“I understand.”
“You do?”
“This isn’t your passion.”
“Exactly. And, there are other paths in life I want to explore now.” She gripped my cock harder.
“We’re not going to this event.”
My temptress moved her fingers down the length and tugged at the tip. “We are. I told you it’s a good cause.”
“Keep holding my cock this way and I’m going to fuck you right in the center of the ballroom.”
She laughed and let go. “Just make sure I give out the award first.”
“Who’s getting the award?”
“Stone Mason.”
“He’s the one hosting the party.”
She shrugged. “He’s also bringing the organization tons of money tonight by just having his name on the invitation.”
“Whatever, I’m fucking you after you present the award.” I licked my lips and tried to focus on the road. “Stop teasing me.”
Giggling, she muttered, “You’re the one that put my hand on your cock. How could I not play with it?”
It jerked in my pants.
I gritted my teeth.
Focus.
While I hadn’t known about the organization’s nonprofit activities, I knew everything else. It was a glamourous dinner with a celebrity hook. Award-winning actor and social activist, Stone Mason hosted the ritzy 150-guest dinner. Each plate cost $45,000. The guest list boasted award-winning stars. Celebrity chef, Teegor Sparks, would prepare the five-course meal. And the event would be held in Mason’s sprawling Tudor-style home—110 acres, pool, movie theater, tennis court, helipad, and massive ballroom.
Mason had an exorbitant amount of security. I’d checked out the company. They’d been in business for forty years. I’d worked with some of the guards on earlier jobs in my career. I’d even called ahead and talked to Mason’s head of security. They were aware of Zola’s stalker situation and would have their eyes and ears open as well. The last thing they would want was a famous model being shot in the middle of their charity event.
Personally, it was a better situation than all the others these past weeks. With such a high level of clientele, every guest would have their own bodyguards. The place would be packed with highly focused people, constantly searching the space and ready within seconds to pull out their guns.
Tell me, you bitch ass stalker, are you bad enough to come out tonight?
Baptiste, Meridian, and Stark would be there too.
There was no time for slacking. We had to get this guy. Opportunity was running out. All his earlier gifts and soft attacks had been him playing around. Soon he would want to end the games and get to his true goal.
I just didn’t know what that would be. He had chances to kill her, but he didn’t.
Why? Are you trying to prolong the moment? You want to savor her death?
Zola brought me back to the car. “Hunter?”
“Yes.”
“You look worried.”
“I am.”
“I trust you.” She placed her hand back on my cock.
I grunted.
“You’re my protector.” Over my pants, Zola flicked her thumb along the mushroomed tip, causing it to jerk. She jumped a little in surprise and then began rubbing it some more. “I think that…we won’t stay long at this event tonight.”
I licked my lips. “No, we won’t.”
Lusty heat radiated from her palms as she rubbed her fingers along the ridge of my cock. Moving my hand, I pressed her palm harder against me, and she gripped me firmly. It was all I could do to keep the car on the road.
Thank God we got there in no time and dropped the car off with valet.
I guided her down the red carpet. Paparazzi barreled her with questions. She kept her head straight and moved forward—cool, competent, and tuned out.
Stone Mason’s opulent Upper East Side mansion oozed elegance and money. The 19-room mansion had been designed by a French architect fifty years ago who’d needed a nice place for his mistress in America. When the architect died, a tech-billionaire owned it for a while and then lost it, after being convicted of fraud. Later, Stone Mason bought the place for a steal at eighty million.
I guided Zola into the massive ballroom the size of a small museum’s first level. Tables filled the place. Top celebrities and New York politicians packed every inch. Everyone had already been seated. Event staff guided us to Zola’s seat. I remained standing by the wall barely five feet away from her. My gaze remained on her most of the time.
In the background, a string quartet played, filling the air with a slow rhythm classical song. A small stage had been positioned near the musicians. I knew from the event planner’s notes that Zola would hand out the award on that stage.
I took in everything else. Sterling silver clinked against fine china. Ice jingled in crystal. A few giggled. Others laughed. People enjoyed their evening everywhere I looked, even my lovely woman who kept glancing my way every few minutes.
I was impressed by the way Zola wooed her table. Many smiled as they looked her way and talked. Several times, she had them laughing at something she’d said. Two of the men had definitely focused a lot of their attention on her.