His Father’s Addiction

CHAPTER 7

HAZEL

The moment we hit the streets of the carnival, I knew I had made the right decision.

This was it. This was exactly the type of energy I needed. Music pouring out from every direction, colours exploding against the night sky, strangers dancing like nobody was keeping records.

"This is beautiful! Let's go over there, sir, come on."

I grabbed his hand and pulled.

I had moved him about four steps before my brain sent an urgent memo to my body.

Hazel, that is Elvis Laurent. Let go of the man's hand right now.

I dropped it immediately.

Opps. He is still your boss, Hazel.

If he noticed, he didn't say anything. He simply fell into step beside me, hands in his pockets, surveying the carnival the way he probably surveyed everything else in his life.

But I noticed something else.

The simple black sleeveless top and fitted pants he had changed into made him look more handsome.

He looked younger somehow, lighter. Like the suits were the thing carrying all the years, and without them, he was just a tall, well-built man with sharp eyes and grey temples that honestly worked very well for him.

Damn! His boy is hot. Something he clearly could not pass down to his son.

The thought of Jarvis arrived uninvited, and I swept it away immediately, not tonight.

Body artists were lined up along both sides of the street, each surrounded by a small crowd watching as designs appeared on skin like magic. Florals, patterns, things that looked ancient and beautiful.

I looked at Elvis's bare arms. Then I looked at the artists.

"Sir." I turned to him with my most responsible expression. "I think you should get your sleeves painted. It's only temporary, washes right off. Trust me, it will look amazing."

His brows came together. One hand lifted, a slow dismissive wave.

"No way. I won't do that."

"Come on, sir, you will like it. I understand you are old and scared of trying new things…"

"I am not old." He cut me off immediately.

I pressed my lips together very hard, struggling not to laugh.

"Fine. It better look decent, otherwise you are fired."

Whatever that means. I grabbed his arm before he could reconsider and steered him straight to the nearest artist.

While the artist worked on Elvis, the dancers moved closer to where we stood, and honestly, that drumline gave me absolutely no choice.

I am a badass dancer. Betty would always joke that my hips don't lie.

I joined them immediately and swung those hips. This felt so good.

At some point, I glanced back toward Elvis.

He was watching me, here we go, he is enjoying the show.

Then he caught me looking and moved his face elsewhere, interesting.

I danced for the longest time. Eventually, I made my way back to him.

The artist had finished, and I stopped when I saw the result. The sleeve design ran from his shoulder down to his wrist, dark and intricate and honestly stunning.

"Now you look like a bad boy, T", I giggled

"You want to try something else while we're at it?"

He turned and looked at me with that strong look.

I zipped my mouth immediately. This man is a joy killer.

"I am good," he said. "Go and have fun. I will sit here and look around."

"Okay, sir, scream my name if you need anything, and I'll come find you." I picked up my bag. "By the way, you look so good in those clothes. More of this, sir, less of the suits."

I was already back in the crowd before he could respond.

The dancing took me again, and I gave it everything I had, right up until someone in the crowd laughed exactly like my mother's laugh.

My feet slowed, my chest ached.

I shrugged my shoulders and continued laughing with the rest.

########

When I next opened my eyes, it was morning.

Last night was a blast. I had so much fun before we finally headed back to the hotel. Honestly, I still couldn’t believe Elvis actually came with me.

Day 6 of making Elvis mine.

At this point, I sounded like a broken record.

My phone buzzed for the third time. Groaning, I lazily reached for it on the bedside stand.

Not again. A message from Elvis. ‘Come over with your laptop.’

I checked the time immediately, 11 a.m.

I had slept for way too long.

I rushed out of bed, brushed my teeth, took a quick shower, and threw on something decent before hurrying over to his room with my laptop.

“Good morning, sir.”

“I highlighted some discrepancies. Study the Excel sheet and work on it. I have somewhere to be,” he said

No response to the greeting.

His tone was back to being cold and annoyingly professional.

So last night meant absolutely nothing to him? Such a hard nut to c***k.

“Okay, sir.”

Before I could ask another question, he grabbed a car key and left the room.

I dropped my laptop on the table and picked up his instead, opening the spreadsheet immediately.

My whole body ached slightly from last night’s activities. Dancing for hours in heels should honestly be considered a punishment.

The chair wasn’t helping either. Neither was the uncomfortable posture.

I stretched my neck slowly while staring at the screen.

One more cell to go, just one.

Maybe I should stretch properly before finishing it.

I got up and collapsed carelessly onto the bed.

God, this bed was too soft.

I only wanted to rest my back for a minute.

I didn’t even know when my eyes closed.

But when I opened them again, Elvis was standing in front of me with murder in his eyes.

“Are you mad?”