The Gotham Hotel was the epitome of cool. It was edgy and chic, but with an Old New York history. The lobby was an intricate mix of contemporary art, all in black and white with an occasional splash of color, and classic photos of famous occupants over the years. The suited woman with a discreet headset manning the concierge desk looked more like an event planner managing a red-carpet event than a hotel employee. She eyed Emma for a moment. Assessing. Emma was wearing a black cashmere sleeveless turtleneck, black cropped jeans, and black Chanel ballet flats. Once the woman had satisfied herself that Emma was a nobody, she gave a cold smile.
“Yes?”
Emma met her frigid greeting with some ice of her own.
“Nathan Bishop?”
“Ah.”
She seemed to stop herself from adding, of course.
“Back bar. Down the hall.”
She gestured with the back of her hand dismissively. Emma wanted to clarify that she wasn’t some dessert he’d ordered, but she had no laptop or notebook to aid her in her quest to appear professional. This was just an introduction, after all, so she stuck out her chin and strode past.
As she moved cautiously down the empty hall, it suddenly hit her. She was about to have a drink with Nathan Bishop. She tried not to build him up too much, but she knew him—maybe better than anyone. The man she remembered was kind and thoughtful and caring and beautiful, and even though he didn’t know Emma Porter, surely their bond was still there. Her heart was racing, but as she took hesitant strides down the empty hallway, she noticed that wasn’t the only reaction she was having. There was a mist of perspiration forming at the back of her neck. Her nipples were straining against her lace bra, and between her legs, there was an unfamiliar warmth. She was aroused. It was a sensation she had never experienced before, but it was unmistakable. What the hell? It was like her body was anticipating the fairy tale that was waiting in the next room. She could picture it perfectly. He would be sitting in a booth gazing thoughtfully into his drink. Waiting. As she walked in, he would stand, and their eyes would lock. She could practically feel the electric zing as he would slowly walk toward her and take her hand in his.... She rounded the corner.
Record. Scratch.
Excitement turned to shock turned to dismay. Of course, Nathan saw none of this. He was talking on his phone in a small booth, laughing as if he’d just heard the funniest joke ever told. Crammed in across from him were two women, one of whom Emma immediately recognized as an infamous lingerie model, the other the face of a hip cosmetics brand. The lingerie model had one heeled gladiator sandal set gently on the seat of the opposite bench, between Nathan’s spread thighs. Cosmetics girl was sucking provocatively on the cherry from her cocktail. Nathan ended his call and pulled on the knot of his pink tie, then spread his thighs wider with a wink. All the while Emma stood dumbstruck. Who the fuck are you?
As if she’d spoken the question aloud, Nathan glanced up. Their eyes met, and for just a moment she saw a sweet, sincere look of recognition. Then it was gone, and a lascivious grin split his face. He waved her over with his tumbler, scotch splashing dangerously close to the rim. He then somehow dismissed his coterie, who pouted prettily and indicated they would be at the bar. Emma took their place in the booth. Nathan didn’t look up from his phone.
“Glad you were able to rearrange your plans, Ms. Porter.”
“Uh, yes, about that... I’m sorry. Your assistant took me by surprise.”
“I see.”
“I want you to know I’m available for you, Nathan. Whenever you want.”
He dropped his phone then quickly secured it. Was he drunk?
“Good. I’ve waited long enough for this.”
What?
“Excuse me?”
“Ms. Porter. How in-depth are you willing to go?”
“Very. I’d like to know the real you, make the article quite revealing.” She shuddered at her word choice. She didn’t want to be suggestive.
“Do you have a safe word?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sure you heard me. I was quite clear.”
The funny thing was, she did have a safe word. The word she texted JT in an emergency. Lighthouse. She thought about texting it now. Instead, she met the steely, drunken eyes across from her with some steel of her own.
“Yes.”
“Excellent.” Nathan pulled out a key card and polished off the last of his drink. “Shall we?”
“Shall we what?” She was genuinely confused.
“Take this upstairs. I keep a suite here.” He eyed Emma up and down and grinned. “For revealing interviews.” He tossed her word back.