Twenty-Four
Sloan
Elizabeth is in my bedroom stretching her back, while I sit at my French inspired vanity desk, humming to a Bruno Mars tune.
"Look over my sketches while you stretch, Bitsy. You have to learn how to multitask now that you're going to be a mother. Let me know if there's anything you want to add to the design."
"You're humming," she says with laughter in her voice.
"So what?"
"You never hum."
"I like this song," I say defensively. Already aware of what she's implying. "A lot."
I continue to carefully apply my overpriced serum and cream to my face making sure not to miss any part of my face or neck. The scrapes on my face are healing nicely, and I swear it's partly due to the fact that my skin is absorbing a coat of silky seaweed magic.
I've been back in my apartment for a couple of days now. My hot water is working fine and my thermostat was replaced. With no excuse to come over and use his shower anymore, tonight I'm meeting Cutter at the tapas lounge per his request aka command for dinner. This is the third night in a row we've met to eat.
These are not dates.
I repeat these are not dates.
These are dick appointments.
We eat a good meal. We laugh a little bit. We exchange war stories. He tells me about how badly his brother and Roman are treating him in the business. I tell him how hard Regan is trying to shit on me at work or how much my little sister drives me crazy. And then we go to his apartment or mine (mostly his) and bang each other's brains out.
It's been incredible.
It's been educational.
It's been addictive.
Tonight I decide to go with an overpriced pair of high-waist, skinny jeans that fit my curves like a glove and make my legs appear even longer because I always like to play up my best asset. On top I wear a one-shouldered, blush colored blouse which cinches at the waist. And to top everything off, I accessorize with a pair of open-toed, black stilettos along with a pair of simple silver hoop earrings and a few Alex and Ani bangles on my wrist. My overpriced outfit is simple but classy. Figure flattering but not over the top.
"These sketches look great, Sloan. You did a lot more to them since we met at Java. Honestly, I forgot that you could draw like this. You're a great artist."
"Thanks, prego. You want me to give you a quick massage. You look like you're struggling over there."
"No, finish up what you're doing. You're putting a lot of effort in to your appearance tonight." She smiles. "Must be important."
"I'm just happy that my scars are fading and my eye is only a little pink. I feel human again."
"I don't think that's the only thing making you feel human again."
"It's not what you think."
"If you're meeting Cutter again tonight than it's exactly what I think. You're excited."
"Oh hush."
I've been growing out my pixie haircut and decide to wear my newly blunt cut hair down, sleek, and parted on the side so that some of it covers one of my eyes in a very old Hollywood glamour type way. I apply a neutral rose shadow to my eyes, cheeks, and lips but make sure to offset it with a bold swipe of black eyeliner across my top lids.
"This doesn't match," I say out loud while staring at myself in the full-length mirror on my closet door.
"What doesn't match?"
"My hair and my outfit."
"What are you talking about? You look great as usual."
"I'm going to change."
"I'm telling you, you look fine."
I stare at myself for another moment.
"No, it doesn't match."
I go back into the closet and pull out my favorite dress. It's a wine colored, bodycon dress that pulls me tight in all the right places. The dress has a long slit up the left thigh and shows off my legs in a way that my high-waist jeans never could.
"That's your "fuck 'em girl" dress."
"Mind your business."
"He's going to love it."
"It's not for him, Bitsy."
Lies. Lies. Lies.
Once I'm satisfied with what I see in the mirror, I open my laptop and login to my work dashboard. I want to take a quick look at my sales figures. Thanks to Clark's order and orders from two other new clients that my team worked hard to woo, my numbers are up, and that puts a smile on my face.
"My numbers are up."
"Excellent. Do you think you'll beat Regan's team?"
"It's possible but unfortunately this month's win may be at the expense of losing my best client. I've called Clark several times since our date to apologize for how our evening ended, but he's been "too busy" to take any of my calls and hasn't returned a one."
"Maybe it's that Paige woman not delivering your messages. If she has a thing for the man, I wouldn't put it past her to try something like that."
"I don't know. She's never done that before. She may be a bitch, but she's professional. Plus I have his personal cell number now. He hasn't returned those calls either. I'm not sure how I'm going to book a sales appointment with a doctor who refuses to talk with me. I think that I have to accept the fact that I may have lost his business because of one bad date."
"That's what you're calling it? A bad date?"
"What would you call it?"
"Cutter practically peed all over the man that night, and I'm sure the hardest part of that for the good doctor to swallow is that you let him."
I'm early but the tapas lounge is already packed. I've eaten here several times before but never on a Saturday. The hostess is adding a couple to the waitlist, so I look around to see if Cutter's arrived yet while I wait my turn.
"Do you have a reservation, miss?"
"Well, I'm not sure. I'm meeting one of the owners here. Mr. King."
The hostess's eyes enlarge.
"Which Mr. King?"
"Cutter King."
"Umm, he's not here," she stutters and practically chokes on her own tongue. "Let me check with my manager to see if he's on his way."
"Thanks."
A portly woman who's dressed in all black and has her hair shaved on one side and long on the other approaches me with the waitress lagging behind her.
"Hi, Ms. Pearson. I'm Joan, the manager here. Let me show you to your table. Mr. King will be here shortly."
She knows my name in advance. He gets cool points for that.
"Thank you."
I might be a little paranoid, but I swear that every employee in this place is watching me walk toward my booth. Maybe it's because I'm being escorted to it like I'm the Queen of England.
"Can I get you anything while you wait, Ms. Pearson?"
"I'll take a glass of your house Cabernet."
"Coming right up."
Soon there's a low hum in the room. That's how I know when he's arrived. I've seen this before. Everyone notices Cutter when he enters a room. He's hard to miss and difficult to turn away from.
As usual he looks amazing. His hair is freshly shorn but he's letting his beard grow out, and he's wearing a gray henley that hugs his every curve with a pair of worn in jeans.
When he spots me across the room, his face lights up, and in turn mine does the same. Before he can make it over to me, Joan stops him and whispers something in his ear. His face frowns for a moment but quickly changes back to a pleasant one the moment he slides in next to me in the booth.
"Princess."
"Landlord."
"I love this dress."
I smile inside thinking back to my conversation with Bitsy earlier. I totally lied to her. I did wear it for him. I'm glad that he likes it.
"Thank you."
"I can't wait to get you out of it."
I blush from the comment. Now that I know that he can back up every dirty thing he's ever said to me, I tend to blush more often.
"You know most people sit across from each other when they sit in a booth for dinner."
He wraps his arm around my shoulder bas
ically caging me in the booth, takes a sip of my wine, then offers me a sip as well. I drink.
"I haven't seen you in twenty-four hours. Won't be inside of you for a few more. I'm sitting next to you. Need to be near you."
God, his voice is deep and rougher than usual. Like sandpaper. As if he's had a rough night of drinking or something.
"Give me my kiss."
He leans over before I can say anything in response and kisses me softly with just a little bit of tongue. It's not as intense as some of our other "private" kisses, but it's tender and it still lights a fire inside of me.
"You smell like jasmine."
"It's my–"
Before I can finish my sentence he discreetly slides his hand inside of the slit of my dress. His mouth turning completely up once he realizes that I'm not wearing any underwear.
"You're going to be the death of me," he says gruffly.
"Am I?" I tease.
He gently rubs my clit as a punishment.
"You want me to make you come in this booth?"
"No," I whisper.
"You sure?" He continues stroking me as I grow slicker.
"Stop it," I say half-heartedly.
"I'm hungry tonight." He grins as he pulls his hand away. "I'm going to order all of my favorites. Anything in particular you want?"
"No," I say trying to calm myself down. "I'm good with whatever."
Cutter raises his arm, waves his pointer finger, and all of a sudden, a server arrives to our table with a menu and another glass of wine. Of course he winks at her. That seems to be his usual greeting to humans of the female persuasion.
"Thank you, darlin'."
"Do you want the usual, Cutter?"
"Actually I'm a little hungrier than normal. I want the chef special."
"Awesome."
"How's your brother doing?"
"Thanks for asking and for everything," she says thankfully. "He's doing a lot better. The doctors finally figured out what was wrong with him. It's an ulcer."
"At his age?"
"I know, right? But stress and stomach ailments run in the family."
"Well then I will, I mean Camden will, keep a close eye on you. Make sure you're not over scheduled. You need your rest."
A look passes over the waitress's face that is a mixture of worry and adoration.
"Everything is fine as is. Please don't go changing anything around for my benefit."
"As long as your happy."
"I am, thank you." She turns to me. "Did you decide on what you want to order, miss?"
"Just double my order, darlin'," he tells her.
"Gotcha."
After Cutter's biggest fan leaves to place our order we continue our conversation.
"I'm curious. Do you even know her name?"
"What makes you think that I don't?"
"You called her darlin' about a hundred different times. Thought maybe you forgot her name."
"Her name is Hazel August. She's been a waitress here for a little over a year. Her brother has been in and out of the hospital over the last six months, and the doctors weren't sure what was wrong with him, because he didn't have health insurance and the hospital would only do a limited series of tests. Once she hit her year anniversary of working here, I made sure to get her a family insurance plan which allowed her to add her brother."
I'm stunned.
"That was really . . . nice of you."
"Nice, maybe. Smart, yes. It's not good business to have a lot of employee turnover, and a decent benefits package is the key to keeping people around these days. Hazel's a good worker."
"Sounds expensive."
"Worth every penny."
There's a lull in our conversation, which I'm learning is something that tends to happen between us, because Cutter likes to watch me. Honestly, I think he likes to watch all women. He's a very visual person, and he seems to be quite taken with the woman's form. He has the ability to make any woman feel like she's the most beautiful woman in the room. Almost. I know better though.
"You seem really good at what you do. The club. This restaurant. I know you told me you were having a difference of opinion with your brother and Roman, but it seems like you miss it and they miss you."
"I definitely miss it. The club, the restaurant, and even our building are not just investments for me. They are businesses that I care about. If I'm going to be a part of it, I want to see it grow. Flourish."
"Is that why we came here for dinner? So you could check on things."
"You caught me."
"Is that what Joan was talking about with you when you came in?"
"Yeah, the staff seems to be having a few personality clashes with Camden. He's not the easiest guy to work for. He spends most of his time on a computer not with people."
"So you're not going to come back to work?"
"My brother and Roman take for granted that I will run the club and the restaurant when all they're concerned about are the pain in the ass fixes that they keep booking. So no, I'm not coming back."
"Sounds like you don't really like the fixes anymore."
"I'm good at them though."
"You're probably good at a lot of things. That doesn't mean that you're supposed to do them all."
"I don't know if I would feel comfortable with my brother going into a fix without me having his back. My dad died when we were eleven. My mom died when we were in high school. We practically raised each other."
"But isn't that what he did to you? I thought you said he left you hanging with a client."
"Not exactly," he snaps.
I may have hit a really sore spot.
"We can change the subject," I say.
"I didn't say we had to change the subject. I just . . . I don't know. I know he didn't mean to leave me swinging like that. It's just that he was distracted."
"With?"
"His lady."
"Oh, Jade. I've met her."
He looks like he doesn't want to talk about this anymore.
"Hey, what do I know," I say trying to calm the waters. "I don't know what to do about my seventeen-year-old sister."
Hazel brings out several different appetizers for us to nosh on. The chicken skewers, stuffed shrimp, and Kobe cheesesteak egg rolls look particularly amazing.
"Your situation is much more complicated than mine," I continue.
Cutter turns to me and slides an egg roll in my mouth with his fingers.
"Bite."
It's delicious.
"They're good, right?" he asks excitedly. "I hired a new chef a couple of months ago."
"Too good."
"Nothing is ever too good," he says with an intensity which I'm finding makes me hot. "You either love it or you don't. I just happen to love it."
Don't let him inside your heart, Sloan. You know better. This isn't real. This is a dick appointment.
"Do you think you'll ever move back into your house?" I ask trying to change the flow and direction of the conversation.
"No."
"No?"
"It was time for me to go. I just needed a reason to do it. Cam and Jade should have a place for themselves."
"Oh, I thought–"
I stop myself before I say something stupid.
"You thought what?"
"Never mind."
"You thought what?"
"I just . . . I heard that you and your brother share women sometimes."
"Where did you hear that?"
"Just around."
I play around with some of the food on my plate. I had no intentions of ever bringing his reputation up with him because this is not a relationship, but it's been in the back of my mind for a little while. Sitting there. Like a little sleeping bear waiting to be poked.
"Look at me, Sloan." His face serious. "I've done a lot of things in the past with and without my brother that have nothing to do with what we're doing now. The only woman I'm interested in is sitting right at this table."
"Oh, wel
l, I wasn't sure. It's not like we discussed how whatever this is, is going to work."
"I think this is working just fine, and even though we're not a couple, I hope you understand that at least for me what we're doing is exclusive. I'm not sleeping with anyone else and I hope that you aren't either, or that guy is going to have a lot of trouble eating without his teeth."
I laugh.
"You're nuts."
"There it is," he says.
"There what is?"
"The light in your eyes. It's back. Just like I remembered."
My cell phone rings just as my heart flutters.
Dammit, it's Fern.
"Excuse me for a minute," I say to Cutter. "Hello?"
"Sloan."
"Yes, Fern."
"I'm sending my final list for the training and you're not on it."
I hold my ear down, so I can hear, and try to speak clearly but quietly in the phone. "I meant to come see you the other day."
"But you didn't, and I'm not handing in my stuff late because you're procrastinating."
"So what do you want me to do? It's after work hours."
"Do whatever you want to do, but give me a yes or no. If you want to go, you need to fill out the application and the waiver and email it to me by tonight. If not, just say so."
Cutter is staring down my throat, trying to listen to my conversation, probably because I look so distressed.
He mouths the words, "What's wrong?"
I shake my head and tell him to give me a second.
"It's a yes," I tell Fern. "I'll fill it out and send it to you tonight."
"Before eleven please."
"Absolutely. Thanks, Fern."
I hang up the phone and take a sip of wine.
"Who was that?"
"My supervisor."
"What did she want? You don't look happy about it."
"There's a sales training course that all the managers take. Three-month course. Lots of my Saturdays. A lot of seminars and webinars."
"Why did you agree to it."
"All the managers take it."
"But?"
"But . . . I just don't know if I'm in love with my job anymore."
"I can understand that. Will they offer the training again?"
"It's only once a year."
"So, see how you feel next year about it. Don't commit today because that Fern person put you under a little pressure."
The King Brothers Boxed Set Page 36