by Skyla Madi
“I’m sorry, Alix,” he apologizes, slapping a hand down on my shoulder. “Maybe next time.”
I shrug him off. “Small equipment wasn’t the problem. He was perfectly fine in that department—more than fine.”
“Then what was it?” He asks.
“He didn’t know how to use it. A terrible waste of a perfect limb, really.”
“Well, send him my way. Maybe I can teach him a few things.”
I narrow my eyes at Marise and his glossy lips pull into a mischievous smile.
“He’s not gay and you have a boyfriend.”
With a departing snort, Sadie steps further down the bar to assist a lady in a rather hideous fur coat, leaving me with a suddenly excited Marise.
“If I’m teaching him how to please a woman, I’m sure Mark won’t mind. It’s a public service, really.”
I arch a brow. “You’re gay, Marise. I don’t think pleasing women is very high on your experience list.”
“Oh Honey, you have no idea.” He winks, and I’m now stuck with information I don’t want to know. “Hey, what did Sadie say his name was?”
“Jesse.”
Just like that, his beautiful mocha complexion whitens, and my palms begin to sweat.
“What?”
“Do you know his last name?”
I run my hand over my face. I had a one night stand with someone and he expects me to know their last name? That would be weird, right?
“Do you know what a once-off fling is? I’ll give you a hint; no bonding is involved.”
“So… that’s a no?”
“Of course I don’t know his last name.” I snap.
He clasps his hands in front of his chest and floats off into some distant world. I push a lock of long, brown hair that has come loose from my ponytail, and glance at Sadie who’s watching us intently while she shakes up a margarita.
“Shit,” Marise swears. “Where did you pick this guy up, exactly?”
Strangely, my heart begins to race, but I don’t dare let it show. I plant my hands on my hips. “The lounge bar. Will you stop interrogating me? What’s going on?”
“I don’t want to freak you out, Princess, but Mr. O’Ryan—his son…”
He pauses and I wait. Ten seconds pass and Marise and I stare at each other, my pulse thrumming in my ears. “God, Marise, just tell me!”
“His first name is Jesse.”
I don’t see how that has anything to do with—oh. Oh! I shake my head. “No. This Jesse was young—thirty—maybe.”
“Empyre Magazine says that eligible bachelor number five, a.k.a Mr. Jesse O’Ryan, is a thirty three year old man taking care of his father’s hotel chain while he’s in Manila.”
Again, I shake my head. “No. Not possible. If this Jesse is the Jesse that runs the hotel, he’d know better than to bed a woman he randomly met in the bar of his hotel. That’s bad for business.”
“And bad for whoever is on the receiving end of that deal.” Sadie chimes in as she saunters back over to us.
“Ha. Ha.” I deadpan.
“Google him, if you don’t believe me,” Marise simply says. “I bet he’s all over Google.”
“No,” I protest. “I’m not going to Google him. Last night was horrible and I just want to forget about it. So please, go wash some more glasses.”
With a swift shrug of his shoulders and a suggestive flick of his eyebrows, he disappears from the main bar and I’m alone with Sadie once again.
“Shit, Alix, what if you did sleep with the boss’s son?” Her mouth curves into the perfect ‘o’. “What if he finds out and fires you? Oh my god, I can’t work here without you.”
I really refuse to believe I did. I mean, I’d know, wouldn’t I? And a man with such high authority here at the Tempt Hotel, surely wouldn’t go along with a random fling, would he?
“Relax, Sadie. It’s not the same Jesse. Marise is prone to being dramatic, you know that.”
“It’s those books you read.” she points out, sticking her long, slender index finger in my face. “Who are you reading about now? A rich man in a suit?”
She will not win this. “No.” I lie and she rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah. I warned you about those novels.” She flicks her hand at me. “Cover the bar, I need to pee.”
Sadie always needs to pee. It’s her thing. Some people smoke and eat when they’re nervous or stressed, but not her. She pees. Her body is so petite and tiny that her bladder fills up quickly. On second thought, I don’t know how she’s managed to pop out four kids. She has a frame the same size as a young teenage girl.
Sadie disappears into the back room while I wait patiently at the front. For a Tuesday, it’s super quiet. I contemplate wiping the bar down again, but there’s a small nag at the back of my mind, I just can’t shake. It’s telling me to google Jesse. I glance down at my black handbag that’s tucked nicely under the bar, then, quickly avert my attention. No. I’m not going to google him. Who am I, Bella Swan? I don’t need google to find out something that I, and everyone else, already knows. A heavy blanket of dread settles in my stomach. I slept with my boss, didn’t I? Oh, boy.
With nothing else to do, I tap my uncolored nails against the wood. Stupid thoughts and ideas swirl in my head, but I know I shouldn’t worry so much. What are the odds of running into him again? I’ve seen him once. Only once.
“Holy hell…” Sadie gasps as she pushes through the door and steps back into the main bar. In her hands, she clenches her iphone and holds it close to her face. “That’s him?”
The dread in my stomach curls into massive balls of stress and begin squeezing into other organs.
“Give me a look.” I surge toward her and snatch the phone from her hands. Sure enough, there he is. In the bright light, his brown eyes are vivid and framed by thick, dark lashes. His smile is quirked on a sexy angle and a dimple barely shows, while his shoulders still look as broad as I know they feel.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone approaching the bar. Not wanting to serve them, I drop low and hide, keeping my eyes glued to the screen. How can a man so… delicious, be so terrible at sex?
“Alix.” Sadie whispers, nudging me with her foot.
I ignore her. I’m far too fixated on the photos I hold in my hand. It’s a shame… really.
A rather deep sound reverberates around my skull as someone clears their throat. Again, I ignore it.
“I’m certain there’s a rule about having handbags and phones in the bar area.”
Oh, shit. That’s a familiar voice. With a squeak, I fall back on my ass and land on two, large and uncomfortable shoes. Clutching the phone to my chest, I slowly peer up to see the face of the shoes I’m sitting on. Please be Sadie or Marise. As I tilt my head back far enough, the face I meet is not feminine, nor are there any bangs crafted perfectly against his forehead. Just my luck, the shoes I sit on belong to, quite possibly, the worse lay of my life and my boss, Mr. Jesse O’Ryan…
I knew I should have called in sick this morning.
Chapter Three
Alix
I remain still and stare up at him in disbelief. Well… this wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be one night and then nothing. We weren’t meant to see each other again. Still, as I look at him, my mind can’t help but wander back into naughty territory—even though it recalls last night’s disappointment perfectly.
“Comfortable?” He asks, frowning down at me.
This moment can’t possibly get any worse so, unable to stop myself, I shrug. “I’ve been in more uncomfortable, unsatisfactory situations.”
Sadie’s breath hitches as her brows knit together and it sends a wave of sobriety surging over me. He’s my boss—the man that can fire me at the drop of a hat. I need to get my shit together and show a little respect. Besides, it’s not his fault he’s super vanilla.
“Sorry.” I mumble, pushing myself to my feet.
Avoiding his face, I extend my arm for Sadie to tak
e her phone, but she promptly shakes her head and purses her lips. “That’s not mine.”
I turn her phone over and on the back, her four children are smiling up at me. I give her a pointed look. Clearly, I’m in enough trouble already. I don’t need to take heat for her phone too. Sadie’s cheeks blush pink and she quickly takes the phone from my hands and stuffs it into the pocket of her black slacks.
“Sadie,” Jesse says, his voice calm and even, “Do you mind taking control of the bar while I speak to Alix in private.”
Oh, boy. Private. The way he says it has my belly tying itself in knots. It could be worse, I suppose, and at least he remembers my name.
Abruptly, she nods her head and her curls bounce. “Not at all.”
Dread rolls through my stomach once again. This is not going to be good. I’ve never been one to regret my actions. I’ve always taken responsibility and moved forward, but right now, in this moment, I regret last night. I regret it hard.
Jesse adjusts his dark grey suit jacket and turns on his heel. I take immediate notice of his posture. His shoulders are broad and rigid, aggressive almost. At his sides, his hands clench and unclench, and there’s a heavy stomp to his walk which is nothing like the light, sophisticated steps he took last night.
I follow him. The sound of my heels against the beautiful white and black tiles echoes in my head as I walk quickly with my hands clasped together. I ignore the way my palms sweat and my mouth dries. I don’t want to get fired. I like my job. I rake my teeth over my bottom lip and bite the inside of my cheek. I do anything and everything I can to prevent myself from freaking out.
In a secluded section of the bar, in the far corner, Jesse turns and gestures to a small, black seat. With a subtle nod, I drop into it and cross my legs. He doesn’t say a word as he takes the chair in front of me, but he keeps his brown eyes on mine and it locks me in place. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and threading his fingers together. He says nothing. For minutes, maybe hours, he says nothing. He watches me and I watch him, neither one of us willing to start the conversation we’re both undoubtedly dreading. I try not to breathe too heavily, or let my gaze slip from his. He needs to know that I’m not scared of him, that intimidation won’t work on me.
“How often do you prowl the bar where you work, looking for men to sleep with?’ He asks, obviously deciding to dive straight in rather than beat around the bush.
That sounds awfully familiar. Though, I’m sure it wouldn’t kill the guy to take his time and beat around the bush first. I can’t help it. I crack a smile. If he wants to play it like this, then fine.
“Why, are you jealous?”
His gorgeous eyes thin. “Hardly.”
Strangely, my blood begins to heat under his accusing stare and I like it. “Since we’re playing twenty-one questions, tell me; how often do you accept offers from ‘prowling’ women at the hotel you own?”
He takes offense—not obvious offense—but I saw the subtle way his hands tightened when I said it. “Never.”
I smirk. “Well, that’s a lie.”
His perfectly shaped jaw clenches. God. He really is perfect in every way... well, almost every way.
“Fine,” he hisses. “You’re the only one I’ve—” Jesse inhales sharply and holds it for a few seconds before slowly blowing it out. “Not often. I don’t do it often.”
“How sweet,” I tease, secretly getting off on the control I so clearly have over him.
I watch as he unthreads his index finger and taps it against the table’s wooden surface. Each thud sends vibrations through the wood, making my arms tingle, and my heart beat a little quicker.
“I could fire you, Alix.”
There’s a softness to his voice. Regret? Maybe. Sympathy? I’m not sure.
“But you won’t,” I say, the threat clear in my voice. “You’re in the wrong just as much as I am.”
Inside, my body is sweating and all my organs are clenching. I’m a hair’s breadth away from losing my job. My body knows it, but my face refuses to show it. Jesse’s clear brown eyes cloud over and his features pull together. He knows I’m right. He knows that last night happened only because he let it. I approached him, and I propositioned him, but he accepted.
“Maybe this isn’t about last night. Maybe I should fire you for having your handbag behind the bar.”
Once again, I smirk at him. “Firstly, there’s a three strike system implemented in this hotel so that would be strike one. Secondly, check the end of shift register readings for all of my shifts. I’ve never been down a cent. And lastly, check the security tapes.” I flick my eyebrows and widen my smile. “My hands are clean.”
He sits back in his chair and I try not to feel intimidated as his dark eyes scan my face. I don’t know what he’s looking for… another reason to fire me, perhaps? One that won’t make him appear bad either.
“Last night was a mistake,” he states—as if I didn’t already know that. “I don’t usually—I shouldn’t have—you—” He stops and takes another deep breath before speaking again. “Is there anything I can do to make sure last night stays between us?”
I frown. Is he offering me a bribe? I ponder the idea of asking him for thousands of dollars, but quickly remember I have an addiction to books and vodka, so having extra cash to splurge on those things won’t be good for my health. “Unless you can somehow disappear so I never have to see you again, I highly doubt it.” I push myself to my feet and straighten out my uniform with the palms of my hands. “Don’t worry. Our secret is safe with me.”
It’s not like I’d blab about it to everyone anyway. Gossiping about shitty sex is like sharing a birth story. Trust me. No one really wants to hear it.
Jesse’s face lights up in amusement; all previous concerns hidden behind it. “You are an extremely difficult woman to satisfy.”
“Ha, please!” I lean forward so no one else can hear me. “You didn’t even try.”
The amusement fades from his face and is replaced by the sexiest scowl I’ve ever seen. With the smallest smile, I turn away from him and head back to the bar.
Jesse
I stare after her, my gaze zeroed in on the back of her head. Unintentionally, it drops low to her round backside and long legs. I catch myself watching and recalling last night. Granted, it was hardly the best sex I’ve ever had. Not even close, but at least it got the job done. Sex with a stranger isn’t something I do often, but when I do do it, I don’t go out of my way to please the woman. What’s the point? If they want to have sex with a stranger, maybe they should take it upon themselves to get off. Maybe the other person is extremely busy and doesn’t have time for foreplay and dirty talking. To be honest, a one night stand is more awkward, than passionate. It always has been, and anyone who tells you otherwise, is probably too inebriated to truly remember it. I tap my index finger in an uneven rhythm against the table top. I should make it up to her.
No.
No, I shouldn’t.
There’s a line that has to be drawn here, especially since the employee/boss situation has come to light. However, she does seem quite frustrated by my… performance last night. I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to calm the waters and put the whole issue behind us. The last thing I need is a boisterous employee creating a shit storm out of nothing. Without a second thought, I launch myself out of my chair.
“Alix.” I call after her.
Her spine straightens and her head tilts back. Although she looks like a fully grown adult woman; twenty-eight I assume, her behavior is very much like a teenager, and the way she speaks… so forward and unfiltered. I’m surprised she even made it through the interview round. Then again, she didn’t have to be well mannered to make it. She’s very pretty. Her soft features and sweet, thin lips that quirk at the corners would have carried her straight through.
She turns around and I take note of her furrowed eyebrows as she places her hands on her hips. Her dark eyes narrow in on my face, and I know exactly what she�
��s doing. I’m not unfamiliar with the look. When you’re in a business like mine, everyone wants everybody to know they can’t be messed with… even the bar staff apparently.
“I’m not comfortable having this rift between us. As an employer, I’d like all my staff to be comfortable and relaxed in the workplace.” I can’t believe I’m about to do this. “Let me make it up to you. Lunch. Tomorrow. At L’Oran down the street.”
Alix stares at me, blankly, for a few seconds before her hands finally fall away from her hips.
“A lunch date?” she asks, and I see the confusion clearly on her face.
“A lunch meeting,” I clarify, not wanting to associate the word date with an employee. “Not a date.”
A mischievous smile pulls at her lips and she flicks her tongue along the bottom one. I feel my own brows pull in as her eyes scan me—from head to toe. Her obvious scheming ties my stomach in knots, but I can’t ignore the way my pulse climbs by the second. It’s the same way she looked at me last night, after I’d taken my clothes off. Suddenly, my throat is dry.
“I don’t think one lunch is going to cut it.” She tells me, matter-of-factly. “I take my orgasms—or lack thereof, in your case—quite seriously.”
Unable to help myself, I scowl at her. How one woman can be so blunt is beyond me. I don’t think I’ve met anyone so in control of what they want. Most people tend to step around others, worried about hurting their feelings or coming across the wrong way, but I don’t think Alix cares. My first impression so far, is that she’s a beautiful woman, content with what she has and what she does. She’s a woman who isn’t afraid of showing her true colors, regardless of how obnoxious they may seem, and she is definitely not afraid of her sexuality or sharing it with others.
“What do you want then? Money?”
Her mouth falls open and her honey colored irises flare. With straight shoulders she leans forward. “How dare you,” she utters, her voice low and threatening. “I don’t want your money.”
