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Khristian
“You know, we should really catch up on old times,” Claudia says, purring in my ear as I try to unhook her talons from my arm.
“I’m busy all week,” I tell her, annoyed.
Of all the people I didn’t want to run into while in Paris, or anywhere for that matter, it’s her. Even though I knew the cocktail party we were invited to, along with several other companies, would inevitably result in us seeing one another.
She glances across the room. “Oh, I can see why. Is she the latest?”
I ignore her comment. “I see the company is doing well with you at the helm.”
She sighs. “Don’t do this.”
I frown. “Do what?”
“Play nice. We didn’t end well, I get that. But we can still have an arrangement while we’re in town, can’t we? You always did know how to hit the spot, Khristian.”
While I detest this woman with a passion, I can’t deny she was a good lay. Adventurous in the bedroom; she was up for anything. Somehow though, the shine wore off when we didn’t connect in other areas.
Despite my reputation, I know you can’t build a relationship on sex alone. It’ll soon fizzle out. As we did.
As my gaze travels across the room, I see Imogen sitting at the bar talking to Morgan. Every now and again she glances over and our eyes meet. She never, ever once looks at Claudia.
My dick kicks in my pants at her attire.
She’s wearing a little black cocktail dress she picked up today and sky-high stilettos. I insisted on buying both, much to her annoyance, but one thing she’ll have to learn about me is that I don’t mind splashing my wealth around on a beautiful woman.
I also love picking out clothes for her. Especially hot, little dresses. I don’t like her to be too revealing, not that every man’s head hasn’t already turned when she walked across the room earlier. Imogen has an aura about her that you have to see to believe. She’s understated and elegant, and I can’t get enough of it.
That dress… I should send Yves Saint Laurent a thank you note. It makes her legs look longer. I undress her with my eyes and I can’t wait to get her back to the suite.
“Isn’t she a little young?” Claudia follows my gaze.
Imogen is only eleven years younger than me. It’s not a big deal. I’m also not going to divulge that she’s an employee. That’ll just make things worse, and one thing my ex likes to do is gossip. She also has a bullshit radar like no other…
“Must mean I’m doing something right,” I mutter.
“Nobody can suck your cock like I can, K,” she purrs, running a hand up my chest.
It feels like a snake, rather than a woman trying to seduce me.
To look at, Claudia is a very beautiful woman. But I lived with her and I can attest to the fact that beauty really is only skin deep. Especially with her.
I tried for longer than I should have, trying to make things work, but I always knew deep down Claudia was a snake. She was only with me for the money. The lifestyle. Prestige.
Not for me.
Of course, I should have known she’d make her move eventually, I just didn’t expect it to be here, especially knowing I’m here with Imogen. Claudia didn’t love me, and I didn’t love her. But she still wanted to get back together after we broke up. There was no way I was riding that gravy train again.
I snicker. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
“She doesn’t look like your type.” She doesn't keep the disdain out of her voice. “For one she’s not as thin as you usually like.”
I turn and stare at her. “What a monstrous thing to say.” I love everything about Imogen’s curves. She’s not fat by any means. She’s glorious. Every damn inch of her.
I remember her little note on the hand-written menu at Endeavors that read: loves my curves and wobbly bits. I can’t wait to be all up and in her wobbly bits.
She slaps me on the arm playfully and I down the rest of my glass. “You know I’m just being ironic.”
