Twisted, p.19
Twisted, page 19
Jian paced as he talked on his cell phone, speaking to people in at least three rapid-fire languages that Colleen could discern.
Within an hour, a woman arrived bearing a heavy garment bag. She whipped a golden silk waterfall of a dress out of the luggage, and Jian was ushered from the room while the woman stuffed Colleen into it and then pinned and chalked the fabric.
The garment bag was marked with round art deco letters that read Dolce & Gabbana, which meant nothing to Colleen.
The woman whipped the dress off Colleen like a magician flicking a tablecloth out from under a china set and went to work in a corner of the living room with shears and needles, leaving Colleen to breathe for a while.
After another check-in with Anjali, who texted back, hint-phone-number-hint, Colleen sidled up to Jian, who was sitting at the living room desk that overlooked the pounding surf of the Pacific Ocean and making businesslike notes on a sheet of hotel stationery.
She said, “I have an odd question to ask you. Please don’t be offended, and you can tell me to go to hell if you want.”
Jian did not look up from his work. “I am Chinese. I was born in Malaysia, and my parents still live there. They are very traditional. I am not. No, I don’t get homesick. I speak English, French, Malay, and Mandarin and have studied hospitality management and Krav Maga. Yes, I enjoy traveling and working with wealthy people. Sagittarius.”
Colleen couldn’t repress a smile at his spiel. “That’s not what I meant.”
Jian swiveled and looked up at her, one neatly groomed eyebrow raised. “Mr. King seems to have taken a personal interest in you. Naturally, as a personal assistant, I would not interrupt my employer’s pursuits.”
Yeah, he had. “Oh, no, not for me. I’m not interested in anybody. I have zero interest in everyone. But my friend saw you at the airport, and she’s a nice person. I mean, Anjali is great. I just love her. She’s the greatest, nicest person ever. So if you are interested in meeting her or talking to her, I can give her your phone number, or I could give hers to you. If you’re into girls. If you’re not, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Or even if you are interested in girls. Sorry, I mean. I’m sorry.”
Jian raised both his eyebrows.
Colleen grumbled, “I feel like I’m in junior high, telling someone to check a box if they like my friend.”
For the first time, a full smile bent Jian’s mouth and lifted the corners. “Is this the Southeast Asian girl who drove you to the airport?”
“Yeah.”
“The one with the long hair that fell past her waist?”
“Yep, that’s Anjali. It actually goes down almost to her knees.”
One of his eyebrows quivered, almost lifting. “Do you think she would prefer if I gave you my phone number for her, or if you gave me her phone number?”
Colleen sighed and chuckled in relief. “She asked for your phone number, but I would bet that she would prefer if you texted her first. Just a word of warning, she’s old-fashioned in a lot of ways. Which is why I think she might like it if you asked her out first or contacted her first or however this is going to work. I mean, I don’t even know when you guys would ever see each other because she’s in college. She was a year behind me, so she’s graduating this August. She wanted to take a summer class before she officially graduated because she has a huge scholarship that pays for everything.”
Jian nodded and pushed a piece of paper toward Colleen. “If you could write her number down for me, I would appreciate it.”
Colleen grinned. “Cool!”
Half an hour later, another woman arrived, rolling a large makeup kit behind her, and she commandeered the bathroom to do Colleen’s hair and makeup while the seamstress finished tailoring the dress.
The hairdresser stood behind Colleen, yanking her basic brown hair into place and tying it off with tight elastics, when Colleen’s phone chimed. A pang of guilt bumped her even though she had been notifying Anjali practically every hour, on the hour, as to her location.
But the chime wasn’t for a text. It was for a Sherwood Forum direct message, and her cringe turned to a blush when she saw the name on the phone read Twist the TwistyTrader.
Memories of the Devilhouse rolled back, and her skin tickled at the thought of his hands and his tongue on her.
How are you? he DM’d.
Colleen swiped her thumb over the screen without wiggling as best she could. I’m doing okay.
Are you alone?
No. There’s someone here with me.
Go somewhere private.
Embarrassment flushed through her and heated her face. I don’t know if I can.
I said, go somewhere private.
Colleen swallowed her trepidation and looked up as if she could see over her scalp and behind herself at the lady doing her hair. The bathroom ceiling was painted pristine white, and the space was larger than her studio apartment back in Phoenix. The gold marble tub was so big that she could have floated in a bath like a starfish bobbing on waves. I really can’t, but we should talk.
Twist typed, Yes, we should talk. Perhaps we could do a short voice call.
I really can’t right now, Twist. Maybe tomorrow? I’m really sorry, um, sir, but I can’t talk to you right now or tonight. My new job has me really busy.
Oh, she felt terrible about that.
And yet, she shouldn’t feel bad about it. Tristan King didn’t own her. He didn’t have exclusive rights to her body just because they’d boinked once. Boinking wasn’t a commitment.
She typed, But yeah, I need to talk to you, too.
Two hours later, the lady had finished doing Colleen’s hair and makeup so exquisitely that Colleen barely recognized herself in the mirror, her eyes large and doe-like and her lips a puffy Cupid’s bow. The lady had even shaped and painted Colleen’s nails.
A short time later, Colleen had been crowbarred into the gold dress, and she stood in the living room with her hands outstretched, afraid to move lest she wrinkle or smudge herself.
Jian Laio had inspected her, grinned a conspiratorial smile and winked, and left the suite.
Tristan emerged from one of the bedrooms, wearing a different, darker suit. He glanced at her and said gruffly, “You look amazing,” and looked away, almost scowling.
Colleen set her fists on her hips. Damn the wrinkles. “Is there a problem?”
He didn’t look up, just continued to scroll on his phone. “No.”
While they were on the subject of crap he was doing wrong, she might as well go whole hog. “And what was that crack about me being an easy lay at the meeting? I am not. I hate slut-shaming.”
He cracked a half-smile. “It was just an attempt to allow you to leave the meeting and get away to somewhere safe.”
“Women can’t win. If we want it, we’re an easy lay. And if we don’t, we’re a stuck-up prude. That was uncalled for.”
He swiped his phone with his thumb and then slid it into his pants pocket. “I agree.”
“Even if you were just trying to get me out of there, I didn’t like it.”
“I apologize.”
“And just to be clear, that was the only time you get to call me an easy lay. I’m not an easy lay unless I want to be.”
“Message received.”
In that instant, when irritation itched over Colleen’s shoulders and she was simultaneously trying to figure out what was wrong with her dress or hair, she noticed that Tristan was wearing a three-piece suit, the vest snug over his trim waist and broad chest underneath his suit jacket.
The back of the vest and the lining of his suit jacket were probably a contrasting color, maybe scarlet, but she bet they would all match.
When he turned, a peacock blue pocket square was folded into a slim line in his breast pocket.
Maybe the lining and back of his vest matched the blue.
Just remembering Twist’s vest he’d worn at the Devilhouse, she kind of wanted to see Tristan’s.
Not that she was comparing the two of them. Not that there was any reason she should compare Tristan King with TwistyTrader.
Not everything in life should even be a dang competition.
Tristan was there, and he was hot and available, and he’d asked her to travel with him, even though it had started as him accidentally getting her fired. But then it had turned into something else, right?
And it wasn’t just convenience on his part, right? she begged herself in her head.
But if there wasn’t something so freakishly hot about Twist, then she should’ve just sent him a message like We shouldn’t message each other anymore or something.
But she hadn’t.
And she was kind of freaked out about how she was drawing it out with Twist, like she didn’t want to let him go.
Especially when Tristan King was right there, and yet he was acting weird.
Did he not appreciate the time and effort that had been put into this dress? That was practically an insult to the hard work of the tailor and hairdresser/makeup artist. “We’re alone now, and you haven’t said anything.”
Tristan grabbed his wallet from the table and held out his coat to insert it into the inside pocket next to his chest.
The lining inside was the same peacock blue as his pocket square.
All three-piece suits must be like that. But of course, most guys would strategically match their pocket square and socks to the linings of their suits.
Tristan didn’t look up at her as he said, “I was just reminding myself that you are my employee now, and it’s official since you signed that contract an hour ago. As much as you look stunning in that dress,” his voice lowered, “and I do mean absolutely ravishing—”
Okay, that was better.
He looked right at her, “—we are not on a date tonight. We are meeting with members of the Russian mafia who might induct us, kill us, or possibly write us off as useless and forget about us, if I play my cards right.”
Us. He kept saying us.
Colleen was the weak link here. They were using her to get to him.
Tristan King could disappear if he wanted to, thanks to his algorithm that wiped the internet of his very existence.
She said, “Look, Tristan, Mr. King, if you see a chance to get yourself out of the situation, no matter what the consequences are for me, you should take it. Like he said, they can come for me whenever they want. There’s no real way I can escape them. I’m a lost cause.”
“I will get us both out of this.”
She sighed because the truth was humiliating. “You don’t have to pretend like I’m important to you. I’m just some dropout sales clerk that you felt sorry for, and I’m just an easy lay.”
Tristan looked up from where he was fastening his cufflinks. His bright blue eyes narrowed with anger, and he strode across the room like he was about to attack her.
Colleen stepped backward, and her heel scraped the wall behind her.
But he still advanced on her, his eyes furious.
16
A Celebration
Tristan
“What did you say to me?” Tristan walked toward her, covering the carpet with long strides.
Colleen’s fawn-like eyes widened as she backed away from him and held her hands up in front of her chest with her fingers splayed. “I’m just saying that you shouldn’t drag yourself down with me if there’s no way I can get out of this. If you can make them let you go, you should.”
“I would never leave you behind.” He loomed over her, staring down at the wisp of a woman who had plastered herself to the hotel room wall. He braced himself with one arm above her head and leaned down to get right in her face when he said, “I protect what’s mine.”
Anger set her jaw. “I’m not yours. I’m just a chick you picked up after you got her fired and felt guilty about it.”
Jesus, that wasn’t what he’d meant, probably. “You’re my responsibility,” he growled.
She frowned right back up at him. “Dude, I am no one’s responsibility.”
“Yes, you are, and I don’t back down from my responsibilities. I will protect you, and I will make sure you get home safely with no strings attached.”
Tears glistened on the lower lids of her eyes. “I’m not worth the trouble you’ll get into. I’m nothing to you. I’m nothing to anybody. I’m just an out-of-work sales clerk and college dropout. If I die, no one would give a shit or even notice I was gone.”
Tristan wanted to punch whoever had put that thought into her head. “You’re nothing to me? I’ve been practically tying my hands behind my back and grinding my teeth on a strip of leather every time I’m around you to stop myself from taking you to bed, especially after last night. Every time you move next to me, every time your clothes rustle, I remember the scent of your skin and how you taste on my tongue. You’re kind and beautiful and sexy, but I hadn’t realized how hot you were until you walked into the living room in this dress. But even so, I’ve been plotting how to get you into bed ever since I saw you in that game store. When you walked into my room last night, I was freaking ecstatic.”
Colleen was blinking rapidly as he spoke.
But she nodded.
A scent of baking sugar and flowers emanated from her skin, and he wanted to bury his face in her throat to breathe it in. “My plan for this trip was to dress you like this every night and wine and dine you.” He allowed himself to examine the way the golden silk clung to her voluptuous breasts and dipped into her curvaceous waist and hips that he wanted to dig his fingers into. “I’d planned to take you to movie premieres and exclusive restaurants and charity balls, not rescue you from some damn Russian mobster.”
She nodded again.
He reached for the glimmer of hope in this darkness. “I wanted to show you the world, not threaten your life.”
She was almost panting, her breasts straining at the silk of her dress, and puffs of her delicate breath fluttered over his lips, which were only inches from hers.
His voice dropped to a growl. “If I get us out of this, when I get us out of this, I will dance with you in the palace of the Prince of Monaco and sit beside you as we watch ballets and operas from box seats and rock concerts from backstage. We’ll walk the streets of Paris and ride the gondolas in Venice, and then I’ll take you back to my penthouse at the Waldorf-Astoria or my yacht in Monaco and fuck you senseless.”
Her eyes half-closed, and he knew she must be imagining their bodies connecting and moving as intensely as he was, and the fantasy of his body thrusting into hers propelled him forward to capture her lips with his mouth.
She was petal soft and tangerine sweet under his lips.
His other arm snaked around the plushness of her body and dragged her against him.
Her lips fluttered open, and he tasted the freshness of her tongue on his.
Her body twined against his, and his thighs and chest knew the yielding softness of her.
And Tristan caught fire.
The rushing blood that had been anger that she would think for even a moment that he would leave her, that he would sacrifice her and save his own skin, turned to desire in his flesh. He wanted to grab his dick out of his pants, toss her silk skirt aside or rip it off her, and pin her to that wall like a golden butterfly whilst he fucked her.
He needed to at least touch her, to run his thumb through her folds and press her clit until she was gasping but not over. Her soft mews would suffice until they were somewhere safe and private where he could make her scream for him. So he bent and caught the hem of her skirt and ran his hand up her soft, bare thigh, gripping her just enough to confuse her, until his fingers reached soft, stretchy lace. “What the hell is this?”
“Um, underwear?” she whispered.
He grabbed the soft fabric in his fist and yanked hard, ripping them off her. “I told you no panties.”
“I didn’t think you meant it,” Colleen said, blinking her eyes in astonishment.
He slid one finger up her thigh and straight inside her center, already slippery for him. He pumped it, his thumb rough on her clit, while her eyes closed and she bit her lip. “I want to be able to do this to you any time I feel like it. I want to throw you on a table and lick this every single time the urge takes me. And I want to take you up against a wall or over a table or drag you on top of me in the back seat of a car whenever I want. Do you understand?”
She nodded, the little lines between her eyebrows clenching, and her core tightening around his finger.
So he stopped.
And pulled away.
“Not when you’ve been naughty,” he said.
Colleen flopped forward, bracing herself on her knees while she gasped.
His watch chimed that the time was two minutes before eight. They couldn’t keep the Russian mobsters waiting.
Tristan kissed her anyway, his tongue penetrating her mouth the way he wanted to press into her with his body, and then he broke off the kiss, certain that his lust, practically rage-lust, shone in his eyes as he glared at her. “Tonight. After I take care of these damned Russian criminals and pry us both out of this dilemma, I’ll have you, tonight. Last night, I was gentle because it was our first time. If you think I don’t want you, I’ll make you understand how much I do tonight.”
Colleen’s eyes were glazed like she’d been drinking, and her lips were still parted.
He cleaned up a smear of lipstick from the side of her mouth with his thumb and whispered, “You are important to me. At first, you were just cute, but now I like you. I like the way you make little mewing sounds when you’re about to come, and I like the way you sucked on those strawberries this morning like they were my cock. I want you to sit at my feet and hold onto my leg like I’m your everything because you already are mine. I like everything about you, but it’s time to go. The car is waiting.”
The elevator ride down the hotel was torture with that succulent woman standing so close to him and his dick swollen so hard it ached. He thought about every atrocity he could remember and all the times he’d wanted to punch a guy, trying to divert the blood from his trousers.
