by Penny Wylder
I don't want her to be mad at me for telling the truth or calling her out on bullshit. We're both adults, why dance around shit at all?
She can try to convince herself all she wants that this little charade is necessary, that without Daniel's brilliant idea, and her designing the building blocks for it, my entire world will fall apart.
The truth is I don't need anyone, I just like having people around me; and right now, I want Sylvia wrapped around me. All I want is more. She's a drug and I'm devising a way to get my next high.
Sucking in a deep breath of air, I rake my fingers through my hair. I don't want the night to keep going this way, with us arguing, so I bite my tongue and keep my hand out for her.
“Thanks,” she says softly, looking down at the ground as she finally takes my hand and lets me help her out.
“Chivalry is alive and well.” Smiling, I fold my arm behind my back and bow to her. Standing up straight, I bend my arm into my side. “Shall we?” I ask, holding my chin up high.
Sylvia smiles, a real, heartfelt smile, hooking her arm in mine. “You're a piece of work Phade Manson, you know that?”
“If I weren’t a piece of work, I'd just be like everybody else. That would make for one boring life.” Tipping my head toward the entrance, I flash a smile. “Come on, I'm starving.”
The hostess is already waiting for us inside. She smiles as we walk up to the hostess stand, glancing between us. “Welcome, Mr. Manson, right this way, your table is ready.” I touch Sylvia's lower back very gently, barely applying any pressure.
Goosebumps explode down her arms, and I feel her shiver against the pads of my fingers. I love those little bumps and seeing that reaction. I love watching her not have control over what her body shows me.
She can't hide the goosebumps, she can't stop the shiver, she can't mask the desire in her eyes or the way her body leans in, not away.
A small smile perches on my lips as I walk slightly behind her to the table. I'm tempted to touch her more, to see how many more goosebumps and shivers I can draw out of her body.
My eyes keep going to the exposed skin of her neck. I'm doing all I can to not just sink my teeth into her neck and nibble the tender flesh. She looks so delicious, so edible, so goddamn fuckable, it's killing me inside.
On the outside I'm staying cool, I'm maintaining this control and keeping myself sane. But inside, everything is burning like there's an inferno blazing throughout my body. My brain is like a fucking war zone, and unfortunately I'm not winning this battle.
I want to relive what we had the other night, feel her body on mine, feel my body in hers. We shouldn't be at a restaurant, we should be at my house, fucking till the sun comes up and neither of us can walk.
In my mind's eye, I'm throwing her over the closest table, tearing her dress up to her tits, and fucking her until she falls to her knees because she's lost all feeling in her legs.
“Here we are,” the hostess says, holding out her arm to a private, two person table tucked in the back. “Your waiter will be right with you.”
“Thank you,” I say politely.
Sylvia takes her seat, watching the hostess as she leaves. “Do this often?” she asks. Her tone is dry and cold, like a jealous girlfriend.
Ooh, sassy little thing.
“Not really, why?”
“Well, first off, they know you, and second they had a table ready for you. You're not new here, that's for sure.”
“Everyone knows who I am, Syl, from you, down to the damn cafeteria lunch lady in an elementary school five hundred miles away.”
“Please don't call me that. Sylvia is good.”
“Excuse me, sorry—Syl-vi-a,” I say, exaggerating each syllable. “Better?”
“Yes actually, that's much better. I don't think we know each other well enough to use nicknames.”
“Nicknames? I didn't realize that the first three letters of your name qualifies as a nickname. You didn't seem to mind me being balls deep inside you when neither of us knew each other's name.”
“Excuse me?” her jaw grinds down hard as she speaks through clenched teeth. I swear, if her eyes could shoot razors, I'd be sliced to pieces.
“That came out wrong.” Sipping my water, I smile behind the glass before speaking again. “I'm just saying, there's a lot about me you don't know, so let’s change that. For starters, I'm not a dinner date kind of man, I can tell you that right now. So this—” I say, spinning a finger between us— “is special, and you should consider yourself lucky.”
Rolling her eyes, she lets out a laugh. “Right, I'm lucky, like the other sixty women were lucky too? Do you give all the girls that line? Does it work?”
“I'm serious. I don't date.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Sylvia pushes the plate setting to her left, laying the binder down in front of her. “A world famous fighter like yourself, and you expect me to believe you don't date? Come on, do I look that gullible? I've seen the newspapers, same as the rest of the world. I know exactly who you are, Phade Manson. Why do you think we're here doing this?”
“Whether you believe me or not, I don't really give a shit. What you see in the papers is a twisted, manipulation of what actually happened. I can't control what they spin me into, but I know who I am, and it's not the man they say it is. The truth will always be the truth, but it's up to you to see it.”
Her eyes dance around mine, and I know she's thinking something, but I can't tell what it is.
The facial expressions are there; the eye roll, the jaw drop, her lips speaking without words. The subtle movements are small and faint, but they aren't saying shit about what's running through her head.
I can see what she's feeling; the anger, the annoyance, the lack of trust, but the thoughts behind them are a mystery.
Pursing her lips lightly, she looks down at her binder. “All right,” she says, tapping the cover with the tips of her fingers. “How about we get our story down first, and then we can adjust things as we need to.” Folding open the cover, she keeps her eyes down. “I'm thinking we tell people we met at a charity event, like I said before—”
Cutting her off, I unroll my silverware from the napkin and spread them in order. “And like I said before, that won't work, because that's not me.” Knife, spoon, fork; I fix them on the napkin until I'm happy. “I don't do charity events.”
“Phade,” Sylvia dips her chin into her chest as she peers up at me, her lashes fanning her eyes like canopies. “The whole goal is to change your image.” Folding her hands on the top of the first page, she leans forward. “That's what Daniel wants.”
“Fuck what he wants.” I can't stop the hint of anger in my voice. I don't give a shit what he wants, this isn't about him.
I've known since day one that Daniel is a man set on himself. He doesn't care about me at all. Daniel could give a flying fuck about the mouthy newcomer who packs a punch. All Daniel wants is more for himself. Period.
So, if getting what he wants means trying to make me give up something that I love, he'll take it right from my hands.
“He's your boss.”
“Yeah, and?”
“That doesn't mean anything to you?”
A waiter comes to the table, disrupting our conversation. We both fall silent as he takes out his notebook to write down our orders. I order a rum and coke, simple but effective in giving me the buzz I want.
I'm not here to read pages from her book, I'm here for her. And I'm hoping by the time the night is done, she's sitting on my cock in the back of the limo.
Sylvia orders a hot decaf tea and more ice for her water. I'm watching her quietly as she reads the menu, trying to decide on dinner. Her eyes scan each page, but she keeps going back to something on the first page.
“What are you thinking about getting?”
“I'm actually thinking the salmon.”
“Let me ask you something.”
“Ah shit, now I'm afraid.” Laying down the menu, she wriggles un
comfortably in her chair.
“Afraid? Afraid of what?” Chuckling, I push the menu to the side.
Sylvia taps her nails on the binder as her lips crook unnaturally. “I don't know, I have no idea what you're going to ask me. I don't like personal questions…And you've already shown me you don't have a filter, so. . .” Pausing, she rolls a hand in the air.
“Relax, it's not bad. It's just that I see you with that binder, I hear you talk about what Daniel wants, and it just makes me wonder. How did he rope you into this? Why are you doing his dirty work?”
“I'm in PR, this is my dirty work, not his. He gave the order, and I'm the one to make it happen. This is what I do, it's not hard to understand.”
“How come I've never seen you in the office before?”
“Probably because you never paid attention.”
“You've been there when I was? You're sure?”
Nodding, her eyes open wide as saucers. “Yeah, more than once too.”
The look on her face stabs me in the chest. I feel like a complete jerk for not noticing her, but to have not seen her on multiple occasions, well that just makes me a fucking asshole.
How did I miss this girl? It doesn't make sense.
Reviewing my memories, I'm trying like hell to find one single image of this girl in my brain. But I can't. Either she hid from me every time before, or I really am inside my own head more often than I think.
“Why don't I remember you? I feel like I'd remember you if I had seen you. You're too beautiful to forget.” The corner of my lip twitches with a soft smile.
“What are you doing right now?” she asks, her fingers playing with the edge of the paper.
“I'm trying to figure out where you were hiding in the office. Because I never saw you there, I know I'd remember you if I had, there's no doubt in my mind.”
“Maybe you were occupied with other women?”
“Not a chance in hell. I haven't had an actual girlfriend in almost three years. At least not a real one anyway. All I've had are money hungry leaches, or one night stands. The one night stands are my preferred choice.”
“I'm not surprised. Is it easier to get them out of your bed in the morning?”
Shaking my head no, I shrug a shoulder. “Not at all, it's because life gets in the way. I've had my heart broken before, don't get me wrong, I know what that feels like. If I can't give someone what they want, why put them through it at all?”
“Really? You've had your heart broken?” Tilting her head, her jaw hangs open. “Wow, you're just on fire tonight. I have to give you credit though, you're quick, Phade, you have an answer for everything.”
“I'm not messing with you, I'm serious. I wasn't always this person, Sylvia, there was a time where I had absolutely nothing but the shirt on my back, and no one knew my name.”
“You're too full of yourself to have come from nothing. Someone like you can't go a day without being noticed in some small way.”
Sitting back, the waiter returns, setting down our drinks. Holding my drink in my hand, I can't bring myself to sip it. I'm suddenly frozen, mesmerized as Sylvia wraps her lips around the cup and sucks down a long sip of her tea.
My cock jerks, thickening with need, ready to feel her lips as they suck my length and make the hair at the base of my dick wet. Biting my lip, I lower my lids and whisper.
“Why don't we forget this shit and actually have some fun. There's a really nice bathroom here, clean too. Maybe we—”
“Not a chance in hell,” she responds instantly, cutting me off. “That was a fluke.”
“Why? We had fun the other night, didn't we?”
“I'm not saying it wasn't fun, but I can't disappoint Daniel. Not again.”
Again? How could this girl ever disappoint anyone? Let alone a man that's family?
“What do you mean again? I doubt you've ever let him down.”
Pulling her head back, Sylvia's eyes grow as she flicks them up to mine. “You have no idea what I've dealt with. He's my step-dad, he's been there since I was really little. I want him to be proud of me.”
“How long have you been doing PR?”
“Three years.”
“Are you good at it?”
“I wouldn't be here if I wasn't.” She says it proudly, knowing her own worth in that very second. I can hear the confidence in her voice and see it on her face.
“And that's not enough to make him proud of you? Come on, that's bullshit.”
Twirling the straw in her glass of water, Sylvia is just blankly staring into the liquid. “I'd rather not talk about this. We need to focus on us.”
“Us,” I say, my voice low and smooth. “I like the way that sounds when you say it.” Lifting my chair, I start to scoot it closer to her. “Say it again. Say us.”
“What are you doing?”
“Working on us, just like you said.” Resting my hands on the table, I give her a wink.
“That isn't what I meant, Phade.” Shaking her head, she scrunches her nose. “I meant we should go over our back story so we're both on the same page.”
“It doesn't need to be this difficult, Sylvia. Why don't we spend some real time together, actually learn some shit about each other? Why fake everything?”
“So you just want to sit and talk?” She stares at me like I'm insane, her expression bewildered by my suggestion.
“Is that so crazy?”
“It. . . It shouldn't be. . .” Her voice drops as she angles her head. “But, Phade, this is business, it needs to stay business.”
“Ask me something.”
“What?”
“Ask me something, ask me anything.” Holding out my arms, I try to show her that I'm an open book. “Screw that binder you brought, we don't need instructions. I'm right here, ask me anything you want.”
She stares at me, her eyes dancing around my face, her lips pursed as her nails brush back and forth across the side of her glass. “This isn't a game, you do realize that, right?”
“Look, I get what you're doing, but we don't have to do it Daniel's way—”
“This isn't his way, it's mine.” She's short with me as her brows dip in hard. “I have a way I like to do things, I like order, I like lists and goals. It gives everything a start and finish.”
“You can't tell me you enjoy living this way? With written rules for everyday life. Not everything can be planned and dissected. Life doesn't come with instructions, this shouldn't either.” Nudging my head at her binder, I flip my fingers in its direction.
“I don't like taking risks.”
Smirking, I shift my body in her direction, putting us closer. “You took a risk with me the other night,” I say, bouncing my brows. “So, maybe you take another risk with me. Let me take you on the ride of your life.”
Giggling, she dips her head, nibbling on the end of her straw. “Does that usually work for you? Cheap lines and alcohol, maybe a nice little dinner like this, and girls just let you dive into their panties?”
“I don't know,” I say, licking my lips as I trace her body with my eyes. “What got you to let me in yours?”
“That was a freak thing, I told you that already. I don't usually do stuff like that.”
“You don't ever just live in the moment? That was the only time that's ever happened?” Laughing out loud, I can't stop myself from grinning. “Look, I wasn't lying when I told you I haven't had many girlfriends, but if you think I'm stupid, you're dead wrong. You can't label me as a dumb muscle-head, with no clue about what I'm doing, and act like you're some innocent princess. The odds of that being your first time ever jumping into bed with someone for a one nightstand has to be a billion to one. You're like a freaking unicorn.”
“I'm not a virgin obviously, but I'm not a slut.”
“I never said you were a slut, and I don't think living life makes you a slut.” Softening my eyes, I move my hand to her shoulder. Her skin is hot to the touch, almost on fire, and I swear she jumps a little in surprise.
>
I'm just not sure if it's because of the touch, or if it's because my fingers are cold and her skin is burning.
Hanging her head, Sylvia fiddles with her fingers in her lap. “It's just not easy being in Daniel's shadow. He wants things a certain way, and I just can't seem to ever get them perfect. This is my chance to prove myself. I don't want to fuck it up.”
I can hear the music coming out of the speakers. It's an orchestra of sound, with violins and cellos, beautiful strings and high pitched winds.
“Come on,” I say, standing up and holding out my hand.
“What are you doing?”
“We're going to dance.”
“No we're not,” she says bluntly as she crosses her arms and thins her lips.
“Yes we are. Don't make me pick you up, just take my hand.”
“But there's no dance floor, and no one else is dancing.” Her eyes move around the room quickly, circling until they come back to me. “We're not doing this.”
“We are.” I'm stern when I say it, not giving in. “I don't care what everyone else is doing, I don't live for everyone else, I live for myself, and you should too.”
Reaching down, I wrap my fingers around her wrist and tug her softly. “Phade, I don't want to dance, that's not why we're here.”
“If I remember correctly, I asked you out to dinner, not the other way around. So. . .” Drawing out the last word, I tilt my head. “You owe me this dance.” Veering her stare, she's peering up at me, her expression slack. But I see the corner of her lip as it twitches, like she wants to smile and is refusing to. “Risk is all about the person who takes it. Take the risk, Sylvia.”
“Fine, but only for one song, I don't want the entire restaurant staring at us.”
“It's too late for that, everyone's been staring at you since we walked in, you're too damn sexy to ignore.” Taking her hand, I help her from her seat and braid our fingers together.
I walk us out a few feet away from our table and turn to face her. Sylvia looks terrified, like she's being put on trial for murder.
“Relax,” I say, rubbing the outside of her arms. Taking her arms, I lift them around my neck and wrap my arms around her waist.
“But everyone is staring at us.”