Her pussy has been waiting for my attention most of the day.
It would be cruel to make her wait a second longer.
When the valet spots me coming, the urgency on my face undeniable, he tosses me my keys before opening the passenger door of my ride. His impending tip jumps from impressive to exorbitant when he shifts his eyes away from the high split in Isabelle’s skirt from her sliding into the low-riding configuration of my car. His respect will see him awarded a generous tipandhis name at the top of my recruitment list.
After buckling Isabelle in, I hand the valet my business card and two freshly minted Benjamin Franklins. “Call me first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll put you in touch with my recruitment officer. Hard work gets you so far. Respect gets you the rest.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” he stammers out, equally shocked and excited.
I dip my chin in farewell before sliding into the driver’s seat and flooring the gas. My excessive speed could have us arriving atMummo Kotiin under an hour, but my impatience sees me directing my sports car to the closest five-star hotel.
I’ve been waiting for this moment for months. I’m not willing to tack another hour onto the already frustrating delay.
We’re two miles from The Plaza when my cell phone shrills through the speakers of my dashboard. I curse under my breath when I spot who my caller is.
Hugo better have a good excuse for his interruption, or he’ll face more than a public dressing down.
“What?” I bark out after connecting his call.
I hear him swallow his smile before he says, “Sorry for the intrusion, boss, but we have a problem with 57.”
Although the regret in his low tone seems genuine, I’m not buying it. We have staff to fix ‘issues.’ We never send the top tier of the pyramid on errands. “Send Patrick.”
“Can’t. He’s away with his kids this weekend.”
While swinging my eyes to Isabelle, I wring the steering wheel. When I notice not an ounce of regret is hardening her alluring features, I ask Hugo, “What kind of problem?”
My annoyance piques when he mutters, “The manager was vague, but he said he has some issues with a staff member issuing free drinks to his friends.”
“Why the fuck can’t the manager handle this type of situation?” I query, dumbfounded how he’s gone from a go-getting entrepreneur to a lazy and incompetent slob in under six months.
The profits my business pour in every week usually holds the management teams’ interests for a good twelve to eighteen months. It’s only when they realize it takes more than location to get a nightclub off the ground do they become unapt. They want the benefits without the hard work. That isn’t the way life operates, and I’m on the verge of informing them of that. I wouldn’t hesitate if Isabelle’s seductive scent wasn’t occupying every nerve ending in my body. She’s finally let go of her inhibitions, and I’m more than ready to collect the dividends of months of hard work.
Isabelle must sense my hesitation. After drifting her hooded eyes over my white knuckles from my deadly grip on the steering wheel, she murmurs, “It’s okay.”
I wring the steering wheel even firmer when Hugo jumps back into the conversation. “Oh, hey, Isabelle.” His voice is playful, and it hints that he knew I wasn’t alone when he called.
The pulse in my jaw shifts to my groin when Isabelle smiles, pleased Hugo recognized her voice even with her only speaking two words.
After returning her greeting with a brief “Hi,” she drags her teeth across her bottom lip.
Her flirty gesture changes the temperament in an instant. It goes from stuffy and rigid to playful and teasing in under a second and has me recalling our thrilling yet too short jet-ski ride earlier today. It’s a reminder that I don’t need a bed to bring out Isabelle’s passionate side. I merely need to get her alone, and where better to do that than in an office with an extremely sturdy desk?
“I’ll take care of it,” I inform Hugo before disconnecting our call, stealing his chance to reply.
The rise and fall of Isabelle’s chest when I lean over to free her lip from her menacing teeth assures me my assumption is one hundred percent correct. She’s heating up everywhere, and I’m barely touching her—yet. “Five minutes, tops,” I mutter through a desire I’m unsure will ever be fully quenched. “And I’ll be biting that lip.”
As the scent I’m intoxicated with fills the cab of my car, Isabelle nods. I flatten the gas pedal just as fast. As Jean-Jacques Rousseau said, ‘Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.’
Whether sweet, bitter, sour, or pungent, I will taste every inch of Isabelle, and I will do it tonight.
27
Iam not usually an impatient man. Prudence is all I know, but it’s tossed into the wind when Isabelle and I enter the manager’s office at the back of my nightclub, 57. I knew from the moment Chance arrived for orientation he’d be a fastidious employee. Unlike when I interviewed him, his shirt wasn’t ironed, his beard was unkept, and no amount of cologne could hide the scent of liquor on his breath. But with candidates low and my focus shifting to other endeavors—predominantly the seductively enticing woman standing beside me—I neglected to place him onto Hugo’s radar.
Instead, Isabelle took his place. I won’t make the same oversight again. Not only will his dismissal from my empire give 57 the opportunity to reach its full potential, but it will also vacate the office, bequeathing me plenty of time to discover if Isabelle tastes as pungent as she smells.
Chance’s eyes snap to mine when I say, “You’re both fired.” I hit him with a rueful glare, wordlessly announcing my frustration before switching my focus to the man who will be responsible for an oversight in inventory.
