Avoiding Extras E-Book

K. A. Linde

• Herausgeber: K.A. LINDE
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Avoiding
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Seitenzahl: 298

Beschreibung

A sexy contemporary romance collection of three unforgettable Avoiding stories from Chyna, Jack, and Ramsey's POV from USA Today bestselling author K.A. Linde...
Chyna
Growing up, Chyna was handed everything on a silver platter. She never wanted for anything, except love.
When a man rescued her after she was drugged in a night club, she never expected to start a relationship with him. But Adam stole her heart that night.
Still her fear of turning into her parents only makes her relationship rocky. Without even meaning to, she finds herself self-sabotaging at every turn.
Adam is what she wants. Then she’s offered a once in a lifetime opportunity to model for the hottest new fashion designer. Will their love survive her career?
Jack
Jack is balancing being a barista, hanging with his friends, and his girlfriend, who he keeps trying to break up with.
Then a girl enters his life that changes everything—Lexi.
Ramsey
Ramsey recently went through a terrible break up. Out for an interview for his father's company, he meets a gorgeous woman that changes everything—Lexi.

Leseprobe

Avoiding Intimacy

K.A. Linde

Contents

Avoiding Intimacy

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Acknowledgments

Also By K.A. Linde

About the Author

To Joel, I’m writing and dancing.

Avoiding Intimacy

Copyright © 2013 by K.A. Linde

All rights reserved.

Visit my website at

www.kalinde.com

Join my newsletter for free books and exclusive content!

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Cover Designer: Perfect Pear Creative

www.perfectpearcreative.com

Photographer: Perrywinkle Photography

www.perrywinklephoto.com

Editor: Unforeseen Editing,

www.unforeseenediting.com

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-1948427081

Avoiding Intimacy

1

Present

Chyna lounged back in her chaise, soaking up the remaining afternoon rays from the hot Italian sun. Her olive-toned skin was at home in its natural habitat and had darkened considerably over the course of the last month and a half. Milan had treated her well, and she adored it here. She had grown up in New York City—fashion week, the MET, the Upper East Side, Central Park—but even she had to admit that as much as she loved the city, Milan was just something else.

Her Italian tour was nearing an end, and soon the designer label she had been modeling for all summer would no longer need her services. She was reluctant to move from the penthouse they had provided overlooking the Via Monte Napoleone, Milan’s most illustrious shopping district. She would miss the private beach in Genoa where she would take jaunts to the coast with Giovanna, Ravenna, and Brigitte. Most of all, what really surprised her was that she would miss the work.

Modeling ran through her veins. Most believed that all you needed were long legs and a pretty face to be an effective model, but there was so much more to it than that. It was truly an art form that she had mastered. Who knew all those years of getting plastered at her mother’s shoots would pay off in the long run?

“Chyna, the sun is almost down,” Brigitte whined.

So, maybe she wouldn’t miss her.

“I know, Bridge.” Chyna used the nickname just to annoy her. She was so French sometimes.

Brigitte wrinkled up her tiny nose at the comment and swung her honey blonde hair over her shoulder. “Fine. You do your own hair and makeup for the Glam Ball. Marco will not be kept waiting.”

Chyna sighed as Brigitte walked away. Marco was yet another reason she should stay in Italy, and he was also the biggest reason to leave. Marco was…everything. As the head proprietor of Camera Nazionale della Moda Italiana, the nonprofit organization in charge of Milan Fashion Week, he practically owned the city, which meant that he owned her, too.

Stretching out her long lean legs, Chyna picked up her dirty martini and downed the remaining contents. She plucked the string of olives out of the glass and carried them with her to the exit. Tonight was going to be an interesting night to say the least.

Glam Ball was an annual event for Milan’s high-end fashion clientele, and Marco had played host to the event for the past four years. As his lucky number five rolled around, in true Marco fashion, he had way overdone himself. Chyna had stumbled across a bill for the French-imported champagne alone and had cringed. The number had actually made her cringe.

The pièce de résistance of the entire glorious occasion though had to be utter perfection. He needed something better and more spectacular than he had ever had before. And, he had never had Chyna before.

When she had found out that Marco was using her, an American, as the centerpiece for the ball, she could barely contain her excitement. She had never wanted anything more in her life. He had picked her out single-handedly in front of the entire group of exhibition models, and it had taken all of her self-control to not burst into tears right there in front of him. She hadn’t had the same self-control when she had returned to the penthouse. After only two weeks of modeling for him, he had chosen her. It had almost seemed too good to be true. Almost.

She and Marco began private lessons and photo shoots shortly thereafter. The amount of time she put into her modeling that next month would have made her mother proud, if she did that sort of thing. Chyna didn’t care about the other girls’ jealousy. The business wasn’t built on friendship; it was built on taking advantage of the opportunity that lay in front of you.

So, she spent hour after hour locked in a room with him, his camera, and his favorite piano composition. She practiced pouting her lips just so, making her eyes give off five-hundred different meanings with a glance, swishing her hips, adjusting her hands to perfection, fluffing and blowing out her long black hair. He knew exactly what he wanted and how to extract it out of her through the camera lens.

She should have expected the turn it took. She should have seen it all for what it really was.

Chyna shook her head as she entered her closet and stripped down out of her bathing suit. It hardly mattered what she wore to the Ball itself. The models would change at the venue into the handcrafted outfits designed for the event. A limo would be here soon enough to whisk them to La Scala Theatre, the world-renowned opera house in the heart of Milan. Chyna didn’t even want to know the lengths he had gone to in order to acquire the sixteenth-century Italian theatre for the evening.

“Chyna,” Giovanna cooed in her thick Italian accent, “the limo has arrived.”

Chyna certainly wouldn’t miss this about Milan. She had never had a roommate in her life and certainly not three. The fact that they could just waltz into her room at any given time—like right now when she was completely naked—irritated the shit out of her. Didn’t they have any common decency? As it turned out, no, they didn’t. Apparently, walking around nude was commonplace for models, especially European models. She didn’t particularly have anything against it, but she preferred to choose when people saw her naked.

“Coming,” Chyna told her. She picked out a pair of fit dark-wash jeans and a plain, white, V-cut T-shirt with four-inch pumps. She would be dolled up soon enough.

Giovanna was the polar opposite of Chyna. She was blonde, blue-eyed, and pale with the quintessential sweet and innocent vibe. She did, however, manage to look like a complete and total hooker any time she dressed herself. She wore a pleated miniskirt that failed to cover her ass, a black lace bustier, and six-inch heeled booties. A white blazer hung from her finger, but Chyna knew she would never cover herself up that much.

Brigitte had gone for simple as well with a white tank tucked into high-waist shorts and Hermès sandals. It had been rumored that she would be the spokesmodel for their next collection.

On the other hand, Ravenna just looked fierce no matter what she wore. As much as Chyna liked Ravenna, she was a certified bitch, who was technically too big to be one of Marco’s girls. But, she had been a favorite two years ago, and she was so spectacular on camera. With her fiery, dark red hair, deep compelling eyes, and uncontrollable curves, it was hard to resist her.

The foursome exited the penthouse, and they were whisked away in the black stretch limo. As they approached La Scala Theatre, Chyna realized how much she was dreading the coming evening. She had wanted to be the centerpiece of the show so desperately, and now that it was here, she was reconsidering. She wasn’t nervous exactly, but everything had evolved so quickly that it was completely out of her control. She wasn’t sure how to get it all back without doing something drastic, and that wasn’t a particularly appealing option.

The drive was shorter than she would have liked, and soon, they were before the grand structure. Chyna had been here once before as a child. Her parents had been together then, and the ballet had been stunning. She had tried her hand at ballet when she returned home, but she became easily bored when she didn’t look like the prima ballerinas overnight. Staring up at the gorgeous castle-like building, her memories made her wish that she had stuck with it.

Chyna followed the other girls out of the limo, and in an instant, Giselle, Marco’s personal assistant, was before them. She was all legs with sky-high heels and a too short dress accentuating her very best feature. Diamonds glittered everywhere on her—strings of them around her neck, giant round ones in her ears, rings covering her fingers, and some even peeked out of her hair piece that was placed carefully in her dark brown hair. It appeared diamonds had actually been sewn into the glittering bodice of her dress. The rules about moderation had never applied to her.

“Come along. Come along,” she said, not halting to see if they followed.

The girls kept up with her easy pace, following her to an enormous door leading into the building. A flurry of activity was already underway when they found the dressing area.

Two dozen models were being fit into an array of clothing sets for the fashion show. A few models were walking around in flowing designer gowns. Several were wearing glittering lingerie, tastefully constructed for the evening. Still others were helped into animal print bodysuits and barely there bathing suits. Makeup artists were painting faces to match, accent, and highlight the garments. Blow dryers went off around the room as hairstylists brushed and sprayed their locks into submission. If Chyna didn’t know better, she would have thought it was all chaos.

“Brigitte, Ravenna, Giovanna, go to hair and makeup,” Giselle snapped. “Chyna, Marco would like to see you in his office.”

The girls were already eyeing her suspiciously, but Chyna ignored them and followed Giselle. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be called into private sessions with Marco, and they knew it. Still, after three weeks of one-on-one attention, her stomach still clenched at the possibilities. Powerful men hardly unnerved her—she had grown up with one after all—but Marco was different somehow. He had the authority to give her everything she wanted, but more importantly, he had the power to take it all away.

“Marco had your costume moved back here,” Giselle explained as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Wonderful,” she said dryly.

“Are you not grateful?” Giselle snapped.

Chyna should have known better than to act like this around Giselle. She would have killed for the opportunity to model for Marco, but Giselle just didn’t have it.

“More than grateful,” Chyna said, keeping the lilt out of her voice.

Giselle sneered anyway. Chyna wanted to tell her how unattractive that was. She would have been able to do that if it had been Alexa.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

“Yes?” Giselle asked, raising her eyebrows at the profanity.

“Nothing.”

Chyna hadn’t called Alexa in over a week. What a shitty best friend. She had been so wrapped up in her modeling and Milan and Marco that it had slipped her mind. She would be sure to call her soon. What was the time difference to Atlanta again? She scrunched up her nose. She was bad at these kinds of things. Whatever. She would make it work.

“Hey, do I have time for a phone call?”

“What?” Giselle demanded.

“Do I have time?”

“Certainly not. You’re late as it is.”

Chyna sighed. Another time then. She felt bad, but she pushed the thoughts aside. She would call her when she could. Alexa had never expected more than that. Plus, she was probably in a la-la land with her Ramsey. She just hoped that Alexa was avoiding his bitch sister and Jack—well, that was a given. Though, at least Chyna understood that maddening obsession…kind of.

“Here you are, darling,” Giselle said, pointing at a door labeled Director.

“Grazie.” Chyna thanked her gratefully.

Giselle’s smile quirked at Chyna’s clipped Italian accent, but she acknowledged her no less before departing, “Prego.”

Chyna turned toward the rustic door with a solid gold placard and knocked.

“Come in,” Marco called in a beautiful Italian accent.

His voice was out of this world. Chyna’s body warmed at the sound.

She opened the door to the director’s office and found Marco sitting among a collage of tutus, sequins, and fabrics.

Her eyes darted to the massive hardwood desk, and she smirked. A long black costume bag hung against the back wall with a shiny gold imprint marked on the top. She would recognize Marco’s handiwork anywhere, even without being able to read his glossy name from a distance.

Finally, her eyes returned to the man behind the desk. He was staring at her with those deep chocolaty eyes like a predator feasting its gaze upon its prey. He stood, almost regally, from the desk upon her entrance. His square jaw, those broad shoulders, and cut waistline were perfection. He could have modeled, but he was just as talented in design, business, and behind the camera. He had shaved his ever present five o’clock shadow, and his brown hair was slicked back so it wouldn’t fall into his eyes like she was so accustomed to. It had been cropped much shorter when she had first arrived. He was way past due for a haircut, but she thought the longer look suited him.

“My star,” Marco muttered.

He had begun calling her that after their first late night photo shoot, centered near a large, open window in his apartment. He had told her that she outshined the stars in the background of the photos. As far as he was concerned, she would be his brightest star. He had been calling her his star often enough that it was now her pet name.

“Marco,” Chyna said huskily, closing the door behind her.

As conflicted as she was away from him, when she was in his presence, he was like a heady perfume. The sweetest aroma in the world.

“You’re late,” he said sternly, with a glimmer in his eye.

“Marginally,” she volleyed, walking toward him while he still stood imposingly behind the desk.

Oh God, that desk.

“You haven’t even seen hair and makeup, and you smell like sunscreen,” he chided.

“Can you smell me from all the way over there?” she asked, walking a slow catwalk toward him.

“Don’t think I don’t know all.”

“I’d never entertain the idea,” she murmured.

She focused on the lessons he had given her about her runway walk—one foot in front of the other, relax your hands, move your body naturally, smooth out that step, smile through your eyes.

“That one,” he pointed crassly, pointing out the second step on her left foot. “That’s the step you rush every time.”

“After four weeks of detailed scrutiny, don’t you think I know which step I falter?” Chyna snapped instinctively. She chewed on her bottom lip as his eyes hardened perceptively.

“What was that?” he asked sharply.

“Nothing. Never mind,” she said quickly, realizing her fuck up.

She was always so brash with everyone. Having a boss was not something she was used to, especially when it was someone like Marco.

“Get your ass over here,” he demanded, pointing at the desk.

Chyna tried not to smile. It would only set him off more. God, did she enjoy doing that. She trailed her hand along the fine piece of carpentry, wondering how old the desk was and if she could acquire it for her penthouse at home. Frederick would freak over it.

“By all means, take your time,” Marco growled.

As she slowly rounded the desk, he reached out and gripped her arm, lurching her forward into him. She swallowed hard.

This was his favorite part—taking control.

2

Present

“Were you talking back to me?” he asked into her ear, nipping her earlobe.

Chyna melted. She would do anything for a domineering guy. It was so her type.

“Yes,” she whispered into his chest. She loved that he towered over her, even when she wore heels.

“That’s what I thought. You never learn your lesson. I almost think you like it,” he said, his hand fisting softly into her hair. “Do you like it?”

She was having trouble remembering what she was supposed to say as her body pressed up against him. “Yes.”

“You enjoy infuriating me?” he questioned, pulling harder on her hair.

“Oh no! No, Marco. That’s not what I meant.” She nearly groaned. He was so fucking sexy.

“Bend over the desk,” he told her.

“Marco,” she murmured shaking her head. We have no time for this.

“Bend over the fucking desk,” he repeated slowly.

“The Ball—”

“Do you want me to force you?”

Did she ever!

Chyna couldn’t hold the smirk back, and it set him off like it always did. His left hand tightened in her hair, and he used that as leverage to grab her hip with his right hand, turning her around to bend her face first into the desk. Her breathing was heavy, and her lower half was pulsing. She felt the walls of her sex tightening in anticipation.

He released her hair and ran his hands down her sides, across her taut ass, and between her inner thighs. His touch was intoxicating as his hands splayed her legs farther and farther apart. She thought about reminding him how little time they really had, but she wanted nothing but his hands on her at the moment.

“Don’t worry,” Marco spoke softly as he returned to a standing position. “I won’t leave marks, not when you’ll be wearing that costume.“

She could hear the need in his voice, and she was sure he could feel her body revving up at his touch. She wanted to ask to feel him, even if only through her jeans, but he wouldn’t want her to just yet. Later, he’d make her beg. He’d make her want to beg.

The first blow was always the worst. He didn’t like to warm her up to it, and he never told her when it was coming. The smack across her ass wasn’t the hardest she had ever received, but she still released a small yelp as her body went forward onto the desk. Marco was already making it better, rubbing the site of his hand mark, easing her discomfort. She would be feeling that one later.

The second and third came together nearly equal in force to the first, and they were just as unexpected. She clenched her jaw to keep from yelling out again.

That hurt like a bitch, but she was so turned on.

He was attentive to her pain, rubbing the area again, while his right hand traveled between her legs. She moaned at the blending of pleasure and pain from his experienced touch.

He slapped her ass again, harder than before. She whimpered, never knowing if she wanted him to stop or continue.

“You’re my little star.”

She nodded her head. She was seeing stars.

“Just the way I fucking like her—that nice piece of ass high in the air and pussy screaming my name,” he said, stroking her more demandingly before landing another blow. “Star?”

“Uh huh?” she all but moaned in anticipation as his hand came down another time. God, yes!

“You were a bad girl. You like me fucking punishing you? Do you like this?” he asked, his hand coming down hard and quick.

Chyna wondered if it really would leave a mark, but at this point, she couldn’t care less. She had other things on her mind.

His hand fisted in her hair, tugging on it hard enough to pull her head back, her back arching. He teased her, smacked her lightly, as he pressed against her just like she had wanted. She felt his erection against her ass, and she gyrated her hips.

“You like when I show you how bad you are?”

She responded by grinding her ass harder against him.

“Star?” he cooed, slapping her ass until she stopped moving. “You clearly like me punishing you. Do you like being punished or teased?”

She bit her lip hard and waited for the spanking she knew she deserved when she didn’t answer. It was an exhilarating feeling, knowing how much he was enjoying himself while he aroused her growing climax.

Marco’s hand returned to play between her legs, and she gasped as her head was released back to the desk. Another smack hit her ass hard. “Answer me. Do you like to be punished or teased?”

“Both,” she managed to get out. God, he did things to her that were unbelievable. Her body was on fire. She would have pleaded for release if he would give it to her.

“That’s right. You like both, and I like both,” he said, rubbing her ass between both of his hands. He moved them to her hips and forced her back against his dick.

“Please,” she sputtered out, losing control and begging.

He ran himself up and down the crease of her jeans and across her covered opening. “I love to hear you beg. You want me to fuck you?”

“God, yes, please! Marco,” Chyna moaned, “fuck me.”

“I’m not sure you want me enough,” he said, pressing harder and hitting her ass again.

“Marco, please, make me come. Please, God!” she cried as he massaged the area.

He sighed, almost resigned to giving her what she wanted, as he knelt behind her. He trailed kisses across her butt and down between her legs. Breathing hot between her legs, he made her tremble with desire, and she fought desperately to not take control of the situation. Slowly, painfully slow, Marco backed away from Chyna, who was still lying out across the desk. A shiver ran up her spine from his absence. He landed one more blow before walking away.

“See how good you’re being. I wish I could finish you. I fucking want you on this desk, but I have a show to run,” he said in a low guttural tone. “Now, don’t move that tight ass until I leave. I like to see it up in the air. However, you do need to get dressed. I’d prefer you wear nothing and show off your real beauty, but there’s something to be said for a little mystery. Don’t you think, my gorgeous star?”

She whimpered. “Yes.”

“You better not get yourself off when I leave.” Leaning down over her from the other side of the desk, he growled into her ear, “I’m coming for you after the show.”

Chyna waited a few seconds after the door clicked shut before righting herself.

The bastard! Leaving her there all alone and desperate for an orgasm. She wanted to go find the first guy she could and fuck him senseless, just for payback. No one left her wanting. No one!

She made it halfway across the room before she changed her mind. Yes, she wanted to kill him, but now wasn’t the time. As much as she wanted to forget her obligations, she was still the centerpiece of the Glam Ball. If she ever wanted to keep modeling, she needed the Ball, and she needed Marco. She turned around angrily and stomped back to the big fucking desk. What a big fucking asshole!

Chyna opened her clutch and fished out her cell phone while she waited for help. No way could she get into that outfit alone.

“Chyna?” Lexi asked, yawning into the phone. “What time is it over there?”

“Hey, chica.” Chyna breathed. See, she’s a good friend. “Not sure, like ten or eleven.”

“Jesus.” She yawned again. “And, you’re not drunk?” Lexi giggled.

“Bitch.”

“You love me.”

“I miss you.”

“I won’t miss seven-thirty wake-up calls,” Lexi said, yawning again.

“Sorry.”

“When do you come home? I need your ass in New York.”

At the mention of her ass, Chyna cringed and rubbed her sore backside. “Not sure on that either. Soon? Wait!” she cried. “What are you doing in New York? I thought you moved in with Ramsey.”

“Uh…” Lexi hesitated.

Oh fuck! What had she missed?

“I moved back. We broke up,” she explained.

“What?” Chyna asked in a shrill tone. See what happened when she didn’t call for a week. “Why the fuck did you break up? You were cookie-cutter perfect a week ago.”

“Um…well, my dad had a heart attack, and I found out that Ramsey is a compulsive liar.”

“Oh God, is your dad okay? Are you okay?” Chyna asked quickly.

“Yeah, my dad’s fine. I don’t know if I am though. Ramsey dated Parker. They almost got married in college, Chyna.”

“Hold up. Let’s back this shit up. I thought he’d never had a girlfriend.”

“Me too.”

“Bastard!” Chyna was using the word a lot lately.

“Also, he got me the job in Atlanta and never told me he pulled strings. I don’t know, C. Just seems pretty fucked-up when Jack is the one comforting me.”

Chyna groaned. Did she say she understood that obsession? “At least you have one constant,” she replied sarcastically.

Lexi laughed at the statement. “He’s getting married, Chyna. He’s not my constant anymore.”

“Uh huh. Don’t sound so sad about it.”

“Oh, shut up. It’s Jack.”

“Don’t I know it?”

“Anyway,” Lexi drawled out, “how is Milan? Anything new?”

Besides her aching backside?“I’m about to change into my outfit for Glam Ball. It starts in an hour or so,” Chyna told her.

“Are you still the focus or whatever? That’s a pretty killer opportunity.”

“Yeah. I am.”

“And…” Lexi prompted.

Damn, she knew her too well.

“There’s this fashion designer—“

Lexi immediately started laughing. “Of course there is.”

“Whatever, chica. I don’t know what to do about him.” Chyna hated admitting it. As furious as she was with Marco, she wasn’t sure she actually wanted to give up whatever they had.

“Give him up and come home.” Chyna wished it was that easy. “New York is where you’re meant to be. You own New York City,” Lexi reminded her. “I didn’t think any guy would change that.”

“It’s not that he’s changing that.” Man, it was weird for Alexa to be the one giving advice. “He’s just a complication.”

“Speaking of complicated—” Lexi began.

“What else have you gotten yourself into?”

“Not me! I’m talking about your complicated. I’ve been hanging out with Adam lately…”

The sentence hung in the silence. Chyna tried to push Adam out of her brain. She didn’t need to think about him. They had made the right choice in breaking it off before she left. She wasn’t a good girlfriend in New York, so she would be a terrible one halfway across the world. Why was she even still thinking about Adam?

She couldn’t help it though. “How is he doing?”

“He’s all right, C. We’ve been an interesting pair this past week—two heart-torn lovers and all,” she said with a giggle. Chyna couldn’t miss it, not from Alexa.

“Sorry I couldn’t be there. I’d totally watch you veg on pot after pot of black coffee and gallons of double chocolate, chocolate chip ice cream.”

“While you ate carrots and complained about being fat?”

“Only when I am fat,” she told her, knowing full well that she was far from fat.

“Miss you, C,” Lexi said softly. “I miss my no-nonsense best friend.”

Was that her? Then, why did she take nonsense from every guy she actually thought she wanted?

A knock on the door brought her back to reality. Tonight was Glam. “I miss you, too, Alexa. I’ll be home before you know it, and I’ll let you drag me to Serendipity despite the calories. But, right now, I have a show to put on.”

3

Past

“Frederick, darling, don’t you love this?” Chyna asked, pointing at a crystal-cut vase.

“Don’t you have one like that already?” he asked, placing a hand on his hip.

God, why did he have to be gay?

“Don’t act like you know my entire collection.”

“Honey, I fucking picked out your collection. Remember who has the good taste in the relationship. If I leave you alone, you’ll probably strip down the black leather sofas again and add animal print and bamboo,” he cried dramatically.

“Then, don’t leave me again, fucker,” she said, walking away from the crystal display.

“Don’t be such a cunt then,” he said as a matter-of-fact.

She loved him! Any man who used the c-word as a compliment was someone she could appreciate.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do you want to get lunch? I know this incredible vegan cuisine a block from here. To die for. I took my boyfriend, Dallas—”

Chyna groaned, interrupting his statement.

“—there last week. Also, shut up, hooker. And, he fell in love!”

“With you or the food?”

“Well, when I took him home and fucked his brains out…me.”

“Well played.”

“Thank you,” he said with a knowing smirk. “So, lunch?”

“I can’t. I have to meet my boyfriend, Adam—”

Frederick groaned, mimicking her.

“Adam. Also, groan all you want. Take me on a silver platter at your convenience,” she said, spreading her arms wide.

“You couldn’t handle it, sweetheart.” He patted her arm sympathetically.

“Bring it,” she challenged.

Frederick just laughed and followed her out of the boutique. They walked arm and arm down Madison Avenue. Chyna wrapped her cashmere scarf tighter around her neck, bracing against the winter temperatures. They both paused before the new store being constructed on their favorite stretch of Madison.

There was an endless amount of buzz about the new store. An up-and-coming Italian designer had broken Madison before he turned thirty years old. She had hardly been able to believe it until his one-of-a-kinds started circulating in her group of friends. She had been shocked by their style, elegance, and creativity. Today, they had unveiled the gorgeous, shiny gold sign that topped the Italian boutique—Marco’s.

She practically salivated at the store. It was more than perfect. It was her—everything she loved and more.

“Fuck. I can’t wait to get my hands on those clothes,” she said.

“You and everyone else in the city, hun.”

“Why haven’t I requested him to commission something for me yet?” she asked Frederick, reluctantly walking away from the display.

“Probably because he’s not taking orders,” he reminded her.

“Right. Damn. Bad timing for him to go pre-made on me,” she complained.

“Yes, how inconsiderate of him to expand his career. Doesn’t he know better?” Frederick asked with dripping sarcasm.

“I know, right?! Doesn’t he know who I am?”

“I doubt men with that much drive care, sweetie.”

“I’d make him care,” she said with a knowing smirk.

“You’d just get your ass in trouble.”

“Probably,” she agreed with a giggle. “But, I like trouble.”

“Don’t we all?”

“Anyway, girlfriend duties to attend to. Got to go, lover.” She kissed both of his cheeks before darting across the street to her waiting town car.

Chyna hopped in the backseat and rode off of Madison Avenue. She was supposed to meet Adam at the gym, and then they were going to go get lunch. She was a little early, but that was all right. She liked to see him all sweaty.

Rounding the corner toward the New York Sports Club, her driver pulled up in front of the building.

“You don’t have to wait today, Carl. Adam likes to drive for some unknown reason. Take the rest of the night off.”

“Thank you, Miss Chyna. Have a nice night.”

“You, too, Carl.”

Chyna exited the town car and rushed quickly into the empty gym. The attendant waved her through. She had been here enough that they all recognized her now.

“I think he’s on the basketball courts,” the young perky blonde directed.

She couldn’t have been older than eighteen. Probably getting lost in the city, trying to pursue her dream. Chyna wondered what that was like. She had never loved anything enough to do that.

Pushing aside those thoughts, she opened the door to the courts and entered, slipping silently into the room. Adam was there with one other guy playing one-on-one ball. Both guys were covered in sweat, drenching through their cut-off shirts. Adam’s longish hair was a mop, sticking to his forehead and slinging around as he attempted to maneuver around his opponent. He was so cute and aggressive when he didn’t know she was watching.

Her eyes moved to his opponent just as he stole the ball from Adam. Her eyebrows rose when she got a closer look at him. Hello! Excuse me, who the hell was he?He was even in height with Adam but broader. Gah, those shoulders!His hair was very short brown, almost military cut, but it worked for him. And, tattoos—she was such a sucker for well-placed tattoos. She could see one etched into the inside of his left bicep, and when he raised his arms, another one was written across the side of his right ribs. Where else do you have those?

Tattoo Guy pulled a sharp pivot move on Adam, passed him, and did a layup, scoring. “Game,” he said, raising his eyebrows and that lovely left arm into the air.

Hmm…what was written there?

“Fuck!” Adam cried. “I hate that move.”

“Gets you every time,” he said with a lazy smile.

Oh, this guy was used to winning. Interesting. She knew Adam was really, really good.

Breaking the confrontation, Chyna walked her heeled feet on the court. The clicking noise ground both of them to a halt. They turned to her at once. Adam smiled. The other guy’s eyebrows lifted.

Yep, there it was—interest.

“Hey, baby,” Adam said, rushing over to her with a big goofy grin on his face. He brushed a kiss across her lips, careful not to get her sweaty.

“Hey,” she said, breaking into a smile. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to introduce you two, but there was never a good moment. This is my older brother, John.”

Well, fuck.

“John, this is my girlfriend, Chyna.”

“Nice to meet you,” John said, sticking out his right hand.

She shook it, making eye contact. Well, it was still there. Perhaps, John was thinking fuck, too. Adam’s brother was gorgeous. There were similarities between the two, but fucking hell if John wasn’t exactly the kind of guy she normally went for. Just her type.

“You, too. I didn’t realize you were in town.”

“Yeah, I have the long weekend off before I have to fly to Japan on business.”

“Oh, interesting. So glad Adam clued me in,” she said, glancing at her boyfriend.

“Can’t be mad at him. I never told him. I just never know when I’ll be in the city.”

“Ah,” she said with a smile.

“Hey, we’re going to go clean up, and then let’s get lunch. We won’t be long,” Adam told her.

“All right. I’ll just wait out front.”