12. Tyson

12

TYSON

An hour passes before the team and I locate Kiana.

Every one of the sixty minutes feels like fucking torture as the possibility I've lost my asset keeps me on edge. I'm a rude asshole bulldozing my way down narrow side streets in the heart of London and shouldering people in any crowds out of my way.

But I don't give a damn when Kiana's missing and we're in a foreign country. I'm finally able to locate her when one of the guys on my team hacks into her phone and retrieves her location.

I find her at the railing of the Westminster Bridge, cold air blowing her hair back and her eyes puffy from crying.

Bystanders recognize her too. Several pause and snap photos as if they're not witnessing a celebrity having a hard time.

The second I'm approaching, they scatter like ants. A good decision on their part. I've got no problem squashing them like bugs.

"Princess," I growl. "What the fuck did you think you were doing wandering off?"

"I knew you'd find me. I left my location setting on for a reason," she mumbles in answer.

"Then what the fuck were you?—"

"I needed a moment alone. Is that against the law?" she asks, looking up at me. The whites of her eyes have pinkened, proving what I thought is true.

She has been crying.

She gives off a lone, sardonic laugh. "I couldn't even have that. People recognized me and started coming up for photos and autographs."

"Princess…" I trail off, detecting the pain in her voice. Then I steel myself, hardening at the realization now is not the place.

We're out in public. I can't go getting distracted.

As fucked up as the situation with her ex is, her safety's my priority. Not her emotional well-being.

That comes later.

"You want to… go somewhere?" I ask. "Being out in the open on this bridge isn't a good idea. Too many people have noticed you. The tabloids won't be far behind. That's not even taking into consideration the person after you."

"Just… please take me back to the hotel."

I nod, then curl an arm around her to guide her at my side.

"Alright, princess," I say. "What princess wants, she gets."

It's a joke. A callback to the other week when I first gave her the nickname. Even through her heartbreak, she gets it, aiming the smallest smile at me.

I'm ready to drop Kiana off in her suite and give her the much-needed privacy she craved, but when I turn to go, she grabs my arm. I glance down at her slender hands wrapped around my thick, veiny, hairy forearm, then meet her eyes in silent question.

The look I give her is plain as day.

You realize you're touching me, right?

She doesn't let go as her eyes answer me. Still red and puffy, the almond-shaped orbs soften with humor.

"Mind hanging out with me?" she asks.

Every muscle in my body clenches up. "In your hotel room?"

"Sure," she says. "It's just like my penthouse. Except there's a minibar and we can see Big Ben from my balcony. And… and there's room service. We can order whatever we want. The label's footing the bill. Why not run it up and make those assholes pay?"

An unexpected laugh rasps out of me. "Calling your own label assholes now, princess? You must be pissed."

"You said it yourself. They overwork me. They… they treat me like some piece of property."

That's because, in their eyes, you are.

"Alright, under one condition."

"What's that?"

"You never. Ever. Wander off again."

"Tyson—"

"Never again," I repeat in a sterner tone, my voice rough. "It might be turning out okay now, but somebody is after you. You will stick by me and the security team."

She blows out a sigh, kicking off the heels she's wearing. "Fine. But I have a condition for you too."

"And that would be?"

"You have to put one of the hotel's complimentary robes on with me!"

Before I even get what the hell's happening, I've got one of those plush terry cloth robes on and Kiana's laughing. She's put one on too, the robe much looser on her than it is on me. Wandering over to the phone of the ritzy British hotel, she dials room service and orders everything on the whole damn menu.

Including several bottles of champagne that cost thousands of pounds.

"You weren't kidding, were you?"

"Nope! I'm running up the bill. It's the least I can do. They don't care about my heartbreak. What I'm having to go through on this press junket answering questions about the stupid album. Eleven love songs all about Shawn. And now they want me to pretend it's about some other guy?"

"They said it'll attract more attention."

"Maybe I'm sick of attracting attention. Maybe I want to be normal for once."

"Alright, princess, calm down. You're preaching to the choir. I'm on your side."

Her eyes shine meeting mine. "You are… which is why you're going to drink this champagne with me."

Room service knocks in the next minute.

It takes five of them to wheel everything inside the large suite. Five carts fill up an entire wall, covered with silver domes and glass vases of fresh flowers.

But princess has only one thing on her mind—the bottle of Cristal that she snatches up and wrestles with 'til it's popping open and fizzing all over the damn place.

I rush over to contain the mess, grabbing towels and stealing the bottle away from her.

"This is why you let the grown up in the room handle it," I taunt. "Are you even old enough to drink?"

She scoffs, snatching the bottle right back, drinking straight from it. "You're kidding, right, Goliath? I've been famous since I was seventeen. I was partying at all the hottest clubs by eighteen."

"That's not something to be proud of. It's a predatory industry."

"I've made it out okay… or as okay as I could," she says, shrugging. She pads over toward the bed clutching the champagne bottle. "I was sick of the party lifestyle by the time I was twenty. Maybe that's why I was so into Shawn. He was stability… at least he was supposed to be."

"You've outgrown him."

She plops down on the bed and takes another swig of the bottle. "I know you're just trying to make me feel better. But… thanks."

"Fuck making you feel better. I don't lie to spare feelings. It's the truth. You're better than him," I say bluntly. I grab the second bottle of champagne and pop it open for myself. "Everybody can see it but you. You were out of his league."

She leans back slightly, her arms holding her up behind her, legs dangling off the bed.

To be honest, she looks gorgeous like she is, the plush robe slipping slightly open, hinting at little to nothing underneath. Her curls are wild and free, unbraided from the wig cap they'd been trapped under all day. She bites down on her bottom lip as she aims a grateful smile at me and those damn dark, almond-shaped eyes of hers glitter more than ever before.

I take a long swig from my champagne bottle. More so out of distraction.

Because this asset— this woman —is about to get me in a hell of a lot of trouble.

I can already sense it.

"Tyson, tell me about yourself," she says after pausing. "You're always so… about business. What do you do for fun?"

The question stumps me. I'm forced to think on it as I search for the last time I had fun .

Fun doesn't exist in my world.

Rarely has it ever.

Not since Jax passed away. Before that I was usually burdened by work. If it wasn't my time in the Marines, it was all the contract work I took over the years. I always claimed I'd make time for stuff like hobbies and vacations later.

I said one day me and Jax would go camping like we used to when we were kids.

That day never came because he died before it ever could…

I swallow down another large amount of champagne, then shrug. "I don't believe in it. Work has always been in the way."

Kiana laughs. "You know, we have a lot in common when you think about it. Both workaholics who have dedicated ourselves to what we do. Both intimidating to most people."

"You, intimidating?"

"Kiana the R&B diva superstar who sells out stadiums and whose albums go double platinum? Yes, Goliath, people find me intimidating. Shawn was the only guy who'd date me," she says with a wry laugh. "Every other guy was starstruck. But Shawn was hardly impressed."

…because he was jealous of you.

"That's true," I admit. "We do have that in common. Most people cower in fear when I growl at them. You stand your ground."

"You look scarier than you are, Goliath."

We lock eyes as we both go for another long drink of our respective champagne bottles.

Kiana blinks, looking away first. She pops up to her feet and wanders over to the TV.

"Want to watch a movie? If I can figure out how to work this remote."

"I want some of this food. We've got five whole carts to get through."

"Our own private buffet," she says with a snigger. "Make me a plate."

I've got no idea why I can't turn her down. Why the word no feels so impossible with her when it never has for anybody else.

Setting down my bottle of champagne, I grab two plates and begin piling things onto each one. Biscuits, sirloin steak, risotto, tuna tartare. Once I'm done, both plates have the most random assortment of food imaginable.

Kiana jumps in excitement anyway, thanking me for hers. We settle on the sofa that's situated in the living area of the suite as the opening credits start.

"What movie is this?"

"I wanted to torture you," she says, nudging her shoulder with mine. "I put on Titanic ."

I raise a thick brow at her. "So you want me here all night is what you're saying."

"It's only three hours!"

"Pace yourself, princess. You're already halfway through that bottle of Cristal."

"I can handle my champagne."

As if to prove my point, she reaches for her bottle and sucks down another mouthful.

I smirk, shaking my head to myself, cursing the day I accepted this contract. Though it's not for the initial reason I thought it would be. It's because, try as I might to keep things professional, it's damn near impossible.

She's too infectious.

Keeping things strictly work-related is a losing battle.

The movie starts on the television screen and we're sitting side by side with our large plates of food and half-finished bottles of Cristal. I'm digging into the slices of pot roast on my plate when I sense her sneaky little stare. The instant I look over at her, she's staring straight ahead again as if she's been paying attention to the movie the whole time.

But the smirk tugging at the corners of her full mouth tell on her.

For the first hour and a half of the movie, as Jack draws Rose like one of his French girls, she's playful. She cuts me the occasional furtive glance only to pretend she hasn't when I look over at her.

I finally call her out as Jack and Rose get busy in a fogged-up car.

"Anything on your mind, princess?" I ask.

"Shhh, the movie's getting good. They're about to hit the iceberg."

"And yet you're paying more attention to me."

She giggles. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

I realize it's the champagne already having an effect on her. It's no wonder when she's drank more than half a damn bottle in about an hour.

Now, as we try to sit and watch a movie, she's smirking, sneaking me glances, and barely touching her food.

"Princess, you've got to eat something," I say, forgetting about my own food.

She sets her plate down and stretches out beside me on the sofa. Her thick robe might swallow her up, but it still doesn't do enough to disguise the fact that she's got a delectable body hidden underneath. The collar of the robe slips open, falling down her shoulder, offering a tantalizing sneak peek of her smooth brown skin.

"Princess…" I growl.

She smirks at me, eyes bright. "I'm ready for dessert."

The silky way she utters the words heats my skin. It makes me acutely aware of the fact that we're alone in her suite and she doesn't seem to have much on under that robe. I swallow against the pulse of arousal throbbing in my neck and set my plate down like she did hers, on the coffee table in front of us.

"What kind of dessert, princess?"

"Surprise me."

She's beautiful and playful as she lays across the sofa. More of the robe slips by the wayside, this time revealing her supple bare thighs.

And her cute, manicured feet that she kicks up on the sofa cushions.

I'm not a feet guy.

Far from it.

But, damn, if Kiana doesn't have the nicest feet I've ever seen. The second she's setting them up on the sofa, I'm ready to take them in my hands and give her a massage. I'm ready to kiss my way up the rest of her body 'til I'm feeling those plump lips against mine.

I get up off the sofa and go to the five carts of room service arranged against the wall. She said to surprise her with dessert so that's exactly what I'm going to do.

"Close your eyes, princess."

She hums in answer but does as she's told. The playful air about her dissolves for naked curiosity. Her expression shifts with a knit of her brows and a slight dip to her mouth. I scoop up a spoonful of the dessert I've grabbed and tell her to open up.

"Part your lips. Tell me how you like it."

First, she licks her lips as if unable to resist the urge. Her tongue slips out, then swipes along the curve of her bottom lip, so damn naturally sexy, before she parts for me.

I feed her the spoonful of dessert, taking my time, going slow, being teasing and gentle.

"That taste good?"

"Mmmm." She licks her lips again, the taste a sugary mystery on her tongue. "More."

"How about a please?"

"Tyson…" she whines.

I can't resist. I grip her chin and almost… almost plant a kiss on her lips. Instead, I let my thumb run across her bottom lip and say, "I said say please, princess. Ask nicely."

"Pretty please with sprinkles and chocolate fudge and little freaking nuts on top," she snaps impatiently.

"Don't forget the cherry."

"Especially the cherry," she murmurs sexily.

Fuck. This is trouble. This is a bad idea.

Yet I keep going. I scoop up another spoonful to feed her. "Tell me what it is."

She rolls her lips between her teeth like she's trying to taste as much of the dessert as possible.

"Brown sugar," she answers, and I grin. "And some kind of crumble. And some kind of fruit. A berry."

"Close."

"Please give me more." She puts on a pouty face that makes me chuckle, her eyes still closed.

"Who would've thought I like it so much when you beg, princess?"

I feed her a couple more spoonfuls of the warm, gooey, sugary dessert, much to her delight. Another chuckle leaves me at the piece of crumble at the corner of her lip. My pulse beats faster, the temptation to lick it off unbearably high.

Fuck it.

Do it.

Lines have already been crossed…

"My turn," I say throatily. I grab her chin and swipe my tongue at the corner of her mouth.

I intend on pulling back, forcefully restraining myself no matter how much I want her, but I'm not the only one seeking a taste of something I shouldn't be.

As I go to pull back, Kiana leans into me. She swoops in and smashes her lips against mine in a passionate kiss.