by Stella Rhys
All I’d gotten were her panties.
They were silky, black, and I could have left them in the hotel room after checking out, but at this very moment, they sat on my dresser at home, next to the silver plate I put my watch on at the end of the day. As far as I was concerned, they were mine now. They were my only reminder of the nameless knockout who’d gotten me so hard so fast that I was ready to chase her out when she left and fuck her on the street if I had to.
Of course, shortly after I yanked my pants back on, Emmett’s never-ending stream of friends came in, and just like that, she was lost forever.
But it was for the best.
That was at least what I told myself as I stared blankly at the field, watching the grounds crew prepare the dirt for the bottom of the seventh.
I had enough names to deal with. Turner Roth, Carter Roth, Hayley with the Braids, Cass with the Ass. Once I put a name to a face, I didn’t forget it. I’d built my business from the ground up and along the way, I’d discovered there was no predicting when information could come in handy, no matter how insignificant it seemed.
“Jennifer.” I stopped the waitress in the suite on her way out. She halted eagerly.
“Yes, Mr. Hoult?”
“I have to get back to the office, but I’d like you to do me a favor if you can.”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely.”
“I need you to go to my suite a few doors down. Turner Roth is the blonde-haired guy around six feet tall. He’s wearing a blue shirt and he’s with a girl in a yellow dress named Cass. I apologize in advance for whatever you might see them doing, but when they’re done, will you give him this?” I handed her the business card I’d just scrawled a message on the back of.
She laughed breathily. “Of course, sir.”
“Thank you, Jennifer.”
“You’re very welcome, Mr. Hoult.” She hung around quietly for a second, like she always did. Then she was off, and I was up from my seat, sliding my phone from my pocket.
I had let go of any illusions that I’d be able to recapture Turner’s attention tonight, so I decided to make the best of the situation by doing some maintenance. With a call, I reserved Turner the same penthouse I’d half-enjoyed last week at the Victorian Hotel, and I made sure to request a note beside the Cristal on ice, which would address both him and Cass – a simple gesture that would undoubtedly make her feel special, since making her feel special was at least half the battle in sealing the deal.
Yes, I was winging for the assholes.
Because like sex, business was about making the client feel special, taken care of – like something between a friend and a rock star. So if I couldn’t have a productive meeting with the Roths, then I was going to at least garner favor with them on a personal level by guaranteeing what they clearly cared about most – getting laid. Which was despicable, sure.
But too often, despicable happened to be great business.
4
SARA
This past week had not gone as planned – not by a long shot, and it showed on my face when Lia swung open the door of our favorite coffee shop and spotted me in the corner.
“Oh, bubs,” she instantly pouted.
I was sulking at our usual table, wearing a long red maxi-dress and epitomizing the phrase “all dressed up and nowhere to go.”
“I’m guessing dinner didn’t go so well.”
I made a face. “It was… bad. And awkward. And a little sexist at times.”
“What? What did he say?”
“Lots of stuff about how I should stop freaking out about being unemployed, that it’s okay for pretty girls to not have jobs. Then something about how women are actually a burden to companies, and maternity leave is unfair to men.”
“Wow,” Lia breathed. “That’s super charming for a first date.”
“Isn’t it?” I said dryly.
Out of desperation, I’d tried a date tonight. The match I found on Tinder was a Cornell grad with what looked like a nice smile and a nicer body. I hoped he could be a distraction from the fact that I’d sent out hundreds of resumes in the past week and gotten no replies. Six days wasn’t a ton of time to be out of a job but still, I was getting restless, antsy, and worst of all, I was getting pretty frequently distracted from my job hunt by memories of that beautiful fucking man I was oh-so-close to sleeping with at the hotel last week.
It sounded dramatic, but I was pretty sure he’d ruined me.
I couldn’t get dressed without looking at my own naked body and remembering the way he touched me, the way he licked my neck and kissed my breasts. In the shower, I ran my hands over the parts of me that he’d sucked and squeezed and spanked without mercy, and just thinking about that got me hotter than any sex I’d ever had.
It was torture. Pure torture.
The amount of times I had to pause my day and climb into my bed with my vibrator was actually embarrassing, so Josh from Tinder was my hope for relief.
But then he turned out to be a maternity leave-hating dickbag.
“It’s okay, girl. Onto the next, right?” Lia tried to brush it off.
“I would say that, but I think Elevator Babe might’ve ruined my taste in men forever. The bar’s been set way too high now.”
“He was really that good-looking?” Lia whispered giddily.
I groaned into my hands. “He was literally the best-looking person I’ve ever laid eyes on in my life. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s the best-looking person anyone has ever laid eyes on in their life. In history and this entire world.”
“Excuse me. I may be biased, but I think the best-looking person in the world is my boyfriend, Lukas, but before you roll your eyes at me,” Lia said hastily as I rolled my eyes at her, “I do know of someone in Lukas’s social circle who you’d find attractive. In fact, I’ve told you about him before, but you were never interested in listening and he’s also kind of a huge dick, so I figured it might be for the best,” Lia laughed to herself. “But anyway, if it’s not a dating thing and all you’re looking for is a really hot guy to finish the job that Elevator Babe started then Julian,” she paused for effect after saying his name, “could be the one.”
“Right. I think you’ve mentioned him before.”
“I definitely have. Would you be interested in meeting him?”
“I guess.”
Lia rolled her eyes at my indifference. “Oh my God, look, I know he might not end up as hot as your mysterious Elevator God, but I promise he’s ten billion worlds better than Tinder Josh. In fact, I can say, despite being absurdly in love with Lukas, that Julian is objectively gorgeous. Like, really, really, almost annoyingly handsome – and mega rich, if you’re into that. But anyway, I’m gonna Google him and prove it to you right now so I can go ahead and say I told you so.”
“Lia.” I gently set her phone back down on the table. “It’s fine, girl, I trust you. Tell you what, the next time you text me that you’re all hanging out, I’ll actually join. I’ve always wanted to, but I actually have the time now. In fact, I have way too much time now,” I muttered, plopping my pointy chin into my hand and glaring with frustration out the window.
“Ah, ah. No wallowing, Sara. I forbid it,” Lia said firmly. Taking my hand, she gave it an encouraging squeeze. “Hey, look at me. Do you wanna do something fun tonight? You wanna see if there’s a good chick flick at Alamo Drafthouse? We can get drunk off margaritas and laugh at how people never say ‘bye’ on the phone in movies.”
“That’s an idea.”
“Or.” Lia held up a finger while texting with the other hand on her phone. “We could drink unlimited Veuve Cliquot for free at some billionaire fundraiser on the West Side.”
I had to take a second to process.
“Those are two very different options.”
“I know. But Lukas is at the fundraiser right now, and he says it’s not black tie, so we can totally go. Also…” She trailed off to text some more, silent for several extremely focused and fast-typing seconds.
Out of nowhere, she gasped and pumped her fist. “Yes! Julian’s there. We’re going!”
“Oh God,” I groaned teasingly as I let her drag me up off my chair.
“Don’t ‘oh God’ me, you’ll be thanking me soon,” Lia snapped, slapping a few bills on the table before marching me out the door. “You and Julian, girl. It’s happening. I mean he’s kind of the worst, but he’s probably at least decent in bed.”
“Nice. You sold him,” I snorted as we got on the sidewalk and hailed a cab.
It wasn’t a black tie affair but I still felt underdressed, mostly because everyone around me just exuded wealth. Gliding elegantly past me in every direction were people in Cartier, Prada, Chanel – people boasting the kind of sparkle and polish I couldn’t mimic with my head-to-toe H&M. And if the wardrobe discrepancy didn’t tell me that I was among the one percent, the silver Maserati sitting in the back of the room most certainly did.
“But why?” I squinted at Lia.
“Silent auction?” Lia shrugged. Sipping her champagne, she leaned back on the bar and scanned the room. “There’s Lukas talking to some people,” she murmured. Her voice was casual but when I peeked over at her, she was wearing the dopiest grin from just looking at her boyfriend. I suppressed my giggle. “I don’t see Julian anywhere near him though. I wonder where that jerk is.”
“Again, you’re really selling him.”
“Oh, hush. I could sing nothing but praise and you still wouldn’t care. You’re just so… hung up on this elevator guy.”
Ugh. It was true.
I’d gone ahead and gotten myself completely infatuated with a man I’d spent a grand total of fifteen minutes with. I was supposed to forget that night once it was done, but in my defense, it was never actually finished. I was at the peak of my arousal, more turned on than I’d ever been in my life when some asshole barreled into the room, ruined our night and left my libido hanging indefinitely, it seemed.
The worst part was that I couldn’t feed even my smallest craving for him. Without his name, I couldn’t even Google him and obsess over a single picture of him on Facebook or LinkedIn. I had no name, no leads and sadly, no interest in any other guy thus far. Looking around the room, there were plenty of attractive, impeccably well-dressed and presumably very wealthy men, but not a single one was doing a thing for me. It was bleak.
“Oh, oh!” Lia gasped. “I see Julian!”
I prioritized my last sip of champagne before glancing up and lazily craning my neck to look toward where she nodded. “Which one is he? The blonde guy in the blue?”
“Ugh, no, that guy is blocking him right now.”
“Mm.” I lost interest and opened up Instagram. Lia smacked me.
“Hey! Act like you care! Blue Suit’s about to move so you can see Julian,” she said eagerly. “There, there! The one in the dark grey! Quick, quick, look!”
“Okay, okay!” I stuffed my phone back into my purse and looked up.
Then I felt the blood promptly drain from my face.
The music and chatter dissolved from my ears as my eyes zoned in on the walking sex and perfection I’d recognize from a mile away. I couldn’t believe it. It was him – my nameless hook-up from that filthy, unforgettable night at the hotel. He was standing under the highest point of the domed glass ceiling, surrounded by half a dozen colleagues, friends, and admirers, all of them looking so very rich, important, and dressed to kill.
Their eyes were all on him.
And he was staring directly at me.
5
JULIAN
I took a bigger than usual swig of Scotch, letting the liquid burn its way down my throat. I’d just lost Carter’s attention to some girl, but his wasn’t as important to me, anyway. When it came to business, he yielded to his brother, whose focus I still had.
Till this second, apparently.
“That motherfucker!” he laughed, pointing across the room at Carter. According to Turner, his brother had just claimed the “only real talent” at the party, and now it seemed he was doing his best to impress her by bidding on the stupid Maserati.
“Hey.” Turner elbowed me. “Let’s go over there and outbid him in front of her. It’ll be epic.”
I glanced at the car. “No.”
“Oh, right, you’re not impressed. You’ve got plenty of those babies.”
I did. I kept my collection of cars and motorcycles in a four-story garage I owned on Eleventh Avenue, and for a moment I entertained the idea of going there, grabbing my bike, and riding the three hours to my home in East Hampton – just so I wouldn’t be tempted to waste another minute trying to woo these assholes. But the fantasy was fleeting.
“Hey – why don’t we take one of your rides for a spin? Maybe cruise around town and find some real talent since there’s clearly none in this room,” Turner said, his eyes following a petite brunette. “Boring,” he remarked.
“Turner.” I masked my disgust. “I should remind you that I’m trying to sell the Biarritz resort as soon as possible and you’re by no means the only person interested in buying,” I said, referring to the flagship property in my small chain of luxury hotels.
It was enjoying record profits this year, but I was still eager to get it off my hands. I didn’t want to look at it anymore. Aside from the obvious reason I wanted it gone, I was also in the process of freeing up capital for a privately financed renovation of Empire Stadium. Doing that in partnership with Roth Entertainment would be ideal. It would put me at an advantage for booking concerts and tours, capitalizing on both road games and the offseason to make the stadium profitable year round. I could get fucking hard thinking about how much money could be made from our collaborative efforts.
Of course, those efforts required Turner’s focused attention, which I knew I wasn’t getting when he grabbed my shoulder and grinned.
“Hey. Anyone ever tell you to just relax, Hoult? We’re at a party. Enjoy yourself.” He gave me a shake. “Tell you what, man.” This was the part where he suggested we hit the club to drink and fuck all night before getting to business on Monday. “Why don’t we see what’s going on at 1OAK tonight? We’ll grab Carter, take a spin in one of your cars, and we’ll have a grand finale of balls to the wall partying before buckling down on Monday and really getting to – ” He cut off. “Fuck.”
I looked at him, almost certain that wasn’t the actual end of his sentence. “What?” I asked with irritation.
“Who’s that fuckin’ beauty?” he asked, his face lit up like a Vegas slot machine. Ridiculous. I had to hide my resentment as I turned toward the bar to see what he was seeing.
The long, black hair struck me first. Then it was the knockout fucking figure wrapped in a long, red dress. Gotta give it to him this time, I thought wryly as my gaze moved the rest of the way up to the girl’s face.
When my eyes locked on hers, my heart jumped into my throat.
I stepped back.
“The hell is she doing here?” I hadn’t meant for the question to escape my mouth, but it came out in a shocked mutter that more than caught Turner’s attention.
“What? You know her? Who is she?”
She was the woman I was never supposed to see again, yet here we were. She was a thousand times sexier than I remembered, and I was at a complete loss for words.
“Jesus, Hoult. Hello? Don’t keep me hanging. I’m dying here.”
I tore my gaze off her to look at Turner’s stare fixed with a comical urgency on me. I noted with amusement that for the first time tonight, he had come alive.
“She’s my assistant,” I said.
The words rolled off my tongue before I really thought about what I was saying. I cleared my throat when I finally processed what I’d just done.
“Your assistant? Why haven’t you brought her around? Are you fucking crazy?” Turner laughed joyously like he’d just hit the jackpot.
I glanced up at her again. She’d spotted me with those big eyes, and I wanted nothing more than to make a beeline
for her, rip that dress off her tits and bend that perfect body right over that bar.
But I had a lumbering idiot to tend to.
“What?” I frowned at Turner.
“Jesus – I asked why you’ve never brought her around before. If she’s your assistant, where the hell has she been?”
I thought on my feet.
“She was away the past few weeks,” I said, my heart beating faster as I came up with my story. “She was overseeing the renovation and management change at the Biarritz resort. Her flight just got in tonight, so I wasn’t expecting to see her here.”
Not bad. I had to give it to myself as Turner nodded, accepting my lie.
“No shit,” he muttered, both of us staring at her now. “Poor girl just wants to party.”
I suppressed my smirk as she blushed and squirmed in her seat. I knew the look.
Her pussy was wet.
Christ. I clenched my jaw, wishing badly that I could go back to tasting every inch of her at my leisure. From as far as I stood, I could see her perfect nipples were hard, straining against that thin, red dress. Fuck me. I knew exactly what they looked like under there. I remembered exactly how fucking sweet they were on my tongue, and my mouth watered with the need to suck them again.
But outwardly, I wore no hint of expression as Turner grinned at me.
“Hoult, I owe you an apology,” he declared, patting my back. “I thought you were too straight-laced to hire smoking hot girls like her. Fuck did my dad call them again?” He snapped his fingers when he thought of it. “Office-wreckers.”
“I hire based on capability, and I have a strict rule against interoffice dating.”
“You’re crazy.” Turner licked his lips. “I mean Christ, do you see those tits? Look at those tits.”
Trust me, asshole. I’m looking.
“I have eyes. I know she’s attractive. She’s just far too valuable of an employee to risk anything with,” I bullshitted.
“Uh-huh,” he responded distractedly. “So you, uh… you said she’s your expert on the Biarritz resort? What’s the name of the place again?”
