Promise Me Forever: Manhattan Ruthless

The music has stopped and the band is packing up to go home. Most of the guests have left, and Tucker and Emily are long gone. The dance floor is strewn with multicolored streamers, discarded name tags, and a solitary red stiletto. A Cinderella mystery that may never be solved. The weary staff is clearing up, but my friend and I have grabbed a bottle of champagne and moved outside. I don’t want the night to end, and he seems to feel the same.

Charlie and I are sitting at a small patio table in one of the hotel’s luxuriously landscaped gardens, and he’s placed his tuxedo jacket around my shoulders in a chivalrous attempt to keep me warm in the cool night air. We talk and laugh and flirt beneath the dark blanket of sky and the shining lights of New York City. He’s funny and charming and has listened to me ramble on about my mom and my cheating husband. He must be bored by it all—I know I am—but he shows no sign of being fed up.

In return, he tells me about his childhood, about growing up in a loving family as one of five boys. I’m an only child and was raised by a hardworking single mom, so our early years couldn’t have been more different. Still, it’s fun listening to his stories and sharing mine. I can’t remember the last time I felt so comfortable with someone I just met.

“How did you two meet?” he asks after I get done telling him about the time I lost a bet to Emily and had to wear a Mets jersey to a Yankees game.

“We met on our first day of college. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

“That kind of enduring friendship is rare. Where did you go to college?”

I know he’ll be surprised by my answer. Everyone always is. “Harvard.” His eyebrows shoot up, and I have to grin. “You look shocked. Is that so hard to believe?”

“I never said that.” He laughs, the sound so deep and sexy and genuine that my heart jumps in my chest. “You talked earlier about doing temp jobs, and I assumed …” He takes another sip of his champagne. “Well, I assumed, and we all know what they say about that. I’m trying to make a good impression, so I’d hate for you to think I’m an ass. And you are far too lovely to be compared to a donkey.”

He is so damn charming. I roll back my shoulders and pretend like I’m not about to melt into a puddle in this chair. “That’s okay. I’m used to it. There’s this pervasive belief that everyone who went to Harvard has some high-flying corporate job, like most of those stiffs we just spent the evening with.”

“Ouch!” He places a hand over his heart and grins at me. “That hurt.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.” I chuckle at his wounded expression. Talking to him feels so easy and natural, like we’ve known each other a lot longer than a few hours. I consider giving him the sanitized version I tell during job interviews when asked about my unconventional career path, but that half-truth doesn’t seem appropriate when we’re both being so candid. “I did have plans, but I put them on hold while we moved around the States. Then, somehow … well, I suppose I kinda got lost along the way. I started seeing work as a job rather than a career, and there is a difference, isn’t there? It felt like there was only room for one of us to reach the stars, and that was my husband.”

“Isn’t there always room for two? Success is better when it’s shared, or so I’m told.”

He’s right, of course, and I see that now. But Chad had the charm and smarm of a good snake oil salesman, and he convinced me that we would both be better off if we focused on getting him to the top first. That there would be time for me later, maybe after we started a family.

Looking back, it was a mistake—at least for me. But we’d been together since high school, and it seemed like our relationship was worth the investment. It’s only recently that I realized how much I bent and gave and made it so he didn’t have to. During college, I was the one who always made the trip home to see him at Columbia. In fact, our biggest point of contention back then was his unwillingness to come to Boston for even a single weekend. I shake my head and take a long sip from my glass. That’s all in the past, and even now, I’m not sure it was my choices that were wrong so much as the person I was making those choices for. “Well, relationships are complicated beasts, aren’t they? You do odd things when you’re in love.”

“If you say so.”

“You’ve never been in love?” I ask. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

He shakes his head and smiles, but it’s a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I was, yeah. But that was a long time ago, and I’m not keen to repeat that particular experience.”

I reach for his hand and twine my fingers with his. “I’m sorry, Charlie.”

“You do know that’s not actually my name, don’t you?”

I squeeze his fingers and flash him a devilish smile. “Hush now. Tonight it is. Tonight, you’re Charlie, a gorgeous stranger who’s new to town.”

“I actually am kind of new here. I just moved back after years away.”

“Really? Why’d you leave? It sounds like you have a great family here.”

He sucks his upper lip and is quiet for a long moment. I wonder if he’s about to lie to me, if I’ve accidentally touched a nerve.

“I moved away because I needed to be me,” he finally says, shrugging. “I needed to be independent, not part of a whole, you know? My family is great. My dad is a force of nature, and my brothers … Well, we’re close, and they’re amazing. Sometimes so amazing that I don’t feel quite good enough, like I don’t match their high standards. It’s nothing they’ve ever said or done, it’s all on me. And moving halfway across the country felt like a way to escape that. After we lost our mom, I found it even harder to stick around. I managed it for a while, and I kept busy with work, but I never felt settled. It was almost a relief to get away from the home we all shared.”

It feels like a confession, and I can sense his discomfort. I also wonder what the rest of his family is like if this impeccable man feels like he isn’t up to par. They must all be superheroes. “Why did you come back now?” I ask.

“It just felt like the right time. And who knows, maybe it was fate. Maybe I was meant to be here for this wedding. Maybe I was meant to meet you, Amelia.”

“Oh no,” I say, playfully swatting his arm. “You were meant to meet Scarlet, the super-hot chick who is far more likely to be Emily’s friend than plain old Amelia.”

“There is nothing plain about Amelia.” He lifts my hand and drops a kiss onto my palm. My heart stutters and then sends some highly excited messages to somewhere much lower. “But you and Emily do seem very different. She works in finance, right? Comes from old money?”

“Yep. And I work in admin with no money. But opposites attract, as they say. Sometimes, though, I do wish I was more like her. For more than just a night.”

“And why is that?”

“I suppose I’d love to have her confidence. Her self-assurance. Her ability to have fun without second guessing herself.”

“Oh?” He sits up straighter. His eyes narrow as he stares at me, and I wonder why I said that out loud. “And what would you do with that self-assurance? Right now? What would be fun?”

I could give him some vague and noncommittal answer to that question. In fact, I definitely should, because all my genuine answers could land me in a world of trouble. But his gaze is every bit as intoxicating as the champagne, and I figure I’m never going to see him again. We are wedding guests passing in the night. What’s the harm in telling him the truth? “Sometimes, I’d like to be able to let loose and do whatever I want. Just go wild. Make rash decisions, live for the moment, and have no regrets. You know what I mean?”

Staring down into his glass, he swirls the last drop around the bottom. “Tell me more.”

“I’d like to try being someone else entirely. Like Scarlet. She has no worries, no insecurities. No responsibilities. It would be nice to live like that for a while.”

“Yeah. I understand that.”

“You do?” Why on earth would this incredibly sexy, charming, obviously rich man ever want to be anyone other than who he is? He seems to have everything a person could possibly want in life.

“Of course. The chance to be selfish? To cast aside what people expect of you? To act on nothing but your own desires without worrying that you’re going to hurt someone or let them down? Hell yeah, I get that.”

When I look into his eyes, they’re no longer chocolate brown; they’re almost black. His voice is raw with emotion, and goosebumps prickle along my skin at the sound. We’re just playing a game here, aren’t we?

A game we’re both enjoying and that could allow us both to be winners. That thought urges me to speak. “What if we both agreed to abandon our real lives for the night? What would that look like? If you got the chance … What would you be looking for?”

His lips quirk up, and his head tilts to one side as he assesses me. I might be bad at flirting, but I’m also not a complete idiot. Unlikely as it may seem, this gorgeous man is interested in me. But now that I’ve basically propositioned him, a flurry of nerves erupts in my belly.

“I’d be looking for something a little …”

“A little what?” My eyes stay locked with his, my heart beating so hard I swear he must be able to hear it.

“Casual?” He arches one eyebrow. “I’m the kind of guy who goes all in, Scarlet, but only for one night.”

I can’t help thinking that all in with this man for one night would be better than half-assed with Chad for more than a decade. In fact, it’s perfect. My life is busy and complicated, and I don’t have space in it for a relationship.

But I do have space for one awesome night.

I process his offer, trying to stay calm and think it through properly. No matter which way I look at it, though, I can’t find the downside. I’m a little drunk, but not so drunk that I don’t know my own mind, my own body. Both are floored by the incredibly sexy and charismatic guy right in front of me. I’m most definitely Scarlet now, and I’m thrilled about it. I deserve to be a little bit naughty just once, don’t I? And it’s not like anyone will ever find out.

“I can do casual,” I whisper.

His Adam’s apple bobs, and he stares at me for a few seconds. The electricity crackling between us is palpable, like fireflies sparkling in the air around us. Surely he feels it too, this magic?

“I’m at the hotel next door,” he offers.

I take a deep breath and nod. “Okay.”

Holy shit. Am I really going to do this? He could be a serial killer for all I know. An incredibly hot serial killer, but his looks won’t matter so much when he’s burying me in a ditch. Emily wouldn’t invite a serial killer to her wedding, would she? God, my nerves are so shot that I’m babbling to myself. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I am completely outside my comfort zone.

He stands up and holds his hand out to me. To my surprise, I see my own reach out and take it. “Shall we, Scarlet?” He flashes me a wicked smile, and my insides melt like warm butter, washing away all doubt. If he is a serial killer, at least I’ll die happy.

We walk arm in arm, quickly covering the short distance to his hotel. The Grand Regent is by far the fanciest hotel I’ve ever set foot in, and he gets polite nods from the staff as he leads me through the expansive lobby. He keeps walking past several banks of elevators until he reaches the private elevator for the penthouse and scans his keycard. The penthouse! This guy isn’t only super hot, he’s super rich as well. I wonder what it’s like living in his universe. I’m overwhelmed enough only gate-crashing it for a few hours.

On the ride up, he stands silently beside me with his hand on my hip, dangerously close to my ass. My ass really doesn’t mind, and my legs are trembling with anticipation. I’m a little worried they won’t know what to do when the doors open and I’m expected to somehow walk again.

As if sensing my unease, he slips his hand down to skim the curve of my backside and turns, giving me a slow, sexy smile that almost finishes me off. “You okay, Scarlet?”

I smile back, nodding with a shaky jerk of my head. Yeah. Scarlet’s just fine. Amelia, however, is absolutely terrified. Scarlet might be a woman of the world, but Amelia is a scared divorcée who has only ever slept with one man. I can’t tell him that, obviously. It’s outrageously unsexy, and I’m guessing he’s used to dating women with a lot more skill and experience than I possess. I can fake this ’til I make it, and maybe he won’t notice.

When the doors open, he gestures for me to go ahead, and I step out into a vast, exquisitely decorated living area. The man has a room that takes up the entire floor of the nicest hotel in the city, and that doesn’t do much to calm my nerves. I am so far outside my comfort zone that I can’t do anything but gape at the spectacular room. It’s bigger than my whole apartment, with floor-to-ceiling windows and the most incredible view of the city. The drapes are open, the bright lights of Manhattan spread out beneath and around us, the whole world lit up like a Christmas tree.

I wander over, mesmerized by the sight. I wonder if one of those twinkling lights is my mom’s place miles away. Mom would approve of me having a little fun, a little adventure. She always tells me I need to let loose.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that view. There’s nothing quite like the Manhattan skyline, is there?” he says, passing me a tumbler of Scotch. He’s taken off his tie, and the top few buttons of his crisp white shirt are open, revealing a golden patch of skin that I immediately want to kiss.

“I guess it’s a pretty awesome view,” I reply breathlessly, admiring the way the material of his shirt molds to his muscular physique. “But I prefer the one from here.”

He grins at me and slowly sips his drink, ice cubes clinking. The sight of his lips curving around the glass fascinates me, and now that we’re alone together, my body is even more aware of his raw sexual energy. He may have been a perfect gentleman until now, but there’s something dangerous and edgy beneath that suave exterior. Something reckless and wild and passionate, calling to me and making me melt inside. I have never had a one-night stand. I never plan to have a one-night stand again. This is something special, something outrageous—something that will make me smile when I’m a lonely old woman in my house full of cats.

As if trying to read my thoughts, he stares at me intently. Then he holds out his hand and beckons me closer. “Come here, Scarlet.”

I’m so lost in the dark promise in his eyes that it takes me a moment to respond to the name. I obviously hesitate too long, and he narrows his eyes at me.

“Now,” he commands in a low growl.

“Yes sir,” I reply, closing the distance between us. I’m frightened, in the most delectable way I could ever imagine. I don’t know what this man is going to do to me, but I know that I am going to enjoy it. Probably more than I’ve ever enjoyed anything in my whole damn life.