Chapter Six

Xavier

We are on the top floor of Olympus. Like Empire, it is also on two floors except that it has a wraparound sealed mirrored gallery where the dance floor can be seen from the top but those on the floor would only see mirrors looking up. One section of the VIP lounge is a completely sound-proofed strip club.

Now and then, I catch myself looking down at the dance floor. It’s been a week, and I still pause every time I see a flash of blonde hair. It confuses and annoys the hell out of me.

I never care to see women I hook up with ever again. Certainly not women who disappear on me. Like Brooke Lewis.

I almost got someone to find her in the first couple of days, but I hoped my little obsession would clear up if I gave it a few more. I avoided going to Empire, but my nights were plagued by dreams of her.

When I find myself scanning the dance floor again, it occurs to me again that I have her full name and where she works. I can find out everything about her in less than an hour .

But maybe I shouldn’t.

Perhaps my obsession with this Brooke is a red flag. I’ve never been this interested in someone I’ve already slept with. Even my momentary obsession with Vanessa ended when I slept with her. But Brooke is not out of my system. For the second time tonight, I tell myself I need to get laid. Fast.

I’m pulled out of my musings when everyone lifts their champagne glasses in the air. Lee declares, “To Xavier, the fucker who makes us all look like we are not doing enough.”

Everyone laughs.

“Cheers,” everyone choruses.

“Seriously, congratulations, bro.” Lee is tapping my shoulder.

“Thanks, man.”

In another hour, the celebration is in full swing. The music has been turned up loud and strobe lights are flashing as our party gets rowdier.

I’m not sure where from, but Ryan has somehow injected what looks like twenty or so models, male and female, as well as a few strippers straight into our party, and Wyatt is coordinating what looks like a game of dares. The rest are cheering him on. A beautiful blonde model sits on my lap, feeding me olives as she writhes against me. My hand is high on her thigh, stroking the velvety skin.

Vanessa is in another section making out with some guy, and by the way she’s constantly looking over at me, I hope to God she’s not doing it to make me jealous. I feel sorry for her, knowing it might have something to do with the look she caught on my face earlier tonight. I’m usually not one for sending mixed signals .

The woman on my lap leans over and starts kissing my neck. I grab a handful of her hair and kiss her fully, thrusting my tongue into her mouth. Her hands snake down toward my cock. Which isn’t the least bit hard.

Interesting.

She continues to stroke me eagerly as I kiss a path to her earlobe, all the while thinking she smells wrong. I freeze as the realization hits me like a bucket of ice water.

Smells wrong?

I pull back and look at the girl. My mind supplies everything else that’s wrong in quick succession. Her ass doesn’t fill my hands. Her eyes are not stormy gray. She doesn’t have a birthmark on the side of her mouth. Her lips are not full and pouty.

She doesn’t moan into my mouth when I kiss her.

What the fuck? It’s official, I’m fucked.

“I’m sorry,” I say, lifting her and seating her gently on the couch. “I have to go.”

“What’s the matter?” she asks, deflated.

“Nothing, darling.” Every-fucking-thing “Stay and have fun, I need to leave.”

I approach the boys on my way out.

One of the strippers is still on their table and Ryan is about to take a shot while Lee, Wyatt, and the others cheer him on. I know Ryan is well past drunk because sober, you couldn’t get him to drink from the same cup as anyone, let alone take a shot from a stripper’s belly button.

“Great, right?” Wyatt asks him after he’s slurped it.

“Awesome.” Ryan agrees with a goofy smile, his eyes bright.

I look at my phone. It’s 2:04 a.m.

“I have to leave,” I tell them.

“But we just got here,” Lee protests .

“We got here three hours ago, Lee.”

“Really? Has it already been that long?”

“Yes,” I say. “I have Lisa tomorrow. Zoey will kill me if I get home at five in the morning.”

“Bye, Xaviboy,” Ryan says cheerfully, taking a swig of another drink.

I collect Vanessa, who has no qualms about ditching the random guy she was with when I offer to take her home. Whatever hopes she had of anything happening shrivels and dies the moment we get into the limousine and she notices my dark mood.

I’m seething. Not at Vanessa. At myself. And her.

I wake to the sounds of tiny feet. Lisa’s here , I think. Since she figured out how to work the elevator, she comes and goes as she pleases. Which reminds me again, I need to set a password on the elevator.

As much as I adore Lisa, my home isn’t exactly a place a five-year-old should come running to at odd hours because of my predilection for being unclothed. I hear her little feet run toward her room, and I throw the covers off, pulling on sweatpants and a T-shirt.

I hear another voice that makes me pause. It’s not Zoey. The voice calls out again, and I’m out of my room in a flash.

I descend the curving stairs leading from the mezzanine into the living room and my feet come to a halt when I see the woman standing by the east side glass wall looking at the view of the Hudson River. My bare feet are soundless but perhaps it is because the roaring in my head has drowned them out.

It couldn’t be.

I take in the mass of ash-blonde hair piled atop her head to the graceful line of her neck. She’s wearing a pink cotton shirt tucked into calf-length jeans and sketchers. Simple clothes that she manages to make look downright obscene with that… ass.

Fuck, I’m hard.

Because there stands the object of my obsession. She’s returned as suddenly as she left. And in my living room.

What the hell kind of game is she playing?

I walk toward her slowly, my bare feet soundless on the warm marble floor. “Brooke?” I say softly.

She jumps and whirls around in shock. Which freezes on her face when she sees me. She pales, then blushes furiously as she recognizes me.

“Wha—Xavier…” she squeaks. “Um.” She tries again, clearing her throat, then it dawns on her. “Oh my God! You live here.” It’s a statement rather than a question.

“I didn’t know.” She tries to meet my level stare. And fails.

“Are you sure about that?” I say coldly, folding my arms across my chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How did you get here? Who let you in?”

“Dan and Zoey, I’m here for Lisa. I’m filling in for her nanny.”

What were the odds of that? She came to my nightclub last week and all of a sudden she’s wormed her way into my sister’s home.

“Oh, you’re a nanny now?” I can’t keep the sarcasm from my voice. “I thought you worked in an elementary school.”

“Yes, well, I thought you were into real estate,” she shoots back .

“Okay, so what is this then? You found out I downplayed who I am and thought to track me down through my sister to get—”

“I do not want your money!” she says hotly.

“Good of you to clear that up. You should also know I don’t do repeat fucks. Ever.”

She rears back as if I’d slapped her. She takes a breath, and when she meets my eyes, hers are filled with a cold indifference. “Don’t even flatter yourself, Xavier. You’re the last person I want to be with.”

That rankles.

I step closer to her, invading her personal space. She looks away and takes a step back. I want her eyes back on me. Those gray eyes I can read so clearly. Her eyes never lie. I follow her until her back hits the glass wall.

She doesn’t meet my eyes still; she turns her head to the side instead, which exposes her neck to me. I see the fluttering pulse point and catch a whiff of her rich, warm scent. Desire surges through me. Christ, that smell …

“I don’t know,” I murmur into her neck, “somehow, I didn’t get that impression last week. Quite the opposite actually, when—”

“Uncle Xavi!”

Lisa runs out of her room toward us. I step back from Brooke, and I catch Lisa in my arms.

“Morning, buttercup.” I give her a hug.

“Mommy says I’m getting a new babysitter because I made Coral cry.” She puts her face into my neck. “I have to be nice now.”

Brooke says in a soothing voice, “I’m sure you didn’t mean to do it, dear. ”

Lisa turns to look at Brooke as if just noticing her standing there. She studies Brooke for a long minute.

“Are you my new babysitter?”

“Yes, Lisa, my name is Brooke.”

Lisa looks at Brooke’s hair. “I like your hair. Can you make my hair like yours?”

“Sure thing, and maybe we can even dress you like a princess too.”

“Kay.” She bobs her head enthusiastically. “But I have to be a queen. I already have many princesses.”

Lisa reaches out and Brooke takes her from me, her forearm accidentally brushing against mine in the process. I feel a crackle of electricity down my arm and my dick throbs.

Get it together, Bennett.

Lisa continues to chatter excitedly, bouncing off Brooke’s hips as they leave the foyer. “We’ll throw a ball for all the princesses, and they can all dress pretty…”

Brooke doesn’t spare me a backward glance, not even turning when she gets into the elevator, but my eyes are glued to her retreating back. It occurs to me that Lisa has never taken to anyone that fast. But more to the point, Brooke Lewis is actually here. In my house. Working for my family. I look down at my raging erection, evident through my sweatpants.

I need to better control myself around that woman.