by Marni Mann
“Damn…Mr. Block will be impressed.”
“I think it will take more than two offers to impress him, but I do think it’s a good sign of what’s to come.”
“None of the units are even on the MLS yet and the first person you show the pocket listing to wants to submit a contract that’s worth over five million. Yeah, I’d say this is definitely a good sign.”
I sent Derek a text:
Me: I’ll be submitting two offers later today. Same buyer. Includes a penthouse. Thought you’d want to know.
I looked up just as the waitress returned with our wine. After she filled our glasses, Brea held hers up in the air. “Should we toast to the first offer?”
I smiled. “I think that’s appropriate.”
“To two down, one hundred and seventy-nine more to go!” Our glasses clinked.
I knew the units would start moving fast once we held the brokers open, and they were all listed on the MLS. Derek didn’t have much competition in the new construction arena. Maybe then our relationship would make more sense because he would no longer be a client.
“To that,” I said.
“And to Mr. Block’s dick, for turning you into a smiling fool and making you the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”
I almost choked. “I can’t believe we’re toasting to that.”
“It’s not just a that; it’s a dick, and they’re important.” We laughed. “And it’s not just any dick; it’s Mr. Block’s dick.”
My skin flushed as I thought of how I’d referred to him as Mr. Block and the punishment he’d doled out. I’d screamed for more of his tongue, his fingers…of him. I’d enjoyed it more than he probably intended. “Mr. Block…”
“No. Mr. Block’s dick.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I got that part.”
“Say it with me, Frankie: Dick. Dick. Dick. It’s like: Orgasm. Orgasm. Orgasm. They go hand in hand…or dick in hand. You get the point.”
“You’re too much…” my voice trailed off as Derek’s name appeared on the screen of my phone:
Derek: You’re so fucking sexy when you talk business. As sexy as when you talk about my cock and tell me how badly you want it and how hard you want me to fuck you with it.
I couldn’t escape the dick talk. It didn’t matter. Even if Brea hadn’t brought it up, even if I wasn’t hearing it or reading it, I was thinking about it. Wanting it. Craving it more than I should have been during a business lunch.
“He’s texting you, isn’t he?” She leaned into the table and tried to peek at my phone.
“He is.” I took a sip of my wine.
“Is he talking about his dick, too? He should be. EVERYONE should be. ”
I felt the blush rise again. “No, he isn’t.”
“Liar. I can see it all over your face.” She tore off the corner of her bread and threw it at me. “Not only have you found a man who actually knows how to use his dick and one that can give you multiple orgasms, but you’ve found someone who likes to talk about it, too.” Her face was glowing. “He’s dirty. And you know I like ‘em dirty. Jesus, Frankie, I’m officially jealous.” She stood quickly and I thought she was going to come to my side of the table and read what he’d written. She took a few steps instead and looked at me over her shoulder. “I’m going to the ladies. Don’t get crazy while I’m gone—that means keeping your hands above the tablecloth at all times.”
“Brea!” I gasped.
She winked and walked away.
I looked back at my phone and typed a reply:
Me: I want it. When am I getting more of it?
Derek: Tonight. Dinner. Then I get to eat you.
Derek was used to getting everything he wanted. He wasn’t used to being challenged. Something told me he’d want me even more if I resisted a little.
Me: I’m not sure if I’m free. Give me a little bit and I’ll check my schedule.
Derek: Make yourself free.
Me: I’ll see what I can do.
Derek: The Hole. 7:00. No exceptions.
I smiled as I slipped my phone into my purse.
NINE.
DEREK
I HAD TWENTY MINUTES before I had to meet Frankie at The Hole. Twenty minutes until I got to taste those perfect lips and run my hands over that phenomenal body. I’d been thinking about her all afternoon. Fuck…I’d been thinking about her since the moment I left her condo. But issues had arisen at the jobsite today—problems with the plumbing, wrong electrical switches had been ordered, paint that came in a few shades too dark. Her texts had made it better, made it all feel insignificant. Not just the thought of having her tonight, but the thought of her, of Frankie.
The one I was supposed to stay away from, and the one I couldn’t get enough of now.
My cock had been hard almost all day—from her texts, from teasing me about dinner and not agreeing until a few hours ago, from the thought of what would happen afterward. Her lack of submission made me want to drive to her office and fuck her on her desk.
Dinner was going to be a short one.
I turned off my computer and grabbed my bag. Before I could make it past my desk, Will came into my office. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you.”
“If it’s going to cause me to be late, then you’re right.”
“Randy’s here. He’s in the lobby and wants to speak with you. Security is with him, and they’re going to escort him out, but I wanted to tell you before they do.”
“Motherfucker.” I slammed my bag down on top of the desk. “What does he want?”
“He wouldn’t say. He just asked to speak with you… insisted, actually.” Will stepped back into the hallway. “We’ve been waiting for this. I’m surprised it took him this long to come here.”
I caught up to him and we walked to the lobby. “He couldn’t have picked a worse night.”
Randy stood near the front entrance, with security guards on both sides of him. He looked grayer, older. Beaten from exhaustion. More haggard than he had at the gala, or maybe the patio had just lacked good lighting.
Will and I stopped several feet away. My fists wouldn’t be able to reach him unless I took a few steps. “You got me here, now what do you want?”
There was always a look of confidence on his face, and I never knew why. The man had nothing—no family, no friends, not even a decent amount of success. All he had was a new piece of land in Hull that wasn’t worth what he was paying for it, a track record of shady deals, and a realtor who liked to suck my cock.
He shoved his hands into his jeans, spreading his feet apart. “I want a tour of Timber Towers, son.”
I laughed so hard, my throat went dry. “You want a tour? Of my building?”
“You followed me to Boston, so I want a goddamn tour of the building that you think is so much better than mine.” He glared at the security guard when he clamped his hand around Randy’s arm.
My building was better than his—all of them were, as were my residential homes. Hell, even the storage shed I had built behind my house was more sound than the shit he called quality construction. He cut corners; he used cheap materials. He barely met code. I didn’t know why anyone would ever buy from him. But the fact that he sold his units didn’t bother me as much as his total disregard for the poor, innocent bastards he employed and the conditions they worked in. They deserved better…I knew that first-hand.
“You don’t want a tour, Randy.” He didn’t flinch. “So why did you really come here?” I felt the guard’s eyes on my face, waiting for my signal to drag him out—or to hold him steady while I knocked him out. One of the two would eventually happen if this visit lasted much longer.
“I came to warn you.” His jaw jutted out. He looked like a bulldog with a severe underbite. “Stay away from my land, son. I don’t know what you’re up to, and I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but I don’t like it one bit.”
I didn’t know how he’d gotten the information that I’d been looking into his
land. Tamra wouldn’t have been the one to tell him; I was sure she was still loyal to me, and would stay that way. I just needed to wean her completely off my dick and double-up on her pay.
“You’re not my concern, and you never have been,” I informed him. “So stop worrying about what I’m doing and start focusing on the people you should be worrying about.”
“For some reason, I don’t think you’re being honest with me.”
“What is it that you think I want, Randy?”
He shrugged, but the answer was clear in his eyes. “My money. My power.”
Laughing again would only prove him right. And he wasn’t right—not even close. “I have my own money and my own power.”
“No, son. What you have is a whole lot of investors who fund your buildings and a pretty, long-legged agent running around town shouting your name against every investor’s cock she sticks in her mouth.”
My hands balled into fists and I took a step forward. Will was immediately at my side, holding me back. There was no way I was going to let him talk about Frankie that way. But if I showed him Frankie was a weakness, she would become his focus, and I couldn’t let that happen either.
“That ain’t power,” he continued. “That ain’t shit, really. No one cares about green and natural elements and all that rubbish you like to flaunt. This is fucking Boston, not Vermont. People in this city want luxury, not recycled wood and energy efficient toilets that barely flush down the piss.” I stepped back and shoved my hands into my pockets. He had no idea what he was talking about, and it became more obvious with each word he spoke. “I thought you would have learned from your daddy’s mistakes.” His eyes ran over the ceiling, traced the walls. “But it looks like the only thing you’ve inherited is his stupidity.”
“Don’t ever speak his name again.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever say.”
His lip curled and his eyes narrowed. “You’re shit. And this…this Timber Towers…is nothing but shit.”
“Get the fuck out.”
Had it been up to him, he probably would have casually turned around and strolled through the door. But it was no longer up to him. I nodded, and the two guards who stood at his sides took him by the arms and, as he swore and spat at them, they dragged his feet across the floor until he was outside.
“Do you think he knows something?” Will asked.
I watched them pull Randy down the sidewalk and put him into a cab. “Doubt it. He’s nervous about the Hull deal, which he should be. He’s getting fucked, and the fact that he doesn’t know that makes him the stupid one.”
“Then why would he come here?”
“I think he’s starting to question his team and the people who are advising him, wondering if they’re steering him in the wrong direction. He knows Timber Towers is better than anything he’s ever gotten. He’s got to be curious why that is.”
“Tamra?”
I glanced at the door as the two guards walked back inside, and I thanked them as they made their way to the stairs. “I don’t think he’s on to her yet,” I told him, “and she’s not smart enough to play double agent.”
“We need a new lead.”
I nodded as I pulled out my phone. “You’re right.” And it had to be one who didn’t want my dick.
He turned and headed back toward the office. “I’m going to grab my bag and lock up. I’ll grab yours too.”
“Thanks, buddy,” I said, pulling up Hayden’s last text.
Me: Find something on him. NOW. I want him fucking buried.
Hayden: What’s got you so wound up?
Me: He came by Timber Towers.
Hayden: Oh shit. And?
Me: And he’s lucky I didn’t bury him under my foundation. I’ve had enough of his shit. We need something solid and we need it now.
Hayden: I know. I’m working on it.
I closed the text message window and saw the time on my home screen. Fuck. I was already late to meet Frankie. It would take me another few minutes to get to my Suburban and at least fifteen to drive there if I didn’t hit any traffic or red lights. I pressed her number and listened to the four rings before her voicemail picked up. Then I hung up and immediately called her right back.
“Here,” Will said, handing me my bag as I hung up. “Do you need anything else?”
“I need Frankie to answer my goddamn call.”
“Maybe she’s not getting your call. The reception isn’t great at The Hole.”
“Or she’s pissed that I’m late, and I didn’t call to tell her.”
“Want me to check the office lines to see if she left either of us a message?”
That would just waste more time. “I’m just going to take off.” I shoved my phone into the front pocket of my flannel and headed toward the garage. “If you hear from her, tell her I’m on my way,” I said over my shoulder.
“Got it.”
I pulled out of the garage, relieved that the traffic wasn’t thick through the Back Bay. I was able to take the side streets to avoid most of the lights and parked in a spot beside the restaurant. Frankie wasn’t inside. I knew that even before I’d headed to our usual booth. I couldn’t smell her, couldn’t feel her eyes on me. My dick hadn’t gone hard like it always did whenever she was near.
“She stayed about fifteen or so minutes and left, darlin’,” the waitress said from behind me. It was Betty, the same server we’d had the last time we were here…the night I’d finger-fucked her underneath the table.
“She didn’t happen to leave a message, did she?” A long shot, I knew, but I had to ask.
“I’d say the message on her face was loud and clear when she stormed out of here. She wasn’t happy about the no-show, if you get my drift.”
She hadn’t seen my missed calls, or there hadn’t been any because the service in here was shit. I’d let her down, and I was furious with myself for that. Now that she was pissed, I wondered if I should prepare myself for getting ignored… or worse.
“Thanks for the heads up, Betty.”
“Do yourself a favor, darlin’, and grab something nice and pretty for her. Girls like that. ‘Course, they like wine, too. That might be your best bet, now that I think about it.”
I laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
TEN.
FRANKIE
I THREW MY PURSE down on the couch, kicked off my heels somewhere around the coffee table. One of the bottles Derek had sent was sitting in the wine rack unopened. It was staring at me, taunting me. If I didn’t enjoy it so much, I would have thrown it out.
I poured myself a glass as I cursed him.
After twenty minutes of waiting with no phone call or text, I left the restaurant. He was the one who had asked for this dinner, the one who had set the time and place. The one who had confessed he wanted more from me, from us. And then, he didn’t show up. The reason was irrelevant. Maybe he could pull that with the women he’d screwed before me, but I wouldn’t tolerate it. I wasn’t just some bimbo he picked up one night at a bar. If I was going to take the next step with him—however far that step was—then he needed to respect me. I’d been in a relationship where I came last, my feelings pushed aside, my dignity barely intact. I wasn’t about to do that again.
I swallowed half my glass and refilled it.
What was happening to me? I’d gone a whole year without any drama, with many nights spent alone and a few horrible first dates, and I had been okay with that. Work was what was important, and Brea and Anna and my father. And just as I began to move to a deeper emotional place with the one person I shouldn’t be doing that with, I got stood up.
This wasn’t going to work.
I could hear my phone ringing from the living room. I ignored it. The three people who really mattered had their own ringtones, and what I heard wasn’t any of theirs. So I let it go to voicemail. If it was Derek, he could leave twenty voicemails—one for each of the minutes I had waited.
I wasn’t answering.
I was carrying the glass into my bedroom when the line by my front door began to ring. It was the one used by security and doormen. Someone was here to see me, and I could only assume that someone was Derek. But he wasn’t on my list, which meant they wouldn’t send him up without calling. And if I didn’t answer, he’d just wait and wait until he grew tired and left. Kind of like I’d done at The Hole.
There was no way I was answering that phone either.
I stripped off my jeans with my free hand and shuffled out of them until they were on the floor in the hallway. My panties dropped somewhere around the doorway of my bedroom. I set the glass on my nightstand, flung off my shirt and unclasped my bra. The shades were still open as I climbed under the covers. The soft glow from the adjacent buildings showed how empty my bed was.
I stretched my legs over the cool sheets. I loved how silky they felt against my skin, and how the wine ran through my veins and heated the center of my chest. My fingers slowly crawled down my breasts, past my navel and halted.
I needed this.
No—I wanted this.
And I was the one who decided I’d have it. Not Derek Block.
I spread my legs a bit wider and pressed the back of my head into the pillow as the pads of my fingers found the center of my folds. It wasn’t the motion I’d grown used to in the last several days, and the strength of Derek’s hand wasn’t present. I couldn’t smell his skin surrounding me. But none of that mattered. It was exactly what I needed, the caress of something familiar, a speed and pressure that would ultimately bring me to the same place.
Something I controlled on my own.
I kept my eyes closed and concentrated on the sensation. My breathing turned labored; my nipples became hardened peaks. His face was there, behind my lids…those electric blue eyes, that torturous beard that ravaged me. As much as I tried to push it away, to block it or think of something else—someone else, or no one at all—he always returned. I could almost feel his fingers on me, controlling the circles I was making around my clit. I could almost hear his dirty mouth telling me how good I felt, how wet and tight and warm I was.