“Cecil…”
I thought he was joking and stared at him as I waited for him to reveal his real name. He didn’t.
“Cecil…” I said again. “That’s a really, erm, unusual name. Never met one before.”
“Yes, it was my great-grandfather’s name. All the men in my family are called Cecil. I’m technically Cecil the fourth but I can’t really go around introducing myself to people like that. It would be weird you know. And anyway…”
He continued talking and I drifted off. He was quite possibly the most boring person I had ever met. He was so boring it was almost bizarre. I imagined if it was the nineteen fifties he’d have a peculiar job like a traveling bible salesman. I watched as he spoke without listening to a word he said. He was excited by his own existence, no matter how abysmal it was. I felt like I was talking to an older, plumper version of Norman Bates. Actually, he looked a bit like a serial killer. I bet he had people in his crawlspace.
“So that’s how I won the scrabble contest,” he finally finished his droning story.
“Awesome,” I nodded and turned back to my work.
I looked at the clock. It was quarter past nine.
Chapter Seven
There were tears streaming down my face from yawning. The room was stuffy and warm with the smell of moth balls and paper sticking to my clothes. I wanted to sleep and had to stop myself from lying on the desk and dozing off. The day was almost over but in the windowless vacuum, it felt as though I’d been there a week. The piles of paper kept growing no matter how many times I worked through them. It was endless… and boring.
Meanwhile, Cecil sat behind me, only looking up from his work to ogle my body. If it was anybody else I’d be worried, but he looked so unfit and blubbery that if he tried to touch me I could fight him off with my pinky, or run faster than a snail. Still, as I faced the wall, one hand on the photocopier and the other propping up my head, I could hear the way he ran his tongue over his parched lips, like a bug scurrying over sandpaper.
“How are you liking your first day, Tammy?”
“Erm… Yeah, it’s ok I guess.”
It was the most pleasant thing I could think of saying.
“So you’re in here every day then?” he asked with a little too much glee.
He rubbed his hands together and gave me a look that may have been his attempt at a seductive pose.
“Yeah… here every day.”
The thought was killing me.
“Well, it was a pleasure meeting you. I have a hot date tonight so I better get going.”
“A hot date eh?”
“Yep,” he grinned sheepishly. “With my four cats and a rerun of the Gilmore Girls.”
Oh dear, I thought.
“Any chance of a hug before I leave?”
He outstretched his hands toward me.
“What?” I recoiled back in horror.
A knock on the door saved me. It was the scowling woman from before. She looked as horrified as I did when she stumbled across Cecil flapping his arms open like a seal.
“Tammy,” she said officiously as she handed over an envelope. “You’ve been invited.”
“Invited to what?” I asked but she was already gone.
Cecil peered over my shoulder and looked down at the envelope.
“Lucky you! It’s your first day and you’re already in with the popular kids.”
Shut up, Cecil, I thought. I sliced open the top of the envelope with my fingernail and pulled out the card. Gilded in gold, I saw it was an invitation to a party… at Trevor Wylde’s apartment. There wasn’t much information.
10 pm, the Wylde Suite, top floor, Windermere, wear black.
My heart raced. Finally, I was going to be with some exciting people and far away from the letch beside me.
“Think you’re allowed a plus one?” Cecil asked.
“Er… No.”
He looked hurt and I felt bad.
“Your cats need you, Cecil. They’ll be expecting you,” I joked.
His face brightened up.
“You’re right. Those tuna cans won’t open themselves,” he smiled.
This guy was a freak show.
“Anyway, I better get ready for the party,” I grabbed my bag. “See you tomorrow.”
“Let me know how it goes!”
I closed the door on him.
Chapter Eight
I was hungry but I couldn’t eat because of the butterflies that were rampant in my stomach. I’d tried half a dozen black dresses on but I couldn’t decide which one was best. Was I to look classy and sophisticated with most of my skin hidden or was Wylde expecting a young party girl with a big cleavage to show off? After trying everything on one last time, I eventually settled on something sleek and stretchy. It reached my knees and rose up to my neck but still revealed what I had to offer. With one last slick of lip gloss, I was ready to go.
I rode up to the top floor in the elevator, checking my appearance in the mirrored walls. I had to look perfect if I wanted Wylde to notice me again. Something told me that he only lusted after the best. As I stepped out onto the top floor I could hear the music already. It sounded live, a string quartet playing a melancholy tune. It was going to be a fancier party than I expected. For a moment I hesitated, thought about turning around and hurrying back to my apartment. What if I looked stupid? Trashy? Out of my depth?
The door to Wylde’s penthouse was in front of me, sleek and unassuming but mysterious. As I approached, the music got louder. There was a tinkle of laughter from inside, the clinking of glasses. As I reached out a hand to knock on the door it opened as if by magic. A butler looked pleased to see me. He handed me a glass of champagne with a cherry bobbing in it.
“Welcome!” he gestured for me to enter. “I saw you on the intercom. If you were wondering how I knew you were there.”
“Oh, actually I did.”
“Let’s show you around.”
It wasn’t the sort of party I expected. In fact, it wasn’t much of a party at all. As I was shown into the lounge I was confronted with only six people; four men and two girls. A small orchestra entertained them from a vestibule to the side of the room.
“You made it!” Wylde stood up. “I was worried that you wouldn’t want to come.”
I was dumbfounded into silence. There was something so intimate about the occasion, personal and… expectant. As I sat amongst the group I could see they were all looking at me, their lips moist and their eyes hungry.
“She’s brilliant, Trevor,” one of the men said as he gulped on his scotch. “Where did you find her?”
“She’s interning with us,” he sat behind me, his presence looming up over my back.
“Lucky you,” an older gentleman to my left joined in, “She’s exquisite.”
He leaned down, resting his elbows on his knees and whispered in my ear.
“I think you’ll fit in very well here.”
I was going to move, was on the cusp of running away when I felt Wylde’s fingers on my head. He was stroking my hair, petting me as I sat on the floor between his legs. Tingles shot over my scalp. I sipped on my champagne to calm myself down but it only made my heart race faster and my head feel woozy.
Across from me, the two girls were sharing a seat, their legs tangled up in one another’s. The brunette was feeding the blonde strawberries, dipping them in a bowl of cream before placing them between the blonde’s lips. They giggled as the cream fell on the blonde’s chest, running between her breasts. The brunette leaned down and licked it from her lithe body.
The only thing that shocked me more than this spectacle was their dresses. Ornate and divine, they draped around the limbs of the stick thing girls like angel spun gossamer. Pearls adorned the blonde’s blue gown while the brunette’s dress was scattered in crystals. They looked like moving theater sets, their clothes like the night sky and the jewels the stars.
“Don’t worry about them,” the man to my right leaned down sensing my nervou
sness. “They’re just showing off. They like to get all the attention.”
“Yeah take it as a compliment,” Wylde whispered in my ear. “They’re just jealous because they have competition for once.”
His breath lingered on my neck, made me wet as soon as the moistness graced my skin. I pushed my sex into the floor as it began to throb.
“You’re beautiful,” Wylde tilted my head to the side, exposing my neck as though he was a vampire going in for the kill. “You’re perfect.”
He traced a finger over my jugular.
“She’s so pale, almost like porcelain,” another man said.
I was growing weary of them talking about me as though I wasn’t there but at the same time, there was a certain thrill that came from being desired. As I glanced across the room, my eyes made contact with a man sat on the arm of a velvet chair that was as decadent as it was large. He was slanted in his posture, a drunken yet sexual stance that thrust the bulge in his pants in my direction. I could see he was hard already, his eyes fixed on Wylde’s fingers as they caressed my neck.
“Since I saw you yesterday, I knew I wanted you.”
He grabbed the glass from my hand and took it away from me, placing it on the floor out of my reach. Then he bent down and kissed my neck, his lips were gentle but firm. I let out a gasp. He kissed his way lower and my nipples became erect, protruding through the sheer, flimsy fabric of my dress.
Wylde gripped my jaw with his hand and pulled me toward him. I had no choice but to let his lips touch mine. They tasted sweet like alcohol. I placed my hands around his neck and pulled him closer.
My body reacted to him immediately, growing soft and eager inside his arms. His hand caressed my lower back, his warmth sinking into my dress. Then he pulled away and looked me up and down.
“Just what I wanted,” he bit his lower lip.
He gave his friends a wry smile, looking at them out the corner of his eyes before giving them a conspiratorial wink.
“Go right ahead, pal,” the older man beside me slapped Wylde on the back.
My stomach began to flutter. Was I expected to have sex right there, in that room with an audience? As I turned around I saw everyone in the room looking at me, waiting for me to do something. I looked up to Wylde with helpless eyes, hoping he’d tell me what to do.
“You’ve never been to one of these parties before, have you?”
I shook my head.
“I thought as much,” he stroked the side of my face. “That’s why I wanted you here. You’ve no idea how hard it is to find a new girl with your qualities.”
“Impossible to find new meat!” one of his friends chimed in.
Wylde glared at him.
“Your manners, Clive, mind them.”
There was a giggle from behind me. The girls were whispering into each other’s ears, their hair falling luxuriously over their bodies. When they sensed my eyes on them they stared at me then looked at one another before giggling once again. I’d never felt more self-conscious in my life but still, between my legs was the steady flow of liquid passion. I turned my attention back to Wylde as his hands stroked me lovingly. His fingers were on my neck, massaging in little circular motions.
“How about we get out of here?” he whispered in my ear.
His hot voice on my skin left me breathless, made my heart beat a little faster, made the insides my of thighs stickier. I parted my lips to speak but found that nothing came out except a nervous croak. He found my anxiety amusing and wrapped a hand around my wrist like a cuff.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you away from these weirdos.”
His friends scoffed and laughed and I felt my cheeks burn. What was wrong with me? I loved an audience, didn’t I? Being watched turned me on, didn’t it? I could put my finger on the feeling in my gut. There was something so menacing about the girls, something so predatory about the men in the suits, their erections bulging casually as they sipped scotch and talked to one another. Then it dawned on me. Control. For once it wasn’t me who had it.
Wylde linked his hand in mine and pulled me gently away from the lounge. His apartment was cavernous, a great big open planned museum filled with artifacts I didn’t understand and priceless art that looks almost grotesque. As we left the others, I could see behind the kitchen lay a wall that partitioned the living area from the more private parts. I guessed it was where the bedrooms lay. We ambled down a hallway, my heels sinking into the deep, thick carpet as we walked. Beside me, Wylde stood tall, so tall that even in my stilettos I just reached his shoulders. He looked down at me and smiled, the cleft in his chin emphasized by the overhead lights.
“Almost there,” he placed a hand on my back. “We’re just going in here.”
He pushed open a black door. I was immediately hit by the smell of incense, sandalwood if I wasn’t mistaken. It gave the room a musky odor, one that seemed wild and earthy. Then I saw it, the bed. It was covered in soft, plush fabric in all varieties of red. A few steps from it was the balcony. The doors were wide open, the breeze blowing in the soft, lace curtains.
“Come see the view,” he said with his fingers still around my wrist. “It’s beautiful.”
The air was chilled as we stepped out, blowing my hair around my face like a scarf. I’d never been good with heights and vertigo was always so eager to set in if I so much as glanced over the edge of a bridge. As I felt the champagne go to my head, the ground beneath me seemed to sway. I stumbled in my heels and grabbed the railing. My hair tumbled over the side and down the building. It was so far down I couldn’t see the sidewalk, just blackness with a few orange lights punctuating the abyss. Taking a deep breath, I looked up across the city skyline. Far away lights in distant skyscrapers lit the sky like synthetic stars. It was beautiful, with every light in every window telling a different story. I wondered how many girls were teetering in their heels on the edge of a penthouse on the brink of having the time of their life. I guessed not that many.
“It’s remarkable,” he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and looked down. “But I guess you’re not that into heights eh?”
I gulped and shook my head.
“I didn’t think you’d be afraid of anything,” he said with half his face framed by the moonlight.
“I’m afraid of lots of things,” I turned toward the bedroom. “I just don’t tell anyone.”
I stepped back inside, welcoming the firmness of the ground against my feet and the warmth of the indoors. He followed behind and closed the doors.
“I’m very fond of this room,” his voice suddenly became quite serious.
He opened the doors of the drinks cabinet and perused the shelves of expensive spirits. It seemed so normal to him that for a moment I didn’t question why someone would have such a decadent thing in their bedroom. Yet as I looked around I realized this wasn’t his bedroom. There were no personal touches, no trinkets or photos. This was a room just for guests like me. I looked to the bed and wondered how many girls had lay amongst the red sheets.
“Yes, really fond of this room,” he reiterated.
In the subtle glow of the single lamp, his features appeared softer, almost boyish. Then he stood up straight and his regal face returned, all chiseled cheekbones and a strong nose. He looked like a Greek hero, one that I’d read about in books as a child. As I looked at this thick arms and broad chest I wondered if he was capable of slaying a Minotaur.
“Absinthe?” he asked.
“Absinthe?” I repeated.
I hadn’t tried it before. It wasn’t something the local kids in my tiny hometown drank on the streets at the weekends. I looked at the tumbler of toxic looking green liquid in his hand and squinted. In the dim light of the bedroom it somehow didn’t look real. He took a step closer and placed the glass in my hand.
“Try it,” he urged. “I think you’ll like it.
I wasn’t sure but took a sip anyway. The first thing I noticed was the numbing of my top lip. It tingled, felt as though I wa
s getting lip injections. Then the sour tang of the liquor hit my palette and danced on my tongue. I grimaced and swallowed it down.
“Oh my God!”
My face must have been a picture as it shriveled up in shock. He laughed, a kind and playful snigger as he amused himself with my discomfort.
“The stuff’s deadly,” he said.
He knocked back his own shot like an expert.
“Did you know it literally comes from the old Greek word for undrinkable?”
“Interesting.”
“Yep!” he slammed his empty glass down. “The old, green fairy will take you to places you could only imagine. Did you also know it can cause hallucinations?”
“I did not.”
I was starting to get worried now. He was beginning to ramble, starting to wander off on a tangent. Not that it made him any less attractive. If anything it made him sexier, stranger, more mysterious.
“It was a favorite amongst most Bohemians, the artistic rebels, and Libertines. You know…,” he ran a hand through his hair and sat on the end of his bed. “I always thought that if I were alive a hundred years ago I would have definitely lived in Paris, Montmartre definitely and been at the center of all the hedonistic parties. Hey… You could have been dancing in the Moulin Rouge!”
“I love that movie!”
His face dropped, his eyebrows furrowing together.
“Anyway… Do you like it?”
I wanted to tell him I did. I so desperately didn’t want to disappoint him and seem cheap. The girls out there in the lounge, they probably drank absinthe daily, had probably even been to Paris and valued everything he talked about. They probably had smashed avocado on toast with goji berries for breakfast washed it down with organic wheatgrass juice. I, on the other hand, had been raised on a diet of cheeseburgers and strawberry milkshake. I’d gone out partying and drank beer at keg parties. I didn’t know anything about Paris. As much as I wanted to say I loved the stinking green liquid in my hand, all I could say was:
“I hate it.”
Too Curious Complete Series (Books 1-5) Box Set Romance Series: (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Series) Page 3