Tasty

1. First Came… Casamigos?

FIRST CAME… CASAMIGOS?

Mr. S.

“You serious right now?”

The bourbon sat heavy in my hand, condensation slipping down the glass onto the bar top.

I wasn’t even in the mood to drink, but it gave me something to do while I listened to my brother disappoint me… again.

On the other end, Marcus exhaled as if he’d been carrying the weight of the world all damn day.

“I’m sorry, man. Something came up and I just can’t make it tonight.”

I swirled the ice, let it clink against the sides of the glass. “Something always comes up with you.”

“Don’t start,” he said. “You know my schedule’s not like yours. I can’t just take a night off whenever I want.”

I let that slide because even he knew that was a bold-faced lie.

“I ain’t askin’ for a night off, Marcus. I asked for an hour. One hour with your brother who flew across the fucking country.”

“Mar—”

“Nah.” I cut him off, staring past my own reflection in the mirrored wall of liquor bottles. “I’ve been sittin’ at this hotel bar, waiting for an hour like a clown, and for what? Nigga, I had to call you! You couldn’t even tell me earlier you weren’t gonna make it?”

Silence.

Then a low, tired sigh. “I thought I could. I really did. But the meeting ran over, then dinner with a client—”

“Ohhh. Okay, so fuck me and my time,” I muttered in annoyance.

“Don’t be like that.” His voice softened, but it didn’t reach me. “We’ll do drinks tomorrow. My treat.”

I laughed without humor. “One. I ain’t one of the broads you cheat on your wife with, I don’t need you to pay for my drinks.”

He groaned. “Why you always thinking somebody cheating on they wife?”

I ignored that. “And two, tomorrow is the Launch party. You know that.”

“Fuck, that’s right.”

I took a sip of my watered-down drink. “I’m guessing I won’t see you there?”

Another pause.

“Of course.”

“Brother,” he said finally, “you know I want to see you. I just—”

“You just can’t make the time.” I pushed my glass away, signaling the bartender for another even though I didn’t need it. “Don’t worry, I’ll stop askin’. Save us both the back-and-forth. Take care, Marcus.”

Before he could answer, I ended the call and shoved the phone into my pocket. When the bartender finished pouring, I took a slow sip, letting the bourbon burn all the way down.

Now I felt like a little bitch.

The bar was emptier then when I first arrived and I leaned back in my chair, people watching as my mind swarmed.

Marcus and his bullshit excuses can go to fucking hell for all I care.

What kind of man invites his brother out for drinks and doesn’t even show up?

And if you can’t show up, why not call and say so?

Why do I have to call you?

I’m a grown ass man. I ain’t the little kid who sits on the porch waiting for his daddy to come pick him up anymore but it seems Marcus and his father have forgotten that.

Couples laughed over cocktails, some guy in a suit pitched his business idea too loudly at the corner booth, and none of it touched me.

I massaged my temples and sighed as the irritation rolled over me.

If I had known he would pull this shit, I would’ve stayed upstairs. I could’ve gone over tomorrow’s events with my team one more time. I could’ve had drinks with Dillon instead and actually gotten work done.

I wish I had something to take this frustration out on. Maybe I could find some hotel bar pussy.

Nah.

Enough of my expectations have been crushed for the evening, so unless it falls into my lap, I ain’t going.

I was ready to toss some cash on the counter and head upstairs to be alone for the evening but when the bar doors swung open, my plans changed.

The emptiness of the bar filled instantly with laughter and the clicking of high heels.

I looked over my shoulder, interested in the source, when two young women walked in. Their perfume announced them before they even reached the bar, that and their height.

Squinting, I tried to see their faces, but was defeated as I left my glasses in my room for appearance. One of them, the taller one of the already towering women, had a little dog tucked under her arm.

But… is that really a dog?

The thing looked less like a dog and more like a goddamn rat.

“Two shots of Casamigos, please!” The woman announced, her voice loud enough to carry through the entire bar. Her accent wasn’t that of a native. Still, by the way her hair hung down past her ass, I knew she came from money.

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Ma’am, you can’t have that dog in here.”

I smirked into my glass.

Damn right. Get that ugly shit the fuck out of here.

“Please?” she pouted, tilting her head as she placed her purse on the counter and sat on the barstool.

Next to me.

What if I was allergic to the flea bag?

I was tempted to voice my concerns, but held back in case she was pretty.

“He’s a service dog,” she offered. “For anxiety. I promise he’ll behave.”

As if on cue, the mutt scrambled from her arm to her lap and sat. I could tell that was bullshit, but unfortunately, the bartender couldn’t. That, or like the rest of the occupants, he was too busy staring at her chest.

He sighed finally.

“Fine. But if he causes any problems, you gotta go.”

She bounced with excitement and her friend plopped down next to her, both equally excited that they had gotten their way, like they were probably used to.

“Thank you, handsome,” she purred, flashing him a smile. With that, she tucked her bronzed hair behind her ear and exposed her side profile.

Now that she was closer, I could really get a good look at her.

And yeah—she was fucking gorgeous.

Copper-colored skin that looked like it had never seen a day of stress, titties that sat perfectly in that top, long hair past her perfect ass, and legs for days.

She had ‘expensive’ written all over her, right next to the words ‘off’ and ‘limits’.

She looked twenty-four, twenty-five at most. Definitely too young for me, but she carried herself like she was older.

Older but not mature.

Giggling, she and her friend waited until the bartender finished pouring their shots before they raised their glasses and clanked them together.

“To summer in Milan! Hot beaches, hot men, and very very hot sex!”

My eyebrow cocked at their declaration but the men around the bar all gawked in awe. I realized I was considered one of them when she tipped back her shot in one smooth motion, slammed the glass down, and then turned her head slowly and caught me dead-on.

When our eyes met, the entire bar went quiet.

Fuck.

Maybe gorgeous was an understatement. But also… familiar?

“I’m sorry. Are we disturbing you, Mister?” she purred, lips curling in a smile.

My eyes go to her lips, pretty teeth in an even prettier mouth.

A very pretty mouth indeed.

“Not at all,” I muttered then went back to maintaining eye contact.

She cocked her head slightly, “Well, you’re staring down my throat so can I help you with something?”

I didn’t bother looking away from those very dark and very sultry eyes. “Yes. You can actually.”

A slight smirk of amusement played in her features.

“Yeah?” she asked, giving me her full attention. “How can I be of service?”

A million answers ran through my mind, and not one of them was pure. I chuckled low, leaning on the bar. “Let’s start off simple. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Those midnight eyes glittered. “For tonight? Desire.”

Her friend snickered beside her, shaking her head at the foolishness. I chuckled too, since the drinks and her antics were doing wonders for my mood right now.

“Aight, Desire,” I said, rolling the name on my tongue. “How about the shots are on me?”

The friend opened her mouth quickly. “Thank—”

But Desire shut her down with a raised hand.

“If you’re paying,” she said smoothly, leaning closer to me, “I want to add something a little more expensive.”

She was taught well.

I let a slow smile stretch across my face, lifting my glass in her direction. “Then order it.”

She pouted with fake concern. “You sure? It’s really expensive.”

I looked her over again, letting my eyes roam from the curve of her waist to huge, white diamonds in her ears. Everything about her screamed money—a slightly unbuttoned silk blouse tucked perfectly into high-waisted yet revealing trousers with gold bracelets stacked on her wrist.

But she wasn’t flaunting her wealth, she was testing me to see if our lifestyles aligned.

I smirked. “I’m sure.”

Reaching out slightly, I tried to get closer, but the little rat—excuse me, the fuck ass dog—barked at my hand like it had just spotted a predator.

I froze, pulling back as she laughed. I didn’t get what was funny, ‘cause if that dog touched me we would’ve had an issue in this bitch.

“Ma’am,” the bartender scolded. “I warned you about the dog.”

“I’d love a glass of Sucré,” she ignored him and turned the atmosphere around smoothly, commanding without being overbearing.

Sucré, huh?

She dropped my company name as if it were casual. Well, technically, it was me and my business partner’s company but who was she to know that? She was an enjoyer of our product, and that was good enough.

My smile returned.

“Good taste,” I said, signaling the bartender closer with a nod.

“So I keep hearing,” she replied as she pet the growling dog, trying to calm it. “Shh, Chewy.”

Okay. That motherfucker’s got to go.

“Bring me a bottle of Sucré,” I asked the bartender while keeping my eyes on her and that cockblocking mutt.

Her brows rose in surprise. “A bottle, huh?”

I nodded.

“We’ll split it,” I announced, my tone smooth because I already knew this was going exactly where I wanted it to go. So did the men around me apparently, because the group around us groaned in frustration. Any chance they had of swooping in had evaporated with that declaration.

Her voice was warm, “Okay.”

Exactly.

Her friend—who I already forgot about—caught the hint immediately and cleared her throat before getting up from her seat and grabbing the rat.

“Thank you for the drink,” she said while giving Desire an air kiss. I could hear her faintly whisper in her ear, “I’ll see you back in the room, okay? Keep your location on.”

Then she turned and left with haste that made me question how often her friend did this for their routine to be down packed.

I kept my eyes on Desire as the bartender opened the bottle and poured our glasses. She lifted hers, holding it up to the light inspecting the vintage, inhaled, swirled, then took a delicate sip.

“You know your shit,” I said, impressed despite it being obvious she would.

“I should,” she said, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “It’s basically part of the family business.”

I should have asked what that meant, tried to suss out if she was loaded trust-fund rich or a part of a competitive company, but I was too focused on the way her lips wrapped around the glass.

“Oh! Where are my manners?” she said suddenly, lifting the glass toward me. “Cheers to you, mister…”

“Mr. S. Will do,” I replied, clinking my glass gently against hers.

“Got it. Mr. S.,” she said, lips twitching as she let the name roll off her tongue.

We sipped, keeping our eyes locked, tension coiling between us.

“So,” she asked, her voice soft now, “you staying at the hotel?”

I raised an eyebrow. While I knew where this was going, I didn’t expect it so soon.

But since we’re here, “I am.”

Her grin was sly.

“There’s a big party tomorrow night. Are you here for that?” She thought she was subtle.

Cute.

I let the corner of my mouth twitch, “I might be.”

Her grin widened. “Well. Do you have any other plans for the evening?”

I exhaled sharply, leaning back slightly.

“You ask a lot of questions. Too much, in fact.”

“Oh?” she asked.

“Yes. And it’s completely unnecessary,” I said, voice low. “We both know this conversation ends two ways.”

“Only two ways?”

“Yes,” I answered plainly.

“And what ways are those?”

So many fucking questions.

“Either you use those pretty-ass legs to walk out the door, or you wrap them around my face. Choose.”

She paused mid-sip, looking at me with widened eyes, then she laughed.

“You’re pretty straightforward, aren’t ya?”

“Only when I gotta be,” I said, eyes locked on hers. “Choose, Ms. Desire.”

Her grin didn’t falter, and I could tell she loved the game as much as I did. Instead of replying, she signaled the bartender over and requested the check.

I raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop her.

When the slip came, I paid without hesitation—$1,077.89 on a bottle we didn’t even finish.

Not gonna look good on my expense report.

“You’re well off,” she said, arching one perfectly shaped brow as she watched me hand over my card.

“You’re observant,” I replied.

Her eyes sparkled, but there was a hint of calculation behind them. The me who wasn’t buzzing from being stood up and brimming with drinks would’ve been curious about that, but the only thing on my mind was getting fucked.

I nodded my head toward the exit, she grabbed her purse and led the way out.

As we moved away from the bar, keeping a noticeable distance between us as we walked, I felt every ounce of tension thrumming between us. She wasn’t new to this.

She’d done it before, and she’d done it well.

By the time we reached the elevator bank, she pressed the main call button. I chuckled under my breath and pulled my room key from my pocket, pressing it against the wall to summon a private elevator. Looping a finger into the waistband of her trousers, I pulled her close as the doors chimed open.

For a fleeting second, her eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t step back. She got in first, and I followed, letting the doors slide shut behind us.

Once inside, she pulled a compact from her purse and leaned forward slightly, checking her makeup. Her fingers were delicate and precise, tracing the curves of her lips and the edges of her eyeliner.

“So,” she said, without looking at me, “Mr. S… Is this usual for you? Picking up women in bars?”

“Depends,” I answered coolly.

“On?”

“How pretty they are.”

She tilted the compact so she could see me in the reflection, eyes narrowing just slightly, trying to measure how much of a lie that was. “You’re not being serious, are you?”

I scoffed, tired of all these damn questions.

I leaned against the mirrored wall, crossing my arms casually. “Is there a point to all these questions, or are you just trying to make conversation, ‘cause I’d rather you didn’t.”

She rolled her eyes and closed the compact. “Fine. I’ll stop asking questions.”

“Thank you,” I sighed just as the elevator chimed out in my suite. “Come in.”