by Iona Rose
“Okay we need to celebrate,” Layne says. “Tomorrow night. I’ve had a tiring day and this to be momma needs to crash.”
I laugh. “What do you mean? There’s nothing to celebrate. This was just to set up the interview.”
“Well, we’re going to celebrate you even getting the call. Then we’re going to toast to your acing the interview and getting some fantastic position there.”
“Well, I’m not going to say no to that, but are you going to be able to come out?” My eyes lower to her bulging belly.
“Honey, this night out is more for me than it is for you. I need to get out of this house.” She does a little swirl with her hips. “I can’t wait.”
I laugh again.“Neither can I,” I reply. “Neither can I.”
“Ask Jodie if she wants to come along with us. The more the merrier.”
I lift my phone to pull up my best friend’s number. “I doubt it. I think she has to work at the restaurant tomorrow.”
“On a Saturday night? I doubt Jodie would ever give up her Saturdays to work. I think you have the day mixed with Friday or Sunday even.”
I dialed her number and lifted the phone to my ear.
Chapter Three
Grady
Both men, the Senior Vice President Mark Cuomo and the recluse, Jack Clay share a look with each other before placing their document on the table.
The marble surface is filled with two bottles of aged malt whiskey and platters of stingray fins and squid tempura. Allen’s secretary had secured the private room for us at the downtown club and just the perfect ambience for the conversation I intend to have with them.
It is set against the back drop of a dim and rowdy dance floor below, lit with colorful lights, and the deafening music hitting the panels of our glass encased lounge. It is just enough to remind us of where we are, but yet allow us the detachment that I paid heavily for.
“Grady,” Mark begins. “What you’re proposing we can do internally.”
Both men share a look with each other once again, so I pick up my tumbler of whiskey and take a swig of it.
I pull out two more folders and hand them over. Both men receive their copy and quickly start reading through it, as I continue to sip calmly from my glass.
I watch their eyes widen in shock.
“Where did you get this?” Mark asks, his voice now cold.
“Through our analysis. Even your team hasn’t picked up on this security issue. So you see, even your waiting room feature is flawed and if I can discover this, someone else out there will sooner or later. I’m disclosing this vulnerability to you as a courtesy. Fix it and give me a call. Now let’s push all this aside and get back to the second reason we’re here.”
Mark leans back into the sofa with a laugh. “Oh. I thought this was the end of the road.”
“What do you mean?” I ask innocently.
“Thus far, you’ve hosted us in a lounge and then brought us here. We’ve been waiting for this shoe to drop. Now that it has and you’ve hassled us into doing business with you, I expected that you’d call it a night and be on your way.”
“I don’t hassle, Mark,” I correct. “That’s for people that don’t know what they’re doing. What I’ve done is given you a chance to save your house before its engulfed in flames, and it’s up to you to take or reject it. But it wasn’t my sole intention in bringing you here either, otherwise we could have handled this discussion in either of our offices.”
“So what is this second reason then?”
I rise to my feet. “To dance, of course.”
Mark laughs again. “I can do that.”
“You’re joking,” Jack says, his face frigid with horror. “I don’t dance.”
Their reaction amuses me. “That’s alright, Jack. I’m joking. Neither do I. I’m sure we’ll come up with better ways to have a good time. In the meantime, have a look at these.” I hand them my proposals.
Then I excuse myself from the room and head to the restroom. After handling my business, I’m about to return to them when I decide against it. It is better to give them some more time alone to look over the data that I have presented. So I instead head towards the bar.
It has been quite a few months since I have come to a club like this. My insane schedule and unending responsibilities have kept me away from most social pastimes like this unless is business related, but since my goal for the evening is somewhat complete, I allow myself to bask in the simple pleasure of herd excitement for a few minutes. I weave through the throngs of gyrating bodies in the humidity, and soon arrive at the bar.
I want a cocktail, something I haven’t had the liberty of enjoying of late. So the moment the bartender comes up to me I make my order. “Sidecar?”
He nods in understanding. “Coming up.”
Soon he delivers it and I flick away the orange peel attached to the glass.
To my surprise however, a slender set of fingers catch it before it can roll off the counter to the floor. I follow the fair limbs all the way up her glistening alabaster skin, to the dark red strap across her delicate shoulders.
The face on those shoulders is even more exquisite, and as my gaze connects with the deep green eyes of the shiny blonde woman before me, I feel my breathing hitch.
For a few seconds, I don’t say a word or rather nothing comes to mind, so I look way to try to recollect my thoughts. It occurs to me then, what just happened. The sight of her—literally fried my brain. The hand holding my glass freezes midway to my mouth. I glance at her once again.
She has turned her face away from me and makes her order, “Cranberry with ice,”
I listen to her velvety voice. She is speaking louder than usual as we all are so that we can be heard over the racket, but I can still make out the creamy flow to her tone. “You don’t drink alcohol?” I find myself asking.
She hears me and turns with a smile on her face.
I empty my drink without realizing it and set the empty tumbler down on the counter.
“I do,” she replies. “This is for my sister...she’s pregnant.”
I hear every word of what she says mainly because my gaze is so focused on her lips, and the forms that they are shaping into so she can communicate with me. Her lips are covered in lipstick the same exact red shade of her dress. They are plump and curved in a way to seemingly solely entice me. I want to kiss her badly... to sink my teeth gently into that warm and tender flesh...feel her heat and scent swirl around me.
I take a step closer to her, almost needing to inhale her scent more than I need my next breath and it makes me wonder what is so severely attracting me to her. Is it the way the color compliments her skin, or is it her almost doe-eyed gaze?” I can’t remember the last time I’d ever been this immediately drawn to a woman. “Let me pay for the drink,” I say.
Her smile widens. “No need, I can handle it.”
I am even more intrigued. “Why?” I ask.
She blinks. “Why what?”
“Why are you refusing me?”
“I’m not refusing you.” She laughs. “I just... want to pay for my own drink. “
“Fair enough. So what would you have me do for you then?”
This time around, she boldly holds my gaze, and tells me exactly what she wants, but I can’t possibly have heard it right. How could I have when I heard her say...
Fuck me. Brutally, until I lose my mind. Against a surface, in the air... everywhere.
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