Chapter 6: Mr Garcia: Chapter 6

I sit back in my chair, wow.

A smile crosses my face, and here I was thinking that he was damaged in some way.

Sebastian isn’t damaged. He was just feeling guilty. I give a subtle shake with my head, I don’t know why I’m even surprised.

Actually, who am I kidding? I’m not surprised. I expect men to be a letdown. They always are.

I thought we had a connection, a little voice whispers from deep in my heart.

I fold the paper back in half and put it down with a heavy exhale.

My thoughts drift to the morning when we woke up and how he was with me. At the time, I did feel it was out of character for him to be so sweet, but I liked it, so I didn’t let my mind explore why. I can still hear his sexy, deep voice when he told me he was leaving, and he asked if I was okay. When he told me that he’d had an incredible night.

I roll my eyes. No wonder he was being all wonderful and caring, calling me babe and shit. Did he feel guilty then because he was going home to her? Is that why he was being nice? Or was he being so nice because he knew I was being a fucking idiot for him?

God.

I’m not his babe.

Screw him, and screw the lot of them.

With a shaky hand, I sip my coffee. I have no idea why I thought he was different.

Because he is, that pathetic bitch who lives in my heart argues.

I go over the cold hard facts—the ones I can’t deny.

I met him in a brothel, and deep down, I already knew who he was.

“Can I get you anything?” the waiter asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“No, I’m good. Great, actually.” I smile up at him.

“Let me know if you want another coffee,” he smiles.

“Sure thing.”

I watch him walk away, and I lift the drink to my lips with a sad smile.

You know you’re fucked up when you’re secretly relieved when a man shows his true colors. Call it what you will—an alarm bell, a sixth sense, or the universe looking out for me—but I know it’s just a little reminder of what it feels like to be hurt by someone you love.

And a warning to never go there again.

“Hmm, I’m going to have that, too.” I smile as I hand over my menu.

“So, anyway,” Lara continues. “Now I’m going to get a bad mark, all because this stupid witch couldn’t be bothered to do her half of the assignment.”

“That sucks,” Brandon sighs. “I hate group assignments.”

“It’s never fair,” I add. “One person always ends up doing all the work.”

“You need to tell someone,” Brandon says.

“You really do.” I sip my wine.

It’s Saturday night, and as usual, I’m out for dinner with Lara and Brandon.

My phone vibrates across the table, and I turn it over to see the name Porsha lighting up the screen.

Shit, she’s found out about Sebastian swapping last week.

She is going to fire me. Oh well… it’s not like I want to go back, anyway.

“I’ve just got to take this,” I say as I stand. “Back in a minute.” I rush toward the exit door and answer the phone. “Hello.”

“Hello, Cartier.”

“Hi, Porsha.”

“Darling, there has been a change of plans to this week’s roster.”

“Okay…” I frown.

“Mr. Smith has requested a private night with you so you will be working tomorrow night instead of Thursday.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“We have a platinum service here, and Mr. Smith has decided to option that. Come to the club and we will style you of course, but you won’t be taking place in the auction as usual.”

“Is that a thing?”

“It is very rare, I must admit.”

“But that’s not part of my job description.”

“Well—”

“No, thanks,” I cut her off. “I’m not interested in doing private nights with any of the clients. Least of all him.”

“I thought you liked Mr. Smith.”

My eyes bulge as I try to think of a professional reply. “I’m sorry. I’m just not interested.”

“Well, what will I tell him?”

“Whatever you want; I really don’t care. Tell him I’m washing my hair. Why don’t you organize Luna to take my place instead?”

Porsha chuckles. “Are you sure? He’s put in a very large bid.”

I roll my eyes. “Very sure. Thank you for the opportunity, though.”

Porsha exhales. “He won’t be happy.”

“Not my problem. I’ll see you Thursday night.”

“Yes, okay. Have a good night.”

I smile, feeling a little more of my power return. “Goodbye.” I hang up and walk back into the restaurant.

“Who was that?” Brandon asks.

“The café,” I lie, taking my seat again. “I got an extra shift.”

The morning sun beams through the café window.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“I’ll have an English breakfast tea with milk, please,” the customer says.

I type it into the computer. “And would you like a scone today, Mrs. Henderson?”

“Yes.” She grins. “You have a good memory.”

“How could I forget you? Take a seat and I’ll bring it out.”

I turn and put the order onto the coffee machine line for Lance, and then I go about getting her scone ready.

I go to the computer and address the next customer. “Can I help you?”

“Double macchiato,” a deep voice says.

I look up and into the stare of Sebastian. He’s wearing a navy suit and a crisp white shirt. His dark hair hangs over his beautiful face, and his lips are a perfect shade of come fuck me. A stupid thrill runs through me before I catch myself.

I look back down at the screen. “Is that everything, sir?”

He stays silent, forcing me to look up.

He raises an eyebrow, and I raise mine back.

“Is. That. Everything. Sir?” I repeat.

He clenches his jaw. “A word? Outside?”

“I’m sorry. I’m very busy. Do you want something with your macchiato or not?”

“Outside, now, or I’ll drag you out. The choice is yours.”

I fake a smile. “I’m not interested in what you have to say, Mr. Garcia.”

“April…” He glares at me. “You have three seconds to get your fucking ass outside before I drag you out there.”

“Go to hell,” I mouth, we glare at each other and that crazy anger bounces between us.

“What is your fucking problem?” he hisses.

I push his order into the computer, becoming a little flustered. “Leave me alone, Sebastian.”

Lance turns toward us.

“I’m just going to steal April for a moment.” Sebastian fakes a smile at Lance. “It’s a matter of urgency. She won’t be a minute”

Lance looks between us. “Okay.”

For God’s sake.

I march out and onto the street with Sebastian hot on my heels. He drags me around the corner into the alleyway.

“What is your fucking problem?” he snaps.

I cross my arms and roll my eyes. “I don’t have a problem.”

“I knew you’d fucking carry on.”

“Carry on?” I whisper angrily. “I’m not the one carrying on here, Sebastian. Go away.”

“It was a blind date that was organized weeks ago.”

“Fuck off. It clearly said she was your partner.”

“And you believe everything in the tabloids?”

“I don’t care, anyway.”

“We’re not together, April.”

“My point exactly.” I move to brush past him, he grabs me by the arm and pulls me back. “Stop it,” I whisper. “You’re too old for me, anyway.”

“Obviously, because it feels like I’m dealing with an errant teenager right now.”

My cheeks heat with embarrassment. He’s right; I am acting like a child, but screw it, I’m angry. I cross my arms in a huff.

“I didn’t touch her,” he says calmly.

I roll my eyes.

“It was a blind date that I didn’t organize. Besides, why would I want to go out with another woman when all I can think about is you?” My eyes meet his, and a trace of a smile crosses his face. “Now, are you finished with your tantrum?”

I twist my lips as I try to hold in my snarky tongue. “You made me feel like shit.”

He pauses for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

He tries to place his hand on my arm but I flick him off.

“You’re no good for me, Sebastian.”

He smiles his first genuine smile. “No shit.”

I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I don’t even care what you do.”

“Are you sure about that?” He steps forward, so he’s only inches from my face.

I drop my gaze to the ground, and he places his finger under my chin and brings my face up to his. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“It’s none of my business who you see.”

“You’re wrong,” he smiles. “It’s all of your business.”

His lips take mine, and he kisses me with just the right amount of suction, enough to curl my toes. “Come and stay with me tonight.”

My brows furrow. Fuck it, this was not in my game plan.

“I organized this so you don’t have to go to the auction on Thursday night. My bathrooms are being remodeled, and I’m staying at the hotel for a few nights. And Porsha owes me a favor.”

“What does that mean?”

“I drew up the plans for her renovation. She owes me.”

I raise my brow. “I’m the favor?”

He smiles as he rearranges my apron.

“You’re staying above the club all week?” I frown. “Are you going inside?”

He chuckles, grabs the lapels of my shirt, and he drags me to him. “I like this jealousy thing.” His lips dust mine.

“I’m not jealous. I’m just not interested in sloppy seconds.”

He smirks as his eyes hold mine.

“If you want to go inside the club that’s fine, but…” I look down the alleyway as I try to make this sound less loser-ish.

“But?” He kisses me down my neck.

How am I supposed to think when he’s all over me like this? He doesn’t play fair.

“I shouldn’t like you,” I say.

He smiles against my neck. “But you do.”

“Will you stop it?” I step back from him to get some distance. “I just…” God, I’m feeling all needy and territorial. Damn this man.

We’re just fucking, I try to remind myself.

“I don’t like that you go there,” I say.

“I don’t like that you go there.”

“I’ve two more shifts left.”

“One after tonight.”

My gaze drops to the pathway beneath us.

He takes me into his arms. “Come and stay at the club with me.” He kisses my temple. “I’m only going there for you.” He presses his lips to my ear. “Don’t make me beg.”

I give him a stifled smile, my tantrum on the way out. “I’ll think about it.”

“I can order in, we can have cocktails,” he offers to try and sweeten the deal.

My eyes hold his. “What do you even like about me, Sebastian?”

He hesitates as if searching for the right answer and eventually he replies. “You make me forget who I am.”

What does that mean? “What’s wrong with who you are?”

“Everything.”

My heart constricts. “Well, apart from you taking other women to balls and making me crazy jealous, and the small fact that you’re a cranky asshole,” I shrug, “I think you’re kind of wonderful.”

He gives me a slow sexy smile and pushes his hands into his pant pockets. “I’ll see you tonight then?”

I nod with a smile, and then I walk back down the alleyway to my café.

“April?” he calls from behind me.

I turn back toward him.

“Where’s my kiss goodbye?”

My heart swells. I turn, and he takes me into his arms. Then, I kiss him softly. His big lips linger over mine, and alarm bells scream all around me.

I have no resistance when it comes to this man. None. He has me completely where he wants me, and I can’t even pretend to want to fight it.

“I’ll count down the hours till I see you,” he whispers.

I nod, already knowing that this train is going straight to Hell.

But like the fool that I am, I can’t get off.

The makeup artist applies the finishing touches to my face, and I stare at my reflection in the illuminated mirror.

“How’s that?” she asks.

“Great,” I smile, happy with the result. “Thanks.”

I asked for a natural look tonight. My blonde hair is straight in its sharp bob. I had a toner put in it, making it more of a champagne color now. For the first time since I’ve been at the Escape Club, I’m wearing a pant suit. It’s black with a gold, silk, button up top and a black, fitted suit jacket.

I feel sexier than I have before here. I wanted to be more me.

This is something that I would wear in the outside world. Lacy strapless dresses, while nice, are not something I would wear on a night out.

I stand and turn to look at my behind. The pants are fitted, and I unfasten my two top buttons of my shirt, revealing a peek at the cream lacy bra beneath it.

Excitement fills me knowing that I get to see him soon.

I had an epiphany in the shower earlier. It’s okay to enjoy a man and know that there’s no future with him. I’m giving myself permission to fall in lust because, let’s face it, that’s what this is: an intense, out of this world sexual attraction. He feels it, too. He’s made that very clear.

Our bodies work well together. He’s big, strong, dominant and, well, it turns out that I like being dominated by him.

Who knew?

I’m taking this little thing between us as a break from reality. For however long it lasts—I’m predicting it won’t be for much longer—I’m going to enjoy the ride because men who look and fuck like Sebastian Garcia are a rarity.

He’s a precious diamond in the rough. The pinnacle of a woman’s sexual experiences.

I’m twenty-five and in my prime. I have no commitments, and I like handing my power over to him. He knows exactly what to do with it. No man has ever satisfied me like he does. The sex we have is out of this world.

So fucking hot.

Andrew walks past with his earpiece in. “Cartier, your key is at the front desk. You are on the other side of the hotel tonight.”

I frown. “The civilian side?”

The hotel has two towers. One for the Escape Club, the other for regular hotel visitors.

“Yeah, that’s it. The penthouse, Tower One.”

The girl standing next to me hisses, “Lucky bitch.”

I smile, and with one last look at myself, I make my way to reception to grab the key and make my way to the penthouse of Tower One.

Standing at the door, I let out a deep, shaky breath to brace myself. I’m nervous tonight. For many reasons, I guess. The main one being close to him.

I swipe my card to open the door, and my senses are instantly overloaded.

Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye is playing through the speakers. It’s the song I walked down the catwalk to on that second night.

I walk through the luxurious foyer to see him standing by the window in a black dinner suit. His back is to me as he stares out over the city with a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

I watch him uninterrupted for a moment. Tall, dark and handsome, but it’s his persona that is calling to me. There’s a sexuality about him that’s deep and ingrained into his psyche. Hell, I’m addicted.

“Hello.”

He turns, and his eyes drop down my body and back up to my face. “Hello.” He lifts the glass to his lips. “You look beautiful,” he says after taking a drink.

I smile bashfully as I walk toward him. “So do you.”

He puts his drink down and meets me halfway. As soon as we connect, we kiss. Our eyes close, and he holds my face in the way he always does. The kiss is deep and passionate, as if we haven’t seen each other in forever.

Words aren’t necessary when we’re together, it’s like we speak another language, or maybe it’s that our bodies do all the talking. “Hi,” he mumbles against my mouth.

I smile with him. “Why do you turn me into a sex maniac, Mr. Garcia?”

He chuckles and leads me to the bar. “I’m afraid you have that the wrong way around.”

He fills two glasses of champagne and passes me one. He taps the top of his glass against mine.

“I think we’ve said all of twenty words to each other since we met.”

I smile around my glass, knowing that he’s completely right.

His hungry eyes drop down my body and, as if unable to help it, he runs his hand down my chest and cups my breast through my shirt. “I like you dressed like this.”

“I prefer you naked,” I retort.

He raises a brow. “I promised myself that we would at least have a conversation.” His eyes drop to my lips, distracted.

“Talking is overrated. I prefer to use my tongue on better things,” I tell him.

He inhales sharply. “Please don’t let me stand in your way. What do I know?”

I walk up to him, and I grab his crotch through his trousers. “You’ve got something I want, Mr. Garcia.”

He takes a sip of his champagne.

I put my mouth to his ear. “I want to lick you up and drink you down.”

He grabs a handful of my hair. “Then get on your fucking knees.”

I whimper, the grip on my hair painful as he pushes me to the floor.

He swiftly has his fly undone and his hard cock at the back of my throat. I gag.

He’s too big.

He smiles darkly and eases out a little. Then, he places his hands on the back of my head and pumps my throat, pushing himself in deep.

I whimper, and he tips his head back in ecstasy.

His eyes darken as he watches me and I get the feeling I’m going to get it hard in a minute. Real Hard.

“Fuck… me,” he pants.

I pull off him and smile, “Now, isn’t that better than pointless conversation?” I run my hands up his thick quads.

“I’d have to agree,” he chuckles.

We lie naked, facing each other. It’s late.

The moonlight filters through the room, casting a magical spell.

I don’t know how many times we’ve had sex now, but with every earth-shattering orgasm I fall a little harder for Mr. Garcia.

He reaches out to dust his thumb over my bottom lip. “How did you get so beautiful?”

“It’s all that come I’ve been drinking.”

He laughs out loud and it’s a wonderful sound.

“So, your bathrooms are getting redone?” I ask.

“They are.” He leans in and kisses me, clearly bored with that topic.

“How many nights are you here in the hotel?”

“Seven.” His eyes hold mine, as if he’s deep in thought, and then he kisses me again. “Stay.”

“What?

“Stay with me for the week.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

I smile softly as hope blooms in my chest, I know this is a bad idea. I should be running away but I can’t make myself.

I cup his face in my hand, and my lips take his. “Okay.”