Chapter Fifteen #3
- I promise to be on my best behavior at the Mallick's house.
Thankfully, he let the topic drop.
-- You guys have fun tonight?
- Yeah. Luis is in town.
-- Luis?
Right. He didn't know about Luis. I guess I had maybe figured he would have looked into me by now. And my social media was full of pictures of me with my brother.
- My brother. He's a model. He just dropped into town for the night. They dragged me out. I had too much sake. And sushi isn't exactly great drunk food.
-- You'd think working at a whiskey company would make you have a higher tolerance for alcohol.
- We don't exactly drink on the job.
-- Pity.
- You're a whiskey fan?
-- My drink of choice.
- Have you had ours?
-- At that price-tag? No, babe. Plenty of good whiskey under two-hundred bucks.
- Yeah, I agree. I have been championing for a lower price for a while now.
-- Don't want to cater to the rich?
- Well, there's nothing wrong with a luxury item. But catering to the rich lowers how many units you sell. If you cater more toward the middle class, you sell more bottles. It's good business. But my parents are a bit set in their ways.
-- Your parents own the business?
I hated texting because it was so hard to read undertones. Like if he was being condescending, if he was looking down on me because my parents had handed the reins of a company to me. If he was thinking thoughts on nepotism and how people like me never had to work to get where they are.
I worked.
In fact, I didn't work for the family business until two years before. I had set out to prove myself and had been steadily working on that until, well, life threw something horribly unexpected at me. And everything changed.
Giving me Devil Tears had nothing to do with nepotism and a lot to do with trying to give me a distraction, so I didn't self-destruct.
And it had mostly worked.
- Yes. They are looking toward total retirement. They are divesting and/or stepping down from management roles of all their companies.
-- Why pick the whiskey business out of the others?
- It didn’t have to stay in California. It was close to being in the red. I wanted to turn it around. I... needed a challenge.
-- Except they are still butting in.
- Yes
I knew it was their company. And I was thankful they had trusted me with it, but it was difficult to make any real changes if you weren't given the full power to do so.
-- Are you in control enough to run sales?
- Short ones, yes.
-- Do all your new promo shit the week you slash prices. If you can show them that the slashed prices bring in customers, they will listen to you.
- Maybe you are Mr. Hot Advertisement Guy, after all.
-- Think I'm hot, huh?
Inexplicably, my cheeks heated further, making me almost unbearably hot. Thankfully, the driver was pulling down my road, and I could get in my apartment and crank up the AC to cool down.
Though something was telling me this new round of heat had nothing to do with the alcohol. And everything to do with the man on the other side of my text conversation.
- Yay. Home. Time to go.
It was maybe the most awkward segue I'd ever given someone, but it got me out of having to answer his question.
-- If that stripping thing happens, I'm afraid I am going to need evidence to believe it.
He was definitely, definitely flirting with me.
And I was definitely, definitely into it.
I had a feeling that things were about to get rather sticky between Nixon and me.
That was going to make the situation with me and Michael even more complicated.
They were heavy thoughts.
But we were suddenly in my house. And Luis was opening up a bottle of red. I was stripping a few layers off. Krissy was putting on some dancing music, and pulling me off the couch to move around with her.
Things were light.
There would be time for heavier thoughts tomorrow.
An hour later, even more buzzed than before, but cool, happy, I fell back onto the couch, letting out a happy laugh as Luis pulled Krissy to his chest to show off his tango skills despite the music being DMX barking from the stereo.
What was I thinking right then?
Not about work.
Not about the situation with Michael.
No.
I was thinking how nice it might be to have someone there with me right then.
That someone immediately took the form of a certain grumpy somebody.
And I couldn't help but wonder if it was possible to get a man like that to dance with you.
Though, right then, I would settle for a chest to lay on and hands to stroke through my hair.
I hadn't given the opposite sex any consideration in a very long time. There was no denying I was giving it thought now, though.
And I couldn't help but wonder what the next Sunday had in store for me, what it would be like to be someone’s—and maybe this particular someone’s—girlfriend. Even if it was only for pretend.
Pretty quickly, though, I wouldn't have to wonder anymore.
Because Sunday came slowly and then all at once.
Then he was there again, looking even better than I remembered, making me want to yank him into my office and rip that suit off of him.
It was going to be an interesting night.