“Oh, my, gosh. That’s him. That’s Jagger. The one on the Web site,” I whispered.
Our eyes met. Breathe, Seven. Breathe. Struggling to find my breath, I looked away.
Serenity continued, “All the men here are for your pleasure. There’s at least twenty-six men here at all times, sometimes more, never less, to serve and service you any way you’d like.”
In sync, they removed their swimwear.
“Oh, my God,” I cried, admiring each one.
Serenity nodded at me, then said, “They’re all highly skilled in every area imaginable. In your private beachfront homes, your computer has a profile of each guy. All you have to do is send an instant message, and your desired guy is all yours. You can book ahead or last minute. It doesn’t matter.”
I inquired, “What if, say, four of us want the same guy at the same time?”
“As in an orgy?” Serenity asked, seeking clarification.
My face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh no. I’m sorry.”
“We never use that word here. I don’t want to hear it again. No woman is ever sorry.” Serenity said, smiling. “Your question is valid. So if there are conflicts, you’re assigned a number by the requested guy. If you want another woman or a group of women to join you, you have to leave a note for the woman, inviting her to your place, and you must let the guy or guys know as well. Life here is simple. Zero guilt. Take advantage of exploring your wildest fantasies. Enjoy as many men as you’d like.”
Finishing my drink, I admired the last glimpse of sunset shimmering off the tight, perfectly shaped asses, wondering if I could honestly have carefree sexual encounters with strange men while not knowing whether I was pregnant. Maverick was the only man I’d made love to in the past two years.
“Gentlemen, escort your lady to her beachfront home,” Serenity said, waving good-bye.
Two men escorted each of us. I joyfully interlocked my arms with each of my guys, pretending they were both mine. I lowered my head, looking side to side. Damn, they had the prettiest dicks I’d ever seen. My entire body smiled.
I was ready to indulge in pure, unadulterated pleasure.
Chapter 9
Zena
A black stretch Lincoln Navigator with room to comfortably accommodate twelve people parked in front of my office building. Mesmerized, I stood at the window, peeping out from the second floor, as the tall, chocolate, bald-headed driver, with tinted sunglasses darker than the car windows, approached the glass door marked The Zena Belvedere Agency. As I released the fold in the mini-blinds, my heart throbbed; my breath quickened. I stepped back, smoothing out my A-line skirt.
“Ms. Belvedere,” my receptionist announced, “your driver is here.”
Pressing the intercom button, I replied, “Thanks, Donna. Don’t forget to lock up before you leave.”
Nervously, I glided downstairs. He’s the limo driver, Zena, I told myself. Yeah, but he was awakening things inside of me that no man had since Deuce. I shivered, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
Donna stared at the driver, who was holding open the office door. “Have a good time, Ms. Belvedere.”
There was no way I couldn’t have a good time tonight.
“My name is Danté,” he said, opening the back door of the limo.
Wish he’d open my front and back doors, I thought, sinking into the smooth leather seat. “Thanks,” I said. Was I grinning at this tall purple-blackalicious man with glistening white teeth? Or at the view of his dick imprint, which was at eye level, until he closed my door?
My gaze stalked Danté until he settled into the driver’s seat. All I saw after he drove off were buildings, people walking down the street, and trees. The black suede divider shielded my view of Mr. Fine Ass Danté.
What would Seven do? I texted her, Girl, this man is so fine.
No reply.
I texted her again.
U forgot your laptop at my house. Want me 2 send it 2 U?
I prayed she’d tell me where she was. I wasn’t comfortable not knowing where my best friend was. Was she safe? The picture she’d texted me was beautiful. Although she should, Seven would never cheat on Maverick. He’d changed her like no other man we’d talked about. Wished I had a man that attentive who didn’t want kids.
Was this how Seven lived? I had no idea. She drove herself everywhere. She never told me, but I couldn’t imagine a limo picking me up for dinner with Maverick and not doing the same for her. My girl could’ve set me up with Danté. She probably figured I wouldn’t go out with the limo driver. The one time Seven had invited me to a game, Maverick had emphatically told her, “No.”
Danté cruised along the lake, parking at the docks. When he opened the door, it was like a scene straight out of Coming to America. Rose petals had been strewn along a rich ruby red plush carpet leading to a huge white yacht. Holding my hand, a guy dressed in a tuxedo escorted me aboard.
I didn’t get another glimpse of Danté as he drove away. I wanted to see him again. Go out with him. Get to know his story. Fuck him once a week or at least once.
My jaw fell when I saw Maverick dressed in an off-white blazer and slacks, a blue and red silk scarf neatly tucked at his neck, an off-white fedora tilted on his head. The only item missing was a cigar. His smile was warm and inviting.
“You look absolutely beautiful, Zena. But I want you to look stunningly gorgeous,” he said. “Leslie will help you prepare to my liking.”
Prepare to his liking? Is this how he’d captured Seven?
Following this strange woman, Leslie, I understood how my girl had fallen in love with Maverick and why she wanted to drop the twenty-five pounds to please him. Would Seven lie to me about possibly being pregnant?
Leslie interrupted my thoughts. “Once you finish showering, your attire will be over here. When you’re properly prepared, Mr. Maxamillion will join you on the top deck.”
I showered and lotioned my body with Ecstasy Shea Soufflé. Prada perfume rested on the vanity. Dare I spray on Seven’s favorite cologne? Obviously, he wanted me to, otherwise there would’ve been more options, unless this was her private room. Exiting the bathroom, I took a deep breath when I saw, suspended from a hanger, the white dress Seven had bought for her wedding reception. We’d picked out that dress a year ago, together. I stood still, closed my eyes, then sighed heavily. Seven looked absolutely gorgeous in that dress from Bloomingdale’s.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I retrieved my PDA. No text messages from Seven. This was her second day away. Maybe she was busy working out. Perhaps her phone had died. It wasn’t like her not to text me back. I texted her, U okay, girl? then sat my phone on the bed.
My fingers danced along the pearled and sequined knee-length halter dress, which fit me perfectly. “Wow. I had no idea Seven’s life was so elaborate. She was so modest. Humble,” I said aloud.
Glancing at my phone, I saw there was no response from Seven. “Oh, well,” I exhaled. “I can’t keep my new client waiting. Besides, Seven can’t fit in this dress, anyway. Maybe Maverick didn’t want to waste his money.”
Zipping up the dress on the side, I stepped into Seven’s slip-on diamond stilettos. This was probably the only day of my life I’d be a true princess. I was sure my best friend wouldn’t mind letting me step into her world for one night only.
Tap. Tap.
“Are you ready?” Leslie asked, peeping inside the room.
“Lord, forgive me.” I inhaled deeply, then quietly exhaled. “Yes, I’m ready.” For what? I had no idea.
Maverick’s wide smile indicated his approval. “Come. I want you to watch the sunset with me. You work so hard. I bet you don’t take time to enjoy the view. And for me, you will spend lots more time working, so let’s maximize this moment,” he said, not waiting for a reply.
“Maximize? Huh, I like that. Maximize your money with Maxamillion,” I said.
He smiled, nodded, then replied, “I like that, too.”
Joining the captain at the helm, Ma
verick took control of the wheel. Coaxing me in front of him, he placed my hands on the wheel, wrapped his hands around mine, then pressed his pelvis into my ass. The yacht swayed with our departure. I felt his erection nudging the crevice of my ass, his nose nestling in my hair.
Lord Jesus, this is so wrong, but it feels so right, I thought as my ass involuntarily jerked into his dick. “I’m…I’m so sorry,” I said. Embarrassed, I stepped aside.
“Don’t be. We’re going to have to spend lots more time together over the next few weeks, until our business plan and contract are solidified. You have to get to know me in order to represent me, respect me.”
I wanted to say, “But what about Seven? Your fiancée? Remember her?” Maybe I was the foolish one. I’d witnessed business tycoons with huge egos bartering contracts with sexual favors. There was no way I could fuck my best friend’s fiancé. I’d die first.
Maverick motioned for me. “Come closer. Stand behind me. Grip my hands,” he said, snuggling my arms at his waist. “Hold me like your life depends on it,” he said seductively.
My life? Was he insane? I was too far out on the lake not to take him seriously. What if this was some sort of test to see if I was loyal to Seven? What if I’d failed already?
“I’m a bit hungry,” I lied. “Haven’t eaten all day, and the motion is making me queasy.” Of your madness, not the boat.
“Let’s eat then.” Maverick snapped his fingers. The captain reappeared, taking control of the wheel.
Did Maverick act this way all the time? As though everyone was beneath him. His authoritative undertone ignited a chilling bite that could leave one frostbitten on Chicago’s hottest day. Faking a smile, I followed Maverick below deck to the dining area, wondering if Seven had texted me back. Maverick pulled out my chair, then softly kissed my neck before sitting across from me.
Chills penetrated my body. I had to say something. “Maverick, I’m not sure what I’m bargaining for here, but honestly, it doesn’t feel right. Aren’t you concerned about where Seven is?”
“Honestly, no. Are you?” he asked, gulping his Scotch.
“Seven leaves with no clothes. She leaves her laptop at my house, and you don’t care?” I asked him.
“You’re ruining my appetite with all this talk about Seven,” he said.
That’s it. I’m done with this creep. I pray Seven doesn’t marry him.
“You can return Seven’s laptop to me. I’ll have Danté pick it up tomorrow,” he said.
Infuriated, I said, “What? Did she ask you to ask me for her laptop? Do you know where Seven is?”
He sat there, staring through me.
“Answer me,” I insisted.
Maverick’s lips curved into a captivating smile that slowly sucked me in. Exposing his incredibly white teeth, he scratched his head, then casually said, “Since it doesn’t feel right, then you’re not the right one to represent me. After dinner I’ll have my driver take you home. Our business here is done.”
Wrong questions. Wrong answer. Wrong every damn thing. I didn’t want to seem desperate, but this was a prime opportunity to elevate my business, my social status. To be able to say, “I represent Maverick Maxamillion Incorporated,” would triple my clientele. If I did an excellent job for Maverick, he’d give me great referrals. I could stop relying on Deuce to pay my mortgage every month. While I tried to figure out a way to get back into Maverick’s good graces, I sat quietly eating my salad.
The entrées came, then dessert, then the driver, without further conversation between us. I’d messed up big-time this time.
“It was nice seeing you, Zena. I’ll have my personal assistant drop by and pick up the dress and shoes tomorrow, and don’t forget the laptop,” Maverick said, excusing himself from the table.
Leslie approached me, placed her hand on the back of my chair, then politely said, “I’ll escort you back to the car, Ms. Belvedere.”
There was no red carpet, no roses, no limo, no sexy-ass Danté. A wooden deck, a town car, a mediocre-looking driver, and me all dressed up headed home, with no contract. Who knew what Maverick had planned for me tonight? Obviously, I’d messed that up. I sat in silence, pissed with the way my evening had ended.
Parked in front of my home, holding open the car door, staring down at me, the driver said, “Ms. Belvedere?”
“Yes?” I exhaled, terribly disgusted with myself.
“Mr. Maxamillion said that if you’d like to reconsider his offer, let him know, and Danté will pick you up to join Mr. Maxamillion in his owner’s suite at the football game tomorrow night,” the driver said, reaching for my hand.
Of course, I wanted a second chance…to meet Danté and to work for Maverick, but I refused to betray Seven. I sat there, speechless. I was no fool. If I accepted Maverick’s offer, I’d have to fuck him or cross him at some point. I’d be risking my loyalty to Seven.
To say yes might cost me my best friend.
To say no might prove to be the worst business decision of my life.
Chapter 10
Seven
Restless in Punany Paradise. I hadn’t slept well last night.
The two escorts had offered to massage me at the same time. They’d said the traditional welcome relaxation treatment would set the tone for my stay. I was probably the only woman who’d refused. Too much on my mind. Not ready for another man’s touch pleasuring my body. Slightly self-conscious, remembering Maverick’s insult, “You might as well be on the field, helping out.” Undeniably, my feelings of inferiority complicated things, making me feel unworthy.
Mama used to say, “Seven, always love yourself first. First.”
I know. I know that, Ma, I thought, lying in bed, with my eyes closed. In time I’d get back to loving me first.
Wasn’t like I loved Maverick more. I simply hadn’t felt good about myself, about us, since our last conversation. Before turning off the lights, easing into bed last night, I’d turned on my phone, lowered the volume, then placed it on the charger, not wanting to miss a call or text from Maverick or Zena. No intention to respond, just wanted to know if either of them was thinking…about me.
“Let it go, Seven. Let it go,” I’d cried, scrambling my legs in the sheets. Hadn’t slept alone this much in two years. No one to hold me. Brush against. Wake up to. Even if what Maverick and I had wasn’t perfect the last few days, he was home with me every night.
Inside my quiet beachfront suite, a king-size bed centered on a two-step, two-foot platform faced white wall-to-wall curtains. Turning onto my side, I sat up, placing my feet on the floor. Somberly, I sloped to the window, gripped the long clear handles, and slid the curtains apart.
The Atlantic Ocean spanned endless miles, sweeping in every direction. Opening the sliding-glass door, I stepped out onto my private patio. The sound of waves crashing against the shore curved my lips upward a bit, with peace and joy struggling to break through. If I allowed, Mother Nature was there to nurture me in a way that my man couldn’t, wouldn’t.
Going back inside, I browsed the bookshelves adjacent to the computer. Dammit. I wished I’d brought my computer. Couldn’t ask Zena to send it to me; then she’d know where I was. I had documents and files in my laptop that were private. Pictures of me that I wasn’t proud of, that were taken of me in college. One too many drinks had landed me in a few very compromising positions, naked. Some with multiple guys. Others having sex with women. Then there were my financial statements and wedding plans, stored away in marked folders.
Zena knew my code. I’d given it to her once to check the follow-up date for the caterer while I was in the kitchen, cooking dinner for Maverick. Right now I didn’t trust Zena or Maverick. Both would judge me harshly if they knew the type of party girl I used to be.
I refocused on the books in front of me: Up to No Good by Carl Weber, Dying for Revenge by Eric Jerome Dickey, Erotic City by Pynk, Single Husbands by HoneyB, She Comes First: The Thinking Man’s Guide to Pleasuring a Woman by Ian Kerner, and Opening to
Love 365 Days a Year by Judith Sherven and James Sniechowski.
Ordinarily, I’d choose an African American–authored novel, except I’d read all my favorites, and now I wondered when Zane was coming out with her next outlandish novel. Hoping I’d learn something new about love, I selected James and Judith’s book to see if they’d prove me wrong, then went to the kitchen. To my surprise, there were three carafes on ice. I read their labels: raspberry juice, mango-ginger juice, and papaya juice.
I poured a glass of raspberry juice, headed outdoors, and reclined in the hammock. Swaying slowly, ankles crossed, sunglasses blocking the rays, I delved in. The book started as I’d suspected, telling me the other person wasn’t me and that I should remember that my partner’s feelings, beliefs, and behavior were just as valid as mine.
“Yeah, right. Says who? I don’t need a book to tell me that no one is perfect,” I mumbled at the pages, reading on. By the end of the book, the sun was fading, and my heart was softening. Maybe I didn’t know Maverick as well as I’d thought. He certainly didn’t know me. But how much was too much to tell your mate, and how little was not enough?
Closing the book after speed-reading to the end of the last chapter, I decided one day I’d write my life story. Not for the world. For me. For the baby that might be inside of me today or in the future. Why wait? Tomorrow wasn’t promised. I decided I’d e-mail my life story to Maverick, asking him to do the same.
One day, not today. Maybe before I left Punany Paradise.
I could stay here forever and ever, appreciating that no one at the resort bothered me. But I wasn’t here for isolation, I reminded myself. I was on holiday.
“Let me see what’s in that database of Serenity’s.” Rolling out of the hammock, I went inside.
Checking in with Serenity via instant messaging morning, noon, and night was the only requirement for guests choosing to stay in their suite. I e-mailed Serenity. Oops, I just read this. I’m good. Why hadn’t anyone checked on me? Maybe they’d seen me outside reading. How could they? Maybe whoever had delivered my juice had sent her a note.
Maneater Page 5
