Unscrupulous

by Avery Aster

  “Yes. Do you honestly think I would’ve kissed you if I was getting married?” He looked her over seductively. With any luck, it would remind her of what they’d shared.

  “Totally.”

  “Touched you?” He focused his attention on the exact spot his hands had been.

  “Maybe.”

  “Invited you back to my place?” He had her there.

  “No, I suppose not.” Taddy shrugged it off. “Our night was a misunderstanding and so is this week’s fiasco.”

  “I’ll drop the charges if you hold your press conference tomorrow morning. Work on your strategy today.” He paused. “Tonight you can show me what you’ve come up with over dinner.”

  “Sounds fair enough,” she confirmed.

  “If your press conference fails, we finish what we started at Privé Extreme.” Warner hoped they’d succeed at both. He could always get another hotel, but he could never find another Red.

  “Deal.” She extended a firm handshake and relaxed her face into a slight grin. Finally, he saw the whites of her teeth. Straight and perfect, they matched the rest of her features.

  All this arguing made him ravenous. “Can I take you to lunch? We could eat at La Palme d’Or over on Boulevard de la Croisette and discuss your media approach further.” He loved their tables on the terrace. They overlooked the Bay of Cannes.

  Suddenly Red straddled the back of the chair. She dropped her shoulders and teased him with her breasts. Warner remembered stroking her sensitive nipples in his hands. He’d enjoyed seeing her face blush in pleasure as his fingers slid in to her weeping hole. When his eyes met hers, she spoke. “Do you have any clue how much work is ahead of us to pull off this conference?” Turning for the door, she whispered over her shoulder, “See you tonight, Mr. Truman.”

  I haven’t seen you since December. It took me five months, but I got you, Red!

  * * * * *

  Outside, Taddy spoke to the journalists who’d gathered on the street. They’d clamored for a response from Hôtel du France. She hosted a short two-minute pre-press media alert and told the world to tune in tomorrow for bigger news with their CEO, Mr. Warner Truman.

  Kiki was ready to go home. Not back to Manhattan but Utah. She’d called her family from jail and they agreed some time in Provo would be good for her.

  DJ Dejon who’d been arrested with Kiki had waited at a nearby café until Kiki was released. His record label had sprung for his bail earlier. Warner had also dropped the charges against him. When Taddy first met Dejon, she’d grilled him on his intentions with Kiki. Taddy concluded he was a great match for Kiki. He seemed like an upstanding guy, especially when she’d learned Dejon had advised Kiki against inviting the adult actors to their room. When he and Kiki had first arrived in Cannes, he’d tried to score his own private melonlicious time with her.

  Afraid to be alone with Dejon, Kiki had hung out with Manuel and Caramel as a distraction. “Better Manuel and Caramel having sex, than me with Dejon,” Kiki had revealed to Taddy when she was packing up her things. “Dejon puts butterflies in my stomach I’ve never felt before.” She couldn’t imagine losing her virginity, but Lord, how she wanted to. “Please thank Mr. Truman for dropping the charges.” Her assistant opened the door to Taddy’s rental car and climbed in with her bags.

  “I’m glad that’s over.” Taddy apologized to Kiki for possibly being overly sexed the past few months. She told Kiki she just wanted to see her happy.

  During the drive to the nearby Mandelieu Airport, Taddy hoped she could get her assistant to change her mind and stay. “Are you sure you want to leave Cannes?”

  “Yes.” Kiki held on to her bag as if it was all she owned.

  Taddy shifted the Peugeot into fifth gear as they zipped east down Avenue Bachaga Said Boualam. She didn’t have much time to get the press conference organized but wanted to make sure she gave her goodbyes to Kiki. “If you change your mind and stay, I could take you shopping once the press conference is over.” The car’s radio played unfamiliar French pop music. She turned it down. “We could spend the day in Rue d’Antibes. They have the best—”

  “No.” Kiki shook her head.

  She tried again to encourage her assistant to stay. “Blake emailed me a nightlife schedule. We could make our rounds.

  “No way!”

  “You have tickets for the Vanity Fair party and let’s not forget the gorgeous dress, which you have yet to wear. I could do your hair.” Please stay. I feel horrible about suggesting you watch those darn videos.

  “You can go in my place, Miss Brill.” Her face tilted toward the window.

  She patted her assistant’s leg. “I could get us into the Marie Claire party. Rumor has it Prince Harry and Zac Efron are attending. How fun, let’s—”

  “There’s something about being handcuffed while ten thousand horny people chant ‘Fuck her! Fuck her!’ in your face that makes you not want to party.” She turned toward Taddy and added, “Or be seen in public.”

  “Gotcha.” She lowered the visor. The early-afternoon sun shone bright white and yellow across the Mediterranean beaches. Glasslike, the water gleamed back at her as if saying everything on the French Riviera existed for pleasure.

  “One night in jail and I’m ready to leave France.” Kiki squeezed Taddy’s hand to show her gratitude for the bail-out. “Thank you for buying my airline ticket to Utah to see my folks for a few days. I’m homesick.”

  Taddy’s sadness over Kiki leaving Cannes eased at the thought of her in Utah. She wanted Kiki’s family to get close again and had called the airline for a ticket before they’d left the police station. “Your trip home is a blessing.”

  “How so?”

  “You’ll make right with your family.” She hoped Kiki would return as promised. Assistants often left the city for a break and never returned. That was the reason Taddy resisted bonding with her employees. They never lasted. Devastated when one would resign or quit on the spot, over the years she found if she distanced herself from them, it would be easier when they left. Taddy had learned as a teen if she didn’t want to get hurt, she couldn’t get attached.

  “My parents are looking forward to meeting Dejon. I’m relieved he’s flying back with me. He texted to say he’d meet me at the airline check-in counter.”

  “Dejon is perfect for you. He’s young and lanky with ET-like fingers. You know what they say about men with his body type, don’t you?”

  “No. What?” Kiki’s face was expressionless.

  “Lanky men are…sweet and treat their girlfriends like ladies.” Taddy smiled. They’re hung like horses. “When you came out from jail and Dejon took you into his arms, I was moved.” She lowered her sunglasses over her eyes. “Such lovebirds you two make.”

  “These feelings are new for me.” Kiki’s neck blotched in response.

  “Enjoy what you have with Dejon. Love is hard to find.” She thought back to the guy she’d dated last. It’d been a few years since then.

  “What about you?” Kiki lifted her seat belt, pressing her back against the car door.

  “Me?” Taddy adjusted the air-conditioning vent to blow on her face. The rental car’s newness was making her nose itchy.

  “When we left the police station, Mr. Truman didn’t take his eyes off you.”

  “Yes, he’s got hawk eyes.” They are also golden and change colors from green to brown and make me go into Candy Land. Her palms became slippery, causing her to grip the steering wheel tighter. She sat taller in her seat, clenched her thighs together and pushed down on the gas with her right foot. “Warner is…handsome.”

  “Handsome?” Kiki repeated. “Next to Dejon, he’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen. When Mr. Truman stepped outside, the women on the sidewalk fell over each other. Even men stare at him.” She giggled.

  “You’re exaggerating. Warner’s tall, he’s easy to spot.” The airport’s signs came into view. Kiki’s first flight would take her to Paris. It boarded from Terminal Deux.


  “I’ve never seen muscles as large as Mr. Truman’s. Those arms, my goodness. I’d love to see you happy and with someone…similar to him.” Kiki studied Taddy’s face, waiting for a response or for her to reveal some tidbit she’d missed.

  Taddy shifted the car down a gear and pulled into the traffic lined up at the airport’s entrance. “Thank you for worrying. I’m fine. Mr. Lee pedicured me before I came to France.” She winked. “I have my friends, my staff, my money—I’m good.” Lies, but if she kept saying this rubbish out loud, maybe she’d believe it.

  “Do you remember when I started at the agency?”

  “Vaguely,” Taddy joked.

  “You mentioned your fondness for red? You said you’re as intense as the color.” Kiki rolled up her window. “You said red helps people to make snap decisions, and embodies strength and power.”

  “I remember.” She’d lived by red.

  “As we’ve worked together this year, I can say those descriptions suit you.” She gave Taddy an admiring stare, one Taddy never witnessed from any employee.

  “Your words mean a lot to me, thank you.”

  “Do you know what else comes to mind when I think about you and the color red?” Kiki’s eyes filled with tears.

  She pulled the rental up at the drop-off spot, pressed on the brake and threw the transmission into park. “No, what?”

  “Your passion for life, the confidence you have within you to move forward and the love you give to others and deserve, but never expect in return.” Kiki grabbed the doorknob.

  I love you, Kiki, thank you for saying this to me. It means more than you know. Taddy’s throat tightened. Hot tears came down her face. Quickly, she wiped them away.

  If Kiki noticed, she didn’t say anything. “I hope you give someone a chance someday. Dejon even said you were quite the catch.”

  She laughed. “Tell Dejon thank you.” Reaching for Kiki’s shoulder, she confirmed, “I’ll see you back in Manhattan in one week.”

  “Only if we don’t talk about Cannes or your porn collection ever again.” Kiki wiped her eyes dry.

  “Darling, it’s a deal.” Taddy hugged her. “Give your parents my best.”

  “Will do.”

  “One question—did you see Manuel Coq de la Grande in action?” Taddy wanted to lighten the mood before she left.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Tell me everything!” The way Manuel would manhandle his ladies with all that deep penetration, smacking, choking and hardcore fucking, she’d surmised the women didn’t act, they orgasmed for real, and in multiples.

  “I took photos. I’ll email them to you. I may sell them on eBought.” She held out her tablet computer from her purse and showed a few photos. “You’re worried I won’t be back.”

  “True.”

  “You have my word. In a week, I’ll be ready to rule the media world with you.” Kiki pulled her duffle bag from the backseat.

  “Thank you for the reassurance. Bye, darling.” Taddy waited until Kiki stepped into the terminal before starting her drive back into town. She thought about her assistant and how much she’d grown over the last year and how happy she was for finding Dejon. It was possible flying four thousand miles to meet a guy wasn’t so bad, minus a night in jail.

  Kiki’s words replayed in her head. “The love you give to others and deserve, but never expect in return.” After years of being labeled a ruthless bitch by her staff, Taddy found significance in her assistant understanding how much she cared. It may have taken a decade with thirty or forty associates, but finally one of them noticed. If she could just do it for her personal life, she’d be set.

  Warner came to mind, sending a quiver through her body. As much as she tried to push him from her thoughts, he didn’t go away.

  Once on the main road, she reached for her cell. Noon in Cannes meant sunrise in Manhattan. Taddy texted Lex, “Awake?”

  Her cell rang in response. Smiling, she answered, “Morning, Lex.”

  “Hey, stranger—you’re up early.” Lex greeted her and sounded as if she was already hours into her day. “Wasup?”

  “Glad I caught you. I’m in Cannes for work and wanted to hear your voice.” She accelerated, taking a free lane.

  “Aw, how sweet. I miss you too.” From behind Lex’s voice, Taddy thought she heard a snipping noise.

  “Where are you?”

  “At Easton’s showroom.”

  “It’s Sunday…”

  “I’m cutting fabric.”

  “Why?”

  “To get my collection finished.”

  “How’s it coming?”

  “I’m running low. I worked ‘til about midnight yesterday and came back in at five this morning.” Snip, snip, snip.

  “You sound tired.”

  “Thank God for Vitamin B shots, huh?” Lex laughed but Taddy could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

  “Why don’t you go home and get some rest. Take the morning off and—” She cut herself short, as the spa suggestions rose to her lips. It reminded her of Kiki’s persistence for a work-life balance. It annoyed her when she’d heard it so she understood Lex’s position. “Get some rest.”

  “Wishful thinking, I don’t have time. Barneys’ orders are keeping me on my toes. I need to send samples to the factory today. Next is Saks Fifth Avenue.”

  “How’s Birdie?”

  “Mom talked to your Aunt Muffie at the Colony Club…they lunched. And Mom showed your aunt the Today’s Business article that you’re in.”

  “Why is Birdie carrying that article around?”

  “You’re on the cover.”

  “So?”

  “She’s proud of you. We’ll talk when you get home.” Lex’s voice sounded as if she had an agenda.

  “Not sure I like the sound of this…”

  Lex laughed. “Call me when you get home and we’ll talk. No sense in worrying you.” The snipping sounds increased. “Crap, I’m cutting the wrong end. I should get back to finishing my work. I need both hands.”

  “I love you, Lex.”

  The phone clicked. Lex didn’t hear her.

  She held the phone in her hand for a few seconds then turned it off. She wondered if Lex felt as miserable as she sounded with her workload. Lex wouldn’t complain or let on if she was. And what did her aunt want?

  What are you up to, Auntie Muffie?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sweet Baby Jesus on an Ice Cream Cone

  Taddy hadn’t lied to Warner at the police station earlier when commenting on Hôtel du France’s press. It was massive. Massively bad! If Truman Enterprises had been a client, sure enough they’d be fired now. On the flight over to Cannes, she’d witnessed the media shitstorm coming down the pipeline on Air France’s in-flight TV monitors. Passengers onboard had joked. The middle-aged man reeking of cigar smoke who’d sat next to her had commented, “Man…I bet if I stayed at that hotel, my sex life would be amazing.”

  “Disgusting,” snorted the woman who’d sat to her right.

  A flight attendant had asked over the loudspeakers if anyone planned on staying at Hôtel du France. The passengers had laughed. As she’d sunk down in her seat, Taddy knew she’d have to barter her publicity genius and branding expertise to spring Kiki from jail. This was all her fault.

  Hôtel du France was familiar to her. She’d stayed there many Cannes Film Festivals prior. Her idea to transform the property into the sexiest locale on the French Riviera had come easy to her. By six in the evening, she’d printed out tomorrow morning’s strategy for Warner to review and dropped the folder off at his room. A maid who wouldn’t let her past the VIP area had said, “Monsieur Truman is out for a walk on the beach. I’ll be sure he receives your package.”

  Due to Cannes’ popularity and the hotels being sold out, Taddy didn’t have any choice except to stay at Hôtel du France. Warner gave her the executive suite that had been used by Kip Van Scott. She’d returned to her room for a short nap and then dressed for dinner. Was she n
ervous? Yes.

  They’d agreed to meet at eight o’clock.

  She stepped off the elevator wearing a strapless coral metallic jacquard Stella McCartney cocktail dress. Easy to spot, the acclaimed Bernard Guillaume restaurant took up Hôtel du France’s second floor. Taddy mentioned her name to the hostess and was escorted to a private area in the back.

  “You look better each time I see you.” Warner stood at the white linen covered table. Dressed in a light-gray suit, he had his hair slicked back with a part to the right side. He appeared freshly shaven.

  “Thank you. You too.” Taddy gave him a hug, wrapping her hands around his V-shaped back and torso as far as she could reach. She initially intended to kiss him on the cheek and give a tap to his shoulder, but his arms came wide and took her in close.

  Warner picked her a smidge off her feet as he squeezed. You’re strong. He pressed into her as she felt his muscles. You’re hard. His erection grazed her as well. You’re hung.

  After she’d caught her breath, he pulled the chair out for her to sit down. He scooted her in with one swift swoop. She giggled. Warner sat across from her. “Bernard Guillaume, our head chef, prepared a few house specials.” The table setting was intimate, as she’d hoped. The sun had bronzed Warner’s cheeks and forehead, making his teeth white when he spoke.

  “I’ve read about Bernard’s dishes for years. His TV show is quite entertaining. I’m looking forward to this.” Suddenly, she felt Warner’s long legs shifting to find their place under the table. His knees rested against hers. The delicious pressure assured her that he was there and had no intention of leaving.

  “Did Kiki get off to the airport okay?” He lifted a champagne bottle from the silver bucket and nodded his head for permission to pour. It was Dom Perignon Rosé.

  Taddy handed him her glass. “Yes she did, thank you. Kiki has texted a few times, reminding me to extend her gratitude to you for dropping the charges.” She tapped her flute against his and nodded.

  “Cheers!” He waited for her to take a sip. “Your assistant is a little firecracker.”