Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
Miller
I’m sitting in the corner of Denise’s diner with my laptop, going over the proposal from one of the development departments. My phone sits face up on the table, and I see a text come in.
Monty: Who is this woman that you’re dating?
I look around, expecting to see my CFO standing close by.
Me: Denise. Why?
Monty: There’s something on page six about the recluse, that’s you, slumming it with the help.
Me: Slumming it? What the hell? Recluse?
Monty: Don’t hate on me man, I’m just the messenger.
I open a web browser on my laptop and search for the page six gossip area about the who’s who of Empire Bay.
Front and center is a photo of Denise and me in front of the museum. We’re holding hands and looking at each other with smiles on our faces with the headline… The Mysterious Miller Davenport steps out with the Help.
I go on and read the article and am shocked at the words on the screen.
“Recluse.”
“Far less superior.”
“Subordinate.”
I click out of that browser, grab my phone, press connect on my lawyer’s number, and wait for him to answer.
“Jefferson Mace’s office, how can I assist you?”
“Miller Davenport for Jefferson, please.”
“Hello Mr. Davenport, is he expecting your call?”
“Does that matter? Connect me.” I reply firmly.
“Yes, sir.” She replies quietly.
“Davenport! How are you, son?” my loud-mouth lawyer projects into the phone.
“I would like to sue someone named Marcia Carlos.”
“Who is Marcia Carlos and why?”
“She wrote something about me on Page Six and I don’t like any of it.”
“Miller, you know we can’t just sue someone because we don’t like what they say about us. This isn’t high school, and I’m not the principal’s office.”
My hand tightens into a fist. “What about defamation of character?”
“Can you prove actual malice, that this Marcia Carlos knew she was writing false things about you? We would need to prove that she’s purposely writing false statements that she knows to be false to sue for defamation. So, would we have a case?”
“I don’t fucking know. Isn’t that something that you find out?”
“What are we talking about here? You said it was written on Page Six. Is that today’s or yesterday’s?”
“It’s from today.”
I hear typing from his end of the call, and some mumbling.
“This is all speculation. There’s nothing we can do. The writer is writing from her ass. She did her homework and likely did a reverse photo lookup to find out who the woman was in the photo. She probably social media stalked her.”
“How the hell would she know it was me in the photo?”
“Even though you’re not heavily photographed, smart of you, there are some records of who you are. People are internet sleuths nowadays. Any public figure has a profile out there. You would be amazed at how simple it is to collect information about others with everyone sharing their personal details on social media. I had this ex-girlfriend once who knew everything about me before our first date. Can you believe that shit?”
I ignore his comment and rub my forehead.
“What you’re trying to tell me is that there’s nothing I can do?”
“You can write to the reporter and ask her to retract some of her statements, but honestly, no. There’s no legal recourse that we can take in this situation.”
“Thanks Jefferson.”
“Anytime Boss. Oh and hey, Miller?”
“Yeah?”
“Your girl there, she looks cute. Be nice to her. And also, might need to get an NDA. Just in case.”
I hang up on him and think about what he just said.
I’ve gotten NDA’s in the past, but I don’t want to go with her. She’s not like the other women that I’ve come across. She’s special.
And speaking of special, she slides into the booth beside me.
“You look stressed. Everything okay?” her hand is on my thigh, warming up my body.
“Hi. No, everything is okay. I’m okay.”
“You’re a horrible liar.” She grins.
I pull the article back up and turn my laptop to face her. I watch her features as she reads. Concern etches across her face, and then her hand goes to her mouth as she turns to me.
“Well, people are just mean.”
“I do my best to stay out of the public eye for reasons just like this. I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“This article here is kind of degrading.”
“Yeah, but it’s just words. Written by someone who clearly doesn’t know either of us. Or whatever this thing is between us.”
“This thing between us. Listen, I’m not one to be in relationships.”
“Oh.” Her mood shifts.
I pull her hands into mine and pull her closer to me. I gently kiss her lips.
“I wasn’t saying that. Whatever you’re thinking, un-think it. I’ve been in a lot of non-relationships. I’ve stayed away from them, honestly. But this thing between us, I want.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I would like that.”
I pull her closer and kiss her hard. My heart is beating quickly as the adrenaline soars through me with the thought that we took our relationship to the next level with so few words.
“Does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” I question for clarification in the most corny way possible.
“As long as you’ll be my boyfriend.”
“Wow, I didn’t think coming to work today would be so eventful. I gotta get back to it. Are you good? Do you need anything?”
“I just want to kiss you a bit more.” I grin.
“Later. I’m working.”
“Fine, Fine. I’ll keep my hands to myself. I guess I’ll order something more. Can I get a burger with coke?”
“I’ll put your order in. I’m off in about two more hours. Are you gonna stick around?”
“Absolutely. We have a relationship status that we need to celebrate.”
“You’re ridiculous.” She shakes her head with a laugh.
My body shutters in ecstasy as I roll my hips and pant out a hiss at the contact of our bodies. We’re moving slowly with our gazes holding on to one another. Languidly, my hips pump into her. Her tits bounce with each thrust, with low moans escaping her lips.
The heavy breaths, the sweat dripping down my spine, and the pure pleasure of fucking her - propels me into feelings that I’m not sure how to organize in my mind as I move to an unknown rhythm. My hand presses gently down on her hip as I’m over her, pushing in and pulling out with my body, being fully aware of every move we make.
“Yes.” I hiss through my teeth, feeling the pleasure pulsing at the base of my spine. I press my thumb against her sensitive nub and rub in a circular pattern while my hips piston. Her pussy contracts, squeezing my cock like a vise.
“Fuck,” she says, “I’m coming.”
“Yes.” I expel, quickening my movements. “I’m coming too. Yes!”