by Avery Aster
Hoping these fears to be premature, she said, “Let me see if we can Skype in Blake Morgan at Brill, Inc. who manages the Easton account, and see what he thinks.” She moved the cursor over Skype and logged in and bit her thumbnail. Blake, please be online. You’re a habitual online cock surfer, but not this early in the day. At least I hope you aren’t, Blakie.
His sandy-brown hair and bright-blue eyes with his Hollywood grin lit up the screen. “Lexalicous, you have some serious dish to spill with me, girl.” Blake sucked in his cheeks and grunted at the computer screen.
“Blake! Thank god. I’m in Milan at the Girasoli factory.”
“Umm, the whole world knows where Lex Easton is. Jesus.” He held up the New York Times style section to his computer screen. “Dahhhhh. You’re in all the fucking newspapers, on all the fashion blogs and all over TV. Last night’s red carpet appearance has the industry talking about you.”
Ohhhh no. “And what are they saying?” Please nothing bad, please god, please.
“Well let’s see. The Times says you’re the next Brangelina super couple. They’ve portmanteau AKA blended your names as “Massilex.” Not sure of I luv Massilex. Sounds like Municix, you know for mucus. Yuk.” He flipped to another paper. “This is a printout from Kiki’s office in Taddy’s PR department. It states, Joan Rivers at E! Entertainment hated your vintage Valentino. Too conservative! Joan wants to see cleavage. Inside Edition gave you a good review on your hair and makeup. They want to know who did it. What shall I tell them?”
“Umm…Jemma and me.”
“Giiirl, I can’t pitch a potential princess doing her own hair. I’m gonna say Ken Paves did your hair. He’s the best. Okay, boo? Now if you’re worried about the tabloids saying you’re bankrupt. Or Eddie overdosed. Or Birdie is a compulsive sex addict who pops oxycodone as her multivitamin…” He held his breath.
“Yes?” Lord Almighty—Blake!!!
“No, honey—the press didn’t write anything negative.”
“Thanks, Blake,” she fumed and wanted to die. “They don’t call you No Filter Morgan for nothing.” With hesitation she glanced up at Jemma who stood there with a gasp.
Jemma’s eyes appeared as if they’d bug from her head at any second. But she must’ve seen the despair on Lex’s face as she held her long red nailed thumb up in the air to say it was okay. Her lips curled to smile.
Lex thought transparency was overrated and would be happy living with her designs and no gossipmongers in the woods.
“Ya need a self esteem booster shot. You’re gorg! And we’re not kids anymore.” Blake snapped his fingers at the screen and whistled. “Now Vive over at Debauchery demands an exclusive the second your twat gets off the plane. She confirmed you two are chatting about princey poo already.”
“Why does Vive keep calling him princey poo? I hate when she gives celebs nicknames.”
Debauchery circulated to over four million readers each week. When Viveca Farnworth gave a famous person a pet name, it stuck for life. Becoming the butt of all jokes on David Letterman, sketched into The Simpson’s cartoon, and laughed into skits on Saturday Night Live. The last thing Lex wanted was Vive slamming Massimo.
“Vive mentioned she won’t run the article called “Prince of Poo” since you two are falling in love and having his—baby.”
“What?” Lex shrieked.
“Ahhh ma.” Jemma slapped her hand over her own mouth and stood behind Lex. She watched Blake on the computer screen. “Blake is cute, no?”
Blake explained, “TMZ started this rumor. It’s on their website.” On the screen Blake instant messaged Lex a link. The headline read, “Reclusive Fashion Designer Knocked Up by Italian Playboy.”
Jemma and Lex leaned forward and read the article.
“Oh mio Dio,” Jemma prayed.
This is insane. I haven’t even seen the man orgasm and TMZ says I’m already knocked up. “Oh brother, this is a crazy train speeding up and won’t stop.”
“Honey, we’re just gettin’ started. It’s all good press. Easton Essentials is going to implode into fabulosity. Vive, Taddy and I are all happy for you. You deserve this. Please ride your PR wave.”
“I’ll try.” This publicity isn’t me.
He nodded with enthusiasm. Something Lex hadn’t seen her friend show for her in a long time. “Taddy rang from St. Barth’s and wants to change your communication message putting you front and center. No arguing with her, I don’t have to tell you what you already know.”
Lex feared Brill, Inc. might do this, but they’d worked so hard to create Easton with her and this would be fun for them. She owed it to Brill, Inc. to stop nay saying all profile publicity and go with it.
Blake leaned closer to the screen, his handsome face magnified. “I have one final ‘q’ for you.”
“Uh huh?” She didn’t care when Blake downsized the word “question” with a single letter because usually his “q” meant whopper.
“Seeing as how you coined your vibrator Masi, if I titled my butt plug Andy, will Mr. Cooper be at my doorstep when I get home?”
I’m going to die.
“Ha ha, ho ha, ha ha ha.” Jemma howled, stomping her Gucci’s against the concrete floor. “Can we set Blake up with Rocco? I love him, my darling, he is adorable.”
“Mr. Morgan, shut up! Jemma Fereti is with me in the design room. Listen, I’m in a bind and need Brill, Inc.’s branding genius.”
Blake gave her a narrowed, glinting stare. “It’s just me in the office today to help you.”
“We don’t have a lot of time.” She batted her eyes at the screen and brought her palms with her fingers together into the prayer sign. She explained the situation and forwarded email copies from the buyers.
He read them and coughed, clearing his throat and mouthed, “You’re in deep shit.” Perhaps hoping Jemma wouldn’t hear. “I’ll pull Kiki over in publicity and get my assistant Duckie to help too. Give me an hour.”
She breathed relief. “Thank you, Blake. You guys are the best, hugs to your team for me please.” And mouthed, “I know, I know, I know.”
“Bah bye Lexalicious, and PS, I wanna hear all about the prince’s cock when you get home.” Blake fisted his hand to his mouth air jacking back and forth, simulating a blow job. He snickered, waved goodbye and logged off as the screen went white.
Please, please, please come up with something.
Chapter Fifteen
One Part Deep Throat, Three Parts Horse Sense
Massimo cursed out loud. Pressing his foot hard on the gas pedal, he shifted the seven speed roadster’s V12 engine as he picked up speed—Vroom!—for Girasoli’s showroom. I do not understand Signorina Easton. How has she kept this from me? He was familiar with conniving divas self-entitled to luxurious gifts, sex and VIP access to his lifestyle, but he’d never experienced this in business.
Lex almost pulled a fast one. The Girasoli warehouse released Easton’s fabrics to the JFK, New York, airport. No sooner had they been loaded onto the cargo plane and up in the air, when Luigi walked into his home office informing him of Easton Essentials’ supplemental treatment process engineered in Asia.
Throwing the Aventador’s transmission into park, he ran for the showroom. Standing at the doorway, he noticed the room was a mess. Fabric was thrown all over with bits and pieces on the floor and the mannequins dressed in the revised line. It appeared as if a fashion tornado had swept through the office. He noticed Jemma sitting at her desk rubbing body cream on her hands.
Jemma opened her mouth to speak, “Ma—”
“Shh.” He motioned her to be quiet, placing his pointer finger over his lips.
She nodded an okay.
Massimo’s attention was focused on Lex as he stepped up behind her chatting on the phone.
“I love you, Blakie. Thank you for doing this for me. A flanker brand, Easton Express for Girasoli will work with the mass market buyers. Great!”
What the hell is she talking about? He glanced over at J
emma who gave an elated smile to whatever Signorina Easton carried on about.
He stepped in closer.
Entrenched in the call she didn’t notice him. “I know right. Jemma might fly to New York this week to see my show and meet some buyers.” Lex turned, catching Massimo’s eye and waved.
Astonished how she faked it and sold it at the same time. Perhaps Massimo been right all along—Lex might have had a future as a Hollywood actress? At least he hadn’t made love to her.
Massimo stood next to her waiting for the call to end. Digging hands in his side pockets to avoid revealing angry fists, he didn’t share her enthusiasm.
“Blake, I gotta go. Kisses to Kiki and Duckie.” She hung up the phone, standing with a hug.
He kept his hands in his pockets as she wrapped her arms around him.
Jemma coughed and looked down at the paperwork she’d busied herself with.
Lex reared her head, showing confusion. “What—what’s wrong?”
“May I see you in my office?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Jemma, if you will excuse us.”
“Ciao, my darlings.” Jemma nodded.
Leaving the showroom and with Lex’s footsteps behind him, he didn’t speak another word. He didn’t turn around and look at her. Afraid he’d get upset, the silent thirty seconds of their walk afforded him time to think what he’d say to her. Massimo prided himself on not being reactive.
Opening his office door, he let her in behind him and closed the door. He locked the doorknob.
She turned, fear vivid in her eyes. “What is it?”
He stepped forward, “Take a seat.”
“Masi?” Lex sat on a bench in his office’s corner.
“Call me Your Majesty.” He closed the blinds and sat opposite her.
“Excuse me?” The color left her cheeks. “Tell me what—”
“Alexandra. I hope you can tell me what you are up to.” His arms crossed over his chest.
Agitated, she replied, “We’ve busted our asses to fix the samples. I need to discuss some North American branding challenges with you.” She held up her hands showing her scrapes and cuts from the material. Her palms were inked in blue from the dye. Lex’s hands shook, she’d become nervous and pushed her blonde locks behind her ears. Red splotches popped alongside her neck.
This conversation was worse to Massimo than their first dinner together. He didn’t know her then. He didn’t like her. And now—he was falling for her.
“Anything you want to tell me in regards to prior to today?” He leaned forward on the bench trying to keep his heart cold and still. Please be honest with me, Lex.
Her face softened. “You know?”
Massimo gave her a nod. “Sì.”
“I didn’t think you’d give me the fabrics when I asked. At first you didn’t and then you did. Easton’s shipment left your warehouse.” She paused, her head hanging low. “I intended to tell you last night but I fell asleep. This morning I wanted to tell you again, but we didn’t have time for—anything.”
“Tell me now.” He wanted to hear if her version rang different than what Luigi shared with him.
“Your fabrics are the best in the world. They surpass Donatella in form, texture and thread count.”
“Sì, grazie, we know this already.”
“In shapewear, the average consumer washes her garment about two hundred and fifty times, assuming she’ll own the item for about three years.” She crossed her legs, sitting up on the bench and reaching for his hand.
Massimo didn’t give it to her. He crossed his hands over his chest. No, bella.
She continued, “The Easton Essentials label prides itself on having a five-year warranty. I have the fabrics sent to Shanghai where they are treated with a Teflon-like coating for endurance. I claim half the time cycle due to varying degrees people may wash their garments—some may use bleach, breaking the fabric down even more.”
His face was getting hot. Massimo loosened his tie removing his blazer. Angry? No. Annoyed? Yes. Speechless. How did his team not know to improve the fabrics? Let alone not know their wearability? Because Girasoli only supplied textiles, not produced apparel, big difference.
“You should have told me the minute we agreed to work together. You broke my trust, although I cannot blame you. You have to do what is right for Easton. Perhaps this is why you are casual about us.” Lex went about everything in an unconventional manner, unfamiliar to him yet fascinating.
“I’m trying to digest it as it comes. Girasoli’s business, Easton’s business—your life, my life, I don’t want my feelings for you to get in the way of how we make business decisions. Do you?”
“My feelings?”
“The first thing you rattled off to me was this is business.”
She’d thrown his words back in his face. He’d felt horrible when he spoke them, and he felt inferior sitting here assuming the worst and being told them again, in this context. I should’ve trusted her.
Did he hear her right? “You do not want your emotions for me to cloud your ability to make decisions.” He paused and continued, “Are you saying you care for me?”
“Yes!” Lex stared at him, tender and sweet. “But remember this morning I verified no pressure.” She joked.
“Come here.” He tapped his lap for her to move closer.
“I don’t warm up easy.” She shook her head to say no. “You gallivanted in here a few minutes ago as a royal shithead.”
“Scusi.” He lowered his voice as it filled with regret. “Will you accept my apology?”
“Maybe.” She stood and smiled at him. Stepping forward, she sat next to him, slipping her hand into his. Her other hand glided across his chest. “I recognize that with what you’ve shared with me, believing in someone may be a challenge. You have to trust me.”
“Bella, I do believe in you.” He squeezed her hand tighter. “I have never leaned on anyone, above all for business.”
Lex unbuttoned his top two buttons sliding her warm hand against his right pectoral muscle. She tweaked his nipple and he moaned.
Feels good. He shifted his legs getting hard from her touch.
“Masi, you’re going to have to have faith in what I have to share with you next.”
He kissed her, not letting her finish. Massimo hoped he’d want to kiss her again after she shared her news. Her tense lips softened as he plunged his tongue inside making their moment together stand still. Eight hours had passed since the last time he’d tasted her. Massimo inhaled and asked, “What is it?”
Her face became more confident. “When I started selling your brand to the stores this afternoon, we realized Girasoli’s brand equity is nil. You’re a trade market fabric supplier. Not a brand. Jemma confirmed your team didn’t think about consumer branding.”
“Jemma is correct, we did not. What did the buyers say?”
Lex went over the emails and communication in detail. “We’re going to have to create a new brand called Easton Express for Girasoli. We’ll co-brand our two companies for the mass channels. It won’t upset my prestige market for Easton Essentials and you’ll give me a cut on this.” She unzipped his fly.
Oh bella. “How much?” He focused on her words, trying to manage her actions.
“Thirty five percent,” she replied, her lips curling into a wicked grin. She seized his cock in her hands. “I’d sign a licensing contract giving Girasoli the right to use a flanker Easton brand for the mass market channels.”
Damn her cuteness.
She jacked his cock.
“And if I disagree?” She has me by the balls.
“The entire consumer deal is off, no buyers, no new label, no North America. But you’ll press on with your b2b business.” She licked her pointer and middle finger returning her touch to his cock’s head. Pulling his foreskin back, she traced her wet fingers over his sensitive slit and teased. “Our collaboration makes you hard.”
“Twenty percent.” He leaned up to kiss her.
&
nbsp; Lex pulled her face back motioning a no no. Fisting her perfect hand around his cock, she glared at him as if she’d snap his penis in half. “Thirty.”
“Twenty five percent,” he panted and found this to be a challenging conversation. Discussing money with his lover holding his cock in her hands was too much. Fuck, my pre cum. Shit, Ohhh, bella. Massimo’s cock inched toward release. Having her in his lap, the money dialogue, and the way she smelled—it was euphoric.
Taking her time, she swiped her nail over his slit, picking up a teardrop release with her ring finger. Lex brought the moisture to her lips. “We have a deal Masi, twenty five percent it is.”
Air stuck in his throat as if he’d swallowed a sock. Never did Massimo execute business collaborations in this fashion. The more he witnessed how Lex’s brain worked, the more he fell in love with her. Since day one he’d resisted giving in to her, both on a professional and personal level. He’d never met anyone as selfless, smart and able to help others in his entire life. Her ability to give became her best quality.
“Any more surprises you want to tell me about, my principessa?”
With a pump of her hand, Lex jacked his cock. “No sir, please stand up for me,” she commanded and dropped to her knees.
Massimo jumped onto his toes.
Slacks hit the floor, showing his legs and lower stomach.
Lex yanked his underwear down.
“Bella, what are you doing?” He knew the answer already as he unbuttoned his shirt.
She tugged on his cock with affection and replied, “Giving you pleasure. Sound familiar?” Lex stroked his balls and licked his shaft. She said, “I want your cock, Masi. I’ve wanted your cock all week. I want your load too. Give it to me.”
“Sì, sì, sì, my bella, I will give you whatever you want.” His nuts swelled.
“Such a gigantic dick.” She stroked harder.
His cock rose to her attention. Wiggling his toes in his loafers with anticipation for what came next. Electricity ran up his left leg then his right.
