“Ariana Carlson?”
I paste on a smile and twist in the direction of the gruff voice to my right. You never know whose tarnished reputation is in need of polishing, which is another reason why I don’t go around pummeling drunk, handsy dipshits in bars. I’m always on the job.
“Yes?”
Dark eyes crinkle in the corners as they narrow at me, full lips stretched into a tight line. Tall, menacing yet delectable, and built like a brick shithouse. I can work with this, provided he hasn’t killed anyone. I’m good, but I know my limits.
“You need to follow me.”
I snort and turn back to my assistant Layna, who’s waving a fifty at the bartender as she flirts madly with her boobs. “I don’t think so.”
He steps closer, completely invading my space, his breath hot against my ear. “My boss has a message for you. He’s asked to speak to you privately.”
A dry laugh escapes my lips. “Well, if it’s so important, he can get off his ass and find me himself.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Ms. Carlson. You’re about to have a very big problem, and only one person can solve it. I suggest you follow me. If you don’t, your very lucrative client list will dissipate like a fart in the wind by sunrise. That’s a guarantee.”
Chapter Three
JEFF
Her expression is stony and petulant. I can see it clearly from my vantage point in the back corner of the dimly lit lounge. Good. She’ll need to channel that anger and hostility pretty damned soon. Remo nods his head in my direction and she turns toward me, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed. I maintain a steady gaze, even though my eyes beg to rake over the luscious curves storming through the crowd. They are desperate to leer, but that’s not why I’m here.
I never make personal appearances for professional reasons. Ever.
But this situation requires an exception. Nothing will be left to chance, not this time.
Her tits bounce as she walks, high heels making her leg muscles flex with each step. The tight black dress wrapped around her body like Saran Wrap makes my cock twitch, and I grit my teeth. It’s gonna be a long night, and nothing about it is even remotely sexual.
Remo disappears like the good minion that he is, and Ariana Carlson stands in front of me, arms folded, accentuating the fact that she’s about to have a wardrobe malfunction if she squeezes her arms together any tighter. I can’t say I’d be sorry to see those tits up close and personal, but now’s not really the time. We’re on the clock, starting exactly thirty-seven minutes ago. I knew my nemesis would come out of his fucking hole sooner than later, and Ariana Carlson is the one person who can help me string up that bastard by the balls.
Finding her wasn’t much of a challenge, but convincing her that I’m not the enemy is going to take some finesse, something that doesn’t come naturally to me. Especially since that is exactly what I am.
“I don’t appreciate being summoned. Who the fuck do you think you are?”
I allow a smug grin to spread across my face. “I’m the one who got you over here despite that claim.”
Her mouth drops open and then quickly closes. “Make no mistake. I’m not intimidated by you or your thugs.”
“I’m aware of that. You’re here because you’re curious, and that’s good.” I pick up the half-full glass of scotch in front of me and swirl it around before taking a long sip. Impatience is creeping into her expression, and I know this cat and mouse shit isn’t going to work for much longer. “It might be better if you sit for this next part.”
“I’m fine right here.”
“I don’t think you want me to shout.”
She rolls her eyes and slams her hands on the table. A definite spark plug with a mouth that can spit fire. Fuck, that has so many possibilities…
“What makes you think I care?”
“Because if I mention a name that currently pays your firm $20,000 a month for representation, the same one who walked away with a very prestigious award tonight, it won’t bode well for you if anyone overhears why said name is in question.”
She sinks onto the leather bench, searing me with a glare that could slice through concrete. “Listen, you creepy mother fucker. I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’m about two seconds away from calling the cops. Don’t you dare try to dangle bullshit information in front of me and think I’ll give you the time of day!”
“Fair enough.” I pull out my iPhone and pick out one of the photos that I’d received. I hand it to her and watch the snark desert her body, deflating her with each second she stares at the image.
“How do I know this isn’t photoshopped?”
“Why hasn’t your client shown up yet? This is her after-party, isn’t it? Shouldn’t the hostess show up at some point?”
“She’s on her way.” Ariana’s shoulders are squared, her voice strong and assured. But it’s her eyes that betray her. They flash a lot of fucking emotion, none of which includes certainty.
“On her way where, exactly? Because from the looks of these pictures, she’s not leaving her current location any time soon.”
She leans closer, dropping her voice, practically seething at me. Her perfumed scent wafts under my nose - sultry, spicy, and sexy as fuck. It momentarily clouds the issue at hand, and like some jackass, I allow it. I want to see the fire deep within this woman. She’s about to combust, and I want to be singed by the flames. “You think you’re the first jackass photographer who’s shown me a hacked up picture of a client and expected me to write a check for it? If you’re looking for a payoff, I’ll have my attorney so far up your ass, it’ll feel like a colonoscopy without the anesthesia. Fuck off.” She flips her hair, the smell of coconut whipping across my face, and slides away from me.
I grab her wrist and her head jerks backward, her eyes narrowed. “Take your hand off me.”
“I can’t let you go, Ariana.”
“The fuck you can’t.” She pulls her wrist away, but I keep my grip tight.
“I need your help.”
“What you need is a class that’ll teach you how to deal with people.” She yanks again, to no avail. Answers are what she wants, but she can’t have them; at least, not yet.
“Here’s the deal, Ariana. If you walk away right now, you’re in for the biggest shitstorm you’ve ever experienced in your professional career. This problem your client has wandered into will snowball very quickly, and unless we get in front of it, your reputation will go up in smoke by the time the first headline flashes on the morning news.”
“Let go of my arm,” she growls. I drop it, partly to test her. Reading people comes pretty easily to me, and despite her bullshit I’ve-got-everything-under-control façade, I know she’s flipping the fuck out. And rightly so.
“Why should I trust you? I don’t even know your name.”
“Names aren’t important right now. And you should trust me because I’m the only one who can save the livelihood of your star client, America’s newest pop tart sweetheart, the one who’s on her knees right now with a dildo shoved up her skirt and a dick plugging her in the ass.”
Chapter Four
ARIANA
That image of Scarlet is seared into my memory forever. I’ll never be able to look at her again without seeing her head bobbing up and down, as if deep-throating that scumbag is going to land her another Grammy nod. My skin prickles, beads of perspiration popping up along the back of my neck. I can barely squeeze out a breath; my throat is so tight.
“Are you ready?” The vile man sitting across from me swirls the last of his scotch and gulps it down.
“Ready for what?” I gasp, dragging my eyes back to his face, whoever the fuck he is.
“To get your girl and her golden pussy out of the line of fire.”
My shoulders snap backward. “How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Waltz in there with my can of pepper spray and pull her off his saggy balls? I’m a publicist, for chrissakes! I don’t have a goddamned SWAT team ready to steamroll a
nyone who manhandles my clients!”
“Your alleged virgin clients.” He cocks an eyebrow, his dark-eyed gaze smoldering my insides. “Sounds like you’re about to lose your shit, and if you’ve got any shot of fixing this, you’d better keep it together.”
I swallow hard. He’s right. I’m about half a second away from crumbling like a stale cookie. “I need to assemble my team.”
“So you can do what, exactly? Make some phone calls, post some tweets…how is any of that going to save Scarlet? Or you?”
Okay. Time the fuck out.
“Don’t make this about me, you asshole. I’m not an idiot, and you’re sure as hell not going to bleed a dime out of me. I don’t respond favorably to blackmail.”
“I don’t want your money. But since your client has just pissed me off by interfering with a very lucrative business opportunity, we have an issue. Now, I can let her career - and yours - go up in smoke and enjoy another scotch while I watch you run around like a fucking lunatic, trying to snatch up all the pieces in an attempt to salvage them. Or, you can work with me and keep your thriving business intact. Your choice.”
The threat he so calmly spews chills my blood. “I’m not a fucking hacker! How am I supposed to keep this shit from blowing up the internet?”
“You have a colleague named Oliver Wilde.”
Ollie? “What about him?”
He narrows his eyes and pauses. “We should take this conversation somewhere else.”
I let out a snort. “I wouldn’t walk with you to the bar, much less go anywhere with you!” A shiver flutters over my skin as his deep-set eyes appraise me for what feels like years. And truth be told, I’m not the least bit bothered. Regrettably, I’m more turned on than I’d like to acknowledge, even multiple cocktails into my evening.
With a nod, he glances at the watch peeking out under what looks to be a Boss Black blazer. And that heady scent…Chanel Bleu, the one cologne that can make me do extremely bad girl things without so much as a drop of shame. “You have about fifteen minutes to change your mind and call your buddy. After that, I can’t promise that your office won’t be boarded up by the time you roll in tomorrow morning with your lightly sweetened iced Youthberry tea.” He reclines against the cushions, folding his hands on the table. Good God. The fact that he knows my Teavana drink order somehow escapes me while I admire his strong, thick fingers and massive palms. What he must be able to do with those magical tools.
Oh, Christ. Focus, Ari! I can be as big of a bitch as I want, but if there’s even a slight chance those photos are real, Scarlet’s entire career is at risk. I worked my ass off to put her in the limelight so my firm could have the legitimacy it needed. I can’t chance it. Scarlet’s my ace in the hole. Having her as a client validates everything I’ve worked for, and everything I’m building for the future. I’ll make the call.
“I don’t even know if I can get Ollie to my office in fifteen minutes. It’s after midnight!”
“Something tells me you won’t have an issue. I’ll meet you there.”
“The fuck you will. I didn’t get to where I am by taking orders from seedy thugs. If you think you’re coming anywhere near my office—“
“Don’t worry, your pal Ollie will vouch for me. I’m not seedy, nor am I a thug. And I only use my M-16 when people mouth off once too often.”
His eyebrow slides upward again, and I bite the inside of my mouth to keep from smiling when the corners of his lips curl upward. Asshole. As if this is any bit funny. “And who exactly should I tell is asking for him?”
“Just tell him Jeff is back in town to collect on a debt. He’ll know what it means.”
Yeah, but do I want to know?
Chapter Five
JEFF
I don’t wait for her response. She’s going to do exactly what I said because she’s scared shitless. Yeah, she tried to hide it. It was a pretty decent attempt, too. But I know what these star chasers are all about. Once you land one and they hit the top, you’re along for the ride. And that’s exactly where my new friend Ariana Carlson is headed. No way is she going to take any chances and blow her career at this point. Not after spending two years scrounging around for clients before finding a diamond in the rough with Scarlet. And despite all the “I’m waiting until I get married” bullshit, I always knew that actress bitch was a fucking whore. She can park cars between those tight ass legs. All that virginal crap got her a lot of fame, but no amount of groveling will erase those very disturbing images from the minds of her adoring public, that’s for shit sure.
Which is exactly what I’m counting on.
Coming back for Ollie is risky, since he has eyes on him at all times. He was part of my team, the one tasked with taking down the enemy. But shit went sideways, and instead of arresting said enemy, I ended up handcuffed in the back of a Town Car.
I’ve waited patiently, knowing the opportunity for revenge would eventually surface. The time is finally fucking now. I need Ollie’s help, and his panicked boss is going to make it happen. No doubt about that after the scare I’ve just delivered.
The cool night air is a welcome change from the fucking rain forest I’ve just escaped. My skull is pounding from the deafening music that was vibrating the whole club, celebrating the hits of all the winners from the evening. Except not one of them makes anything remotely close to real music. Not like the good old days, when actual instruments were used and voices weren’t created with a soundboard.
I palm my keys, open the driver's side door, and slide onto the pebbled leather. In my line of work, it’s best to fly under the radar, hence the reason I'm driving yet another piece of shit from Remo's fleet. I made him clean this one first, before I even agreed to go near it.
Ariana’s office is only a few minutes away, and I know she needs some time to figure out how the fuck she’s going to salvage both of their careers, with the bottle of Cristal swimming through her veins. I don’t give her any time. The panic will serve me well. It’ll ensure she acts without thinking too much. That’s a necessity. And Ollie will be waiting in the fish bowl conference room, ready to jump if she gives the word. He’s so blatantly infatuated with her that he’s given up any chance at a real career to stay close to the woman he will never in a million fucking years bed.
I throw the car into gear and zoom out of the parking lot. Even at this hour, the city streets are crawling with barely-dressed models and actress wannabes. They are loud, drunk, swinging their asses, and stumbling on the concrete in high heels. Pathetic. Guys flank them on all sides, desperate to cop a quick feel. I snicker and signal a lane change. Shit never changes. East Coast, West Coast, it’s all the same. Women always hold the power; most just never seem to realize it.
After a few minutes of dodging idiots crossing in the middle of Spring Street, I pull up to an open spot in front of Ariana’s office building. I run a hand down the front of my shirt and walk toward the entrance of the tall, mirrored, glass building. A large embossed sign greets me on the inside. Carlson & Associates. She’s come a long way since she first stepped onto the Hollywood scene. It’s impressive, especially in this town.
But my business is a revolving door. I, unlike Ariana, keep few trusted associates. And none of them have an ass as perfect as hers, or a set of tits I can feast on for days. This is just business. It’s always business, never personal, not since I lost so much of what made living worthwhile. Admiring is one thing, but dabbling doesn’t have a place anymore.
The lobby is bright and airy, even at night, with light marble colored floors and columns adorning the space. I walk down the corridor toward the elevator bank and stab the Up button. I don’t even look at the directory; I know her office is on the seventh floor. Lucky seven. Her favorite number, which is another nugget I’d gathered, courtesy of the eyes and ears.
Ding!
The elevator creeps up to the seventh floor and soundlessly, the doors open. The clear glass doors reveal a gaggle of computer geeks with their heads stuck in t
heir laptops, no doubt searching for any leaked photos of Scarlet. They haven’t even made it as far as a conference room; everyone is congregated in the reception area. Their fearless leader, who looks pretty fucking spooked right now, is commanding the charge, her fingers pounding away at the keyboard behind a large teak desk in the middle of the floor.
I pull open the door and everything stops. Ariana’s head snaps up, and her back stiffens. “We haven’t found anything online yet. Nothing’s been leaked.”
“Good.” Of course it hasn’t. “But I’m more interested in whether or not you’ve located Ollie.”
She narrows her eyes and pushes back the chair. “I think we should go into my office.”
I nod and wait for her to lead the way. She eyes me up and down, her expression a mixture of disgust, curiosity, and blatant desire; the latter making my dick twitch. She doesn’t trust me, as well she shouldn’t. But, she still wants me. And that pisses her off to no end.
Body language is my specialty. I can tell you that mine would have a hell of a lot to say right now if given the chance. With one final glare, Ariana twists away from me and stalks down the hallway to her office, her hips swinging with each click of those heels on the shiny marble floor. But as much as I’m enjoying the view from behind, it’s Ollie I’m waiting to see.
I follow her into the office and glance around at the over-the-top décor. There were enough overgrown plants lining the walls to create an alternate oxygen supply. And the art? The abstract splotches of color overwhelm the white walls, creating an aura of confusion and chaos. I guess it works for her clients. Bringing order to their crazy lives, or some shit like that. I sink into one of the plush leather couches in the center of the room.
“Please, have a seat,” she mumbles under her breath. She inches closer, hands on her hips. I can see the definition in her shoulders and biceps. Another tidbit I’d learned was that she’s single. No big shock there. I had her sized up in about five seconds flat. I swallow a snicker. Judging by the way she’s staring at me, I can see where it might be a little hard to scale those walls for some unsuspecting douchebag. She’d make the poor schmuck work for it, and then be disappointed when he didn’t live up to her expectations. Because he never could, and she’d never let herself get caught up with someone who’d be a constant disappointment. It’s much easier being in control of every aspect of her life. She runs her own show and nobody can challenge her.
Dirty, Dark, & Dangerous: A Contemporary Romance Boxset Page 32