22
Jack
City high rollers and parliamentarians rub shoulders with actors, athletes and models without the fear of being judged or papped.
Mona, our hostess, opens the red velvet curtains for me. Staff and club members greet me with smiles, waves and whatever else they can do to catch my attention.
In my twenties, the attention was priceless. I was a kid in a candy store. Blonde, redhead, brunette, shaved head. I was insatiable.
Now in my late thirties, it’s mildly exhausting.
The Lexington and Bradshaw team are in the area reserved at the back.
I scan the crowd for the reason I’m here. The reason that they are all here.
She stands out a million miles. Her cheeks are flushed again, likely from alcohol, as she talks animatedly to Nisha and Sean.
“Scotch, please, Mandy.” I smile at the bartender as I take a position beside the bar in view of Bonnie.
“Right away, Mr. Knight. It’s great to have you with us tonight.”
Our overpriced signature cocktails are designed with the perfect blend of alcohol and aphrodisiacs to keep the posh punters coming back to get their fix again and again. If they can afford the five grand annual membership fee, that is.
Apparently, the cocktails are to die for.
I wouldn’t know. I stick to my neat Scotch.
I thank Mandy and leave a generous tip.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Jack Knight,” a woman drawls beside me. I turn towards the blonde nearly as tall as me. Anna. Ada. Something like that. Sexy as fuck. Kind of reminds me of Cruella de Vil.
I said I would help her charity and ended up sleeping with her in the process. “It’s been too long,” she says, eyeing me with the confidence of a woman who has never been turned down. “You’re ignoring me.”
“Not intentionally.” I smile politely. It’s not a lie.
“Have a drink with me.”
I nod to the team in the corner. “Sorry, all work, no play tonight. My staff and suppliers are over there.”
She’s undeterred. Sexy Cruella de Vil comes right into my space. “Later. Just the two of us.”
I throw back my Scotch. “It’s not a good idea tonight.”
“Why the hell not?”
That’s a damn good question.
Anna or Ada’s knee not so subtly manages to make its way between my thighs.
Is there a smooth way of turning a woman down that you’ve already slept with?
I glance back at the animated blonde in the corner. Bonnie spears me with a fierce glare that either means she wants to strip me naked so she can fuck me until she passes out, or do a Dexter on me, leaving me dead in a pool.
Hard one to read.
I tip my glass in her direction.
She ignores me and turns back to her mate, Nisha.
“Because I need to talk to Counsellor Adams,” I say to Anna/Ada, grabbing my opportunity. “Counsellor Adams.”
Anna/Ada takes the hint and saunters off.
When Adams sees me, he freezes, then his face lights up like a guy who has just discovered how his genitals work.
Damn, this is going to be a long, boring conversation.
“Jack, my man!” And there starts the monologue.
Luckily, I don’t need to concentrate too hard on what he’s saying. A few nods on cue keep him going.
I lean against the bar, directly facing Bonnie. I probably shouldn’t be so blatant, but I couldn’t give a fuck.
She’s sitting to the side, so she has to tilt her head to see me, but every time she does, my gaze is firmly fixed on her.
Nisha leans forward, whispering something to Bonnie that makes her blush even more.
Another guy on the team says something to her. She gives a wide open-mouthed laugh and flicks her hair over her shoulder before glancing over at me coyly.
This little show is all for me.
Nisha gets up and the lead architect from the company overseeing the entire regeneration quickly takes her seat. I hadn’t noticed him waiting in the wings.
He says something to get Bonnie’s full attention.
I clench my teeth as I watch her become more enamoured by whatever the hell they’re talking about. She throws her head back and laughs. Her legs part slightly, and I hope to fuck she bought a pair of panties to go with that bra.
“Another Scotch, old chap?”
“Yes,” I growl at Counsellor Adams. “Put them on my tab.”
The lead architect, whose name I should know, says something else and Bonnie nods, smiling intently. Maybe free alcoholic aphrodisiacs weren’t the best tactic.
The burning sensation in my chest grows and it’s not Scotch.
She darts a glance around the table then slyly hands the guy her phone.
What the fuck?
No, darlin’, I did not bring you out here to get off with another man.
As he passes back her phone, I snap up my own and type: Come here.
She jerks her head around, shocked. “No,” she mouths to me, then turns to the guy.
I curse between my teeth.
“Bad day, Jack? You seem a tad stressed.”
“Most productive day I’ve had in a long time.” I take the refill from Adams and type: Please.
She smirks over at me, typing back. See, that wasn’t so hard?
I sip my Scotch, watching her as she walks the long way around the bar. I’m not even pretending to listen to Adams anymore.
“Excuse me, Counsellor.” I nod towards Bonnie approaching.
“I won’t keep you from your lady friends, Jack.” He winks approvingly at me as he turns back to the bar.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” she says as she reaches me.
“So, you did miss me.” I sit on the bar stool so we’re at eye level and gently pull her by the wrists between my legs. Close enough that I can smell her delicious scent but not close enough that the Bradshaw crowd will suspect. They’re far enough away and drunk enough to be oblivious.
Her lips curve into a sassy grin. “Did you want me to miss you?”
“Very much so. For some reason, I’ve been distracted all day. Haven’t been able to focus since a certain hot-headed mouthy cockney tried to come all over my stomach.”
She visibly blanches. “Don’t remind me. I’m so embarrassed. I’m out of practice. Do you know stomach-sitting is actually a fetish? On the bright side, at least you can’t get pregnant from dry-humping a stomach.”
“You can borrow my stomach anytime. Day or night.” My hand trails down her hip confirming panties are intact. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “Why?”
“Why?” I raise my brows. “What do you mean why ?”
She sways slightly. She’s a bit more drunk than I thought. “Ah, come on, Jack. All the women in the bar turned when you walked in. Literally, every single woman stopped what they were doing and stared.” She hiccups. “Even the ones with guys.”
“Really? The only woman I saw was you.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically and laughs. “That’s a great line.”
I sigh. “Are you going to claim everything I say is a line?”
“I’ll assess them on a case-by-case basis.”
I nod to the Old Fashioned she’s waving precariously in her hand. “How many of those cocktails have you had?”
“Just a few. I’m tipsy, that’s all.”
Says every drunk person.
She glances over at the Bradshaw table and tries to pull away from me slightly, but I hold her in place.
“What was the guy from Nixon Lee asking you?”
“Adrian?” Her cheeks heat as she takes another gulp of cocktail. “Oh, he was chatting about the factory designs.”
She’s lying.
“Questions that he needed your personal number for?”
“I don’t have my work phone on me. It’s at the office.”
Uh-huh.
“So . . . about earlier on.” Her flush deepens as she waits for me to take the bait.
“Ah, yes.” With a grin, I intertwine my fingers in hers. “Earlier on.”
She smiles coyly. “It was pretty hot.”
“It was.” I fight the urge to pull her flush against my chest. “If I had my way I’d pick you up in my arms, kiss every inch of your body, and give you a night so memorable that you’ll never want to see another man again.
But I suspect you’ll be upset if I execute that plan in front of your co-workers. ”
She blows out her cheeks. “Holy hell that sounds like the best plan ever. But yes, I would be extremely pissed with you. Don’t you care what the teams think?”
“About you and me? No.” I lean forward. “I want to spend time with you, Bonnie.”
“Damn.” She groans. “Me too. I really want it.”
“It?”
“You.”
She looks up at me with such heat in her eyes my heart jerks in my chest.
Unnerved. That’s how she makes me feel. It’s both a blessing and a curse.
The forced proximity these last few weeks has allowed her to dominate my thoughts, which isn’t helpful when you’re in the process of erecting billion-pound buildings.
“ I always thought I had more self-control,” she says to herself as much as me. “That sex isn’t worth the risk of all the office gossip. But I totally get it now. One-night stands with people you work with.”
“Some things are more important than what your co-workers think.” I shrug. “Learn to care less.”
She eyes me sceptically. “Spoken like a boss who doesn’t need to care about what anyone else thinks.” She downs the last of the liquid in her glass. The danger with Old-Fashioneds is that they’re so damn delicious you forget you’re pretty much drinking whiskey neat. “Are we doing this then?”
I feel the pulse in her wrist quicken. “Elaborate, sweetheart.”
“Fucking,” she blurts out in a loud whisper. She doesn’t wait for me to respond. “I mean I don’t know if I’ve got the mentality for casual sex yet, but I’ll damn well try. I can’t even call it a rebound because it’s been so long. But I think I’m ready. No emotional attachment. No strings.”
I stare at her trying to keep up.
She breathes out heavily. “Just pure out-of-your-mind sex.”
“God forbid you get emotionally attached.”
“Nisha’s done it. Jenny from Accounts slept with Bradshaw’s son at the Christmas party.
Why can’t I?” She waves her empty glass in the air.
“Is it too much to ask for some…just some show-stopping,” she searches for words, “jaw-breaking dirty sex ? Mind-blowing sex. Just vanilla though,” she adds quickly.
I blink. “ Is that a serious question you expect me to answer?”