“I’m okay,” I tell him. “Thank you though.”
His eyes wander to my phone, and instinctively I press the side button, darkening the screen.
Once he’s gone, I unlock the phone again, and pull up my messages.
Anything? You’ll have to be more specific.
Her message comes off as flirtatious, the hidden innuendo behind it sending a spark of arousal through me as I think of all the things I would love to do to her.
Still, this is new for us, and I am hesitant to come off too strong or move things too fast. Though she strikes me as a woman who would let go of the perfect, proper exterior she exudes, and I hope to test that theory.
Perhaps you should tell me what you would rather be doing, piccola ladra. I suspect you’re not doing anything exciting, since you are spending your time messaging me. What other ways would you rather be spending your time?
To my dismay, her response is not immediate. Myphone idles, darkening to sleep mode from its lack of use.
Crossing my ankle over my opposite knee, I keep my phone in hand, but turn my attention back to the lower level. Sully and his women are gone, but this time I spot Enzo and the woman from earlier.
Scrubbing my hand down my face, I groan. It’s never good when Sully disappears, but we’re not too far from our hotel, so I’ll walk if need be.
My phone vibrates again, and I waste no time reading the message.
I’d rather be spending time with you. Getting to know you in many different ways.
The sound of a curtain being pulled lifts my attention from the screen and I look behind me, seeing Sully walk in. To my surprise, he’s alone.
Swaying on his feet, he stumbles over to the couch and falls onto it, practically sitting on my lap in the process.
“Hiya,” he slurs loudly, tossing his arm around my shoulder. “Why have you been sitting up here like a lonely boy?”
Laughing, I peel his hand from my shoulder, shrug out from under it, and stand. “It might be time to get you back to the hotel, amico mio.”
Moving to the edge of the balcony, I pinpoint where Enzo is dancing and send him a text, letting him know it’s time to go. Moments later, he pulls out his phoneand reads it before looking up to where I’m standing. I gesture toward the entrance, and he nods in understanding, dipping his head to say something to the woman he’s dancing with.
My eyes sweep the balcony, looking to see if any of us have left any personal belongings behind before I return to Sully, helping him to his feet. “Let’s go.”
“Noooo! One more drink. Where’d that chick go?”
He’s dead weight against me as I sling his arm around my shoulder and help him move to the curtain so we can locate the elevators and leave.
“Shoulda known you’d be the party pooper, Sylvester Lucchetti.”
“If you weren’t such a sloppy drunk, maybe I’d be the one who could enjoy myself from time to time,” I retort, but my tone lacks conviction. I have no interest in drinking heavily, nor do I have an interest in meeting random women in clubs.
“Where’d my date go?” Sully asks on the elevator ride downstairs. He’s standing on his own, but leaning against the elevator wall, rubbing his temples. “Why’s it so bright in here?”
“You did not come with a date, you came with me and Enzo. The women you entertained this evening are not joining you back at the hotel. I’m afraid it’s just us tonight. Perhaps your hand will get lucky if you sober up.”
I look forward to the day where Sully meets a woman who completely brings him to his knees.
Sullivan Rochester is a good man,unlike so many of the men in Manhattan. He has a kind heart and genuinely cares about the people in his life. He doesn’t use them as pawns in the game of greed.
But he’s a partier. A womanizer.
Or as he’s been called a time or two, afuckboy.
The elevator dings, and when the doors open, Enzo is standing in front of them, waiting for us with a scowl on his face.
“Enzo!” Sully exclaims, stumbling out and into Enzo’s personal space.
