Working Girl: Volume Two
Page 7
We arrived at the restaurant and Deacon helped me from the limo. He tucked my hand around his arm, and I had to smile at his possessiveness. He had warned me earlier that he wasn’t going to let me out of his sight. I didn’t really mind. I saw the way women looked at him as well, and I wanted to make sure they knew he was all mine.
As we were walking in, he leaned over and whispered in my ear. “When we get back to my place tonight, I’m going to tie you up and blindfold you. It won’t be long before you’re screaming in pleasure.”
He didn’t even give me a chance to respond, greeting a gentleman with a smile and a handshake while I stood next to him, my panties damp from his promise. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath, putting out my hand when he introduced me.
After we greeted a few others, we went to the bar for a drink. He kissed my shoulder. “I have to run to the restroom. I’ll be right back.” He grinned, and as he walked past me, patted my ass. He was insatiable and couldn’t keep his hands off of me. The feeling was mutual. If I could be naked in bed with him twenty-four seven, I would be.
I took my glass of white wine and turned around at the bar to watch the people. I was too busy watching a couple argue to notice him come next to me.
“Hello, Violet. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
There was Eric, standing next to me in an Armani suit, certainly cleaned up compared to the last time I saw him in jeans and a torn t-shirt. His blond hair was slicked back, and the way his blue eyes looked at me made my skin crawl. Memories of his hands on me flashed through my mind and the bile rose in the back of my throat.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked through clenched teeth.
He ordered a drink from the bartender and moved closer. “I could ask you the same thing. High price hooking?”
I clutched my glass so hard I was surprised it didn’t shatter in my hand. “You’re still an asshole.”
The bartender brought him his drink and he tossed it back. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing all these years. I’ve been watching and waiting. You’ll be mine again, just you wait. Deacon Harris will be sorry he ever laid eyes on you.”
Before I could say another word, he was gone. I set my glass down on the bar, my hands shaking and my heart pounding. I had to find Deacon.
I jumped when I felt a hand on my back. I looked over my shoulder, relieved to see it was Deacon.
“Why so jumpy?” he laughed.
I shook my head. “He’s here.”
“Who?”
Before I could even say anything, Charles came over with a concerned look on his face. “Trigger is here.”
Deacon stood up taller and looked around the bar. “Where?”
Charles pointed to the far corner where four goons stood around a guy with a woman on each arm. “Over there.”
I craned my neck to see where he was pointing. “Fuck,” I muttered and grabbed Deacon’s arm. “That’s Eric.”
His eyes widened. “Are you kidding me? Trigger is Eric? Your Eric?”
I glanced back over to him and he nodded at us, lifting his drink with a grin that chilled me to the bone. “Appears that way.”
“What the fuck?” he mumbled.
The End
About the author
Scarlett lives in the Midwest with her sexy husband, two girls, and three furbabies. She dabbled in writing right after college but it wasn’t until she took up blogging about eight years ago that she started writing seriously. After writing a few boring service pieces for some online publications, she went back to her true passion, fiction. When she’s not busy writing steamy stories, she can be found with her nose in a book, camping, or geocaching with her family. She loves Diet Coke, Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, and 80’s hair bands.
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