by Imani King
We hadn’t had sex, of course, but I knew it was on his mind. I don’t think I’d ever had a man look at me the way Dorian did. He flirted incessantly, and I might have encouraged it a little more than I should have. At first I thought he was just buttering me up so I would help him, but there was something sincere behind his eyes. It was an ethics violation to keep having these little meetings, but a part of me wanted to keep seeing him…
And maybe do more than just see him.
I tried to shake the thought out of my head and took another sip from my glass. It was never going to happen. When all of this was over Dorian would go back to his supermodels and his mansion, and I’d go back to my crippling debt and my shitty apartment. I was just a distraction right now, and I knew it.
“So how’s the wife hunt going?” I asked, shaking off the thoughts rolling around in my head.
“Bad, seeing as I’ve spent my last handful of days in my Grandfather’s room. I swear if I have to spend another week listening to him I might just marry his nurse and be done with it.”
“Helga?” I laughed, hard.
“She’s a strong woman,” Dorian protested. “Love knows no bounds Gigi!”
I just laughed harder. The idea of Dorian standing at the altar with the short, elderly, and almost supernaturally muscular Bavarian nurse was too much to handle. “I think she might be a bit past the baby making stage,” I managed to get out.
“Be that as it may,” Dorian said, tapping his finger on the table, “the contract didn’t line out terms for the pregnancy. In-vitro fertilization is on the table.”
“Get serious Dorian,” I replied, catching my breath. He sat back and smiled at me, letting his shoulders flex and settle into a comfortable position as he took up his side of the beautifully carved wooden booth. I took a moment to admire the way his body moved against the inside of his incredibly well tailored suit… A suit that probably cost more than my now repossessed car…
“You still with me Gigi?” his voice drifted into my hazy thoughts and snapped me back to attention. He had the kind of shit eating grin on his face that let me know he’d caught me admiring…
“Sorry, it’s still early,” I said, grasping at my coffee and taking a drink as I looked away.
“Anyone ever tell you how sexy you are when you’re nervous?” Dorian asked. Before I could respond, I felt the tips of his fingers brushing up against my left hand, softly running the tips across and setting off little sparks of sensation as a shiver went straight up my spine.
There it was again. The raw attraction. Before I’d met Dorian the closest I’d come to feeling this way was in a dream. Now every muscle in my body was taut like a bowstring, anticipating his touch. We’d been meeting like this for days and he’d never been anything but a gentleman. He might get a little flirty, but it felt safe because he never tried to take the next step. With his hand against mine, I wondered if maybe he’d invite me out tonight…. And if he did… Would I take him up on the offer?
I jolted myself upright, pulling my hand away.
“What’s wrong?” Dorian asked, cocking his panty melting smile at me again.
“This is just… Don’t play with me like this. You know there’s a line I can’t cross. I know exactly what you want, and I’m not here for your personal pleasure.”
“I never said you were. Besides, I’m in a giving mood tonight.”
I wasn’t used to someone being so forward. My experience with men had been limited, and having someone like Dorian chasing me was empowering. I could smell his alluring cologne, and my hormones were making their first appearance since I was a teenager. I’d all but given up thinking any man could make me feel this way. He didn’t hesitate, moving himself around the table and standing above me.
“You’re always so focused on the needs of others… I can see that in you, but sometimes… You need to be selfish,” he whispered, his fingertip gliding along my neck just beneath my carefully straightened hair.
“Dorian…” I replied, looking up at him. It was so strange to see him from this angle, his body powerfully dominating my personal space. He was tall, and for a brief moment, I wished I could hook my thumbs into his belt and pull him closer.
“Surely there’s something you want, Gigi,” Dorian said, smiling. His scent was almost as intoxicating as the wine. My whole body buzzed, waiting on him to pull me from the seat and drag me out of here. Then, my body buzzed again… And again…
“Shit,” I gasped, fumbling at the little purse on my lap. Dorian seemed mildly amused as I pulled the old school vibrating cellphone from its hiding place and held it to my ear. “Yes Mrs. Lambert. Of course. Fifteen minutes,” I replied to the matriarch’s demands, slamming the phone shut and throwing it back into my bag as I shoved Dorian aside and got to my feet.
“Fifteen minutes? You must not think very highly of me Gigi,” he said, grinning like an idiot before taking notice of the look on my face.
“He’s gone, Dorian.”
Leave it to the old man to ruin the mood one last time.
Six weeks had passed since the funeral, and I was as unhappy as I’ve ever been. The loss of my Grandfather hit me harder than I expected, but it was the mess he’d left behind that was ruining my life.
“Mr. Lambert?”
I hated that name now more than ever. It was mine now, and it just felt wrong. I glanced up at the young secretary standing in the doorway. She was a perky redhead perched atop a three inch pair of heels and she still barely topped five foot four. Today she’d chosen to wear a more revealing blouse than usual, dipping low between her unnaturally large breasts in an inviting way. I looked away, careful not to linger too long. She was playing the same game all of them were, and I didn’t like it.
“Yes Miss Chambers,” I replied, eager to be alone again.
“Your four thirty just cancelled.”
I spun round in my chair and pounded my hand on the desk. That was the third cancellation this week. Nobody would have cancelled on my grandfather, but these assholes knew I was only here on a temporary basis. After his death, I was forced to step in as the acting president of the company, but with my mother still in charge of the largest block of voting shares—my shares, held in trust until I could provide an heir—I couldn’t even begin to bring my father’s company back from the pit she’d driven it into.
And of course, what little power I had, she aimed to take from me. The board was ready to vote in a new CEO, and she made it clear it wasn’t going to be me. Soon I’d be back to my old life, living off monthly trust disbursements at least until the year was up and I was found single and childless… Then, I didn’t know what I’d do. I hadn’t exactly planned for all of this. I had no investments in my name. Even the mansion I lived in was just a piece of property held by the family corporation.
At least I wasn’t going to die in this chair like my grandfather did.
I glanced up at the clock and felt a cool chill roll over me.
“That will be all, Miss Chambers,” I said, closing my eyes and putting my throbbing head in my hands. There wasn’t much else to say. I could hear the click and lock of the door, and the click clack of heels moving across the marble floor.
“Mr. Lambert, you look very stressed,” she whispered, bringing herself closer. I could feel the heat radiating off her body as she pressed up against my arm. “Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked.
And there it was, Grandpa’s other gift.
I tried to press her away, but she was undeterred, her hand snaking down against my tailored Italian suit, finding itself pressing against the other part of me that was now throbbing. And why shouldn’t it be? I’d never been afraid to use my wealth to have a little fun. It’s not like those girls at my parties would be there if I was Chad from accounting. Miss Chambers was a stunningly beautiful little minx that I would have had no qualms about taking to bed just a few months ago…
She let out a little gasp of surprise as I pulled her hand from my thigh
, sharply setting it down against the curve of her hip.
“I said, that will be all, Miss Chambers.”
I watched her closely as she made her way out of the office with a hint of anger in her step, closing the big heavy wooden doors behind her. That’s how they all acted now, ever since my mother decided to leak the terms of my inheritance to the press. Everyone assumed I must be desperately seeking a wife, and the women I surrounded myself in my past life weren’t exactly shy about chasing the money.
Mother probably thought she was helping things along by making me the most eligible bachelor in the country. At any other time in my life I probably would have enjoyed this, but now it seemed to bring about a wave of dread inside me.
I knew why I was feeling this way.
I pulled out my smartphone, flipping through the contacts absentmindedly, stopping on the short and simple entry I was looking for.
Gigi.
The saying goes, you only want the things you can’t have… The man who said that wasn’t a billionaire, because there wasn’t a thing on this damn planet I couldn’t have.
But Gigi was more than just a thing…
She intrigued me right from the start. Ethical, strong willed, funny… I liked her, and not just because she stood up to me about modifying the terms of the will. My wealth didn’t seem to effect her. She was different from the other women in my life. In the short time I knew Gigi, I did all the chasing. The night of that fateful phone call, I was so damn close to having her.
Maybe that would have helped get her out of my damn head. Instead, she pretended like that night never happened. We saw each other twice during the funeral arrangements and final reading of the will, but she barely acknowledged my presence. With her job complete, she went back to her law firm without so much as a Dear Dorian letter.
“Why don’t you call me?” I asked my phone, staring at her name. None of this made sense. I was bombarded every day by email and texts and voicemails from half the women in this city, but the one I wanted wasn’t making so much as a peep.
I couldn’t just wait forever. Time was ticking. My thumb swiped across the keypad. Satisfied with the message, I hit send.
“Let’s go, Dad.”
My father walked sullenly from around the front counter of the police station, his shoulders hunched and his head down. He looked like a scolded child who was being picked up by his mother from the principal’s office.
“Sorry, Gigi,” he said, his voice rough from what I could only assume was one hell of a hangover. He looked up at me through his bushy white eyebrows and bloodshot eyes.
“I know.”
“Be sure he stays away for more than a week this time, Gigi,” the desk clerk said, though he couldn’t hide the pitying smile behind that bristly mustache. I hated their pity more than anything.
“Thanks Officer Miller,” I said, resting my hand on my father’s shoulder as the two of us headed out the door.
The bright afternoon sunlight was blinding as my father and I stepped out of the station, the sounds of the city roaring over us as we made our way down the precinct’s front steps. The street was filled with people bustling about on their lunch breaks, even a few officers loitering outside as they ordered from a greasy hotdog cart. A few of them nodded in our direction, even calling out to my father in a mock-scolding tone.
“Where’d you park, sweetie?” my father asked, squinting over at the tiny visitor lot on the side of the building. “I don’t see your car.”
“That’s because I don’t have a car, Daddy. It got towed weeks ago.”
“Towed?” he asked, his voice rising to a squawk. “What’d they take your car for?”
I thought for a moment about unloading on him, letting him know that on top of all my other troubles, I didn’t need his shit. Then I bit the inside of my cheek as I realized that would probably only make him drink more, and a couple hours after the fact, I’d feel like shit about myself. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll just walk down to the bus stop and catch the next one home.”
“Like hell I ain’t gonna worry about it,” he grumped, his bushy brows furrowed. “My little girl loses her car and she doesn’t expect her old man to worry. What kinda fool do you take me for? How long have you been hiding this?”
“It’s nothing. I’ll get it back soon... You don’t need to be worry about me, I promise,” I replied, trying to hide from the facts. The car was gone. Repossessed, and by now, certainly in the hands of its brand new owner. “Let’s go, Dad.”
My father walked sullenly from around the front counter of the police station, his shoulders hunched and his head down. He looked like a scolded child who was being picked up by his mother from the principal’s office.
“Sorry, Gigi,” he said, his voice rough from what I could only assume was one hell of a hangover. He looked up at me through his bushy white eyebrows and bloodshot eyes.
“I know.”
“Be sure he stays away for more than a week this time, Gigi,” the desk clerk said, though he couldn’t hide the pitying smile behind that bristly mustache. I hated their pity more than anything.
“Thanks Officer Miller,” I said, resting my hand on my father’s shoulder as the two of us headed out the door.
The bright afternoon sunlight was blinding as my father and I stepped out of the station, the sounds of the city roaring over us as we made our way down the precinct’s front steps. The street was filled with people bustling about on their lunch breaks, even a few officers loitering outside as they ordered from a greasy hotdog cart. A few of them nodded in our direction, even calling out to my father in a mock-scolding tone.
I thought for a moment about unloading on my father, letting him know that on top of all my other troubles, I didn’t need his shit. Then I bit the inside of my cheek as I realized that would probably only make him drink more, and a couple hours after the fact, I’d feel like shit about myself.
“You going to tell me the truth?” my father grumped, his bushy brows furrowed. “My little girl loses her car and she doesn’t expect her old man to worry, but I know damn well it didn’t just get towed. What kinda fool do you take me for?”
“It’s nothing. You don’t need to be worry about me.”
“Who else am I supposed to be worried about if I can’t worry about my little girl?” he snorted as we crossed the busy street.
“You could always start with worrying about yourself, Dad. I mean, how many times this month has it been? Four? Five?” I sighed and shook my head, hiking my purse higher up on my shoulder as we walked.
“You’re just counting the times I called you,” he muttered.
“Daddy!” I scolded, smacking him on his arm. “What would have happened if the cops didn’t find you? You could have ended up dead in a ditch!”
I let out a frustrated sigh. He just didn’t get it! How could someone be so stupid, so inconsiderate about how much their life meant to other people?
“What was it this time?”
“The hell are you talkin’ about, girl?” he huffed, doing his best to sound innocent.
“You don’t go on one of your benders without a reason—maybe not a good reason, but you always find one. So, what was it this time?”
“Got some bad news in the mail, that’s all,” he grumbled, scuffing his feet on the ground as he walked.
He was like a five-year-old. It drove me up the wall.
“Yeah? What bad news did you get this time, Daddy? Power bill too high? Didn’t win the publisher’s clearinghouse ten million dollar prize?”
“Nah, none of that,” he said, heaving a long sigh before letting it out in a soft whistle. “They’re takin’ the house.”
“What do you mean, they’re taking the house?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I turned my head to look at him. He wouldn’t meet my gaze, his eyes downcast, searching for anything else to look at but me. I could see the guilt and shame written all over him, even in the way he licked his lips—he only did that when he was searc
hing for something to say, and it never turned out to be anything good. “Tell me what happened, Dad.”
“I might’ve… forgot to pay a few months of the mortgage,” he said, giving his shoulders a noncommittal shrug as he cast his stare out along the street.
I stopped, my feet glued to the sidewalk as I stared at him. I felt like I’d been punched right in the chest, a tightness gathering right between my breasts. I couldn’t breathe for a moment.
“You lost our house?”
“I lost my house,” my father growled, his lower lip trembling. “You ain’t lived there since you went to college.”
“I still grew up there, Dad!”
“Not like it matters, anyway. Nothin’ I can do about it.”
“If you’d told me sooner…” I began, but only let out a cry of frustration.
