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His Call (Call #2.5) Page 15
Author: Emma Hart

Her hips grind into mine, and I cup her face with my hands. I hold her still, reminding her who has the control here, and push my tongue between her lips. She tastes sweet and fruity, almost as if she’s had a drink or two tonight.

“Tell me one thing,” I demand, my voice rough and low. “Has anyone else kissed these lips?” I tug on her bottom one with my thumb.

“Fuck you,” she whispers, her voice wavering.

“Answer the f**king question, Dayton.”

“No. They haven’t.”

I curl one hand around the back of her neck and close the distance between us yet again. This time, I’m even harsher. An unnecessary reminder of who she is to me. What she is to me.

That no one else will ever kiss her the way I am now.

My tongue sweeps through her mouth, and she melts beneath me. Her fingers clench at my shirt, holding me tight to her, and I want to rip that f**king key out of her hand. I want to shove her through this door, lay her flat on her bed, and f**k her until she gets the message I’m so desperately trying to convey with my mouth.

I want to f**k her until she understands that this won’t be the last time I kiss her.

I pull back, grazing her bottom lip with my teeth the way I know she likes, and rest my nose alongside hers. Both of our chests are rising and falling quickly, and I’d bet everything I have that her heart is thumping the way mine is.

Dayton takes a long, shuddery breath and drops her hands from my shirt. Her eyes are full of fire when they find mine. “You have five seconds to get your ass out of here before I go crazy at you.”

I smirk, reveling in that anger. It means she got the message.

“Remember that the next time you think what you do is none of my business.” I brush my thumb across her mouth one last time. Our gazes lock as I walk backward down her pathway and wave my hand. The car pulls up behind me and I open the door. “Good evening, Dayton.”

She simply stares at me as I get into the vehicle. Just before I close my door, I hear her front door slam.

“Back to the apartment,” I order the driver.

He pulls away silently. I pull my cell from my pocket with shaky hands and dial Monique’s number.

She’s not getting away that easily.

The One Where Her Secret Comes Out

I rub my temples harshly. This contract negotiation is such a f**king headache. If it weren’t the one that could push us over the billion-dollar mark, I’d hand it off to someone else. I’d let my employees do what I damn well pay them for.

“Five years is unreasonable. We’re offering one campaign, not several.”

“And we’re offering you more. I fail to understand why this is an issue in our negotiations.”

“I’d like to see the outcome of one campaign before hiring your services again.”

“Are you doubting our ability, sir?”

“Enough!” I raise my voice over the endless back and forth. The room immediately silences, and I turn my attention to the gentleman sitting opposite me. “Mr. Simmons, with all due respect, you’re asking us to put all our manpower behind this latest line. No one here is doubting the inevitable success your wife is about to have. Her designs are truly remarkable, and the interest she has already garnered for her next collection is impressive. This will absolutely cement her place in the fashion world, but from a business perspective, I cannot take just one campaign of this caliber.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but I continue.

“You are essentially asking me to turn away a selection of smaller contracts because of the scale of your own. I refuse to do this, but I’m willing to take on staff to accommodate for your needs. In turn, this will take time to hire them. Do you understand it from my perspective? If I’m going to do this, I need more than one campaign for you.”

“Five years is incredibly long, Mr. Stone. That’s ten collections of my wife’s.”

The door opens and Dottie pokes her head in. “Excuse me. Mr. Stone, there’s an important call for you.”

“Can’t it wait?”

Her eyes widen in a message I don’t understand and she shakes her head.

I sigh. “Excuse me, everyone. Let’s take ten minutes and come back to this. Dottie, can you have some coffee sent up?”

She nods, and I follow her from the room.

Loosening my tie, I pick up the phone in my office. “Aaron Stone.”

“Aaron.” Tyler’s voice is slightly panicked. “You need to come home. Dayton’s freaking out.”

I frown. “Freaking out?”

“She’s having a panic attack. I can’t calm her down.”

I drop the phone without responding and exit my office quicker than I entered it. “Dottie, clear my afternoon. We’ll continue this meeting in the morning. Nine a.m. sharp. I want every detail spread out before then.”

“Of course. Is everything okay?”

“It will be.”

I ride down the building in the elevator and climb into my waiting car. Panic attack? Dayton? She’s the most composed woman I know. I can’t imagine anything that would have her upset to such an extreme.

Worry floods my body. Something truly terrible must have happened. But what?

My mind conjures up any number of situations, all completely ridiculous, and it’s only silenced by the sound of the engine cutting outside my apartment block.

I jog across the lobby and into the elevator, jabbing at the buttons the whole way. Of course, it’s completely ridiculous. It won’t make it go any faster, and although it’s only been a matter of seconds, it feels like an hour.

I burst through the apartment door and see Tyler kneeling in front of Dayton in the middle of the kitchen. Her labored breaths fill the air and pained whimpers cut through me. I push Ty out of the way and frame her face with my hands.

“Dayton. Breathe for me, sweetheart. Come on now. Breathe.”

She shudders beneath my touch and takes a long, controlled breath.

“That’s it. And out. And back in. That’s better.” I fold her into my arms.

Her cheek is flat against my chest, and I gently rock her side to side until she calms. She’s shaking against me, and she feels so tiny in my arms.

And I know something is very, very wrong.

“I’m glad you were here,” I say to Tyler, barely glancing over my shoulder at him.

“Sorry I pulled you from your meeting, cuz.”

“Fuck the meeting. The contract will still be there tomorrow morning.” I tilt Dayton’s face up so she’s looking at me. “What’s wrong?”

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