I would avoid him. I would.
“See, you did want a drink,” Chase teased as I brought the expensive crystal to my lips and drew a tentative sip, then another longer one. “Maybe you’ll change your mind about dinner too?”
His hopeful tone almost undid my steely resolve, but I inhaled a fortifying breath and looked away before his soulful eyes could hypnotize me. I took another sip of champagne – fruity, floral, and with a slight alcoholic bite. I had to be careful. I was a lightweight when it came to alcohol. One glass could make my head spin.
“Come on,” Chase continued. “Just a quick bite at Daniel?” He lifted his fingers to his lips and kissed them. “The caille is perfection!” He stared at me and licked his lips. “And of course, it’s my treat since I asked you to dinner.”
His impromptu invitation tempted me. Like drinking the Kool-Aid at the Jonestown massacre. And the end result might be similar. Complete and total annihilation by the cult leader of love. But suddenly, feelings of disgust and contempt overcame my rational mind. Who the hell was I, getting in some limo with some hot random and drinking champagne? Contemplating dinner at one of the city’s most expensive restaurants that required jackets? And all because some asshole felt sorry for me due to my unfortunate choice of college employment? Or that I’d managed to turn him on by doing that same job? What would he expect from a sex worker after dinner?
That wasn’t me. It was someone, maybe, but not Chastity Sexe. I wasn’t that kind of girl, the kind of girl who could be bought. I had integrity. Values. In spite of how my mother had raised me. I knew right from wrong.
The limo pulled up to a red light, and I thrust the flute of champagne at Chase, grabbing the door handle with my free hand.
“Take this,” I said sharply, shoving it into his chest as if it were laced with poison. “I have to go.”
The remaining champagne splashed out of the flute and over my fingers, but I didn’t care. The limo door pushed open to reveal the dusk of evening, and then I jumped free, refusing to be bought.
Chapter Three
Chase
“I don’t know, Nolan,” I hissed through the iPhone’s receiver like a fire breathing dragon shooting flame balls from my engorged nostrils. A fantasy monster pissed as hell. “It’s never happened to me before. What did you do when Charlie pulled this shit?”
Silence reigned supreme. “I got nothing for you, buddy. I fucked it up seven ways from Sunday with Charlie. Even if I had any, I’d tell you not to listen to my advice.”
“I want to offer her an internship,” I threw the words out there and then waited for the censure. I really had no right to offer Chastity a position at Banks without running it by Nolan. Ever since his bitchy mother, Anne, had been knocked down a peg, Grantham made it clear Nolan ruled the roost. “A paid internship.”
“I’m okay with that.”
What?
“Did I hear you correctly?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my tone. “Why aren’t you bitching at me?”
“It’s obvious you’re into this girl, Chase,” Nolan crooned. “Charlie and I both agree it’s time for you to move on with someone you actually like instead of just someone you like to fuck. There’s a distinct difference.”
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
I snorted and scrunched up my nose, choosing my next words carefully. I didn’t want to talk about her. I didn’t want her name mentioned in polite company. I didn’t want even the tiniest thought to infiltrate my calm demeanor. I’d grieved what happened and put it in the past.
“I’m well aware of the distinction.”
“Glad to hear it,” Nolan said in his superior drawl. “We can talk about it more when you get in here. You’re late, you know.”
If he’d been standing in front of me instead of sitting in his cushy leather office chair, I’d probably be hard-pressed not to throat punch his cocky ass. He’d mastered the art of being late to work due to his hard partying and hard womanizing ways. Charlie had softened him. But even I had to admit, her influence was the best thing that had ever happened to Nolan Banks.
“I know. I’ll work late tonight. I didn’t sleep at all.”
Nolan sighed. “I get it. Where did you meet Miss Chastity by the way?”
What to reveal? “She works in the Banks building at her part-time job.”
Please…oh, please, Nolan, don’t ask me which company employs her.
“Didn’t you mention she was from Brooklyn? Must be a bitch for her to travel all that way for a part-time office gig. She really reminds me of Charlie. Plucky and determined. You could do worse.”
Thank you, God.
“You don’t think it’s weird that I’m a few years older? She’s only a senior in college which makes her what, twenty-two? I’m all for robbing the cradle, but there’s a difference between stealing a pack of Doublemint and grand theft auto.”
“Jesus, Chase. You’re not even thirty. No one’s going to even look twice at the two of you unless she looks like jailbait. Does she?”
“What?”
“Look like jailbait?”
“Not even close. Now, let me off the hook and off the phone so I can get my ass into work.”
“Ciao.”
***
“Where’s Angela.”
I opened my office door and called out to the reception area where Myrna furiously tapped on her iPad. Her head snapped up at the sound of my voice.
“Do you need an intern for something, Mr. Bradenton? Anything I can help with?”
Shit.
Now I’d offended my right-hand woman without any intention of doing so. The only reason I wanted to talk to Angela was to make sure she didn’t start running off at the mouth about my strange behavior the day before. The last thing I needed was a round of stupid office gossip undermining my authority as the Director of Sales. I had a team of twelve underneath me, and we needed to get Charlie’s pet project sold out before the completion of construction.
I oiled my tone and plastered my most charming smile to my face.
“Actually, it’s such a trivial matter, Myrna, I thought it would be best suited for someone without your vast and valuable experience.”
She narrowed her eyes and paused as if she saw right through my line of bullshit. But then, she smiled and nodded. Crisis averted.
“I think Angela’s making copies for Nolan.”
I spotted her by the Xerox, brow furrowed in concentration. She shoved her horn-rimmed glasses farther up her hooked nose. Poor Angela. She’d been beaten with the plain as Jane stick. But she must be sharp, because Charlie had taken over the intern program and she only hired the best and the brightest.
Another intern stood beside her, back to me, grabbing the stapled packets off the copier. The gangly nerd’s pants were hemmed so short that a good two-inch sliver of white sock showed between his khakis and his Converse sneakers, like he’d worn them to prepare for a flood. I’d gotten within earshot when the nerdy kid spoke.
“We’re so far above this crap, Angela.”
“What do you mean? It’s an honor to get chosen to intern at Banks. It’s a sure ticket to land a good job after graduation. Grantham Banks is an NYC legend.”
“Yeah,” the kid snorted. “In his own overinflated mind. Why don’t they have us doing anything besides basic secretarial tasks? A trained monkey could copy, file, and staple.”
What an annoying little shit. Arrogant much? In Angela’s own words, the Banks internship was a golden ticket. The ungrateful scamp needed to be taught a lesson, starting right now.
“Ahem.”
I thought Angela might piss herself. The papers she held floated to the floor like leaves on a stiff, fall breeze. When she bent over to retrieve them, I waved her off.
“Let me, Angela. You see, there isn’t any work here at Banks Realty that I feel is beneath me. As an MBA from NYU, I understand the importance of knowing each level and department of this business inside and out. From the basement t
o the penthouse.”
Angela nodded so hard she looked like a homely bobblehead in the back of a ’79 Chevy wagon with wood-paneled sides.
“I agree, Mr. Bradenton.”
“Angela, I knew you were a star the moment I met you,” I said turning toward the Mark Zuckerberg wannabe. “You, on the other hand, can start planning your packing strategy. I’ll be telling Charlie exactly what I heard today.”
He turned without even a nod of acknowledgment and fled toward the break room. Probably wanted to cry in private. Who said shit like that out loud at the copier on the executive floor? Grantham delighted in stealthily checking out the inner workings of all departments like a personal audition for an episode of Undercover Boss.
“So, Angela,” I said in a tone dripping honey. “I just wanted to check in on you and make sure that Myrna wasn’t cracking the whip too hard.”
“Not at all,” she said as I handed her papers back to her. She snatched them out of my hand, and hers trembled. I watched as the white sheets fluttered underneath her nervous energy. “I’ve learned a lot. Everyone is so nice here.”
“Everyone?” I asked with a wink. “Even me?”
She nodded. “Especially the sales team.”
Praise the Lord.
“Excellent. Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Just let Myrna know if you need anything. Anything at all.”
I walked back to the sanctuary of my office, grateful that at least one catastrophe had been avoided. Now, Chastity and her fleeing the scene of a potential special connection, that challenge still flittered just out of my reach.
Chapter Four
Chastity
By the time I got home, I felt better but still shell-shocked. I hadn’t had an in-person interlude with a man in months. Just work and over the phone lines. It took over two hours – Chase hadn’t been lying about the train delays – and the fog shook from my head as I approached my rundown building in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. Trina and I had lived there together for going on three years. We’d been matched together by the college as freshmen, and although we didn’t have very much in common, we’d really hit it off with each other. Trina was my rock.
“Girl,” Trina said as soon as I let myself in the door. “Where the hell have you been?” She rolled her almond-shaped eyes. “I thought I was gonna have to send out a search and rescue.”
I frowned. What would have happened if I had gone with Chase? Well, for starters, it would have been so unlike me that my roomie would have called the cops. That alone was enough to tell me that I’d made the right decision to blow him off. It’s not like I was ever going to see him again, anyway. The Banks building housed multiple businesses and floors. Most of the time, I didn’t even see anyone outside my cubicle buddies.
“The MTA sucked ass today,” I said, wrinkling my nose and throwing my tote bag down on our IKEA futon.
Trina had Real Housewives of New York City blaring on the TV, and I watched for a few seconds, infuriatingly captivated by Luann de Lesseps as she tore Bethenny Frankel a new one. I liked Bethenny. She was tough and real just like me. She’d clawed and scratched her way up and came out on top. A mogul. I could do the same. It killed me to admit it, but I envied her material possessions. Not because of what she had but how she didn’t have to struggle anymore. And I envied people like Chase. The beautiful people, the gifted people, the people with enough money to buy a damn yacht for a stocking stuffer.
“Oh, yeah?” Trina raised her eyebrows and hopped on the couch next to me. Over time, I’d gotten used to her stunning exterior. With a mother from Japan and a father from Kenya, Trina turned heads no matter where she went. Her skin glowed with a faint golden hue, and her shiny hair looked incredible even with our cheap two-dollar shampoo. “How was work? Same old?”
“Mostly,” I said. Trouble, my cat, jumped onto the futon and butted me with her head. Sighing, I scooped her up into my arms. “This guy called – it was a mistake. Actually, he was looking for his stupid limo driver – and we had a talk.” My mind drifted back to Chase. “I think I turned him on before he hung up on me.”
Trina threw her head back and laughed. “Girl, you gotta get a better job,” she said. “So, he works in your building? Is he cute?”
I bit my lip, uncertain of what I wanted to say and how much I should reveal. Trina possessed an uncanny ability to read between the lines, and I didn’t want to suffer her teasing for days on end. She knew my current love-life loomed desolate for months past and months in the future.
“Unfortunately, he looks like Adonis,” I said, selecting each word with care. “I actually saw him in the elevator after work. We just randomly met after a pretty racy conversation.”
“And?”
I swallowed. Just thinking about Chase again caused tingles to erupt over every inch of my hot and itchy skin, like I needed to take a bath to wash away his memory. Mmm, yeah, a bath with Chase in a tub built for two. Wincing, I turned back to Trina.
“And he gave me a ride home.”
She shook her head in confusion. “Thought you said the MTA sucked tonight? You can’t be in a car and on the subway at the same time, sistah.”
“It was,” I clarified quickly. “I, uh, I jumped out of the limo early.”
Trina gaped and flung her expressive hands through the air like she was on the tarmac waving in a plane. “He really had a limo? Are you serious?”
I nodded, my face a neutral mask. “It was like a damn high school prom,” I said. “The only thing missing was his white tux and my sparkly taffeta dress.”
Trina burst out laughing and after a second, I joined in. I couldn’t help it – this was too much. When I really sat and thought about it, bad reality TV could center around what had happened today just like on the show that blared in the background.
“Can I have his number?” Trina looked at me, eyes wide and searching. “Girl needs a new pair of shoes.”
I rolled my eyes and threw a pillow at her. Trouble jumped out of my lap, meowed, and then skittered into the kitchen. I groaned when I heard her in the litter box a few seconds later, spraying litter all over the floor.
Trina wrinkled her nose. “That cat is cute, but damn, she stinks.”
“I know,” I groaned. “I’m sorry. I wish we could find a better place, but Brooklyn is so expensive.”
Trina nodded. She stood up from the couch and stretched. Her shirt rose an inch or two, showing her perfectly flat tummy. I had a pooch there no matter how many crunches I suffered through. “You want a beer? I’m thinking tonight’s gonna be a night where we need some.”
“Yeah,” I told her. “Sounds good.”
I grabbed my tote bag and spread out my homework all over the wooden spool that we used as a coffee table. It was only the beginning of the semester, but I could tell that a truckload would get thrown at me. I was in all honors classes, trying to graduate summa cum laude and the homework kicked my ass daily.
This one class in particular, Advanced Behavioral Psych, really gave me problems. The professor, a total asshole, had a reputation for only giving one ‘A’ per semester, no matter how good the students were. Some bullshit bell curve that made me want to spit tacks. I’d really had to work my ass off to get into Hunter with scholarships, and I didn’t need any douchebag professor ruining my chances for second-semester funding.
To make matters worse, my mind raced like California Chrome running for the wire. Every time I closed my eyes, Chase’s face lurked there, as if he’d somehow injected my brain with a serum that made me think of nothing but sex. Sex with him. Usually, after work, I didn’t want anything to do with sex – fantasy or reality. Lots of old men gushing about how they’d like to cream themselves with a pair of my dirty panties was enough for me to feel totally G-rated for the rest of the day.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation we’d had earlier. My cheeks turned red as I thought of how I’d pitched my voice low, talked about touching myself in front of Chase. Naturally, I never
thought he would be so sexy in person. But now, my mind kept dragging me back to that explicit, raunchy world of naughty talk.
What would sex with Chase be like? Would he be like one of those rich jerkwads I’d seen on TV who pumped and dumped? Or looked at himself in the mirror, à la Patrick Bateman in American Psycho? Or would he expect really kinky shit because he was so used to sleeping with women that regular sex bored him?
I wrinkled my nose as the words in front of me turned into a mess of ink on paper.
Stop thinking about him, Chastity. Thinking about him won’t make this any better. You’re never going to see him again. And furthermore, you’re too different. He probably pisses champagne and shits diamonds in a marble toilet imported from Rome.
“He’s under your skin,” Trina said. She sat down next to me with a huff and handed me a cold can of beer. “I can see it plain as day. You can’t stop thinking about him. You told me not to let anything veer you off course from your ultimate goal. This is me. Telling you. Sweep Hottie McFilthyRich out of your mind.”
“Well, he was hot,” I snapped. “Of course I noticed. Any red-blooded woman would. But I know better than to get involved with someone who’s that far above me in the NYC social scene.”
“Are we even involved in the NYC social scene?” Trina chuckled as she opened her laptop. “What was his name?”
“Chase Bradenton,” I replied.
I could still hear his annoyed, arrogant tone in my head: This is Chase Bradenton, from Banks Realty. I need my driver!
“You weren’t kidding,” Trina said. She mimed fanning herself and spun the laptop around on her lap. “He’s a fox. Those eyes.” She shivered and then soothed the gooseflesh with her elegant fingers. “I feel like he can see right through to my soul.”
I blinked. The picture she’d pulled up wasn’t a professional one but from some kind of fancy event. Chase wore a tuxedo, with a beautiful blonde who looked like a Playboy bunny on his arm. He grinned at whoever snapped the photograph, his mouth opened like he’d been in the middle of saying something, holding a glass of champagne in his free hand almost the same color as his tanned skin.
Hook Page 3
