A few minutes before eight, I punched a message into my phone: That whole if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again doesn’t work with me. As I hit send, I imagined Daniel’s expression when he read it and allowed myself a smile.
I’d just slid into my heels and was heading for the door when his reply came: That’s where your opinion and mine differ.
Cocky, cocky, cocky bastard. If he wasn’t an Errand, I would never, in this life or the next, let him near me.
However, it was an Errand, so I needed to shelve all of my personal thoughts and feelings on him. An Eve didn’t successfully close an Errand unless she checked personal at the door when she was working. And she didn’t stay in the business for long if she didn’t repress personal a good portion of the time when she wasn’t on the job.
Once I’d made my way through the foyer, I found a black Bentley waiting for me outside. A driver waited with the back door open.
“I suppose you’re waiting for me?” I said as I approached.
“I was told I’d be picking up a beautiful woman in a red dress,” the driver replied, “but I’m sure Mr. Silva won’t complain if I’ve got the wrong woman.”
I gave him a smile as I slid inside of the car. “I’m sure he wouldn’t.”
Before the driver closed the door, he paused. “So, which one are you? The right or the wrong woman?”
I looked him in the eyes and answered, “Both.”
“Sounds like Mr. Silva’s a lucky man,” he added with a laugh before closing the door.
In fact, Mr. Silva’s luck was about to run out.
Not even ten minutes later, we pulled up to a familiar place. The line winding around the side wasn’t as long as it had been on Friday night, but still, The Pleasure Room was busy.
I couldn’t believe the son of a bitch had brought me there for a dinner date. He’d probably screwed a girl over every accommodating surface. I wasn’t happy.
But tonight wasn’t about being happy. It was about driving him mad so when I gave him the time and place of his forthcoming demise, he’d shake his head and wag his tail. Tonight wasn’t about keeping him at arm’s length anymore—tonight was about bringing him closer.
By the time the driver came around to open the door, I’d recomposed my face, adjusted my dress, and was ready to saunter into that place as though I might have wanted to be somewhere else, but not with anybody else.
The driver inclined his head at one of the giants hovering in front of the Pleasure Room’s entrance. “Dimitri over there will take you to Mr. Silva.”
“Thank you for the ride,” I said.
“Glad I found the right-wrong woman,” was his reply before climbing back into the driver’s seat.
Dimitri had the rope open for me as I approached and gave me a professional nod of acknowledgement. From the way he’d barely looked at me, I guessed Daniel had threatened to cut off his dick if Dimitri made a pass at me.
He said, just as professionally, “Right this way.”
“Lucky me,” I said with a fake smile as I followed.
The Pleasure Room was just as busy as it had been this past weekend. Most of the bodies were congregated around the stage. One dancer in particular caught my attention. She was similar in appearance to myself, except her face looked foreign. Eastern European? Russian? Every girl up on that stage was gorgeous, but the way she moved, the way she danced made her the only one anyone noticed. She wasn’t just a dancer; she was a performer. A quick scan of the crowd revealed I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t seem to look away. In the most heterosexual way, I was enamored by her.
She would have made one hell of an Eve.
“Who is that?” I hollered at Dimitri, who was parting the sea of people in front of us.
“Natasha,” he said over his shoulder. He glanced up at the stage right as she started playing with the snap of her garter. He smiled while the rest of the crowd cheered their heads off. “She’s something else, right?”
“She sure is,” I agreed. That woman didn’t just have everyone eating out of her hand. If she’d ordered them to jump off of a cliff, I didn’t doubt a good number of them would. She was that hypnotic.
After we wove our way through the crowd, Dimitri shoved open a door to a staircase.
“No elevator?” I said, being difficult with him because I couldn’t with Daniel.
“Not where we’re going,” Dimitri answered, motioning me up the staircase.
I almost wished I had let Mrs. Silva know tonight was the night and to have her Contact ready to go. I was getting dangerously close to being done in on Daniel’s particular brand of bull shit.
My heels clacked up a few flights of the metal staircase. I glanced back to see if Dimitri was following, and sure enough, he was. As a testament to what a devoted employee Dimitri was, his eyes weren’t locked on my ass as it swayed up the stairs. It was a good thing Dimitri wasn’t the Errand, or I’d have had my work cut out for me.
Finally, the stairs ran out, and Dimitri stepped in front of me to shove open a heavy metal door. Where in the hell was I being taken? Romance had flown out the window a few flights ago. Once Dimitri moved to the side, I saw where I was: the roof. Several strings of white paper lanterns hung above us, and toward the edge of the roof sat a small table adorned with candles and flowers. The view was unparalleled. Nothing but the ocean as far as the eye could see, colored by the pinks and oranges of the sunset. The whole scene was romantic in a way I hadn’t expected.
And then a body stepped into my line of sight.
Romance wasn’t the job. Doing whatever it took to succeed was the job.
“Sir,” Dimitri said formally, bowing his head.
“Thank you, Dimitri,” Daniel said, “You can leave us alone. And if you hear a lot of shrieking and screaming later on, you can ignore it.”
I made myself smile at him. I made myself flush with excitement. I made myself shut off my instincts and remember my training. In those moments, when I had to shut almost all of myself off, I always felt more machine than human.
After Dimitri had closed the door, I approached Daniel slowly. He was dressed to impress, and the man could certainly fill out a tuxedo. If he could keep his mouth shut, I might have found him attractive, but keeping his mouth shut, kind of like keeping his dick behind his zipper, wasn’t his forte.
“I’m not sure whether to be incredibly angry or incredibly turned on that you’re not wearing the dress I got you.” His dark eyes gleamed as I moved closer. I hadn’t chosen to wear the one he’d gotten me, but the black, beaded dress barely long enough to cover the bottom of my butt-cheeks wasn’t a poor substitute. The twisted smile on his face confirmed that.
I knew what I needed to do. I knew I was at the point in the job where I stopped keeping him at arm’s length and drew him in, but I found what I needed to do more difficult right then.
Difficult or not, I would do it. I didn’t have a choice.
I continued forward until I was right in front of him. From the change in his expression, my proximity surprised him. Exactly what I needed. Play hard to get, keep them on their toes, then you’ve got them. It was a formula that worked for every man, everywhere.
Before he had a chance to say anything, I wrapped both arms around his neck, combed my fingers through his hair, and pressed my body against his. The moment still hadn’t caught up with him, but it never took them long to catch up. When I crushed my mouth to his, he actually groaned. His arms wound around me until his hands grabbed any part of my hip or butt he could get a hold of.
I always removed myself from my body during physical encounters. It was the only way to preserve whatever sense of self I still had. It felt as if I was watching what was taking place, not actually experiencing it. Somehow, that made it easier.
When my tongue played with the opening of his mouth, his arms tightened around me, and he let out a low growl. I felt his length grow against my body, and that was my cue to back off. Tonight wasn’t the night. Ton
ight was, appropriate given the location, the tease. It was a reminder of just how badly he wanted me. If a serious hard-on wasn’t a reminder of what my body did to his, I would be unemployed in the morning.
Sucking his lower lip into my mouth—any kind of sucking drove most men up the wall—I slowly pulled back, releasing his lip and lowering my arms.
He was breathing heavily, his pupils were dilated, and from his expression, I didn’t doubt he was seriously considering tossing everything off of the table before throwing me onto it.
“What in the hell was that?” Daniel asked as I moved toward the chairs at the table.
“That was a Hey, how are you doing? without using words,” I answered, adjusting my dress where he’d rumpled it. I shot him a coy smile before sitting. “You like?”
Daniel lifted his eyebrows. “I like.” He smoothed his hands down his tux, his breathing back to normal, before taking the seat across from me. “Is it too early in the date to ask when I get to experience the Hey, how are you doing? fuck?”
Charming to a flaw. Not.
“I’ll save you the suspense and tell you now that you are not getting any kind of laid, screwed, or fucked tonight,” I said, leaning forward in my seat. “Now that that’s out of the way, can we have dinner?”
“You’re going to kiss me like that without so much as a Hello first, and then proceed to tell me we’re not going to end up horizontal between the sheets tonight?” He sounded almost amused.
I lifted my eyebrows in answer.
“Cruel.”
The door I’d just come through opened again, and a white-coated waiter approached.
“You really went all out tonight,” I said. “Were you hoping to impress me or something?”
Daniel smiled into the night. “Or something,” he said, “but since you’ve made it quite clear I’m not getting any tonight, I suppose I’ll have to settle for impressing you.” He leaned across the table. The candlelight cast stark shadows and highlights over his angular face. “So? Are you impressed?”
Two steps forward. One back. That was the theme of the tease. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know later.”
Daniel exhaled, then glanced up at the silent waiter. “Bring Sienna a bottle of the Petrus.”
“Actually, I’ll take the Chateau Margaux,” I said. “And I’ll have a glass.”
Daniel gave me a sheepish smirk. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Oldest trick in the book. And the most tired one as well.”
“Thank you for the education,” Daniel said before addressing the waiter. “I’ll take a double scotch on the rocks.”
Double scotch on the rocks. I could have called that from the moment I saw Daniel. If any man fit the double-scotch-on-the-rocks profile, he did. A man’s drink of choice said a lot about him. It wasn’t always accurate to the letter, but it gave an overall assessment. Double scotch on the rocks meant a man knew what he wanted, was used to getting it, and liked the finer things in life. He didn’t hear the word no often, and when he did, he almost always turned it into a yes. I’d had my fair share of double-scotch-on-the-rocks Targets.
After the waiter left, I felt Daniel’s eyes on me in that way again. In that predatory, stalking cat kind of way. If I hadn’t been trained to the nines, that look would have made me squirm in my chair.
“So. The Pleasure Room,” I said. “What got you into the pleasure business?”
Daniel shook his head once. “No. I don’t want to talk about my backstory. Or yours.”
Not a big surprise, but he was the first Target I’d had who put it out there like that.
“Why? Got your fair share of secrets and skeletons in the closet?” Of course he did. I already knew every last one of them.
“No one’s gotten anywhere in life by dwelling on their past,” he answered. “I certainly didn’t get where I am by wallowing in the highs and lows of mine.”
“So what? Do you want me to talk about my future? My goals? Dreams? Ambitions?” I said with a hint of sarcasm.
“No.” Daniel gave his head another shake. “The future is for my investors and advisors. I want to talk about right now.” His eyes slid down my neck, taking their time on my breasts, before making the return journey. “I want to know what you want and how you want it.”
I sucked in a breath. “And why do you want to know that?”
One side of Daniel’s mouth curved up. “So I can give it to you.”
He didn’t even attempt to disguise his meaning.
The door whooshed open again as the waiter returned. Daniel’s gaze didn’t shift when the waiter placed our drinks in front of us. They didn’t waver until long after the waiter had exited again. I didn’t doubt that that kind of intensity had broken through plenty of women’s defenses, but it wouldn’t break through mine. Nothing he could send my way would break down my defenses.
“To the present,” he said at last, lifting his glass toward me.
I raised my glass and tilted my head. “To getting what you want.”
“How you want it,” he added, before clinking his glass to mine.
We both took a long sip of our drinks. I knew how marvelous the wine was, I’d had it plenty of times before when I’d felt quite certain it alone could make me orgasm, but I barely tasted it. My mind needed to stay sharp, my body just as sharp. I couldn’t let the wine mess with me.
“Why are you here right now?” he asked suddenly.
I swept my eyes around. “The view’s hard to beat. And you look good in a tux.”
“I know I’m not your first older man,” he said, taking another sip of his scotch. He was right about that. “Unless you’ve been playing with the trust-fund Hampton boys, no girl your age knows what Chateau Marguex is unless she’s been with her fair share of older, wealthy men.”
I lifted a shoulder. “Those rich little Hampton boys only drink appletinis anyway.”
“Why are you drawn to the older man then?” Daniel asked. as the waiter made his appearance again, setting a couple of wedge salads in front of us.
I met his stare. “Experience. And if they’re single and older, that means they’re not looking for commitment—which holds no interest for me—and they have fewer inhibitions.”
“Fewer inhibitions in the bedroom?”
I shook my head before taking another sip of wine. “Fewer inhibitions in every room.”
Daniel wet his lips as his expression darkened with desire. Rising from his seat, he approached me. His eyes never left mine until he rounded my chair. “Fewer inhibitions on rooftops, too,” he said just outside my ear as his hands dropped to my shoulders. Daniel’s hands were large, and even in that intimate touch, I knew he wanted me to feel the strength in them. He wanted me to feel his physical superiority. He wanted me to feel just enough helpless.
That might have worked if I hadn’t put the whole series of events into motion in the first place. He was only there, touching me, because I’d orchestrated it.
His hands roamed down, thumbs skimming my collar bones, before they slid under my dress. I kept my breathing regular, I didn’t shift in my seat, and I tilted my head back so he could see my feigned expression of pleasure.
“I knew they were real,” he said, his voice rough. With his hands completely jammed inside of my dress, he took both of my breasts in full handfuls before squeezing in a way that wasn’t exactly gentle.
I removed myself a little bit more from my body and forced a soft moan to fall from my lips.
“I can’t remember the last time I had my hands on a real set of tits.” His thumb and finger captured my nipples and rolled them so forcefully I almost faltered with my expression of ecstasy. Daniel liked it rough. I could tailor my final seduction the next night accordingly. “Oh, the fun I’m going to have with you tonight,” he groaned.
When he shifted closer, I felt his erection hard against my shoulder. I guessed what he was hoping for next, but he could hope his way into a coma. He wasn’t getting
anything more from me tonight.
“Oh, the fun you can have with me tomorrow night.” I bit my lip to keep from wincing when he flicked my nipple.
“That, too,” he said, lowering his mouth to my neck.
I shook my head. “As in only tomorrow night.” His mouth sucked at my neck as if he was trying to consume me. That would definitely leave some hickeys. Probably all part of his sick, staking-a-claim M.O. “I don’t want to be fucked on the roof of the building where you work. My high school boyfriend tried that, and it didn’t turn out so well for him.”
Daniel’s mouth and hands slowed, but they didn’t stop. Teenage Daniel hadn’t taken no for an answer, and he’d evolved into a man who still hadn’t learned the concept.
“Tell you what,” I said, winding my arm around his neck. “You rent me the South Beach Suite at The Presidential tomorrow night and have a bottle of Cristal on ice, and I promise to make you feel so good, you’ll be ruined for all other women.” I was quiet after that, hoping he’d chase the carrot and give my sore nipples and neck a break. Employing physical force to get the Target to stop was less than ideal. Had a way of ruining the romance I’d simulated.
“I’m already ruined for all other women,” he whispered against my neck, tasting it one last time.
“Still struck monogamous?” I twisted in my seat and looked up at him. All the physical signs were there. All the responses I needed to know he was, for all intents and purposes, my slave. If I told him to get down on his knees and kiss my feet, I knew he’d do it.
He lifted an eyebrow in answer.
I smiled and stood up because my mouth was too close to his zipper, and Daniel wasn’t ignorant of that nearness. “Of course you are,” I said. Moving closer, I pressed a lingering kiss into the slope of his jaw before grabbing my clutch and heading for the door.
“We haven’t even finished the first course yet,” he said after me.
Oh, we’ve definitely finished the first course.
“I’m more of a main course kind of girl,” I called back over my shoulder. “I’ve never been into the whole gradual progression thing.”
Mischief in Miami Page 5
