Final Call

Chapter Ten

I step back silently, allowing her to pass through, and follow her into my living room. She walks around it, her eyes examining every last detail, her heels snapping against the hardwood floor.
I fold my arms across my chest and pin her with my stare. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re a hard woman to find, Dayton Black. Or is it Mia Lopez? I’m not sure if there’s a difference between the two.”
“Don’t f*ck around, Naomi. Say what you have to say or get the hell out of my house.”
She pushes her bangs back from her face and perches on my sofa.
“Please, take a seat. Make yourself at home.” I wave to her. “Perhaps you’d like to remove your shoes and have a coffee while you’re here?”
Naomi smirks. And it’s not a kind one. It’s a malicious twist of her lips that makes my skin crawl. “Does Aaron know?”
“Does Aaron know what?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“That his precious Dayton is a common whore.”
“Oh, please. Give me some credit. I’m at least an upper-class whore.”
Her tongue flicks across her bottom lip. “I’ll guess he does.”
“And this matters why?”
She sighs and stands again, resting her hands on her hips. “I’m wondering how problematic it would be for you if your little…alter ego…was forced to step from the shadows.”
I straighten. Every nerve on my body is on high alert at her discreet threat. Adrenaline is buzzing through my veins, and I hit Naomi with a sharp stare that would make any other woman shrink back.
“What exactly are you insinuating?”
“Could you imagine the repercussions of your identity being revealed?” She runs a fingertip along my windowsill. “The effect that would have on Aaron and the business… The CEO of Stone Advertising dating a call girl.” She tsks, shaking her head.
I step toward her, anger making my hands tremble, and stare at her dead-on. “I’m not sure what kind of manipulation and mind games happen in the modeling world, but you should be aware that I’m not a face-scratching or hair-pulling kind of girl. If I were you, Naomi, I’d get to the point quickly. I’m not the most patient woman in the world, and you’re wearing what little patience I do possess down rather fast.”
“The fashion world is fickle. If it was to be made public that Aaron was dating an escort, virtually every designer in existence would boycott the company. That would be followed by their remaining clients. You’re a taboo subject, Dayton. Your existence is a cause of disgust for many people… Including me.” She looks at me with that disgust written over her face in the curl of her lip.
“I can safely say the feeling is mutual.”
That smirk appears back on her face.
“Your point, Naomi?”
“My point? Ah, yes.” She walks around me, swaying her hips like the model she is. “The outcome of our marriage wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for. And signing the Stone contract in front of me? That was underhanded.” She sighs. “That’s by the by… But like I said, the settlement was less than I was hoping for. Before he took over Stone, he was worth twenty-five million alone from his stake in the company, various investments, and smart business decisions. By the end of next year, he’ll push the company over the billion-dollar threshold. Seven and a half million isn’t nearly enough, don’t you agree?”
I purse my lips. “Oh, I agree. It’s far too much.”
She holds my stare for a moment. “We signed an agreement that, in the case of a divorce, I would be entitled to half of what he was worth on the day we married. That was ten million.”
“So you already have more than you should.”
She ignores me. “That agreement was ridiculous, but the marriage was a clever move for us both, so I agreed. Of course, when he increased his worth exponentially throughout our marriage, five million was a meager amount.”
“My underwear lasts longer than your marriage did.”
She ignores me. “I was pushing for fifteen, but I would have been happy with ten. He only signed the amount he did to get it over with. I had no choice but to sign it if I didn’t want it to go to court.” She sighs again and taps her finger against her lips.
“My patience is close to exhaustion, Naomi.”
“I want the final two-point-five mil. I want what I helped him achieve.”
A sick feeling settles in my stomach. “And if you don’t get it?”
“Aaron is very good at keeping his private life away from the media. I have the contacts to expose every dirty secret you have, Dayton, and take several others down with you. Aaron and the business would be an unfortunate fall, I admit, but sometimes you can’t avoid these things.” She smiles, but there isn’t an ounce of friendliness in it. Just malice and spite and greed. Everything Carly said to me last night has been proven true by the woman standing before me.
“Are you threatening me?”
“Do you think I am?”
I walk to her, once again stopping in front of her. “Get out of my house.”
“I’d prefer Aaron didn’t know about this, so I’ll give you a month.” She looks me up and down. “I’m sure you can f*ck enough guys in that time to raise the money.”
I step closer to her again. “Get the f*ck out of my house. Now. Or I’ll throw you out.”
After a long second of her staring into my eyes, she turns on her heels and leaves, slamming the door behind her. I stare at the empty doorway she just passed through, my chest heaving with each ragged breath I take.
Angry tears burn the backs of my eyes. I don’t doubt her for a second. I know in my gut she’d go to the press just to spite us—to spite me.
I collapse on the sofa next to me. Do I even have anything close to that kind of money? I have savings, sure, and I know there’s a lot of money in there, but nothing close to what she’s asking for. And there’s no chance of me going out and working for it.
Shit! Am I really considering paying that bitch off?
Yeah. Yeah, I am. Because of Aaron. Because if it means protecting him and the business, the business he and his father grew together, then yes. I’d pay her off.
I’d do just about anything to protect him.

***

My first thought when my financial planner informs me that there’s four hundred and forty thousand dollars sitting in my investment account is why the hell I haven’t paid off my mortgage yet.
My second is a resounding F*ck.
That’s also the first word I mutter when I leave the building, discreetly tucking the printed slip into my bra.
I can barely believe I’m considering this—that I’m here, getting the information I need to fulfill her f*cked-up request. I don’t think I’ve yet truly processed our conversation.
I mean, shit. The woman walked into my house and blackmailed me. In my own f*cking house!
I lean against the wall and press my fingers to my temple, rubbing harshly. My head is throbbing from the events of today. Hell, it’s throbbing from the events of the last few weeks.
I get into my car and pull out of the parking lot. The journey passes in a blur with seemingly no time passing at all when I arrive back at my house. Words and threats and promises and hopes swirl in my mind, each of them crashing into each other until the throb becomes a relentless pound.
I park and scramble into my house. My cell and keys hit the table with a clunk, and I run upstairs to the bathroom. I twist the bath taps until they’re on full power and peel my clothes away.
There’s barely any water in the tub, but I climb in anyway. The hot and cold water mingles at my feet. I watch as the level slowly rises, and I lean forward, hugging my thighs to my chest.
I can feel the thump of my heart against my legs, the hectic rise and fall of my chest. And the fear. The very real fear, racing through my body and taking hold of me.
The fear of losing everything.
Of losing my control. Of losing the relationship I have belief in. Of losing the man I love.
But if I leave him, Naomi loses her trump card.
If I leave him, he’s safe. She can’t hurt him or the business.
If I leave him, I’ll slowly but surely destroy us both.
I dig my fingernails into the inside of my thighs. That isn’t an option. We have things to work through and things to prove, but I can’t walk away from how far we’ve come or how far we have to go.
I turn off the taps, lie back, and sink beneath the water. It sloshes around me as I move, and I lift my legs out of the tub and rest them on the edge. I lean up for a breath before dropping my face back down again.
Beneath the water, it’s silent, and it quiets the crazy in my mind. It calms the beating of my heart until it settles to the steady rhythm I know so well, and the tension seeps from my body in the hot water.
Two hands grab my arms and lift me from the water. “Jesus, Dayton!”
Aaron pulls me into his chest. I’m still sitting in the water and he’s still in his suit. His hands shake against my bare back.
“What the f*cking hell were you doing?” he rasps into my wet hair, holding me tight.
“Relaxing,” I whisper.
“You know most people watch TV or have a glass of wine, right? They don’t ignore their calls and submerge themselves in water.”
“I’m not most people.” I wriggle from his hold and climb from the tub.
He hands me two towels. I wrap my hair in one and the other around my body before walking into my bedroom.
“I know that. Shit, Day.” He grabs me again. “I’ve been calling you for an hour. I’ve been so worried about you.”
“Wait. How did you get in? You didn’t bash the door down like you did on the boat, did you?”
Aaron pulls back, a smile on his face despite the worry in his eyes. “No, I didn’t break your door down, sweetheart. You didn’t lock it.”
I bite my lip. “Oops.”
He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
A thought crosses my mind. “How did you get my new number?”
“Irrelevant.” He dismisses it with a wave of his hand.
I grab some underwear and walk back into my room to find him leaning against my headboard, his jacket discarded and his shoes kicked off on my floor.
“Mmph. Okay.” I clasp my bra and slide my thong up my legs. “I was in the bath and didn’t hear it ringing upstairs.”
“For a whole hour?”
“Time ran away from me. I had a bad day.” I rub my hair with the towel and grab the dryer from the top of the dresser. The bed creaks behind me, and a second later, Aaron’s hand closes around mine.
“What happened?”
“Just stuff.” I shrug and turn on the hairdryer. Aaron flicks the switch on the wall, cutting the hot air.
“Dayton.”
I meet his eyes in the mirror. “I had a bad day. It sucked. End of discussion.”
Something in my tone must tell him that pushing me won’t work this time, because he backs off with a sigh. I lean over, turn the power back on, and perch on the end of the bed.
I can feel his eyes on my back as I blast my hair dry. The irony of this situation doesn’t escape me. I’m holding out on him and berating him for keeping something from me, yet here I am doing the exact same thing.
And the same woman is at the center of both.
I should turn around and tell him. I should tell him about her showing up and blackmailing me—but that will do nothing except give her what she wants. I know that, when it comes down to it, Aaron will do whatever it takes.
He already said that there isn’t a price he wouldn’t pay for me.
Two and a half million is a steep price, but he’d pay it without blinking.
I don’t want him to do that. I don’t want her to have that control over him any longer. She held that for long enough, dictating and holding back on something that should have been sorted. She controlled far too much of his life for far too long.
Now, the only person who gets to have any semblance of control over him is me.
I place the hairdryer back on top of the dresser and run my brush through my hair. He’s still sitting on the bed, and now his tie is sitting on my nightstand. The top button of his shirt is open, but my focus is on the material stretching across his shoulders and the way it clings to his body. It’s on the smatter of dark hair peeking over the top of his shirt and the faint outline of his abs. It’s on the pleasure and release I know he can provide. The release I know he will selflessly provide me.
The few seconds of pure nothing.
He rests his cell facedown next to his tie and peers at me through heavy eyelids when I crawl up the bed. His eyes darken, roaring with heat, when I straddle him and grab his collar.
“Dayton.” My name is a low growl, a warning, a threat, a promise.
I roughly press my lips to his, and his hands slide up my thighs and curve round my ass. My tongue flicks against his lips, demanding they part for me, and I slide my hands in his hair. I tug a little, pressing my core against him, and he groans.
Our tongues meet in a heated desperation driven solely by me. If I’ve ever needed him, truly craved his touch, it’s right now. I need the sweet release and spiral of bliss I know Aaron can provide for me.
His fingers dig into my backside, holding my hips to his. His erection presses against me and I rub against him, each gyrate of my hips hardening his ready cock further. I make quick work of the buttons of his shirt and shove it over his shoulders. His skin is smooth and hot beneath my fingertips as I run them down his body to his belt. My knuckles brush my throbbing * as I unbuckle it.
I shove his boxers down with his trousers, leaving them around his knees, and reach between us. I wrap my fingers around the silky pink skin of his shaft and stroke him almost roughly. Aaron groans again and grabs my hand, moving it so the head of his cock rubs against my *.
My juices coat him in seconds, and when the first clench takes over my body, I ease myself onto him instead.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans into my shoulder.
I wind my fingers back in his hair and move against him. My lips part and my breathing speeds at each movement. This isn’t like before—even when it’s been rougher. There was always endless passion and seduction.
This is pure, raw need. This is hard and fast, and when he grabs my hips, stilling me, and pounds into me frantically, it’s almost brutal. There’s nothing romantic or flowery about the way our skin slaps together, and my cries are swallowed by his rough kisses and nibbles at my lips.
There’s nothing beautiful about this, except everything that shouldn’t be.
I explode with a loud moan and my teeth sinking into his shoulder. He roars his own release, slamming into me one last time. He drops his hips to the bed, lowering mine with his, still buried deep inside me.
I press my face into his neck and tightly wrap my arms around him. His own hands stroke across my back, fingers splayed, one at the small of my back and the other resting between my shoulder blades.
Aaron kisses along my shoulder, each kiss softer than the last. Each kiss holding the feelings neither of us displayed just a moment ago.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t plan to do that.”
“Shh,” he says into my hair. “You needed to let go. I was here. I don’t begrudge you that.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Goddamn him for being so wonderful and understanding and him.
“My day was awful, and I just… I don’t know.”
“You needed control back.”
I nod and sit up. I brush my thumb over his cheek and along his jaw, my eyes following the path of it. Guilt eats at me inside, but I batter it down. I kiss him once and get off him, heading into the bathroom to clean up. Aaron follows me in.
“Have you eaten tonight?”
I shake my head and throw my panties in the laundry basket. “No. I’m starving.”
“I brought takeout, but it’s probably cold by now.” He shoots a wickedly sexy smirk my way, and my cheeks flush a little. “Blushing?”
I duck into my lingerie room and slip on another pair of panties before deciding to answer that. “You, Mr. Stone, are the only man in existence who can make me blush.”
“I happen to enjoy making you blush very much, Miss Black. I’ll strive to do it more often.”
I roll my eyes and grab the cartons sitting on the kitchen side. “Baby, you can pin me against a wall and describe to me in explicit detail all the things you’d like to do to me with your tongue and your cock and I still wouldn’t blush. I said you can make me blush, but I didn’t say it was easy.”
I set the timer on the microwave oven at the same time Aaron wraps his arms around me.
“Baby,” he murmurs. “I have a soft spot for that.”
“Even though I only said it originally to annoy you?”
“Yes.” He turns my face to the side and brushes his lips against the corner of my mouth. “Do you usually dine in your lingerie?”
“Quite often.” I spin and run my finger down the middle of his stomach. “Would you prefer I put some clothes on?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
I smile and turn back to the oven at its ping. Aaron sits down, and I set the Chinese food between us.
“So. London,” I say after a few minutes.
Aaron nods. “You’ll come with me?”
“Since you’re asking, I suppose so.”
His eyes light up. “If I had known asking would make you so agreeable, I would have tried it before.”
“We both forget to ask sometimes.”
“I like your demanding. A lot.”
I throw a shrimp at him. “Watch it, baby. I’m more demanding than you know.”
Aaron raises his eyebrows and leans forward on his elbows, his eyes hot and his voice silky smooth. “I’m ready for anything you demand of me, Dayton. Anything.”