Chapter 10
Lucas
Iwatch Amelia dress, that exquisite ass now concealed by tiny pink panties with purple flowers all over them. I want to fuck her again immediately. That was beyond good.
I glance self-consciously at the couch and my suit, relieved to see the evidence of our sex isn’t showing anywhere obvious.
Note to self. Remove some clothes next time, you idiot. You’re not sixteen.
Watching her pleasure herself was extraordinary. I’ve asked women to do it before, but they made it into some kind of weird porn movie, writhing and groaning in a way that just didn’t feel real.
Amelia looked as if she was doing it all for the first time, and it made me rock hard immediately.
My eyes run over her thoughtfully again. She doesn’t seem particularly experienced. That bullshit she spun about why her fingers shake doesn’t seem true either. She looked nervous.
But that’s crazy, she’s an escort, and Sterling House is the best of the best. She must be an accomplished actress.
I peel off the condom, throwing it in the trash, and adjusting my clothing to make myself presentable again. Another change of shirt is required; this is getting to be a habit.
Speaking of clothing, that godawful suit is gonna have to go. I don’t know why anyone would wear something that ugly when they have a killer figure like hers. But it won’t survive the day, I’ll cut it right off her body if I have to.
Now there’s an idea.
Her hair cascades down her back as she proceeds to braid the loose strands together with mesmerizing efficiency. It’s a beautiful blonde color, with honey and caramel hues shimmering in the light.
I have an absurd thought that I could ask her to shake it out and film it in slow motion on my phone. It would make a beautiful video.
Wow. I’m really letting my cock do all the thinking today.
Once she’s dressed, I rise as she glances up at me, those innocent, ‘fuck me’ eyes doing weird things to my insides.
I never know what to say after these encounters. With Fiona, it felt way more transactional. I would just thank her, and she would leave. With Amelia, a perfunctory dismissal doesn’t feel right.
Maybe I’m getting sentimental as I reach forty, but she comes across as more vulnerable than some. I don’t want to be the asshole who kicks her out right after sex. I haven’t checked my schedule this morning, but I’m pretty sure there’s nothing in until ten.
“I’m making a coffee,” I blurt out. “Would you like one?”
Her eyes widen in surprise as she looks at the twenty-thousand-dollar machine I had installed. It’s like having a barista on hand every day—if I could pay for a guy to stand next to me and make my coffee on a whim, I would.
“Thank you, that would be great,” she says, with a little smile. She has such a beautiful mouth. My eyes scan the room as I count the furniture. That’s the desk and the couch so far. Three chairs and a coffee table to go.
I walk over to the machine. “What would you like?”
“Does it make lattes?”
“It does.”
“I’ll have one of those, although I feel like I should be making it for you.”
“Let’s call it a thank you for an excellent wake-up call,” I say, smirking back at her, but she turns away before I can catch her expression.
The machine whirs, and Amelia stands awkwardly in the center of my office, her eyes dropping down to my feet and back up again.
I await the inevitable question. Almost all the women I’ve ever been with have asked about my aversion to shoes.
It seems to baffle people that I don’t like wearing tight leather and wool socks all day.
I watch the timer tick down on the machine, waiting for her to ask me about it, but she stays quiet.
As the creamy foam reaches the rim, I remove the glass cup from beneath the spout and hand it to her. It’s been a long time since I’ve drunk anything but espresso, and I realize I’ve never made a latte before. It smells damn good.
I hesitate, holding the cup between my thumb and forefinger. The latte glasses were a gift from Megan. I never got around to getting rid of them. They’re elegant, just the kind of thing Megan would think was classy. She even had our initials engraved on the metal at the base.
Why haven’t I gotten rid of them?
As I hand the cup to Amelia, I have a strange urge to snatch it back and pour the drink into something else.
“Thank you,” she says. “I’ll leave you to your morning. Is there anything you need me to do?”
“Kaitlin says you’ve settled in well,” I say, as the machine dings that my espresso is ready. “Do you have any questions for me?”
She shakes her head. “No. Thank you.”
“Then there’s nothing specific right now. Kaitlin and Beatrice will guide you through everything. You’ll mainly just need to be on top of my schedule.”
And my dick, of course.
A knock sounds at the door. “Lucas?”
“Oh shit,” I mutter as Amelia looks at me expectantly. “Sorry, I forgot I asked my friend Ambrose over to breakfast. Could you let him in?”
“Of course.”
She walks over and opens the door. I watch her as she goes. She appears professional, if not well dressed, and I’m glad it doesn’t look like I just fucked her five feet from where she’s standing.
My own suit is rumpled, and I smooth it down as Ambrose’s grinning face appears around the door. He takes Amelia in for a second before he saunters inside, his hands casually in his pockets as he looks around my office.
I rarely notice what other men wear, but with Ambrose, it’s hard to miss. He loves fashion and is wearing some kind of half-leather, half-suede jacket today with beading hanging over the front. He looks like a cowboy, and I’m dying to tell him so.
“Bongiorno Bella,” he says to me with a wink. “Did you forget?”
“Of course not,” I huff as he snorts loudly. “Let’s go.”
Ambrose bows to Amelia, and I feel a jolt of something pass through me as her big, green eyes take him in. Ambrose is a good-looking guy—Italian, suave, and tanned. His dark hair is a mop of curls that flop over his eyes, and I find myself irritated that the ridiculous outfit suits him so well.
He spends more than me on his clothes, and that’s saying something.
But does she have to stare at him quite so hard?
“Ambrose Georgiou, this is my new assistant, Amelia Brooks.”
He nods to her, and her cheeks turn a little pink at the filthy once-over he gives her. My hackles rise instantly, and I nod to her.
“Thank you, you can go.”
She leaves quickly and closes the door with a quiet click. I place my coffee down, putting my hands in my pockets and facing Ambrose with an unimpressed look.
“Was that necessary?”
“What?” He asks with mock innocence. “I was just admiring that angel made flesh.”
“Do you have to be such a flirt with every woman you see?”
“Are you telling me you don’t notice her? Because I call bullshit, my friend. She’s exquisite. Wherever did you find her?”
I play with the idea of telling him the truth. Ambrose wouldn’t care if he knew she was part of an escort agency. He knows how hard my breakup with Megan was, and of all of my friends, he would be the first to understand that I want a no-strings arrangement.
I consider it, but then decide against it. Something about him knowing Amelia is a hired escort unsettles me.
Would he try to hire her? I frown. And why would it matter if he did?
“I’m sorry I forgot our date,” I say as Ambrose chuckles. “Were you waiting?”
“I wasn’t waiting at all. You always text to confirm, and you didn’t, so I knew you had forgotten. Are we going to Lamberts? I might indulge myself and have pancakes.”
“We can, but I have a call with Barnes at ten.”
Ambrose looks over at me sharply as he goes to sit down opposite my desk. “Is the merger still rumbling on?”
“Yes. Rumbling and raging,” I say as I go to retrieve the papers I’ll need.
I watch as his expression changes to ‘business Ambrose’. I’ve known him since we both worked in finance together as fresh-faced twenty-somethings. His ability to negotiate tricky business situations is second to none.
“What’s the issue?” he asks matter-of-factly.
“Barnes’s clinging on. He wants three years of guaranteed employment for all of his staff.”
“Is he crazy?”
“Far from it. He’s got a loyal group, and he doesn’t want to sell to someone who’ll gut his employees.”
“Alright, I’ll rephrase the question. Does he understand the concept of a merger?”
“That’s what I’ve asked him, in so many words, but he won’t budge.”
“So work your magic. Offer something else he wants. He can’t expect zero layoffs. Questa è follia.”
“Mm. Madness indeed. But at the moment, I can’t see how we’ll get past it. I’ve offered everything I am prepared to. He is not compromising.”
“You’ll find a way to smooth the waters, old boy. You always do. And if you need me to take Barnes Enterprises off your hands, you know I will. That thing is a money pit. I bet I can have him lapping out of my palm before the day is out.”
“Don’t you dare. I’d hate to have to challenge you to pistols at dawn.”
“I’d settle for you buying me breakfast. Would you hurry the fuck up? I’m starving.”
I grin as I grab my things and we head out. Leaving the office, I watch Ambrose tip an imaginary hat to Amelia as he passes, his eyes lingering on her as he waits for me.
Ambrose and I have a rich history, including a few dalliances where we’ve shared women in the past. But I’m not keen on the idea with Amelia, and that thought confuses me.
She’s an escort, not my girlfriend. Why the hell wouldn’t I want to have some fun with an old friend? But as Ambrose leaves the room, I’m relieved to see him walking away from her.
“Have a good day,” she says as I pass.
I nod, getting my head in the game, knowing I have a long day of negotiations before me.
And what a way to begin it.
I feel more relaxed than I have in weeks.