“We were at a sex club watchin’ a guy whip his bitch and work her pussy with his hand. Shit happened and I had her against the wall. After, I told her I wasn’t done with her. She wrote her number on my palm. That’s how it worked.”
“Jesus, made of stone or not, Olivia Shade is fuckin’ gorgeous so I’m gettin’ hard just thinkin’ about her writing her number on my palm. Seein’ as I’m at work, not even gonna think about the other.”
And Nick was not going to think about why he immediately and unfathomably felt pissed at Turner telling him something about Olivia fucking Shade was making him go hard.
Turner wasn’t done.
“And if I was acknowledging the existence of this alleged sex club, I’d ask how much VIP membership costs.”
“Twenty-five thousand dollars a year.”
“Fuck.”
“Lucky you know the owner.”
“No I don’t.”
That made Nick chuckle.
“Stay sharp,” Turner ordered.
“Later,” Nick returned.
They disengaged.
Nick tossed his phone to the counter and moved through his place to his bathroom to take a shower.
He was at his desk in his office three and a half hours later when he texted her.
Hotel Teatro. Six o’clock. I’ll text the room number later.
He did not identify himself.
She made him wait.
In fact, she didn’t reply until he’d sent his assistant to check in, got the room number and texted it to her.
Which was at four fifteen.
And when she did, she only texted, 6:00.
That was it.
A cool customer.
But absolutely not made of stone.
Chapter Five
Funny
Olivia
8:15 a.m. – Nine Hours Earlier
Sitting at my desk, I wasn’t working at my computer.
I was staring at my cell phone.
This was stupid.
Insane, really.
But I was and I was doing it in hopes he’d call or at least text.
As I’d been doing since I got home last night, late, wanting him to say something, start something, give me a reason to explain why I believed, why I responded to him the way I’d done.
This was insane too and not simply because, to start something, something minimally real, something somewhat normal, would be dangerous but also because I’d been the woman sitting next to him at a sex club who got up and made my way to him, making it clear what I wanted.
A quick, hard fuck with a stranger.
Did something real or normal start like that?
I had no idea.
I just doubted it did.
But I was wanting it, hoping for it, glancing then staring then glaring at my phone like I could make magic happen and get it.
And I needed to stop doing that.
Perhaps in the heat of the moment in an intimately lit sex club after getting an orgasm from a woman he’d never met, Nick Sebring would think he wanted more.
In the light of day, he probably thought differently. And even in the world in which he lived, if he didn’t already have a steady woman who I’d assisted him in cheating on last night, he’d be looking for one who was absolutely not like me.
The woman he would look for would probably be like his brother’s woman, Anya. Exceptionally beautiful, warmth radiating out of every pore. A woman who owned and operated a salon and had nothing to do with Knight’s business. A woman so far out of our world, the only reason I knew what she looked like was because I saw her in her private section in Knight’s nightclub, Slade, when I went there for a drink and to pick someone up to fuck.
I resolutely turned from my phone to my computer, where my email was on the screen.
I grabbed my mouse and hit refresh even though I’d only sent the email to David ten minutes earlier. A carefully worded request that was really a demand that he send all the accounts and other pertinent reports by noon that day.
Not surprisingly, David had not replied.
My eyes slid to my phone.
This had to stop.
I straightened in my chair, looked back to my computer and got to work.
* * * * *
Three Hours, Fifteen Minutes Later
My phone sounded.
My eyes shot to it before I snatched it up.
I stared at the text long enough for the screen to fade to blank.
Hotel Teatro. Six o’clock. I’ll text the room number later.
Oh God, he’d texted.
God, he wanted to see me again.
I touched my thumb to the button on the bottom of my phone to engage it. I went to texts.
I was about to reply when I stopped.
Sebring wanted one of two things.
A fuck from me, this time since we’d have a bed and privacy that fuck (maybe) lasting longer.
Or, less likely but still an option, he wanted to start something minimally real and somewhat normal.
Outside of what I knew of him, I did not know the man. I knew he looked good, sounded good and felt great.
But I knew nothing else. We hadn’t kissed so I didn’t even know how he tasted.
What I did know was that no man deserved the kind of hassle I could bring into his life.
I closed my eyes, feeling that realization settle around my heart so heavy, it felt like it was struggling to beat.
This surprised me since I lived with that sensation every moment of every day of my life. Except for some reason this heavy felt a lot heavier.
I put my phone down and turned my attention back to my computer.
It was half an hour later and I was at the espresso maker across the room finishing making my second espresso of that morning when I heard the tone from my computer telling me I’d received email.
I went back to my desk and saw an email from David.
No attachments. No accounts. No reports. No files at all.