Chapter 5 Blaine
Chapter five
Blaine
Sitting at my desk, I glanced at my phone for what had to be the hundredth time. My fingers itched to pick it up, to call my little Sunshine. It had been over a week since I’d last heard her voice, and I was going through withdrawal.
I hadn’t looked at another woman the same since. Hell, I hadn’t looked at another woman at all. Why would I, when all I could think about, the only thing I dreamed about, was the sexy, gorgeous Greek goddess who’d given me the ride of a lifetime?
Her wild, bouncy curls. That blinding smile. Those plump lips and the way she laughed like she owned the air in the room. Just remembering had me ready for a cold shower in the middle of the damn workday.
God, what was happening to me? I used to have the stamina of a college frat dude, the sex drive of a teenage boy. Now? I’d drop to my knees for her. Only her.
So why couldn’t I reach her? Why was she just out of my grasp? What was keeping me from her—
A mountain of files slammed down on my desk, nearly making me jump out of my skin.
Lucifer himself.
“Stop daydreaming and get to work,” Killian muttered.
I scowled. Of course he’d show up right as I was trying to remember how her perfume lingered on my sheets. Ever since the devil caught us in that hotel room, he’d taken it upon himself to police my dick like the bastard parole officer he pretended to be.
Granted, I was… five hours late to the office the next day.
Distracted, sure. But who the hell wouldn’t be, after a night like that?
The cheekbones that complemented my sexy ones, the body, the laugh—Christ, I was done for.
And instead of celebrating with me, Killian decided it was “only in the moment” and I needed to “get over it.”
Right. He wanted to ruin my shot at actual happiness. My only chance at true love… Okay, fine. It was one night. We barely knew each other… is what he kept insisting, even after I kept telling him he was ruining my life.
“Blaine!”
I snapped my head toward him.
“You’re still thinking about her.” It wasn’t a question. “You do realize you have a business to run?”
I rolled my eyes, leaning back in my chair.
And because I was apparently untrustworthy now, he had me on 24/7 surveillance. If it wasn’t Killian breathing down my neck, it was my traitor of a secretary keeping a daily report of my failures.
Monday:
8 AM: Mr. Porter is not in the office. After calling his cell, I was told to give him a few more minutes of beauty sleep. Will update in a few minutes’ time.
10 AM: I was not able to update the report as Mr. Porter silenced his phone. It is now 10 AM, and he has walked in with a box of donuts and a chocolate bar.
12 PM: Mr. Porter has since returned the paperwork given to him this morning.
He has not reviewed it or signed any of the documents.
While returning the files to my desk unfinished, he stated, "What was all of this doing on my desk?
" He has since taken a nap on the sofa in his office. Will update as needed.
What was her name again?
Didn’t matter. She was detailed, too damn detailed. Wondering when I'll be able to fire her.
Something hard cracked against the top of my head. I hissed, snapping my gaze up. Killian stood there with a rolled-up magazine like I was a misbehaving dog.
“What the hell was that for?” I barked.
“Get to fucking work.” His glare didn’t waver.
I groaned, turning back to my computer. The contract blurred, my elbow propped on the desk, cheek resting in my palm. Every few lines, my eyes drifted to Killian pacing the office, barking into a call with some overseas investor. He responded to my stares by glaring back like I was a child.
Then, every few lines, my mind drifted to her.
Sunshine.
Fuck, she was ruining me.
By the time Killian and my tattletale secretary bullied me into finishing, it was 10 PM. I should’ve gone home. Should’ve slept. Instead, my car took me where my heart already was.
Illusive Night.
The bouncer waved me through without question. The music hit first, then the perfume, cigar smoke and heat. My eyes swept the lounge. Servers weaving through tables, dancers shimmering under the lights. No Sunshine.
I stalked to the bar. The bartender looked up, already reaching for a shaker. “The usual, sir?”
“Yeah.”
He slid the whiskey sour across, but his eyes flicked at me, wary.
I scanned the room again. Still no sign of the little blonde.
The bartender hesitated. “Is everything all right, sir?”
“I’m looking for a server I met,” I said finally. “Maia.”
His jaw ticked, tension flashing across his face. “Maia… is not working right now. But—” He slid a tablet across the bar. “Sunshine is working her first shift for the backrooms tonight. And she’s already fully booked.”
My brow furrowed as I glanced down. Her name. A list of clients. Timeframes.
I stared at the screen, stunned. I wanted to laugh. This had to be some sick, twisted joke, even by my standards.
“You’re fucking with me, right?”
“I wish I was, Mr. Porter.” He exhaled heavily. “Yesterday was her last shift as a server. First private session’s in ten minutes.”
“I almost can’t fucking believe this,” I muttered, rage crawling up my spine.
Not at her, but at the men whose eyes I wanted to fucking tear out.
If my Sunshine wanted to give privates dances, the only person she'd ever fucking give one is me... Before the end of the night, I’d clarify that for her.
“She’s strong,” he said quickly, almost defensive. “She can handle the floor, but she’s not cut out for this. The boss knows she’s the best server we’ve got, but he’d rather put her other… assets to use.” His tone soured, and my eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean? She didn’t consent to this?”
“Vaughn’s been pushing for months. Maia kept refusing, stuck to bartending and serving. But he gave her an ultimatum. This, or she’s gone.”
I glared at the glowing screen, my anger coiling tighter. This was insane. Unreal.
He was cornering her. Forcing her into this. All while I’d been buried in meaningless contracts and meetings. My jaw clenched hard enough to crack bone. She wasn’t going to be forced into anything. Especially not by some greasy fuck who thought her body was up for negotiation.
Handing the tablet back, I leaned in close, pulling a checkbook from my jacket. I scrawled a figure and slid the slip across the bar. Four grand seemed reasonable.
“Cancel every session. Erase her name from the system.”
The bartender nodded without hesitation. “Of course, sir.” He passed me a small slip of paper in return. A room number. The one she was in.
Finishing my drink, I walked toward the back, escorted to the room by one of the guards.
The door shut behind me with a click, and I was met with a dimly lit room, red and black, velvet trimming and satin surrounding us. And there she was.
My Sunshine.
Only it wasn’t the version burned into my head. Not the seductive, shy-but-brave goddess who’d ruined me that night. This Maia was different. Nervous. Shoulders tight. Head bowed, fingers twisting at the hem of her little black shorts like she was bracing herself.
She hadn’t even realized it was me.
My chest clenched.
And fuck, she looked sexy. That black lace corset hemmed with bows tugging my attention to where her curves swelled, framed to perfection. Those tiny shorts hugging her ass, legs bare. Every inch of her was temptation.
But rage came first.
Because some other man was supposed to see her like this. To touch her. To have what I already knew was mine.
I’d never been the possessive type. Never saw the point in it. But after tasting her, after holding her in my arms all night, after half-joking and half-meaning it when I planned a marriage with her in a damn kitchen…
Yeah. I see the point now.