Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ALORA
“I beg your pardon,” I whisper, outraged. “You could not smell my panties from across the room.”
“Oh, my mistake.” His eyes dance with mischief as he sips his drink. “I meant see…not smell.”
Okay…stop flirting with me.
You may be newly single but I already know I’m not emotionally equipped to be on your rebound roster.
I put my hand down over my zipper to check that it’s up…. Oh, the horror.
“Is that why you came all the way over here?” I act annoyed. “Just to do up my zipper?”
“I’d prefer to undo it…but it will suffice…for now.”
For now.
His words hang in the air between us, bringing with them visions of legs over shoulders and beds being broken.
Focus.
“How are you?” I change the subject.
“I’m well. And you?”
“Never better.”
A trace of a smile crosses his face, can he feel my arousal as it pumps through my veins? Who am I kidding, they can feel it downstairs in the parking lot.
“Next time you’re in Paris I want you to meet my interior designer,” he says matter-of-factly.
“What for?”
“I have a boutique hotel that I want you and my designer to collaborate on. I want eclectic pieces that work with her vibe.”
“Oh.” That sounds interesting, I would jump at the chance for something like this.
I’ve thought about tackling the commercial market before but hadn’t any idea where to start.
Maybe if this works out it could lead to future work, at the very least it would be good to have a contact in the industry… hmm. I should do this.
“I’m actually going to Paris next weekend.”
“You are?” He frowns.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing there?”
“Umm….” I try to think on my feet. “I have a business meeting.”
“On the weekend?”
“Sunday, but thought I would take the weekend to enjoy and do some shopping.”
“Okay, well if she can meet you briefly, would you have time?”
“Yes, of course.”
He takes out his phone and texts someone and my eyes flick between him and the room. “What’s her name?”
“Nel Davenport.”
“Nel Davenport?” My eyes widen. “You know Nel Davenport?”
Why did I say that, it made me sound like a five-year-old groupie.
“Yeah, she’s great.” He puts his phone down and glances over to me. “Do you know of her?”
“Vaguely,” I lie. I’ve got every book she ever wrote, not that I’ll ever admit it. “I’ve heard she’s pretty good.” I try my hardest to act casual. Nel Davenport is the rock star of the interior design world, and this is the opportunity of a lifetime.
I want to bounce in excitement.
His phone beeps with a text and he reads it. “Is 11 a.m. on the Saturday suitable?”
“Sure.” I roll my lips to hide my smile, oh my god…. Is this for real?
He texts her back as my mind runs wild with possibilities.
“All set.” He keeps texting. “I’ll organize a room for you at the hotel so you can get a feel for the vibe I want.”
“Oh.” I should say no but in all honesty that’s probably a good idea, I guess I could always cancel the hotel I booked. “Okay, if that’s not too much trouble.”
He reads something on his phone. “All set.”
“Thank you.”
Ding, my phone sings in my bag and I glance down at it.
“I just sent you the hotel’s address.”
“Great, thanks.”
“Edward.” Someone calls his name and he glances over to another man I haven’t seen before.
“I have to go; we have another engagement to get to. As always it was pleasurable to see you.” He leans in and kisses my cheek before whispering in my ear, “My right hand has been thinking about you a lot.”
Before I can even reply he strides off across the ballroom and down the stairs with a group of men.
His right hand…. Are you fucking kidding me?
“Where did he go?” Helene whispers as she walks back over.
“He had another engagement.”
“Like what?”
“Who cares.” I sip my wine. “Let’s look at these stupid paintings and get out of here.”
“Can we get some dinner?”
“You bet.” I’m all flustered and flushed. “I’m having chocolate cake.”
We begin to wander through the paintings. “So what did he say?” she whispers.
“He’s all flirty with the sexual innuendo but then does nothing about it. If he wanted to actually talk to me he wouldn’t have rushed off.”
“Maybe you’re misreading it, give me an example of his flirty.”
“He did up the zipper on my jeans because it was undone. Said he could smell my white panties from across the room.”
Helene’s eyes widen. “Hell on a cracker, that man is fucking fire.” She thinks for a moment. “But your zipper wasn’t even undone.”
“Well, that’s what I thought, but maybe it was. Honestly, how embarrassing.” I let out a deep sigh. “Who walks into an art gallery with their vagina hanging out?”
“Is your underwear white?”
“Huh?”
“What color panties are you wearing?”
I subtly pull the waistband of my jeans out to look. “Black.”
“So he was lying.”
I stare at her as I connect the dots.
“He just wanted an excuse to touch you.”
“Ugh.” I sip my wine. “He doesn’t like me, he just wants to fuck me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because there is no conversation, it’s all about dick and vagina.”
“Which is an excellent topic by the way.” She taps her glass with mine. “I, for one, love a man who wants to talk about my vagina with me.”
I giggle. “Of course you do.”
“I think he has potential.”
“I’m twenty-nine years old. I don’t want a man with potential, I need a man who is fully potenched.”
“Right.” She nods. “Good point.”
“I’m not going to be a booty call, he either likes me or he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter regardless because I’m not worried either way.”
“Well, that’s ridiculous because we both know you are worried both ways plus another spare way.”
I giggle again. “Right?”
We keep wandering through the exhibition. “What’s going on with Raphael anyway?” I ask.
“Meh.” She curls her lip as if disgusted.
“What happened, I thought you liked him?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “He’s not doing it for me now.”
“This is becoming a pattern.” I frown. “Why do you only like them until you find out that they like you?”
She shrugs. “I guess I’m not interested in someone who has poor judgment.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Liking you is poor judgment?”
“Absolutely.” She nods as we stop in front of a giant painting of the sea. “I wouldn’t date me. Would you?”
“Probably not.”
“I’m a walking red flag,” she murmurs as she stares at the painting.
“Like someone else we know,” I reply as I stare at the painting too.
“Yeah, but he’s a hot, rich, red flag.”
“Worse. A hot, rich, red carpet.”
She laughs out loud again and I do too.
I love Helene, she always makes everything seem fun.
“I’m just saying,” she continues as we keep wandering, “I think you should give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he does like you and sex is his way of introducing some sort of contact between the two of you.”
“No.” I sigh. “I’ve already slept with him, I already know that I really like him. I can’t be his booty call. It will break me.”
“So what do you want from him?”
“Effort.”
“Like how?”
“Like ask me how my day was, go on a dinner date, take me dancing. Call me to say good night. Send me peonies, damn it, he can’t even stand here and talk to me without insinuating dirty talk.
” I shrug. “All I know is that I haven’t broken up with a nice guy to be used for sex. I’m at an age where I want more.”
“You want the fairy tale,” she murmurs, unimpressed.
“Yeah, and damn it, I deserve it. I’m a good catch, and if he doesn’t see that then I’m not lowering my standards just to spend one night with him. I’ve no interest in fucking around with bad boys.”
“Fine.” She widens her eyes. “More for me, I guess.” We keep wandering through the exhibition and she glances over to me. “So are you going to think about him all night?”
“Of course I am.”
PHILIPPE
I rub my hands together to try and warm them up, the morning is fresh on the marina. I glance at my watch as I stand with the two others on shift, we’ll be leaving soon.
“Hi.” Angelo walks over. “Cold morning.”
“Freezing.” I smile. Angelo’s a guard from a few yachts down. We all know each other and chat while we fill in time.
“I heard about your bonuses.” He lights a cigarette. “Is it true?”
“What do you mean?” I glance back at the Prescott yacht, still no sign.
“Word on the street is that your team got a three-hundred-thousand bonus last month. Each.” He widens his eyes. “Surely not.”
I chuckle. “Who told you that?” We actually got more, not that I’d ever tell.
“Seriously, man.” He blows a thin stream of smoke into the air. “I need you to get me a job. My boss is a fucking tight-ass. I get a miserable hourly rate with no extras.”
“Our team is full.” I shrug, I get hit up for jobs on the hour by every guard we meet. “Everyone wants to be on Prescott’s team, you’ll need to get in line. Nobody in their right mind would ever give up this gig.”
And why would they, we travel the world, our food and accommodation are included, and we get paid a criminal amount of money.
“Who has to die for me to get a job?” he jokes.
“Seriously.” I laugh. “It’s probably the only way.”
“That’s it,” a woman screams from the deck of a yacht down the marina. “I’ve had it.”
We all glance over to the York yacht. “At it again.”
More yelling, more fighting.
“Do they even like each other?” Angelo frowns as we watch on.
“I heard they’re getting married.” Stefan shrugs.
“Surely not. He can’t marry her.”
From the corner of my eye I catch sight of Edward walking out onto the deck.
“Got to go,” I tell Angelo.
“Get me a job,” he calls as he walks back to his post.
We meet Edward at the gangplank. “Morning, boss.”
“Morning.” He nods and walks past us; we fall in and walk behind him toward the waiting car.
More fighting echoes across the marina.
“I’m leaving,” she screams.
Edward gives the yacht the side eye. “Please. I beg of you.”
We chuckle as we walk.
“I have no idea what to do with you,” he calls.
“Tie her to the anchor,” Edward mutters.
We laugh again and arrive at the car and I open the back door of the Bentley. “Our flight to Zurich is on schedule, sir.”