Expose Them, sequel to Release Me (Editing)

23

Today has been an extremely tiring day since tomorrow night is the masquerade ball. Drained, I slide onto the wooden stool beside Derek.

"Long day?"

"Don't even ask," I mumble, burying my face in my hands.

He pulls them away his eyes gazing into mine. "How does ice cream sound?"

"Amazing," I smile.

He tugs on my hands and I follow close behind him.

...

The cool pistachio mint ice cream drips down my chin. Derek wipes it away, his strong callused fingers burning hot.

"I have to admit, New York sure does have the BEST ice cream."

He chuckles. "Then you must have not tried the gelato that they have in Venice. I never have tasted such fine whipped cream before."

"Venice, you've been to Venice." My eyes are wide.

He smiles. "My father is the president of the United States, I've been all over the world with him."

"Lucky you." I take another lick of my ice cream, feeling his eyes searing into me. It hits me hard in the face. "Oh, I didn't mean that you're lucky having him as a father, I meant that..."

He silences me with a sweet kiss, surprising me. When he pulls away I blush, noticing the few other people in the ice cream parlor watching us. I hope that none of them are spies of President White.

"Ignore them," Derek whispers, helping me to my feet.

"Where are we going?"

He gives me a flirtatious smile as he leads me out of the store to the parked cycle. "Somewhere quiet."

"Sounds good." I climb onto the cycle behind him, my arms wrapping around his waist.

We drive off, heading for one of the tallest skyscrapers in New York City.

...

"I never really showed this place to anyone before, but you're special so...," Derek blushes as he presses his thumb to the keypad. Seeing him uncomfortable and flustered is so adorable.

The door opens and we enter the penthouse.

I gape like a codfish, my eyes popping out of their sockets. I've never seen anything so---so expensive looking before. This place must cost a fortune! I seem to always forget that Derek's a rich boy, but I guess that's because he doesn't seem to flaunt his wealth.

My ballet flats squeak on the shiny marble floor as I follow Derek to the balcony.

"This is the highest viewpoint in all of New York."

"It's beautiful," I breathe, walking up to the stone railing and leaning over. The city lies out before me in all its glory. Twinkling neon lights make everything glow. I spot Central Park, our apartment, and the ice cream parlor. They look like little toys from all the way up here.

"I know." Derek comes up behind me, his chin burying itself in my messy waves and his warm hands brushing my hips. "I used to come out here every night."

"What is this place?" I glance back into the dimly lit penthouse, making out the stark white sofa and red armchairs in the living room.

He follows my gaze, his eyes sad. "This place belonged to my mother. I grew up here."

I close my eyes at those four last words, trying to imagine him as a young boy sitting on the sofa, his legs dangling as he munches on a cookie, crumbs like tiny ants dotting the floor.