. Check. I waited patiently until she glanced my way, catching a glimpse of her striking emerald eyes. Check. That must be her. Nando's "friend."
I watched as she approached the nearby Starbucks fridge, selecting two drinks from the cooler before waiting patiently in line. She moved like a princess, and I couldn't help but admire it. She carried herself with such regal poise that she seemed almost untouchable... Too bad for her. I'd already decided to keep her company.
I was about to gather my things when I overheard a conversation between two idiots with an apparent death wish.
"How much do you think we gotta pay to get some quality time with the cutie over there?" Idiot number one jerked his thumb toward her. My breath escaped in a hiss as I tried to stay calm.
"I dunno, I got 50 bucks. Think that's enough?"
"No... You know what? Why pay?"
My attention kept sliding back to them while I listened, their words growing more disturbing by the second.
"What are you thinking?" Idiot two leaned in eagerly.
"Let's play a game of cat and mouse."
"Fuck yeah, dude, when? After she leaves the food court?"
"Yeah. You know how much whores like her like to be stuffed." Their shared chuckle made my stomach turn.
Ignore them. It's none of your business; who cares what two morons say? Go talk to her.
"Do you think she can handle us both at the same time?"
"Yeah, dude, look at her. She looks like a princess, but I bet she's a freak." The comment set my blood on fire.
Completely fed up and no longer able to stomach their conversation, I collected my belongings, checked that she was still in line, and fought to keep my composure. Curiosity pulled me closer to their table as I tried to appear casual, straining to hear their plans.
When she reached the counter, they lowered their voices.
I can't hear them; I need to get closer.
"She may look like a princess now, but when I'm finished, she's going to look like the slut she actually is." They were treating her like some disposable toy, and I'd had enough of their gross fantasies.
I tried to take a deep breath and walk past them, to ignore their creepy plan and perverted whispers, but the closer I got, the more my jaw tightened and my breath quickened. I couldn't just walk away. I had to say something; I had to discourage any bold ideas they might have. I slammed myself down at their table.
"You're going to do what to my fiancée?"
Apparently, we're engaged now... Lucky me!
I didn't give them time to respond.
"Listen closely, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dipshit, I swear to every god you can think of, if you so much as breathe in her direction again, they will have to fucking call a clean-up crew to scrape you off of every surface in this fucking food court. Do you understand me?"
"She's your wife? I'm sorry."
"Yeah, we were just joking, man. Sorry." Their pathetic backpedaling only fueled my rage.
"A JOKE? Right! Let's not make those anymore, yeah?" I flashed them a sarcastic smile and stood to find her. She was walking down the middle of the hallway. I quickened my pace to catch up, trailing behind until we reached the escalator, keeping my murderous glare fixed on those creeps until they vanished from sight.
Finally, I turned to look at her. She was so petite. I had to fight the overwhelming urge to scoop her up in my arms.
We rode the escalator down together, stumbling through an awkward conversation. I'd wrongly assumed she spoke Spanish—she didn't. When she finally opened up, I asked for her help with something, and to my surprise, she agreed. She reached up to touch one of the wet strands of hair hanging in my face, her sudden closeness making my heart race and my words catch in my throat.
She scanned the area, clearly looking for a chair or stool. I shadowed her movements as she wandered about, determined in her quest. Fighting back a smile, I collected myself before stopping her.
Make her reach for it again.
Ignoring my internal voice, I offered to kneel instead. She accepted, but what surprised me was when she pulled out a cardigan and laid it on the floor as a cushion. I made a risqué joke, which didn't register with her at first.
Guess she didn't find it funny.
But her delayed reaction finally came, and when it did, I laughed harder than I had in ages. My mind kept repeating:
You're so cute.
Over and over. She stayed flustered throughout, absently playing with my hair... It felt so nice. Eventually, she recovered from her embarrassment and asked about my preferred hairstyle. I told her, and she immediately got to work. The first time she tugged my hair, an unexpected soft moan escaped my lips. That pull caught me completely off guard... I silently prayed she hadn't heard.
But she had—her sudden stillness gave it away.
Fuck.
I mentally cursed myself, biting my cheeks to prevent any repeat performances. That's when she gripped my hair, pulling just enough to make me meet her gaze like before. Her movement wasn't harsh or abrupt but carried enough authority to command my attention without a single word. The unexpected action left me frozen, staring at her smug smile for several seconds after she released her hold.
I battled against the flood of inappropriate thoughts invading my mind.
That was hot... That was so damn sexy... Oh god... Relax, please relax. You need to calm the hell down.
I closed my eyes briefly, and upon opening them...
There stood Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dipshit. I couldn't help myself; I narrowed my eyes and growled at them just as she tugged my hair again. The mix of irritation and pleasure sent my senses spinning.
Then she did the throat thing.
Goddamn! Is this your everyday attitude, or are you just showing off for me?
I took a moment to collect myself, but she wasn't done making me wish we were alone.
She slowly leaned down to whisper in my ear, her warm breath dancing across my skin. Images flooded my mind—her kissing my neck and jaw while her hand tightened around my throat—turning my brain to absolute putty. Her words became the only anchor keeping me from tumbling down THAT rabbit hole.
"Easy there, tiger," she purred, her voice deep and seductive. "Remember, you asked me to do your hair. Why would you ask me if your scalp was so sensitive? Or were you just looking for someone to tease you?"
I was suddenly speechless; she could've told me to bark, and I probably would have obeyed without hesitation.
I'd beg her to sink her teeth into me. Mark me. Break me open. Hell, I'd settle for her hands digging deeper.
Her chest pressed against the back of my head and shoulders as she lingered there, still leaning over me, making it impossible to think straight. I blinked several times, trying desperately to rein in my racing mind.
Dude, relax... You're acting like a virgin, Jesus!