Inexplicably, his thoughts drifted to Sophia as his friends continued to joke about their parents.
Sophia’s week went by in a flash. She had seen Michael almost every day over the past week, then once for a fleeting lunch hour visit he managed. And another time was a mere half an hour between work. He’d had a dinner appointment with an out-of-town friend of his he couldn’t get out of, but otherwise, she’d seen him more than she’d have thought possible. Every time they were together, it all felt real - nothing like a fake engagement. Granted, she didn’t know what those felt like.
But the hand-holding, the teasing and the jokes, the not kissing kissing, all felt like they were a part of a real relationship. The way he talked about his job and how his team was working on testing new video chat features for the website and the app. Every now and then, she’d catch him watching her and she got the notion he was in as much as she was, almost as if he too couldn’t believe the attraction between the two of them.
Although they seemed to get closer in that way, he still hadn’t pried about Sophia’s job, and she hadn’t offered him any information. She knew it was wrong, especially because of the judgment attached to that title. And the publicity of his. She didn’t know if he didn’t care simply because they only had two weeks left of their farce or if he just respected the fact that she would tell him if she wanted him to know. Either way, it was a fresh relationship in the sense that he didn’t know what she did for a living because once men knew, they immediately wanted her to give them private shows—lap dances, whatever—as if she had a pole in her bedroom for crying out loud. Not that Michael didn’t get her wound up enough in that sense, he absolutely did, but work wasn’t something she necessarily wanted to bring to the bedroom. Generally speaking.
“You’re up, Sophia.”
“I know. I’m going.”
Tonight was no different from the rest.
The Glass House had a handful of dancers who would run through a few songs one after another, switching places intermittently. A few of the girls though, including herself, had a larger clientele. They were better at pole dancing, more experienced at stripping and dancing in general and they knew how to use aerial ribbons quite efficiently. Tonight, Sophia wore a schoolgirl ensemble – plaid red and black short mini-skirt with a white buttoned blouse that she’d knotted in the front with an ample amount of cleavage showing. No different than the other times, she got up there and did her thing, heart thumping wildly in her chest as she danced around the stage. She had been able to pick up a few extra spots over the week because somehow she knew deep down that the insurance was going to deny her request to cover the prescription. She spoke with the doctor, and he felt it was extremely necessary for Grandma to have it; otherwise he wouldn’t have prescribed it. Duh.
One thing about tonight was how much she felt on edge. She didn’t know what it was, the calm before the storm maybe, but something felt off. Like a set of eyes were on her tracking her every move. Watching her for reasons that had nothing to do with stripping. She’d tried glimpsing around the tables and couldn’t pinpoint what was making her antsy. Whatever was off, it wasn’t her moves or any of the pole dancing moves she’d done, it was something else entirely. She hoped it had nothing to do with her grandma. Whatever it was, sat in her stomach like concrete all night long.
After her number was over, as she made her way around from the back of the stage and down the hall she spotted a shadowy figure bolting away from the dressing room where she kept her purse and duffle bag. Nothing in the room looked out of place, but once she checked her things, suspicious of whoever or whatever that was, she found that her driver’s license had been pulled from the little slot in her wallet and was hanging half-way out.
Not where she kept it.
“Jericho!” she yelled, already dropping her things to report the intruder.
Chapter Eleven
Michael stormed back out of his office, leaving Mindy alone, ignoring her outstretched hand as he plowed past her.
“Regina, did you let her in here?” He bellowed.
But of course, no Regina. His Breitling showed it was lunchtime, which would explain her absence, but he was fuming anyway. Pissed to have Mindy there inside his office. Where the hell was Aslan or Diego? Why would anyone let her into the building?
“Who the fuck let you in here?” He asked angrily in front of Regina’s desk.
“Michael, don’t be silly. I have a key. Besides, the doorman knows me, and he wouldn’t turn me away.”
Michael made a mental note to fire the doorman.
“Come back in, Michael. We need to talk.”
The quicker he allowed Mindy to get to her point, the sooner she would leave. “What do you want?” He crossed the threshold into his office, leaving Mindy standing near the doorway and she took it upon herself to shut the doors behind her.
“Leave them open.” Claustrophobia set in the second she turned around and faced him. He didn’t care if the doors were open or closed most of the time, but having her in there with the doors shut coercing him to face emotions he’d rather not dwell on. It was too close. Feeling out of control was not something he enjoyed, and he didn’t like being forced to think about things like broken hearts and pouty fucking voices.
“No. Listen, we need to talk.” Mindy’s blonde hair flowed around her shoulders, something he knew she hated and only wore that way because she knew Michael liked it. Three years together. Three years separated. Still wasn’t long enough to forget one another. Maybe he never would forget these inconsequential things. His heart had most definitely not forgotten a thing.
“I don’t have anything to say.” He tromped around to stand behind his desk, his fingers straining against his chair while she stayed on the other side. With her bent over, palms flat on his desk, her tits were on full display. The deep valley, the way her bra pulled ever so slightly away from the flesh exposing the pink of her areola, he couldn’t help but look as they teased him. Which was her plan, he knew.
“You like what you see, Michael?”
Fuck. He managed to find her eyes, and they glared at each other over his desk. He was disgusted with himself for enjoying what he could still see of her nipples. Disgusted with the fact that his dick was semi-hard. Irritated that she still had this effect on him even though he and Sophia were…were what? Hell, he was so commitment-phobic that he couldn’t even identify his fake engagement relationship with Sophia.
He didn’t know what this was with Mindy. It was maddening to say the least. Did hating her for breaking his heart turn him on in some weird way? Was this natural? Seeing those gracious mounds he’d once fucked, kissed, bit, marked up and had shaken in his face so many times he’d lost count, he thought perhaps it was muscle memory. Because he didn’t want to fuck her. Honestly. The one woman he wanted to fuck was trying her damnedest to fake a relationship with him and keep her parts in her pants.
“No. I don’t like what I see. I see a woman who uses people, stomps all over their feelings, just to get what she wants.”
“Oh come on, I’m not all bad. I always knew how to treat you good. How to make you feel good, didn’t I?” She walked around his desk and pressed her hand against Michael’s chest.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past. Why’d you come here?”
“Michael, I—”
“Now, Mindy! Why’d you come here. You have ten seconds or I’m calling my security to have you removed.”
“Fine,” she huffed. They stood staring at one another for a moment before the silence began to make him feel uncomfortable as his mind began to think back to all the ways she’d used him.
“Spill it or leave,” Michael said through gritted teeth.
“It’s about your fiancée. What’s her name by the way? Sophia, isn’t it? Sophia Baldwin?”
“Yes. What about her?”
“I did a little digging around, and I’ve come to a conclusion. This engagement is fake, and you have absolutely no idea
what she does for a living, do you? I can tell by the way you’re tightening your jaw and that little vein throbs when you get bested, that you don’t.” Her finger brushed against his jaw and he jerked his chin away. “Curious, aren’t you? I knew this engagement was a bunch of crap.”
He didn’t bother saying anything. Apparently, there were things about him she hadn’t forgotten either.
“She works at The Glass House.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “She’s a fucking stripper, Michael. A stripper. A high-end one, at that.”
Michael didn’t quite believe her. He opened his mouth to deny the accusations but closed it when he realized that he didn’t have a clue what Sophia did for a living. The background check had listed her job as Club Jericho, LLC. He’d never asked, and she’d never told him anything. Why hadn’t he asked? It wasn’t his business. He respected her for caring for her grandmother. They were only keeping this up for a month, it didn’t seem important to meddle deeper into each other’s lives. In all honesty, he assumed she worked at one of those stores that stayed open all night. A stripper? It couldn’t be possible. She was too sweet and innocent. Classy. Too kind to be inside a place where men groped and threw money at women like they were garbage.
“Yeah, that’s right. A stripper. What will the media say when they find out one of Denver’s Most-Eligible Bachelors is engaged to a stripper from the wrong side of town? How will Julia make this go away? She’s a stripper, who, I asked around the club, is always looking for guess what? Money. Money-hungry, one of her co-workers called her. You don’t believe me, do you? I snapped these photos just for you, baby.”
Mindy retrieved her phone from her purse on the other side of his desk and walked back around to him. She stood so close to him he could see the goose bumps on her chest. She thumbed through her phone showing Michael The Glass House, everything. A basic virtual tour of the entire building. He hated it. She also included a few photos of Sophia up on stage as well as her identification. His heart dropped when he saw a photo of her topless. He looked away. A sickening feeling threatened to travel up his throat as he realized what he’d so coveted, something he’d touched and sucked but hadn’t yet seen, was on full-display for thousands of men to look at if they felt so inclined.
He looked Mindy in the eye. “I don’t want to see anymore.”
“You do, trust me.” She tapped her phone and ACDC’s classic, “You Shook Me All Night Long” blasted out while Sophia pranced around the stage in a short red and black skirt that made her look like she belonged at boarding school. She was practically naked while men with slimy hands shoved money into the bands of her clothes by the handful.
“Shut it off,” he growled.
He felt perverted for watching the show without her knowledge. Ashamed. Almost. Even though his gut was churning, it wasn’t the same heartbreak he’d suffered from Mindy, it was something similar though. Betrayal. He swallowed, repeating to himself this entire engagement was fake, but it didn’t make the feeling going away.
They had nothing together.
Didn’t mean anything to one another.
He shouldn’t feel anger or jealousy over any of this. He shouldn’t. Somehow though, in those few seconds, it was already eating him up. He laughed, replaying all those moments they’d shared together: the hot-buttered rum, riding the carousel one afternoon – Michael in his suit, and the many looks she’d tossed his way when he mentioned anything regarding sex.
So much for innocent.
“See? She’s trash. Who stoops that low, Michael? Someone who only cares about money. Probably to feed some drug addiction she has. I can treat you better than that. Let me take care of you.” She wasted no time pleading her case. This was Mindy. Always worried about herself. She didn’t care how Michael felt about any of this. All she wanted was to blow up whatever good thing he had going on so she could move in on him.
“Come on, Michael baby,” she said in her pouty voice. “We’re good together. All the things I can do for you and all the things I let you do to me.”
She set her phone on his desk, and her hands came out to the sides of his suit jacket, pulling the lapels. Ever so quickly, her hands were down, way down, pulling his belt buckle loose and taking his cock out of his briefs.
“See? Some things don’t change. You still want me. You’re hard as hell and even bigger than I remember. Take me, Michael. Right here.”
She continued to stroke his cock, and Michael was so fucking angry and lost, all he could do was watch as she fisted it and jerked it back and forth. It felt sickeningly good. That was the problem – Mindy and Michael had never had a problem in bed. They made love, they fucked, they did everything the two of them got off on, and they did it damn good. Mindy let Michael do anything he wanted to her. She liked every kind of sex imaginable. Open for anything, anytime. She let him fuck her so well. In every thinkable way he could. Apparently, his body remembered all too well too.
She dropped to her knees. Licked her lips in preparation for what she was going to do.
“No way. Get up. Get the fuck out now!” He hauled her to her feet, somehow miraculously managing to put his pants back together in the process. He quickly deleted the photos from her phone, unsure of why, but knew it was something he had to do, before tossing it at her. “Leave, Mindy. I’m not taking you back. Not now. Not ever.”
Obviously flustered, for once in her life, she pleaded with him. “Come on. You’ll be alone again.”
“That’s fine. I’ll take my chances. Somehow I seem to attract one kind of female, and I’m done. With you. With Sophia. Get out.”
Michael opened one of the doors and ushered her through, noticing that Regina was still conveniently M.I.A. He slammed his door shut.
“Fuck!”
He was such a fool. A fool to hold on to an old attraction to Mindy. His body had no problem reacting to her but his mind hated her. Then there was Sophia. He couldn’t believe he thought Sophia was so sweet and innocent. He couldn’t believe he was taking his time, treating her with all this respect, not rushing the sex issue and this entire time she used her body to make money. Showed hundreds of men those perfectly perky tits and big nipples that he’d been dying to see.
Here he thought they were so special.
No.
That he was so special.
And money-hungry? How could he have not spotted that a mile away? Especially after Mindy. He was an idiot to think for a second that any woman would be interested in him for more than his money. All women saw when they met him was an eligible bachelor. Billionaire. Fortune 500 CEO of Together.com. Whatever the hell the media had coined the group of men – the classic billionaire gang. Whatever. All women saw was a shell loaded with money.
Ahh, but isn’t that what you are? his conscious touted. His own house held no personal mementos of him as a person. No magazines, family photos of his parents, him and his brother together. Christ, not even a pair of his shoes could be found lying around. He blamed it on the fact that he was never there. He was always at Together working. When he filled out that form, he had no hobbies because he didn’t do anything other than work.
No wonder women only saw a shell.
He was.
Could he blame them for wanting money and nothing more? Wasn’t that what he exuded? What he offered all the time to women on those two dates? He took them out for fancy dinners, galas and bedded them. It was what he did. Who he was.
Regina appeared but he didn’t have energy to speak more than a few words to her. “Hold all of my calls. I don’t want to be bothered. For anything.”
He stayed in his office the rest of the afternoon. Surprisingly, Regina listened to him, not even taking the chance to bother Michael herself. Around seven, he ordered Chinese food to be delivered directly to his office. He couldn’t even recall what he’d done all day. Looked at a few files. Browsed the business plan Cole had sent over about the women’s shelter he was interested in starting. That was it.
Michae
l had mostly sulked. He wondered what Sophia was doing at whatever time it was when he paced toward the windows. Looking out at all the lights below, he thought about her, where she might be or who she might be with. He ignored the pang in his chest as he thought about whether or not she was working. He couldn’t stop thinking about the images she’d posted on Together of her reading Gone with the Wind and how that seemed so contrary to what he knew about her now.
Michael wasted no time once his food was delivered, devouring every bit of it in record time. He threw away the plastic packaging and sat at the edge of his desk. Cole was supposed to call tonight because he thought he was going to be free but so far, Michael hadn’t heard from his friend. Listening to Cole’s problems about Deluxe’s latest designs of panties and whatnot sounded much better than sitting there wallowing in…what? Betrayal. Disgust. No. It wasn’t disgust. Try as he might, disgust was the last thing he thought about when he envisioned Sophia up on that stage stripping for a bunch of men. Jealousy, perhaps. He was angry that she never felt the need to trust Michael enough to reveal what she did for a living.
If the press got wind of this, they would turn his playboy image into something much more fierce. He wasn’t sure what his board would say. They may ask him to step down. He liked to think not.
He stood abruptly from his chair, once again pacing back and forth from the mass of windows across the length of his office. He couldn’t even guess what Regina must be thinking. She knew Michael was sulking, but she hadn’t a clue why. Time ticked on as he sat, but mostly paced, in his office. He found the solitude of this place more comforting than his penthouse. He felt worthy here. Important. With that thought, Michael realized just how badly he needed to get out of the office. Get a life. Sadly, there was only one place he wanted to be. After more sulking, more pacing, two more tumblers of some seventy-year-old Glenfiddich, he called Aslan and ordered his driver to come and pick Michael up, rescue him from the hell he was putting himself through.
Nothing But Trouble Page 12
