Yes, I’d be giving up complete control, but Claire would be doing the same. We’d have to share the important decisions, and based on her tenure as owner of Creative Talents, I’m confident we think alike on the majority of big issues. For the times when we’re split on something, it would come down to the two of us having to respect each other’s opinions and work it out. I already admire Claire from a business standpoint. She’s grown her agency from nothing while I was doing the same. Respect will not be an issue, ever.
A merger also would provide the opportunity for each of us to focus on the aspects of the business that we love, and even better, to hand off the drudgery of being forced to do things we detest. That alone might be worth any headaches the merger could bring. My job would be almost all fun again, as would hers.
My employees, as well as Claire’s, would mostly be thrilled at the idea of suddenly working for a huge new force in the industry. There probably wouldn’t be an increase in pay, at least not at first, but their status would get a huge bump. So would mine and Claire’s, for that matter. Our clients would benefit, too. In Hollywood, status is everything.
As I slog my way back up the hill, wringing wet with sweat, a decision emerges.
Claire’s idea is nothing short of genius. Of course I’ll agree to a merger.
I’d like to say that being able to work alongside Claire played a huge part in my decision, but I’d be lying. Sure, it’ll be nice to have a business partner that smart and talented. That isn’t the deciding factor, though.
It’s the power.
A merger with CT would accomplish overnight what would have taken another decade for MAU alone, and Claire and I both instantly become major players in the industry.
I reach the top of the hill feeling exhilarated instead of exhausted, a huge grin plastered across my face. Turning to the south, I can see the entire San Gabriel Valley laid out before me, from downtown LA to Hollywood and beyond.
As I stand surveying the vista, my newfound sense of power is already as real as the breeze on my face. I remember that same cool breeze enveloping Claire and I during our hilltop kiss.
That’s the exact moment I realize power alone is no longer enough for me. Not that I don’t still want the influence, the prestige, the control — I absolutely crave all the things that power brings. But I also desire something more.
I want someone to share it with.
I want Claire.
Not merely as a business partner, but as much more. The realization arrives with startling clarity, and it feels so right that I don’t bother trying to fight it.
I send her a text as soon as I reach my car and retrieve my phone.
Busy tonight?
Her response arrives quickly.
Why? Have you made a decision?
Business before pleasure indeed.
Yes. I’ll tell you over dinner and drinks.
I wait impatiently for her reply.
Pick me up at 6 in front of CT. Where are we going?
There’s only one possible venue.
Pink’s. My treat.
The famous hot-dog stand is not exactly fine dining.
Seriously?
She’ll learn in time that while I’m usually serious, I do have a mischievous side.
Of course. Dress up, though. We’re going to make a statement.
I laugh as I imagine her baffled expression.
OK.
That’s my girl. I set my phone down, then it dings again.
P.S. I’m having second thoughts about this. You’re weird.
* * *
Claire smiles radiantly as she struts out of the building toward my car. She’s wearing a short red dress with elbow-length sleeves and black leggings, and like everything else I’ve seen her wear, it’s ridiculously sexy. Unlike the last time I picked her up for dinner, there are no feelings of competition between us, no snarky comments as I hold the car door open for her. She tiptoes and plants a sweet kiss on my cheek, then uses her thumb to remove the lipstick.
As soon as I buckle myself in and touch the gas pedal, she hits me up.
“So why Pink’s, of all places?”
“The amazing food!” I say. My facetiousness earns a look of skepticism.
“It was the first place I ate when I arrived in LA years ago,” I explain. “Since then, I’ve marked all my special occasions at Pink’s. Graduating from law school, getting a job at CAA, starting my own agency, landing Drake his first eight-figure contract… it’s become a tradition. And my three best friends and I eat there every New Year’s Day for good luck.”
Satisfied, Claire nods. “Are you going to introduce me to them?” she asks.
“To the Bad Boys?”
Her crinkled nose tells me another explanation is required. “The four of us call ourselves the Hollywood Bad Boys Club. Long story. And yeah, you’ll meet them soon. All of them already know about you.”
That generates a momentary smile, followed by a look of concern.
“I’m sorry, Mason, but I can’t possibly sit through the drive to Pink’s and then wait who knows how long in line without knowing your answer. Can you please just tell me now, and either way, we can discuss the future over dinner?”
I was expecting this. I look at her and smile silently, but it just irritates her.
“C’mon, don’t be a jerk,” she says, pleading. “The suspense has been eating me alive since you left my house. Tell me!”
I wait another delicious moment to draw out the drama, enjoying seeing Claire beg like this. She’s so wrapped up in my answer about a merger that she doesn’t realize we’re not driving in the direction of Pink’s.
26
Claire
“Tell me!”
I plead with Mason, needing his answer immediately so I don’t go crazy.
He finally gives in, sort of. “Okay, okay. I’ve given this plenty of thought.” He pauses, collecting himself. “I’ll only agree to a merger on one condition…”
A condition? My brain starts spinning.
“What condition?”
“Before we get to that, I want to tell you something,” he says. “Something that could interfere with any attempt to merge our companies.”
I steel myself for bad news. When he first asked me to dinner tonight to give me his answer, I had high hopes. Now his selection of Pink’s Hot Dogs makes more sense. The idea of a merger seems to be drifting out of reach.
“I have a problem being around you.”
My heart is sinking. I feel like I’ve been punched.
“I can’t imagine us being able to work together,” he says.
Well, shit.
His eyes are so intense, it’s impossible to read him. I fight to hold back the tears I feel just under the surface.
“How do you feel about me, Claire?”
“I think we could work together. In fact, I think we’d be great together. There might be an adjustment period as we get used to each oth—“
“No, how do you feel about me?”
Is he asking what I think he’s asking?
My confusion disappears when he takes my hand in his. That simple touch is electric and makes my whole body tingle. I look at him and am suddenly tired of pretending I’m not totally taken by this man.
“I like everything about you, Mason.”
I hesitate, then my heart takes over for my beleaguered brain.
“In a perfect world, you would be my perfect man.”
Oh my god. I had never formed the thought until this second, but I know immediately that it’s true.
The problem is, Mason isn’t responding. Instead he’s watching the road as his fingers nervously stroke my hand.
This isn’t fair. I’ve just come out to him, and he has nothing to say about it?
“And you feel…?” I begin, then stop and wait. It’s his turn, dammit.
Mason says nothing, and I don’t flinch. I’ll wait all night if I have to, but whatever it is he’s thinking right now, I need him to say it
because I need to hear it.
My breath is stuck in my throat as his mouth opens in slow motion.
“When we’re together, I’m constantly fighting a losing battle to keep my pulse down. My body reacts to the mere thought of being with you. I’m not sure how the fuck this happened, but I’m crazy about you.”
I’m so confused I don’t know whether to be happy or not. What’s going on here?
“For whatever reason, we’re both nuts for each other,” he says. “But I don’t want you as a business partner.”
Mason sees my crestfallen look as I pull my hand away.
“So you don’t want to do the merger?”
“No,” he says. “Wait, I mean: No, that’s not it.”
I swear to God I’m going to pass out from confusion, if that’s possible.
”What I meant was that I don’t want you only as a business partner,” he says.
My mind is reeling and tears well in my eyes. “Mason, I don’t understand.”
“I don’t want just your business expertise,” he says. “I want all of you. You’re an amazing woman and I want the chance to get to know every aspect of you.”
“What are you saying?” After the last few minutes, my heart needs him to be specific.
“I’m saying I want us to be together. Our businesses and us.”
I feel a lump in my throat and I’m unable to stop the tear that travels slowly down my cheek.
“This merger has to be all or nothing, Claire. In order to make this work, we both have to commit, to each other as well as to the business.”
As I mentally wrestle with his remark, Mason pulls the car to a stop. I’ve been so wrapped up in the conversation, I have no idea where we are. A valet attendant opens my door, then looks at me with confusion when I don’t get out.
“This isn’t Pink’s,” I tell him.
“No ma’am,” he says, politely stifling a laugh. “This is Riposo.”
What the hell is Mason thinking? First he says he’s taking me to dinner at a hot dog stand, then he drives me straight to the newest high-rise luxury hotel on the Sunset Strip.
“Give us a moment,” I tell the valet, then shut my door. “Why are we here, Mason?”
“First things first,” he says. “Regarding the merger: I’m in. Let’s do it. But only if we can be together away from the office, too. That part is not negotiable.”
He leans toward me and plants a soft, sweet kiss on my lips.
“I want you, Claire. All of you.”
My heart soars and I throw my arms around him, burying my face into his neck as the tears flow.
When I finally catch my breath, I pull back and ask, “Are we really going to do this?”
He wipes a tear from my cheek.
“We’d be crazy not to.”
“Shall we shake on it?” I ask jokingly.
“That’s not really our style.” Looking at the hotel entrance, he says, “I got us a room here so we could consummate the merger.”
“I am so down for that,” I say without hesitation. “I want you to consummate my brains out.”
* * *
I’m unable to suppress my giddy smile as Mason and I walk briskly into Riposo‘s lobby, barely noticing the resplendent décor with its huge fountains and marble columns. We’re at the front desk in seconds, where we hear the most distressing words imaginable.
“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but it seems there was an error with your reservation. Our guest rooms are fully occupied tonight.”
A sinking feeling lands in the pit of my stomach. Not because it means Mason and I can’t have a celebratory bedroom romp, but because it’ll be delayed another half hour while we wait for the car, then find another hotel. Going to one of our homes might be easier, but he’s right that a hotel is so much sexier and more romantic.
“The only thing we have available is our Honeymoon Suite.”
Mason grins. “That actually makes perfect sense, in a way.”
“It features a large bedroom with luxury bath including a soaking tub and tropical rainforest shower, a room for entertaining with a grand piano and a media area, and a terrace overlooking Hollywood with a marble Jacuzzi. Also included are—”
“We’ll take it,” Mason says.
“Of course, sir,” the clerk says. “The suite is twenty-eight hundred dollars a night.”
Mason turns to me and says, “Merger discussion meeting rooms are tax deductible, right, partner?”
We don’t require a bellhop since the only luggage we have is my small handbag, but the hotel insists on sending one up anyway to show us the suite. I’ve felt my level of sexual excitement rising from the moment I hugged Mason in the car and smelled his cologne, and at this point it’s almost unbearable. It’s all I can do to refrain from jumping him in the elevator as the two of us are escorted to the suite on the twentieth and top floor.
The bellhop’s tour is brief but seems to take forever. The suite itself is splendid, with muted mauve walls and lavender highlights to go with the subdued lighting. There’s a white leather semi-circular couch in the main room with pillows to match the décor, and a giant sphere descends from the high ceiling to light the area. As promised, a glossy white grand piano waits in one corner, and several vases of fresh-cut flowers finish things off perfectly.
The bathroom is indeed spa-like, with a huge Japanese soaking tub sitting in front of a glass wall. “I assure you it’s one-way,” the bellhop tells us. The décor in the bedroom is elegant and sensuous, but my eyes move immediately to the huge bed, with an indigo and mustard comforter and lovely orchids on the twin nightstands.
As soon as the door closes behind the bellhop, Mason stands in front of me and puts his hands on my shoulders. He stares at me, beginning with my feet and slowly moving up until he reaches my eyes, then smiles and moves to my hair, my nose, my lips.
“What?” I say self-consciously.
Without stopping his visual inventory, he says, “You are so fucking beautiful… just give me a minute.”
I have never wanted a man more than I want Mason Stark right now.
I throw my arms over his shoulders and we slam together in a passionate embrace, our lips parting to let our tongues intertwine. His hand finds my neck, stroking just under my ear as he gently nibbles my lower lip. Despite my speech the other day extolling the virtues of foreplay, I know there will be precious little of that now, because as soon as the kiss ends Mason rushes me to the bedroom and immediately starts to unzip my dress. I keep him at bay long enough to remove my shoes and slip off my tights, then I let him finish the job.
My dress ends up on the right, my bra on the left, and no sooner do my panties reach my ankles than Mason drops to his knees and presses his face between my legs. My knees weaken as he kisses me there for the first time. His hands cup my ass and his tongue slips between my lips, insistently searching for my clit. I grab his head with both hands and revel in the attention until he eventually rises and moves me to the bed, lifting me and gently setting my butt on the edge, then nudging my legs apart.
I watch impatiently as he undresses, wishing I could stop him momentarily when he’s down to just his slate-gray boxer briefs, his hard cock outlined by the cotton as the tip peeks out over the waistband. There’s no slowing Mason, though, as he tosses them aside, then takes my calves and lifts, tilting me backwards until my back lands on the bed. His mouth is on me again, his tongue deftly probing and exploring before it begins flicking over my clit. I’m not surprised in the slightest that he’s also terrific at oral sex, and it doesn’t take long until I’m running my fingers through his hair and moaning wantonly.
Just as I reach the brink, he stops abruptly and climbs on the bed, pushing my body further onto the mattress.
“You once told me if I wanted to fuck you, I should fuck you directly,” he says, his voice drenched in desire. “You’re about to get your wish.”
In a flash he’s moved between my legs, pushing his hard-on into me. He grabs my
wrists and brusquely pins them to the bed above my head, then holds me like that as his hips press against my thighs. I gasp when I feel Mason’s rigid cock begin sliding into my wetness. Then I blissfully give in to him, my entire consciousness focused on our shared point of erotic contact as he begins to thoroughly ravage me.
All the events of the last week – the last month, actually – have led us to this bed and this moment. I’m in ecstasy at the way Mason confidently commands my body as he gradually increases the pace of his thrusting. I look into his eyes and know deep down that this is right, that we’re not rushing into a mistake. I concentrate on the feeling of his fingers wrapped tightly around my wrists, his rock-hard cock alternately invading me, then retreating to again leave me wanting.
Mason’s eyes meet mine and the intensity of his gaze matches that of his thrusts, moving my emotions, transporting me to that magical place only accessible when one is falling in love. I see it in my man’s eyes, too, a tinge of profound tenderness that contradicts the rough driving of his cock in and out of me. It lasts only briefly, then he turns animalistic again.
“You like that?” he asks, tightening his grip on my wrists.
I nod, unable to speak or turn my eyes away from him.
“What do you want?” he prods.
I moan as his hard-on keeps penetrating deeper, violating me more with each stroke.
“Say it, Claire,” he demands, his face inches from mine. “Tell me what you want.”
I’m rapidly spinning into a state of pure shameless lust. I know exactly what I want from Mason.
“Fuck me harder,” I moan, and immediately he increases the intensity of his thrusts. Soon he’s pounding away and I’m surprised to feel an orgasm building deep inside of me. I almost never come in this position, but then I’ve never been fucked this skillfully before.
“My bad girl needs a hard fucking,” Mason says gruffly.
Hollywood Bad Boys Club: Book 2: Mason Page 14