Danny (Models On Top #1) (30 page)

“I won’t go,” I state, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Get your dancing shoes on. I hear tonight’s gala will have a large dance floor and live band.”

“I’m not going, Keaton. I’ve got no business there so that makes it null and void.”

He stands, leaning his hands on the desk dividing us. “Let me tell you a little bit about null and void. Your plaything is in breach of contract, so all bets are off and we will fight a more civilized battle through our lawyers.” He picks up a file and drops it in front of me. “Make sure to read the fine print. Especially the part about him not fraternizing with anyone employed by Klein Advertising. Not to mention your personal violation of our code of conduct.”

My anger gets the best of me. “I think you’re overlooking the fact that you’re in violation as well. I guess I should file a report with HR.”

“Klein has never disallowed employees to date each other. We just ask that it doesn’t affect the performance of your job.”

“Cut the bullshit, Keaton. What are you saying?”

He looks pleased with himself as he takes the file back. “I’m saying you’ll stop seeing the model immediately. As for work, you will not see him unless another member our team or Vittori’s team is with you.”

“I recognize a threat even when it’s delivered with a smile, so what’s the or?”

“Or we sue him for breach of contract. So how rich is your pretty boy?”

“This is a personal vendetta. Keep the focus on me and my job performance—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be keeping a close eye on your
job
performance. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a conference call with my lawyers.”

“You’re the biggest mistake I ever made, Keaton.” As soon as I say it I know it’s a lie. I know what my biggest mistake is and I refuse to make it twice.

“That’s fine. You can hate me all you want, but as long as you’re employed here, you’ll respect me and our code of conduct.” He looks down, dismissing me by waving me off.

I hate him. I do. So much. I walk to the door, but before I can open the door, I hear, “Reese?”

Stopping, I slowly turn around. With my hand on my hip, I wait for him to speak. He says, “Wear the Louboutins. They were always my favorite.”

The bastard.
“You bought those for the whore you were fucking on the side. You always bought me Manolos.” He’s a despicable man, and if I wasn’t already so angry at him, the sting from finding out he was cheating on me would cause my blood to boil. He humiliated me with a Louboutin-wearing whore who he paraded to the ballet while taking me to the opera the next night. New York societal circles are small. I turn on my Pradas and he’s smart enough to let that lie. When I exit his office, I shut the door and exhale an anxious breath. I walk with purpose back to my desk, his warning and the invitation playing on a loop.

Even with the threats toward my job, my career, my life in general, I can think of only one thing… or one person to be precise.

Danny.

AS SOON AS
I get back to the room, I get out of my clothes and take a hot shower. A night of sex and a morning of walking around the city aren’t doing me any favors.

My skin feels raw from last night. It’s a feeling I’ve missed, and one that takes my mind back to another time in life.

Reese.

I climb into bed naked. Call it wishful thinking, but after making up with Reese, my bets are on a sure thing. I want to be ready when she comes over.

Closing my eyes, I feel content, another sensation I haven’t felt since being with her. I just never recognized it until now. Even in the dark of this hotel room, I smile, the emotion too strong to stop myself. I exhale, long and hard, the crazy of the last twenty-four hours released and I fall asleep shortly after.

HOPING FOR MORE
sleep, my eyes remain closed. Muscles tired. Head groggy. The room is black from the window coverings, so I have no concept of how much time has passed. Sporting wood, my cock is even confused to the hour. Rubbing it to calm it down, I realize this will only make matters harder.
Like steel.
Especially when the brunette with blue eyes comes to mind.

I throw the covers off and go take a piss. I’m about to climb back in bed when I catch a glimpse of the clock. 5:03. I struggle to register if it’s a.m. or p.m. When I do, I grab my phone off the nightstand and sit on the edge of the bed. Fuck! p.m.

There are plenty of missed texts, a batch of new emails, but no missed calls.
Where is Reese?
I thought I’d hear from her, but it’s almost dinnertime and I haven’t. I call her, worried. When she doesn’t answer, I leave a message, “Gimme a call when you get this.”

Needing to get up before my days and nights are completely screwed up, I shift and open the blinds with the remote. Then dig through my suitcase for clean clothes. I pull on jeans, going commando underneath, after putting on a T-shirt. I walk to the window and look around outside. Something’s wrong.

Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I text her:
Where are you?

Trying to not stress about her, I sit down and start going through my emails. But I worry about what’s going on. When she left this morning, we were good. More than good. We were solid. We had said things we hadn’t said and it felt good to get it off my chest and hear her side. I wanted to tell her more. I wanted to talk about that fateful last night. Leaving me there, knowing I was going to ask her to marry me was not humiliating. It was hurtful. I need to put it to bed by finding out why she stood me up. It’s the past that haunts me the most.

I look at the face of my phone again. No response to my text. I grab my hat and slip on my shoes. Before I leave the room, I put on my jacket. Downstairs in the lobby, I call her once more, but it goes to voicemail.

Outside on the sidewalk, I’m not sure where I’m going, but I couldn’t sit inside that room any longer. The walls were closing in, the lack of Reese taunting me. I stand where I last saw her, having a good mind to go to her work. But I don’t want to make things worse for her. Her job is important and I can respect that. What I can’t respect is that douchebag ex. I can only imagine how he’s going to lash out at her.

I mean, I don’t fully blame him. If I was in his shoes, I’d be angry finding my girlfriend fucking some hot, extremely sexy, eight-pack-abs stud too. But I’ve never felt that strongly about a woman, except for one. The same one as him. Fuck. What lengths is he willing to go to get her back? Or more specifically, what lengths has he gone to already to get her back?

Shit.

My fingers are flying over the keyboard:
Call me back.

I start walking, my pace quick considering I don’t know where to go. After covering five or so blocks and still no call or text, I take matters into my own hands. The receptionist answers, “Klein Advertising.”

“Reese Carmichael.”

“I’m sorry, sir, she’s gone for the day. I can redirect you to her voicemail.”

“What time did she leave?”

“She was working away from the office most of today. She left before lunch to meet with clients. Would you like her voicemail?” She sounds anxious.

When I check my Fitbit, it’s 5:56. She’s probably trying to leave. “No, thank you.” Just as I’m about to hang up, my gut guides me elsewhere and I do something I never do. I drop my name, using it for leverage. “Wait, this is Danny Weston.” I pause to let it sink in.

It’s obvious when it does. The anxiety heard earlier disappears, a purr in her tone is heard. “Well hello, Danny Weston. The supermodel?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes.”

“How may I assist you?”

“Is Keaton Klein available?”

“No,” she answers casually. “He had an event to attend tonight.”

“An event?”

“Yes, Klein Advertising is a large contributor to the Colon Cancer Foundation. They’re having their annual fundraiser tonight,” she replies proudly, then just above a whisper, she gives more than expected, “Ms. Carmichael is scheduled to attend as well. I have a spare ticket if you’d like to go with me as my plus one?”

Tempting. Very tempting if I can see Reese. If she shows. But something I learned a few years back is my name alone opens doors. “Thank you. I have something to do, but I might stop by.”

“My name’s Amanda.”

“Thanks, Amanda.”

“You’re welcome.”

I hang up and sit on a bench nearby. I need to think. This is when I appreciate the time difference between LA and New York. I make a call.

“Mark Warrant’s office. This is Jody.”

“Jods, this is Danny. I need you to do me a favor.”

STANDING JUST INSIDE
the doors of the ballroom, I adjust one cufflink, then the other while scanning the opulent surroundings of the historic hotel.

I walk around the back of the room, trying to blend in while I look for Reese. She’s gone cell phone silent on me, which is entirely unacceptable. Sticking to the darker outskirts of the gala, I keep my eyes focused. I haven’t seen her yet, but I know she’s here. I feel it deep inside.

Suddenly feeling like a creeper, I head to the bar and order my standard. With a fresh drink in hand, I work my way out of the crowd and toward the dance floor for a better view. But I stop in my tracks when I see her. It’s almost shocking I missed her before—red floor-length gown, slit up the front showing off her incredible legs, black heels, hair up. Her lips are red to match the dress. Her eyes stand out, her smile entrancing.

She amazes me. How she manages to look more beautiful every time I see her is beyond me—bewilders me—but she does. My heart is pounding in my chest from the very sight of her.

My drink is forgotten on a table as I pass, heading straight for her. She’s got an audience when I approach. Cutting in, I offer my hand. “May I have this dance?”

The look in her eyes says more than she’ll allow her expression to reveal. But it’s me and her, and she smiles as she accepts the offer. “I’d love to.”

I lead her silently to the middle of the dance floor and take her right hand in mine. It’s not the two-step, but I’m a man of many talents. I come replete with many dance moves, including the box step. I think I just won a few points with her. Her smile is contagious, but my heart feels the distance she’s keeping. “I’m not going to let you disappear again. Not without a proper chase. Is that what you’re wanting? You want me to chase you?”

“Danny, I don’t want you to think you have to chase me. You don’t. I want to be with you in whatever way I can be.”

“In whatever way? Hmm.” I look up and quickly gather my thoughts. “So if I chase you, will you believe in my intentions?”

“What are your intentions?”

“I intend to keep you sexually satisfied and blissfully happy.”

“That’s a tall order.”

“Is it?”

“I have no doubt you,” she says, clearing her throat right after, “can back up such lofty claims, but our problems never involved your ability to satisfy me sexually.” She looks up, the pink from her cheeks fading. “And I’m not playing a cat and mouse game with you.”

“Then why did you not come back? Why did I have to track you down at a black-tie affair?”