Capture Me: Alpha Billionaire Romance (Hollywood Dreams) (2 page)

Paisley squealed in protest but no one paid her any attention.

“We really couldn’t—”

Sadie cut me off. “Hell yeah we could.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed, not exactly giving me the same delicious zing that Liam had. “Do this for me, please?”

I tried not to smile but couldn’t help myself. She knew how much I hated taking anyone up on this sort of thing. I could afford it but Sadie wasn’t set up with family money like I was. She’d planned tonight just for me and I wasn’t going to take that from her.

“As fascinating as all this is,” Paisley said as she stepped halfway through the curtain, “I’m ready for my next shoot.”

“Hey.” I snatched up the red bra from the rack that matched Paisley’s corset and tossed it at her. “You’ll probably need this.”

CHAPTER 2

Tessa

I took a one-hundred-dollar sip of wine.

At least, it sure seemed it would cost that, given the décor of this place. And it was all compliments of this table’s usual guest, Liam Rising.

Candles illuminated the sleek lounge, and the way the light flickered off the vaulted copper ceiling provided a delightfully mysterious atmosphere. The dance floor held a small yet intimate presence, giving little opportunity for anything but pressing against that special someone.

I could only think of one special someone I wanted to be that close to right about now.

“You’re thinking of Liam, aren’t you?” Sadie elbowed me.

I playfully shoulder-bumped her back. “Just because you’re my best friend doesn’t mean you know all my thoughts.”

“If you gave that look to any guy in here, I’m pretty sure you’d have ripped each other’s clothes off before you made it outside.”

Ripping Liam’s clothes off?
The thought of pulling that tee over his head, nipping my way down—

“Do I need to toss some cubes down your dress?” Sadie pointed over to the wine chiller. “I thought you two might hit it off, but damn. If Paisley hadn’t had that second session, I probably would’ve had to pry you two apart.”

“You know that’s not my style.”

“Still hung up on that three-dates-before-sex rule? Get over it already. That predates your sophomore year.” Sadie leaned forward and grabbed the wine bottle by the neck. “You and numbers. No one’s going to keep track, you know.” She swirled the bottle around as she talked. “If you want to fuck, then fuck. Why wait? With how rarely you get past the first date, I’m surprised you ever make it to three.”

“Exactly,” I said, feeling like my point had been proven. “I don’t have time to mess with anything that’s meaningless.”

“Make time for someone and get past the third date for me. What about Liam?”

“We’d need to have a first date to get past three.”

“You could count tonight. He did get us in here. Even if we had our names on the guest list, we probably wouldn’t have gotten in.”

“Guest list?” I shook my head. “Until you dropped Liam’s name, the doorman swore there wasn’t a list. You’re a model. You’d think that alone would get us in the door.”

“You could so be one, too, if you wanted.”

“A model? Yeah right. I went to school to take over my father’s company. Like I’d have time for anything else.”

“Just saying you
could
be. Like you could have some fun with Liam.”

“I’m here with you and I’m having fun.” I smiled. “Know who doesn’t have a three date rule? You. Anyone here catch your eye?”

“Bet if I got to know the doorman a little better we could get in here any time we want.”

I laughed. “Oh you are bad.”

Maybe if I got to know
Liam
a little better, we could get in here any time we wanted, too.

CHAPTER 3

Liam

I swirled the merlot and watched as the streaks formed inside the glass.

It was something I did every time I poured a new bottle of wine. There was beauty in the way the droplets formed and separated, and in the next swirl, they were gone. Some people thought these legs related to the quality or sweetness of the wine, but tonight, all they made me think of was Tessa.

Her long legs in those heels, in that dress . . .

In that way, I’d always been similar to wine. One swirl and I was on to the next girl, the next thrill.

Those legs made me want to stop just to know what they felt like wrapped around me.

I shifted in my seat. Just the thought of her got me hard.

“I think we need another bottle.” The smooth voice from across the table took me from my thoughts.

I looked up at my date. Maggie . . . wait, no . . . Megan. Maggie was last week. A damn disaster, just like every other date.

I gave Megan a nod. I waited for her to smile, to put her hand on my arm, to do something to show she was having a good time.

I wanted to know why she was here.

Megan flipped through the wine list. Her long nails made
click, click
sounds against each plastic covering. Ticking down the possibilities. She skimmed through a third time, making me think she really had a favorite in mind. Maybe she was looking for one we’d both enjoy. I did tell her I liked my wine sweet.

“Let’s get the good stuff,” she said, then her eyes lit up. “This one.”

I leaned over to see her point at an incredibly expensive and awfully dry Cabernet I’d tried and sent back a few months ago. It had made the roof of my mouth feel like gravel and it didn’t taste much better. The unpleasant memory made me clear my throat.

“Have you tried that one before?” This place wasn’t pricy but this girl still managed to find something that cost a few bills.

“No, but anything that expensive has got to be good, right?” Megan gave me an expectant smile—her first real smile of the evening.

Instead of getting caught up in how hot she was, she made me think of Tessa.

Because Tessa’s smile was so opposite.

When I first saw Tessa smile, it hit me like no other woman ever had. The last time I felt that kind of rush, I was about to heli-ski down the Swiss Alps. Making her smile was like the moment before I jumped, when I was the most exposed, thrilled, and alive. That split second before I leaped off the helicopter, when everything came to a head and I could still turn back but there was no way in hell I’d give up that high.

I looked at Megan, wanting to give her a shot. I was here with her, after all. But then, every time I looked at Megan not smiling, it made me want Tessa here even more.

Tessa had this look about her like she was real.

The longer I sat here, the more I saw that the only real thing about Megan was that she wanted my money,
real
bad. That was the only thing girls seemed to want from me. That and my connections.

I didn’t know what made me send the most expensive bottle that Echo offered to Tessa and Sadie’s table tonight. It cost ten times what this one did. It wasn’t like I cared about the money—saving it or spending it.

I wondered what Tessa would have picked if she was given the same list as Megan.

The waiter stepped beside the table. He had a face I almost wouldn’t mind photographing. All angles and high cheekbones, but there was the matter of the crooked nose. Probably from some fight. He raised his eyebrows and leaned forward as if to say,
I have eight other tables and I’ve been by here four times. Please, God, tell me you know what the hell you want already.

Megan held up the menu, about to point at her choice, but I couldn’t take one more tap of those nails.

I nodded at the waiter. “Just the check.”

CHAPTER 4

Liam

“Evening for one, sir?” Randy asked as he opened the lobby door for me. His eyes crinkled as he smiled, reminding me that though the man had been through two tours in Iraq, his heart had never left home.

“Pretty sure most Brooklyn’s doormen don’t comment on the tenants’ private lives,” I said, and reminded myself he wasn’t being an ass, just like I had to every time he gave me hell.

I got it. He gave a shit about me. But he really didn’t have to point out the fact that I was twenty-five with no plans to settle down anytime soon every time I walked through the door.

That was the thing—I would never
settle
.

“It wasn’t really a question, sir. You do own the whole building.”

“All the more reason to keep it to yourself.” I didn’t know why I bothered. I never really meant it and Randy had been my family’s doorman ever since my parents moved to New York from Switzerland fifteen years back.

Randy handed me the box of mail for the week. I turned and dumped it all straight into the trash. This was our routine.

“Like I’ve said before, just toss my mail. There’s no reason to sort through junk.”

Whether it came as a request for a blurb from a gallery or some plea to donate to the charity of the month, everyone wanted a piece of me. They didn’t even know me. I’d be happy to help, depending on the cause, but if they couldn’t bother to understand that I needed some sort of connection with everything I supported, then I didn’t have time for them. A random letter in the mail wasn’t going to do it for me.

Randy reached into the trash and pulled the box of mail out, then made a show of grabbing a few letters that had slipped out. “Your mail, sir.”

“Not going to let it go this time, are you?”

Randy shrugged and I could see his traps flex under his tailored suit. Though he had to be in his fifties, he stayed in shape. I’d extended the use of my private gym to my staff. Dad always said that if you kept everyone happy, they’d work harder and longer for you. Sometimes the little things stood out most.

I ran my fingers through my wavy hair. I’d started the nervous habit sometime after coming to the States. It was a big reason I grew it out and kept it long.

The movement was soothing and it made me think of Tessa again. I wanted to know what it would feel like for her to run one hand through it, then the other. Take it in her fist and kiss me so deep—

“Sir, the box?”

“Got it.” I reached over and tucked it under the crook of my arm. “I’ll even go through it.” The words spilled out a moment before I could catch them. I didn’t want to bother with this trash, but after I said I’d do it, I would.

Walking through my front door was my favorite moment every day. The floor-to-ceiling metal door said modern vibe meets New York protection. Not that my security alarm wasn’t state of the art.

One side of the loft kept the old warehouse feel with the washed out bricks. I added my own bit of color to the room with floor-to-ceiling photographs. All beautiful women, all naked in sensuous poses. This was not a wall of pin-up girls or what you’d find stuck together in a magazine some boy stashed under his mattress.

I’d dated only one girl on this wall and I kept the print here because I didn’t have the heart to take it down. The photo marked the pivotal reason I moved from landscapes to models. I knew when I’d taken it that I’d found my passion. She and I had spent hours in the bedroom and I didn’t have a single photo of her with her clothes on.

When the morning light had shone through my vertical blinds, it hit her curves in just the right way to give her tiger stripes. This one photograph embodied the balance of a sensual being meets fierce woman. I’d been creating the same message with my corset exhibit.

But I wanted to find the same passion and connection with a woman beyond my photos.

The lights powered on as I walked into the open kitchen and set the box of mail onto the marble countertop. I glanced over at the two-sided fireplace separating the main living room from the master bedroom and pushed down the urge to torch the mail. Something told me that if Randy didn’t find at least a handful of opened letters, I’d never hear the end to it.

The simple envelopes usually had the most to say. They didn’t smell like they were bathed in perfume or contained tasteless nude selfies of women in their bed, bathtub, or barn. I didn’t think I’d ever get the image of the middle-aged woman in the chicken coop out of my head. Overalls would never look the same again.

I grabbed the last two plain-looking letters and tossed the rest into the recyclables. Randy would just have to compromise. I sliced the top of the first envelope and before I had it unfolded, I recognized the letterhead for one of the top real estate agencies in the Tristate area. I was about to just toss the last piece of unopened mail until I saw “FINAL NOTICE” stamped across the front. Probably some discount auto insurance quote, but I played along.

About to unfold the paper, the eagle crest and “United States of America Immigrations and Customs Enforcement” at the top made my fingers go still. I glanced down at the words “FINAL NOTICE” on the white envelope lying on the dark wood. It stood out like a lone skier flying down fresh powder.

I wanted to stuff the letter and every word on it back into the box and forget this ever happened. I readied myself to scan the page, took a deep breath, and somehow knew it’d be my last moment as a free man.