by S. M. West
“Next time I’m taking you with me to keep my hunger in check.”
A hand strokes languidly from her neck to her butt and back again. She quivers and squirms. “Speaking of hunger,” she says, licking her swollen lips.
“Come, let me feed you.”
We sit up and I pick up our clothes, starting to dress. Now in her pantsuit, she lifts the front fabric, sliding one hand into the arm and about to cover her phenomenal tits when I lower my head to her pebbled nipples and lick, suck, and moan with one supple breast in my mouth. My lips trail kisses up her chest and neck as I stand to full height and turn her back to me.
“You come off proper and stuffy, but I know differently.” She wears a wry grin, glancing over her shoulder at me.
I arch a brow. “How so?”
“You like it dirty. Filthy even.”
I chuckle and lightly kiss her bare shoulder before tying the strings at her neck into a knot. “I missed your smart mouth.”
Twenty-Five
Zach
“Stall them,” I say flatly.
Gary, my most loyal employee and global scout, sits across the desk, fingers steepled and worry lines blanketing his brow.
“Sir, I’ve been stalling for two weeks already. I’ll keep at it but no guarantees. If they have another interested buyer, it’ll get dicey.”
He is a real estate agent for Rothwell, traipsing all over the world looking at prospective properties for my first hotel. Back from St. Barts, he has good news, or at least promising news, about a property I had my eye on last year.
We missed out on the sale because of funds, and now it turns out it’s on the market again. Last year’s purchaser seems to have run into some financial problems and put it up for sale.
Lucky me.
Well, if I can get the funds together before it’s snapped up. It’s only a matter of time.
A short, quick knock at the door cuts through my thoughts and Karen peeks her head into the office. “Excuse me, Mr. Rothwell, Ms. Hayes is here.”
“Bring her in.” I have no qualms about Paige joining our conversation.
Normally, the woman I’m sleeping with wouldn’t be involved in my business affairs. But this is Paige. It’s different. She’s different. My reason for needing my trust fund is no secret and more importantly, I don’t want secrets between us.
“Hello.” I stand and walk around my desk to place a light kiss on her sweet mouth.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She glances to Gary. “It’s just that I’ve only got thirty minutes.”
We’ve made lunch our thing since our spectacular reunion after my trip to Singapore. When we can, our noon hour rendezvous aren’t just about sustenance. We try to indulge in other things as well. Unfortunately, today there isn’t time for anything but food.
“You’re not interrupting. Gary Williams, this is Paige Hayes.” The two shake hands and she sits in the chair next to him.
“Your food will be here in about five minutes. Will Mr. Williams be joining you?” Karen asks.
“No thanks, Karen. I’m just about done.” Gary looks uncomfortable, not used to sharing information with anyone else.
My assistant closes the door and I lean on the desk, stretching my legs out to brush ankles with Paige. “Where were we?” I glance at Gary.
“Um.” He assesses both of us with an expression akin to a scared rabbit.
“You can speak freely in front of Paige.”
“Okay. I wasn’t…anyway, I’ll try to stall some more.”
“Find out if there are any other interested parties.” My lips press into a line and she arches a brow, imploring me to give more details. “There’s a property in St. Barts I want to buy so Gary’s keeping them warm for as long as we can.”
“And what if another party makes a bid?”
Gary laughs nervously, standing and looking to me for guidance. “Then we might need to let it go.”
“Unless.” She pauses, uncertain if she should continue in front of Gary.
“Unless I have my trust fund, and then we’re in the game,” I say.
“Well, sir, I’m going to leave you two to enjoy your lunch.” He shakes my hand and nods goodbye to Paige.
She stands, her back to me, watching him leave before facing me with a troubled expression. “Did he tell Donovan?”
I shake my head and clench my jaw. I’m dealing with Donovan later. “Let’s eat.”
“We can’t do this.”
“Do what? Have lunch?”
“Dupe your grandmother.” She frowns. “I happen to like her a lot and respect her. This isn’t right.”
I inwardly flinch but hide behind nonchalance. “Relax, it’ll be fine.”
“How can you say that? Is she even close to giving you your trust?”
Karen interrupts again and sets our lunch on the table. We stare at each other, neither moving nor saying a word, our conversation suspended until the door clicks shut behind my assistant.
“Nan and I haven’t talked about my trust in weeks.”
“Are you going to push her?” Her question is curious and sets me on edge.
“No, I won’t push her.” If I did, it would backfire. “She’ll make up her mind when she’s ready.”
“And is this,” she waves her hand between us, “even working?”
“Yes. We. Are. Working.” Somewhere along the way, when love came into play, I stopped questioning, strategizing, or caring about the success of our deal. “As for the business end of it, that doesn’t matter.” I hand her a sandwich and we sit side by side.
“What do you mean by that? Isn’t this why we’re together?”
“Is it?”
Pausing, she drops her food and her eyes fly wide open. “What’s going on? I’m completely confused.”
“Don’t be.” My finger rubs at the small crinkle forming between her eyebrows. “I asked you to separate the two after Montreal. I have and I hope you can, too. Just enjoy us. Enjoy this.”
With a kiss, I settle into my seat and eat. She stares for a while but says nothing before diving into her own sandwich. For the most part, lunch is easygoing and we talk about other things. But once in a while, I catch her looking at me as if I’ve lost the plot, but she doesn’t push the conversation any further.
When we’re done, I toss the wrappers into the garbage and Paige grabs her purse, getting ready to leave. “I’m going to be late tonight.”
“Why?”
“I have the last site visit. We’ve got to make a decision on the new venue for the gala.” She tries to keep the tension out of her voice but fails.
Almost every night this week, she’s taken the gala committee on venue visits and they still haven’t found the one. Even though she pulled the options together, with Morgan’s help, she hasn’t been wild about any of them, but with the benefit under two weeks away, they are running out of time.
“Where are you going tonight?”
“The parking lot off Cherry Street I told you about.”
I keep my expression neutral although I highly doubt a parking lot is going to work, but I keep my thoughts to myself. I don’t want to discourage her. She’ll figure it out. “And what’s wrong with the other venues?”
“We’ve visited the other spots that are surprisingly available. The pickings are slim at this late date but none of them are right. Some are way over our budget and others clash horribly with the purpose of the benefit.” She sighs and her shoulders deflate. “But at this point, I’m desperate and might just choose one of those if tonight doesn’t wow the committee.”
“Ah, well, it depends on what you mean by wow. They’ll definitely be speechless.”
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No. That’s not it. You know what you’re doing, and I trust your judgment. I know you didn’t ask, but my one piece of advice for you—you’re going to have to sell the parking lot to them like your life depends on it because none of them are going to get
it.”
“Great.” She raises her arms and drops them in exasperation. “I’m just going to call it off. We’ll go with one of the other locations.”
“No, you aren’t calling anything off.” My hands land on her rigid shoulders, gently loosening the tight muscles. “Text me the details and I’ll join you.”
“Thank you but you don’t need to come. If managing the foundation is going to be my full-time job—”
I interrupt, “Have you made up your mind on that?” My grandmother is driving me crazy as each day ticks by and Paige still hasn’t committed to the foundation job offer.
“No, and now isn’t the time. My point is, I can handle the board.”
I smirk, glad to hear it, but then she continues, sounding on the verge of defeat. “Besides, no matter the location, whether it’s perfect or not, I can pretty much count on one person complaining the loudest and longest.”
Our gazes lock and she pauses for effect, the silence prolonged before I finally ask. “Who?”
“Reagan.”
The mention of Reagan Hussey doesn’t please me. She’s an unforeseen wrench in things. If only her grandmother had stuck around this summer then Reagan might be off in Paris or some other glamorous locale. Paige hasn’t said much about Reagan, but Morgan has kept me well informed about how difficult my ex has been.
“Knock, knock.” Donovan pushes my office door open, sauntering in as if he owns the place. “Hey, how was Singapore? Did you get some sweet Asian pussy?”
My teeth grind together, and I exhale harshly. I’ve been trying to speak to him for a couple of days now but he’s been dodging me. This invitation isn’t a request but an order.
“Donovan.” I stand as he goes to take a chair. “Don’t sit. This won’t take long.”
His brows shoot to his hairline and he stiffens. “What’s going on?”
“Stay away from Paige.” My voice is cold and hard as steel and he steps back.
“What? What did she say?”
“Nothing. I don’t want you near her and not that this is any of your business, but our relationship is real.” We’re now almost nose to nose, so close I see the beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. “Got it?”
“Fuck, Zach, I didn’t mean to piss you off. What you do is your business.”
“Then why’d you say it?” I cross my arms, stepping farther into his space. He takes another step back. “Your father may be the chairman of our board and a man I respect, but don’t think it gives you the right to run your mouth and insult Paige or anyone else for that matter.”
“Okay, okay. I got it.” He raises his hands. “I’ll keep my mouth shut. Just so you understand, I meant nothing by it.”
“Zachary,” Nan says, waltzing into the room. “Oh, hello, Donovan.”
“Mrs. Rothwell, lovely to see you.” He plasters on a tight smile and bends to lightly kiss her cheek. “I was just leaving.”
“Oh, I hope you’re not going on my account.”
Before he responds, I say, “No, Donovan and I are done.”
Twenty-Six
Paige
They stand in silence. Stunned. Most of the gala planning committee have their backs to me and the tension builds in the air like a noose tightening around my neck.
I told Zach they didn’t intimidate me and for the most part, they don’t. But this could be the moment they realize they’ve made a huge mistake by letting me run the Rothwell Foundation’s biggest event of the year.
The stranglehold on my insides—it’s been there for days—intensifies and I swallow with difficulty, fighting to keep my anxiety in check.
Most days I feel like a fraud.
Between my fake relationship with Zach and this role as director of gala planning, something I’m highly unqualified for, I’m an impostor in my own life. It’s a sickening feeling, especially when I find myself falling for Zach. Believing our lies.
Some of the board members slowly spin around, eyes darting to the far reaches of the concrete parking lot. They are searching for what they obviously think I’m hiding—the reason why I brought them here in the first place—that one thing they all seem to think is missing. It’s written on their faces.
Right now, the only thing missing is my mind. I’ve lost all common sense. Why did I think they’d get it? That’s when Zach’s husky voice, from earlier today, echoes in my mind.
“…my one piece of advice for you—you’re going to have to sell the parking lot to them like your life depends on it because none of them are going to get it.”
He’s so right. Suggesting a parking lot is a far cry from some high-end ballroom. But I never liked the idea of a ballroom to begin with and when I got the call from the hotel telling me they couldn’t fulfil their commitment, a small part of me thought this was my chance to do it right.
Now I’m wondering how I got it so wrong.
Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
“Paige, is this it?” Cormac finally breaks the silence and all eyes land on me.
“It doesn’t look like much, but you’d be surprised how much this place can be made over with little effort. It’ll blow you away.” I’m lively, beaming at him as I clasp his arm in a silent plea to trust my vision. In turn, his countenance softens and the crinkles around his eyes and mouth smooth out as he nods.
“Blow us away?” Reagan stands away from the crowd with her hands on her hips. “We’re already blown away by your stupidity. You can’t be serious in bringing us all down here for this.”
“Reagan,” Cormac chides.
She twirls around in her pink two-tone Chanel suit and white kitten heels. Her hair is in a fancy chignon and next to her, in my cute cotton romper, I look cluelessly youthful and so out of place. And that’s the point, isn’t it?
I somehow fit in this abandoned parking lot at the end of a street bordering the lake, whereas Reagan doesn’t. And she isn’t the only one—neither do the rest of them with their haute couture. They’re better suited for a fine dining room surrounded by wealth and opulence.
“The location is fitting. Outdoors and surrounded by water.” I attempt my sales pitch.
The multiple light standards pop on, flooding the parking lot with bright white light, and we all blink a few times to adjust our eyesight. I don’t know if the lights are a good thing because now we can see everything, or if it’s worse because now we can see everything—the stark bare bones of asphalt, metal, and dirt.
“This is a waste of our time,” Reagan huffs, making eye contact with each person there, save me, ready to rally the troops.
A few committee members don’t need any persuasion, they are eager to leave and inch toward her, while most are uncertain as to what to do. Sympathy flickers in their eyes as they look to me before seeking out Nan for direction. She’s been unusually quiet, and now her expression is grave as her eyes sweep across the large, empty space.
Oh no, she isn’t behind my idea. She doesn’t have to utter a word; it’s written all over her face. “Paige, what were you thinking?”
Until that moment, I was confident in my vision. The parking lot isn’t pretty. Okay, it’s a freaking parking lot. Nothing to see here. But what I have in mind will transform this lot into a space befitting of a starry night.
I think of Zach again, his advice to me, and take a deep breath, prepared to sell my idea as if my life depended on it.
“Before you do something you regret, hear Paige out.” That familiar voice, deep, warm, and confident, flits over me and through me like the best kind of hug.
Peering over my shoulder, I spot Zach standing several feet away from us in distressed jeans hanging low on his trim waist and a tucked in button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled to just below his elbows. His hands rest casually on his hips and damn, his forearms. Flexed, taut, and veined.
My teeth drag the flesh of my bottom lip into my mouth as I fight the crazed desire to lick every single inch of his arms. Who cares what the committee think
s of me and who cares about the gala? I just want to touch him and it’s hard to care that we aren’t alone and I’ve got a job to do.
I love Zach in a suit—he can bring me to my knees—but when he’s casual, like right now, it’s as if he’s stripped bare for me. Along with no jacket and tie, gone is his reserved, professional façade—he’s showing me a part of him not many see.
Hot longing courses through my bloodstream with every one of his strides toward me, and it takes everything within me to focus on my task to win over the committee.
Stopping beside me, his hand slides to the small of my back, reassuring, and I’m stunned still because I’ve never felt like this before. Like I belong.
I belong with him.
His sexy, familiar aroma of leather and spice surrounds me and I find myself leaning in his direction. A mesmerizing blue stare weakens my knees, and he’s looking at me as if I’m the only one here, and I wish it were true.
I look up at him through my dark lashes, flushing, and then fill my lungs with fresh air before turning to face the jury. I’m so ready to make them see things my way. To bring them to the dark side.
Nan’s smiling, content to see her grandson at my side, and even Cormac and Maude devilishly grin like two toddlers up to no good.
“There are many good reasons why hosting Nuit Étoilée here would benefit the foundation. First off, it would be a significant savings. We could invest those funds in the cause or donate to the local charities we’ve wanted to support but weren’t able to.”
A few heads perk up and one or two even nod in approval at this news. Confidence surges through me as if Zach has gifted me his superpower.
“Secondly, our goal is to raise funds in support of water. We’ve pledged to help improve the world’s most precious resource, and what better message than holding the event surrounded by this city’s largest freshwater source—Lake Ontario.”
Again, a few more turn around to look at the water as if only just now noticing the lake. More nodding, and some of their body postures open to me. My last point is what I hope to clinch this deal with because I’m appealing to them through self-promotion.