Page 47 of Jace
Zar leans down, whispering like I’m not here… again. “I think he’s been waiting for you to fulfill his dirty kinks, peaches.”
“And I’m out!” I pivot on my heels, sensing my earlobes ignite. “I’ll meet you in the lobby, Viv.”
Minutes later, she comes down, wincing and worried. “Are you okay? Did he really make you mad?”
I lean against a marble column, a dirty man for how right Zar is about my kinks for Vivian. A decent man for how slow I’ll go with her. My dick is used to it.
“Nah, I’m not mad. Zar gave me a cute niece who can spit up on my suit any day. I just…” Shuffle awkwardly. “I just hope he didn’t freak you out.”
“About kinks?” She laughs, pointing to the gold ceiling. “You know about their sex suite on the third floor, right?”
“I’ve heard but never seen it. But I meanus.” I push off the column. “Slow and not a rebound; I want it too, Viv. I don’t want to rush you.”
She salutes. “Not rushed, sir. I promise.”
I grin. “New kink unlocked: military uniforms.”
We laugh it off as the bellhop holds the glass door open for us.
Stepping out into the bright afternoon, I want to reach for her hand, but…
The same black SUV with tinted windows slowly drives by.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VIVIAN
“What the… Jace!”I shriek when he picks me up, hugging me like a doll against his chest, trying to shield my body with his as he rushes me back inside The Mercier.
Jace turns to the concierge. “Security exit. Now.”
The concierge rushes. “Right this way.”
“Put me down!” Yes, I’m still dangling in Jace’s grasp while guests turn, gawking at us.
“Viv, rarely will I say this, but shut up.”
“Oh, okay. Sure. Why use my feet when you’re around?”
The concierge keeps glancing back at us, leading us through a labyrinth of hallways and downstairs—yes, Jace is still carrying me—so I let myself noodle in his arms because we’ve gone way past ridiculous to oh well.
I huff. “I’m assuming there’ll be an explanation for this?”
Jace doesn’t even break a sweat. “I’m rushing you through the bowels of a five-star hotel to escape into a hidden alley. Take a guess. Hint: we’re not going on our honeymoon.”
Our honeymoon?
Now is not the time to swoon for one with him… but I do.
“This way, sir.” The concierge quickly taps a code into the keypad of an unmarked white door, then swings it open. Thesmell of mildew hits us like a bomb. “This is the owner’s secret security exit.”
“Where will it take us?” Jace demands.
“It’s an old rum-runner’s tunnel, sir. Follow it to the end, take a right, and climb up the ladder. The code is 739. The iron gate will open behind a church on King Street.”
Jace sets me down, grabbing my hand, and tugging me along so fast I barely have time to turn around and shout, “Thank you, Percy!”
The concierge waves before shutting the metal door. With a heavy clang, it closes as dim, waterproof emergency lights flicker on, illuminating brick walls that look centuries old. This tunnel has survived hundreds of years and many hurricanes, but we may not surviveit.
