What will happen when he does catch me? Would he lose control and we can finally be done with this charade?
Do I want him to? Fuck, yes, I want him to.
Can I truly handle spending the night with him? Probably not.
“How is that fair?” I quirk an eyebrow. “You want me to, what, sprint to the elevator, and run into a random bar in hopes that you won’t find me?”
“Maybe it’s time we both live a little.” Isaac takes three steps back. “You’re burning precious time.”
“Shit,” I squeal, and snatch up my purse I must’ve left on the ground by the entry in my lust-filled haze.
My options are few but important. One: head back to my room and demand Audrey’s little fucktoy bails. Two: do as Isaac suggested and find a restaurant for half an hour. Or—my personal favorite—three: order nachos and margaritas, get caught on purpose, and after we share a late-night snack, I end up in his bed with his stupidly handsome face between my thighs.
As I’m about to open the door, he stops me, wrapping his arm around my middle to pull me to him. My breath catches. “Be safe. Be careful,” he warns, and my whole body is on fire being this close to him.
We can play this little game, maybe even sleep together, but in no universe could I truly be his in the end.
For one night, I want to pretend.
Opening the door, he presses a soft kiss to my neck before I walk out. I check to ensure no one is in the hall, then turn back to Isaac. Something snaps in me. We’re both well aware of what I called him when I was half asleep on the phone a couple of months ago. It’s time I take it for a test drive while we’re both sober and there’s no melatonin in sight.
“Twenty minutes, Daddy.”
14
Isaac
Fuck.
Of course she had to call me that, but I’m not going to give in and chase after her until the time is up. The moment the door shuts, I take a few deep breaths to slow my pulse. Ten minutes is plenty of time to find her. More than anything, I want her to squirm. I probably shouldn’t have suggested a little game of cat and mouse, but I needed to stop her from spiraling about everything.
It backfired.
As I roll up my sleeves, I catalogue each interaction I’ve had with Olivia over the past few months. I truly tried to be her friend…
No, I didn’t. It was all a lie.
There is no reality where I want her to be anything other than mine. Not just a random night together, I want her until we’re old and gray, arguing over something inconsequential like whose turn it is to check the mail. We may be playing right now, but I was serious about the stakes. In twenty minutes, I’m going to find her. And with any luck, I’ll get to keep her.
With time to spare, I send a quick message to Todd granting Olivia complete access to my suite, and to ensure no one disturbs us for the rest of the evening. I explain to Todd that I’ll be headed downstairs shortly by myself, and he strongly advises against going solo. It’s a risk, but if I have any chance of Olivia staying with me tonight, I have to do this alone. The hotel is swarming with security, so there’s no harm in Livy and me indulging ourselves a little…
“What the hell am I trying to do? Seduce her?” I mutter to myself. Olivia isn’t a woman you seduce; she’s a woman you claim and never let go once she surrenders herself to you. I made the mistake of letting her go once, and I won’t do it again.
Once my time is up—okay, fine, it’s only been fourteen minutes—I put on my glasses and go in search of my girl. There are four restaurants and three bars here, so it shouldn't be too much of a challenge to locate Livy. I make my way downstairs and check the restaurant where we had dinner. Every table is full with no solo diners. I try the restaurant beside it with the same result. The sports bar next door, where I first ran into her, is full of people watching game highlights. I check the booths in the back—no Olivia.
My pulse begins thrumming in my ears.Did I fuck this up?
The Mexican restaurant across the lobby is a little less busy, with four or five people sitting at the bar and only about two-thirds of the tables filled. At the end of the bar, there’s a white plastic bag and two clear plastic cups with what appear to be margaritas. Even after having dinner, the sight makes my mouth water. If I can’t find Livy and have to give up the room, I may be able to convince her to let me stay if I come bearing gifts of nachos and margaritas. It’s said the way to a woman’s heart is through herstomach… or does that only apply to men? Either way, it’s worth a shot.
I flag down the bartender, and he flings his towel onto his shoulder as he makes his way over. “Good evening. What’ll it be?”
“I’d love a large order of chicken nachos and two margaritas to go, please.”
“You’ve got it. Cash, card, or charge to the room?”
“Room,” I confirm.
He types into his computer and slides it across the bar to me. I fill it out to include my room number, gratuity, and last name, then pass it back to him. Returning to his computer, he frowns, then glances over at the to-go order, and back to me. “Isaac Banks?”
