by B. B. Hamel
I don’t do any snooping all day long. I just can’t bring myself to do it, especially after last night.
I didn’t exactly lie to him, but I wasn’t very graceful about avoiding his question. I could have been a little subtler, but I stumbled through it and only realized later that I was so totally obvious.
Griffin is a businessman. Even if he didn’t start out that way, he is now, and I bet he can read me like a book. I bet he saw through that really clumsy attempt at dodging his question and now just has more concerns about me.
I don’t want him to be concerned. I don’t want him to be worried. If I’m going to do this job for my family and hopefully get myself some approval and acceptance, I have to be smarter. I can’t let what may or may not be some burgeoning feelings for Griffin cloud my judgment.
Getting approval and status in my family is what I’ve always wanted. Even as a little girl, I just wanted my father to be proud of me and to be as important as my brother was. I realize that I’m maybe holding on to these issues for a little too long, but it finally feels like I have a chance to get what I’ve always wanted.
I went to school for Business and Hotel Management with the idea that I’d help my father out with one of his side businesses. I thought I could start there, manage a hotel, and prove that I’m worthy of him. I put a lot of time and effort into getting my degree and graduated with the top honors.
He didn’t come to my graduation ceremony. Not my undergraduate ceremony and not my MBA ceremony. And when I got home and finally confronted him about it, instead of letting me work in his hotel, he offered me this job instead.
And so I had a choice. I could either feel like I wasted all that time getting these degrees, or I could do as he asked me and hopefully after that he’d give me what I want. If this goes well, I’m hoping he gives me control of a hotel, or maybe more of them.
But as I play with Lacey, I can’t help but wonder. I don’t know if that’s actually going to happen.
Will my father ever actually accept me? And is this worth it?
I spend all day thinking about those questions, and I’m as torn as I was at the start by the time Lacey’s dinner rolls around. I feed her just as Griffin calls to let me know that he’ll be late again.
That’s fine by me. I like hanging around his place, and anyway, he’s actually paying me pretty well. I like having money that I actually earned myself.
I put Lacey to bed a couple hours later, and then I’m on my own. As I drift out of her room, I find myself in Griffin’s room.
I’ve been trying to avoid this, but I can’t help myself. I start by opening his drawers, one by one, and look inside of them.
There’s nothing interesting. Shirts, t-shirts, underwear, and socks. As I dig through the sock drawer, I feel something hard and metal. I wrap my fingers around it and realize with a start that I’m holding a gun.
I stare at the gun for a second before putting it back. I don’t know if it’s loaded, but I hope he’s not stupid enough to keep a loaded gun around with a little kid in the house.
Owning a gun isn’t a big deal. I move on to the closet. There’s nothing special, just shoes and more clothes. In the back of the closet is a box, an old-looking shoebox. I slide that out and open it up.
Inside are letters. Lots and lots of letters. I start to leaf through them and I quickly realize that they’re all from the same person, a woman named Vicky Marsh.
Just as I go to read one of the letters, I hear a noise. Panicking, I shove the letters back into the box and return the box to its place in the closet just as I hear the front door shut.
“Hello?” Griffin calls out.
I get up and run from his room. He comes into the kitchen just as I slip back down the hall.
He smiles at me. “How’s it going?” he asks.
“Lacey’s in bed, I was just putting her down.” I say it quickly, a little too quickly, and I’m a little out of breath from running.
He smiles and narrows his eyes. “That’s good,” he says. “She give you any trouble?”
“No, not at all,” I say, calming myself down.
“Good.” He puts his bang down. “Listen, I want to ask you something.”
“Sure,” I say, gathering my things. I need to get the heck out of there. “Anything.”
“Come out with me tomorrow night. I’ll hire a babysitter for Lacey.”
I pause, surprised. “Aren’t I the babysitter?”
He laughs. “I’ll hire another one. Come out with me. I’ll show you a good time, I promise.”
I bite my lip. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel rushed. “Okay,” I blurt out. “Sure.”
“Good. Heading out?”
I nod. “Gotta head home.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“No, that’s okay,” I say, quickly walking away. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time.”
“Okay,” he says. “See you.”
I head down the hall and out the front door, shutting it tight. My heart is beating so fast that I feel like I can’t breathe as I hurry away down the street.
He nearly caught me looking through his things, and then he asked me out. And stupid me, in my frazzled surprise, I actually said yes like a moron. I don’t know what I was thinking, actually agreeing to that. I should be staying far away from him.
And yet I’m excited. Really excited. I don’t know why, but I am.
As I head toward the car, I realize something: those letters were all from a woman. A woman named Vicky Marsh. I can’t be sure, but why would he be saving letters from this person? If he wanted to communicate with her, I’m sure he’d just be emailing with her or something.
Those letters are important. I need to read one, but I’m afraid. I’ve already crossed a line that I don’t know if I really want to cross again. And now I’m going out on a date with him.
I’m so freaking confused. I want Griffin, I really like Griffin, but my family is my family. I’ve been wanting their approval my entire life. I don’t know if I can throw away everything for Griffin. I know my father is a hard ass and my brother is an asshole, but all the same, they’re family.
I don’t know what to do. But as I get into the car and it starts to drive me home, I realize that I’m not going to tell my father about the letters. I’m going to keep this secret to myself for now. I want to feel out the situation some more before I tell him.
Maybe that’s the wrong choice, but I can’t help it. Some voice in the back of my head is telling me that saying Vicky Marsh’s name to my father is the wrong move.
And so I’ll wait, and go out on this date with Griffin tomorrow.
7
Griffin
I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me.
I keep doing this thing. It’s really bizarre. All day long, every time I think about Erin, which is a lot, I keep doing it. I’ve never done it before, never really felt this way before. But I just keep doing it like an idiot.
I keep smiling. I keep fucking grinning like a big dumb fool. I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me. By the end of the day, I’m seriously considering calling a doctor, and maybe I would if it weren’t for the fact that I have a date with Erin when I get home.
I can barely fucking contain myself, and it’s making me sick.
I never get this excited for a date. Hell, I barely even go on dates anymore. I haven’t really needed to take a woman out to get laid in a very long time, and I still don’t. I could call any number of women right now and have them come over and give me what I want right on the spot. There’s no doubt in my mind that there are literally hundreds of women I could have at a moment’s notice.
But none of them can give me what I really want, and that’s the problem. There’s only one woman that can possibly do it.
When I get home, the babysitter is already there. She’s an older woman who has watched Lacey for me in the past. Her name is Matilda, and although I like her, I wouldn’t want her around all the time.
She’s a little… strict, which is good for a night, but not so good for a fulltime nanny.
When I let her in, she instantly goes into babysitter mode. Erin gives me a little quizzical look and I just grin at her.
“You’re off the clock,” I say.
She walks over to me, smiling. “I guess so.”
“Ready?”
She shakes her head. “Actually, I was hoping I could get changed before we went.”
“Perfect,” I admit. “I could probably use some fresh clothes too.”
She gives me a playful look. “That’s definitely true.”
I laugh then point her down the hall. “You can use the spare room. It has a bathroom attached.”
“Don’t be trying to peek,” she says as she grabs a bag and heads toward the room.
I just grin and watch her walk away. When she disappears into the room, I quickly head into my bathroom and freshen up.
It takes me ten minutes to clean up and get a new suit on before I’m back in the kitchen, sipping a little whisky and waiting for her. It takes her another fifteen before she finally emerges from the back.
“How do I look?” she asks.
I gape for a second then grin. “Perfect,” I say.
She’s wearing a tight black dress, her hair spilling down around her shoulders. Her heels make her look a bit taller, although I still tower over her. She smiles as I walk over to her and offer her my arm. “Let’s go,” I say.
We tell Matilda that we’re leaving and then we head out.
I decide to drive, and so we get into my high-end Tesla. “Tasteful,” Erin comments as we pull out.
“I thought you’d like it. Very eco-friendly.”
“Who says I care about that?” she responds. “I actually prefer cars that are eco-unfriendly. Like eco-hostile,”
“Damn,” I say, grinning. “I should have taken the Hummer then.”
“I love Hummers,” she says. “You should drive it everywhere. Heck, just keep it running at all times.”
“I can do that for you.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “I’m kidding. I hate those cars.”
“Me too.” I grin at her and shrug. “I always figured the bigger the truck, the bigger the douche who’s driving it.”
“You shouldn’t generalize,” she says.
“Maybe not. But my generalizations tend to be correct.”
She laughs and leans back in the car as I head downtown. “Where are you taking me, anyway?”
“Well, we have two options. How hungry are you?”
She looks a little embarrassed. “Honestly, I ate with Lacey. Sometimes chicken fingers look too delicious to pass up.”
I laugh and grin at her. “You took food from my baby’s mouth?”
“I made more,” she says.
“Perfect. Option number two it is then.”
“What’s option number two?”
“Just one of my side businesses,” I say.
“Side business? How many do you have?”
“More than you think.” I glance at her. “How do you like dancing?”
She tries to conceal her smile, but I catch it. “I’ve been known to dance from time to time.”
“Good. Because I own a club.”
“You own a nightclub?”
I shrug. “I’m rich. I like to use my money to have fun sometimes.”
“Says the lame single dad.”
“I’m not so lame.” I grin at her, feeling that excitement all over again. “You’ll see.”
We drive through the night and I end up parking in my usual spot behind the club. I don’t bother taking her the front way, since there’s already a line forming.
“What’s this place called?” she asks.
“High,” I answer.
“Like, snorting cocaine kind of high?”
I grin and shrug. “That’s one interpretation.”
We approach the back door and I pull it open. The kitchen staff glances in my direction and I nod to the manager who rushes over to shake my hand. He escorts us through the back and the hustle and bustle of the staff doesn’t even pause or slow down. This place is used to me coming through, and they’re successful for a reason.
We head up into the main part of the club. We have to wait a second as they clear out the VIP box for us, but after that, we get or own little booth in the corner plus a bottle of champagne. I uncork it, pour two glasses, and we toast.
“To having fun,” I say.
“And to getting high.” She grins at me.
I laugh as I sip my drink and look around. The place is pretty crowded already, though it’s not exactly late. The dance floor is almost filled up with bodies dancing and sweating to the deep booming beat. I own a few places like High throughout the city, places that I want to go when I feel like cutting loose. It’s just a side benefit that they happen to be profitable as well.
“Well,” I say. “How about we dance?”
She stands up instantly, and I’m impressed by that. “I thought you’d never ask.”
She leads the way out to the dance floor, which surprises me. I thought she was a little shy and standoffish at first, but maybe that wasn’t right. Maybe she was just being proper in the house of her employer, but here she can cut loose a little bit.
And she looks so fucking good in that dress. I watch her sweet ass move as we head out onto the dance floor. I don’t care who notices me staring, I really don’t. I’m sure I’m not the only one. She’s so fucking sexy it drives me insane. I know this club is filled with beautiful women and most of them would probably give me what I want, but I can’t look at anyone but Erin right now.
We start to dance, blending in with the crowd, but they practically disappear for me. Sometimes I can be a little self-conscious at first, which is why I normally drink more, but any uncomfortable feelings are instantly gone as soon as I feel her hips up against mine.
She dances real fucking dirty. I’m almost a little taken aback at first. I thought she’d be a little prim and slow, but she instantly presses herself against me, and I can feel the heat between us. It’s like as soon as she hit the dance floor, all bets are off and she’s just throwing herself at me. She seems totally uninhibited and I absolutely love it.
I find it attractive. I mean, obviously I do, since I have a gorgeous girl grinding up against me. But her confidence is fucking sexy in itself. I thought maybe I’d have to coax this out of her, but she’s taking control and I fucking like it. Normally I’m the one in the lead, drawing the woman out, getting her to loosen up as she dances, but not with Erin. It’s like she was born for this, and she looks incredible.
I almost can’t keep up. Well, almost. I’m fucking good at what I do, even though she’s clearly great at dancing.
The song changes and she turns toward me, arms around my neck. I put my hands on her hips as she sways and grinds in front of me, making eye contact, not shy even a little bit. I run my hands along her curves and she touches my face, staring at me.
Instantly I’m fucking hard. I can’t help myself. I just keep picturing what this girl would feel like getting fucked. I bet she can work her hips on my cock and love it. I can just picture her face as I slide my thick cock deep between her legs for the first time, the pleasure and the pain and the surprise. I want to make her feel fucking good.
I want to kiss her. I suddenly need it. I didn’t really plan on it tonight. I figured tonight would just be a warmup, but she feels fucking warm already.
But before I can, the song changes, and she pulls away. “Come on,” she says, heading back toward the booth.
Reluctantly, I follow her. It’s a little quieter over in our seats, but I’d rather be out in the noise. I realize that we were dancing for nearly an hour and we’re both sweating. It passed in the blink of an eye. She pours both of us more champagne then she leans back in her seat, legs crossed toward me.
I put my hand on her knee. “That was fun,” I say.
“Yeah
, it was.” She smiles and doesn’t move my hand. “A little unexpected.”
“Unexpected how?”
“You don’t look like you can dance.”
I laugh at her. “Of course I can. What, you think I’m full of shit?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
That just makes me laugh. I toss back my drink and get another one.
“Well, I guess you were wrong,” I say.
“I guess so.” She watches me for a second. “So, why have you been staying so late at work recently?”
The topic change is a little abrupt, but I don’t mind. “Big merger,” I say. “Lots of work to do. It’s been tough.”
“Stressful?” she asks.
“You could say that.” I shrug. “This guy, Rick Fisher. He’s not the nicest guy in the world. I think we have a fair deal on the table but he’s pushing for more and more. I’m not sure it’ll happen.”
Her face clouds up for a moment. “You think it’s going to fall through?”
I shrug. “It could. I don’t really know.”
“And you think it’s this Rick guy’s fault?”
“He’s pushy. He wants more than we can give him.” I laugh a little bit. “Frankly, the guy’s an asshole. But this isn’t interesting.”
“No, I’m curious,” she says, biting her lip.
“He keeps making threats,” I say, feeling good about talking about this with someone not on the inside for once. I shouldn’t discuss the merger with Erin or really anyone outside of the company, but I can’t help myself. This whole thing has been like a weight around my neck for months. “Some subtle and some not so subtle.”
“Threats?” she asks. “Seriously?”
“Sure. Once, after a meeting, he leaned in during our handshake and told me that he was going to rip off my balls if I don’t give in to one of his demands.” I laugh, shrugging a little bit. “Like I said, the guy’s an asshole. But his company is sound.”