His slow smile was full of promise and sexual innuendo. He bent to her ear again. “Tease me all you want, Chlo. Because Saturday, I’m the one who’ll be teasing you.”
Four
Chloe woke up to Danny’s tickle torture and a loudly whistled birthday tune. Screeching when his fingers dove into the sensitive spot of her underarm, Chloe twisted in her bed sheets, wide awake now, and screamed, “No, Danny, no, stop!” until one leg kicked free and landed a good one right in his balls.
“Oooff!”
He collapsed on the side of the bed.
Chloe’s heart stopped. She groggily sat up and surveyed his motionless form in growing alarm. “Danny?”
He was hunched over, hardly even breathing, and then he growled, “I thought you’d want nephews in your future, goddamn it, Chloe!”
“I’m sorry,” she said, knee-walking over to hug him.
He attacked her with a laugh that indicated he had been acting this whole time and she squealed once more, flailing and kicking as he tortured her. “You cheater, you, stop it, you jerk, when I have a boyfriend I’m going to tell him to punch you!” she screamed, and then he pulled back with a frown, and Chloe frowned at herself, too. Because when she’d said “boyfriend” she’d pictured Graves’s dark, forbidden face in her mind.
And sadly Graves didn’t do girlfriends.
“Boyfriend?” Danny repeated the word in the disgusted tone he’d use to say “cow dung” as he straightened, already dressed for work in a sharp designer suit, his hair slicked back to reveal his sharp model features. “Is he the one who blows up your mouth like a goldfish? I don’t like that motherfucker. Give me his name again,” he demanded.
She smirked. “You won’t get it after this now.”
“Ah, little sis, your innocence astounds me. I’m going to get anything I ask for when you see your present,” he said cockily, brow raised as he handed her an all-access card for his Global Express jet worth a quarter of a million dollars.
An amount which would basically fly her … anywhere.
“Seriously, Danny?” The Lexington family owned a Gulfstream 650, powerful and luxurious and one of the best private jets money could buy, but Danny had his own jet, which was just as coveted but far, far edgier. He’d had it custom made with a huge flat-screen TV, a bar, WiFi, a bedroom in the back, a large sitting area up front, and speakers that would make you feel like Lady Gaga was right there flying with you while she sang her heart out. Danny’s jet was like a bar/disco on air and always ready to party.
“Yep, I’m dead serious, sis. Fly anywhere, invite your friends, have a blast, and put your hotel bills up on my black card.” He kissed her forehead, his green eyes—just like hers—twinkling in mischief. “Just be sure to call the pilots at least an hour in advance so they can have the flight plan ready.”
Chloe worried her lower lip. “Danny … I was going to spend the day here.”
He flashed his drop-dead grin that he was famous for and rumpled her hair. “Well, now you don’t have to stay here. Go to Vegas, Chlo. Hell, go to Monaco. Spend a week there.”
“But I’d rather stay here … today. If that’s okay.”
Thankfully, he didn’t read too much into her reluctance to go out and have a blast and enjoy her twenty-fifth birthday, for he shrugged easily. “Do it any day you’d like, then.” He nodded from the door, that heart-stopping, white smile still in place. “But have a happy birthday, all right?”
“I will,” Chloe promised as he left. She stole a look at the lone red rose in a simple crystal vase on her nightstand, and the butterflies burst to life in her stomach as she thought of Graves—and what they would be doing together today.
It was all she could think of, fantasize about, and dream of as she started her day, answering a thousand texts, Facebook messages, e-mails, and messages on her iPhone.
Then the presents came …
Her friends had donated a thousand dollars in her name to Global Giving. Her parents? A cool million and an unlimited shopping spree at Saks. Chloe spent a couple thousand on a pair of crystal Jimmy Choo stilettos, a kick-ass emerald-green Herve Leger bandage mini dress, a sexy Agent Provocateur black lace bra and panties, and a Brazilian wax.
She had lunch with seven of her friends, including her best friend Whitney Donahue, and afterward told them she couldn’t hang out anymore. Whitney, who was no fool by anyone’s standard, pulled her aside at the valet. “Hey, Vicky Secret, why so mysterious today?” she laughingly said.
Of course Whitney knew how Chloe felt about Graves, just as Chloe knew that under the gold bangles Whitney always wore, she had a man’s name written on her wrists.