Chapter 69: Chapter 69

The next morning Michael pulls up to my duplex parking in front of the lobby to wait for me while I run up to grab a quick change of clothes. I open the door to my loft thinking this will be one of the last time’s I open it to an unfurnished apartment. I closed the door locking it behind me, remembering how Scott let himself into it and head straight for my closet to choose an outfit for today.

The pickings are slim and I know I better go shopping and do something with my hair before camp starts. Maybe I will see if Lara can squeeze me into her busy schedule.

My phone is dead, so I throw it on the charger before leaving the loft and locking the door behind me.

I press the button and waited for the lift. As I get in, the door starts to close and a hand goes in-between them to stop it from happening. I looked for the open button and press it vainly trying to help him.

Scott steps on, “Sorry, I’m running late or I would have waited for another elevator.”

“No problem.” I said cordially.

He notices the parking button wasn’t lit and he pressed the floor his car was parked on.

“Would you like a lift to the office,” Scott offers.

“No, but thanks,” I appreciate the conscious effort he is making.

The elevator door opens on the lobby floor and as promised parked outside, is Michael waiting for me, the passenger wing of his car is open.

“Are you in love with him,” Scott asks. “Falling,” I confide.

“So you’re not yet,” he concludes. I step off ignoring his comment.

The next couple of days before the trip Michael keeps me busy in meetings with him and his father. They make sure I know exactly what is expected of me while I’m there. When I’m not working, I’m rediscovering Michael. He insists on me staying with him until my furniture arrives. When it comes time for the trip, Michael drives me to the airport and Scott shuttles alone.

It’s freezing cold, and I’m sure it’s going to snow. Michael’s Mercedes is now stored for the winter and we are roughing it in his Cadillac Escalade, “Couldn’t you have chosen Lagos instead of Owerri, you must have had your cities confused,” I complain.

“Nope, proudly Nigerian!” We pull up to the drop-off section of the airport and Michael pops the trunk. We get out of the SUV and he place my luggage beside me. He flags a porter down who waits patiently as Michael and I say our good-byes.

“Call me if you need anything.” “Promise.”

“Don’t let him touch you.”

“You’re the only one I want touching me.”

He places his hand on the back of my neck and pulls me in for another kiss. It is slow and hot, warming the blood in my veins, “Are you sure you can’t come?” I plead.

He follows the first kiss with a more aggressive second kiss knowing I like it a little rough, needier. I gasp into his mouth pulling his hips against mine, showing him I want him again.

“You’re insatiable,” he laughs. I’ll pick you up when you get back." “I forgot my phone!” I panic.

“Take mine,” he offers.

“Are you sure,” I ask hesitantly.

“Yes, I’m sure, it’ll be easier to track me down than you. Try home and the office if you need me.”

“Okay, I say,” nipping at his ear.

“Do you need me to book the two of you a room,” the porter hints impatiently.

Michael ignores him and gives me another kiss before slipping him a generous bill and leaving me with the porter who is very kind in helping me to find the correct desk to check my luggage in. I spot Scott in the lounge and then check my watch, “We have an hour before our flight, you want to get coffee?”

“Sure,” he says. “There’s a Starbucks down the hall.” We join the long line, “Your usual?” he asks. “Please.”

A black barista with a distinctly flamboyant voice winks at Scott, “I can definitely help you over here,” he flirts.

I chuckle to myself, “His name is Randy,” I goad quietly to Scott.

He smirks back at me and then orders our drinks, “A Grande mild, and a six pump, non-fat, no water, no foam, chai latte.”

“Oh you remembered, how sweet,” I teased.

“I can’t believe you still drink that shit. I bet if you stopped drinking it for a year you wouldn’t have regained the thirty pounds you lost...”

“Thanks mom, I’ll get right on that.”

“I’m just saying,” he defends. "How is she anyway?”

“She’s grieving over Clive. Apparently, his blood pressure bottomed out when he was doing her in bed. Some sort of drug reaction with Viagra and nitro.”

“Oh tell her I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, he was 97.”

We take our drinks to the last vacant table in the seating area and people gaze while we sip our way too hot to drink beverages.

“What made you quit school and work for Michael?” I ask out of curiosity. “You had your heart set on becoming a doctor.”

“Truthfully?” “Of course.”

“You,” I quiver inside when he says that one word.

“You quit your dream of becoming a doctor for me?” I’m taken aback. I would never have let him do that had I known.

“I can always go back to it, anyway, his offer was too sweet to pass up,” he adds.

“I felt the same way about school. I know your offer, I was the one who drafted the letter. Global insisted they hire you or they wouldn’t do the show. They said the public wants to see us together and they are under the impression we might reconcile on the show. They’re relying on our popularity to draw in the viewers.”

“Oh, now it all makes sense. I couldn’t fathom Michael offering me a job on his own accord.”

“They’re announcing our boarding, we better go.”

The flight is just over four hours long. I figure the reason why our seats are at opposite ends of the plane is because they were bought at different times, giving Michael the benefit of the doubt.

We disembark, sharing a cab to our hotel that Mrs. Abigail books for us. We give our names to the registration desk and this oversized man with black glasses and a name tag saying, ‘Sam’ on it hands us our keys and says, “Your beautiful lady, have the best Princess Suite in our Hotel.”

“Really?” I asked excitedly.

“Yes, its theme is Cinderella! The owner spared no expense!”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see it!” I gush. “What theme does Scott have?” I ask.

Sam looks at him, “Well, Mr. Brandon ’s room is standard features for a more economical stay. We’re planning on renovating it next month,” he said like it was a big secret.

“Thanks,” I say looking from Sam to Scott. Scott rolls his eyes, “I can hardly wait!”

We arrived at Scott’s room first, “Do you want to see my room?” he asks. “Please,” I say politely.

He opens the door to a double bed with a puke green pattern bedspread from the seventies. He does have a 42-inch LED television with a remote control that is nailed down to the night table. The bathroom is small and functional. Sam wasn’t kidding when he said it needed a Reno.

“Do you want to see mine?” I ask all charged up with anticipation. “Sure, why not?” he answers.

I open the door to my Cinderella Suite. The furniture is made to look like it came right off a Disney set. The bed is tented with elaborate white sheers and the headboard is white with diamond tuck, each inlet filled with large pretend diamonds. There are a dozen red roses on the bedside table with a note on it and rose sprinkled over the comforter. The bathroom is lavish with velvet red decorations and towels, an area just to put on makeup and elegant Hollywood lighting.

“This won’t come without a price,” he warns. “I didn’t ask for this room,” I tell him.

I start laughing at the differences between the two rooms, and then reconsider the flight, knowing it was probably intentional now. What I don’t get is why Scott is situated next door to me if he is so worried about him. Michael’s special treatment of me is painstakingly obvious, bordering on funny. Scott doesn’t see the humor in it. We plan to meet in the lobby for dinner before he stormed off to his room.

Finally alone, I laid on the bed and call Michael. Mrs. Abigail answers the phone, “NSA, Michael Anderson office, how may I help you?”

“Mrs. Abigail?”

“Mrs. Moyes?”

“Call me Abi,” she says pleasantly.

“You call me Isabella,” I return the gesture. “I take it you got there okay?”

“I did thanks. I love my room, and the flowers,” I can’t stop myself from gushing.

“All Michael’s doings,” she admits.

“Well, thank you, I’m sure you helped.”

“I did, and your welcome. Did you want to speak to him?”

“Is he in?”

“He is, hold on.”

Elevator music comes on and then Michael’s voice, “Isabella?” “Yes,” I say.

“Did you get the roses?”

“Loved them. Thank you. I haven’t read the card yet, don’t tell me what it says, I couldn’t wait to call you. The first-class seat on the airplane, my Cinderella Suite, it’s all amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said.

There is a long silence between us. I can tell Michael wants to say something so I wait. I hear his breath in the receiver, “I wish I could thank you in person,” I tell him.

“I haven’t been this happy in a long time,” he admits. “Either have I,” I agree.

“I think I’m...,”

“Me too,” I interrupt.

There is a long silence on the phone, “I want to say this to you in person, but here goes.”

I wait in anticipation.

“I’m falling in love with you,” he says in a gravelly voice. I get goosebumps all over, moaning quietly into the phone.

“Are you?” he asks.

“I’m falling in love with you too Michael,” I whisper. I think I hear him moan in the background. I listen very carefully.

He whispers, “What are you doing right now?” “I’m laying in bed.”

“With your clothes on?” he asks. “Yes.”

“Take them off,” he orders.

“What are you doing right now,” I ask suspiciously.

“You know what I’m doing. Are you naked yet.”

“Just a second,” I put the phone down and finished taking off my clothes. “They’re off,” I tell him.

“Play with your breasts until your nipples are hard.”

“Okay,” I took my left breast into my hand and then start touching my nipple lightly, then I do the same to the other one.

“Pinch them hard the way I would,” he insists. “I need to hear you moan.” I do what he says moaning into the phone.

“They’re nice and hard now Michael. They crave your lips though. My whole body craves your lips, your tongue, and you. I wish your warm wet mouth is nipping at my hard nipples. I’m wet for you. It’s your turn, roll your chair under your desk and then slide your hand into your pants.”

“I’m already there. I’m about to come. I need you to touch yourself Isa.

Pretend your fingers are mine and play with your clitoris the way I would. I want to hear you breath heavy and beg for me.”

“I’m sliding my hand down between my legs and starting to touch myself the way you would. Michael please, I need you to make love to me please. I’ll do anything for you,” and then I begin panting into the phone.

Michael begins groaning, “Isa, Oh Isa, Oh, I Love You.”

I cry into the phone as my body begins to climax too, “I love you too Michael.”