I didn't like being confused. I looked at Axel. A few minutes ago in the middle of the act I'd convinced myself he was some kind of soul mate, but now that I was thinking about it, how could that be? We didn't even know each other. I scolded myself: Just because a guy's cock fits your cooch doesn't make him a soul mate.
"Ricki?" He looked concerned. "Shower at Sakura's?"
Maybe I'd had more champagne than I'd realized. How else could I explain the temporary insanity that had taken over? I didn't like being bossed around by men! It was the worst thing about working in the entertainment industry. How could that be the thing that made me melt inside? It had made me forget all my responsibilities! That was a terrifying thought, that there was anything that could make me forget my responsibilities. I'm not one of those flirts, frivolous girls, or a fuck-up, I tried to tell myself. I'm not.
"Ricki," he tried again. "Earth to Ricki. Do you want to stop at Sakura's and have a shower?"
Time to go into crisis management mode. I was always cool under pressure, it's just that this time the crisis was raging inside my own skin. I waved my hand. "No. We'd better get to the Governor's Mansion." I just wanted to go home. Where I could be sure there were no snooping cell phone cameras and where we could go in the private entrance. "Where's my phone?"
He shrugged sheepishly. Adorably, damn him-he still looked gorgeous enough to eat, even if my ire was starting to grow as I thought of more and more reasons why this had been a terrible idea. He'd kidnapped me without my clutch purse. Or shoes. (They weren't even my shoes!) The phone, though-I felt naked without it, ironic as that might have been given the circumstances.
"Do you have yours?"
He shook his head, a grin spreading across his face.
For fuck's sake. "Does the driver at least have a cell phone?"
"I'm sure he does."
"Fine. Get on the horn. Have him call Sakura to meet us at the mansion, and then have him call my security department to get directions to bring us to the back gate. Relay him the number I give you."
"Yes, ma'am," he said with a chuckle and a mock salute.
"Sorry," I said when he was done with the phone call, when it occurred to me maybe it was a little rude to just boss a person around like that. "I'm … used to being in charge."
"Obviously," he said. He sighed and opened a storage compartment. "I guess I should make myself presentable."
I watched, somewhat fascinated, while he cleaned himself up with baby wipes and then put on a pair of jeans and an artfully torn T-shirt that he'd clearly stashed in the car earlier in the evening. They'd clearly planned out the whole stunt well in advance.
I looked at my own clothes. There was no way I was getting the upper part of the gown back on at this point. The entire thing was wrinkled beyond recognition and the zipper must have caught on something during the action because it was hanging loose. I picked up the strip of loose fabric from the floor.
"You ripped my actual bodice," I said, incredulous.
He looked me over with a possessive, appraising look. "So I did."
To think that even though I was getting angrier at him by the second, I felt a flutter of desire as his eyes traveled up and down my skin. "What are you going to do about it?" I snapped.
I wasn't expecting him to have a practical answer. "Wear this," he said, and handed me a black, button-down shirt.
He helped me to put it on and I wasn't sure if the delicious scent of him that wafted through me was from the shirt or the fact that he was now so close to me once again. His fingers came to rest lightly on the back of my hand …
The only way to fight the seductive pull of him was to let my anger loose. "So. Were you planning to have sex with Sakura in here tonight?"
"No, nothing like that. I knew I was going to want a costume change, though." He looked slightly puzzled but not defensive.
I pressed him. "Which is why you had a straight razor and a condom?"
His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Okay, first of all, the straight razor is for this 'bad boy' stubble I planned to get rid of before hitting parties tonight. And any smart guy keeps condoms in his shaving kit."
It didn't feel like he was lying, but I was in attack mode. "I want to see you shave with that straight razor. When we get to the mansion."
He raised his eyebrows. "As you wish, Your Highness. After all, it's your castle."
We rode in silence for a while.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"There's nothing to talk about. I'm fine," I insisted. In my mind other protests rose, but I kept my lips pressed firmly together. I'm an adult and I can handle my emotions, thank you. I'm not some schoolgirl who just lost her virginity. He gave a skeptical twitch of his eyebrow.
I picked up his hand very deliberately by the wrist and moved it over to his own leg, then moved over on the seat so that there was a good gap between us.
He folded his hands in his lap and looked away.
AXEL
Well, that was the fastest cold shoulder I'd ever experienced. I tried to play it cool, like it was no big deal that the woman I didn't want to stop touching was now acting like I wasn't fit to scrape the gunk off the bottom of her Gucci shoe.
Who was I kidding? She was Hollywood royalty. Which I guess made me the equivalent of a stable boy.
Christina had told me the first time I'd flown into Hollywood that this town was set up to do two things: inflate egos and batter them. I had no illusions about that, I thought. But a few minutes ago I'd been this woman's god. Now she was acting like I wasn't even there.
Ricki was twirling a lock of her hair beside her neck, looking at the window as if she could see anything through the blackout tinting. The sun had set and you couldn't make out much. Besides, we were on the freeway.
I stretched to see if she would glance my way. Nope. Not even a flicker.
The one good thing about being ignored was I could look at her all I wanted. If I had thought she looked great when she was all made up perfectly, sitting in the audience of the theater, now she was positively ravishing. Her skin glowed, her hair was a sexy mess, and her lips were still plump from being kissed.
I felt a growl of desire deep in my groin, despite the fact I'd just come. Sitting there with her neck perfectly straight and her knees together only made me dream of having her under me again. Was that intense connection I'd felt just my imagination? I couldn't separate the sexual lust I felt from the desire to feel her whole self melded with mine. When I took control-no, when she'd surrendered to it-it had felt so real, so special, so unlike the kinky sex games I'd played with my old roommate Roë or with the occasional adventurous groupie. They had been fun. But none of them had felt like mine.
She was curling that lock of hair right by the erogenous zone in her neck. I'm sure she didn't notice. I indulged in the fantasy that I was giving her a hickey right in that spot that would be visible for weeks. I wasn't stupid: I'd been careful not to leave marks. But a man can dream, can't he? I longed suddenly for the freedom to mark her as my own, to show the entire world exactly who she belonged to …
I was startled from my reverie by the limo phone ringing. I picked it up. "Hello?"
"It's Felipe." The driver. "Sakura just called. You won."
"I what?"
"Won. The Grammy Award. For Best New Artist. She thought you'd want to know."
"Yes! Yes, thank you!" I punched my fist in the air as I hung up the phone. I hadn't dared to imagine we might actually win! I felt suddenly dizzy, like I'd downed a bottle of champagne. We won? We really won? Maybe that would be enough to get us that British deal now.
I turned to Ricki gleefully. She at least looked mildly curious.
"Sakura called to say we won the Grammy for Best New Artist!"
She tipped her head toward me with a smile and said, "How nice for you," in a perfect performance of polite acknowledgment. No real emotion. I'm not even sure she was really paying attention to what I said by that point.
This town does two things to egos: inflates them, and batters them. I sat back in my seat and tapped my fingers on my knee like I was too cool to care, like I was already hearing the next hit song I was going to write in my head, like I wasn't being ripped apart inside by emotional whiplash.
Ricki Hamilton wasn't what I'd expected an heiress to be like. Well, until a couple of minutes ago. I wondered who or what could have hurt her so badly to make her that cold, when I knew I had reached a molten core of passion underneath.
We were pulling up to a gate. Ricki pressed the button to lower her window a crack and said a few words to a dark-suited security guard. Next thing I knew we were sailing up a private road into the hills. How big was this estate? It felt like we were driving for a while. And then a garage door opened and let us into a private parking garage built into the side of a hill.
A member of her staff opened her door while I got out myself, wondering if that was even allowed. She was off like a shot toward the door into the mansion. I followed close on her heels, a member of her staff following me just as closely. I got a distinct vibe of security guard from him.