Gorgeous Rotten Scoundrel (17 page)

I nodded. I was over this shit the second I walked through the entrance.

I did one last smoothing of my hair, puffed up my chest and whipped the door open.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Heath was right about something for once: I was hobbling. That typically happens when one foot is five inches higher off the ground than the other. And wow, were the people who had been waiting for the restroom staring at me. I could only imagine what it looked like from the outside: The violent and rhythmic thudding off the door that could only mean one thing, the high-pitched moaning that likely carried over the music, the woman who appeared to have been beaten by a gang of bandits exiting from a closet. I tried to hold strong and keep my chin up, but the knowing smirks and whispers wore that out very quickly. I sped up my Quasimodo hobble through the hallway, eventually whipping off the other shoe and dealing with the sticky floors.

Mark was sitting alone at the bar, looking none-too-pleased. I noticed 3 empty glasses had accumulated around him, one of them was mine.

"Hey," I said, acting like I had only been gone for a minute.

"That boss of yours--" he said, turning to face me. His facial expression quickly changed when he saw mine and gave me the once over.

"Can we go outside for a sec to talk?" I had to tell him I was going home, and I had to tell him this wasn't going to happen. This had nothing to do with any future with Heath, but that closet encounter just reminded me I was definitely lying to myself about Mark. Mark and I were not happening no matter how many dates we went on.

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. I could tell he was even more agitated now. We stepped out to the sidewalk to the side of the entrance. People buzzed around us as they entered and exited the party.

"What the hell is going on?" He asked.

"Mark, I don't think...I'm going to go home."

His eyes narrowed, his lips pursed tightly as he got a better look at me. "What the hell happened to you? Is that a hickey on your neck? Where the hell are your shoes?" I looked down, and felt for my collarbone.
Busted.
"Were you just back there fucking your boss?" He shouted angrily.

"Mark, calm down and let me explain."

"Explain what? That you're a fucking cock tease? That you've been stringing me along with this little innocent act, waving your tits and ass in my face, when really you're a fucking slut?" And then that's what I realized what was off: his perfectly polished hair, his over-the-top chivalry, his "understanding," his perfect veneers. It was all a facade. I had been so focused on trying to see through Heath's that I missed the manufactured Nantucket-Ken doll in front of me.

"Excuse me? I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you don't know a damn thing about me! I was very honest about the pace I wanted to take."

"Except with that asshole. You just spread your legs in an instant for a paycheck! Then you have the nerve to bitch to me about how he doesn't respect women!"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that. You have no idea what has been going on between us."

"You think you can just waste my time like this? I've been turning down skanks like you all week to take you out on nice dates, all for a fucking hug?" He said grabbing my elbow forcefully, his dark brow furrowing. No this
mofo
didn't.

"Let go of my arm." I squeezed my stiletto in my left hand, preparing myself to use it if he didn't release me.

"Get your fucking hands off of her."

Both Mark and I turned our heads at the same time to see Heath standing there, a look of intensity I had seen only reserved for our conflicted sex romps. Mark's grip tightened.

"I have had just about enough of your bullshit tonight," Mark said to Heath.

"I said let go of her arm right now."

"Heath, I've got this covered," I wanted to diffuse the situation. People were starting to gawk, photogs were eagerly snapping away at us.

"Whatcha gonna do, pretty boy?"

"Guys, that's enough!" I called out, but they were both testosterone and alcohol fueled and they were guarding what they each felt was theirs. Did I ever mention Heath hates being called a pretty boy? Switching schools often as a kid, that was the thing people picked on him about the most. I know,
poor Heathy, too pretty.
That's what I told him when he first told me.

Heath shoved Mark, which served to get him to let go of my arm. I dove in front of Heath to push him back, and that's when Mark pushed me hard to get to Heath, so hard I fell to the sidewalk with a thud.

"You son of a bitch!" Heath said, lunging at Mark and planting a punch squarely on his well-defined jaw, that I now believed was crafted that way solely to be the perfect target for a haymaker. The crowd gasped audibly and the sound of cameras erupted to a crescendo. Mark stumbled back a few steps, clutching his jaw, then fell on his ass. Heath vigorously shook his punching hand.

"Your arm!" That asshole just got out of a cast.

"It's fine," he said, massaging his palm. "Don't you fucking get up!" Heath screamed, pointing down at Mark who was visibly stunned.

It happened all so fast, I was still on the ground watching in disbelief. "Come here," he said, helping me up. "Let's get the fuck out of here before the cops come." We slid into the limo and sped away.

A number of thoughts ran through my head: I was a little angry with Heath for escalating things because I hated violence. Mark was a jerk, but seeing him on the floor like that with his lip bleeding disturbed me. I was surging with adrenaline. I was embarrassed: how could I have gotten Mark so wrong? But most of all, I was hot, because
goddam that was hot
.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, panting. "I could've handled him."

"Sadie, don't start with that women's lib shit right now." He was clearly still on fire from the entire thing. "A man never fucking lays his hands on a woman like that. He did that in the middle of the street. What do you think he would have done behind closed doors? He's never touched you before, has he?"

"No...never. That was the first time I had ever seen him like that. I can't believe it."

"I knew he was a douche the second I saw him. Prep school piece of shit."

"I just think we could have maybe ended things more diplomatically."

"Fuck diplomacy. Do you think guys like him learn from diplomacy?" It seems Heath was working from the same playbook I had been using on him.

"Oh my god!" I said, having a sudden moment of contemplation about the wild turns this night had taken. I buried my face in my hands and stifled a laugh.

"Let me see," he said, grabbing my arm.

"It's fine," I said, looking up at him.
Oops, our eyes just locked.

This time it was me who jumped. Have you ever watched those NatGeo videos? The ones from the African bush, where the camera man sits in silence waiting for the lioness to pounce on the antelope? Yeah, that's basically what happened. He fell off the seat and landed on the floor of the limo, with me on top of him. I think for a moment he wondered if I was trying to fuck him or fuck him up.

Here we were for the second time in one night, each of us viciously trying to consume the other. I felt my dress rip AGAIN as he manhandled it over my hips and pulled down the cups of the bustier top so that my breasts were propped up, waiting to be sucked. I spun over to his dick, angrily ripping it out of his pants, swallowing it as he sucked on my lips, tugging on them and letting them bounce back. Then he started using his tongue. I squeezed his thighs as I took him all the way to the back of my throat.

I heard him let out a long sigh. Then I thrust my hips on his face to encourage him to keep going.

"Eager beaver," he said under his breath. My hips instinctively wound on his face as all hands were on deck with his cock, gripping it, licking it, massaging his balls. I couldn't hold out for long as I violently face fucked him. I came, stopping my oral endeavors to dig my nails into his hips and rock back and forth on that pretty face of his to an explosive climax, arching my back and tilting my head up, my hair tickling the small of my back as I called out all kinds of obscenities.

"My fucking turn you
tease
," he said, turning Mark's words against me. I rolled off of him, my hands and legs quivering as he sat up.

"I'm gonna fuck you doggie style. I have been dying to do that. Your ass is so perfect it makes me angry."

He pushed me in front of him so I rested my hands on the ledge where the window met the limo door. Then he slid inside of me, and I felt his warm sweaty skin stick to mine as he thrusted jaggedly, each pump going in with maximal force.

"Harder you bastard..." I reached around to grab his hip and pull him in harder towards me.

"Fuck you," he said, plunging in so deep that I involuntarily clenched every muscle in my body. "How do you like that, smartass?"

"Harder. More. You asshole...you cretin!" I was running out of things to call him, but I wanted to use every name in the book at him as he assaulted me with his dick.

He wrapped my hair around his hand and pulled back sharply so that my neck was fully extended. Another thrust. I wailed. "What was that?" He asked like a smartass, pressing his cheek against mine, his warm breath blowing on my cheek.

"More. You stupid son of a bitch."

Another painfully amazing thrust. "I'm going to drive so far into you, my cock's gonna choke you from behind."

"You fucking animal...you pretty animal."

His intensity broke with laughter as his pelvis slapped against my ass again. He readjusted my head with another yank, biting my neck hard enough that I thought he might break the skin. I cried out. Then he pushed my face against the cold glass of the limo window, and his thrusts grew more frequent. The glass fogged and cleared with each of my inhales and exhales. He kept my cheek pressed there, pounding and pounding. My hands flailed, looking for anything to take a hold of as he rammed his long cock deep into me.

Amidst our NatGeo sounds, I heard a click.

"Close the fucking door!" Heath shouted.
Oh shit, the limo driver. Was he deaf or just incompetent? Or maybe he wanted in on the action.

I didn't care, I had used up all my embarrassment walking out of the janitor's closet not an hour ago.

"Oh god...I'm going to spill my cum inside of you. You're fucking mine, Sadie."

"Come inside of me. I want your cum in me..." I wanted all of him in that moment and I know he wanted to give it all to me.

He reached over and pulled me up close to him, cupping one of my breasts, thrusting up, and this new angle was fresh and caused me to call out even louder. And he did exactly what he promised, burying his face into my hair, his warm breath penetrating the thick locks and tingling my scalp.

We both collapsed on the floor of the limo, a tangled, broken, messy, filthy, sweaty pile of limbs.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I woke up to the aromatic smell of coffee. I always found that the most pleasant way to wake up. I'm not going to lie, I felt a bit like I had been plowed over by a truck, but in the most incredible way. Everything was sore, including my little lady friend (she had really taken a pounding the night before), but it was all a welcome physical reminder of the night before. I looked around to get my bearings, then I remembered everything: the angst of seeing him with the girl, the closet, the fight, the limo. The way we laughed about how the clueless driver opened the door, fearing that we were continuing the altercation from the club. How we ran into the house, collapsing on the big comfy sofa in his living room, and fell asleep in each other's arms.

This is not a thing. This is not a thing.

I think this just became a thing.

"Good morning," Heath said from behind the kitchen island. His smile radiated with something new.

"Morning," I said, shrugging with a smile that glowed from the very center of my heart. I looked down, trying to hide my grin.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, turning to stir something in a pan on the range.
He's cooking for me. Swoon.

"About everything. About last night." He did the panty-dropping shy smirk. "Why, what are you thinking?"

"Just that you look cute. Like a beautiful mess." I could only imagine the toll last night took on my appearance. I motioned to straighten out my hair. "Leave it. It's adorable. I like seeing what I did to you." Then he winked at me, plating our eggs.

I bit my lip as my stomach flooded with delicious anxiety.

"Welcome to my life. Catch," he said, tossing his phone at me. "We made page six. Congrats."

"What?"

I unlocked his phone to find an internet article:

Formerly incapacitated lothario and supermodel, Heath Hillabrand was spotted sucking face with an unknown curvaceous brunette at the very popular White Party in the Hamptons. Spectators watched in disbelief as the festivities moved into a closet. Later that evening, Hillabrand was spotted engaging in a brawl defending the raven-haired beauty's honor.

"The video's on TMZ," Heath said.

"Nooo!" I watched in horror as the scene unfolded on his phone. "Do you think he'll sue?"

"I'd like to see him try. He was assaulting you."

"You do realize we are ridiculous human beings?"

"It was the best night of my life." His words stopped me in my tracks, and I felt the ache lurch back for a second, because I felt like this might end, and if it did, I feared that ache would stay for a very long time. "Come eat."

I joined him at the island, sitting on a barstool. He stayed on the other side, eating as he stood. There was a comfortable but electric silence between us.

"So he cooks."

"These eggs have taken me the the apex of my capabilities. What do you think, Miss Chef?"

"A little overcooked," I said winking at him. "Thank you for breakfast."

"So...you know I'm going to Paris tomorrow for my first gig since the accident."

"Yeah..."

"Why don't you come with?"

"Me...uh, really? Why? Do you need help?"

"Not as my assistant."

"Oh."
This is definitely a thing.

"Don't overthink it. Just come. I was telling the truth last night. I swear to you."

I was tired of fighting, and last night he finally accomplished his goal of fucking the bitch out of me. At least regarding this.

"But, I was supposed to see Nonna."

"She's doing fine, right? It's just a couple of days. How often do you get to pick up and go to Paris? I'm sure she'd want you to go."

He was right, she would. She was always a romantic and she always wanted me to find love especially because that was my only chance of having a family outside of her. In fact, after my brutal breakup with Kenneth, it was my grandmother who begged me not to let that experience ruin my ability to trust and love.

"I've never been to Paris," I said, already envisioning the millions of things I would want to cram into such a short visit.

"All the more reason to go."

"Won't you be working the entire time?"

"I extended the trip a day, so we'll be sure to have time to do whatever we want."

"Okay, I'll go, but only if you take me to the Eiffel Tower," I said, winking at him. I tried to contain my excitement, but it was buzzing on my skin and in the air between us. Heath let out a lungful of air as if he had been holding his breath while he waited for an answer.

"Of course, Sadie. Good...good," he said, nodding measuredly, but I could hear the happy smiles trying to escape his throat.

***

I found myself scrambling around town that afternoon, getting some last minute things together for the trip. Yeah it was three days, but I have a tendency to pack for a week's worth of clothing for every day of travel.

On my way back to the house, I was surprised to hear my phone go off with a call from Brock. I hadn't really spoken to him since he left except for a few texts to wish him well when I found out about his injury.

"Hey!" I was happy to hear from him.

"Hey Sade. How's it going?"

"Well, it's been a crazy summer since you left, but all in all, not too shabby."

"You're working with Hillabrand right?" Apparently they were familiar with each other from the "scene."

"Yeah. How are you?"

"Well, it's not great. I'm going to be out next season."

"Oh my god. I am so sorry!"

"I'm dealing with it."

"Well, please let me know if there is anything I can do."

"Actually, that's why I'm callin'"

"What's up?"

"I fucking hate Houston. I want to go back to New York for my recovery and I want you back with me."

"Oh...when?"

"I'm coming back in two weeks and I'll be going between New York and Houston for the rest of the year. I'm just not happy there and I don't want to spend the most depressing year of my life there." If I took Brock up on his offer, that would mean an early departure from Heath. Hell, I wasn't even sure what our employment arrangement would be at the end of the summer. All that was aside from whatever this thing was that we had.

"I need to think about this."

"I'll pay you whatever you want."

"I don't understand...why? There are other chefs."

"They're not you. I miss you, Sade. A lot."

WHAT?!?
This could not be happening right now. Brock had me around for years and now he was...What? Trying to tell me he missed me? And if he meant it in the way the tone of his voice indicated (not just that he missed my special roasted quail), him offering to pay me whatever I wanted felt very prostitute-ish.

"Well I miss
working
with you too. You're like a brother to me, but I'm not sure what I want to do." Whatever Brock thought might be between us, other than friendship, had vanished long ago. "This is all very sudden. You know I'll need some time to think about it."

"Of course. Just let me know when you've made your decision. I really want you to come back though."

"Alright. I'll talk to you soon."

I knew the smart thing to do was to sit with the news for the rest of the week so I could process these new developments. But the truth was as soon as I hung up, I already knew the answer in my gut. If Heath asked me to stay, I would not be returning to work with Brock.

***

The next morning was a mess, the car service was late and I scrambled to get ready for the last-minute trip, but we got in the car with just enough time to hopefully make our flight. We were halfway to the airport when I realized I had forgotten something.

"Shit, where is my phone? I thought I put it in here..." I scrambled trough my purse. "Oh shit! I left it on the kitchen counter after talking to Nonna. Dammit!" From my level of panic, you'd a thunk I just found out I was on the no-fly list.

"There's no time to go back. We'll only be gone for three days and everything is squared away with Nonna, right?" The way
Nonna
sweetly rolled off of his tongue made me want to purr at him like a pussycat.

"Yes. The nurse said she has a mild cough, she gets allergies. But we spoke and she said she feels fine."

"Everything will be fine," he said calmly.

It was small things like this that I could see blossoming in us. Heath was the yin to my yang. I got stressed easily, and he trusted that things would work themselves out. I was generally skeptical and distrustful of people, Heath had a gazillion associates. I could be cautious (some might call that uptight), Heath went with the flow.

"We can get you a throwaway or you can just borrow my phone while I'm at the shoot. I usually shut it off when I'm there anyway. I'll give you the number of the director for an emergency." He put his hand on my thigh, and the tension released from my body.

Dating Mark was a good thing after all. I was beginning to understand that you don't know anyone until you really know them. I had taken Mark at face value and assumed he was a gentleman, and I had written off Heath as soon as he answered the door. And yet yesterday, there was only one guy who proved he would never let anyone hurt me. Now don't get me wrong, I was still cautious, but I decided that Heath might just deserve a chance.
Baby steps.

***

Paris, ah Paris!
I should have known that I would be a goner. It is the city of romance, outdoor cafes, beautiful architecture, and art. First, we arrived at the Four Seasons. Heath had told me we would be staying at the Presidential Suite (which I was super excited about), but unbeknownst to me, he upgraded to the Penthouse.

It was
a-fucking-mazing
. The bathroom was covered in seamlessly-veined tile and was the size of my entire apartment in NYC. In its center was a deep soaking tub with a chromatherapy feature and a tiled ledge crowded with subtly fragranced candles. Our private balcony had an outdoor dining area and a dreamlike view of Paris; I felt like I could reach out and touch the Eiffel Tower if I tried hard enough. The room had an airy Parisienne feel: mostly ivory upholstery and bedding with touches of light blue and green. The opulence was in the details, fine crystal candleholders, glints of gold in the furniture and fixtures, carefully tended arrangements of flowers, intricately carved French doors, and mirrored dressers. While the room was contemporary, there were light hints of French baroque inspiration here and there, serving as a constant reminder we were in fact, in Paris. My perverted side noted that both the headboard and the wall behind it were padded, as if they built this room with our rage-sex in mind.

We were both exhausted, and Heath had a predawn wakeup for the shoot the next day, so we agreed to an early bedtime. I took a very quick shower to wash the travel scum off of my body, but could barely keep my eyes open under the warm spray of the shower. Emerging from the bath with an enormous plush towel wrapped around my head, I found Heath already in bed. He was tucked under the covers, wearing just his boxers, reading one of the books about Paris thoughtfully left on the night stand. He had taken a quick shower before me, and his hair had already dried into soft, fluffy, golden waves. I hadn't thought about what it would be like for us to sleep together like this. We did it once, when he was still wrapped in casts, but that was pre-sexual relations Heath and Sadie and things had changed drastically since then. I watched him for a little while, pretending to towel-dry my hair, partly because I loved watching the way the center of his brow crinkled a little when he concentrated and partly because I was nervous.

"Well, are you coming to bed or what?"

I slid in next to him, unsure of how to navigate this, but he wrapped his arm around me without even lifting his eyes from the book, dug his nose into my hair and kissed my temple.
Tread lightly Sadie.

"So many things to do. I've been all over the world, but so many times I just fly in and out of a country without even experiencing it."

"Well that's sad."

"Yeah, I am going to try and remedy that, starting with this trip."

"Thank you for inviting me."

"Thanks for coming. Can I ask you something? I've been thinking about it for a while now, and it's been nagging at me."

I shifted to look him in the eyes. "Sure."

"You know the night with Josh, when we were playing the music?" I knew what he was going to ask. "I know you got upset with me..."

"No...listen, I am sorry about the way I reacted. I wasn't mad at you. God I feel like such a bitch."

"Talk to me. What happened?"

"It was the song and it was my fault for asking."

"Yesterday?"

I nodded.

"My dad used to play the guitar too and he used to play that all the time. My mom would sing along. It's pretty much one of the only things I remember vividly."

"I see."

"And...I might regret saying at some point seeing you don't need any more boosts to your ego, but you sang it beautifully."

"I knew you liked my voice. Chicks dig the guitar too," he said with a conceited smirk.

"See! This is exactly what I meant!"

"I'm kidding!" I snickered at him. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No it was nice. It was a pleasant sadness. I hadn't felt my father's presence in a long time." Instinctively, I nuzzled my head on his shoulder. The moment was pulling me in and I couldn't fight it. "Do you remember your parents?"

He closed the book, rested it on his lap, and sighed. "No...my dad was never around and then my mother went to jail when I was 5. Then she died of an overdose when I was about nine, but I hadn't seen her since before she went to jail. She's a blur."

"Oh my god, I am so sorry."

"It is what it is, right? I bounced around for a while, but then I got lucky with the last family."