Chapter 4 #2
"Fine." She places her phone up on the dash, dialed into the maps app. "Happy?"
"Yes." If I were a little girl, my nose would be in the air.
What is with this chick? I've never met a girl that got under my skin in this way before.
She is totally unimpressed, and it feels like she's got some preconceived notions about me or something.
She says nothing more as we pull up to the large, sandwich-board style sign, toting the previous owner, and indicating trespassing is prohibited. "This was previously owned?"
"Looks that way." Her voice is condescending.
"Fuck this. It's nothing but a vacant lot and we can't even take a closer look. I'll wait for Lucy to find out what's going on." I'm annoyed, and I want to unload this chick as soon as possible. "I'll take you back to the office and head out for lunch."
She's already pulling her phone off the dash mount, but I watch her key something into the map app, before she replaces it on the stand. "There. This is the property I was telling you about."
“I think I’ll just take you back to the office.“
She rakes a hand through her hair. My cousin Stevie once described what this type of cut is called.
It’s called a long shag. And the way that her hair feathers back and falls perfectly into place makes her look like a model.
I will myself to look back at the road, so that I don’t appear to think that she’s even the least bit attractive, despite the fact that she is a knockout.
“Indulge me, will you? Look, I’m not usually this bitchy, I promise.
Just let me show you this place, so that we can both keep in Lucy‘s good graces. "
I detect a certain something in her expression. Her face is softer, like she’s let her guard down slightly. I want to ask her if there’s something bothering her, but God forbid. She’s liable to just point out the fact that I really am the nosy type. “Fine."
I pull away from the curb and head back towards the highway, following the directions that the map is giving me. "So, what’s the deal with this place? Is it like a big haunted mansion or something?"
“If I tell you then there’s no point in me taking you there. Just humor me. It’ll be worth it."
Her phone pings with several text messages as we drive, but she ignores them. “Shouldn’t you check your phone?"
“It’s none of my clients and it’s not Lucy, so they can wait."
So, she’s got a story, does she? “Your boyfriend?"
She gives me a look, like I’ve just insulted her. “No. And let’s just leave it at that."
I laugh mirthlessly. “Okay then."
“I’m just a really private person, okay? The last time I spilled my guts to someone it ended up biting me in the ass."
I’m determined to get to the bottom of this.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am nosy. But you would be amazed at some of the stories that I overhear at the hotel.
Whether or not any of them are true is another story altogether.
Nonetheless, most people have no issue talking about themselves, as I’ve stated before.
Lark is different. I haven’t decided if that’s a good thing or a bad thing yet.
“You can share things without revealing everything, you know. I’ve learned how to tell the whole story without telling more than parts of it. "
“Good for you. Turn left just up here.”
When we pull up to the gate, Lark pulls her phone off the stand and accesses her notes function. She tells me the code, and the gate opens. As we make our trek up the winding driveway, I see the house off in the distance and immediately spot a quirk. “Am I drunk or is that thing fucking lopsided?”
“I’m impressed.” Although the way she says it, it’s like she’s disappointed that she’s impressed.
“There’s a first time for everything."
She chuckles flatly as we park near the front door. I watch her type in another code in the lock box that hangs from the door knob.
“What’s the story on this place, anyway? Did the foundation fail? Is that why you can’t unload it?"
“The previous owner tried to jack up the addition to put in a basement. That failed. The builder was sued. The owner cut his losses and moved. I reduced the price significantly, but everyone is afraid that the goddamn house is built on a sink hole or something, so nobody will buy it. It’s fully furnished, and it’s completely renovated on the inside.
It’s perfect, but every client that has walked through here has been too paranoid to make an offer. "
“But they could just remove the addition if they're so freaked out about it. Maybe a builder will buy it, since they would know the difference."
“Most of my clients earn seven figures or more. No builders are on that pay grade, I’m afraid."
“Do you have anybody lined up to take a look at it?"
She shakes her head. “Not in weeks. The owner tried renting it out before he put it up for sale, but everybody is too paranoid."
“That’s ridiculous."
She lifts her brows. “Do you want to buy it?”
“How much are you asking for it?"
She tells me. My personal housing budget is less than half that. I don’t go extreme, since a lot of my money is tied up in investments. “Way out of my price range."
She still seems annoyed. “Do you want to at least walk through the place?"
I shrug. “We’re here now. We might as well."
Aside from the obvious flaw, the place is perfect.
It’s fit for plenty of entertaining, with a grand room, a kitchen on the main floor and in the basement, which is complete with a wet bar and an entertainment room.
Upstairs has an office that overlooks a man-made waterway, like a duck pond, in the backyard.
The office is huge. I picture myself placing all my hotel models inside it.
All the replicas of the buildings that I own and that I want to build in the future conceivably.
There are plenty of walls for drawings and idea boards.
Outside of the office is a long hallway, lined with picture windows, and it holds a long, custom-made couch. On one end, there are three bedrooms, grand in size, and on the opposite end is the master bedroom, which has an ensuite library attached. "Jesus, this place is amazing." I exhale.
"It is. It's just got the one flaw, but otherwise, hell, I'd buy it if I had the money. And I may just have to, since my policy stipulates that if I can't sell it, I'll buy it myself."
We walk through the master bedroom, and I look out the window. "You can't convince the guy to lower the price."
"It's a girl, and no. But I may have some wiggle room if I get an offer that's way lower than the asking price.
" I turn towards her. She's staring at the man-made pond.
Her eyes practically glow green. Her hair is so natural, it has to be her own color, and she wears so little makeup.
I've never seen anything like it. "You mean you haven't even had an offer yet? "
Her eyes meet mine. "Not yet."
"Well, then, that I can help you with."
A flicker in those beautiful eyes. "Really?"
"Yeah, but it's a longshot. I can afford less than half the asking price."
"That'll do it."
"Draft me up an offer right now then. While we're here. Before I change my mind."
"What happens if she accepts?"
"Then I've got myself a slanted house."
She smiles and chuckles, cupping her face with her hands. "Are you fucking serious?" Her eyes widen and she retracts, coming out of her shell, lifting hand. "I'm so sorry!" She barks a laugh, apologizing for her unprofessional F-bomb.
"No, no. Don't apologize." I laugh. "I like this side of you way better."
Her cheeks turn adorably pink.
“Are you embarrassed? Because you shouldn’t be. If this is the real you, you should let that shine. The stuffy, self righteous version of you is not very, shall we say, palatable."
She smirks, but it comes out more like a half smile. “ I guess I was told for the longest time that I should always make a client feel like I am one up on them."
“It shows. But it also lands badly. You seem like much more of a fly by the seat of your pants kind of a person. Most people would relate to that type a lot better. But ultimately, you should just be yourself. And that little blunder of yours just showed your true colors. I like it."
She tilts her head slightly, to clear a lock of hair that’s out of place. “I thought that rich guys weren’t into girls with a potty mouth."
I fold my arms across my chest and nod once. “The pompous ones, yes."
Her eyes go to my chest, as she reaches for my hands, pulling them apart. I let her do whatever it is that she’s trying to do. “For a rich guy, you sure have a great body. You shouldn’t hide it."
The way she says it, it doesn’t come off as a come on.
It’s more like I just gave her a tip and now she’s reciprocating.
Her right-hand sweeps through the front of my hair, where I have it gelled back.
She loosens it with her fingertips, and I feel the hair frame my face.
“You look like way less of an asshole like that. You have great hair, and the mark of professionalism isn’t necessarily slicked back, but controlled. "
“Thanks for the tip."
Her eyes are on mine. I’m trying to read her, but it’s difficult. I can’t tell if she’s about to share another pointer with me or not.
But the second that my eyes moved to her lips, she moves closer. “Do you want to kiss me?"
“I don’t usually mix business with pleasure. I’m not sure if that would be such a great idea."
“Answer the question." She asks me again.
“How about I ask you the same thing? Do you want me to kiss you?"
“I don’t usually mix business with pleasure." She mirrors me.
As it turns out, it’s more about us being on the same page, then it is being right or wrong. And at this moment, in my peripheral vision, I can see her chest rising and falling ever so slightly faster. “I think this time we can make an exception."
Her arms snake around my neck, as her lips envelop mine.
Her tongue desperately searches for mine.
The moment there is contact, my cock wakes up.
The groan cannot be helped. Her knee reaches my thigh as she claws her way up my body, so needy, so hungry.
It’s disarming. My hands grip her fine ass.
I cup it, pulling her to me, letting her feel what she’s doing to me.
And I know that we are in deep, deep trouble.
Her lips don’t leave mine as she tears open my suit jacket, tossing it on the floor, and then she claws her way, desperately, unbuttoning my shirt, until it joins my jacket.
It takes a matter of seconds for all of our clothes to be pulled on the floor together.
She tastes like no other. My lips and tongue glide over her body, like I’ve been hiking through the desert, and she’s my only water supply in days.
The want for her is so great, and coupled with her obvious desperation for me, dangerously, we both search for the forbidden fruit quickly.
The bed shakes, her body quivers, and we both cry out loudly.
Every wiggle, every squeeze, every pulse, brings me so close, so fast. My lips are on hers when I feel her body shake as her insides suck me so hard, and I can’t hold on any longer.
I come so hard inside her, feeding her need, as I feed my own.
Spent and completely winded, I rest my head on her shoulder, feeling her chest rise and fall rapidly with mine.
It’s not until I hear her swallow that I exit her and turn onto my back. We lay there catching our breaths, until I turn my head to face her. “Tell me you didn’t just bring me here to do that." My eyes dance as she looks at me.
She smiles, a lock of hair is tangled at her ear. I reached over and smooth it. “You are such an asshole." She chuckles.
And that's when I realize just what kind of trouble that we're in.