Vic stared at me in shock.
Sal took a second’s pause, then crossed his arms. “Very eloquent, but it does nothing to excuse your own failures.”
“No sir, it doesn’t,” I agreed. “Thank you for the opportunity you gave m– ”
“You fucking hypocrites!” Vic bellowed. “You haven’t been able to reign me in for years – what the hell makes you think she could do it in two days?”
Now it was my turn to look shocked.
“Because she said she could!” Sal snarled. “And she didn’t deliver on her promise!”
Vic shouted right back at him. “You don’t deliver on SHIT! You’re always saying that you got Ian McLaren to IPO, but the reality is, he didn’t get on board until I went down to LA last year! You always say you can do EVERYTHING, but then you end up calling ME! Why is that, if you’re so good at delivering everything you promise?”
Sal looked like he was about to start frothing at the mouth. “She was supposed to reel you in, not provoke your bad behavior!”
“Well then, actually, she delivered,” Vic snapped. “For the next 30 days, I have to do exactly what she says, down to the letter, with no disagreement.”
I stared at him in shock.
What the hell?!
Sal and Frank looked equally caught off guard.
“Why?” Frank wheezed.
“Because I made her a bet,” Vic announced.
Oh CRAP.
What the hell was he going to say?!
“Vic,” I whispered. “Not necessary.”
“What bet?” Sal asked contemptuously.
“She was being a colossal pain in my ass, so I told her I knew negotiation better than either of you two assholes – ”
“Vic,” I hissed.
“And so I made a bet with her to let me deal with Middleton my way. If I fucked it up, then I would do whatever she wanted, no questions asked, for the next 30 days. If I won – ”
OH GOD –
“ – then she was supposed to fudge her reports to you two and let me do whatever the hell I wanted, as long as I could deliver.”
...oh.
He didn’t mention the sex.
Relief flooded my entire body.
“…and…?” Frank prodded.
“And I fucked it up, apparently,” Vic said with a shrug. “So now I have to do exactly what she says for the next 30 days.”
Sal looked at me with suspicion. “Why didn’t you mention this bet beforehand?”
I thought on my feet – fast. “Uh… well… given how contemptuous you were of Vic’s negotiation strategy of gambling with Bradley Middleton, I didn’t think you would look on my similar situation with much sympathy.”
Sal turned to Vic and squinted. “And you intend to keep this bet?”
“Yeah. Unlike Middleton, I – don’t – welch,” Vic said, slamming his fist down on the table with each word for emphasis. Then he smiled craftily. “…that is, unless, she’s not working here anymore.”
Sal looked down his nose at both of us. “Since we are her employers, in the event of her departure, the effect of the wager transfers to us.”
“Unh-unh. Nope,” Vic said. “I didn’t make the bet with you, I made the bet with her. So if you fire her, the bet’s null and void, and I’m gonna keep doin’ whatever the fuck I want.”
Sal stood there, arms crossed, contemplating silently.
“…a whole month?” he finally asked.
“30 days,” Vic said, “starting now. That is… IF she stays.”
Sal looked at me. “You’re rehired on a provisional basis. I hope your track record over the next month is better than the last 72 hours.”
I wanted to spit in his face – to tell him to go stick his ‘provisional basis’ up his bony ass –
But I needed the money.
And there was no way I was going to insult Vic’s astounding gesture.
So instead I just said, “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
“Again,” Frank snorted contemptuously.
“See that you don’t,” Sal sneered. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have actual work to do.”
With that, he strode briskly across the room and out the door. Frank hauled himself up out of his chair and lumbered after him.
Vic and I were left alone in the boardroom.
65
Vic shrugged. “Well, that went well. Considering.”
I stared at him. “What just happened?”
“I totally saved your bacon is what just happened,” he chortled, then looked around the room. “Hey, wanna celebrate by doing it on the boardroom table?”
“WHAT?!”
“It’s always been a fantasy of mine,” he grinned, then started moving his hips obscenely and smacking an imaginary woman’s invisible ass. “I’ve always wanted to stick it to those two bastards by banging in here right under their noses, so that every time they walked in, they’d – ”
“You just admitted to them that you lost our bet.”
“What? Oh – that was for show, so you could keep your job.” He winked and started gyrating his hips again. “By the way, I take payment in sexual favors.”
My brain was reeling as I realized the implications of what had just happened in the last three minutes. “But… technically… you did lose the bet.”
“What?! No,” Vic scoffed. “Bradley lost the poker hand. He totally agreed to the financing.”
“But he didn’t sign the contract. And the bet was that he would sign.”
“Oh, COME ON – I totally got him to agree – it’s not my fault he double-crossed me – ”
“Do you know what this sounds like?” I asked.
“What?”
I grinned in delight. “It sounds like somebody’s trying to welch on a bet.”
That got him. Vic’s whole face scrunched up in irritation. “Now hold on – ”
“But I heard that you never, ever welch on a bet,” I crowed.
“This isn’t welching! I WON!”
“Really? Huh – I have an email with a certain lawyer’s telephone number… I suppose we could call him and see what he says…”
Vic closed his eyes and grimaced in pain. “…shit.”
God, I was enjoying this.
“So – did I hear that right?” I asked. “That you never, ever welch on a bet?”
He mumbled to himself, “You try to help somebody out… ”
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, cupping my hand to my ear.
He grumbled, “Yes. You heard right.”
“Ahhh. But you know what I’m not hearing?” I decided to have some fun and twist the knife. “I’m not hearing ‘Yes, ma’am.’”
He glared at me. “You have GOT to be kidding me.”
“What?” I called out loudly, cupping my ear and leaning in more.
He took a long, long time to answer, but when he finally did, he mumbled, “…yes, ma’am.”
“I also heard that if you welch on this particular bet any time in the next thirty days, you owe me a million dollars.”
More agony on his face. “You bitch…”
“WHAT?!”
“…yes, ma’am.”
I folded my arms in triumph. “Great. So – no more parties for a month.”
His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “WHAT?!”
I looked at him sternly.
He exhaled heavily. “…yes, ma’am.”
“I gotta tell you, I am loving this bet,” I grinned.
“This is gonna be the longest fuckin’ month ever,” he muttered, then shrugged. “At least I’ll get some incredible sex out of it.”
My stomach knotted up.
“Uh… about that,” I said. “We need to talk.”
He stared at me in horror. “About WHAT?!”
“This was almost a complete disaster, Vic. I could have gotten fired.”
“But you didn’t! Because I SAVED your ass!”
I shook my head regretfully. “I
need this job. I can’t take any more chances. If they find out that we slept together – ”
“They won’t!”
“But if they did – ”
“Monica, COME ON. Sleeping with you has been the best sex of my LIFE – you can’t just take that away from me!”
Best sex of his life?
My heart started racing. It’s always nice to hear that from any guy, much less the best lover you’ve ever had.
God I wanted him so bad…
But I couldn’t give in. I couldn’t.
“It was great, but it was a one-time thing,” I said.
“More like a dozen-time thing,” he pointed out.
“You didn’t win the bet and you still got to sleep with me, so be happy for the consolation prize.”
“But why?! I don’t understand why you’d throw that out the window!”
I thought about telling him… but it was too much. Too scary. So I told him as much as I could.
“I need this job, Vic.”
“You can have the job and sleep with me, too!”
“It’s too big of a risk.”
“There are other jobs – ”
“Not that pay this well.”
“What, so it’s all about the money?” he asked angrily.
“I need the money for personal reasons – ”
“What?”
“ – that I’m not willing to talk about. And I’m not willing to jeopardize it any further, so sex is off the table.”
“Well, if I don’t get to sleep with you, then screw this – I’m just going to go in there and tell them every single thing we did the last two days, blow by blow!” he snapped.
“And I’m telling you not to.”
“Too goddamn bad!”
“If you tell them, you forfeit the million dollars.”
The realization was like a baseball bat to his gut. I could see it on his face.
He stood there gritting his teeth together. “This was the WORST fucking bet I have ever made in my ENTIRE fucking life.”
I smiled as I headed for the doors. “Maybe it’ll teach you not to bet, then.”
“Probably not,” he grumbled as he followed along behind me.
66
It was with real regret that I didn’t sleep with him.
And a ton of internal struggle.
And a mountain-sized load of sexual frustration.
But I needed this job, for reasons I couldn’t tell him – and because of that, I had to power through.
He didn’t make it easy on me, either. We’d be on the boat, going through financials, and he would insist on sunbathing. So I would be sitting there under a deck umbrella, fully clothed, and he would be lying on a folding chair, muscles rippling, tanned skin dappled with sweat. He would wear boxer-style swim trunks (which was smart – Speedos would have turned me off completely), and I was constantly tantalized by the large, solid shape I could see resting on his thigh under the cloth. I swear to God, I bet he thought about sex constantly just so he could stay semi-erect the entire time.
He would take every opportunity to get naked around me, too. Not blatantly – just enough for a little peek at the goods. After sunbathing he would announce, “Well, I’m going to go shower,” and just before he walked in his bedroom he would shuck off his trunks and I would see his astounding ass before he vanished inside. Or, even worse, I would catch a glimpse of his cock, pendulous and heavy, swinging back and forth just before he closed the door.
He would go swimming in the nude, too. “Don’t look,” he would tease as he got out of the pool, and I would glance away, wanting so badly to look. Sometimes I gave in and snuck a glance at his gorgeous cock and ass before he’d wrap himself in a towel.
And the bumping up against me. He’d reach across me for something – not to cop a feel on me, but for me to feel his biceps. Or to brush up against his abs. Or worst of all, bumping his body against my leg or ass so I would be able to feel the solid pressure of his cock, soft but firm, pressing against my thigh.
“‘Scuse me,” he would say, then continue like nothing had happened.
“Stop that,” I would snap.
“Stop what?” he’d say, all innocent.
“THAT.”
“What?”
“You know what you did.”
“Yeah, I got the bottle of water.”
“NO.”
“Yes…?”
“You touched me.”
“Okay, so I touched you. So what?”
“You were touching me with… with…”
“With what?” he’d ask, the barest hint of a smile on his lips, knowing that I was thinking about him. About his arms, his abs… his cock.
“Just – don’t touch me!” I’d snap.
“Okay, okay – jeez. No-fly zone around Monica.”
And then he wouldn’t touch me again for hours, and I would be dying to feel him touch me the entire time – and then he’d oh-so-innocently brush up against me later.
And the way he smelled. Mmmm. I swear to God the bastard broke out every great-smelling men’s cologne in existence and tried a new one every day in an effort to seduce me though scent.
Then he started to play really dirty.
He cut out his most annoying habits: no more sexual double entendres, stupid jokes, or juvenile crap. He was polite, pleasant, and occasionally very funny.
He did stick to wearing t-shirts and camouflage pants, which was the only thing that helped my libido not spontaneously ignite my underwear – but it hadn’t been a deal-breaker before, and it certainly wasn’t now.
When his uncles arranged business meetings for us, he went. No fuss, no muss, no complaining, no grade-school behavior. Just courteous and professional.
And no women. No girls, no dates, no nothing. No leering looks at waitresses or women on the street. As far as I could tell, when we weren’t together, he was a monk.
He never made an overt pass at me, either. Other than the occasional drive-by bump or brushing-up-against, he was, for the most part, a gentleman. Nothing to make me hate him or despise him or to counteract my overwhelming physical attraction for him.
In short, I walked around in a constant state of sexual arousal and frustration. My panties were usually soaked, and nothing I could do would make it better. Oh, I would take care of myself at night, sure – but the only thing I would fantasize about was him taking me. Dominating me. Talking dirty to me. Pulling my hair as he took me from behind.
Or making love to me. Staring me in the eyes as I came. Whispering in my ear… caressing my skin as he rocked slowly inside me…
I couldn’t get him out of my mind. His gorgeous body, that thick cock, the way he felt inside me, the way he made me come –
I was a fucking physical and emotional wreck, but I powered on through my days with him as best I could.
Until Day Five.
67
It was Friday night, and we were going over a list of all the past deals he’d done for his uncles. He wanted a clear accounting of exactly how valuable he was to Cortelian Capital so that he could make the argument that he deserved whatever his uncles were paying him.
I had to admit, he had a damn good case – IF he was telling the truth and not exaggerating. In the last five years, he’d been involved in 27 financing deals for his uncles. Some were fairly minor, but at least half were worth hundreds of millions. Figuring in a standard 3% finder’s fee, he wasn’t far off when he said he should have been making 20 million a year.
Anyway, the day was coming to a close when the chef brought out an ice bucket with a bottle and a couple of champagne flutes.
“What’s this?” I asked as the chef departed.
Vic smiled as he poured out two glasses of champagne. “For a toast.”
“To what?” I asked. “Not killing each other?”
“That’ll do,” he said as he handed me a glass.
I eyed the champagne and the million little bubbles. “I shouldn’t drin
k. I need to go home soon.”
He gave me a deadpan look. “You Uber to the marina every day. You don’t drive at all.”
“…fine. One drink.”
He held up his glass. “To not killing each other – and to establishing a really good working relationship. I didn’t think it could be done, but… you did it. We did it.”
I reluctantly clinked my glass against his, then took a sip.
DAMN that was good…
“I’d also like to ask a favor of you,” he said.
“What?” I asked warily.
“I’d like to have dinner with you.”
“Why?” I asked, even more warily.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been on my best behavior as of late.”
“I’ve noticed,” I said grudgingly.
“Well, for an extreme extrovert such as myself, it’s been a little lonely. I’d like some company.”
I fidgeted in my chair. “Vic – ”
“Just dinner. That’s it.”
He sat there waiting for my answer, which was a long time in coming.
Finally I sighed. “…fine.”
I could do dinner and a glass of wine. No big deal, right?
…right?
68
One glass turned into three or four.
Dinner consisted of tender, delicious scallops, along with succulent baby peas and an amazing spinach and goat cheese salad. Dessert was the most decadent chocolate mousse I’d ever put in my mouth.
And the company! Vic was charming and witty, and he regaled me with story after story about his adventures – none of them involving bimbos or morally questionable behavior. The time he hitchhiked from Belize to Texas because he lost all his money in a poker tournament and his uncles wanted to teach him a lesson. The time he did the Polar Bear plunge in the middle of winter in Alaska because he lost a bet. The time he had to do the Running of the Bulls naked because he lost a bet.
Strip Poker: Bad Boys Club Romance #2 Page 19