Free Derailed II by Nelle L'Amour

1

    I ’D NEVER BEEN IN A convertible before, let alone a Bentley. I was loving every minute of it. As Ari zoomed uptown, my ponytail whipped across my face. My eyes darted between the city streets, the car’s rich tan leather and veneer interior, and Ari’s gorgeous, but unreadable profile.
    “So, come on, tell me where we’re going,” I begged him. We were getting close to his apartment.
    “If I tell you, will you play with my Pac-Man?”
    I glanced down at the bulge between his legs and felt myself flushing. Tingles rushed to my core. “Sure,” I stammered. “But not in front of your son.”
    Ari’s lush lips curved into a smile. “Southampton. I have a house there.”
    Southampton was the summer playground of New York’s elite. It figured that Trainman would have a second residence there. My stomach bunched up with nerves. Two questions pummeled my head: 1. What was I going to wear? (I didn’t exactly come packed for a weekend at the beach), and 2. Where was I going to sleep?
    I put my mental ramblings on hold when Ari’s stately Park Avenue apartment building came into view. His adorable six-year-old son Ben was already standing under the awning, holding a canvas overnight bag in one hand and the toy train I’d given him in the other. Dressed in khaki shorts, an oversized Spiderman t-shirt, and a New York Yankees baseball cap, he waved to us as we pulled up.
    “Isn’t Luisa coming?” I asked Ari.
    “No, I’ve given her the rest of the weekend off. Olga and her husband Vadim will be waiting for us at The Hamptons house.”
    More of Ari’s staff.
    The doorman helped Ben put his bag into the trunk, and then the little boy climbed over the rear door into the backseat.
    “Sarah, that’s so cool you’re coming with us.”
    Ari chimed in before I had a chance to utter a word. “Yes, it is so cool she can come.”
    I jerked my head in his direction, raising an eyebrow. What did he mean by that? While his vision remained focused straight ahead, he was well aware my eyes were on him. The corner of his mouth again curled into a wicked grin that sent a pang of desire to my core.

    We spent the next two and a half hours cruising down the Long Island Freeway and later Sunrise Highway at eighty miles an hour, listening to lots of music that Ari had programmed for the trip from Frank Sinatra to Bob Marley to We Are Giants, Ben’s favorite group. There wasn’t much traffic as most New Yorkers had left yesterday to get an early start on the three-day Memorial Day weekend. The sound of the wind whipping against the car and the loud music made conversation virtually impossible. Fortunately for me, the combination had a calming effect, allowing me the bliss of mindlessness instead of my normal stream of worries. Ben quietly played games on an iPad while Ari stayed focused on the road. I glanced over to him occasionally, admiring his tanned biceps and the way the wind ruffled his golden hair. I had to resist the urge to run my fingers through it. God, he was gorgeous.
    We finally exited the highway and began coursing down a more rustic road. After twenty or so minutes and several turns, the unmistakable smell of the salty ocean mingled with the fresh, fragrant country air. We passed a sign that read “Welcome to Southampton,” and several turns later we were cruising down an oceanfront road lined with mansion after mansion. We soon pulled up to electronic gates that opened like butterfly wings after Ari hit a button on his elaborate dashboard. Ben shouted out, “Yay! We’re here!”
    Upon entering the property, the car traversed a long pebbled driveway that wound past pastures of grass, beds of roses, and other wild flowers. Finally we pulled up to a rambling two-story gray shingled house with lots of wraparound white terraces. Despite its grand size, it didn’t reek of pretentiousness.
    A big-boned woman with high Slavic cheekbones and a man who resembled Charles Bronson in his heyday instantly came out the