Bradley's Whistle (P.ornstars of Romance #2) (8 page)

With that, she stormed out of the room, slamming my door closed behind her. My gaze moved from the door to my computer screen, where I sat and stared for fuck knows how long. She had an affair? I couldn’t imagine Wiska having an affair with a married man. I couldn’t picture her as a vindictive home wrecker. Davina, maybe. Wiska, definitely not. I shut the computer down, wishing I could do it like one might slam a door shut with annoyance and attitude. Instead, I clicked the shut-down icon and pressed the sensor button on the screen. I shoved the piece of paper Davina had given me into my pocket and stormed out of my office, finally getting the opportunity for an enraged door slam. It was as satisfying as I knew it would be.

Davina was absent from her desk, which suited me just fine, I wasn’t in the mood to pretend her company didn’t piss me off.

I rode the elevator down to the basement and came to an abrupt, grinding halt when I realized my car was not in its usual parking spot. I shook my head and chuckled, making my way back to the elevator. I reached for my phone, dialed, and held it to my ear.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did.” I laughed. “Meet you out front.”

“I’m already there.”

Aedan worked for the chauffeur service that Willie owned here in London. He was always my driver on the odd occasion I used them. He was a good man, the kind I could easily have been friends with outside a driver/drivee relationship. Irish, with a classical Irish humor to boot, he didn’t mince words, but he was respectful. As I stepped out of the building and into the grey street full of depressing, gentle rain, I spotted the car parked against the curb on the opposite side of the street. I also spotted Davina as she slammed the back passenger door and sauntered away. That woman had perfected the art of slamming doors. And what the fuck had she been doing in my car? I dodged the traffic and dived into the back of the dark grey Lexus.

“Mr. Emerson,” Aedan greeted me with a smile.

“What was that about?” I asked, flicking my head at Davina’s retreating back.

“That young lady,” Aedan said as he pulled into the traffic, “thought she could buy me off.”

“How so?”

“She tried to bribe me into letting her wait for you, right there.” He indicated to the empty passenger seat beside me.

“You’re shitting me?” I scoffed.

“I am not. Had she offered to nibble on me nob instead of cash, I might have been tempted.”

I laughed loudly as we made our way through the city.

As we approached my building, the rain had eased and the traffic thinned. I was trying to relax, but the thought of arriving home to my house guests was making that difficult. I missed having my apartment to myself, yet at the same time, I was eager to see Wiska. It was a conflict I battled daily on the drive home.

A small scuffle on the sidewalk caught my eye. When I recognized Wiska’s tiny body standing amongst a throng of men, I grabbed the door handle.

“Aedan, stop,” I commanded. He immediately pressed on the brake, and I jumped from the car.

“Come on, Wiska, surely you have a few words. Flip me off, do something, anything!” a taunting voice called out.

The four men that had surrounded her all held cameras. They stood far enough back that it couldn’t be called assault, but they were definitely harassing her.

“How long did you and Kasper sleep with each other?”

“Did you know he had children?”

I watched as Wiska’s broken, rainbow casted hand drew back to punch the asshole who’s camera began clicking away in front of her. I grabbed one of the men by the scruff of his neck and pulled him aside. The way he fell to his knees made me feel about ten fucking feet tall. I had never once been in a fight, so I didn’t have a clue what to do, but putting one of the men on his ass was definitely satisfying to my ego. I grabbed Wiska’s arm just as she swung it, and when the sharp sting of her hand slapped my face, I paused.

“Oh shit, Bradley, I’m so sorry,” she began, her eyes full of unshed tears.

“Don’t worry about it, pussycat. Let’s go inside.” Suddenly, Aedan was there clearing the way, pulling the photographers back as I escorted Wiska into the building. “Thank you, Aedan.”

“Not a problem, boss,” he replied with a cheery smile. Turning back to the reporters, he growled, “Now, back the fuck up before I shove the damn camera someplace dark and warm.”

“Sir,” said Floyd from the elevators.

We stepped in and Wiska remained quiet and stiff at my side.

“Everything alright, Miss Wiska?” Floyd asked in a concerned tone.

“Not really, but thank you for asking,” she whispered.

I ushered her into the apartment, and Casey and Lionel looked our way from the couch. When they noticed the look on Wiska’s face, they both jumped up, but I raised a hand for them to stay back.

“Wiska and I are going to have a little talk.”

I gently took her arm and led her down the hallway.

CHAPTER 8

Wiska

What a clusterfuck. The rain had finally cleared, and I thought I would jog off my cabin fever, but the curse of my own damn bad luck followed me. The moment I rounded the corner onto the street Bradley’s apartment was on, four paparazzi had jumped in front of me. I had already narrowly escaped an assault charge on a pap in New York, and thanks to my renegade temper, I nearly found myself back in the same predicament. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Bradley had shown up in the nick of time. The way he had shoved the men aside and tried to shelter my entrance into the building made me a little warm and fuzzy. The scowl he currently wore as he dragged me through his apartment, not so much.

I thought of the sticky note stuffed in my bra top and hoped it wasn’t peeking out the top. We had been leaving notes for each other for the last few weeks. Frivolous things like,
TXT me if you need anything, the keys are in the dish
, and
I’ll be home late, don’t wait up
had morphed into more sexual content, like
Your ass looks lonely without my hands on it
, and
The only reason I’d kick you out of bed would be to fuck you on the floor
. Oh, yeah, that one had helped Thor rock my world a few days ago.

I’d barely seen Bradley over the past few weeks; he was constantly working, gone before we got up and home long after we were in bed. The notes felt safe because they didn’t come with a face, but now that I had a face in front of me, I felt more than a little awkward. The latest note was currently tucked in my sports bra and read:

 

 

It wasn’t romantic—it was erotic and hot—and my heart had flipped like a lovesick schoolgirl. I wished I had the tact and grace to be unaffected by his words, to make him grovel and beg until I finally gave him a reprieve. The truth was my vay-jay had a bad crush on this man, and I was beginning to think that, just maybe, a little more than my vay-jay was in lust for this man. And, to top it off, I wore the damn black lacy thong. I also kept the note. It was the first one he had left me signed
Bradley
, rather than
Emerson
, and for some reason that meant something to me. Now, it was soggy and causing my skin to itch. Bradley turned into his bedroom and slammed the door shut behind us.

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing to the bed.

“Woof,” I muttered as I grudgingly obeyed.

I had to climb onto the bed since it was huge, like a massive ship on the ocean huge. Bradley paced across the room a few times before coming to a standstill in front of me. His hands were on his hips, his suit jacket unbuttoned, tie loosened. His hair was ruffled into a delicious mess from the wind. He looked entirely too edible. I sighed and crossed my legs, a gentle reminder that sex was currently off the menu.

“I take you in, offer you some place to stay, I don’t ask questions, and I don’t pry; I just give you what you need. But right now, Wiska, I want some answers. I deserve to know what the fuck is going on with you.”

I had every intention of using some of that sarcasm I enjoyed so much, along with a good ol’-fashioned flip-off to boot, but before the words could escape my mouth and my finger could poise to flip, I realized he was right. He may not have been a willing host, but he had allowed us to take over his home for almost a month now, and he hadn’t asked questions. Plus, he had paid for my medical expenses. I owed him the truth, at the very least.

“There’s not a lot to it. I dated a married man. The world found out. I’m a home-wrecker.” The words were a lie and tasted bitter on my tongue, but that was pretty much the short and sweet version of what had happened.

“Explain,” he demanded, watching me with an expression that clearly said he didn’t believe me.

“Fine,” I breathed out in annoyance. “I had no idea who Kasper Karish was, I just knew he was famous—I still don’t really know what for. He was handsome, and he liked to flirt with me which was sweet. The attention he gave me wasn’t because I was a porn star, and I liked that. He seemed to like me for who I was. He liked to talk to me about life, he was great in bed, and he liked to buy me pretty things, which was nice, but not necessary. I didn’t realize it was payment for performing on my back, though.”

“What does that mean?” Bradley spat out.

“He was married, and I had no idea. His wife and family live in Spain. He travels back and forth between America and his family. I was his drink of choice, on tap whenever he visited New York.” I gazed up with pleading eyes. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have been with him if I knew. I’m not into being anyone’s mistress.” Bradley gave a slow nod. “Anyway, our relationship,” I snorted, “if you could call it that, was leaked to the media. Everything went crazy, my face was everywhere, and I was portrayed as the wicked witch of New York who was only after Kasper because I wanted dibs on his fortune.” My imploring eyes found his again. “I don’t need a sugar daddy. I pay my own way. His money meant nothing to me.” I glanced down at my fingers that were linked together in a tight grip in my lap. “I liked him, and I thought he liked me.”

“What did he say to you? Did he explain himself?”

A tear slipped free, dang it! I’d spilled enough tears for that dick-wad. I angrily brushed it away. “I haven’t heard from him since the morning I left his hotel room three months ago, after our regular midweek fling. He did an interview with his family for a magazine about a month back, a full two page spread. He played the misled and deceived husband to perfection; he claimed that I had relentlessly perused him. He went as far as to say I knew he was married and that I didn’t care, that nothing would have stopped me from having him. That’s the word according to Kasper.” My tears quickly dried, and in place was the anger that had been left burning inside me. “I’ve made it to the front cover of every cheesy magazine America has to offer. Kasper was made to look like a wronged hero, and I was made to look like a two-bit hooker. My parents haven’t spoken to me since it happened, I had to take a leave of absence from my job, and I had to leave my own damn country, all because Kasper Karish wanted a bit on the side.” I was standing now, my fists clenched in a fit of rage.

Bradley stood eerily still; he could have been misconstrued for calm, but the anger burning in his beautiful eyes gave his fury away.

“I have people who can fix this for you, Wiska. Just give me the word and I’ll make it go away.”
Huh?
“Just tell me you want it fixed, and I’ll make sure it’s done.”

“How?” I balked.

“I know people.”

I rolled my eyes. Vague much? “So Andi said, but that’s not good enough for me. What kind of people?”

“The dangerous kind.”

“What, are you some kind of undercover Navy SEAL or something?” That drew a smile from him.

“Not even close. The only person I’ve ever hit is Decker, and it hurt so I obviously did it wrong. I’m also not fond of swimming.”

I leaned against the bed behind me, my anger syphoning away as I wondered what kind of people Bradley knew. Who was this man who made me want to drop my panties like a shameless hussy?

“No, I need more than that. I hate Kasper, but I’m not about to have him offed or something. He has children!”

“Offed?” Bradley burst out laughing.

“Well, that’s what you’re insinuating, right?”

“Not exactly,” he said uncomfortably as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“What do you do?” I hated secrets, since Kasper even more so.

Bradley cast me a nervous glance. “It’s better if you don’t know.”

“How very mysterious, and totally hot.”

Bradley’s anxious frown turned into a smug smile, which had me clenching my thighs together like a horny woman ready to climb the nearest available man, or silicone vibrator. “You should probably go say hi to Casey and Lionel. Let them know I’m not screwing that spectacular little body of yours into my mattress.”

My mouth fell open, and I found all the sound that had been spilling from my lips moments ago simply gone.

“Wow, every girl has a limit, push her just right and her voice will disappear. Who would have thought your limit would be threatening you with sex.”

“It’s not exactly a threat,” I whispered, my breathy voice barely recognizable.

Holy hell, I wasn’t
that
girl, the girl who was forward when it came to men and sex, unless it was in front of a camera with a director to call action . . . AND MY VAGINA WAS ON SABBATICAL!

Bradley took the few steps between us until he was standing so close I could feel the heat from his body. “Dammit, pussycat, I can’t get you out of my head. I’m like a walking fucking hard-on,” he murmured.
Oh, damn that was hot. Whisker biscuit, behave!
“It would be so easy to turn you around, press you into this bed, and fuck you until my name is the only one you remember. Kasper would be nothing more than a speck of dust in the wind, and the only man you’d remember between these thighs would be me.”
Hmmmm, maybe my vagina vacation could wait.
“Are you wearing the black thong?”

I nodded and parted. There was no sign of intelligent life left in this vessel.

Bradley grinned and leaned forward, his nose feathering across my cheek. “I want to strip you down to those pretty lace panties, pull them aside, and fuck you out of my system.”

And my throbbing lady bits paused. His frank admission kinda pissed me off. I gave his chest a subtle shove, and he stepped away. I walked towards the door, my head held high, with a sexy swing in my hips.

“What makes you think it would be so easy to get me out of your system?” I asked, the ire in my tone clear. “You’ve got Davina to help with your itch. If you think just because I work in the adult film industry that I’m going to drop to my knees for you, you’re wrong. I’m not that kind of girl.”

I left his room before I ruined my cast by smacking it over his head. I couldn’t remember a man ever getting under my skin the way Bradley did. He infuriated me one moment then stole my breath and sanity the next. If he hadn’t opened his mouth to let those asshole words out moments ago, he could have very well ruined me for all other men. Back to lady abstinence for me. As for the itchy, soggy note in my bra . . . well, I’d keep it, because I was sentimental like that.

*

“Get dressed, we’re going out.”

I sat up from the couch and peered over the back. Moments ago, Bradley had stormed in from work and stomped right by me and into his bedroom. It was his usual MO, and it made living out of a suitcase, which was tucked away in the corner of said room, awkward.

“Pardon?” I asked, putting my cell phone to one side.

Bradley shifted from one foot to the other. He looked nervous. But that couldn’t be right because he was never nervous. Arrogant, check; confident, check; sarcastic, check. Bradley didn’t do timid and skittish.

“It’s a casual place. You can wear jeans, but bring a jacket since it’s cool out tonight.”

I just stared at him and wondered where the Moody Bradley Emerson had gone and who this anxious imposter was. His brow suddenly furrowed, and he scowled. Oh, there he was, just waiting to lure me into a state of confusion before pouncing with his usual, far too sexy grimace.

“Casey and Lionel are having a date night or something, and I’m taking you out for dinner, so hurry up!” And with that he turned and stalked off to his bedroom, slamming the door in his wake.

How very romantic . . .
NOT
. And the closed door to his bedroom was going to make getting dressed difficult. Luckily, I had stashed a few clothes in Lionel and Casey’s room weeks ago, when I realized we had reached an awkward and uncomfortable stalemate.

I found a clean pair of skinny jeans and a black off the shoulder top with a zombie burlesque dancer on the front. I slipped on a pair of black heels with little skulls down the heel seam, gave my face a puff of powder, my blonde lashes a coat of dark brown mascara, and applied my favorite MAC lipstick shade,
Girl About Town.
I was able to use the fingers on my right hand that peeked out the end of my cast rather efficiently; otherwise, things would have looked a little more Heath Ledger as the Joker, rather than the clean, bright look I was aiming for. Smacking my bright pink lips together, I stuffed the lipstick and my cell phone into a small shoulder bag and strolled into the kitchen.

Other books

An Honest Woman (Erotic Romance) by Silvers, Stephanie
The Dragon's Distrust by Eva Weston
The Passing Bells by Phillip Rock
Blood Lust by J. P. Bowie
The Empire of the Senses by Alexis Landau
Substitute Bride by Margaret Pargeter
House of Ravens by Keary Taylor
I Am David by Anne Holm