James Cymone, a beacon of femininity in the realm of fashion, finds herself ensnared in the pulsating embrace of family ties. Bound closely to her cousin, the illustrious Andre Cymone, James comes to see fate orchestrate a charged encounter between...
"Please tell me you're not about to force-feed me French food because I'll run as soon as the car stops," I say with sass.
His laugh booms from his chest, honestly taking my breath away. The sight of him letting the facade fade like that makes me feel some type of way. It's rare to see moments like this. He's usually so calculating and in control.
"Come on, mama. You know I'm not into torture. Our dinner is waiting upstairs," he says, parking as a valet approaches the car.
He gets out and hands the keys over before coming to open my door. "Thank you, driver," I say, placing my hand in his.
A shy smile spreads across his face. "I'll drive you anywhere. Come on."
As we walk through the front of the hotel, cameras are going off left and right. The paps are throwing out questions like you wouldn't believe.
"Prince, did you exchange your young flavor of the month for a real woman?"
"James, what is it about Prince that keeps you coming back for more? You two have been seen everywhere together. Please share."
Prince pays them no mind; he just pulls me along securely as we enter the lobby. "Come on, mama, we have a private elevator," he says, leading the way.
When we make it up to the top, the doors open to reveal the penthouse suite. Kicking off my shoes at the door, I sigh in relief. Hearing him chuckle beside me, I slap his arm.
"It just kills me that no matter what, you're only truly comfortable with no shoes on," he says, smirking.
I pout cutely at him as the throb in my feet dulls. "My feet hate being confined. But heels are so pretty."
"And they look so sexy on your pretty little feet, Goldie," he says, pulling me more into the suite.
Well, it took long enough, but he finally bestowed one of his famous nicknames on me. "Goldie?"
"Yeah, I've always loved how your skin glows like gold," he says before switching his focus. "Stay here. I have to check things in the other room."
He disappears into another room, leaving me alone in the huge living area. A man comes out of the room opposite the one Prince just went into. I tense up and put my hand to my heart as it pounds in my chest.
"Oh my goodness, you scared me," I say a little jittery.
He frowns. "I'm sorry, miss. You must be James. I'm Gilbert Davison, Mr. Nelson's bodyguard," he says, bowing a little.
Okay, I'm loving the British accent, but bowing is a little much. What happened to Big Chick?
"Gil, I told you not to call me Mr. Nelson. He's my father," Prince says coming back into the main room. "Come on, James," he says, taking my hand.
Before the door closes behind us, I look back at Gilbert. "It was nice to meet you," I call as the door snaps shut.
"It was nice to meet you," Prince mocks rudely.
Really? "Whatever, Mr. Nelson is my father. Maturity is your middle name, Nelson. Why is he your bodyguard? What happened to Chick?"
"Oh... I had to let him go."
"What? Why?"
"I don't want to sour the mood with that story. Come on, I'm hungry," he says, and for the first time, I notice our surroundings.
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