Page 80 of Third Time is the Charm (Passion and Perseverance #3)

Tristan couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him at her awkwardness, kicking himself for how easily she was able to get underneath his skin without even trying.

No, this was unacceptable.

She was dangerous – not that he could imagine it based on her demeanor these past two minutes, but then again, he would never have expected a man of Jack Carter’s stature and personality to blackmail him either.

No, no one in this family could be trusted that was for damn sure.

Who knows what their plan was? Maybe it was to blackmail him even further now that they, or at least Jack, knew his identity?

For what, he couldn’t fathom… more pieces?

Money? Fame? It didn’t matter; he needed to be on his game and he couldn’t afford to be distracted by this woman no matter how much he wanted to be.

Acknowledging that want had him shifting in his seat, trying to adjust how uncomfortably tight she’d made his jeans feel.

Dammit, Tristan, you’re a fucking pro at this, so start acting like it.

His lips thinning into a hard line, his eyes narrowing on the string of women in front of him as he stood up, relieving the pressure on his annoyingly physical response to her.

Walking over to the beginning of the line, he stood directly in front of the first blond who had entered the room, looking her up and down.

Normally, he would be assessing the models to see if they were the right fit for his piece and to see their response to being in such close proximity with him, except this time, it was just for show.

He eyed the voluptuous blond, who not only enjoyed the attention, but craved it, her breathing becoming deeper to accentuate the rise and fall of her chest. Normally, he would have been paying attention, if for no other reason than to be amused by the blatant attempt to seduce him into choosing her; this time, he couldn’t help but find the woman tacky.

The only thing that he could focus on was in the periphery of his vision, watching Ellie’s reaction, out of the corner of his eye, to every move that he made.

He could see that she had stepped out a little farther from the line to see what he was doing, unconcerned with her blatant curiosity of his interest in the other models.

In comparison, the two brunettes next to the blond number, just stared straight ahead at Morgan, intentionally ignoring the attention he was giving to the first model.

Moving down the line, those same two brunettes responded in the exact same way to him – by subtly trying to emphasize their physical attributes, or catching his eyes with a look that said they were eager to give him more.

So far, Ellie had done nothing but watch; she’d given no hint that she was as affected by him as he was by her and that pissed him off.

The third woman in line, one of the brunettes, was particularly suggestive with her body language, so Tristan decided to take his assessment a little farther to see if he could get some reaction out of the siren.

His hands came up to thread his fingers through the model’s hair.

For a moment, even she seemed surprised by his action, but she transitioned quickly into an eager player.

She licked her lips, giving him a sultry smile before letting her head fall back against the slight pressure of his hands; she played the part perfectly for what he’d wanted to see.

She looked enraptured by his touch, and he began to lean in close.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ellie’s jaw drop, her mouth parting slightly and eyes widening.

God, he wanted nothing more than to kiss that innocent look of surprise right off of her face.

Ellie’s tongue darted out to lick her lower lip before pulling it in and biting on it anxiously. The unconscious movement making his erection painfully hard against the firm denim of his jeans. Tristan had to bite his own lip from groaning out loud.

What he wouldn’t give to taste her, to pull that softly plump lower lip into his own mouth.

Shit, he was such a moron. The shot of anger that ran through him at his apparent lack of control pushed him farther than he would have normally gone in an audition.

He closed the space between his face and that of the model, whose head he was still holding.

Leaning in, he was about to let his lips graze the model’s jawline, when a split second before he kissed her, the damn siren dropped her clipboard. Again.

The noise and her embarrassment shattered the moment. Tristan immediately stepped back from the woman in front of him and watched with pleasure as Ellie chaotically tried to gather everything back up from the floor; finally standing, to reveal that her face had turned beet red with mortification.

Now that was what he was looking for.

He had craved her reaction to him; he had craved to unnerve her like she had unknowingly done to him.

A brief glance at the model who he’d just been entangled with showed a smug smile spread over her face, not too much bigger than the smiles on the rest of the women in line, confidently believing that there was one less person that they had to worry about losing this gig to.

With a smile on his face, he walked down to the end of the line, past all the other models, to stand right in front of Elsa.

That was his first mistake.

Being so close to her only made her effect on him even worse. The subtle smell of warm vanilla permeated his nostrils, intensifying his arousal.

God, she smelled delectably sweet.

His gaze captured her vibrant green eyes, and he knew that his desire was etched across his features; he was surprised when she didn’t back away; for some reason, he had expected her too.

But no, she stood her ground and stared back, even though color flooded her cheeks again, she didn’t drop his gaze.

Her lips parted again and Tristan’s fist clenched as it took every fiber of his being not to lean down and take her mouth, wondering if it would taste as warm and sweet as she smelled.

She was too much, he needed to distance himself before he lost all control.

He just wanted a little more, to be a little closer. Holding her gaze, he leaned in ever so slowly so that he didn’t startle her, leaned in next to her ear, feeling the heat or desire and anticipation radiate off of her, unsure of what he was going to do next.

“My name is Tristan Black, but don’t worry, Miss Carter, you’re going to get to know me very well,” he whispered huskily into her ear. Moving his face away from hers, he stepped back, looking down the line.

“Thank you for coming, ladies. That will be all,” he said unemotionally, watching the looks of shock and horror cross over their faces, realizing that they had lost the audition to the awkward and clumsy redhead.

The same redhead who didn’t even realize that his statement implied that she was to stay. Ellie ducked her head and had barely turned to move towards the door, when Tristan reached out with a vise-like grip on her wrist.

Another mistake.

The softness of her skin underneath the few fingertips that managed to reach underneath her blazer, burned him.

She was on fire; or maybe he was. Her breath caught at the first touch of his hand, her face jerking back to face him.

Quickly dropping her arm before he really did something that he couldn’t control or would regret, he let his gaze sear into her, making what he said next very clear.

“Not you,” Tristan said, his voice silky smooth, demanding her presence.

The reserved half of the group walked out in disappointment, the rest, especially the one brunette who had good cause to believe she might be chosen, stalked out of the room, giving him the evil eye as they went.

The first blond even had the nerve to wink at Morgan sitting back behind the table, with the hope that maybe he might be able to do something for her – or that she might be able to do something for him.

Finally, it was just Ellie and him left standing, while Morgan watched the whole scene play out in front of him with intense interest.

“Wonderful,” Tristan said, breaking the silence, taking Ellie’s clipboard from her and strolling back over to the table where Morgan sat.

He made brief eye contact with Morgan as he sat the clipboard down in front of him, choosing to ignore the perplexed and questioning look that Morgan returned.

What had just happened wasn’t typical for Tristan; Pierce, maybe, but not Tristan.

Usually, he just sat behind the table and watched Pierce make all the models either excited or uncomfortable with his blatantly sexual overtures.

Tristan usually kept his distance during the audition, and he definitely didn’t this time, and he was sure that Morgan was going to ask him about it.

“Miss Carter,” he began, turning back to his siren.

She’s not yours. Yet.

The thought brought a devious smile to his face as he walked back over to her.

“We’ll continue the process tomorrow. Come to one fifty-seven west fifty-seventh street tomorrow at noon,” he instructed quietly, keeping some distance from her, and ignoring the cough that came from behind him, from Morgan.

He was already going to be in pain for the rest of the afternoon; he’d already let himself be taken unawares by her. He needed some space.

“Oh, ok. Of course,” she stuttered. “Is that it? For today? I mean, do you have any questions for me? Do I need to fill anything out? Well, I mean, I know I filled out those other forms, but… I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

She stopped and laughed at herself. Tristan wanted nothing more than to be able to silence her with a kiss.

Soon.

“That’s it for today, Miss Carter,” he clarified. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Of course, thank you so much,” she said, gracing him with a gorgeous smile that lit up her emerald eyes. “Oh, you can call me Ellie. Miss Carter is just… well, just call me Ellie.”

Her hand came up to cover her mouth as she realized that she was rambling again. Mumbling a thank you, she turned and walked out of the room and Tristan was pretty sure he heard her stumble as soon as the door shut behind her; he couldn’t help himself from laughing.

“What was that all about?” Morgan’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Morgan was always so damn nosy.

“What do you mean?” Tristan replied, trying to play down his actions.

“All…that…” Morgan responded vaguely, gesticulating with his arms, trying to refer to what had just happened between Tristan and the models.

“It was nothing.”

The look Morgan gave him at his answer said that he didn’t believe him, and Tristan couldn’t afford any questions, or worse, having Morgan tell the rest of the guys how he had just behaved.

“Pierce wasn’t here to make them squirm. How can I judge if they are right for the piece if all they do it stand there? I needed to see some sort of reaction from them, and without Pierce, that left me to provoke it,” he continued with his explanation, coolly.

“I see,” Morgan responded, clearly processing Tristan’s response, wondering if it was just a little too believable.

“What?” Tristan pushed back, daring his business partner to question him.

“Nothing,” Morgan replied, his hands raising in mock submission before continuing. “So, what was up with the girl you picked though? Not usually your style.”

Tristan turned away from his friend, his jaw clenching in annoyance at having to explain everything that he had just done.

“I don’t know. Figured I’d try something different for this stupid competition that Pierce signed us up for.

None of the others intrigued me,” he responded casually as he began to gather the minimal things that he had brought with him, including the forms that the models had filled out.

His blood fired up at the thought of just how much she had intrigued him.

“Well, she was certainly different than the rest, that’s for sure,” Morgan said with a chuckle, “Elsa Carter… any chance she’s related to Jack Carter? The man who has your mom’s portrait.”

Fuck.

“I have no idea,” Tristan, turned to face Morgan, trying to reply as nonchalantly as possible, “it’s a pretty common name. Who knows, maybe she’s related to Jay-Z and Beyoncé, too.” His sarcastic retort might have been too much of a protest against the connection but he couldn’t take it back.

Morgan and he locked eyes and stared at each other for a moment, each trying to assess the truth of what the other was thinking; Tristan, daring Morgan to contradict him. A few seconds later, Morgan let his gaze fall with a heavy sigh.

“I hope you know what you are doing.”

Well, it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

“Winning, that’s what I’m doing,” Tristan responded with a confident smile as he started walking towards the door. “Thanks for arranging everything, man. Talk soon.”

“Oh hey!” Morgan exclaimed just before Tristan made it safely through the doorway, “did I hear you give her your apartment address?”

Fuck.

It wasn’t a codified rule, but there was a general assumption throughout the group that models weren’t to be taken to their private residences; too many potential problems, too much information to be gleaned.

What if they came back after the modeling contract period was up?

No, there was too much that could go wrong which is why they never did it.

Plus, it would have given the women an even greater sense of attachment to them, which was not what they were going for – or, at least he wasn’t.

But, this time, he had. He had asked her to come to his apartment, his home, and Morgan had heard.

“I rented space in the Park Hyatt,” Tristan replied, thinking quickly on his feet.

The Park Hyatt hotel sat below One57 and basically shared the same address.

“I see,” came Morgan’s hesitant response.

Tristan waited for another second to see if Morgan would question him again before walking out of the door, hoping that with some thought, Morgan would choose to believe him and forget about the whole thing.

Hopping in a cab, Tristan anxiously waited to get back to his place so that he could take a cold shower and punish his body for its traitorous thoughts.