First Taste (The Lust List: Devon Stone #1)

by Mira Bailee

  Getting through the gates yesterday was a mild obstacle. Today, I see it’s going to be a spectacle. A line of cars are parked on the side of the road, and a half-dozen people—loaded with cameras and microphones—are harassing the security guard. Since these people are blocking my way, I tap my horn to get them to step aside. Big mistake.

  They move, sure. And I’m able to approach the closed gate. But they swarm to my window, blinding me with camera flashes. I throw my hands over my face like I’m escaping a bad dream. Panic fills me from inside, and I feel lightheaded like I’m experiencing déjà vu. What do they want with me?

  I can’t control my own trembling as someone taps persistently on my window. I peek out expecting to be ambushed by flashes. Instead, the guard has pushed his way through to speak to me. He looks annoyed until brief recognition crosses his face. “The girl from yesterday?”

  “Olivia Margot.” My voice wavers. “I work here now—for Greg Keenly.”

  I’m trying to regain my composure as he nods, seeming much friendlier and less intimidating today. “Alright, let me call up front. Then I’ll need to get all these vultures back so you can get through without them making a break for it.”

  If this is what it’s like to be a rich and famous Hollywood celebrity, I’m definitely not interested.

  The guard appears again. “As soon as I get them all across the street, I’ll buzz you in. Be quick.”

  “Why are they here?”

  “This time?” he says, scratching the side of his nose. “Could be the party. People are hearing about it. Could be the boys in the tabloids. They tend to bring attention to themselves.”

  The Lust List. I nod my head in agreement as though I know as much as the next celebrity gossip queen about the Stone brothers. “Well, I’m ready when you are,” I say.

  He reaches a thick, dark hand into the car to shake mine. “The name’s Roger, by the way. Welcome to the Stone Circus.”

  As promised, Roger gets everyone back far enough that when he opens the gate for me, they won’t have enough time to race through as well. It would be comical in theory, but the fact this is really happening… Don’t these people have better things to do?

  I speed through the gate and notice I feel more confident as I near the house. It could be the adrenaline from getting to pass all those camera people, gaining access to the residence with no trouble. That’s right, you jerks. I’m important too. Or maybe it’s because I know Devon could be inside. But I’m feeling good, as if, for this moment, I belong here. Today, I will revel in the luxury of this massive estate. I could never handle the lifestyle, but for this short stint as the Stone’s event planner, I’ll at least try to take advantage of the perks that come with extreme wealth.

  * * *

  I’m standing on the front steps, knocking on the door, when I hear another car driving up. A vintage muscle car comes around the corner—midnight blue with white racing stripes. My best guess, it’s a Camaro from the 60s, but its condition is flawless. It rumbles to a stop by the fountain, and where most would say the car itself was pretty sexy, it’s nothing compared to how hot Devon looks getting out of it.

  Yesterday, he was professional: suit and tie and all Gucci model-like. Today, he’s wearing a t-shirt that’s thin and tight enough to clarify the photo I saw on ScandalLust wasn’t digitally altered. His jeans are torn—and not, like, pre-torn for fashion’s sake. They’re worn out and older, like they’re that favorite pair you can’t just let go of after years of abuse. This laid-back look is even more effective than yesterday. Yesterday, he was an inaccessible daydream. Today, he’s an irresistible boy next door. He disappears around a corner, and I extend my neck trying to see where he went. I have the urge to follow him. This isn’t good. I have work to do.

  My jaw’s still hanging as I’m abruptly pulled back into reality.

  “Excuse me, Miss Margot.” An impatient, sharp tone comes from Mr. Keenly who’s standing in the doorway with a constipated scowl on his face.

  “Sorry. Hi,” I say, handing him my paperwork. “I’ve got this all filled out for you, and I—”

  “Here.” He thrusts a torn sheet of paper at me. “This is what you’re doing today. You don’t need to be here.”

  “Oh. All right. Thank—” He shuts the door.

  Dammit. Right as Devon gets here, I have to leave.

  I do an about-face on the steps, and read the paper Keenly gave me.

  Opulent Couture on San Vicente (pick up)

  Eco Clean Dry Cleaner on Melrose (drop off)

  Drop off what?

  Just as I think it, the front door opens again to reveal Keenly holding a massive pile of silky, cream-colored fabric. I barely have time to reach out before he dumps everything into my arms. They’re heavy as hell, but at least I have my answer.

  I trudge back to my car, unlock the back door, and dump the contents of my arms onto the backseat. So the guy gives me two vague locations with even vaguer instructions. I guess he hasn’t gotten over yesterday’s incident.

  Thankfully, my phone can save the day, and I pull it out to search for the directions to these places. As I’m typing in my first location, a door opens at the side of the house, and there’s Devon again.

  I can’t possibly be this lucky. Keep calm and make casual conversation. You can do this.

  I lean back against my car, almost falling straight into the backseat. Shifting over, I make sure I look as carefree as he does.

  “Hey,” I say, but it’s too meek. I speak up. “Hi. Devon.”

  He’s walking along the side of the house and stops at a window. “Hey,” he mumbles, but doesn’t turn to see who’s speaking. I’m sure he knows it’s me.

  “So Keenly’s got me running errands today. Thanks again for helping me out.”

  He turns his head long enough to give me a quick once over, and then turns back. There was no expression on his face, like he didn’t even recognize me.

  He’s peering through half open curtains into the office where I had my interview. What’s he looking for? And why is he doing it from out here?

  Startled by something, he backs up quickly and stands against the wall out of sight. This is weird, but he’s watching me now. He gives me a half-grin and says, “Did Keenly task you with babysitting the driveway?”

  I’m feeling smaller by the second. What did I do wrong? What should I say to him? This is definitely not the type of situation where I can just talk about the weather. I’ve got to sound like I know more about him and his lifestyle. I totally get you, Devon. Except I don’t—at all. I could make a joke about the Number Three thing…

  I’m laughing before I start talking which makes me look like a fool. “So I saw—” No. I can’t bring that up! I’d sound like an idiot fan girl. I stand up straight, tempted to just get in my car and leave before anything stupid can come out of my mouth.

  But I can’t screw this all up now. Taking a breath, I try not to babble. “So it’s got to be weird dealing with those camera people all the time.” No, I shouldn’t have said that. They may have left before he drove up. What if they did? Then I’m making no sense and sound all sorts of crazy.

  “Those assholes? They’re bloodsucking parasites chasing after their next headline to twist into lies and smut. And those who read it are only feeding them. Like a bunch of ticks growing fatter by feeding off the souls of those trying to live their lives in peace. You don’t read that shit do you?”

  Not before last night, but now that I know you’re all over it… “No. Of course not.” I add in a disgusted look to show him I’m serious. I’m so glad I didn’t bring up the Lust List thing, and I mentally remind myself to never do so. Ever. “I mean, I don’t read any of that. I didn’t even know who you were before this job.”

  “Right.” He turns back to check the window, and his shoulders seem to relax.

  “I’m sorry. What are you doing?” I ask.

  “None of your business. And don’t go talking to the paps about anything
either. You’ll only regret it.” He starts back toward the side door in a rush.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t. I mean. I signed a confidentiality agreement, but even if I hadn’t…” Too late. He’s inside. Once again, he didn’t say goodbye. But worse, I’m not sure he even remembers my name.

  Shake it off. I’ve been rejected by guys before. This is no different. I should be proud that I was able to get words out of my mouth. Typical Olivia would’ve found a way to run off and avoid the entire interaction.

  But dammit, he’s hot. What’s his problem? Snooping around his father’s house like a burglar. Only giving me the time of day when it’s convenient. My head is screaming at me to stay away and not bother. But the rest of my body is intrigued. I want to know him. I want to be closer to him. And those seconds where he pays attention to me—and that grin—it’s enough to reinforce all my bad ideas.

  Back on my phone, I find the physical addresses I need and get away from the Stone mansion as fast as possible. I’m no longer nervous about running Keenly’s errands. They’ll give me a chance to regroup before I have to come back.

  * * *

  Five hours, one stop for gas, six wrong turns, and several confused looks later, I’m back at the Stone’s. The linens are at the dry cleaners, and I have a box of fancy, handwritten menus and place cards in my backseat. I get out and balance the box on my hip as I walk back to the front door. Today was not the day for heels. I was feeling bold this morning. Now I’m just trying not to limp.

  I skip knocking this time, but before I go in, I take a quick scan of the driveway. Devon’s car is gone. I guess I feel relieved. At least, I should.

  Inside, I take in the quiet, vast space and start down the hallway leading to the back of the house. I assume I’ll run into my wonderful boss at some point. He’ll probably yell at me for taking so long.

  I find a large ballroom that looks like it came out of an animated princess movie. Tables are being set up throughout. Chairs are being polished. A group of people dressed in black and white are surrounding a table of food in the center. A woman in a dark blue pencil skirt and floral blouse has her mouth filled with food as she explains the names of different dishes and what’s in them.

  All these people bustling about and not a Keenly in sight.

  The woman catches me staring and excuses herself from the catering staff. She’s wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin as she rushes to me. “That goat cheese is delicious. Want to try some of the menu? We’ve got canapés, flambés, gazpacho…”

  “No thank you. I was just running some errands for Mr. Keenly.” I lift the box in my arms a little higher to prove it.

  She takes it from me, placing it on a nearby bar. “Great. Thank you.” She extends her arm out. “I’m Celia Owens, by the way. Mr. Keenly’s assistant.”

  Say what?

  I laugh. “Um…Olivia Margot.” I return her handshake. “Also Keenly’s assistant?”

  Celia drops her arm. “Forgive me. That doesn’t make much sense. I used to work for him. He called me last night saying it was an emergency and—”

  “That I needed a competent assistant.” Keenly walks into the ballroom taking short, hurried steps. He reminds me of a rodent, both in appearance and behavior.

  I cross my arms in front of me wishing I could vanish. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but it’s clearly not going to look good for me.

  Keenly joins us, holding his head high. “I had no choice but to hire you, Miss Margot. But I still needed a capable assistant, so I got Celia to come back and take care of things.”

  Come back? I can only imagine the reasons she would have left in the first place.

  Celia plasters on a winning smile. “It’s my pleasure to be helping the nation’s best event planner.”

  “I knew you’d come around,” Keenly says, rubbing Celia’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, I can’t just fire this one, but it’s on the Stone’s bill so I don’t care what she does.” He glares in my direction. “You can use her if you need any help.” He lets out a boisterous guffaw as he says, “You’ll be the assistant to the assistant. How will that look on your resumé?”

  He scurries off before I can think of anything to say. I stare into the space he’d been occupying. What was I supposed to do now?

  “Don’t worry about him. He’s an asshole.”

  I should learn that act she just put on for him. I’m not a fan of sucking up, but I also don’t do well having enemies. Maybe because the only enemy I’ve ever had was myself.

  Celia takes my arm and starts walking the perimeter of the room. “So, things I’ve learned over the years. Greg doesn’t actually do all that much work. Most of this stuff, you schedule it, and it runs on autopilot. So what he delegates to me isn’t all that much either. I basically get paid to do next to nothing. Which means for you, this is by far the best money you’ll make for the least effort.”

  Great, so the easiest job also happens to be the most humiliating. “I’m not a fan of being useless.”

  “You won’t be. Keenly, myself, and now you, we’re just the eyes of the mission. And the mission is to make rich people feel even more important. So you supervise those who are working. Make sure they’re doing what they’re supposed to with a smile on their face.”

  We walk past men carrying white couches to the center of the room. By the big windows overlooking the coast, another group is piecing together a small wooden dance floor. On the other side of the room, a bar is being cleaned up and stocked with spotless glasses and liquor bottles. No one seems to be giving orders. Maybe Celia is right.

  “There are other perks to this as well.” She stops at a table and rummages through a small blue handbag. She brings out a wallet and plucks a card from it, handing it to me. “Business account. Now, you can’t use it to buy a new car, but if it’s related to work, it’s covered by Platinum. So filling up your gas tank. Getting anything you need for Saturday. Hell, even after work drinks. Charge it, and consider it your bonus.”

  “You’re serious? But then why did you stop working for them?”

  “Isn’t Keenly reason enough? There are only so many years one can handle working with that arrogant prick, but don’t tell him I said so. He thinks I’m wasting my life, throwing it all away to start a family.”

  “He’s a charmer.” I like Celia. If she were running things, I’d feel more at ease with this job.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find a replacement bartender before Keenly realizes the old one quit.”

  She walks away before my brain catches up. Maddie. I spin around to chase after her. I have the perfect back up plan. She’s fantastic and the guests will love her.

  This is my opening to get Maddie into the party. After all she’s done for me, this would be one way to pay her back.

  Of course, in my sudden excitement, I forget my sub-par coordination in heels, shift my weight awkwardly onto one foot, twist my ankle, and tumble to the floor.

  “Oh, honey! You okay?” Celia asks, rushing back.

  That’s one way to get her attention. Focus, girl. Tell her about your wonderful best friend who’d be perfect for the job.

  “P-professional. Dedicated.” Celia helps me up as I stutter nonsense.

  She laughs. “Say that again.”

  I take a breath and pull my phone out, finding a photo of Maddie and hold it out for her.

  Celia raises an eyebrow, waiting. A few chuckles from the catering table inform me I just had an audience.

  I take a breath and force myself to create coherent sentences. I tell Celia about Maddie, sounding like I’m helping her campaign for presidency. But Celia nods, listening. She’s way cooler than Keenly.

  I expect her to ask more questions about her experience, but instead she says, “She’s more graceful than you, correct?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then bring her by on Thursday.”

  A goofy grin spreads across my face. I can’t wait to tell her. I want to celebra
te my mini-success. I just stepped up and got something done. Only a slight throb coming from my ankle reminds me how sloppy I was, but whatever. Celia’s now my direct supervisor. I have a company credit card in my possession. And I just hooked my friend up with an unforgettable job. I’m on top of the damn world.

  It’s quiet at Brecken’s Sports Pub. A couple sits quietly in a small booth staring at separate TV screens, seemingly unaware that they’re here together. Two men sit on stools at the other end of the bar, and Maddie checks on them intermittently, returning to our conversation without missing a beat.

  “So when’s your first date?”

  “Are you crazy? I barely got in two words with him. He was acting all weird, looking for something. Or someone…”

  “You, maybe?” She leans in closer to me.

  “I was standing right there, and it was like I was invisible.” I fumble with my phone, checking the time every couple minutes. I should get home and try to unwind before tomorrow. These unpredictable days are going to get to me fast.

  “So next time you’re with him, pry a little further. You know he’s got some sexy skeletons in his closet.”

  I believe his words to me were ‘mind your own business’. I shake my head. “Not gonna happen.”

  The front door opens, and two more men walk through wearing suits, probably coming straight from work. Maddie flashes a bright smile at them, and both men seem to light up. This girl can accomplish more without a word, which reminds me I haven’t told her she got a job.

  She continues with her Devon spiel. “You know, you could find out some juicy information and then sell it to the tabloids. ScandalLust would flat out hire you, I bet.”

  “So which is it: date him or screw him over? I think he’d put a hit out for me if I got near the paparazzi.”

  Maddie had been on her way to her new customers, but she freezes mid-step. “Hold that thought.” She grins, gets the guys’ drink orders and returns. “A man unafraid to kill… That’s a little sexy.“