Mine
Lex
Present Day
I smooth my hand over my hair as I enter the ballroom. The place is very crowded, and finding Kendall, Olivia, or anyone else from work. A live quartet plays soft classical music in the corner that is, frankly, a bit fucking boring in the corner. The butterflies in my stomach collide as I take in the faces of strangers I need to schmooze with tonight. After three years, these corporate events still make me anxious. The mix of perfumes, cologne, and a faint hint of cigars lingers heavily in the air, causing my head to spin slightly. I push forward with my head held high and shoulders back, hands relaxed at my sides.
As I make my way through the suits and ties, I snag a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing server and resist the urge to pull my cell from my bag to text Kendall. Instead, I lock eyes with an older gentleman who has been intently watching me. Smiling, I navigate toward him. His face lights up as I approach.
As we engage in small talk—he’s from the next city over, his wife couldn’t make it, and his kids are grown and have kids of their own—I smile and nod while scanning the room behind him. His voice is low and gravelly, and as he raises his glass to his lips, the diamonds in his cuff-links sparkle. I think he asks me if I am married as I spot Olivia across the room, leaning against the wall and talking to a man who, for all intents and purposes, could be the doppelg?nger of the one I am talking to. I glance at the man who has been a prop for the last 10 minutes and smile, excusing myself and promising to find him once the dancing begins.
Lies, I don’t dance.
He pulls a business card from his pocket and hands it to me. I noticed that he is the chief executive officer of a company that Kendall has been trying to partner with for at least twelve months. I make a mental note to offer her as a tribute for a dance later and hurry across the room to Olivia. As I approach, she offers me a glance that screams, ‘ Save Me .’ I throw my arm around the shoulder of the man talking to her and notice the layer of sweat glistening on his forehead. His overpowering cologne hits me a moment too late: musky and synthetic.
“Mind if I steal Ms. Reed for a moment?” I ask the man.
“Only if you promise to return her soon.” His accent is thick, and I can’t place it. His tone is one I recognize—the kind that means he shouldn’t be left alone with women.
“Scout’s honor,” I say, grabbing her hand and dragging her toward the staff area.
We round a corner, and it’s only then that I feel safe to groan, “Christ, I will never get that smell off of me.” I look at Olivia and hold my arm out. “Smell me. I smell like that fucking pervert, don’t I?”
She laughs and leans away from my offered arm. “Hell no. I couldn’t get away from him. I think that shit was toxic. I might have brain damage from the fumes.”
Another server passes us with a tray of champagne, and I snag two glasses, passing one to Olivia. Her skin is glowy, and her hair is loose and waves around her shoulders. The tops of her exposed shoulders are red, reminding me she just returned from a client meeting that must’ve been somewhere nicer than our usually overcast city. While she tells me about the trip and the monster deal she landed there, I text Kendall to tell her where we are. Olivia is finishing the work story when Kendall rushes around the corner. As always, she looks fantastic in a little black dress, sky-high heels, and her bright blonde hair curled to look like an old-school movie star.
Olivia’s eyes shift to her, and she smiles brightly, the dimple in her left cheek popping out as it only does when she really smiles. “Perfect. Now that I have both of you, I need advice.” She laughs.
Kendall is the problem solver of the three of us, quick to offer a solution.
“Excellent, let’s hear it.” She says.
“As long as it’s not work-related,” I add.
Kendall nudges me playfully, and we both fall silent to let Olivia explain the situation. I sip my champagne while I listen, the bubbles popping on my tongue before they continue straight to my head.
“Well,” She starts, “Remember that guy I’ve been seeing?”
“Jackpot.” I rush out, and they laugh at the comment.
“Well, I told him I find dirty talk sexy.”
I nod while listening to her, extremely excited for whatever comes next.
“And suddenly, he makes this…” She pauses, deciding how to describe it, “he makes like a ‘mmmm’ sound whenever we are doing literally anything physical.”
She finishes, and Kendall and I stare at her.
Kendall breaks the silence by asking, “Is it a groaning sound?”
“No,” I say. “It’s like the ‘mmm’ sound you make when you’re starving and finally eat something delicious, right?”
Olivia laughs and nods.
Kendall looks confused.
I visibly cringe, and before I can stop myself, I mutter, “Ew.”
We dissolve into laughter. Olivia continues to tell us about the sounds and weird times it has happened, and the more she talks, the more I laugh. Ultimately, I end up pretending to dry-hump her, ‘mmm’’ing loudly. I offer zero advice, while Kendall suggests words of encouragement. We are in a fit of giggles, clearly forgetting where we are when our boss, Antonio, rounds the corner.
“Ladies, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you lower your voice or preferably return to the event? Everyone in the vicinity of this hall just heard you talk about how Olivia’s boyfriend demanded she ‘suck his cock’ and then made weird noises the whole time.”
Olivia blanches, Kendall straightens, and her expression drops to what I call her business face while I dissolve into laughter. Oh, that’s too good.
“Back to work, ladies.” He says sternly as he turns and returns to the way he came.
We fall into a hush a moment before I lean in and whisper loudly to them, “Someone should suck his cock. He needs it. Ollie - you up for it?”
Olivia shoves me playfully, her shoulders shaking with laughter. She says, “I volunteer you as a tribute. I am absolutely not it.”
Over the last couple of years, these two have become some of my closest friends. I spend all of my time at work, so I spend a lot of time with them. They are brilliant, powerful women, and I gravitated toward them when I joined our company. We all adjust ourselves. Kendall reapplies her lipstick, and we head back into the ballroom. The lights are lower now, and music fills the air. I turn to Kendall, remembering the man from earlier. I reach into my purse, fish out his card, and offer it to her. Her eyes go wide with excitement, and by some miracle, I locate him in the same spot I left him. I point him out and push her in his direction. There is no hesitation as she heads straight for him, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the dance floor.
I lean into Olivia. “She’s totally gonna win this month.”
Olivia rolls her eyes and laughs. “She wins every month. Let’s go before Antonio loses his mind on us again.” She nods to our boss, Antonio, who is standing with a group. He stares at us with a look that tells me we’ll get an earful tomorrow.
“Maybe one of them will suck his cock…” I muse.
Olivia laughs and waves me off as she heads right into the crowd.
Considering that Kendall went left and Olivia went right, I walk straight across the room to the bar. I really hate these events. They’re the worst part of a job I otherwise love. Leaning against the bar, I signal for the bartender, and a man steps in beside me while I wait. He’s close enough that I catch the scent of his expensive cologne and feel the heat radiating off his body. Turning to look at him, I am thrilled to see someone close to my age. The room is full of older men and their midlife crisis wives. This man, however, is younger and beautiful. He wears the typical attire: a suit that is too well-tailored to be cheap. He reaches his hand to adjust his tie, and I note the watch that peeks out from his jacket. It looks nice and incredibly expensive.
Before I can introduce myself, the bartender approaches and asks what we want to order. The man responds, ordering two gin and tonics. Considering this is a work event, I look back at the man.
“Do you make a habit of butting in line?” I ask, maintaining a playful tone.
He smiles, his teeth the brightest shade of white I’ve ever seen.
“I ordered you one as well, so does it really count as butting?”
I fight the urge to lie and say I hate gin, but given I am here to play nice, I lift a shoulder, scrunch my nose, and smile. “Okay, I guess you’re allowed.”
The bartender returns with the drinks, and the man clinks my glass in a toast. I reach my right hand out and introduce myself.
He smiles and slowly nods. “Ah, a vendor,” He quips. “Charles.” He takes my outstretched hand in his very soft, well-manicured grip and offers a single firm pump.
We chat at the bar and he tells me he is the Founder and CEO of a local tech firm. I immediately know the business. Recently, they awarded Charles, my new friend, innovator of the year, and recognized his philanthropy for donating over a million dollars to the dilapidated children’s hospital in the rough part of town. He smells of oud, black pepper, and rich aged leather. I’ve never thought anyone smelled like any of these—I didn’t realize I could recognize them—but I know it instantly. It smells like money.
We move from the bar to continue chatting, moving to stand near the wall. The longer we talk, the more flirtatious our dialogue turns and the closer we get. Before long, we are so close that occasionally our knees bump into each other. I am not usually one to flirt at work-related events, but Charles is gorgeous, rich, generous, funny, and intelligent. My eyes shift to his left hand, which is free from jewelry. I smile, satisfied that I may not be crossing lines outside of work conduct, and look back at his face. He is staring at me intently with a smirk.
“Searching for something specific?” He asks, leaning in closer, his tone a mix of mocking and flirting, his hand on my arm, thumb brushing back and forth.
My cheeks flush—he is observant and touching me. I laugh, a light, high sound escaping me. I’m lost in my world of musky cologne, Rolex watches, and no rings when Charles’s expression hardens, his playful demeanor vanishing completely. He steps back, allowing his hand to fall to his side. I quickly search my mind, fearing that I might have said or done something to offend him. It was going so well. I open my mouth to apologize—a habit I’m trying hard to break—when I feel a hand wrap around my waist. It’s both icy and searing all at once.
I force a mask of indifference as I turn and face the person next to me. My pulse skitters, and I feel the blood drain from my face. I am sure I would fall over if I weren’t close to the wall that I instinctively reach for. My body tenses, my spine straightens, and a rush of cold sweeps over my body. I shift to step away, but the hand on my waist doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens, the pressure hard enough to have me biting the inside of my cheek to stifle the whimper, trying to claw its way out of my throat. I swallow hard, heat crawling up the back of my neck and blossoming through my cheeks.
Adrian Liberty is standing next to me, his hand on my body, possessive, unrelenting.