by Alina Jacobs
I grimaced and looked around the restaurant, wanting my eyes to land on anything other than the crocodile tears and clumped mascara on Camilla’s fake eyelashes. My eyes did find another target. There, across the restaurant, was Ivy, glaring at me. I could feel her disapproval wafting over the restaurant.
Fuck.
The server came by, breaking our connection. Camilla, determined to draw this dinner out as long as possible, ordered us the three-hour tasting menu.
“You’re not even going to eat any of that.”
She gave a braying laugh. “I can pick parts of it. You’ll eat the rest. I’m back on a diet for our wedding.”
Through course after course, Camilla drank and ate maybe five bites of food while I sat there listening to her go on and on about the new wedding she was planning. In my head, I tabulated how much money I was going to make on the land deal. I decided it wasn’t anywhere near enough to endure Camilla.
We weren’t even halfway through the tasting menu when Ivy and her friends stood up from their table. Camilla’s face went sour when she saw them.
“How dare you come here!” she slurred when they walked past. “You ruined my wedding!”
Ivy cocked her head and gave Camilla a fake smile.
“I’m sorry about that, Camilla. But do keep in mind that we ask all our brides that you be completely truthful so that we can head off any disasters and make sure that your wedding goes off without a hitch. That’s why we need to know if your weight is fluctuating so that your dress fits correctly, if you or any guests have food allergies so no one is rushed to the hospital during the reception, and if you’re sleeping with anyone who is not the groom so we can ensure that your side piece either isn’t in attendance or that a jealous girlfriend doesn’t ruin the ceremony. Unfortunately, you never told me that you were sleeping with both the best man and the father of the groom. If you had mentioned it, I would have been able to run interference. On your next wedding, please keep that in mind!”
I hid a laugh in my napkin.
“You bitch!” Camilla screeched, swiping drunkenly at Ivy, who skipped backward. “You’re never getting a dime from me. You can forget about my paying that last bill.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ivy said with fake brightness. “Evan already paid. You’re all settled up.”
“You did?” Camilla growled at me.
I glared at her.
“I can’t have people saying I don’t pay my bills. You were reflecting badly on me.”
“As it looks like you’re in the middle of an important dinner,” Ivy said, “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”
It was all I could do not to run after her and explain myself. Even I had to admit it looked bad. On a date with the woman who had cheated on me? Anyone would assume I was either weak or stupid, neither of which was how I wanted Ivy to think of me. I wanted her to want me.
Unfortunately, there were another two hours of dinner to go. Camilla pouted and drank as course after course was brought out. She didn’t touch hers, and I picked at mine, wishing, as the seconds slowly dragged by, that it was Ivy with me. When the final dessert was set down in front of us, I asked the waiter if he could just box up the cake, the leftovers, and the untouched dishes.
“Are we going back to your place?” Camilla breathed against my neck.
“Which place?” I asked tersely. “The one you’re currently squatting in?”
“I live there. It’s mine! You bought it for me!” she protested, her nails sinking into my skin.
“No, I bought it for us.”
“You have to get back together with me,” Camilla said, starting to sob. “We’re in love. We’re meant to be together.”
The waiter came back with the bill. He was too professional to even twitch an eyebrow, but I knew he was silently disapproving. I threw down my credit card then turned to Camilla.
“We will never get back together.”
“You’re going to be all alone!” Camilla howled at me as the waiter returned with a brown paper sack full of food and the half bottle of wine Camilla hadn’t guzzled.
“I’d rather be alone than with someone who does not respect me.”
“I love you.”
“You don’t,” I said. “I should have listened to my sister. She was right about you all along.”
I felt oddly calm as I left the restaurant. I felt free. I’d survived the dinner. Sutherland should sell me the property now, and Camilla and her antics were now no longer something I had to contend with. Things were looking up.
Then I remembered Ivy’s face when she saw me with Camilla. I checked the time. Would she still be awake?
Her light was on when the town car pulled up in front of her co-op building. Mrs. Russo was on the sidewalk, chatting with three other older women. They whistled and catcalled when I walked up to the door.
“I told you he’s handsome, didn’t I, Ida?” Mrs. Russo declared, nudging her friend.
“Dip him in chocolate and I’d eat him right up!” Ida extended her hand to me. She had a surprisingly strong grip.
“I’m in the sex toy business,” she informed me. “We have sex chocolate that has a lower melting point, and you can literally dip your dick in it.” She pulled a jar from her purse. “Give it a try.”
I desperately tried to keep a straight face. “I don’t have anyone to use that with,” I said, trying to politely refuse.
Ida placed it in the bag of food.
“Ivy will like it,” Mrs. Russo assured me. “She loves chocolate. Tell her this is the dark chocolate; she’ll lick it off your cock all day.”
“I—”
“Here, I’ll let you in,” Mrs. Russo said. “Me and the girls are trying to decide which strip club to go to.”
I walked up to Ivy’s apartment in a daze and knocked on the door. Fergus meowed inside.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t find any ATMs that give one-dollar bills,” she said as she unlocked the door.
I raised an eyebrow when it opened. “You going to a strip club?” I teased.
“Why would I need to when you keep showing up here unannounced to harass me and take off your clothes?” she countered.
“I only undressed that one time,” I said.
“I have a meeting tomorrow. You can’t come over here to rile up my cat.”
“I didn’t come here for the cat,” I said, lowering my voice. “I came here for you.”
Her eyes widened, and she swallowed. I looked down at her chest. She wasn’t wearing a bra under the thin T-shirt. She crossed her arms.
I looked back up at her face. “I’m about to make all your wildest fantasies come true.”
23
Ivy
Did he come here to fuck me? My pussy thought that was an excellent idea.
No. He’s clearly back together with Camilla. This is some sort of trick.
“Are you going to give me a unicorn that shits gold? Because that’s what I want.”
“Better!” Evan said, grinning. He held out a brown paper sack. “I brought leftovers.”
“I knew it,” I muttered. Evan looked confused.
Of course he’s confused, stupid dense man.
“So you brought me the leftovers from the date you were on with Camilla at a restaurant I just ate at. How romantic,” I said sarcastically to mask the hurt I was feeling.
Why? You don’t even like him!
“I could have thrown it away. She didn’t even touch it,” he said, taking two steps inside then sprawling on my bed. “There’s a whole ten-course meal in there. I mean, all the food is like three bites, but add it all together, and you have dinner. And dessert,” he added, chucking Fergus under the chin.
I looked into the bag.
Story of my life. I’m only worthy of some other girl’s leftovers.
I pulled out a jar of chocolate sauce, inspected it, then turned beet red at the frankly graphic instructional sketch of a girl dipping her boyfriend’s cock in the jar of chocolate
then sucking on it.
“Dessert, huh,” I said.
“Yep,” he said, not looking up from Fergus, “it looked pretty tasty. Of course, I’m not a big sweets person, but I figured you’d want to take a big bite.”
I raised an eyebrow and looked back at the jar of chocolate sauce. The label said it was organic. Maybe Evan did want me after all. Or maybe he just wanted me for sex. I mean, that was probably for the best, right? He and I couldn’t have a relationship. That would be absurd and bad for my business. My friends would never forgive me.
“That might hurt if I took a bite of your dick,” I joked.
“Huh?” Evan’s head jerked up.
I waved the jar at him.
He cursed, jumped up, and took it from me. In the small space, I was very aware that I was not wearing a bra and that Evan was within kissing distance of me.
“Mrs. Russo’s friend Ida foisted it on me,” he explained.
“Uh-huh.”
Evan looked at me incredulously. “Do you honestly think I’d coat my dick in chocolate?”
“If you’re trying to get me to suck it, then you better dip it in chocolate or cream cheese frosting,” I told him.
He set the sauce on the narrow desk behind me then settled his large hands on my waist. “Are you offering to suck me off?”
“Only if it’s frosted like a cupcake,” I whispered, “with sprinkles. The dark-chocolate Belgian ones.”
His hands snaked up my sides to my arms. He uncrossed them, pressing me to him. “You better be careful. You might start giving people the wrong idea, bringing up kinky sex food play.”
“It’s not kinky,” I told him, forcing myself to ignore how close his thumbs were to my nipples. “Kinky would be like dressing up in a hot dog outfit and letting you fuck me.”
Evan grinned, his lower lip caught in his teeth. “Honestly, it’s been so long since I fucked someone that I would totally have my way with you in a hot dog outfit.”
“I don’t know what Camilla would have to say about that.”
His large hands tightened on my arms. “Camilla and I are done.”
“Then why were you on a date with her?” I retorted.
“It’s complicated,” Evan said with a scowl, making his handsome features look slightly dangerous. “But trust me when I say she and I are done. I hated every minute of dinner with her. I just kept wishing it was you.”
“Careful,” I said, licking my lips. “You might start giving people the wrong idea.”
Evan pressed me against him. “I always say exactly what I mean,” he breathed against my mouth. Then he closed the distance between us, kissing me.
I melted against him. His muscular arms caressed my back then wrapped around me, pulling me closer. He tipped my head back to kiss me deeper, his tongue tangling in my mouth. My hands trailed up his broad shoulders to splay at the back of his neck. Evan drew back, and I was about to whip off my clothes and push him back onto the bed until better judgment prevailed.
“And I think that’s enough for tonight,” I said.
“Seriously? You don’t want me to stay so you can watch me cover my dick in chocolate?”
“No, thank you.”
“I can Amazon Prime Now some sprinkles.”
“I have my own sprinkles, thank you very much.”
“You can’t tell me that wasn’t a great kiss.” He smirked, and I wanted to kiss that mouth again.
“It was a bad-idea kiss.”
“Isn’t that the best kind?”
“Not if you’re my client,” I told him, stepping away from him. “I have to think about my career and my business. That takes top priority for me. I’m not throwing it away for five minutes of fun.”
“Five minutes!” Evan said in shock. “Ivy, I’m offended.” He stepped up to me, backing me up against the wall. “Let me show you how much pleasure I can give you in a whole night.”
His offer made my pussy wet and achy. I wanted to pull down my panties and let him show me exactly what he meant.
Alarm bells! Terrible idea! Someone save the girl with severe boundary issues!
I needed to put some distance between me and Evan before I made a decision I regretted, but the narrow space between the bed and the wall was such that I couldn’t get by. I climbed up on the bed.
“Your actions are giving me mixed signals,” he said as he watched me scoot over the bed like a walrus.
“This is the least sexy I will ever be,” I retorted as I clambered off the bed. “Thank you for the food, but you really should be going. It’s late. What would the neighbors think?”
“I don’t know. Mrs. Russo is probably throwing dollar bills at half naked men at a strip club as we speak, so I think she’d dig it.”
24
Evan
The thought of fucking Ivy had latched onto my brain and wasn’t letting go. The feel of her soft, round tits, the hard nipples pressed against my chest lingered. I wanted to push her back against the bed and press my face against her pussy just to hear her moan.
Have I mentioned I’d had a dry spell lately?
“I have a meeting in the morning,” Ivy prompted.
I stepped up to her, feeling the sexual heat radiating off of her. “You don’t want me to stay?” I asked in a low growl.
Her dilated eyes said, Yes please, but she whispered, “No.”
I bent my head down to smell the fruity scent of her hair. “I’d kiss you goodbye,” I told her, “but if I touched you, I don’t think I would be able to restrain myself from ripping your clothes off and fucking you into the bed.”
She gave a little whimper.
“You keep making that noise,” I told her, “and my self-control will be very much eroded.”
She bit her lip slightly then made another soft little moan.
“I can’t tell if you’re teasing or you want me to fuck you,” I told her in a low voice.
Before I could find out, my phone rang. I fumbled in my pants pocket for it then swore when I saw the number. I answered it and waved goodbye to Ivy and Fergus.
“Did you acquire the property?” Greg Svensson’s tone was cold. “I will be making other arrangements if you don’t deliver to me by eleven tomorrow morning. My sources tell me that you have been making steps to reconnect with Camilla Sutherland. I assume that means that you have the key parcels in hand.”
“I will,” I promised him as I took the steps two at a time. “I’m going to talk to Orson Sutherland tomorrow.”
I was at the Sutherland Bank early the next morning. I tried to remain calm and collected and not pace in the lobby as I waited for Orson to show up to work. Finally, at nine thirty, he strolled in.
“How was your meeting with Camilla? Smoothed everything over, I hope?”
“Of course,” I lied.
“When’s the new wedding date?” he asked, slapping me on the back and ushering me to his expansive corner office.
“We’re taking it slow,” I said smoothly. “I’m a bit busy with this Svensson Investment real estate deal.”
“You young billionaires and your investments. You’re always so busy. You need to take time for family.”
I glanced at the clock on the wall. I had an hour to close this deal.
“I had the lawyers draw up the paperwork yesterday,” Orson told me, taking a manila folder off of the stack on his desk.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the folder and leafing through the papers. I skimmed them until I reached a low-resolution map of the area with the parcels highlighted. “This isn’t what we agreed on.” I frowned.
“You haven’t married my daughter yet.”
I forced myself to remain calm. “I had dinner with her.”
“And it’s a good step in the right direction. These are decent parcels,” Orson said, tapping the paper with his pen.
“These aren’t what the Svenssons wanted.”
“They still provide connection to the HighLine, just on the other side. You’re smart
boys; you can make it work. And once you’ve married my daughter, you can have the other parcels.”
I glanced at the clock. I was out of options.
“Let’s do this then.”
We spent another hour signing the paperwork and having my bank wire the money over to Sutherland Bank. Then I raced everything over to the Svenssons.
“And Cinderella makes it in right before the clock strikes twelve!” Archer declared as I jogged into the Svenssons’ office.
Greg didn’t look up. He simply held out his hand. I gave him the folder with the paperwork, and he looked through it with a frown.
“I know this isn’t the property I promised,” I explained.
Hunter looked over his brother’s shoulder.
“One of these buildings is a co-op,” Hunter said, taking the folder and scanning the list of properties. “That’s going to be difficult to remove the residents from. Oh, wait, this says that you now own all of the units except for one that we’ll have to buy out before we demolish the buildings.” Hunter closed the folder.
“I suppose it’s the best we’ve got. Welcome on board, Evan.” He shook my hand.
Archer danced up beside me. Hunter glared at him.
“What is wrong with you?”
“You owe me!” Archer said in a sing-song voice.
Hunter made a disgusted noise and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. I looked between them.
“Hunter bet that you wouldn’t be able to pull this off,” Greg said, still flipping through the paperwork. “Archer, for some reason, had faith in you.”
“I’m trying to convince him to buy that Brookview clock tower penthouse and get it off my ledger.”
“Please do that,” Greg said to me. “Archer and Mike are never doing another renovation like that again. Next historic building with a tower, we’re just going to blow the top off.”
“Let’s go celebrate!” Archer announced, waving the hundred-dollar bill in my face.
“I would,” I said, “but I already have a cake event planned.”