by Hamel, B. B.
“The SPAC is going to work,” Rees said, gesturing with his fist, hitting it into his open palm. “It’s not fancy, and it’s not exciting, but I have some companies in mind already. Electric cars, solar panels, that sort of thing.”
“Green energy,” Mirko said, nodding. “All the rage.”
“The future,” Rees said. “Whether we like it or not. Come with me, give me money, and I’ll make sure you profit.”
“I don’t know,” Mirko said and glanced toward me. “I’ll admit, I’m tempted, and flush at the moment. Perhaps I could invest, but perhaps not. I’ll tell you this, I will consider it.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
“Come back tomorrow, and I will have answer for you, yes?”
“Fine.” Rees stood then, and I realized the meeting was over. We’d barely talked specifics, and there’d been almost no convicting. I thought we’d have to sell him more on the structure and the company and all that crap, or at least push the narrative that he’s dating me and we’re a happy couple and whatever, but instead it was finished. We shook hands, and left back through the house.
“What the hell was that back there?” I asked Rees once we were out front again. I felt dizzy, like something spun me in circles, and left me there to catch my breath. “You barely talked about the SPAC or whatever the hell it is.”
“I know,” he said, his expression clouding. The town car waited a few feet away, but he didn’t move to get inside. “I told you, Mirko’s a strange one. You can’t talk too much business.’
“You talked about that weird trade he made plenty.”
He frowned a little and shook his head. “Buttering him up. Trust me, the next time we go over, that’ll be the real thing. This was a dress rehearsal.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “And what the hell was that comment?”
He winced slightly, eyes shut like he’d be slapped in the face. “Mirko has a penchant.”
“For what?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. Women half his age, especially ones that were out of reach.
“Just, don’t go anywhere alone with him, okay?” He stared at me and I was surprised by the intensity. “I don’t think he’d hurt you, but I don’t want to take the chance.”
“Are you worried about me?” I asked, genuinely curious. He didn’t seem like the type to worry—in fact, he seemed like the type to push me into a compromising situation, if it meant that he’d get what he wanted.
“Yes,” he said. “Now let’s get back to the hotel. We have to decide where we’re sleeping.”
“I don’t know the sound of that.”
He smirked slightly and opened the door for me. “Since we’re dating, I only got one room.”
I groaned and climbed into the car. Of course he only got one room, even though nobody remotely involved in all this would be at the hotel, and nobody would look twice if I had my own space.
“You’re on the couch,” I said, as he got in and shut the door. “Or on the floor. Whatever you prefer.”
“If that’s how you want to play it,” he said, shrugging a little, and the driver pulled out into traffic. “But I thought it’d be better if we shared.
I rolled my eyes and looked out the window again, trying not to think about Mirko staring at me, or the single room I was about to share with Rees—and the single bed he most definitely wanted me in.
4
Rees
My back ached like hell the next morning and for ten minutes, as I sat in the suite’s adjoining living area and drank some coffee, I regretted not getting Millie her own room. It would’ve been nice, sleeping in a real bed, instead of on that god-awful couch that looked much more expensive than it felt.
At least until she stepped out with her messy bedhead, wearing a tight t-shirt that showed off her half-hard nipples and a pair of black tights clinging to her curves. Then suddenly my stupid decision was very much worth it.
“Morning,” she said, poured herself some coffee, and sat on the couch with her legs tucked under her where my face had been only an hour before.
“Morning,” I said, gazing at her. “I already went to the gym and took a shower down there. And here you are, just getting out of bed.”
“I didn’t realize I had to be up on your schedule.”
“Everything’s on my schedule, darling.” I took a long sip of my coffee and debated telling her the bad news. I didn’t want to start the day off like this, but I didn’t have much of a choice. “Mirko emailed me last night. He wants to meet somewhere else today.”
“Really?” she asked, tilting her head. “Where at?”
“He’s opening a new club tonight. An exclusive sort of place. He wants us to come.”
She chewed her lip, which was endearing and more than a little sexy—if it weren’t for the context, at least. She was clearly uncertain about being in a club setting with Mirko, and frankly, I couldn’t blame her. If I could keep her far away from that man, I would.
I knew he had certain tastes. He liked younger women, and in particular women that he wasn’t supposed to have. I hoped that wouldn’t extend to Millie, but clearly, I was wrong. I needed Mirko’s money to make this SPAC work, but I didn’t need it so much that I’d risk letting him do something degrading. I was a bastard and an asshole, but not a fucking pimp, and Millie was not my whore. I wouldn’t ask her to flirt with him, or to do anything remotely outside of her comfort zone, even if it fucked this whole trip.
“If you think that’s the right move,” she said at last, sounding like she hoped I’d back out.
“You can stay behind if you want,” I said earnestly. “I know Mirko makes you uncomfortable. You and half the city.”
“It might be good if I came,” she said, absently tapping her fingers against the couch. “The whole point is for us to be seen together, right?”
“That’s true,” I said, “and there will be a lot of eyes at this event.”
“Mirko can’t do anything too inappropriate in public, right?”
I snorted softly. “That’s optimistic. You don’t know Mirko.”
“I’ll slap him if he crosses any lines.” She nodded to herself, likes he was making up her mind. I wanted to argue and convince her to stay, but she had a point. Mirko was more likely to keep his hands to himself in a public area, and the club would be very public—though loud, and dark, and drowning in alcohol. Even still, he wouldn’t be able to take things too far, especially not if I didn’t let her out of my sight for a moment.
And she was right, we needed to be seen together. Tonight was the perfect opportunity.
“Alright,” I said. “It’s settled then.” I stood up and stretched, stifling a yawn. “Make sure you wear something sexy.”
She rolled her eyes. “What, for Mirko?”
“Fuck Mirko. That’s for me.” I headed into the bedroom to pick out my clothes for the night, and to let her stew on that one for a second. I wasn’t kidding around: I wanted to see her most revealing outfit. I wanted to be teased and tempted, even more than I already was.
But most of all, I wanted eyes on her. I wanted the other men there to see me with her and to realize that if I had a woman like Millie, it made no sense that I’d be fucking around with Giana. I wanted their jealousy and their assumptions.
I wanted Millie though, most of all.
* * *
The room was a dark, dank pulse of techno music and packed bodies. Millie pressed up against my arm, wearing a plunging neckline and a pair of tight, black jeans. Necklaces hung around her neck, and bracelets jangled around her wrists, and her thick, dark hair hung loose over her shoulders. She looked like a movie star, or a goddess, or something I wanted to slowly undress, peeling off the layers until she sat splayed and naked and gorgeous.
Mirko’s club was a facsimile of every European place I’d ever been: modern and sleek, lots of white and black, lots of glass and metal. The dance floor was packed with rich people grinding to some famous DJ I’d never hea
rd of, and the music was like a hammer in my ears. But I noticed more than a few people I recognized, if only from a distance, and I saw them recognize me, then look to Millie, their gazes lingering.
She was a sight. It took all my self control to keep my hands off her. Even though we were supposed to be a couple, I had to at least pretend like we worked together, and she was my assistant for real. It was a strange little tightrope to walk, but it suited me.
The club though, I hated its ever-loving guts.
“Let’s get a drink,” Millie said in my ear, her breath warm. “It’s packed in here.”
She took my hands absently, and tugged me through the crowd. I couldn’t do much more than follow, our fingers intertwined for a moment, until we reached the bar and she seemed to realize what she’d done. She dropped my hand and said something I couldn’t hear, then leaned forward, elbowing her way through the two-deep group of people waiting for drinks.
I hung back, scanning the nearby face, and snapped a standing table when a group of women decked out in long dresses and plastered in make-up moved off holding their drinks above their heads, oblivious to the liquor spilling down around them. Millie returned with whisky for me and wine for her.
“Where is he?” she yelled over the music, leaning closer. I glanced down her neck, toward her breasts, unable to help myself. “Have you seen him yet?”
“Not yet,” I said back, moving even closer, my lips near her ear. “He’s here somewhere. I’m sure in a private room, making deals.”
“You think he’s working?” She made a face and shook her head. “It’s a party. I doubt it.”
“Trust me, this is what Mirko does. He loves getting people drunk then making them sign a contract.”
She looked absolutely shocked, and I laughed at her naivete. Of course, any contract that had been signed under duress was forfeit, and wouldn’t hold up in court, although the litigation would be a nightmare. But most people that signed with Mirko or made some deal were already on the verge of it to begin with, and he plied them with alcohol and a good time to nudge them in the right direction.
It wasn’t so far off from what most investors did. Small bribes, good drinks, nice meals, that sort of thing could convince someone that wasn’t certain yet.
Wining and dining. Seduction. What I wanted to do with Millie, except I didn’t need to—not really, not since we were already forced together.
She sipped her wine, watching the crowd, and I watched her, wondering what she made of all this. From her perspective, it must’ve looked like any club, filled with people drinking, shouting, dancing, laughing. But from where I stood, all I saw was money: the girl at the bar in the Prada dress was worth millions, the guy laughing next in the blue suit was worth even more. I spotted billionaires, wives of billionaires, men and women that were born with money and would die with even more.
It was the upper crust, the elite of the elite, the people that made the world turn without ever stepping out into public.
Suddenly, Millie reached out and grabbed my arm. “There he is,” she said, leaning closer. “Over at the bar. Do you see him?”
I nodded and watched as Mirko toasted with another man, a big guy with slicked-back black hair and a gut. He wore a cheap suit and laughed at everything Mirko said, leaning in too close, shaking his hand multiple times. He reeked like a salesman, but Mirko didn’t seem to mind. Really, Mirko liked any audience, no matter how much they wanted to sell him on something, so long as they listened to his stories and laughed at the right spot, he was happy.
“Wait a minute,” I said, putting an arm across her shoulders. For one instant, she seemed taken aback that I’d touch her like that, but then Mirko’s gaze moved over in our direction, and I pulled her closer, leaning my lips down to her ear. “I want him to see this.”
Then I kissed her. Nothing passionate or deep, but my lips pressed against hers and lingered there for only a few seconds—the kiss of a boyfriend to his girlfriend, intimate and familiar, but simple. She was soft and tasted like sweet caramel, and when I pulled back, her cheeks were turning red.
“Warn me next time,” she said.
“There’s no fun in that.” I smirked a little, leaning closer, trying to make it look like I was flirting—and I realized that I didn’t have to fake it, because I was. “You might not blush so much if I gave you a heads up.”
That only made her blush more, and she plastered a smile on her face as she pushed me away. I laughed and turned, and spotted Mirko making his way toward us through the crowd, the guy with the slicked-back hair left behind at the bar, watching.
“Rees!” Mirko said, hugging me. He smelled like vodka. “And you brouht your assistant, who seems to be more than an assistant.” His eyes twinkled, delighted. “Hello again, Millie.”
“Hello, Mirko.” They shook hands.
“We’re no more than friendly colleagues,” I said, smiling at Millie, who had the good sense to look away like she was embarrassed. The girl could act pretty well, for a lawyer at least.
“Oh right, of course, very friendly. I kiss all my employees on the mouth.” Mirko winked at me, and for one disgusted second, I believed him.
“Your place is nice,” Millie said. “I love the design. All the glass.”
“It was my idea,” Mirko said. “I wanted it to seem like a winter paradise. Glass, and ice, it’s all the same, yes? So white, and glass, snow and ice. I think it came through.”
It didn’t. I wouldn’t have guessed anything about a winter paradise, if he hadn’t just said that, but I smiled and nodded and pretended like he wasn’t bullshitting completely.
“Did you think about our conversation from yesterday?” I asked him, leaning in close to be heard over the pounding music.
“You want to talk business here, like this?” He gestured around like that wasn’t what he’d been doing all night already. “Come now Rees, it’s a party. I’ve never seen you truly let loose, you know.”
That was because I never did. Parties, clubs, they weren’t my thing. I had my work, I made my money, and I kept to myself most of the time. I hated going to crowded places—too many people knew my face. I got recognized far too often, and was constantly sucked into conversations I desperately wanted to avoid. If I had it my way, I’d never leave the house. That would be ideal.
Unfortunately, most of the world did business face to face.
“I’m a very boring man,” I said, glancing toward Millie, who had a smile painted on her lips. “What do you think? The SPAC’s going to be successful, and if it weren’t for the bad publicity—“
“Yes, yes, I know,” Mirko said, waving me off. I hated to be interrupted, but I held my tongue. “I thought about it, spoke with my lawyer and my investment manager, and I think I can write you a check. Really though Rees, you should hire better people. Letting something slip like an affair with a pop star, it’s a very bad look for you.”
“It wasn’t true,” I said, but he didn’t seem like he cared.
“Come up to my private table in an hour,” Mirko said, waving at someone across the crowd. “I’ll write you a check.”
I wanted to tell him to write it now, but he was already walking off. He hugged and kissed a big woman in a sparkling black dress, and I was left grinding my teeth.
“What did he say?” Millie asked, coming close again.
“An hour,” I said, “and he’ll write a check.”
She made a face like, that’s pretty good, right?
I shook my head, moved my lips to her ear. “That’s one whole hour in which he could get too drunk, or he could change his mind. It’s not good enough.”
“Want me to talk to him?” she asked, putting a hand on my arm.
“No,” I said quickly. “No, it’s fine, we don’t need that.”
“Let me give it a try,” she said, slipping past me, moving toward him through the crowd already.
I cursed and went to follow her, but she seemed determined. Maybe it was the glass of w
ine she drank, or maybe it was the comfort of being in a packed room, but she didn’t seem to hesitate this time, despite how uncomfortable Mirko made her.
I was slightly proud, and more than a little horrified, but she reached him as he broke off from the big woman and started away again, touching his arm, and tugging him back.
I watched from afar, like a passenger on a plummeting jet. The room continued to move around me, but my world was sucked into one small moment: Millie, standing close to Mirko, saying something.
And Mirko’s hand moving up to her arm, then around to the small of her back. He leaned in, said something.
She smiled, an awkward, tense smile, and her eyes darted to me. I took a step closer.
But too late. Mirko’s hand moved down and cupped her ass, and he said something else. Her mouth fell open as he squeezed, his face turned up into a horrible sneer.
The problem with Millie’s plan was, Mirko didn’t give a fuck if he sexually harassed her in public. He was rich, and this was his party. Nobody would say a word, or even consider throwing him out, and if Millie follow through on her plan to slap him, then she’d get blamed for the whole thing.
I stormed forward, rage moving through me like a thundercloud. His hand lingered on her ass, and she seemed frozen between disbelief and disgust. He said something again, still grinning, and I grabbed his arm, wrenching him away from her.
He seemed surprised when I punched him in the face. My knuckled cracked against his teeth and sent him sprawling. The big woman screamed, and someone else shouted, and people scrambled to get out of the way. Mirko stared at me from the ground, leaning up on one elbow, his other hand dabbing at his lips, and coming up red. The music continued to pulse and thump, and Millie put her hands to her lips, mimicking Mirko’s gesture out of surprise and shock.
I grabbed her arm and pulled her away. I led her along, shoving through the crowd, and nobody stopped me.
Outside, the night seemed dead silent, and my ears rang from the music. I kept going, not caring which direction. I wanted to put distant between myself and what just happened, even though I knew it’d haunt me for a long, long time. Mirko might’ve been a sleazy bastard, but he was a well known sleazy bastard, with a big bank account and a long memory.
