Page 38 of Burning for You

Caro

“To the Shangri-La?” my driver asks.

Since I’ve packed my day with meetings before leaving for Bozeman tomorrow, I ditch public transport today and rely on Oleg’s street-smartness to get me where I need to be. Besides, Sam insisted on it. I don’t know if Josh had instructed his bodyguard to do so, or if Sam did it on his own accord.

“No, I need to cancel that lunch,” I say. “Could you please take me to the Bronx?”

“Sorry, Caro?” My driver must’ve thought I’ve gone mad.

“Here’s the address,” I say.

I still haven’t talked to my fiancé. He left for work way before I woke up.

Just the way I like it.

Forgetting the man whom I formerly knew as Bryan is harder than I thought. Especially after he returned to me out of the blue—or in last night’s case, out of the black. No doubt he and the other man are planning something. They weren’t just out looking for trouble on a Tuesday night.

Scared as I was being held by someone who might just resemble The Mountain in real life, in the dark, my silly little brain still can’t take my mind past my attraction to my savior. The effect of my towel-humping still lingers. People say orgasms lead to bonding. I think I am suffering from that phenomenon. Whatever it is, the cuddle hormone flowing through my blood since my bath last night is tricking me into believing that Bryan—no, Levi—is my loyal companion, a man I can trust with my life.

Stupid?

Yes.

But—

“Nearly there,” Oleg says.

While Josh and I were still courting, he was once dubbed by the press as having ‘a face that can tempt an heiress.’ The media have gotten a lot of things wrong, but this one was the wrongest. I was never tempted. I just went with my head. He was good on paper, like numbers on spreadsheets.

But Levi is another story. His golden mane is a temptation to hell. With his sinful face and beyond-redemption lips, the thought of him sticks to me like the humidity of New York air in the heart of summer.

Levi.

His real name does suit him better.

What does he want from me? He and his enlarged version? What are they looking for inside Brilliance?

Friend or foe, right or wrong, heart versus head, Levi made me feel safe—that is not the effect of an orgasm.

“We’re here,” Oleg says.

Levi’s apartment is in a 1960s condo, a brick building consisting of twelve floors. It’s a tidy complex, but my black Mercedes AMG looks out of place. And so does the metallic red BMW-4 parked on the street.

I hang around for a while, pretending I’m calling someone on the intercom. When a resident gets out, I slink past the door and head up to level four.

In front of a unit that I’m sure is Levi’s, a woman knocks on the door. She has a strong Christian Dior J’adore smell on her, and enough diamonds to close down the Kimberley mine.

She sees me, so I pretend I was going into another apartment.

“Bryan, it’s me, Abbie,” the woman says, persisting with the knocking.

So Levi has used the name Bryan to introduce himself to another woman? That woman is old! I mean, not old-old, but early or mid-forties. And is that red BMW hers?

This changes things.

No more an innocent, all-American boy-next-door heartthrob—Levi has a sugar mommy!

It infuriates me, but this is the kick I need to get my priorities straight. Tomorrow I’ll fly to Bozeman, and tonight I’ll strategize. Not about the airport expansion, I’m well prepared for that, but I’d like to ask my contacts at the airport authority a few questions—ones that might reveal a hint of any New-York-led projects in remote Montana.

Perhaps Random Valley might come up in our conversation, or even the name ‘Holt.’

---