I opened the door to the balcony and inhaled the summer air. Each moment in the sunlight invigorated me. I’d lived behind smoke and mirrors my whole life. I could handle one more year.
As I stared out at the park, I remembered the envelope Isaac gave me. Walking to the bar, the one where I made Nox a drink, I poured myself a glass of moscato—after all, by Montague Manor standards, it was still white-wine time—and sat carefully on one of the sofas as the warm air from the open door blew gently through the suite.
Retrieving my purse, I found my phone and the envelope. I checked the time; it was nearly four-thirty. On the outside of the envelope was the room number. Tentatively, I ripped the seam and pulled the pages free. The first page was a handwritten letter. Though I’d only seen Nox’s handwriting on the note he left for me the first morning I awoke in his bed, I knew this note was penned by him.
My steeled heart ached to flutter. Who handwrote notes anymore?
And then I saw the second page. It was a photo—of me. By the outfit, I knew it was one of the shots taken yesterday at Infidelity, one that Karen said was for my profile. It wasn’t on photo paper. As a matter of fact, the page was creased throughout, as if it had been wadded and then straightened.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I began to read his words.
Charli, or should I say Miss Alexandria Collins?
I imagined our reunion and waited for my phone to ring. Never in my wildest imagination did I envision this (see picture). For the record, prostitution doesn’t become you… too much makeup can’t cover the beautiful princess in my memory…
The paper blurred in my trembling hand.
…Del Mar was a dream. Reality is here.
If it’s a whore you want to be, then I’m your man. I told you my tastes were unique. We’ve only scratched the surface. Miss Collins, you’re mine—body and soul—for the next twelve months. In Del Mar you gave me two nights; now I’ve purchased 365 more. They’re mine and only mine.
Your ability to question or dispute me in any way was relinquished the moment you signed that agreement.
Alexandria Collins, I’m a businessman. I don’t make bad investments. I will get what I paid for.
The butterflies I’d imagined at his handwritten note evaporated, washed away by a deluge of bile and contempt. How dare he address me in this manner? He doesn’t know with what I was faced. He doesn’t know me. Besides he’s obviously an Infidelity client. That negates his ability to act superior.
Fuck him!
I forced myself to continue reading.
I look forward to tonight—not to fucking a princess who enjoyed being treated like a slut but to fucking a slut who for a week pretended to be a princess.
You have more instructions in the bedroom.
Do not disobey me.
~Mr. Demetri
I took a ragged breath, swallowed the contents of my wine glass, and stood. The shakiness of my knees wasn’t brought on by sadness, though I admitted it was there along with hurt. No, the trembling was rage. I balled the letter and the picture, smashing it into submission.
After pouring another glass of wine, I made my way to the bedroom with a tug of my suitcase. It was still in the living room where the bellman had left it. Focusing on the bed, I barely noticed the luxury of the room. Upon the bed was a black dress. Reading the label, I recognized that it was a very nice black dress. Next to the dress were a pearl choker necklace, a shoebox, and another note.
I ran my fingers over the pearls. The necklace was stunning, but in an odd way reminded me of a collar. Surely, that wasn’t his intention, was it?
I lifted the page in disgust.
You have a five o’clock appointment in the hotel’s spa. Don’t be late. They have instructions on what to do. Don’t change them.
Later tonight you will go to Mobar, the bar here in the Mandarin. Be there by eight. Wear what is on the bed and only what is on the bed. Order a lemon drop martini. Do not drink. Nurse it, play with it, run your fingers around the rim of the glass. Other than the bartender, don’t speak to anyone. As your finger slides circles over the smooth rim, imagine my fingers circling your tits, teasing your clit, and plunging deep in your pussy. I want you wet and ready for me.
I’ve never picked up a prostitute at a bar. I will tonight. (You see? My investment is already paying off. I have many more fantasies, and I’ve paid well to have them all come true.)
In this outfit, no one else will know what you truly are. They’ll see the princess. Reality will be our secret.
In the handbag is cash. Use it to pay for your drink and keep the rest. That’s what you wanted—to be paid. I’ll pay, and you will obey.
It wasn’t signed.
Dick!
I ground my teeth together as I stared at the sexy dress. He was right. No one would know. Well, the hell with him. I wasn’t that easily intimidated. He had a fantasy about picking up a prostitute? Fine, I’d role-play. But Mr. Nox Demetri was going to learn that despite his earlier show of force, I did have hard limits. I’d play his games but on my terms.
I picked up the phone and hit the button for the front desk.
“Hello, Miss Charli.”
That must have been the name Nox gave when he registered. “Hello, can you please connect me to the spa. I need to cancel my appointment.”
I COULDN’T CONCENTRATE. Shit, I could barely function. Thoughts of Charli consumed my mind—her gorgeous eyes, the way she looked at me when I came out of that room and our gaze met. I hadn’t planned on going to the Mandarin yet or being there when she arrived. I had things to do, but I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t not see her. The attraction was too strong.
That was what she did to me. She made me lose focus on the world and see only her.
In only the short time we’d been together, she’d gotten under my skin like no one else, even Jo. I’d never fallen so fast or so hard. I didn’t do drugs, never had. Nevertheless, I imagined that Charli was like cocaine. One casual hit at a party—that was all I was after in Del Mar. One hit, one week. Since returning to New York, I’d tried to deny my addiction. Each day we were apart was another day clean, another day sober. I was able to detox because she was out of my life.
That was then.
This is now, and now she’s mine.
Deloris said her name was Alexandria, or Alex, but that didn’t change anything. We’d confessed that our names were nicknames, and to me she’d always be my Charli. I just wasn’t ready to let her know that, not yet. For the time being, we’d stick with formality. From the moment Deloris showed me that envelope with her picture and told me that Charli had a profile, I’d been consumed, overpowered by the need to save and protect her from Infidelity as well as teach her a lesson.
What she’d done—going to Infidelity and signing an agreement of intent—was stupid. It was dangerous. It was unacceptable. What would have happened if Deloris hadn’t discovered her profile?
I knew what would have happened.
She would have ended up in someone else’s bed. I believed her in Del Mar when she said she didn’t sleep around. What I needed to know was how the confident, intelligent, breathtaking woman I’d met in Del Mar was lured into the sordid world of Infidelity.
I wasn’t sure why she wanted to reduce herself to a whore, but if that was what she wanted, I was her man. With me, she’d stay safe. The possibilities of what could have happened if she’d truly gone into Infidelity sickened and enraged me. I couldn’t move forward until I’d punished her for her poor decision-making.
Now that was done, and the new rules could begin.
The reality was too obvious to deny. I was an addict in need of one person—Charli.
Now that I’d seen her, touched her, and heard her voice—and moans—I’d do anything within my power to have more. In the few short hours since Deloris’s bombshell, Charli had me acting out of character. Never did I leave the office in the middle of the day. Never did I cancel meetings for perso
nal reasons. And never did I travel without Isaac.
My driver-slash-bodyguard was with her, and that thought consumed me. I wanted—no, needed—to be the one with her. Making my way back toward my office because some things couldn’t wait, I rode in the back of a taxi, another thing I rarely did. Shaking my head, I stared down at my hand.
My cheeks rose at the tingling in my palm. Closing my eyes, I sighed. Damn, I was still hard thinking about the way her tight round ass reddened and the way she grew wet. She said she didn’t like it, but her body told me another story. I could listen to her sensuous body tell me bedtime tales for eternity.
From her reaction alone, it seems that Miss Alexandria Collins and I have not even begun to discover her limits. Ideas of possibilities added to my uncomfortable situation. I couldn’t dwell on those thoughts, or I’d never be able to walk from the taxi to the office. The anticipation of what I could do to her may be the death of me—death by blue balls.
One year wouldn’t be enough.
I was done with Infidelity. I didn’t care how financially beneficial it had become: Demetri Enterprises was walking away before Infidelity imploded. Once I was out and no longer associated with it, that was what I planned to have happen. The bigger it grew, the more of a risk it presented. Already poor decisions had resulted in issues. I wanted out.
My thoughts went back to Charli. I wanted to believe that she was lured, tricked, or scammed into signing with the agency. I didn’t want to believe that she stooped to sell her greatest commodity—herself. The cold, hard reality was that she had. She’d signed the agreement of intent. She’d signed a one-year commitment. What she didn’t realize was that it no longer existed.
I didn’t own her as she thought, not really. Hell, I didn’t want that. I only planned to let her think that I did for a while, so that she could fully experience the consequences of her actions.
When I spoke to Ms. Flores this morning, I didn’t rent Charli for a year: I freed her. It cost a damn fortune, but I did it. I also told her to let Alexandria believe it was business as usual for Infidelity. I wanted Charli to think the deal was complete. And then, as soon as our conversation was done, Deloris deleted all of Charli’s files. There was no record of Alexandria Collins anywhere on the Infidelity network. I’d made myself very clear: Alexandria’s employment was terminated. The transaction cost me the entire year of her agreement, a bonus for expediting the process, as well as the additional fee for keeping the whole deal confidential. Fuck, I’d almost paid more for Charli than Demetri Enterprises originally invested in Infidelity. She was expensive, but I refused to allow her to be a whore.
The taxi stopped outside the building housing multiple floors of Demetri Enterprises. As I glanced up at the glass structure, I realized that I’d accomplished nothing during the drive, not even looking at my phone. Running my hand over my face to refocus, the lingering scent of Charli almost derailed my efforts. Damn, I needed to get my head on straight or the next few hours would be a disaster.
Oren was in town.
If it weren’t for my dinner plans with dear old Dad, I would have stayed with Charli. My father’s timing couldn’t be worse. Or maybe it was Charli’s timing. Either way, I needed to get my head back in the game. Oren Demetri required one hundred percent concentration. If he didn’t have it, he’d sense it like a wild predator sensed weakness. I’d seen him mercilessly eat adversaries alive and spit out their bones, all the while keeping a smile on his face. I wouldn’t let Charli or anyone else allow me to slip up around him.
For the next few hours I needed to push her to the back of my mind. That was all right. She had instructions, and as long as she followed them, her evening would be occupied until we met again. As I rode the elevator high into the sky and tried to concentrate on business, one final realization hit me: I didn’t own Alexandria Collins. From the first time I saw her in Del Mar, she owned me.
My assistant, Dianne, looked up from her desk as soon as I entered her office, the area immediately outside of mine.
“Mr. Demetri, thank goodness. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
I straightened my shoulders, forced myself back to reality, and reached for my phone from the pocket of my jacket. Swiping the screen I saw the number of missed calls and texts. “I told you that I’d be temporarily unavailable.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, following me into my office. “It’s Mr. Demetri. He’s called for you several times, and now he’s here.”
I stopped walking near the large windows. The tinted glass kept the sun’s rays from penetrating, but the shimmering buildings reflected the August heat. With her words, the buildings no longer registered. I ran my hand through my hair and shook my head as I spun back toward Dianne. “Here? Where?”
“The receptionist just called from the ground floor. She said he’s about three minutes behind you.”
“Shit. I’m supposed to meet him for dinner in an hour. I wonder what’s so damn important it couldn’t wait.”
“Also, Senator Carroll called. He’d like you to return his call today.”
I nodded. “Don’t mention that in front of my father.”
“Of course not. Would you like me to tell Mr. Demetri that you’re unavailable?”
I would, but it wouldn’t stop him. He’d barge right in even if I were in a meeting. It wouldn’t matter to him who I was talking to. After all, he was Oren Demetri. It’s his damn name on the letterhead.
“No. I have a few minutes before my meeting with Ellis. Send him back.”
“Yes, sir.”
I took a seat behind my desk as Dianne closed the door giving me a moment of peace. Demetri Enterprises comprised three floors of the seventy-nine-story building, the fifty-sixth through the fifty-eighth floors. The elevator ride alone could take a while.
The commotion beyond my closed door alerted me that it hadn’t taken as long as I’d hoped.
“…Mr. Demetri, Mr. Demetri is here—” Dianne said as she opened my door, her voice disappearing into the booming tenor of my father.
“Yeah, yeah, he knows who his father is. Lennox, can’t you train your girls better than that? I’m the CEO. I don’t need an introduction to you or to anyone in this damn company.”
I’d moved from my desk and nodded toward Dianne. Her expression was classic Oren encounter. By the way her eyes glazed over, she looked as if she’d just narrowly missed being hit by a bus.
“Welcome, Oren. My office is your office.” I then added with all the sarcasm I could muster, “Feel free to barge in anytime.” I turned toward Dianne. “Thank you, Ms. O’Neal, my assistant. Tell Ellis our meeting may be a few minutes delayed. I’ll be in the conference room shortly.”
After the door was closed, I turned to my father. “Girls. Jesus, Dad, are you wanting a sexual harassment suit? Have you checked the calendar lately?”
He waved toward the door dismissively. “You never did have what it takes to run a tight ship. Besides, when I was your age, my girls knew what was expected of them and what would happen if they disappointed me.”
The muscles in my neck tensed as I took a step forward, unwilling to let him run his little tyrant show in my office. “I’m sure Mother appreciated that.”
“You’re not married, not anymore. A little discussion of company rules with that pretty little thing might loosen you up a little.”
My teeth clenched. I’d been in my father’s presence for barely a minute and I wanted him gone. Thankfully, he was usually in London. We worked much better with an ocean between us. “Why are you here?”
“Direct. Maybe there is hope for you.”
I fought the urge to move closer. If I did, he’d pat my shoulder or some other pretense of affection. It wasn’t affection. It was his posturing technique, one he’d undoubtedly perfected in the eighties.
“I wanted to hear about your time in Del Mar.”
What the fuck?
“Del Mar? I told you about the meetings.”
“No,” Oren sa
id as he settled into a chair in the corner of my office. The seat he chose was near a sofa and faced the door. Oren Demetri never sat with his back to the door. Rule number sixty-two: know your surroundings and have the exits and entrances in view at all times.
Sitting at one of the chairs opposite my desk would have violated that rule. Rules can’t be violated. “No, son. You gave me the CliffsNotes. The shit with the Senate is too important to receive the condensed version. I get it. I do. You don’t trust the security of Demetri.” He cocked his head. “I know it’s safe on my end, but maybe that girl you have running your side of things isn’t as capable as you think.”
I sat on the sofa, unbuttoned my suit jacket, and leaned back with a huff. “I met with Senator Carroll on two occasions.”
“Two?”
“Two,” I went on. “The House bill is currently being run through the Senate Finance Committee. Senator Carroll agrees with our proposal. The House bill would result in an exorbitant tax levy for us and corporations like ours. In this financial climate, the taxpayers are tired of big businesses getting breaks. The election is coming. However, with the global economy, even insinuating that businesses should up their tax burden is like showing us the door of the country. Hell, we can do business anywhere.”
“So if he agrees, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that others got to the House Ways and Means committee before the bill was drafted. Tobacco and alcohol have been taxed to death with the sin tax. They’re rebelling. Senator Higgins from Georgia is one of the biggest proponents for the current wording. It cuts the sin tax by almost three percent and uses the wording in this new bill to make up the proposed lost revenue. The president won’t sign a bill that will add to the overall debt. It’s the wording. On face value it doesn’t look like our increase would be significant, but Carroll laid it out. It is. It could be crushing.”
Cunning (Infidelity #2) Page 4