Chapter 17 Lucas
Lucas
“Pretty heavy traffic tonight, sir. You want me to put on some Taylor Swift to calm you down?”
“Melvin, if you put Taylor Swift on in this car, I will fire you,” I say as my sadistic driver chuckles to himself and raises the privacy screen.
After a few minutes, Moby begins playing over the speakers, and I let out a soft sigh, stretching out my legs as far as they’ll go.
It’s been a frustrating day, on the heels of a long week, and my anger hasn’t subsided since the meeting with Barnes this morning. I’m struggling to relax.
In some ways, I’m surprised Barnes isn’t backing down; in another, it’s depressingly predictable. I left the meeting convinced it was all a lost cause and that I should drop the deal completely. But Vanessa persuaded me to stick with it while we continue negotiations.
I scratch my jaw, thinking back to the tension in the room.
It hadn’t exactly helped having Amelia behind me, either.
I thought it wouldn’t make any difference, but I was conscious of her the whole time.
I found myself lost in memories of tying her to my chair and fucking her senseless the night before.
I shake my head, my fists clenching in my lap. I still can’t believe I did that without talking to her first. Rule one of dominant play: You always make sure the other party is into it before starting anything new.
I rub a hand over my thigh, my cock twitching at the memory of her reactions. God, the way she writhed beneath me. I could have stayed inside her for hours until we were both spent.
Everything about Amelia is authentic. I can’t figure her out.
Whatever she is, she’s a talented actress.
Not many escorts can look as if they’re experiencing things for the first time like she can.
It’s a kink I didn’t know I had. I’ve never been so possessive about a woman before, which is ridiculous—she’s hired to please me, she must know every trick in the book.
At that thought, my boner quickly deflates. I’m relieved, because the restaurant isn’t far away and Ambrose would have a field day if I turned up sporting a hard-on.
I watch the lights of New York pass me by, looking forward to sharing a bottle of wine with my friend. I need something to mellow me out, and the furious email exchange with Barnes after the meeting has left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I can’t understand his attitude. Holding out for a three-year deal for his employees, while compromising on the very foundations of why I offered to buy the company in the first place—it makes no sense.
For once, I haven’t told a single lie to get him to sign the agreement.
I genuinely want to retain as many of his staff as I can.
He has talented software engineers doing a lot of good work in tech, and without their expertise, our vision will crumble.
But I can’t agree to the merger as it stands.
If I sign on for three years, all the structural changes I have planned will get derailed in the process.
As we pull up to the restaurant, I’m no closer to an answer. Usually, with a deal like this, I can tell straight away what to do. I have a gut reaction, and I follow it. But the truth is, I feel bad for Barnes. I understand his point of view and can see that he cares deeply for his staff.
If I were in his position, would I agree to what I’m offering? Probably not.
Melvin opens the door, and I get out, buttoning my jacket as I head inside.
I’ve been to this restaurant with Ambrose a million times. It’s French, with excellent service and even better food. I check my watch. I’m on time, which means he’ll already be waiting for me. In twenty years of friendship, I don’t think I have ever beaten Ambrose anywhere.
As I enter, soft piano music plays beneath the quiet hum of conversation. The restaurant has been repainted in a deep red since we were last here, with dark purple cloths over all the tables.
The ma?tre d shows me to where Ambrose is sitting. He already has a bottle of wine next to him and grins as I approach.
“Why do I feel like we’re on a date?” I ask as he chuckles and pours me a glass.
“It’s the ambiance, my friend. And the color. If it were Valentine’s Day, it would be most romantic, no?”
I smile at him, but my anger returns as I’m reminded of the last Valentine’s Day I spent with Megan. She was insufferable that night, drunk and complaining about everything I did. Nothing was good enough for her, and three weeks later, I found out why when she dumped me.
“A date with you would probably go better than all the other Valentine’s I’ve had,” I say bitterly, taking a large swallow of my wine.
“You must stop thinking about Megan, Luca. She was always a bitch from hell and you’re much better off without her.”
I snort, saluting him with my glass. “Maybe I should get that stitched on a pillow as a Christmas gift for her this year. I’m sure she’ll be at my parent’s, along with Sinclair. I’m never going to get rid of her.”
“Elona is still playing happy families, then?” Ambrose asks with a scowl.
“Of course. You can’t hold a grudge around my mom. She loves Megan. Always has. If I brought it up, she’d just tell me to get over myself.”
I stare moodily into my wine. Ambrose tops me off, leaning back in his seat and raising his eyebrows quizzically.
“How was today?” he asks, checking out the waitress as she passes us.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say bitterly.
“My, my, have we met our match?”
“Barnes is as stubborn as a fucking mule,” I mutter.
“And what would happen if you agreed to everything he asked for? Would the sky fall?”
“It would set a dangerous precedent.”
“Is that all? You have set them before.”
I glare at him. “Ambrose, I’ve merged sixteen companies in the last decade. If I agree to three years of guaranteed employment for this deal, it creates a model that’s not sustainable. Every future negotiation would begin with that as the baseline, and my investors would crucify me.”
The waiter arrives and takes our order. We don’t even need to look at the menu these days. I have the filet, and Ambrose has the risotto, and I sit sullenly sipping my wine, trying to release some tension from my shoulders.
“You are very intense tonight, my friend,” Ambrose says with a little smile.
“Sorry. It’s been a shitty day.”
“Hm, is that all? You look as if there is something else on your mind.”
I scrape my teeth over my lip, thinking about Amelia’s slender fingers holding the latte cup in my office.
The beautifully entwined initials around the base glow in my mind, as if they are scored in fire.
Then Amelia’s fingers change, morphing into those perfectly manicured red claws, sliding over Sinclair’s neck in my mother’s kitchen.
“Ever since I went to my mother’s, I’ve been on edge,” I admit. “It pisses me off that Megan is back in my life. I guess that’s been nagging at me this week, and this stuff with Barnes isn’t helping. He’s hanging on, just like she is, and I want him gone. I want them both gone.”
I’m dismayed to see I’ve drained my glass again and switch to water. The food hasn’t even arrived yet, and I don’t want to be drunk off my ass when we leave. I glance at Ambrose, who is watching me lazily from the other side of the table.
“Do you remember what Megan told me when we split?” I ask him.
“I do. She said something very untrue.”
“That I’m cold and unfeeling.”
“Which you are not.”
“I’m not dating you, Ambrose, so I’m not sure you have an informed opinion on the subject,” I say with a little smile.
Ambrose tips his head in agreement. “True, but you and I know I have seen you in… other guises too. And there is nothing unfeeling about you. Not as a friend, or a lover.”
I smirk as my fingers smooth over my glass.
“Tell me,” he continues. “Do you and the angel I saw in your office have the same arrangement as you and Megan once did?”
I stare at him over the rim of my water glass and roll my eyes. “You’re a goddamn mind reader, you know that?”
“I have been told before.”
I chuckle. “Great, so you figured out we were fucking as soon as you met her?”
“That, and the fact that you looked as if you had just blown your load when I walked in, yes.”
“Jesus, Ambrose,” I murmur, tugging at my collar.
“You cannot hide that look from me, my friend. I know it well.”
I grunt, grinding my teeth. Ambrose and I had an arrangement that worked well for both of us. Megan and I would fuck, and he would watch. Occasionally, I would even let him fuck her when she was in the mood.
I imagine fucking Amelia in front of him, and this time the thought isn’t unpleasant. In fact, I feel my cock twitch as I meet his gaze.
“So, do you?” he asks.
“No. She’s not exactly what you think, either.”
He frowns at me. “In what way?”
I lean back in my chair and consider whether it’s a good idea to tell him the truth. If I know Ambrose, and I do, there is only one way this night is going. I can see the interest in his dark eyes across the table, and anticipation is already building in my chest.
It isn’t the act itself that bothers me, but what might follow.
If he knows Amelia’s profession, would he try to hire her? And why do I care if he does?
I clear my throat. “Amelia is an escort,” I say, keeping my voice low. “She’s hired for the purpose of giving me what I want, when I want it. Within reason, of course.”
Ambrose raises his eyebrows. “Solely that?”
“And some other work. I discovered a little firm called Sterling House. I wanted to have some no-strings sex. You understand, I’m sure.”
“Si?. As long as the lady is willing and in agreement.”
I frown at him. “That’s the point.”
“Hm.”
“What?”
“Nothing, she just did not strike me as such.”
“You met her for five seconds.”
“True. But I have read many people in less time and been correct. I knew, for example, that you and I would be friends the moment you collided with me and spilled your coffee all over my shirt on our first day at Morganstern.”
“Yes, well, if you will insist on walking at a hundred miles an hour, that’s your own fault.”
We share a smile of happy familiarity as our food arrives, but I can feel him watching me as I pick up my steak knife.
“So, how does it work? Do you pay her only when she is with you?” His gaze moves to the windows of the restaurant. “She is not waiting in your car right now, is she? I would abandon our meal immediately.”
“No,” I say, my irritation rising. “It’s eight to five only. Strict rules apply.”
“How traditional.”
I eye him carefully, but the interest in his eyes is enough to reassure me that he isn’t judging me for my choices.
“What are you doing later?” he asks.
“Going home,” I say lightly as a pulse of heat rushes through me. “Why?”
“Perhaps we could ask her for a nightcap, no? Only if she is agreeable, of course.”
“I won’t share her.” I wince at the anger in my tone and lean back in my chair with a heavy sigh. “She’s not like Megan.”
“Hm. I find that most interesting, but it is not a problem, my friend. I would be most content to observe as I have done before. You are so exquisite as a lover.”
I huff out a breath. “You’re an idiot.”
“Is that a yes?”
I hesitate, wondering what Amelia would say if I called her now and asked her to come to my place.
Am I comfortable with her coming to my home? I haven’t had a woman there for a long, long time.
“I’ll ask her, but she has every right to say no at any point. If she gets there, takes one look at your ugly mug, and says she needs to go home, she can.”
Ambrose’s smile grows. “Excellent. What a turn for the better. I think we will work out the tension in you tonight in the best way, my friend.”
He raises his glass, and we chink them together as I contemplate what the hell I just agreed to.