Final Call (The Call #2) (32 page)

And craning my head
back to look at the peaceful, restful face of the man who possesses
every part of me, I know how true that statement is.

After everything, we’re
still as strong as we were the first time around.

This time, we’re just
not willing to let go. We learned our lesson.

Chapter
Twenty-Six

I swing my legs from
the bar, watching the seconds tick by on the clock. The large hand
approaches the twelve, crawling at a snail’s pace, and I sigh when
it finally reaches it.

It’s ten in the morning
and Aaron still isn’t up.

That alone tells me how
much yesterday tired him. He’s incapable of sleeping past six.
Crazy man.

I rock my head from
side to side. If I had any idea exactly what he was doing last
night, I’d go into his office and finish it. As it is, I have no
idea, so all I can is sit here like a freaking orange waiting to be
juiced.

I can’t read because my
concentration won’t last beyond a page. I’ve done my Candy Crush
and Coin Dozer thing, and if I see one more whining status post on
Facebook, I’ll do one of my own.

The sound of a phone
ringing in his office cuts through the silence, and I pause.
Oh
hell.

I jump down and run
into the room, barely blinking at the name on screen before
answering. “Hello?”

“Hello? Dayton? Is that
you?” Dottie’s voice is a welcome sound down the receiver.

“Yep, it’s me.”

“Great. Is Aaron
available to talk?”

“Sorry, Dottie. He’s
not. Is there anything I can help with?”

“Actually, I just have
some good news. Miguel managed to get Naomi’s website down before
too many people caught wind of the post, and the ones who did get
the details have all been caught up with. Between you and me, he
called in his intern, who has a knack for hacking.”

I blow out a long,
relieved breath and drop into Aaron’s chair. “That’s amazing,
Dottie. Did you have to send any more lawsuits?”

“None. They were
threatened with it last night if they ran with the information, by
Aaron, and I woke to an email instructing me to call every one and
explain that the story was a lie fabricated by his ex-wife. The
lawsuits were apparently for defamation of character.”

“So when this gets
around, the real story will be how Naomi was so jealous of Aaron
finding love with me again that she tried to sabotage our
relationship?”

I can’t help it. I
smile. Of course she wouldn’t get away with it that easily.

“The idea is that the
story doesn’t get around at all, but hey, if it does…”

I can picture it
clearly, the twinkle in her eye. The amused one that says she’s as
happy about this as I am. Well, that’s impossible, but I know
she’ll be grinning.

“If it does, it does.
After all, you can’t tell the media what to post, can you?”

Dottie laughs.
“Absolutely not. I’m going to get back to work. Can you pass a
message on to the boss for me?”

“Of course.”

“Tell him I’ve
rescheduled his appointments for this afternoon and cleared next
week, as he requested in his email. And that everything else he
asked for will be delivered by courier at noon.”

Everything else?

“Uh, sure thing. And,
Dottie? Thanks. I mean it.”

“Just doing my job,
Dayton, but it certainly helps when the person you’re helping isn’t
a bitch.” She laughs again. “I’ll speak to you soon. Bye.”

“Bye,” I echo, setting
the phone back in the holder.

Done.

It’s done.

I’m safe. Aaron’s safe.
The business is safe.

And I didn’t do a thing
to protect any of us. And boy, is that a hard pill to swallow.
Handing all that control over to someone else is the hardest thing
I’ve ever done.

I press the heels of my
hands into my eyes and make my way back to the kitchen.

“Fucking hell, you
scared the life out of me!”

Aaron turns slowly, a
grin across his face, and holds out a mug. “Coffee?”

I shoot him my best
not-impressed look and take it from him. “I thought you were
sleeping.”

“I was. Then I did this
thing people call waking up.” He raises his eyebrows, sipping from
a second mug, then screws his face up. “This is yours. Not that
one.”

A giggle escapes me as
he swaps our mugs. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, Bambi, you didn’t
wake me. Although…were you just on the phone in my office?”

I nod, smiling
sheepishly. “It rang, so I thought I’d answer it. It was
Dottie.”

“Anything good?”

I relay to him the
conversation we just had. The tension visibly leaves him as I
speak, each point relaxing him a little more. The frown lines in
his forehead smooth out and the purse in his lips becomes a gentle
smile. The frustration in his eyes becomes an easy happiness that
glimmers brightly.

“Yes, it would be a
shame if Naomi was branded as a liar, wouldn’t it?”

“How do you expect to
get around that, Aaron?”

“It’s that or she’s
labeled as a blackmailer. And if that were to be public, the police
would eventually pick up on it and she’d have much bigger problems
than her reputation.”

I scratch my cheek,
watching him talk so casually. Like he really doesn’t care.

And it’s plain to see
in his eyes. He really doesn’t. As long as I’m okay and he’s okay
and we’re okay together, he couldn’t give a flying monkey about
her.

“But you already have
the lawsuit ready.”

His eyes twinkle. “From
me. You’re not mentioned anywhere. If the situation arose, you
would naturally work with the police and aid them in their
case.”

I look at him for a
long moment before sitting back. “You really have thought of
everything, haven’t you, Mr. Stone?”

“I warned you, Miss
Black. I’m a ruthless man to deal with, especially when people fuck
with me. More so when they fuck with you. Naomi did both, and now
if she has any sense, she’ll leave us alone for good.”

“You’re a wonder. Also,
remind me never to fuck with you. Not that it matters because I’m
not allowed to pay for anything, so your lawsuit would be a waste
of time. You’d be paying for it yourself.”

He smirks, leaning
forward infinitesimally. “Don’t fuck
with
me, Dayton. Just
fuck me normally and I promise not to get my lawyer involved.”

“Oh, so generous of
you.”

“Isn’t it?” He stands
and glances at my mug. “Have you finished with your coffee?”

“No. I still have half
left.”

“That’s a shame. I hate
to waste it.” He pulls it away from me and empties it down the
sink. “Oh well.”

“What the hell was that
for? I was drinking that!”

“Correct. You were.” He
rounds the bar and tugs me from the stool, his eyes darkening. “Now
we’re going to make good on that fucking part I just
mentioned.”

“We are?”

“Yes. You’re wearing my
shirt again, and I believe it was some six hours ago I was
promising to fuck you on my desk, so I suggest you get your ass
into my office and hop up onto that desk pronto.”

“You’re getting more
demanding by the day, Mr. Stone.” I add some extra wiggle to my
hips as I walk, and I’m rewarded by a low growl of pleasure behind
me. And punished with a sharp smack on my ass.

“I never said anything
about a demand. I’m requiring you get on my damn desk. Now
move.”

***

“Thank you.” Aaron
takes a large envelope from someone and closes the door behind
him.

I watch from my
slouched position on the sofa as he pulls a letter opener from the
kitchen drawer and slices the letter open.

Because who doesn’t
keep one of those in their kitchen?

I resist the urge to
roll my eyes as he pulls out a large piece of paper and…

“What the hell is
that?”

“This?” He holds up the
piece of paper. “Oh, it’s the final lease for a house I just
bought.”

“You bought a house?” I
sit up straight. “What? Where? Why?”

He laughs throatily and
hands me the paper. He leans on the back of the sofa, and I catch
his eyes for a second before I look at it.

My mouth goes dry. Am I
reading this right?

“You bought a house in
Paris?
”

His grin widens.
“Correct.”

“Why would you do that?
I mean. What? I’m so confused.”

Another laugh. “It’s
not that confusing, sweetheart. I found a house I liked, I bought
it, end of discussion.”

“But everything always
goes wrong in Paris.”

“Perhaps before, yes.
But not this time. When we leave Paris next weekend, we’ll be very
much together.”

“Next weekend? Oh!” I
slap the paper against the cushion in front of me. “That’s why
Dottie cleared your schedule for next week!”

He leans in, sweeping
his lips over mine. “I told you that when all that shit was done
with I was stealing you away for a little while. The only person
aside from us who is aware of the Paris house is Alexander, and
that’s the way it’s going to stay. Everyone else will assume we’re
heading to the Bahamas for a week at an exclusive resort.”

“You picked Paris over
the Bahamas? Are you crazy?”

“Perhaps, but after
everything, I think we need to remember where it all began. Don’t
you agree?”

I sigh, unable to argue
that point. He’s right. We need to go back to the place it started,
this time with no secrets, no skeletons, no force. We need to go
because we want to, because it’s part of who we are. That’s all
there really is to it.

“I can’t believe you
bought a house.”

“We can stay in a hotel
if you prefer.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Not
that I don’t like Parisian hotels, but if there’s a house, I’ll
take the house. Besides, isn’t the first rule of buying a house
with your significant other that you have to make love on every
surface in every room?”

His eyes darken. “Is
it?”

“I believe so.” I get
up and spin around him, my hands clasped behind my back as I walk
backward. “It’s practically a requirement.”

“Far be it from me to
deny you a requirement, Dayton. I suggest you go and pack a
suitcase while I call and get the plane ready. It looks like we’re
flying out early.”

“How early?”

“Tonight early. I want
to make sure I leave myself enough time to enjoy you everywhere
possible, per house-purchasing requirements.”

The depth in his voice,
the husky undertone, leaves me no doubt that he intends to do just
that.

I open the closet door,
my eyes skimming over my half.

Perhaps I should pack
just underwear instead.

“Here.”

Red floods my vision,
and I step back into Aaron’s hard body. When my eyes focus again, I
look at the red corset he got me in London.

“Pack this,” he orders.
“There’s a bay window seat in the master bedroom that looks onto
the Eiffel Tower.”

“What relevance does
that have to the red corset?”

He lowers his mouth to
my ear, whispering, “It’ll add to the view when I bend you over the
seat and fuck you.”

I clench my thighs
together. Jesus, he was only inside me an hour ago and I’m already
aching for him. Damn him and his word-fucking.

“Keep talking like that
and you’ll be rearranging the plane again.”

“You’re insatiable,
woman.”

“Coming from the man
who just informed me he’s going to bend me over a window seat and
fuck me right after doing something very similar.”

“I appreciate the view
of your ass while I fuck you. Are you complaining?”

The ache intensifies a
little as I remember my most recent orgasm. “Nope. No
complaints.”

“Then be quiet and
pack.” He throws a suitcase onto the bed. “Don’t pack too many
clothes. You won’t be needing them.”

I smirk, unzipping the
top of the suitcase. I drop the corset in, much to his delight, and
put my hands on my hips. I watch him maneuver his way around the
closet easily, so certain of what he’s taking and what he
isn’t.

My eyebrows go up when
he drops a pile of clothes on the bed. I count them—six pairs of
pants. Oh no. If I’m on clothing rations, then he is too.

I cough, motioning to
the pile, and he smirks himself, grabbing two pairs and depositing
them back on his shelf in the closet.

No.

I grab another two
pairs and skip past him, laughing, shoving them on top of some
shorts before he grabs me and spins me round. His fingers dig into
my sides, and I laugh louder, squirming and wriggling.

“Two pairs for a week?
What do you think I am, woman? A tramp?”

“No,” I breathe,
holding my side through the tight pain there. Damn him. “But you
said”—I take a deep breath—“not too many clothes. Applies for you,
too.”

He laughs, pulling me
against him. “You can take as many clothes as you want, but they
won’t be worn for long.” He trails his hand down my back and inside
the waistband of my shorts to cup my ass.

“Making a point, Mr.
Stone?” I gasp when he grazes his teeth down my neck.

Oh crap.

“Point for what?”

“How long my clothes
will be worn for?”

He squeezes my behind
and brings his wrist up, glancing at his watch. “We have time.”

“Again?”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh no.” I wrestle
myself from him. “No, no, no!”

I laugh, running
through the apartment. And as I slam the office door shut behind
me, I realize my mistake.

You never run from
someone willing to stalk you until he can catch you.

“Dayton.” He hums my
name through the door. “Do I need to break the door down?”

“That’s a habit for
you.”

“Open the fucking door.
The longer you keep me waiting out here, the harder I’ll have to
fuck you.”

Oh, silly, silly man.
When will he realize that that’s not a bad thing at all?