by Jada Sioux
“What was that, missy?” the cabby asked, quirking a brow at her in the rearview mirror.
“Nothing! Sorry,” she uttered sheepishly, fixing her make-up in the small portable mirror as best as she could with the minimal supplies available to her.
She’d forgotten that she wasn’t alone – her capacity to process fully concentrated on trying to brainstorm a way to look presentable after a night of heavy drinking and fucking. Last thing she needed was a crabby cabby leaving her stranded lord knows where. She only had a tube of lip-gloss and mascara in her purse, but they would have to do.
A wet wipe cleaned off most of the blotchy make-up from the night before, and after she set her long luxurious hair in a tight bun, she looked almost presentable. If one was to ignore the shorter than sin dress, the fact that she was wearing no underwear and that her heels would have put most of the hookers in Lower East Side to shame.
Kiara rushed into the impressive office building that housed Divinad Enterprises. She held her breath as the elevator took her up to one of the higher floors and fumbled through her introduction with a secretary, trying to explain why a woman who looked like she currently did should be admitted into the offices of one of the most prominent luxury brands in the world. This was not a good time to have a hangover. Still, at the back of her mind, a little voice kept telling her that it had been worth it. What a man.
She plastered a smile on her lip that was a lot more confident than she actually was as the secretary ushered her into the meeting room, where Gwyneth was already waiting. Kiara hadn’t even had a moment to admire the lavish interior decorations of Divinad, one of her favorite brands ever. She quickly forgot all about being awestruck and focused on looking befittingly ashamed instead.
Kiara – looking like the most delectable trollop as she rolled into the room – visibly cringed as her prim and proper boss went ashen at the sight of her. Kiara sighed a small breath of relief as she had made it just barely in time, and none of the bigwigs they were supposed to present to were there yet. As soon as the door closed behind the secretary, Gwyneth was on her feet and wagging her finger in front of Kiara’s face.
“Oh my GOD! Where the hell were you! I’ve been calling and texting you all night! I thought you’d fallen off the Brooklyn Bridge or something.”
Then, she took a step back, and Kiara mustered the most apologetic of smiles as Gwyneth took a good long look at her. Kiara’s sparkly black party dress was perfect for charming the pants off of handsome white collar twerps at the bar, but it certainly wasn’t the kind of attire one wore to the biggest presentation of her life at Divinad, the premiere luxury and jewelry brand in the country!
“I hope you’re aware that you look like you’re going to a nightclub. Or more like you just got thrown out of one.”
“I’m sorry, Gwyneth! I had a bit too much to drink and… um… well, you know how it goes.”
Kiara slumped down on a chair, fighting the urge to rest her head on her hands and just take a real quick little nap. No one would notice, right?
“No, no I don’t know how it goes. Are you ready to give the presentation? Can you even think straight? And hell, what is that smell? Were you drinking tequila last night?”
“Tequila and everything else. Yes, I can give the presentation, as long as you have the slides. And I didn’t have time to go and change, I barely just made it to the meeting to begin with.”
Her thighs rubbing together, spreading the wetness that had gathered when she had had to make her less than courteous exit from Damien’s place was a cruel reminder of how much life loved playing tricks on her. For once she’d met a man who was handsome, smart, hot and not a creep (from the snippets of conversation she could recall), and instead of getting to enjoy that, she’d have to half-ass both her love life and her career in one fell swoop. Delightful.
“Here, wear this,” Gwyneth said, her tone dripping with annoyance as she slipped out of her expensive black blazer and handed it to Kiara.
She gave the garment a long evaluating look, but hearing footsteps in the corridor, snatched it and quickly slipped it on. There was no way it was going to button in the front – Gwyneth was a slim blonde and she a much curvier woman – but it would have to do. At least she could pretend that she was going for some kind of a street style instead of just looking like she was halfway through a walk of shame. Which wasn’t entirely untrue.
“They’re coming,” Gwyneth whispered, and Kiara conjured the bright, friendly smile back on her lips that she’d perfected over the years of working in advertising.
A certain level of self-control and the ability to bullshit herself through anything was a necessity with the job. And she was going to need every ounce of those skills after seeing who walked through the doors.
The collection of high-brand clothes and Italian leather shoes could have taken any burgeoning fashionista’s breath away, but Kiara was left gasping for air because of something else entirely. Those wicked blue eyes that she’d fallen into so readily last night were now staring at her from across the wide mahogany meeting room table, giving her a wink and threatening to make her knees buckle underneath her like so much rubble.
What the hell is he doing here!? Kiara thought desperately.
She fought to keep the rigid smile on her lips as she was introduced to the seemingly endless collection of company execs, mostly in their late thirties or early forties and all looking like a spread in a lifestyle magazine.
A gorgeous young brunette by the name of Eliza Whitcomb-Divinad made Kiara’s sensors buzz, warning her that the slim, model-looking woman was trouble, but other than that, Kiara only had enough mental capacity to focus on the giant mess she had got herself into.
The secretary who had shown Kiara in made the introduction she had been fearing the most.
“Kiara Lockett, may I present Damien Thatch, the CEO of Divinad Enterprises.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Kiara managed to croak before Damien’s warm palm engulfed her hand in his and flashes of their time spent together rushed through her mind, making her core throb with painful need.
The Damien Thatch? One of the most influential men in the country and by far the most notorious billionaire bachelor in the world? How had Kiara Lockett, a simple marketing specialist, managed to snag a night with the hottest man ever – according to People magazine – without even recognizing him? There was no way she was going to stop blushing for even a second during the presentation.
It was going to be impossible to focus with him in the room, his eyes on her and those lips curved in a delicious smile that asked to be kissed. Kiara trembled as Damien inclined his head a little, the picture of calm and control.
“Pleased to meet you, Kiara,” he said, his tone casual and as if nothing had happened between them.
As if she hadn’t let him do just about every unspeakable thing to her last night while screaming for more.
Damien commanded the room easily, and Kiara was thankful for it. In the shadow of the impressive man, her nervousness seemed to stand out less. Damien shook Gwyneth’s hand as well and then the six Divinad execs sunk into their respective seats, curious eyes on Kiara and Gwyneth. Kiara’s head pounded, she was exhausted, and her body was willing to jump at Damien in a second’s notice. But she couldn’t do that. Oh no. She was going to have to be professional. Damien smirked at her, and Kiara’s body responded with a shudder. It was going to be bloody unbearable.
“So, ladies. Tell us how you’re going to make Divinad an even bigger phenomenon than it already is.”
Kiara took a breath, and despite it all, was going to do her best to rattle off all the great plans they’d come up with for the company. Even if all she could really think about was a whole other big phenomenon.
After a few fumbling sentences, Kiara found her groove, and in a small while, she managed to forget all about Damien Thatch and his strong hands and insatiable appetite. Instead, she immersed herself in the world she knew so well and could talk ab
out endlessly – marketing and advertising. She’d been a big fan of Divinad and especially their gold jewelry for as long as she could remember, and landing the account would be a real dream come true.
It was only through tireless work and some clever schmoozing by the company Kiara worked for, Mirrorview Group, that they’d got a chance to pitch to Divinad in the first place. This was the account she’d always hoped to land – luxurious and exclusive, but simple in design and attractive without being gaudy. Just the kind of thing to provide a challenge that Kiara would be glad to tackle.
By the end of the presentation, Kiara was met by smiling, nodding faces, and a feeling of satisfaction erupted in her that couldn’t be wavered even by the presence of that damnable, delectable man at the head of the table.
“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Mirrorview Group can make your Cadence line of jewelry as classic as anything from Tiffany’s!” Kiara finished, receiving a warm round of applause as the last slide with projected earnings was replaced by a dark screen.
She’d been extremely thorough in her work, and neither Gwyneth nor anyone else could deny that she’d done an excellent job at preparing the presentation. It was a great relief that she’d managed to get through it without any major gaffes.
“Well, that was insightful, ladies. I didn’t know Divinad had to compete with the lesser sellers these days. But your input is valued, I assure you,” the striking brunette said, flashing her brilliant white teeth in a predatory grin that left Kiara cold and irritated.
Eliza’s smile was clearly faked, and the woman was obviously unimpressed by what Kiara had to offer. Still, Kiara nodded quietly and took her seat without letting her expression falter. No bitchy exec was going to rain on her parade that day, even if said parade was a little bit disheveled and worse for wear.
“We will be in touch soon. Thank you again for flying out from Los Angeles to meet us,” a stern looking man said, tossing a glance at Damien before standing up from the table and reaching a hand to Kiara and then Gwyneth.
Kiara shook it, and relief flooded her as one by one, the well-dressed execs of Divinad Enterprises made their exits, murmuring words of encouragement on their way out. Gwyneth grabbed her purse and went out with the executives, engaged in lively debate over some of the sales projections that they’d come up with, leaving Kiara alone with Damien for a moment.
The man walked to her, his movements casual and languid, reminding Kiara of a wild predator who circled his prey, already knowing that he had won. His scent filled her nostrils, and his closeness made her breath catch. She was rendered speechless in front of him. He brushed so close to her that Kiara’s heart threatened to stop as he slipped something in her palm, his lips almost grazing across her chin as he whispered into her ear.
“I think you forgot these, sugar.”
With that, he strolled out of the meeting room, his hands in his pockets like nothing had happened. Kiara looked down at her hand, dazed. In it, she held her crumpled up black thong. Kiara groaned, clamping her fist around the flimsy garment, a scarlet red blush burning hot on her cheeks.
That man was going to be the end of her if she had to stay close to him. No doubt about that.
CHAPTER THREE
Damien
Damien had to suppress a yawn. Spending long nights out on town didn’t pair well with early-morning board meetings, but it was nothing that a good hard coffee and a workout after the meeting couldn’t fix. He stirred sugar into his coffee – just half a spoon – and a smirk spread across his lips. That mocha-skinned goddess of a woman had kept creeping into his thoughts over and over again.
There was something about her that made his thoughts wander, even after weeks had passed since his one night with her. Her buttery smooth skin under his fingertips, her hot lips on his as he kissed her until they were both drunk with lust, that perfectly curvy body of hers that made him stand at attention at the slightest memory… He grinned to himself, half-heartedly following what one of his board members was saying.
He’d read through the materials of the meeting the night before, completely prepared for everything he needed to achieve the following day before ever setting foot out the door. Work hard and play hard – those two were mutually inclusive, not exclusive in Damien Thatch’s world. Still, he hadn’t been playing quite as hard as usual by his standards. Sure, he was still over all the gossip rags, and every step he took seemed to be scandalous, but it was like his heart wasn’t really in it. Peculiar, really.
“And that brings us to the question of which firm we will be choosing to lead the Cadence line’s marketing and advertising push. Eliza, you had some thoughts?” James Abbott, a senior member of the board, said, rousing Damien from his revelry.
He took a sip of his coffee as Eliza gathered some papers in front of her and composed her thoughts. She was a beautiful woman, there was no denying that. Sometimes, he missed her, but those times were rare and far between. They’d been engaged for a year half a lifetime ago, but that was all water under the bridge now.
It was a cruel twist of fate that they’d ended up working so close together after everything that had happened. Damien’s jaw clenched for a fraction of a moment before he willed himself to calm down. Bygones.
He leant back in his chair at the head of the table, guardedly curious as to what Eliza had to say. She was the only child of Montgomery Divinad, the creative genius who had built up Divinad Enterprises and a man greatly missed by the fashion community. While she hadn’t inherited his father’s artistic sensitivities, she had most certainly picked up his ruthless business tactics.
It made her invaluable, if a bit difficult to work with. It didn’t help that she hadn’t given up on the thought of becoming the hottest couple in business and the social scene one more time – something that he wasn’t anywhere near as thrilled about as she may have wanted him to be.
“Well, as you know, we interviewed five different agencies across the country for the position. Most of their pitches were what we expected – advertise for the high-class consumer, stress the unique design, have limited showings and buy prime magazine ad space. There were a few interesting ideas as well. Taylor L Jones Agency suggested that we nix the showings altogether and do a viral, secretive campaign where we drum up a lot of attention for the brand before revealing the jewelry.
Mirrorview Group suggested striving for the less affluent market. By making the pieces truly desirable for our lower income consumers, they could become highly sought after keepsake pieces, which would potentially open us up for a bigger market share without dropping current consumer loyalty. We went through the assessments and proposed costs of each pitch and landed on Sunstreak Advertising, who we have worked with previously with great success, and Mirrorview.”
Eliza paused, glancing around amongst the gathered talking heads to see if anyone had any questions so far.
“So we haven’t locked down our preferred candidate yet?” James Abbott asked, sipping on whiskey.
Damien had to hand it to the old dog – he had always scoffed at expectations and done what he pleased. Even if that meant 9 a.m. whiskey. Not a bad role model to strive for, though – Damien Thatch wasn’t exactly the man to bow to the whims of the press or social stigmas either.
“No. It really depends on which approach we want to go with. Classic and beautiful or go out on a limb and possibly fail horribly.” Eliza didn’t leave much in the way of having to guess which approach she preferred.
Damien pursed his lips thoughtfully. Mirrorview Group. That was the company where Kiara had worked. Just the thought of her made him harden and his heart beat just a bit faster. Instead of sleeping around and having a ball as he usually did whenever he went out, lately Damien had been rather subdued in his debauchery. Suddenly, other women hadn’t been able to excite him, and his thoughts kept going back to Kiara’s lush ass and soft touch. Hmm, he wouldn’t mind seeing her again, even if it was just for work.
“What if we give them both a
shot,” Damien said, receiving surprised glances from the board.
He rarely spoke up on marketing decisions. Damien Thatch was well known for his business savvy, but it prevailed itself more in branding and emerging market research, and he’d made a point of not butting in with some of the lesser decisions. But, Kiara was a good enough reason the change his ways.
“What do you mean by that?” Eliza asked, keeping her voice level with great difficulty. Damien had to stifle the smirk that wanted to hang on his lips. He liked flustering her every now and then. Frankly, she deserved it.
“I mean we contract both of them to provide us with thought-out booking plans, assets, timelines, etc. And then we decide which way is better. I think we can all agree that the Cadence line is important enough that no expense should be spared in finding the best approach, hmm?”
A line of nods. Good. Eliza had blanched, the surprise sucking the color out of her cheeks. Even better.
“I have some business in Los Angeles anyway. I wouldn’t mind overseeing the Mirrorview Group personally while I set up the L.A. office. Eliza can continue her work with Sunstreak. Anyone opposed?” Silence. Perfect.
***
The private jet set down in LAX the next day. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, and Damien wouldn’t have accepted anything less. He bypassed the regular hustle and bustle via private corridors reserved for the VIPs, and before too long, he was snug behind the steering wheel of his silver Mercedes Benz SLR, blazing down the highway.
Damien lived for moments like that – moments when he was in perfect control and nothing could tear it from him. He took a sharp right off the highway, and soon enough, he was trekking through the narrow roads around Topanga, enjoying the deafening roar of the engine as it took him further from the noise of the city.
When the last speck of immediate civilization shrunk from sight, he breathed easier. He loved clearing his mind – being alone with his thoughts and behind the wheel of something massively powerful. There was something terribly poetic about the combination of danger and pleasure that a good car could give a man. Sort of like a good woman, but not as thrilling.