by Adair Rymer
What the fuck was I doing? I brought her here to do a job. The sex was always secondary. So why was I so stuck on this one girl? There were so many other girls here, usually I’d have cut my losses and moved on by now.
But I didn't want any of them. Maybe it was the spoiled child in me, but I wanted only her. I wanted every goddamn flexible inch of her. I wanted to grab a fistful of her hair drag my tongue down her neck. I wanted to eat her pussy, and taste her juices as they ran down my chin. I wanted all of her.
I only had a taste of Claire, I wasn't done with her yet. I needed more.
Bianca waved at me. I toyed with the idea of just walking away like Claire had, but I didn't have the same luxury. I could be flippant with so many things, but this meeting was important. With Claire gone, I'd to play this conversation very carefully.
I took a breath, put my thoughts in order, then, walked over to the terrible couple.
“Trouble in paradise, huh?” Chance smirked, sizing me up. He was a ram, making a challenge for leadership status. “Claire can be a handful, although I never had any trouble keeping her in line.”
An outsider would probably think two manwhores like Chance and I would have a lot in common. But that just wasn't true. From the way Claire reacted to seeing him, I could tell that the laid back image he had was a lie to get into girl's panties. I had enough practice around guys like this to know that they were really just insecure sadistic fucks.
“Hello, Bianca.” I ignored Chance.
Chance bristled at not being addressed. The best way to rob a wannabe alpha male of their power was to refuse to acknowledge them.
Seeing the look of pain on Claire's face bothered the shit out of me, and knowing that this was the guy that gave her that look, pissed me off. Feeling protective of anything was a weird, new experience for me. But, then again, so was the concept of a second date.
Granted, that part wasn't going great.
“You're late,” which was her normal greeting for me. “Quite the party you have here, Maynard. I'm always impressed at your creativity in wasting our parent's money.”
“It's called 'fun.' You should try it sometime, Bianca.” I'd have loved to kick both Bianca and Chance out of my party, but that just wasn't an option. Bianca had way too much control over my life as of late. That wasn't something I was used to, having Claire here was supposed to help me stop that. “What brings you to my hotel, this evening?”
I knew she was coming, of course. We'd made the bet exactly one year ago, there was no way she would miss this.
“You know why I'm here, little brother. And to be perfectly honest I'm insulted.” Bianca had been playing the guilt card so long now that I doubt she even realized she was even doing it anymore. The corner of Bianca's lips cracked upward slightly, it was her equivalent of a knowing smile. “Where is your lovely fiance?”
“She's feeling a bit nauseous. Give her a little time and she'll recover.” I eyed Chance. “Soon, I doubt she'll even remember what made her sick in the first place.”
I didn't bother waiting for his reaction, I turned my attention back to Bianca. I was here for my sister, not for him.
“Poor dear.” There was no emotional investment in her voice, Bianca said the words as if she were ordering wine at a restaurant.
“You sound awfully torn up about the whole thing. You need a minute?” I prodded her, exposing the absurdity in her pretend emotions.
“Fine. Let's cut to it, shall we?” Bianca was never any good at the concerned sibling act. The ruthless CEO took over. She opened her briefcase and pulled out a document. “Feign all you want, but I know you remember our agreement. Don't you think it's time to put this charade to rest? Be reasonable, Maynard. Sign over the hotel to me now, and I'll even allow you to keep the top floor.”
“You know that I've never been all that reasonable.” I refused to accept the paper. It was hard to believe it had been a full year since I agreed to that deal. I still kick myself for that decision. Drunken pride always had a way of running my life. “Did you see the horses?”
“Why do you insist on prolonging the inevitable?” Bianca put the contract away, not wanting it to get wrinkled. She put her hands on her hips and leveled an annoyed stare at me. “We both know you're not going to marry that girl—”
“Marry Claire?” Chance chuckled at that. “She's good for a ride every once and a while, but c'mon...”
“Or any girl for that matter.” Bianca shot Chance a look that quieted him. Bianca didn't care about Claire either, but she never tolerated being interrupted. Chance didn't respect women, and Bianca didn't respect anyone. They were certainly a perfect match. “Go find me some water.”
Chance lingered, long enough to make it look like he was leaving because he wanted to and not because he was ordered to. But once he was gone, Bianca turned back to me. “So stop wasting everyone's time.”
“I'm surprised at you, Bianca. Emotional warfare? Are you that worried I might win?” I cocked my head toward Chance, who was already talking up another girl. “How did you even know to look for him?”
I was stuck on that look Claire gave me before she left. It wasn't anger, or even betrayal, it was worse than that. Her eyes were filled with tears and resignation. She saw the shallow, self-serving man I was. That wasn't a revelation to most people, I'd always presented myself that way publicly.
When no one expects anything from you, it's impossible to disappoint them.
If that was true, then why did it bother me so much? I stood on the precipice of losing everything and it was Claire and that look that was at the front of my mind. I hated being seen that way by her.
“I saw the way you looked at Claire during the tour I gave you of my college. I also own the bar you two had drinks at last night. With a few inquires and I knew everything about her.” Bianca crossed her arms, and lightened her expression a little. “Despite what you may think, I don't revel in the pain of others, Maynard.”
“What you did to her obviously doesn't bother you. Claire isn't a board member of a company that your about to take over. She's just a sweet girl, that didn't deserve you shitting all over her.” I let that sink in, before continuing. “But hey, as long as the ends justify the means, right?”
Bianca didn't answer right away. Eventually her face hardened again. “Regardless, I will have our parent's hotel.”
“No, you won't.” Our family made it's fortune on real estate, but it all started with this hotel. I had no idea why it was left to me in the will, but I refused to lose it to Bianca.
“You don't care about this place. It's just a playground to you. You're still that same spoiled child you always were, Maynard.” Bianca shook her head at me, disapprovingly. Carelessness and excess were always my armor. They insulated me from ever getting hurt by anyone. “What would our parent's say if they saw what's become of you?”
“I wouldn't know, on account of them being dead for the past decade.” I cursed the words, unable to prevent myself from saying them. My expression soured even before she spoke, I knew what was coming.
“They did love you. They loved you to death.” Bianca sharpened the words to a fine point, and slipped it right through my armor. Ten miserable years later and she still blamed me for what happened to them.
The worse part was that she was right. Our parent's death was my fault.
“Still,” Bianca continued, knowing that she'd made her point. “You have built an impressive monument to yourself with this hotel. I look forward to seeing it actually make some money for a change.” Her eyes narrowed. “When I take it from you.”
I may not have let on, but I was very worried. Bianca threatened my whole way of life.
“Oh, shit!” Chance smirked, like this was a rap battle and I had just gotten burned. He handed Bianca a water then popped the top on his own beer.
“Can you muzzle that thing? I know you like them dumb, Sis, but loud too?” I didn't bother speaking to him directly. Chance puffed his chest at the insul
t and was about to shout back at me, but Bianca stopped with a glare. “As for the hotel, we both know that I have until the end of the night to sign or shred our bullshit deal. So if you'll excuse me, I'm kinda doing a thing here.”
I'd gone a few steps, then turned back to Bianca. I made sure to speak loud enough for both of them to hear. “I don't have many rules here in my hotel, but you make sure your dog is housebroken.” I shifted my heavy stare directly at Chance. “I'd hate to have to put him down.”
Not even Bianca could stop Chance from barking at me as I walked away, but I wasn't listening. My mind was already on other things. I only had a few hours left to get my shit together, and sort all this out. Not that I had any ideas how I was going to fucking do that.
I really needed a drink, and a fuck, then I needed to find a way to save my goddamn hotel from my harpy of a sister.
But above all else I needed to find Claire before she left.
Chapter 5
Claire
Where the hell were all the damn bartenders?
How could such a massive party not have any? Nearly everyone had a drink, but there were no standard bar areas. I didn't understand how any of this worked. Why did the ultra rich have to do everything so counter intuitively? It was all so frustrating!
I wandered around for a while aimlessly, just trying to calm down. Did Maynard know that Chance was going to be here?
Maynard had an infuriating way of keeping me guessing. Every time I thought I had him figured out he'd act the complete opposite way. He kicked that model couple out because they were mean to me, then he got insulted in the elevator. Maynard inviting someone like me in the first place didn't even make sense!
What should I do now? Should I just leave? He told me I could, but that was before I took his hand in the elevator. He already paid me, there was nothing stopping me from leaving.
Still, that look he gave me when he thought I'd turned down his offer was stuck in my mind. That sorrowful look melted me. Was that why I was still here? To see if there was more to the man than he let on...
Ugh, I wanted to scream! I hated feeling like this! I'd done all this with Chance, I couldn't stand doing it again!
And to top it all off I couldn't even get a fucking drink!
Finally I spotted a hotel employee walking around with a handcart loaded up with several cases of alcohol. I followed him to what looked like a newspaper kiosk. Each room had one of these, but I just thought they were part of some theme I hadn't understood.
I should've known that they weren't there as a social commentary about how print media was dead. No, they were filled with alcohol. I felt a little silly for not figuring it out faster.
The waist high front shelves had every beer I'd ever heard of and far more that I hadn't. The back shelves were chock full of spirits so expensive in regular bars that I'd never dared to ask about them in case even the questions costed money. Between the two shelves was a small table with every mixer I could imagine.
“Um, excuse me?” I asked the man restocking the empty beer shelves, he stopped and smiled attentively at me. “Do you know when the bartender will be back?
“There are no bartenders. We encourage guests to make their own drinks.” The man said, almost apologetically. I could tell he wasn't used to Maynard's way of doing things either. “But, I know a few recipes, I might be able to make you something. What would you like?”
Why would Maynard have all this liquor, then force guests to make their own drinks? I snorted to myself, just another in the million questions I had about that man. I wish I didn't think about him so much. It seemed that he'd been on my mind constantly since I met him. It was even difficult to focus on my research at work today, because I couldn't get his damn blue eyes out of my head.
“Uh, sure.” I snapped out of my daze. While searching around all this time for a drink, I hadn't given any thought to what kind of drink I wanted. I just asked for the first thing that popped into my head. “Uh, sex on the beach, if you can, please?
I almost cringed at my selection. Maynard was still on my mind, so of course I'd be thinking of sex...
“We don't have a beach up here, but I can clear everyone out of the fountain room—” The thick voice behind me wafted through me like satiny smoke. The same way it had when his sweaty, rock hard body was on top of me, whispering sexy promises. I turned quickly to face him, suddenly feeling the fabric of my panties rubbing against my swollen clit. “If you want to get wet.”
Maynard thanked the employee, dismissing him with a casual wave. I struggled to push the image of Maynard's corded muscles dripping with water, from my head. Damn him.
“You startled me!” I hoped that was enough of an excuse to explain the sudden flushness in my face and my rapid pulse rate. I didn't want to be this turned on near him, since I was still pretty angry.
“I've always liked a 'slow comfortable screw', care to try one?” Maynard grazed my shoulder as he walked by me. The combination of his heat, slight pressure and scent as he passed, raised the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. It reminded me just how torturous that elevator ride with him was.
“Why don't you go 'comfortably screw' yourself,” I said, with as much indignation as I could manage. The threat came off too much like an actual question than a curse. I was still too off-kilter from his abrupt arrival to have the tone I wanted.
“I haven't had to do that in quite awhile, shit I might have forgotten how.” Maynard flipped liquor bottles around like a fancy mixologist, pouring two drinks smoother than anyone I'd ever seen. “You mind giving me a refresher?”
It occurred to me why he didn't have bartenders. This was part of the show. He would inconvenience a whole party just to be able to show off a little bit more. He was truly unbelievable.
Spitefully, I grabbed a regular beer off one of the chilled shelves and drank that instead of the beautiful drink he'd prepared for me.
If my rebellious act bothered Maynard, he didn't show it. His smirk widened as he carefully topped each drink with a splash of orange juice, then abandoned them to grab himself a beer as well.
“Why did you invite me here?” I scoffed at his doesn't-matter-to-me gesture. “Are you trying to torture me? Are these the kinds of games that bored rich people play?”
“The only torture I like is in the bedroom.” He shrugged. “And is it really torture if you beg me for it?”
Wow. He was laying it on awfully thick, even for him. I'd already told him I wasn't sleeping with him again, but that didn't stop Maynard from switching into overdrive mode
“Just cut the crap, will you?”
“Why should I?” Maynard took a sip of his beer, a quizzical expression on his face. “You're the one that bailed on me when I needed you.”
“I didn't know Chance was going to be here.” Heat rushed to me again, but this time it was because I was getting upset. “Seeing my ex-boyfriend changed the situation”
“What changed the situation was you deciding to fuck me over.” Maynard's eyes narrowed at that. “Do you have any idea, what position you put me in?”
“Are you really this shallow?” I was sorry for the way I left, but did he really chase after me just to attack me? “I was hoping that at least some part of this—” I waved my hand at his meticulously cultivated image. “—Was an act. Do you give a damn about anything other than yourself?
“Why the fuck should I?” Maynard's voice was almost too low to hear, but became louder as he continued. “Women come and go. And people you care about, die.”
Maynard's face darkened like a lone cloud blotted out the sun above him, his perfect, careless playboy exterior finally cracked. The background music and chatter in the room evaporated into steam as Maynard's voice got louder. Everyone stopped what they were doing and gawked. Some people took out their phones to record the melt down, and others just left because of the awkwardness.
“This hotel is the only fucking thing I have. It's all I care about!” Maynard screamed at the r
oom full of people, then threw his beer bottle at the balcony's glass wall. The whole pane of glass came crashing down, and shattered in a brilliant display. When all the noise ceased, and it was quiet enough that my own thoughts were deafening, Maynard finished his thought. “And now that's gone too.”
I felt like a statue, all the anger I had just a moment ago drained away. Maynard Cooper was more a symbol than a man. I could only imagine what the media was going to do to him once all these cellphone videos of him losing his temper, hit the internet.
Maynard made his way through the shattered glass and out on to the large balcony.
Seeing all the rage and pain in Maynard's eyes, part of me felt like I was watching a Greek tragedy. He didn't come off as the type that flies off the handle at the drop of a hat, there had to be more going on.
Maynard was losing his hotel, when did that happen? Did I somehow play a part in that by not going to that meeting. Even if I did, what was one hotel to a billionaire? What had happened with his sister that changed him so much?
No one went to talk to him, to see if he was alright or even to find out what had happened. For several agonizing minutes I stood alone in the middle of the room and watched as everyone filtered out. Music and laughter flooded into the room from the open door. The rest of the party rolled on unchanged.
In the time I'd been with him, I had seen Maynard greet many people as a host, but none as friends. Most people seemed to only know him by name or reputation, I didn't get the impression that anyone really knew him.
In a sense, he was alone in a sea full of admirers.
I tried to decide what I should do next. Certainly no one would blame me for leaving. But when I finally moved my legs they were headed in the opposite direction. I was walking toward the balcony, toward Maynard. I hadn't known what it was like to be a celebrity, but I knew loneliness all too well.