Mogul

by Katy Evans

  She swallows and avoids making eye contact as Christos points at a couple of boxes. “Over by the windows. But you don’t have to move them. I can open them here and put the clothing on the racks,” she rushes on.

  Ignoring her protests, Christos scoops one up like a pro and carries it across the room. He returns and reaches for Bryn’s cutting knife and starts opening boxes for her.

  I’m shocked. He’s a businessman, and businessmen don’t do these things. But something about him doing filthy labor makes me realize he wasn’t always a businessman.

  Soon, a dozen men under Christos’s command arrive to open boxes. The racks start filling up across the warehouse. We finish hanging the merchandise in a few hours rather than the expected full day.

  “I suppose we’ll have time for the salon tomorrow night after all,” I’m happy to report to Bryn. But she’s hardly paying attention or worrying about my cracked nail and desire for a pedicure and manicure. She’s watching Christos.

  “Thanks for helping,” she tells him.

  He winks down at her. “Still a hell of a box lugger.”

  She smiles in farewell, and I can feel the air crackle between them. I step back and grab Jensen so we can all leave. After Bryn steps out, I pull Jensen toward the door, giving Christos a black don’t-you-dare-play-with-my-friend-again look.

  Bastard.

  I’m so mad that I fume for the rest of the day, wondering why the asshole keeps looking at her like he cares when he clearly doesn’t care that he’s broken her heart.

  I think about my own possible future heartbreak when I hit the salon with Becka and Bryn the next evening. I try to push Ian Sexy Suit Ford out of my mind, but he’s always lingering somewhere in my thoughts. Even as I chat on the phone with another dog walker and send her over on a test walk to see if she works well with Milly.

  Now we’re in Brooklyn for the launch. Becka, Jensen, and I run all over the warehouse, helping people with their orders and talking up the use of fabrics, the simple designs, and the custom features on the app. We’re working it for our girl Bryn, and I know she appreciates us being here.

  As I busily tend to the customers, I notice through the crowd that Christos stands with his girlfriend beside him. The woman has her hand on his back, but he doesn’t have his hand on hers. Interesting.

  I feel flushed when a thought of dating Ian publicly hits me. What would that be like? Instead of dwelling on the topic, I seek out another customer to distract myself.

  “I saw these when they were just drawings. I can touch them now,” Becka whispers in amazement as she comes up to my side.

  “Better yet, you can wear them.” I wink.

  We share a grin, my chest swelling with pride for Bryn. She created her vision from scratch, using determination and hard work. Her success encourages me to chase after my dream.

  And what about your sexy Workaholic, Sara? What are you going to do about that?

  Shut up, slut. You just want more of that D, I grumble to myself.

  “Sara,” Jensen says, motioning to a jumpsuit that is starting to fall from its display.

  “I’ll get it.” I look around. I can’t find Bryn anywhere, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here to help and I’m glad that I know exactly what my job is tonight. To be sure nobody leaves without placing an order. Or a thousand.

  “Bryn stepped out with Christos,” Becka says.

  I glance at the doors—but though Bryn and Christos are outside, business keeps going at a fast rate.

  I even end up ordering myself an outfit. Workaholic will love this! I think as I go for something sexy that won’t break my bank, a tiny gold sequin dress that will show off my long, toned legs.

  I don’t know what I will wear it for, or when, but I know it’s for stupid sexy him.

  It’s a little formal but a lot hot. I fantasize about wearing it for Ian on a night in. I could pad around barefoot in this in his hot-ass townhome. Pantyless and ready to get nailed.

  Sara, really, you don’t even know if you’ll say yes to dating!

  Or do I?

  Ugh. I hate to think that both Ian and I already know my answer.

  Hours later, Bryn is still nowhere to be seen. I spot Christos across the room, checking on everyone and making sure the iPads are working. His girlfriend is by the door with his brother and she seems to have been crying.

  I march up to him and ask, “Where’s Bryn?”

  “She needed to be alone. I’m staying until the guests leave.”

  I purse my lips and shoot him another dark look, then spin around and stomp away. I want to punch him for hurting Bryn, but I slow my steps and consider the expression on his face. He looked, and sounded, miserable. For the first time, I suspect he’s as messed up about things as she is.

  I text Bryn to give her an update. For her to leave the way she did, something must have gone really wrong. I ask her if she’s okay.

  I’m okay, she texts back.

  I know she’s not.

  But this isn’t the moment to discuss it. We can do that later. Right now I want things to run smoothly.

  Becka is on her fourth glass of champagne, and she’s acting as bubbly as the alcohol she’s imbibing. “He loves her. Why is he marrying that bimbo?” She signals to Miranda, who looks restless as she leaves with Christos’s brother.

  “I don’t know. Responsibility, I guess.”

  She shrugs and lets out a small hiccup.

  I decide I’m going to have to carry both of our weight the rest of the evening and leave her to get back to work.

  When the last guest leaves and Jensen bids us good night, Christos closes shop. “Do you want a ride?” he asks us.

  We both shake our heads. “No, thanks, and we don’t want you near Bryn, either.” I smile acidly and walk away, aware of him laughing sardonically, almost sounding frustrated, behind us.

  We’re not yet around the curb when we see him hop into a black car. “Where’s he going in such a rush?” Becka asks.

  “I don’t know.” I sigh.

  “I can’t feel my toes. I’m exhausted.”

  “You’re drunk, momma,” I tell her fondly, and she giggles.

  I groan and tell her how much I want a nice, hot bath when we get home as I drag her to the train. Thinking of baths makes me think of Ian, and I let myself fantasize about taking a bath with him someday. I begin to ache.

  The look Christos had when he mentioned Bryn pops back in my head, and suddenly I’m aching in places other than between my legs.

  Why does that look make me think of Ian?

  Why do I see him in every man, even when I’m out in the streets? As if there’s only one guy in the world and parts of him are walking around all over the place. But only one man has all those Ian Ford parts, and that’s Ian Ford himself.

  Sigh.

  I like him. He was such a gentleman when I got drunk at his place. He spooned me and warmed me with his body. He’d been really hard—I felt it even through my drunkenness—but he never left my side and never overstepped. He’s a little alpha, but damn it, doesn’t that hit all my buttons too?

  He sparks my sparks, all of them. Damn him.

  When we reach our apartment, I open the door, kick off my heels, and stare around in confusion along with Becka.

  “Where’s Bryn?” we both ask the empty apartment.

  As if in response to our question, my phone rings. “I’m with Christos,” Bryn says. “I didn’t want you two to worry. Thanks for staying until the end. It was a long… crazy night.”

  “We were happy to do it. But are you all right?” I ask.

  “We’re back together.” She sounds like she’s been crying, but I can hear the happiness in her voice.

  I almost stumble back from the unexpectedness of it. Becka stops massaging her feet and blinks at me when she notices the expression on my face.

  “Bryn, I’m so happy for you!” I burst out.

  “Tell Becka. I’ll stop by a little later to pick up some s
tuff, but if I don’t see you then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “She’s back with Christos,” I inform Becka when I hang up.

  Becka’s eyes go wide and we celebrate by diving into chocolates.

  After a piece too many, I push them away. “Okay, no more chocolates. I want my Dirty Workaholic to still get hard when he looks at me.”

  I toss the wrappings aside and curl up on the couch while Becka hops onto Bryn’s Match.com account.

  “Does this mean I should delete this thing?”

  I shrug. “I don’t think a guy like Christos will want his girlfriend’s profile up on a dating site.”

  Becka laughs as she clicks the few buttons to cancel Bryn’s account. “All right, that’s done. I’m going to sleep now. Good night,” she says, and she heads to bed while I remain restless on the couch.

  After several minutes of tossing and turning, I pull myself up and drag myself to bed too. I lie down under the covers and close my eyes, but guess whose dark, fathomless eyes I see when I close mine.

  Guess who causes my body to tingle, remembering his touch.

  Guess who still—even now that I know his name and a whole lot more about him—makes me want him more and more.

  I type out a text:

  What are you doing? Do you still want to see me?

  I pause and reread my message, biting my lower lip.

  Shaking my head, I erase my text, power off my phone, and connect it to my charger. It was a crazy night. I need my head on straight before I get carried away like I usually do with my Dirty Workaholic.

  Sara

  I tossed and turned all night. Now it’s very early for me to be up on a Saturday, and I peer through my eyelids, watching the sunlight pouring in through my blinds. I squeeze my eyes shut and flip to my other side. Thinking of Ian and wanting to kiss his gorgeous lips again. Of course my Hot Workaholic merits a full day of lying in bed dreaming about him. Wondering if he meant everything he said. If he’s as obsessed with our connection as I am. If maybe we can one day have something that’s more than casual.

  I promised him I’d think about it.

  I have done nothing but think about it.

  And I think my decision will come as no surprise.

  I push myself out of the bed and pad into the kitchen, surprised to find Becka all packed and ready to go.

  “You’re leaving? You just got here!” I say.

  “I know, but…” She rubs her temples with her fingertips. “I need to have an adventure. I need to go out there and experience the city or I’ll never find what I need in order to finish this book.” She sighs as Bryn walks in.

  We both gape at her.

  “When did you get here?” I ask.

  “A little while ago. I’ve got news. Coffee first.”

  We have coffee and breakfast while Bryn tells us what happened last night, where Christos caught up with her, what he told her, and her eyes glaze with love and happiness as she relates the details to us. When she finishes and we hug her, she asks what we’ve been up to. While Becka groans about flying back home while hungover, I’m unnaturally silent. I don’t want to tell Bryn what’s been happening with Ian. I feel like she’ll be my voice of conscience, and I don’t need that right now. She’ll worry about his situation and me getting hurt, and I’m already doing that for the both of us.

  After breakfast and while Bryn checks all the House of Sass orders on her computer, I head to my phone and scan my contacts. I just can’t help that my stomach jumps when I read his name. I stare at it with a pounding heart. Fucking Ian Ford. My greedy pussy even ripples at the sight of his name! Ugh. I exhale and send out a rather long, detailed text. I’m such a horny little slut.

  I reread what I sent and nod. Yep. A slut. Though I’m not too sad about it and I’m pretty sure Ford might even approve of it. I hurry to change, already anticipating his answer.

  I want your dick in my mouth. I ALSO want it in my hands. But first I want you inside me.

  Ian Ford: I’m open for business.

  He sends me his office address in Tribeca.

  Half an hour later, I’m entering a building made of all glass and a lobby made of all marble. I ask for him at reception and am indicated he’s on the thirtieth floor. At the elevator, I realize it’s the top floor. I smooth my hands down my cashmere sweater dress. I’m wearing heels and no bra and all the confidence of a woman determined to seduce a man.

  I let out a deep exhale when the elevator stops and opens and begin walking down the executive floor. I realize, rather shockingly, that his office is the one at the end. The one with the big frosted-glass door.

  “Um. I’m here to see Ian.” I approach the woman behind a large Carrara marble desk. “Mr. Ford, I mean.”

  “He’s expecting you.” She rings me in and stands to show the way to his door. When she pushes it open, I slide nervously inside. My heart drums wildly as our eyes meet.

  He’s behind a desk, with a huge Mac computer on one side and a whole lot of papers on the other. His office is gargantuan, comprised of all glass walls except for the one behind his desk.

  “Nice office.” I walk toward him as I seductively tug on a strand of loose dark hair.

  “Nice… shoes.” His eyes rake up and down my legs.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet. My roomie is a designer, after all. I plan to be a good customer and promote her work.”

  As I get all kinds of crazy feelings looking at him, I remind myself I’ll do my best not to give him my heart, just my body.

  Dating casually. That’s what this will be. He has lit my fire and no one can quench it but him.

  “Did you think about our last conversation?”

  I nod as he comes around his desk. “I came, didn’t I?”

  “And you’re coming again.”

  I nod and press up against him. Ian fists my hair and holds me inches away from his mouth, staring at my face with those dark eyes. My breathing hitches as he turns my face sideways and lands a kiss on the side of my neck.

  I exhale, trembling already.

  “Miss me?” I reach out to stroke his cock against his zipper and love how hard he is. He groans and pulls my face back.

  “I’m sure that speaks for itself.”

  I want his dick so much my mouth salivates. I want to pull it out and lick it, suck it, but I can’t ignore the heat between my legs. Ian seems to read my mind.

  He pushes me against the wall and pulls up my dress, pulls down my panties, and I thrust out my butt, squirming restlessly as he undoes his belt. “Hurry!” I call past my shoulder.

  I get a glimpse of him—dressed in his slacks and white shirt, with that gorgeous, lean, athletic body and that larger-than-life bulge behind his zipper—and I’m that convinced if he doesn’t give it to me now, hard and fast, I’m going to implode from wanting.

  His eyes meet mine as his fingers work open his slacks, and I’m perspiring as those inky eyes hold mine for a long moment. Then, as he notices my restlessness, his lips begin to curve in delight.

  “You’re fucking gorgeous, you eager girl,” he says. He steps closer and I face forward again and thrust my butt out in invitation.

  “Ahh. Dancer.” His voice is near the back of my ear, the words warm on my skin as he grabs me by the hips and presses his nine-inch organ of pleasure against me. His fingers dig into my hip bones as he rubs his cock up and down the fissure of my ass. And then into my pussy.

  I groan and flatten my hands on the wall.

  He groans too. “God, you’re so good.”

  “Give it to me hard, Ian. Just… give me everything.”

  “I never hold back,” he growls in my ear. “Not with you.”

  He thrusts, and I moan, and he clamps a hand on my mouth, whispering, “Keep these sounds just for me, hmm?”

  “Mmm,” is my answer. I lick his palm, groaning when he slips his other hand around me and between my thighs. He starts caressing me. And my moans turn to whimpers. He flips me around and
kicks his chair aside, then lays me on his desk, looking down at me, his forehead tight with passion as he slowly… ever so slowly… excruciatingly slowly… drives back into me.

  We hold gazes, unable to find words, as we race to the edge together.

  I arch my back and bite back my cry as my orgasm hits. It’s cataclysmic, overwhelming, shaking me so hard I think I’ll snap. Ian slides his arms beneath me to keep me from getting bruised by his desk, but he never slows his thrusts.

  We take a moment to catch our breaths before he helps me up. He straightens his slacks while I straighten my hair and dress.

  “Did you check on the casting call I told you about?” he asks.

  “I missed the audition with so much work last week. I called and they’ve filled the slots.”

  “Shame. Something else will come up.”

  I nod hopefully, grateful for his encouragement, and reach for the heel that fell off my foot during sex.

  “Allow me.” His mouth curves into a dark little smile and he boosts me up, sitting me on his desk. He bends to pick up my shoe, but before slipping it on, he lifts my leg and places a kiss on the arch of my foot.

  He sets me back down. I’m breathless. Already wanting more.

  “Dinner tonight.”

  “Dinner,” I agree. “You’re such a busy workaholic, you make your people come in even on the weekend?” I tease.

  “Why wait until Monday when we can get it done today?” He winks.

  I head out, aware of Ian taking his seat behind the desk and watching me leave. I smile in the elevator.

  We’re going to date cautiously. I’ll do my best not to put my whole heart into it. To not overthink this, just enjoy it while he cleans up his mess. Have fun with him while it lasts. He is so hot, I cannot deny myself this opportunity.

  I’m stepping out of the elevator when I get his text.

  9 pm @ Daniel

  I can’t believe my luck when I get home to find a box from House of Sass waiting for me. We have great service, what can I say? I hurry upstairs to find Bryn isn’t in and Becka’s suitcases are gone. Since I’m alone, I take a long lavender shower. I shave and oil my legs and mist my skin with a light, sweet scent. Then I slide into my slinky gold dress and a pair of heels, and I blow-dry my hair.