“Oh, hi again Ethan. Did you need something from me?” she asked, feeling her heart thump wildly in her chest.
“Yeah, I just spoke to Clark and we decided that the retail infographics need your final revisions by Tuesday.”
Emily felt her neck and face become flush. She turned away from Ethan’s gaze and rolled her eyes. Ethan Carlson certainly had a knack for getting under Emily’s skin. Arrogant…confident…handsome…arrogant…lethally sexy. Why was he so damn good-looking? Oh, but don’t forget how big of an ass he can be.
“Are you serious Ethan?” she inquired sharply. “That means I’m going to have to work the weekend. And in case you didn’t know Ethan, it’s a holiday weekend.”
Emily was now directly in front of Ethan, close enough to smell the subtle scent of lemon mixed with warm leather. Emily knew this fragrance well. It was Yves Saint Laurent L’Homme Libre cologne. He wore it every single day.
God he smells divine.
“You can do it Emily, I have faith in you,” he replied smoothly.
What a crock of shit.
Her hand drifted up the wall turn the light off, the office was now dark and she was moving towards the door’s threshold. Ethan inched back allowing Emily to cross giving her just enough space to shut the door to her office. The air between them shifted as she caught Ethan raking his eyes over her. Sweat began to form on the back of Emily’s neck.
“Can I walk you out?” he inquired. His voice was smooth and sultry.
While she would rather Ethan just fuck off and leave her to stew about having to work the weekend, Emily nodded, and he motioned for her to walk first. She took a few small steps, but Ethan ended up right beside her, matching her pace. As they walked down the hallway side by side passing the reception desk, Emily felt something hit the small of her back. It was just Ethan’s hand, leading her out the door. A pleasurable shiver moved through her entire body as a ghost of a smile crossed her lips.
“Plans tonight Emily?” Ethan asked, while opening the door and allowing her to walk outside first.
The warm spring breeze was incessantly whipping strands of her long brunette hair across her face. Emily shook her head to the left and pushed the tousled strands back behind her ear. Emily caught Ethan’s deep brown eyes gazing at her with intensity as she smoothed her hair back into place.
“Yes, big plans,” she replied. “Thanks to you, I have to rearrange my weekend schedule.”
He said nothing, only arching one of his dark eyebrows at her while the curve of his mouth turned upward.
Emily could tell he was irritated with her comment. She decided she’d rather not piss him off, that could be a mistake. Careful with her tone, Emily replied, “Okay, Ethan, so tell me this, why the rush with the paperwork?”
“Emily,” he began, his jaw tightening. “We’re still trying to piece together the mess left behind by your former assistant,” he snapped. “Those infographics should have been done two weeks ago. Your department is a wreck, and we have a major presentation with LA Business Design coming up in a matter of days.”
Emily blanched, and her temper flared. It wasn’t her fault that Morgan was a complete fuck up, but as the Director of Marketing she had to assume some responsibility where Morgan’s less than stellar job performance was concerned. Emily had pushed for Clark’s approval to fire Morgan weeks ago, but Morgan somehow dodged every bullet that came her way and avoided getting fired until Emily was finally left with no choice.
They crossed the parking lot and arrived at Ethan’s black Lexus LS 460. He pressed the button on his car keys and smoothly opened the door of the sleek sedan. As much as Ethan irritated her, Emily couldn’t deny she was physically attracted to him. She imagined for a moment what it would be like sliding into this beautiful work of luxurious machinery with Ethan. With one of his hands on the wheel, the other clutching her knee they would drive up the lakeshore to his beach house for the weekend. Biting her bottom lip at the delightful thought, she quickly pushed it out of her mind feeling a bit embarrassed.
The sun was shining directly in Emily’s blue-green eyes, so she placed her right hand on her forehead to shield the blinding light allowing her to see Ethan looking back at her. God he’s good looking. Why did he have to have a girlfriend? Better yet, why was he such an arrogant prick? Emily spied her silver Audi two rows over from Ethan’s car. Pivoting on her heel, she began to walk away.
“Well, Emily I would hate to know that your job was interfering with your big weekend plans,” he called after her. “Why don’t you meet me back here around seven and we’ll work on the infographics together?”
Emily’s blood sizzled in her veins. Shifting her gaze back to Ethan, she replied calmly, “Fine, Ethan, thank you for the help. I will see you at seven.”
Chapter Three:
Amanda
Amanda Parsons had only been up for four hours and decided to finally shower. She was out partying the night before with her co-workers from The Bath Shop. They had completed the floor set by midnight and they were totally wired. Amanda was, of course, the one to suggest they hit the bars. Finishing her shower, she decided she would hit up her favorite designer discount boutique, My Sister’s Closet, and see if she could find some stylish clothes to sell in her eBay store. She had sixty dollars to her name at the moment and probably should not have been shopping, but she told herself she needed to go. Payday was tomorrow, so she felt she could make it until then with just a short money supply. Besides, if she absolutely needed the cash, she could always manipulate her roommate Daniel for Starbucks or a meal.
Daniel and Amanda had met a few months ago when he travelled to her store at Woodfield Mall to fill in for one of the managers who had gone on vacation. The pair became fast friends with their love of spa products and iced cappuccinos. Daniel and his boyfriend of four years had just broken up, and he found himself needing a roommate. It worked out well for Amanda because she had been living with her divorce lawyer, and he had just taken a job in Boston.
Amanda did not want to move nor continue the affair. Sleeping with your divorce lawyer should only be rewarded if he wins you an exceptional amount of money, which he was incapable of doing for Amanda. However, since he was a much better fuck than a divorce lawyer, she broke her rule rewarding him with the pleasure of taking her to bed nearly every night.
Amanda slid into her white Nissan Altima, sweeping aside the empty coffee cups and bags from Wendy’s and McDonald’s to make room for her purse on the passenger seat. The scent of grease hung in the air, which was amplified by the heat from sitting outside in the sun. She quickly rolled down her windows. The smell was almost unbearable.
Listening to the radio, she wondered what semi-glorious fashion treasures she would find. Last week she found a vintage Chanel purse, a pair of lightly worn Jimmy Choo pumps and an off-white strapless chiffon gown with slight fabric pulls, probably from the previous owner’s fingernails.
It was in this moment that Amanda felt sad having to shop at lower end and bargain shops. It was only a short time ago when she was shopping in the finest stores in the world—Dior, Chanel, Prada and Louis Vuitton. A few years ago she never would have stepped into a place like The Bath Shop or My Sister’s Closet, but now, this was her reality.
After Amanda had dropped out of Notre Dame in October of her junior year, realizing college was not her thing, she packed her bags and jetted off to Milan for a few weeks, then onto Paris, London and finally Monte Carlo. Her time in Europe was thrilling, spending Thanksgiving with friends in the South of France talking about wine, current events and literature. She spent Christmas skiing the Alps in Switzerland and drinking wine by the fire with her then boyfriend, Matthis at his cozy chalet.
One day while in Monte Carlo she went to the ATM machine to pull out some cash and found she had insufficient funds. Tha
t was her father Jack’s doing, who was furious with his daughter upon finding out that she had dropped out of college without so much as a word. Amanda was ordered to return to Bloomfield Hills immediately. If she didn’t want to go back to school she would have to get a job.
While she would rather not work at all, Amanda knew her father would help her find a suitable job. With all of his contacts she was certain there was someone who owed him a favor. That favor was a job at WWSK 950 AM in Detroit where she landed her own talk show. Surprising even herself, Amanda was elated about this career opportunity. It turns out she had a real talent for engaging guests in interesting and thought provoking topics. The Amanda Parsons Show generated the second highest ratings at the station, only behind the very famous syndicated news talk host, Brian Rush.
Beep…Beep…Beep.
Pulled from her thoughts, Amanda realized she was stalling traffic. She gave a gentle wave in her rearview mirror to the person behind her saying, “Sorry, sorry. I’m going!”
She arrived at the boutique finding a parking spot near the entrance. Amanda took her phone out of her purse and checked into the store from her Facebook page. She’d lost most of her country club and society friends from the fallout of the scandal. Her Facebook friends list was limited to those few hangers on, new people she had met and her co-workers. While she had her phone out Amanda sent a text message to Emily Greene to see if she wanted to go out for drinks later. Emily was one of her few friends who had a lot of money, and she could take advantage of that opportunity, getting Emily to pay for all the drinks. She would tell Emily to put the drinks on her credit card and Amanda would tell her that she would give her cash once she got paid, which she would never do.
Emily replied saying she had plans for the evening and could not make it. Amanda sighed, thinking to herself, yeah right. Amanda had a feeling that she was being lied to.
Despite her animosity towards Emily, Amanda needed to keep her as a friend. Emily had resources and connections that could help Amanda achieve certain personal and career aspirations. Amanda knew that Emily’s assistant was just fired, and even though Amanda couldn’t really see herself working for Emily it was a better alternative than the mall.
Amanda walked over to the wall of shoes adjacent from sportswear section. There, amongst the worn tennis shoes, snow boots and gently scratched patent heels, sat a pair of black spiked Christian Louboutin heels. Amanda checked the size. She could not believe her good fortune that they were an exact fit. Amanda’s green eyes began to widen and she ran her index finger over each one of the spikes affixed at the toe. Sliding her sherbet colored ballet flat off her right foot she delicately eased into the gorgeous shoe, feeling her stomach tingle at the sensation of her toes as they hit the supple leather lining.
“Those stilettos look quite lovely on you,” a velvety smooth voice complimented.
Amanda turned around, slightly startled. With the height difference in the shoes, she needed to balance herself carefully. Looking up through a few of her golden blonde waves that had fallen in her face she saw the man, approximately in his early-forties, standing there smiling at her. He was insanely good-looking, tall with dark brown hair that was almost jet-black, and sparkling blue eyes, the kind of blue eyes that a girl could get lost in if she stared long enough. Placing his hand on his hip, moving his grey overcoat back, he revealed his lean physique under a fitted black shirt paired with sleek black dress pants.
Wow, just…wow. He is completely – beautiful. He doesn’t need to know that, yet.
“Thank you. I think they’re pretty fabulous,” she replied sweetly.
“I’d love to buy them for you.”
“You want to buy me shoes? I don’t even know you,” Amanda stated while slipping off the flat on her left foot and putting on the matching heel.
“My name is Vince.” Introducing himself casually, while he ran his hand through his dark hair, he asked, “What is your name?”
“Amanda,” she said while gazing at her reflection in the mirror carefully examining the shoes. She stood sideways with her left side closest to the mirror so she could view the entire heel. Amanda then switched to her right side, hyperaware that Vince’s gaze was carefully affixed on her body.
“What, do you have some sort of weird ass foot fetish?” Amanda inquired sharply as she turned around to face Vince.
Vince laughed as he took a step toward her with his shiny black oxfords. “No, I do not have a foot fetish. I simply thought the heels looked nice on you.”
“This is bizarre, this is discount style boutique. Not Bergdorf Goodman’s. I would expect this sort of scenario to happen in a nice department store, but not here.”
Inquiring seductively, Vince gave her a sly smile. “Shopping at Bergdorf Goodman’s, would that make you happy, Amanda?”
Amanda, still wearing the Louboutin’s looked Vince squarely in the eye and said, “Yes, that would make me very happy Vince.”
“Well, as much as I would love to charter a private jet to New York City and take you shopping Amanda, I cannot do that for you today. I have a dinner meeting tonight.”
“What makes you think I would let you jet me off to New York City for a pair of shoes?” she asked coldly. In her mind she was doing backflips and screaming that a handsome man with money wanted to buy her shoes! Amanda knew this game and she had no shame about it.
“Wouldn’t you?” he asked lifting one of his dark eyebrows.
Stepping away from the mirror, she turned her back to Vince. She felt his eyes watching her as she worked her body in the most appealing way while bending down to slip off the shoes, placing them back on the rack.
“Maybe, how about you take me to dinner first?”
Vince reached into the inside of his jacket pocket and retrieved a business card. Amanda felt her hands begin to sweat, this hasn’t happened to her in months. He took a pen and wrote something on the back. He leaned closer to her. She felt the crackle of electricity as Vince’s fingertips grazed her hand as he pushed the card into her palm. The textured card read: VINCE L. EVERETT, FOUNDER + CEO, EVERETT STERLING AVIATION. She flipped the card over and saw a ten-digit number that said, “PERSONAL CELL”.
“You can call me anytime at that number. I look forward to hearing from you, Amanda,” he said with a smile. He turned and walked towards the door.
“Thank you Vince Everett. I might be in touch,” Amanda called out.
Still walking, he turned his head over his left shoulder and held up his right hand and gently waved.
Walking hurriedly towards the door she removed the car keys from her Gucci handbag, one of the few things she was able to keep from her divorce. She looked left and then right making sure that the intoxicating and handsome man she had just met was no longer in the parking lot to see her get into her old beat up car.
She was grinning from ear to ear. If this works out, I won’t need Daniel, Emily, or that bitch Ashleigh anymore. Goodbye shitty mall job. Hello Sugar Daddy and new Louboutin’s.
Dating a guy who could charter a private jet at a moment’s notice made Amanda’s insides churn with excitement. The mere thought of having money again made her feel giddy all over. Now, all Amanda needed was the perfect outfit for seduction. In her mind she already had the dinner date planned for Saturday evening.
Chapter Four:
Ashleigh
Ashleigh walked down the aisle of the plane eyeing where she thought her seat was located and saw the row was empty. Only a young curly haired blonde girl wearing a University of Michigan sweatshirt and a twenty-something brunette wearing a yellow tank top paired with a black cardigan were seated in the row in front of her. To her right there was a young Saudi-American couple, or possibly Persian, sitting very close to each other looking at photos on a cell phone. By their happy glow, Ashleigh suspected t
hey were newlyweds returning home from their honeymoon, plus their rings were quite shiny, which was another sign that they were probably newly married. No one was seated behind her, and everyone seemed to be filing back to coach class.
Ashleigh settled into her seat grabbing the iPad and headphones out of her handbag. The flight attendants closed the door and began their preflight checks. After several moments, the loudspeaker came on: “Flight attendants, please prepare doors for departure, crosscheck and all-call.” The plane began to back away from the gate and then headed to the intended runway for takeoff. Ashleigh could see the London skyline in the distance lit up so beautifully against the night sky.
See you later London. Until next time Liam.
The plane sped faster and faster down the runway. Ashleigh’s heart began to beat rapidly. Feeling her body tense up, Ashleigh grabbed the armrests on both sides of her seat as the plane began to ascend into the night sky. She sighed deeply, releasing all the anxiety from her body. Suddenly the rain began to fall, hitting the windows. She closed her eyes remembering the smell of the rain on that spring night.
The Corinthia Hotel’s grand re-opening was a lovely affair. The two hundred and ninety four room hotel was once home to the Ministry of Defense. It was hard not to notice Liam standing at the end of the sleek marble bar in The Northall. He was wearing a midnight navy suit with contrasting notch lapels and ordered a martini “shaken not stirred.” He walked right up to the bar and ordered the martini James Bond style. That just happened! Seated two seats away from where he was standing, Ashleigh found this to be amusing and laughed quietly to herself while looking in Liam’s direction. He caught her eyes on him and winked. Liam approached her smiling, but Ashleigh spoke first. “Why Mr. Bond, I would have never guessed you’d order a martini.”
Fifteen Weekends Page 2
