His Broken Angel (Heaven's Ballroom Book 2) Read online

  When I pulled back to release my cock from the vice-like grip his ass still had on it, he reached back to stop me.

  “Leave it in,” he said softly, fingertips cool as they stroked down my thigh. “Just for a little while.”

  “As the gentleman wishes,” I said again. The same words that we’d begun with—but they felt different now. It all felt different now—heightened and more intense.

  To tell the truth, I didn’t know if I could bring myself to pull out of him anyway. It felt too good, all that heat wrapped around me, that tightness that just wouldn’t quit. I laid us down clumsily, taking the brunt of our tumble back onto the mattress by wrapping him up tight in my arms.

  “I…” he began, then cut himself short by pressing a kiss to my wrist.

  “You what?” I purred against his ear.

  “No. That was stupid. I shouldn’t say—”

  “Were you going to tell me you loved me?” I laughed, my teeth grazing against his earlobe.

  “This is our second date. Of course not.” He shivered. “Would you have said it back?”

  “Mm. It’s too early to say for sure,” I told him, suddenly glad that he wasn’t facing me. Glad that he couldn’t see the way my eyes lit up at the prospect of it. The flash of fear that followed as I realized I’d never felt it before—let alone said the words. “This is our second date.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t say it, huh?”

  I held him a little tighter, unwilling to give this moment the slightest chance of flittering away from me.

  “You wanted to, though,” I said, suddenly smug. “On our second date, no less.”

  “How embarrassing for me,” he replied with a soft, tired laugh. “Just imagine what’ll happen by our third.”

  12

  Damon

  “Son of a bitch,” Nathan swore, rifling through the cupboard like it had just stolen his wallet. “I’m out of coffee.”

  I stood there in the kitchen, watching the way his shoulders flexed and rippled with every movement of his arms. He was only wearing sweatpants, which I never would’ve suspected to be a good look on a man—but then I’d seen Nathan in them, and now I doubted I’d ever be able to look at athletic wear the same way ever again.

  “It’s okay,” I finally said, moving behind him and pressing my body against his. I wound my hands up around his wrists, pulling them out of the cabinet and down to my side instead. “Although, I’m beginning to seriously question your grocery buying habits.”

  He laughed. “No condoms, no coffee…”

  “What kind of establishment are you running here anyway?” I teased.

  “And yet…” He turned, and somehow, my wrists ended up in his grasp. “You keep coming back here anyway.”

  “Bruff!” Lady yipped impatiently, nudging my ankle with her cold, wet nose the moment before Nate’s lips lowered to mine for a kiss.

  We both looked down at her, seeing the impatient little way her feet tippy-tapped against the floor.

  “At least I’ve still got dog food,” Nathan sighed, turning to the cupboard to get Lady her breakfast. “You sure you’re okay with no coffee? I could always make you a cup of tea or something.”

  I reeled back, giving him a judgmental look. “Tea? In the morning? What kind of New Yorker are you, anyway?”

  “The embarrassed kind, obviously.” He dumped a scoop of food into Lady’s bowl, appeasing the beast for the time being. She was looking at me with a little jealousy this morning, but I presumed it had less to do with an actual dislike of me and more to do with the fact that she’d spent the night on the couch.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I assured Nate. “I’ll grab some on my way into the club. Foster has some kind of brilliant new routine he wants us to work on—and there’s a Starbucks on the way to the pharmacy anyway.”

  “Mm. The morning-after pill. Right.” Nathan moved to his coat—the one he’d thrown onto the floor of the entryway when we came in last night. “Will three hundred cover it and some coffee? I don’t want you to go blowing all that lap dance money in one place.”

  I laughed as he offered me three crisp bills. “How much do you think the morning-after pill costs?”

  He shrugged, digging back into his wallet. “Five hundred, then. I feel really bad about—”

  I stopped his apology with a kiss. “Stop it. I asked you to do it, didn’t I?” Plucking one of the bills from his fingers, I shot him a grin. “It’s like sixty bucks, tops, Mr. Garnet. You should stop carrying so much cash on you, you know. You’ll get mugged.”

  “That happen a lot, out where you live?” He tucked the other bills back into his wallet. “This is a pretty safe neighborhood. I never really thought about it.”

  “Happens sometimes. If you’re stupid, anyway. The club takes in all our tips at night and direct deposits them into our bank accounts. Stops any potential scoundrels from getting any bright ideas.”

  “We should move you somewhere safer,” he mused. “There’s a gorgeous place down the block…”

  “Out of my price range,” I reminded him. “Even if you do keep trying to give me half a thousand dollars for basic medicine and coffee funds.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck apologetically. “I don’t mean to sound like such a rich asshole, you know.”

  “I know.” I pressed another kiss to his cheek, then scooped my coat up from the floor. “But then you open your mouth…”

  Nathan swatted at my ass and I squealed as I raced toward the door.

  “Have a good day,” he called after me. “I—”

  I paused in the doorway, but whatever he’d planned on saying, he waved it away with his fingertips.

  “Just, have a good day. Be safe, Mr. Bishop.”

  “You too, Mr. Garnet.” I blew him a little kiss before I closed the door.

  Flirtatious, bubbly and bright. Fuck, I normally wasn’t like this unless I was on the clock at work. But somehow, Nathan had found a way to bring out that side of me even when I wasn’t strapped up in a halo and angel wings.

  Or maybe, I considered, it was just the sex.

  The insanely good sex. I pulled my phone out of my pocket on my way to the elevator and pulled up Anders’ number.

  I have something exciting to tell you, I messaged him, grinning as I typed the words. If anyone wanted to hear me brag about the incredible night I’d spent with Nathan, it was Anders—and for once, I was actually in the mood to brag.

  It wasn’t until I got to the ground floor that I remembered the single sour note of the evening—that awful-almost-I-love-you that Nathan had called me out on just as I’d started to say the words.

  It had been stupid of me, in hindsight. Downright idiotic. We’d had sex, sure, but that didn’t mean I needed to go blurting out shit like that just because I was too cock-struck to stop myself. In the moment, though…part of me had just been so blissed out and happy, lying there in Nathan’s arms, that for some ridiculous reason, it’d felt right.

  I wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not if I wanted to see Nathan again. While my initial judge of his character might’ve been somewhat off, dropping an I love you after the first time we’d slept together was one of those things that tended to scare an Alpha off faster than a racehorse on derby day. Love didn’t happen like that—he’d obviously just fucked me so well, all those brilliant sex hormones were getting the best of me. I liked him, sure—but not love. Not yet.

  The coffee shop was crowded by the time I got to it—this far into the nicer part of town this early in the morning, it was equally filled with grumpy businessmen and wide-eyed tourists. I gave my order to the barista—caramel macchiato, skim milk—then loitered around waiting for it to arrive. Anders hadn’t texted me back yet, which was strange. Usually, he was so attached to his phone that he was more prompt than this. But it was early still. He was probably sleeping off a hangover—or maybe still doing his own walk of shame home.

  “Hey—Damon?”

  I lo
oked up from my phone, expecting to see the barista with a hot cup of coffee for me. Instead, I was met with the gaze of a strange Alpha with amber eyes, clad in a business suit and five o’clock shadow that suggested he’d been out all night as well.

  I sighed as I saw the way he looked at me. It happened sometimes—clients from the club recognizing the dancers on the off hours. Not wanting to disappoint him, I shifted my lips into a polite smile.

  “Hi there. Do I know you?” I said awkwardly. Didn’t know what else to say.

  “Damon,” he said again, eyes lighting up with recognition. “You’re Garnet’s latest catch, aren’t you? Recognized you from the pictures.” He looked me up and down, tongue slicking out across his lips. “They were pretty good, but let me tell you—they don’t do you near enough justice. Not even close.”

  “I, uh…Thanks,” I said with a laugh. “I didn’t realize Nathan even had pictures of me. Are you two…friends?”

  “Coworkers. Duncan Rourke, at your service.” He struck a broad hand out and gingerly, I shook it—noticing the way he held my grip for a moment too long. “Can I buy your coffee? It’s not often that I run into Nathan’s flings in the wild like this.”

  “It’s already paid for,” I told him, forcing that polite smile of mine to endure for a little while longer. I didn’t like that word—fling. It was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid with Nate—and now, here I was, stuck with the label anyway. “Thanks, though.”

  “Shame. It’s going to be harder to impress you if you won’t let me wave my wallet around.”

  My laugh was even more awkward this time. “Why on earth would you need to do that?”

  Duncan shrugged, giving me a cheeky wink. “You know how Garnet is. Hit ‘em and quit ‘em. And you…well, I don’t have to tell you how good looking you are…”

  I swallowed hard, my smile slipping away as my heart dropped down into my stomach. “I’m not sure that I follow.”

  He blinked, some kind of strange realization catching in his eyes. “Are you…planning on seeing him again?”

  “I was…uh, hoping for it, I guess?” My stomach churned at every new word out of Duncan’s mouth. Is that what Nate really thought of me now that I’d finally given in and fucked him? He’d seemed so affectionate this morning… “I’ve gotta go to class, actually.”

  I moved to the door, but Duncan blocked my path, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I’m really sorry. When Nathan mentioned you, I guess I didn’t realize how serious things were. Where’s class? I can always give you a lift. A completely platonic lift,” he reassured me. “An apology lift. I’m sorry, I’m an ass.”

  I bit my lip. “NYU. It’s not far from here—no lift necessary.”

  “NYU, huh? That’s funny—Jim here is on the scholarship board. Hey, Jim—”

  Duncan nudged the man behind him with his elbow. I groaned as he was momentarily distracted—after what Duncan had just told me about Nathan, dealing with yet another rich Alpha was the last thing I wanted to do with my morning.

  But then the man turned, and so did my tides. The red hair. The beady eyes. The stitches cutting through one eyebrow, only half-healed from where Nathan had split the skin there open with his fist.

  Our eyes locked on each other, mine wide with anxiety, his glimmering with hate.

  “Jim, Damon here goes to NYU. Fancy that, huh? Say, Damon, what program are you—wait, where are you going?”

  It didn’t matter. As far as I was concerned, neither Duncan Rourke nor his asshole friend needed to know. Fuck the coffee, and fuck rehearsal—I was going home. Immediately.

  Before anything else when wrong.

  “You forgot your macchiato!” the barista called after me as I shouldered my way through the crowd and out the door.

  13

  Nathan

  I stepped into the office that morning looking like a million bucks and feeling like two million.

  Unfortunately, the first thing I learned upon sitting down at my desk was that overnight, I’d somehow managed to lose three.

  “Mornington account,” Don Sterling said grimly, slapping their file down on my desk. “Just heard this morning that they’re switching over to Hayward Financial.”

  “Those dumb fucks?” My brow twisted as I flipped open their latest reports. I’d done right by the Morningtons—which, knowing the Morningtons, didn’t mean shit. They’d lost everything in the Great Depression and again in the housing market collapse of ‘08. It had been my first case when I’d signed on to Sterling Enterprises—convince the Morningtons to let me handle investments on fortune number three they’d managed to build themselves back up from nothing again. Sterling hadn’t thought it was possible. I’d earned my stripes when I proved him wrong. They were resilient folks, the Morningtons, but for understandable reasons, flighty as they came. “Why the hell are they jumping ship?”

  “Hayward made an appearance out in Los Angeles himself, from the sounds of things. Took the time to sit them down to some nice Japanese fusion cuisine and fed them sake until they warmed up to him.”

  “The last thing that warmed up to Malcolm Hayward was his own asshole after too many jalapeno poppers at Chili’s,” I swore. “Must’ve been some sake.”

  “Must’ve been.” Sterling’s dark brow was set in its perpetual don’t fuck this up line. “I’m sending you out there. Fix this.”

  “Can’t Griffin handle this? He knows Hayward’s pitch style better than I do.”

  “With a baby on the way? Not happening. Besides, they’re your client. Shouldn’t have to remind you, Garnet.”

  Christ, Sterling was a hard-ass. It had made the company what it was today, but still. An annoying trait to deal with when the chips were down.

  “When?” I glanced at the calendar on my computer—I had shit going on all week, not even mentioning finding time to take Damon out again. “I should be free next Thursday or so…”

  “Not next Thursday. You’re leaving today. Cassandra will send you the details.” He rapped his knuckles on the wooden top of my desk—always the superstitious type. “Good luck, Garnet.”

  I waited until he was out of my office with the door closed behind him to slam my own fist down onto my desk.

  “Fuck.” I had to say it aloud, or else it was going to rattle around behind my teeth for the rest of the day. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  Months of nothing but success—win after win after win—and now, of all times, my biggest client was deciding that they had issues. I’d tripled their portfolio in their first month with us, for fuck’s sake. But of course, now that I’d met someone worth actually sticking around in New York for, it was California, here I come.

  I texted Damon immediately. Didn’t even have to think about it. We hadn’t made plans yet, but I knew how sketchy it sounded on paper. Hey, I know I just fucked you last night, but I’m disappearing to California for the next week. Bye!

  God, he was going to hate me.

  But then I remembered that intimate little moment we’d shared last night—the one where I was sure he was about to say I love you before he fell asleep in my arms. The second moment this morning when he’d left and I’d nearly said it as well. We were falling for each other faster than oil prices in the winter. It’d never happened to me before, but there it was. And surely if it was real—if it wasn’t just something I’d pulled out of my imagination and spun into existence—then a week in California wouldn’t hurt it. If the self-help books my Omega father had always been reading were to be believed, it would only make us stronger.

  Business in California. Leaving tonight. I saw how grim the words looked even as I typed them. They even felt grim—like a knife slipped in between the ribs in the dark. Want me to get any celebrity autographs for you?

  I placed my phone back on my desk and stared at it for longer than I should have, hoping for an answer. A have fun in Cali! maybe, or a fly safe, Mr. Garnet.

  Nothing. Another five minutes, and nothing still.


  I sighed, putting my phone back into my pocket and gathering up my things. He was probably in rehearsal already, dancing his sexy ass off up there on the Ballroom’s stage. I just hoped he’d get the message before I had to leave. When I glanced at the email with my flight plans on it, I realized I wouldn’t even have time to swing by to steal a kiss if I didn’t want to miss my flight.

  It sucked, but that was business. I’d known when I followed in my Alpha father’s footsteps that I’d spend a lot of time away from the people I cared about. The only difference between dear old dad and I was that he hadn’t really cared about the family he was leaving behind, and I’d never expected to meet anyone I really cared about in the first place.

  Funny how this kind of shit found ways to work itself out just in time to go straight to hell.

  “Cassandra,” I said sweetly as I came up to the front desk. “Do me a favor and forward my calls to my cell?”

  “Sure thing, Nate.” She adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses and made a note of it. “Excited for your big trip?”

  “Not in the slightest.” I moved to leave, then paused. I wanted a failsafe. I didn’t want to fuck this up. “Especially if a Damon Bishop calls, okay? I know I’ll be on a time difference, but don’t be afraid of waking me up.”

  Her dark red lips curled into a smile. “Surely the unconquerable Nathan Garnet hasn’t finally fallen for someone.”

  “He might have.” I grinned back at her. “But just so we’re clear, I’m the one who does the conquering.”

  I slipped on my coat as I powered out to the elevator. It’d be a pain in the ass, getting around in time for my flight, but if I got in the right cab I’d probably make it—if only just. I checked my phone again on the way back to my apartment, hoping that Damon had responded. Maybe he’d be able to take Lady—she didn’t particularly like flying, and she had a bad habit of chasing the housekeeper into the bathroom if I left her there while I was away.