Late Call (Call #1)(62)
Author: Emma Hart

Air fills my lungs with one short, sharp inhale, and I fall into him. The Post-its scatter on the floor around us, but I don’t care. All I care about is burying my face into the chest of this man I’ve loved since I knew what love was and wondering what the f**king hell I’m going to do.

I cling to the back of his robe. “Why didn’t I find them? Why?”

“I wanted you to look,” he whispers into my neck. “I wanted you to look for something that was so glaringly obvious to me. Something you were oblivious to.”

“How was I supposed to find them if I never knew?”

“I don’t know. Jesus.” He cups the back of my head. “I’ve done a whole lot of f**king hoping since you walked into that goddamn booth, Dayton. I hoped every morning you’d find them, and when each night you hadn’t, a little bit of that hope died.”

“That’s why you wanted to drop the call girl stuff.”

“No.” He pulls back and looks me dead in the eye. I’ve never seen his gaze so hard and determined. “No. I wanted you drop that bullshit because that’s not who you are to me. You will never be that person to me. I accept it, but I know you better.”

“You know me from years ago.”

“No. I know the woman who lies about loving Bambi and being amazed by the Eiffel Tower. I know the woman who hides her emotions behind a barbed-wire fence because it’s what society expects of her. And I know the beautiful, passionate, playful woman hiding behind that fence.” His words wrap around me in a blanket of comfort and security. “And that’s the woman I’ll take.”

I know those words. I know what they mean. Him or my job. A choice. An ultimatum.

And not an unfair one.

Also not one I’m going to respond to right now.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Trust me,” he said. Trust him I did.

At seventeen, I would have followed Aaron Stone to the very depths of hell and back again if I’d had to. I’m not sure if, at twenty-four, that would be much different.

After forcing me to eat my breakfast, he shoved me into the bedroom and practically pulled my damn dress over my head before getting himself dressed. And I have to admit, that’s something I both loathed and enjoyed. Seeing his naked body is always beautiful, but his covering it up? Not so much.

Now we’re walking the streets of Paris. His fingers are linked through mine and he’s barely said a word as he drags me across quaint cobbled streets I know I should recognize. He shakes his head at all my questions. He curls his lips at all my annoyed prods. He rolls his eyes at all my groans that heels can’t take the endless hobbles.

“My feet hurt,” I whine. “You could have warned me. I think my feet are actually breaking.”

“For f**k’s sake, Day.” He stops. “Get on my back.”

I laugh loudly. “Are you kidding me? I’m wearing a dress!”

“Believe me. I’ll make sure no one can see that gorgeous red and black set you thought I didn’t notice you sneaking on this morning.”

“I don’t doubt it.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “Do you know how crazy this is?”

“It’s only as crazy as you make me, woman. Hurry up before I change my mind.”

“Aaron Stone, soon-to-be CEO of Stone Advertising is giving me a piggyback ride through Paris.” I snort and bury my face in his shoulder blade. He slides his hand up my thigh and smacks my ass, and I laugh. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just kind of funny. How many super powerful businessmen do you see doing this?”

“I wouldn’t know. If they don’t, I’d imagine they’d have no idea how to treat their women. God forbid she should have sore feet.”

I slap his chest. “So shoot me. I forgot how many streets here were covered in stones.”

“The only stone you need to worry about is me, sweetheart.” He squeezes my thighs. I grin. “I’m harder to deal with than all of these f**kers put together.”

“Only because you’re demanding and controlling and a pain in my frigging ass.”

“Watch it, woman. I’m controlling, remember?”

“Ooh, what are you gonna do? Tie my wrists to a bed and f**k the breath out of me?”

He shifts his body so I fall to one side. He catches me elegantly, flattening my body against his. “Damn f**king right I am.” His mouth covers mine with a heat I feel everywhere. “I didn’t hear any complaints from you that night.”

“Uh-uh.” I shake my head and put my finger against his lips. “The next time we f**k, I’m in control.”

“Is that right?”

“You have no idea how right it is until you’ve been truly f**ked by me.”

“I’ve been f**ked a thousand times.”

“Baby, you haven’t been f**ked by me. Tonight you can put away your controlling demands because I’m the one taking the reins.”

He pulls my hips against his, and his erection digs into my hip. “Is that right?”

“You bet your ass it is.” I kiss him hard, pushing myself into him. “Now, where are we going?”

His eyes change from dark to bright blue. “You’re a temptress, Dayton Black.”

“Cock tease is what I’m used to hearing, but I’ll take both.” I pull him forward. “Where are you taking me?”

“I’m taking you to the place where I realized I was in love with you.”

My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “This isn’t the way to the Eiffel Tower.”

He smirks and spins us so he’s leading the way. I watch him as he walks—his strong strides swallowing up the sidewalk, his gaze focused on his destination, and his jaw firmly set.

“That’s where you say, ‘No, Bambi. This is the place I realized for the second time I was in love with you.’”

“Dayton Black.”

“Aaron Stone.”

“Shut up for once in your life. Shut those gorgeous red lips and follow me.”

“I’ve been following you for ages.”

“And thank f**king god we’re here.”

I look to the side. And stop. Everything. I stop breathing and thinking, and my heart stops beating. “Pont de l’Archevêché,” I breathe. The narrow bridge is covered with padlocks, every inch of it having one of the metal locks attached to it.

Aaron smirks and spins, facing me. His feet are at the end of the bridge, and he steps back, mouthing something at each step. What the hell is he doing?