Driven By Fate(30)

“Not with the paperwork, no.” A tapping noise in the background. “Ms. De Luca is the recipient of a scholarship granted by my fiancé’s family. My fiancé and her brother, Oliver Preston, who runs the scholarship, have taken something of an interest in her life. They…care about her.”

Porter ground his teeth together to stop the sharp reply from leaving his tongue. He didn’t like Francesca’s name spoken in the same sentence as another man, specifically Oliver Preston. The two of them had never been cordial, let alone friendly.

“I’ve been discreet about what took place Monday evening at Serve, mainly because I’m guilty of underestimating her. Nor is there anything wrong with her interest in the club. She’s an adult. However—”

“However, my tastes are too extreme for a novice.” Porter’s hand curled into a tight ball. “I’m well aware of that fact, Mr. Briggs. I’m also aware of my reputation at your club.”

A beat passed. “Then you agree that she might need some guidance.”

Porter started to answer that no one would guide Francesca, save himself. But he stopped, the words trapped in his throat. He thought of her crying and running for the front door, hastily dressing herself. He thought of her smiling and laughing with the man in her cab, the normal man. A man whose wife went out for a girl’s night while he babysat the kids at home. She’d end up with someone like that. Oh f*ck, his stomach didn’t like that realization. It clenched and for a moment, he thought he’d be sick. The phone in his hand creaked in his grip.

How could he rid himself of this unbalanced feeling? It was wrecking his bloody head, twisting his stomach into knots. Eventually, he would return to London. Giving up Francesca, leaving her to babies, baseball, and barbeques. The life she wanted. So why was he holding back with her? If he wanted her to stay the night so he could please himself with her body at all hours, why the hell didn’t he just make the command? He’d never held back in the past. Never. Until he left New York, he needed Francesca on his terms. The alternative was to subject himself to mornings like this, wondering if she’d even walk through the door. Fuck that. And f*ck this phone call meant to warn him away. He’d love to see someone try to keep him from her.

Porter took a breath before he betrayed his feelings to the man on the other end. “I appreciate the phone call, Mr. Briggs. If you feel inclined to arrange guidance for Ms. De Luca, I can’t stop you. But it will be from another woman.” His jaw was beginning to ache. “I’m sure you can appreciate how I’d feel if another man spoke to her about what takes place in my bedroom.” Murderous.

“I can.” Jonah’s voice was firm. “And having met Ms. De Luca, I know she’s smart enough to make her own decisions, so I’m approving the temporary membership as of today.”

His office buzzer went off. The sound was all it took to make his cock grow heavy in his pants, just the knowledge that she was close. He pressed the button on the underside of his desk to allow her inside, already debating the idea of giving her a key. “If that’s all, Mr. Briggs?”

“That was all.”

Porter hung up just as Francesca walked into the office. He maintained a calm expression, but his body vibrated with pent up energy. His decision to stop holding back had nudged a sleeping beast. A hungry one. Francesca was the target and he saw the moment she realized it.

She stopped just inside the door and paused in the act of removing her backpack. Her tongue skated over her lips as she contemplated him. “Hey?”

Goddammit, he should hate that informal greeting. Instead it made him wonder how he’d made it almost a full day without hearing her speak. Yet another reason he needed her around more. On his terms. Another reason he needed to press, to push. Testing boundaries was what he did. She’d come to him and he’d been coddling her. It ended now. If he was too much for her, best to get it out of the way now. Otherwise he’d spend his last weeks in New York wanting more.

Don’t do this, the unwelcome voice warned from the back of his head.

He ignored it. Instead, he removed her list of limits from his top desk drawer and studied it, as if he didn’t have the damn thing memorized. Across the room, Francesca remained very still, so still he could practically hear her heartbeat.

“Don’t bother taking off your sweatshirt.” He picked up the list, folded it, and slipped it into his pants pocket. “We’re going on a field trip.”





Chapter Eleven


Porter’s hand rode the small of Frankie’s back as they exited the elevator onto Serve’s second floor. Dark, thumping music ghosted over her senses, trying to calm her, but no dice. The dark space was somehow twice as intimidating as the last time. She didn’t want to be there, didn’t know what was coming. Porter’s tight-lipped demeanor only jumbled her nerves more.

Downstairs, the bar had been mostly empty compared to the last time she’d been at Serve, so she’d expected the same thin crowd upstairs. She’d been completely wrong. To their right, a communal lounge area was dotted with couples, threesomes…six-somes. A topless woman danced for a man as another female serviced him from her knees. These were sights she’d been unprepared for—which shocked her to some degree because she’d never witnessed such acts being performed live—but they interested her nonetheless. Porter allowed her to pause and watch, although he seemed almost bored with the proceedings, his focus remaining on her alone.