“How many in your party? As you can see, we’re extremely busy this evening, so you may be waiting for a while,” the woman said.
“I’m here to meet someone and I think we have reservations,” I said looking around.
“Party name?”
“Miller. Stefan Miller is his name.” I was stuttering.
“And your name is...?”
“Ryder Hanson.”
She smirked. “Yes, the other half of your party is already here. Follow me.”
My eyebrows creased, I followed her through one large dining and around a corner into another where there were significantly fewer tables and only one was occupied.
A man with a neatly trimmed curly afro sat at a table looking into his phone, taking an occasional sip of what appeared to be Bordeaux. He was tall and slender, a regular at the gym. The custom business suit he wore was charcoal grey with hot pink lining. Diamond cuff links glistened on his wrists.
I adjusted my collar and headed for the table. “Mr. Miller?”
He put the phone on the table and looked up at me. His eyes crinkled in the edges when he narrowed them. “Mr. Hanson, a pleasure.” He stood and shook my hand, almost crushing it in the process, and then he sat down, inviting me to do the same.
“It’s good to meet you and put a face to the name,” he said pulling his suit jacket. “What are you having?” He pointed at his glass.
“Oh no, I’m fine,” I said thinking about the several Coronas I’d drowned my sorrows in earlier.
Miller frowned.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too. You come highly recommended.” I scraped my palms against my pants.
“I’m sure. I’ve been doing this for quite some time and it’s good to know my reputation has caught up with me. So,” he clapped his hands together. It was time to get down to business. “How can I be of service?”
I inhaled and prepared to rattle off the speech I had been practicing since I left the café that afternoon. “There’s this woman...”
“A woman,” he repeated. “Who is she?”
“Her name is Laila Renaud.”
Stefan sniffed, but his face was straight. “She must be pretty special if you’re willing to pay my rates.”
Silence.
He picked up his drink and sipped at the straw. “Tell me about her.”
“She’s one of my colleagues. We’re interns at Hamilton Associates and we’re both trying to do the same thing: impress the big boss. The only problem is I feel like she has a leg up.”
“Literally?”
I scratched at my eyebrow. “Maybe.”
Miller paused, peering at me around the straw. “Hamilton Associates, huh? That’s the big, bad insurance company downtown. Run by Dylan Hamilton.”
“Yes.”
“So what’s it to you?” he questioned me. “Say this woman, Miss Renaud, is sleeping with the boss. Why do you care?”
“We’re students, Mr. Miller.”
“So?”
“Both Laila and I are vying for a position at Hamilton Associates. It’s every student’s dream. It’s one thing to win fair and square, but for her to use her femininity as a means to make it to the top – it’s unacceptable.”
“It happens all the time.”
“Not when I’m in the running, it won’t,” I asserted.
Miller leaned his back against the chair and pursed his lips. “I’m sorry if it feels as if I’m interrogating you,” he apologized, “I’m simply trying to gain a deeper understanding of the issue.”
I nodded, my head feeling like a bowling ball on my neck.
Miller leaned forward. “Were you two in a relationship at some point?” he asked.
“Yeah, at one point,” I admitted.
“And you still have feelings for her?”
I paused. “I do.”
He tilted his head to the side. “So that’s an additional motive for you wanting this kind of revenge. You want to get back at this woman. You feel slighted. Is that part of it? If you can’t have her, no one will?”
“Perhaps.” I cleared my throat. “I’m no match for Dylan Hamilton,” I admitted. “If he has her affections, I don’t expect to win that battle.”
“So what are you goals?”
“I want evidence of their relationship.”
“Let me get this straight: you want me to send my men out, get some raunchy pictures of the great Dylan Hamilton sticking it to your boo-boo, and then what?”
The scenario he drew made me shudder with rage.
“I take the evidence to the dean of the Business School at Johnson and Wales and... she gets dismissed from the program.”
Miller’s eyes widened, and he grinned. “You’d really do that?”
“It’s business,” I said, but I hardly believed myself.
Miller slapped the table and guffawed. “Man, you cold,” he accused me. “Shit, I wouldn’t wanna double cross you, no time!”
I smiled and watched him slurp up the remains of his beverage.
“And what of Dylan Hamilton?”
“I present that evidence to his Board of Directors,” I whispered.
“Hamilton is a mogul,” Miller reminded me. “No one will care if he’s sleeping with some random student.”
“I’m not so sure,” I challenged him. “Shareholders get nervous when dealing with unscrupulous businessmen. They think it impacts stock value.”
Miller’s eyes narrowed. Silence dropped onto the table.
“Fine,” he agreed suddenly. He reached into a briefcase, pulled out a manila envelope and slid it across the table. “Here’s my contract. Fees for service are on page seven.”
I pulled the envelope towards me.
“If you’re serious, read it and sign it. The minute I receive the initial payment I’ll get to work.”
Miller pushed his chair back and gathered his briefcase. He pulled a pair of mirrored sunglasses from inside his jacket and slid them over his eyes.
“Wait,” I said suddenly. “Do you...” I moistened my lips. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”
Miller smirked. “Mr. Hanson, you’re not paying me to provide personal advice,” he said. “You’re a grown-ass man, aren’t you? Are you ready to deal with grown-ass business?”
I swallowed.
“I’ll tell you this, though. I’ve heard of Dylan Hamilton and he’s not one to mess with. He’d ruin you if he ever found out.” His eyebrow raised. “Make sure you keep this little investigation to yourself. You understand?”
We nodded our partings, and then he walked out of the restaurant.
Chapter Seventeen
Dylan
‘My Turn’
“If we consider merging with RenRe, we can expect a spike in our gross of just under 1.3 billion, per annum.”
“Right...”
Silence.
Carter cleared his throat and it was only then that my eyes focused in on him. “I mean, right,” I said again, grabbing a file from my desk. I started flipping through the contents, trying to pretend that I knew what we were talking about.
Carter stared at me. “Dylan, what are you doing?”
“What do you mean, what am I doing?” I peered into the file. “I’m following what you were saying: RenRe, 1.3 billion...”
“But the file you’re holding,” he pointed at it, “it’s the company expense report. Specifically, the one related to the janitorial supplies...”
My eyes bulged into the file and it was only then that I noticed the numbers related to toilet paper orders. I dropped it to the desk and raked my fingers through my hair.
Carter leaned back in the chair he was sitting in. “Dylan, where are you? Because one thing is for sure. You’re not in this room.”
I scrubbed the back of my neck trying to suppress an immediate smile. There was no way I could discuss the things that had been consuming my thoughts for the past seventy-two hours with him. I had immediately called Stefan to divulge the del
ightful details of the steamy night I had spent with Laila. By the time I left her apartment, the sun was inching above the buildings. I had written a note and left it on her night table, and then I kissed her cheek tenderly before slipping out of the front door.
Three days had passed, and no work had been done on my part. There were meetings I was supposed to be preparing for and clients I was supposed to be meeting, yet the only thing I could think about was how badly I wanted to be buried deep inside of Laila’s love at least one more time.
Carter was calling my name again and he was laughing. “Dylan, I have never seen you like this. You took my advice, didn’t you?”
“What advice was that?”
“You took Emily out on a date,” he predicted. “The two of you spent some good quality time together and now all your fears about committal have disappeared.”
“Not quite,” I said. “I ended it, Max. I told her I couldn’t do it. I’m a single man now.”
“And she didn’t put up a fight? That’s not like her at all.”
“I know,” I agreed staring ahead. “I guess she realized that trying to force me to stay doesn’t make any sense.” I shrugged.
Max shook his head. “Well, that explains why you’re suddenly so relieved and carefree all of a sudden. Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re making a mistake, but I’m glad the stress is off your shoulders for now. You could have made it work. Take it from me, Dylan,” he suggested, “from a man who knows what it’s like to be in a relationship that doesn’t seem like it’s going anywhere. My wife and I have been through some rough periods.”
I thought about his words. “So tell me,” I begged. “Has there ever been another woman? And I’m not talking about infidelity,” I clarified, “I’m talking about another woman – a woman who seems incredibly perfect? A woman with whom you connect on a level so deep, you wonder if she was made just for you?”
Max paused. His eyes narrowed slightly. “There was.”
I moved around the desk and sat in the chair across from him.
“When I was a kid, there was a girl in my neighborhood. I was head over heels in love with her, but for the longest time I didn’t have the courage to say anything to her. Not even a hello.”
We laughed.
“One day I walked into the library and I saw her sitting there. She looked like an angel.”
“What did you do?”
“I gathered all the courage I could muster and marched right over to her. We started talking and from that very moment, I knew she was the girl I wanted to marry. We dated for a while,” he added. “Not very long, in fact.” Max shrugged, and a sorry look flashed in his eyes. “But then she moved away with her parents and I never saw her again.”
“That’s tough,” I muttered. “I can imagine what it must feel like to be so into someone and not be able to have them the way you want to.”
My thoughts fled to Laila. I was into her and I wanted her. The difference between me and Max was that I was going to find a way to have her.
IT WAS 8:45 AND I WAS staring at the phone with my elbows perched and my hands clasped in front of my mouth. There was a terrible war going on in my mind and I didn’t know which side would win. I wanted to experience Laila Renaud again, but to do that would be to further open the can of worms. The responsible thing would have been to leave what happened between Laila and me in the past. It had happened, and it was our secret; that was what we had agreed. I hadn’t seen her since and that was a good thing, I told myself. Besides, like I’d said to Max, I was single now. That meant I could be with any woman I wanted. I could call Stefan, we could meet at LIV, and pick up women. But somehow that didn’t appeal to me. There was only one woman I wanted.
I groaned and pushed the chair back. Standing at the window, I watched the twinkling lights from the neighboring buildings glow like fireflies in a bottle. I threw my arms over my head. Trying to minimize the weekend was impossible. Laila had been just as hungry as I’d been, and she’d indulged my voracious desire. I moistened my mouth, hoping to catch the taste of her on my lips, but it had long gone. The craving for her was growing more and more intense, but there was no way I could or should have her again.
Right?
I paused and walked over to my desk and dialed numbers on the phone.
My butler and right-hand man answered. “Ignacio, where are you?” I listened to his response. “No, don’t head to the house yet. Turn around. I need you to pick something up for me.”
“Of course, sir. What do you need?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose trying to piece the impromptu plan together in my mind. “Head to that French restaurant, La Petite Maison, and pick up an entre and a bottle of wine.” I provided him a few details. “Take it upstairs. I’m going to stay at the office and work late tonight.”
“Of course, sir.”
I hung up. Then I stood, staring at the phone again. I dialed more numbers and hovered over the desk, the phone pressed hard against my ear, waiting to hear her voice. She finally picked up, but it took a second to get a response.
“Dylan.” Laila’s voice caressed my ear and my grip tightened around the phone.
I swallowed and plunged into the chair. I hadn’t expected her to answer and had prayed that she wouldn’t. “Laila, why on earth are you still here?” I whispered.
“I’m working,” she responded. “I always stay late, you know that.”
“Where’s everyone else?”
“Ryder and the others left a few hours ago.” She paused. “Did you need something?”
I pulled at my collar and dropped my head into my hands. “I want to see you,” I muttered. I sat up straight. “Please, come to my office on the 34th floor.”
Silence.
“Laila, am I the only one who has been consumed with thoughts of Friday night?”
“No,” she admitted, “you’re not the only one, but – ”
“Then please,” I begged her, “just come.”
“Dylan, it was only supposed to be one night.”
“I never said that.”
She sighed. “We shouldn’t,” she said. She was talking to herself.
“I know,” I agreed, “but I really want to... Please don’t argue with me. Just come.”
It took Laila five minutes to arrive on the 34th floor. My heart raced inside of my chest when I saw her standing there in a high-waist pencil skirt and silk blouse. Her firm, toned legs were long and sleek, and the black stilettos she was wearing augmented her sex appeal by several dimensions. Upon seeing her, I marched to the door and grabbed her by the hand. I pulled her into me and her firm, perky breasts pressed against me. Her nipples were taut, and I could see them through the thin silk. My head dropped. I captured her mouth in a hungry kiss, groaning in deep satisfaction and relief.
Her arms wrapped around my neck and her fingers raked through my hair, sending waves of erotic energy through me. We kissed fervently and the pleasure at knowing the desire went both ways was intoxicating.
Laila pushed me off her then gripped my tie and pulled me back. Her sweet lips pressed against mine and I grabbed her face, not wanting to be separated from her, even for a second.
“You said you wanted to see me?” she growled, fingering the buttons of her silk blouse. My eyelids were heavy with need and longing. She was taking too long to unbutton her shirt.
I ripped it open. Buttons flew. Black lace appeared. I lifted the bra and her breasts spilled out. In an instant I put one in my mouth and lifted her off the ground. Her skirt rose. I carried her to my desk, never once breaking our desperate connection. With my free arm, I swiped whatever was on top of it off and sat her down. Laila opened her legs seductively. Her warmth and sensual fragrance made my mouth water. I licked my lips and lowered my face between her legs. Her head flew back, and she grabbed my neck as I pleasured her. But the pleasure was all mine.
Her sensual nectar dripped into my mouth, but it wasn’t enough. The thirst I had for her refused to
be quenched.
Laila pulled my head up and her fierce, passionate eyes pierced mine. She undid my belt buckle and unzipped my pants. My aching manhood stood tall, long, and erect, searching for her entryway.
“Not yet,” she muttered. “It’s my turn now.” Laila hopped off the desk and dropped to her knees. I gazed down at the top of her head as she ran her hands up the length on my thighs and fit my strong member into her mouth, sucking it. The immediate warmth made my eyes roll back and I spit out an expletive.
“Pull my hair,” she requested.
“You like that?” I asked, my eyes glinting.
“Pull it.”
I wrapped my hand around her long tresses and tugged once. Her mouth flew off me, but she pulled me back in before I could even miss the touch. I yanked her hair again, harder, and she whimpered. Again, her mouth flew back to my swollen member. Her tongue rolled around the head and pleasure built up inside of me. I was about to explode.
“I’m gonna come...” I growled.
“Not yet...”
She rose and put her hand against my chest, pushing me back until I fell into the chair; then, with all the elegance and grace she possessed, she lowered herself on my stiff erection . Her eyes sealed; her bottom lip caught between her teeth. I gripped her waist and lifted her high, then dropped her back down.
She moaned and called my name.
I lifted her high and dropped her back down.
She moaned. Her eyelashes fluttered.
My hands tightened around her trim body until I feared I might pierce her skin, but the adrenaline would not allow me to handle her more delicately.
Laila rolled on top of me, forcing me to clamp my teeth on my bottom lip. I pulled her face close to me and took her with a kiss as an intense storm of emotion showered over us and we climaxed. I stared at her, unable to divert my gaze, and she gazed back, searching my face with her beautiful eyes.
“Was that all you wanted, sir?” she asked with a smile. I returned her smile and my head hung. My hair, now tousled, fell into my eyes.
“Not quite,” I replied. My eyes slowly lifted to meet hers, and captured her mouth once more.
Oui: A BWWM Romance (The French Connection Book 1) Page 10
