Chapter 13
The charity gala is beautiful, as expected. Kara imagines the money spent to throw this event probably comes close to how much was spent in charity dollars when all is said and done. She marvels at the splendid flower arrangements, the sparkling lightworks, and candlelit votives sprinkled around the space, full of men and women dressed in fine dark suits and long black dresses.
The awareness Kara feels walking in on Dieter’s arm is immense. All eyes find their way to him first, but then fall to her as an afterthought. It’s something that still brings a prickle to her flesh, feeling all those gazes from countless strangers, the way they probably have their own judgement of who she must be to be at his side.
Dieter’s arm is warm under her hand as he escorts her in with a grin. Always unfazed by the attention in a way that Kara cannot understand.
She wonders what those who know him must think; he’s usually got statuesque models on his arm that are taller than him. Kara is shorter and that’s a fact that stands out, considering his type .
Drinks are passed about, along with cute fingerling foods. Kara sips her sparkling water and adopts a cool expression as Dieter shakes hands with various men as they make their way through the room. She’s not a fan of these events, but she does get paid well for the time spent dealing with other lawyers during their business dealings.
From the corner of her eye, she spots Nick and Claire, both socializing at the far end of the room. Her insides twist with a strange jealousy and dread. She wants and despises him all at once. His suit is perfect and austere on his form, with Claire looking picture perfect beside him, all red lips and glamorous midnight hair spilling down her back.
Nick’s electric blue eyes fall on Kara over Claire’s shoulder. His expression shifts visibly, eyes going wide.
Kara swallows thickly and looks away, wishing to disappear. She never answered his texts about needing to speak to her. He’s engaged and she doesn’t know how long her willpower will hold if they start meeting again, even to just talk.
The man beside her notices the small changes in her demeanor. His hand settles over hers where it rests in the crook of his elbow. “Hey, none of that. It’s game time, chickadee.” Dieter pulls her out of the main ballroom, leading them off towards where two men are already waiting for them.
“Did you know he would be here?” She asks, feeling vaguely betrayed. Seeing Nick with Claire hurts.
“Does it really matter?” Dieter whispers in her ear before they duck into an inconspicuous room.
I suppose it wouldn’t to you, she thinks.
It’s supposed to be a simple contract examination. Kara has done a few of these already for Dieter and her confidence is high as they enter the room. She tries to ignore the fact that Nick is here, in the other room, not so far away. With Claire.
…two people who seem to think Kara should throw all her morals to the wind and just give in. Oh, well, three people , if Dieter is included in that mix. These mad crazy bluebloods…
Focus.
Within the room are two men, one being a business potential for Dieter. The other being his lawyer.
The sour-faced man in the ill-fitting suit is Kallack, who distinctly gives Kara a once-over that makes her feel dirty. It’s followed by a distinctly dismissive glance, as if she’s unimportant. This incenses her immensely; she has every right to be in this room.
Beside him is his client, a slighter fellow, reedy in stature with a pinched face. Paulson, the gentleman looking to make a deal with Dieter. The guy is busy trying to look confident, but he comes off watery in the presence of Dieter.
“Bittinger,” Kallack says with no small hint of irritation in his voice, all bluster. “I appreciate your need to always have a slut on your arm, but this is one instance where we don’t need one of your floozies present.”
This chauvinistic dickweed. He literally knows who she is! They’ve met before, the bastard…
Kara glowers at him, feeling vindicated when Dieter sits down and doesn’t even glance at the folder placed in front of his seat. He’s pinning the other man with a flat look, peridot eyes empty of pleasantries. Without looking away, he slides the folder to his right, a clear indication that he wants Kara to look through it first.
Refusing to sit, Kara picks up the folder and begins to read. She ignores Kallack’s sneering look, waltzing slowly around the room in her black dress, looking at the documents within. She finds she likes walking around quietly when she does this; it puts people on edge.
She goes line by line, barely hearing the conversation of the men in the background.
“Look, Bittinger, everything is in order-”
“We’ll see,” is Dieter’s soft reply. Her chest warms hearing his confidence in her.
Mostly, the contract seems clean. However, there are a few open holes that Kara sees, little ways for the other man to slip out of the deal legally. The contract has some vague lettering that she doesn’t like either. With a sigh of irritation, mad that these two men across the table have tried to pull one over on Dieter, Kara sits down next to him, folder open.
Pointing to a few lines in the contract that she doesn’t agree with, she leans over to whisper in his ear, “Most of the contract is good, but Kallack has left it open for Paulson to sneak out of the deal. He makes it look like he intends to pay the loan and interest as agreed, but there’s a clause around situations where he may not be able to make a payment on time and be allowed to make the payments at a later date. No consequences. No interest listed. No specifics. I don’t like it.”
Dieter exhales slowly. The men across the table look anxious, as if realizing they’ve been found out. He leans back in his seat, looking at them with uncomfortable intensity. “Alright, Kara. How do you propose we fix it?”
The slimy lawyer across the table splutters, face turning red. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the contract. What does this slip of a girl know about any of this? Bittinger, be reasonable-”
Kara scowls at the bastard. She points her finger at one of the lines in the contract, saying firmly, “I know enough to know that you wrote a minor loophole into this contract. This isn’t going to fly. I want collateral. I want it to be something that’s going to hurt if your client reneges on his payments. There will be penalties for missed payments.”
Paulson looks at his lawyer sharply, a nervous expression crossing his pinched features. He doesn’t have a poker face, clearly. Not like Kara’s client, she notes with a strange bit of pride. Dieter has remained poised and rather snake-like, emotionless.
It’s strangely empowering, the fact that he’s perfectly happy to let her throw her weight around in this room. In fact, Kara knows it doesn’t bother him one bit.
The other lawyer gives Kara a condescending look, sweat on his brow. Why is he always sweating when she sees him? “We aren’t doing collateral of any sort. That’s absolutely outrageous-”
“Why is it outrageous? Are you new to this game?” Kara feels her blood heat dangerously, her claws and teeth feeling eager for blood. Hungry for it. “You’re asking my client to stick his neck out for you and invest. Why should he invest so much in your client if you have absolutely no collateral to put up if you can’t follow through on your terms? Trying to get missing payments with no interest? Excuse me, this is a completely juvenile attempt at closing a financing deal; I’m embarrassed for you. I’ll either write in a percentage of late fees and interest or I’ll take collateral. You choose.”
“You unreasonable bitch!”
Kara cackles a bit at that, feeling her dangerous emotions swell, feeding on the discord. “That’s right. I’m a bitch and that’s what he pays me to be. Did you really think Dietrich Bittinger would just sit down and take this sham deal? That’s fucking insulting. I’ll edit this, the way it should be . Then, we can sit down and your client can sign on the dotted line like a good little boy.”
The ‘good little boy’ goes red.
Dieter is faking a yawn. When he cracks his neck, he groans slightly. He’s ridiculously pleased; he always cracks his neck like this when he’s pleased. “Are we done here? I have other things I need to get to tonight.” He sniffs slightly and Kara knows he’s itching for a bump. It’s disturbing how well she knows his small tells already.
He stands up, causing the other man across the table to scramble to his feet as well. Paulson looks flustered, nervous, wringing his hands. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bittinger, I hope my counsel didn’t insult you with the contract…”
The slimy douche beside him turns an interesting shade of purple. Kara almost feels bad for him, getting thrown under the bus by his limp noodle of a client. Almost, but not quite. In fact, lately she finds herself not feeling pity for anyone she comes across during her adventures with Dieter.
Adventures with Dieter. Maybe she’ll start a special diary and make that her title page.
He allows her to be the hammer in the room. It’s fun . Glorious fun . The outlet it gives her to be a hardass to anyone who tries to play a weak hand is undeniable.
He’s changing you , a whisper utters in her mind. Is he changing you for the worse?
The men are wrapping up their conversation. “I’ll give you a chance to re-write the contract. I expect it to be as Kara likes. If you piss her off a second time, I won’t give you another moment at the table.”
Kallack nods, still red and angry looking. “Of course. I’ll make the suitable changes.”
Dietrich isn’t smiling, hasn’t smiled once since entering the room. He doesn’t seem to want to linger. “See that you do.” He holds his elbow out for Kara to grab, escorting her from the room. When she attaches herself to him, he silently pulls her away.
His face is still stony.
“Did I come on too strong?” Kara asks, only slightly worried that she got too aggressive. Is he displeased with her? Kallack brings out the worst in her with his sleazeball ways.
Dietrich seems distracted as he pulls her along. “You could be the queen of the damned and I literally wouldn’t bat an eye.”
Well, that’s strangely comforting. And troubling.
When they return to the glittering banquet hall, Kara tries to not search the room for Nick and Claire, knowing they’re both present, somewhere. She doesn’t want to see them together, it hurts, twisting up her guts into knots. Her eyes pass over a myriad of faces and she resigns herself to the fact that the night is probably only going to get worse when Dieter takes an odd turn towards the far hall.
“Dieter…?”
“Hush. I want to show you something.” He sounds husky, which makes her glance at him oddly.
“In the middle of nowhere?” She gives Dieter a suspicious glance, her brow furrowed slightly, mouth twisted in skepticism.
He tugs her around another corner. The remote men’s bathroom. “Smile and look pretty. No one will question this.”
Oh. Oh, hell no , she doesn’t like where this is going. “What is this ? Dieter-”
He waltzes into the bathroom as if nothing is amiss, as if bringing a woman inside is no big deal. A few guys look a little surprised, and an older gentleman definitely looks very disapproving, like he’s mentally scolding Kara’s upbringing, her ancestors, and her bank account, but no one says a word.
Without a care, Dietrich checks a stall and pulls Kara inside with him. The sound of people leaving the bathroom echoes on the tile floors. Kara finds herself up against her client, feeling distinctly out of her league. Should she be screaming for help? Is that what normal young women do in a situation like this?
“ What are we doing in a bathroom stall? At a charity gala .” Kara asks warily, unamused. She’s crammed up against him, can smell the faint whirl of his crisp cologne, aquatic with green apples.
“Hold out your arm,” he says shortly, opening his sport coat, digging around.
“ Why ?”
“Because I’m not doing this off the back of the toilet, that’s why.”
Dieter shifts around and pulls out a cylinder, dumping some of it on her outstretched arm. Kara stares. She stares some more. Her mouth works and she can’t even think of what to say. Does she stop him? Does she play mom and tell him that his habit is out of control? There’s cocaine on her arm!
There he goes, leaning over her arm, snorting a pale white line off her skin, head going back for a minute as he straightens up. Kara swallows and wishes she had somewhere to look other than at him. She squeezes her thighs together with shame; why does he look so good?
“Want some?” His voice is surprisingly rough , like five hours of sex rough. He rubs his nose and blinks owlishly.
“ Ah …no. Dieter-” She shakes her arm off, making the residue vanish.
He steps forward, backing her up against the stall wall. Thudding into it, feeling off balance, Kara puts her hands on his shoulders, ready to shove him into next Tuesday. What is he doing, pushing up on her like this?
But instead of rubbing up against her as she imagined he might, he sinks down, crouching on one knee, hands cupping her hips. His thumbs press in lightly, lifting up her dress a tiny hint.
Oh. Oh my God . “What are you doing?!” Is that high pitched sound her voice? “Get off the ground! This is a bathroom!”
Those eyes, now blacker than the pits of hell, stare up at her in a way that makes her knees feel weak. A thin band of green lines the blown pupils and she knows that she’s all he sees in this very moment. Her stomach flips, clenching hard.
It’s impossible to look away from him, not when he looks like this .
His intent is clear in the way that his hands travel across her shape, sliding downward slowly. A warmth that she can feel through the material of her dress. Tingling want, the heat between her legs. Sharp, insistent. Craving devious, terrible things. This man, the one that everyone watches enter a room, is kneeling at her feet.
“ What are you doing ?” A whisper, terrified and hypnotized all at once. She can’t look away from him.
She’s never…she’s attracted to him, but…he isn’t supposed to be in reach . He isn’t supposed to want her, his bottom-tier lawyer. This is an impossibility.
“You know what I’m doing.” Her dress is sliding upwards, his eyes still pinned on hers. “Stop me, if you want.”
Her face must be red. She’s barely breathing, caught in the gaze of a viper. Kara realizes at that moment that she’s not going to stop him; she doesn’t want to stop him. If she said stop, he’d stop, no doubt about it.
He’s not the man that came before him and he’s looking at the apex of her thighs now. He runs his thumb over the crease of her panties up in her slit, making her shudder. A trickle of wet builds between her nether lips.
“We shouldn’t do this. You’re my client and we’re in a f-fucking bathroom stall.” Why is she stuttering?
Dieter’s nose presses against her, inhaling in a way that makes her quiver. A gasp slips from Kara. Her thighs begin to spread of their own accord.
His mouth moves against her, Kara’s underwear the only barrier between them. “Don’t be such a priss; you got me hard with your bossy attitude in that room.” His words are heated against her, straight through the thin scrap of fabric. Shivers ride down her spine. “Have your reward.”
Reward?! Like a corporate bonus, except it’s his tongue against her flesh?
He pushes her panties to the side, his tongue lapping teasingly at her clit as he skillfully uses two fingers to bare her to him. Kara can taste her own heart on her tongue, timing slowing down at the first touch of his tongue against her heated flesh. Fire erupts in her veins and all she can think of is, oh God, it’s him, it’s him-
Long strokes of that wicked tongue, chasing all thought from her mind. Alternating between sucking her into his mouth and massaging her clit with his tongue. A heatwave consumes Kara’s skin, inside her veins. Her mind spins and Kara presses a hand over her mouth to cover up a moan. This is a public place and getting caught is the last thing she wants-
The stall wall holds her up when his tongue delves within her, pressing against her aching flesh all hot and hungry. She moans in surprise, using one hand to brace herself. She rolls her hips against his mouth, needing more.
The tongue licking her folds is skilled and confident, bringing her breathing to a rough pant. Against her best intentions, Kara feels her legs growing weak under his ministrations, her core swelling with arousal under his tongue. She’s dripping into his mouth.
He licks into her and sucks loudly, applying pressure, and Kara rasps, “Oh, my God.”
Dietrich grins against her center and makes some sort of vocalization that she feels against her sensitive flesh. Her wetness shines on his lips.
It feels fabulous and filthy and it’s one hundred percent wrong . This is her client.
I should stop him.
I don’t want to stop him.
Her body softens under his delicious actions, and Kara has to bite her palm to stifle her sounds of pleasure as he eats her like she’s a tasty treat. The sound his mouth makes is wet and loud, obscene. It makes Kara want to take control of him.
Lifting a knee over his shoulder, Kara opens herself up more, her back arching.
She groans into her palm and Dieter chuckles. “Louder, chickadee. Don’t you want others to know you’re getting eaten out by a king?”
Kara flushes with humiliation. She’s loud enough. Besides, “Your ego is too big for this stall.”
Shifting her hips, Kara burns, wanting to rub against him. Her clit is swollen, needing that final hint of friction to send her over the edge. The dark part of her wants to just take what she wants, to bury her fingers in his rabbit soft hair and grind his face against her core as viciously as she wants.
To use him until she cums on his tongue. Until she’s all he can taste . To rub her musky sex scent all over him, to mark him as hers.
Fingers twining into the strands of his pale hair, she considers it, gasping, needing more, just a bit more…
“Go on,” he breathes thickly against her swollen flesh. God, it’s so good . “You can’t hurt me. You’re holding back.”
She is holding back. There’s that small part of her that doesn’t want to seem like a selfish ass when a man goes down on her. Afraid of just taking aggressively. Of being too domineering-
Only, that’s not really a problem for Dieter, is it?
No, he likes it. He likes it when she’s aggressive.
Dieter’s eyes glitter when he sees her understanding. Her wetness shines on his mouth as he bites his lower lip in a way that makes her insides scream for more.
He’s going to be the end of me, isn’t he?
Gripping the back of his head hard, she hisses, “Less talking, Dieter. Get back to fucking my cunt with that clever tongue of yours.”
Oh, it’s sinful heaven, the way he groans against her, tongue delving into her sweet folds. And his fingers, oh, just there, carefully entering her body, caressing sensation into being.
It feels heavenly. Too good to be real.
Her body is shaking. “ Oh, oh …”
“Yeah?” He utters back, flicking her nub as he stuffs her with two fingers, pushing and prodding all her sweet insides with measured skill. “Yeah, chickadee?” His voice is sex itself, like silk on her eardrums.
Grabbing him by the back of his head, Kara shoves his mouth against her aching nub and grinds her hips against his mouth ruthlessly, taking her pleasure, riding his face until she feels herself fall over the edge into blissful eternity.
Her head falls back and her eyes close as she feels her insides clench, wetness gushing forward into his mouth. He groans as he cleans her with his tongue, and laps at her until she’s too sensitive to bear it any longer.
Coming down from her high, Kara finds herself gasping in a wrecked voice, “I can’t breathe.”
He laughs against her belly. He doesn’t need to ask if it was good; he knows he’s good.
As she comes down from her lusty high, reality returns unpleasantly. She just let herself get tongued in the men’s restroom by her client. She rode his face like she owned it.
Kara feels a flush develop in her face. Oh, what did she just do?
She doesn’t have much time to dwell on that. The sound of shoes clicking on the marble floors echoes loudly as Kara rights herself. She feels like everyone is going to know what she’s been doing in here. Hell, most people probably expect it, considering the man she’s with.
Dietrich gets to his feet, checking his clothes over carefully. He grins crookedly at Kara, his eyes dilated from the cocaine, because it can’t possibly be about her. Why does he always pull her in like this? She doesn’t want to like this man, not in the least.
But the reality is, she does like him.
The footsteps stop right in front of their stall and the door snaps open with force, causing Kara to snarl, “What the hell!?”
“What a surprise,” Nicholas Havenwood-Calais utters drily, with murder in his eyes. “Finding you both in here. Like this . What could you possibly be doing, I wonder?”
Dieter’s head clunks back against the side of the stall as he leans against it, snickering into his palm. Kara wants to smack him and tell him nothing about this situation is funny, but he’s riding his high.
“I’m consulting privately with my client,” Kara manages to choke out, despite her face being blazing red.
Dieter laughs even louder, the sheer elation of the cocaine soaring in his veins. He’s having a jolly good old time for a guy that didn’t get off…
“Consulting? Is that what you call it?” Nick says coldly, eyes narrowed in on Kara’s face.
“God, Nick. You’re so predictably boring,” Dieter chuckles, running a hand over his face. “You always know how to ruin a good thing.”
“Would you shut your mouth, pretty boy?” Nick snaps at him.
“ Rude . You know I never do that,” Dieter drawls as he slides through the small gap Nick has left to exit the stall. Nick’s face shifts, nose wrinkling. He can probably smell Kara on his lips, oh , that’s humiliating…
When Kara tries to slip past Nick to exit the stall, he doesn’t let her, barring the way with his arms. The scent of his familiar cologne washes over her, rich and dark. It swims through her senses, bringing back all sorts of old memories. The feel of his hands, the sound of his voice rough with lust.
Unfortunately, his voice is rough with irritation right now. Nick is looking down at her, those piercing blue eyes crawling right down into her soul. His broad form blocks her in, his power suit giving him that edge of intimidation, the sort that makes Kara’s heart flutter. “I tell you that we need to talk and this is what you go do?” He tilts his nose in the direction of Dieter briefly, maintaining that firm eye contact with her. He sneers a bit, a flash of teeth. “I bet you think it’s funny. Do you like playing these games with me? Felt like rubbing something awful in my face?”
Kara doesn’t play games with people, she’s not a freaking schemer. Not like some people she knows. “You think I would go out of my way to spite you like this on purpose?” Kara asks in disbelief. “ With him? ”
He makes a face. “Yeah, I think you would. Given our history.”
“I’m disappointed you think that,” Kara replies, feeling a twinge of hurt. She might have a rather ugly temper, but going out of her way to try and fool around with someone else for completely petty reasons? Not her style. “Then again, you never did want to know me , now did you?” The words are bitter on her tongue.
“Oh, don’t you even start with that dog and pony show,” Nick hisses, shaking his head, brow furrowing up. “It’s getting old and it’s not true.”
Kara opens her mouth to fire something witty back, but she’s interrupted.
Sighing theatrically, as if Nick is keeping him from something more important, Dieter says, “Nicky. Pal . Could you maybe go find your lovely fiancée? You’re killing my buzz with that broody scowl of yours.” He examines himself briefly in the mirror, rubbing his nose, glancing at his own drug-dilated eyes. If Kara looked as good as him, she’d probably stare at herself that much too. Pretty shithead.
Glancing over his shoulder, eyes narrowed with barely leashed anger, Nick says, “Could you have the decency to leave?”
Dieter leans casually against the pale marble countertops. He grins brightly, but his pupil-consumed eyes are dark and unpleasant. “I’m waiting on my date.”
“She’s not your date, she’s your lawyer.” Nick’s face cannot look more unamused.
Lifting his eyebrows facetiously, Dieter drawls, “Maybe she’s both .”
The words do absolutely nothing for Nick’s mood. His eyelids flutter with barely leashed anger every time he hears Dieter speak.
“Just ignore him,” Kara says under her breath. While she isn’t playing with Nick, Dieter is , trying to burn his last nerve in a frying pan.
Ouch , Dieter mouths soundlessly behind Nick’s back.
“Fine. He doesn’t exist. But you and I are long overdue for a conversation,” Nick tells her, his eyes flickering over her lips before darting back to her eyes. “Meet me tomorrow. Lunch.”
He wants to meet her for lunch after he just walked in on her getting eaten out in the men’s bathroom by his frenemy? Her mouth drops open stupidly. This is not how she imagined things going.
Seeing her momentary speechlessness, he says dryly, “Use your big girl words, Kara. I can’t read your mind, believe it or not.”
Thank God for small favors. When she regains use of her tongue, Kara chokes out, “Where at?”
Taking that as a yes, Nick gives her a grim sort of smile. Short and quick, almost invisible. “I’ll text you in the morning.” Nick steps back slightly, giving Kara just enough room to squeeze past him. Her entire body brushes the front of his and he inhales sharply.
Kara bites her lower lip to hold her feelings in, joining Dieter and his wicked smirk as they return to the gala.
When the hour becomes late, Kara watches the way Dieter drinks and drinks, the way he works the room effortlessly. He’s a perfect social butterfly, maybe even a chameleon. He makes networking look so utterly simple.
Occasionally, he will pat her arm as his signal that she needs to let him go talk to someone privately. She pretends not to be interested in who those people are, these people who he whispers to under his breath while they whisper back.
Conversations not meant for her ears. Or for anyone’s ears. He seems to have a lot of those conversations.
Kara would rather not know. She doesn’t want to know all of his business, because a part of her knows it isn’t all good.
While she’s waiting on Dieter to once again whisper dark secrets in some politician’s ear, Kara sees Claire giving her a royal little princess wave from across the room. That woman is made of something else , Kara thinks dourly, waving back.
“Ready to leave?” Dieter eventually asks her, pulling her towards the front of the hotel. Clearly, he’s had enough socialization for one evening. Kara has had more than enough. She can’t bear the looks that Nick has been tossing her way all night, igniting her shameful guilt.
“You know me, I’d love to leave,” Kara replies tiredly. “Is your driver coming?”
“I told him to take the rest of the night off.” The words are voiced with a slur.
Kara gives him her hardest dead-sober stare. “What do you mean, you sent him home? Dieter .” Kara groans miserably. Did he plan this? “Should I get you a hotel nearby? Or see if they have rooms here?”
“I don’t want to be here. Just take me to your place,” Dieter says, swaying a bit. He’s had too much to drink, gloating and coming down from his drugs. “I don’t mind your place. It’s okay for a homeless shack.”
A what? Urgh.
He’s trying to invite himself to her place now? Warning bells go off in her head. It’s not like he hasn’t come over before, heck, he knows the code on the gate of her building, but he never went down on her and now that it’s happened , it suddenly feels too intimate.
Her mouth feels dry. She hasn’t allowed a man to stay at her place in a very, very long time. Nick’s never even been to her home. “You’ll have to sleep on the couch. You’ll hate it. Let’s just get you a hotel room-”
“I’m too blasted to hate your couch,” he drawls in reply, his hand finding its way to hers, fingers interlacing. “Take me home.”
Kara closes her eyes and tries to convince herself that she’s not making a mess of her life with this man.