His Page 17

  “Shit. Andrew,” I say softly.

  “Oh, hell.” He turns me closer to him so my face is shielded and rushes me inside.

  “Fuck,” I say angrily when we’re past the line of photographers. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “No, I wasn’t thinking.” He takes out his phone and starts typing. “I’ll take care of this. Steve and his guys will come here and take care of this, okay?”

  “How? Did you see all those cameras?”

  “I’ll buy them.”

  I feel a ray of hope. “You can do that?”

  “I’ll put Steve on it, okay? Don’t worry. Let’s find someplace private so we can talk.”

  “Not here. I’m too worried about people standing around corners.”

  “Okay,” he says, glancing at the hotel’s long, dark reception desk. “So we’ll get a room.”

  “A room? Now?” I look from side to side to make sure no one’s within earshot. “People will think we’re going up there to screw.”

  Andrew arches his brows. “Not a man in this place will blame me when they see you.”

  I laugh, easing some of my built-up tension. “Flattery really will get you nowhere right now.”

  “I get it. The room’s just to talk.” He releases my hand. “Be right back.”

  How much do I want to tell him? While I watch him stride up to the front desk and see the woman working there blush at him like a schoolgirl, I realize Andrew doesn’t know where Bethy is or why I’m hiding her. He doesn’t know much about Bean, either. I trust Andrew with my life. But can I trust him with Bethy’s? If she’s not safe, there’s no happiness anywhere for me, with anyone. Not even Andrew.

  “Miss Jones,” a sharp female voice says beside me.

  I look over and see Gina, Andrew’s mother. Fuck. I am so not in the mood. She’s dressed to the nines in a navy gown, her silver hair framing her elegant face.

  “It’s Quinn.”

  “I see you still have my son’s eye.”

  “Apparently so.”

  “And what is he doing at the hotel desk? Is he getting a room?”

  I just sigh, hoping she’ll catch on to my annoyance and leave.

  “Oh, that’s rich,” she says sarcastically. “I knew this thing between you had to be all about sex, but—”

  “Fuck off,” I say, meeting her icy blue gaze.

  “Excuse me?”

  “There’s no excuse. You’re a rude bitch.”

  Her face contorts into an expression of disbelief. “Wow. You must really think you’ve got a hold on him, to speak that way to his mother.”

  “Treat me like shit, and I’ll treat you like shit right back.”

  “You’ve got quite a mouth on you, hmm?”

  “Nastiness comes in many forms, Mrs. Wentworth.”

  I look over at Andrew. He’s leaving the front desk and looking right at us.

  “Listen here, you gold-digging whore,” Gina says through clenched teeth. “My son is all I have. You may be able to manipulate him, but I see right through you.”

  “Mother,” Andrew says sharply, “what’s going on here?”

  “Just chatting with Quinn,” she says with a smile.

  “Uh, no. I’m not covering for you.” I reach for Andrew’s hand, squeezing it for strength. “She was just calling me a gold-digging whore.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Andrew says to her in a low tone. “You don’t even know her.”

  Gina raises her chin. “This isn’t the time or place for this conversation.”

  “There won’t be any more conversations between you and me until you’ve apologized to Quinn and you treat her appropriately.”

  Andrew turns and leads me away before Gina can get another word out.

  “I’m sorry,” he says to me as we cross the hotel’s marble-floored lobby.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I’m still sorry. I won’t allow her to overstep again.”

  I squeeze his hand. “Did you get a room?”

  “I did.”

  I sigh softly as we stop at the elevator, and Andrew pushes the button. The doors slide open, we step on, and as soon as they close, I turn to him.

  “I wasn’t very nice to her, either. I told her to fuck off.”

  His lips curve up in an amused smile. “Did you now? I don’t see that happening unless she asked for it.”

  “Yeah, she did.”

  “I know she can be . . . intense. She ran into me when I was out at dinner with a woman in college, and that’s the only other time she’s seen me with someone. Since I introduced you to her, she thinks we’re serious.”

  “Seriously crazy, maybe,” I say softly.

  The elevator doors open onto the fourteenth floor, and Andrew leads the way down the hall to our room.

  It’s a small room with a king-size bed. We walk in, and I give Andrew a dirty look.

  “What is this? It’s not even a suite. Are we peasants?”

  He’s taken aback for a second before I let out a nervous laugh.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Just a bad joke. You did not have to pay for this room just so we could talk.”

  He shrugs. “I only got it for an hour. I told the hotel staffer you want a nice ass-fucking before the fundraiser starts, and an hour’s good for that.”

  My mouth drops open in shock. “You . . . what?”

  “That was my bad joke, so now we’re even.” He winks and sits down on the bed. “Now come here and tell me what’s on your mind.”

  I sit down, my shoulders slumping forward. “I got a letter from Bethy. I don’t like some of the things she told me.”

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  I hesitate for a second. I trust Andrew. He’s proven to me many times that he’s on my side. And I really, truly want to talk to him about this.

  “She’s with Bean,” I say softly. “In . . . Mexico. They have a place, and he has a job. She’s getting tutored by someone there. But she said Bean’s been going to a bar after work to drink. And she’s cooking and cleaning and helping take care of the tutor’s kid . . . while I’m here.”

  I gesture at the extravagant gown I’m wearing.

  “You feel guilty,” he says.

  I nod. “Very. I took her away so I could take care of her, and I’m not. I’ve left her pretty much alone in a foreign country.”

  “So why don’t we bring her here?”

  “Back to New York?”

  “Yeah. The warehouse is plenty big. She can live with us and get back in school.”

  I consider it for a few seconds. “I’d love that, but I’m still afraid of her being recognized. I can’t let that happen.”

  “I can help with identification for her, too.”

  With a deep sigh, I decide it’s time to tell him what I really want. “I want to go there. I want to see where she’s at and figure out what’s happening with Bean. I want to spend some time alone with her.”

  Andrew’s expression is grim. “I understand . . . yeah. I’ll help however I can.”

  “I don’t know what will happen when I get there. If things are okay, I can come back here.”

  “Yeah.” He doesn’t look or sound like he believes that will happen.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you,” I say, putting my palm on his thigh. “I do. But I have a responsibility to my sister. I’m the one who took her away, and I need to take care of her.”

  He nods. “It’s okay, Quinn. I understand.”

  “I wish I could have both of you,” I say, my throat tightening with emotion.

  “Whomever you’re up against, I can handle them. You haven’t seen my darker side, but I’ve got one. I’m not afraid to fight for someone . . . for you.”

  His blue eyes are warm and full of devotion. My heart opens a little further to him.

  “She’d be sent back home,” I say. “I guess it’s technically . . . the judicial system I’m up against.”

  “Who has legal custody of her?�
��

  “Our mother.”

  His gaze stays locked on mine. “So we offer her money, then. It’s a powerful motivator.”

  “Not for her.”

  “You mean she wouldn’t want it, or she’s already got it?”

  “Already got it.”

  He nods and leans his elbows on his knees. “Damn. There’s got to be a way.”

  “I just need to see her so we can talk things over. Maybe if I could get her here, she’d be okay with a tutor coming to the warehouse. I hate to make her live like a shut-in, but at least we’d be together then.”

  “Just let me know when,” Andrew says, still looking down at the floor. “I’ll charter a flight for you.”

  “No. No flights. I’m too paranoid about someone finding out. I mean, there could be someone following me right now without me even knowing, just waiting for me to lead the way to her.”

  He looks over at me. “I can help with that.”

  I smile at his serious expression. “My grandma used to tell my grandpa that he was a dear. That’s what you are to me, Andrew. My dear man who is always ready to rescue me.”

  “Always.”

  “But I need to do this on my own. Please trust me enough to let me do that.”

  After several beats of silence, he says, “Okay.”

  He kisses me softly then, and I can see the warring emotions on his face. He wants to support me, but he’s disappointed. I take his face in my hands and kiss him, trying to tell him without words how much he means to me.

  “I guess we should go down,” he says, then clears his throat.

  I just nod, not trusting myself to speak. I’m a mess of emotions right now.

  We both put on a good face for the fundraiser guests. Andrew introduces me to everyone we talk to as his girlfriend, which is bittersweet. He places the winning bid on a doggie spa package for Midas at the fundraiser, and I realize yet again how hard it will be to leave.

  I have to, though.

  Once home, Andrew ravages me with the fiercest, most passionate sex we’ve had yet. He makes me come three times, and I try to commit every second to memory because soon, memories may be all I have of him.

  Andrew

  Midas shies away when I approach him with the leash. I have to corner him and get down on my knees to get it on him.

  “Hey, man, it’s me,” I say in a soothing tone. “I’m the guy who brought you those doggie cookies you like so much.”

  I pet him for a minute, and he stops shaking.

  “Ready,” Quinn says, walking into the kitchen wearing a white parka and a red stocking cap with a fuzzy ball on top.

  She dresses warmly for our nightly walk with Midas. But I do wonder why I haven’t seen any coats besides the white one.

  “Hey, is that the only coat you’ve got?” I ask as we walk to the front door.

  She looks down at it. “Yeah, other than the dress ones. Why?”

  I shrug. “I just saw the charges on the account from that store you like and figured you were buying a bunch. Not that I care. You should buy a bunch.”

  “Oh. Well, I kind of did buy a bunch, but they were for people at the shelter.”

  Her sheepish expression makes me furrow my brow. “You didn’t think I’d mind, did you?”

  “I don’t know . . . I should have known you wouldn’t.”

  “Do what makes you happy. Just let me know if it costs six figures or more.” I remember then that she’s leaving tomorrow. “I mean . . . if you come back.”

  “I’ll be back,” she says, but I know neither of us is convinced.

  I know she wants to come back—I can see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. But not knowing what she’ll find in Mexico, I know there’s no way she can be sure she will. If Bethy’s in a bad situation, I know Quinn will put her first. I admire that, though if it happens, I’ll never be the same.

  My business will thrive if she doesn’t come back. Feeling empty and angry fuels my need to crush the competition and make money. I like to work day and night when I’ve got nothing to go home to. Which, before Quinn, was always.

  We walk in silence for a couple minutes, stopping so Midas can sniff a tree. He decides it’s a good place for a piss so we wait.

  I’m having an inner struggle. Should I go all in with Quinn, put all my cards on the table before she leaves? It’s not like it’ll make her stay. She has to go take care of things with her sister. But I know if I don’t tell her everything and she never comes back, I’ll always wonder if I should have shown her all of me.

  Midas is ready to move on so we continue down the block. A couple college-aged guys in leather coats are approaching us walking in the other direction, and I see them checking Quinn out.

  They remind me too much of those assholes who beat her up. When they’re about to pass us and one of them is still looking at her, I say, “You guys need something?”

  They look over at me and then exchange glances.

  “No, man,” one of them says.

  “Sorry,” the other one mutters.

  They keep walking. Quinn takes my free arm, and we continue, too.

  “I’m going to miss you,” she says, resting her head on my shoulder.

  “You, too. Will you please reconsider taking your phone?”

  She moves her head from my shoulder. “I’m just too worried about being tracked.”

  “By whom?”

  “By someone.”

  “Your phone is on my account, and no one is accessing it. What if you run into trouble?”

  She shrugs. “I’ve run into trouble before. I have your number, you know. I’ll call from another phone if I need you.”

  “You’re not worried someone will track that?” I ask with sarcasm.

  “Well, a little . . .”

  “Jesus, Quinn. You’ve watched too much Law & Order.”

  “Look, better safe than sorry, all right?”

  I stare at the city lights in the distance. “I could find you if I wanted to. Whether you take the phone or not. You could walk away from me right now with nothing but the clothes on your back, and I could find you. But I won’t. If I see you again, it has to be because you came back to me.”

  She stops walking and looks over at me. “How? How could you find me?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters a hell of a lot, Andrew, because if you could find me, so could he.”

  I step closer to her. “Tell me who he is. I’ll put someone on him, and we’ll know where he is all the time.”

  She’s quiet for a few seconds, and then she finally says, “I don’t want you to know. When Bethy and I came here, we started fresh. No baggage. I became a badass who’d do anything to survive and protect her. That’s the woman you met. The woman you know.”

  “You’re all of it, Quinn. Even the shit that made you into a badass. And I love that woman. I love you so deep and so hard that I don’t know how I’ll survive you leaving.”

  I didn’t mean to let it out, but there it is. She seems to be holding her breath as she looks at me. “You . . . do? Love me. I mean, do you?”

  She can barely get the words out, and tears are welling in her eyes. I wrap my hands around her upper arms and say it again.

  “Yes. I love you, and with that comes a need to protect you. No one will hurt you ever again if you’ll just let me all the way in.”

  “I love you too, Andrew.” She blinks and tears drop onto her cheeks. “And we’ll be together again. One way or another.”

  Nothing’s ever been harder for me than nodding at this moment. I want to rage and yell and beat the shit out of a punching bag until I’m exhausted. But I won’t spend our last night together that way. Tonight is for showing her I’m a man worth coming back to. If that’s going to happen, I have to find a way to let her go.

  Quinn

  We get home from our walk, and Midas settles into the doggie bed Andrew put in the living room for him, content to chew on his bone.


  There’s something unspoken happening between Andrew and me. I can tell he’s tense. I wonder if he’s also hurt. He said he loves me, and I’m still leaving without my phone or any way for him to reach me. I need to make him understand that it’s about me, not him.

  “So what now?” I say, approaching him in the living room.

  He says nothing but wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a kiss that makes me tingle from scalp to toes. It’s demanding and hungry. I feel him asking me to give him everything tonight, and that’s all I want.

  I return his passion, and soon my nails are sinking into the back of his neck as we kiss like it’s our last night on Earth. He kicks off his shoes and picks me up, carrying me into the bedroom.

  Tonight’s different. I don’t want to be teased until he’s worked me into a frenzy. I’m already there. We pull each other’s clothes off with urgency, and Andrew ends up ripping off my bra and shredding my panties in his desperation.

  He pushes me onto the bed, and just as my back hits the mattress, he’s inside me. He’s thrusting hard and deep, grunting and biting down on my nipple as he plows into me.

  “Oh . . . God,” I cry. “Andrew . . .”

  His mouth meets mine in a crushing kiss. My orgasm is building fast. I’m going to come hard, and just before it becomes inescapable, he stops and flips me over.

  Oh . . . fuck. He’s got me on all fours now, and he’s buried so deep inside me I’m yelling his name in a pleading tone. Am I asking for mercy or more? I don’t even know.

  He never lets up, holding my hips as he rocks into me with savage force. This is his anger at me. It’s his frustration and disappointment that I’m leaving. It’s his love.

  I feel it, too. I don’t want to go, but I have to.

  “Fuck,” he says, the word coming out a primal grunt.

  He flips me over again and puts my ankles on his shoulders, then starts back up with the same brute force as before. Sweat glistens on his brow and chest as he thrusts again and again, never letting up.

  “Andrew,” I say, taking his hand and putting his palm on my cheek, “I love you. No matter what, I love you.”

  His expression twists with restrained emotion. As much as I love the way he’s fucking me with abandon, I can’t hold on anymore. I give in and let myself come. As soon as I do, his grunt becomes a groan, and he holds himself buried inside me as he comes with a shudder.