My lips quirk in amusement when she thrusts out her hand to farewell me with a handshake.
Never one to part ways on a sour note, I raise her hand to my mouth and press a kiss to the edge of her palm. It’s one part of the body that is often ignored, even with it doing most of the work for your hands. “Until Saturday, Isabelle.”
She waits for our eyes to collide before she dips her chin, slips her hand out of mine, then hesitantly makes her way to the departure lounge. I watch her, aware I look like a creep but unable to force my eyes away.
Organizing a casual hookup is not unusual for me, but the sudden realization I won’t be able to strip emotions out of our exchange as I do my business dealings is foreign.
It’s fortunate for me risk-taking is what I live for. Whether in business or personal life, if I want it, I go for it because I’d rather die failing than wondering what could have been.
Isabelle has sparked my interest, and unlike a man too afraid to work out why, I’m going to endeavor to ignite the flame to an enraging inferno. My empire is the success it is because I don’t comprehend the words ‘back down.’ Now my personal life will fall into step—even if I have to strongarm it into submission.
4
Air whizzes from my nose when my eyes shift to my watch, noting it’s a quarter past ten Saturday evening. My club is full to the brim with patrons hankering to wash off the funk of a hard week, yet the clench of my jaw is fierce. I charge double that of my competitors to ensure the homage of my nightclubs remains high. Profits are steamrolling in hard and fast but, once again, my mood is dismal.
I understand tardiness, especially when it comes to the opposite sex. I’m merely frustrated about the number of times I’ve glanced at my watch today. As Hugo likes to say, I’m usually too busy to scratch an itch. Today, I’m seeking any excuse to slack off.
Isabelle hasn’t left my thoughts all week. Her down-to-earth personality was such a refreshing change to the over-gleamed, Stepford-wannabe-wives who usually endeavor to slip between my sheets.
My head has reenacted our interactions in the plane on repeat the past six days. Time and time again, I reached the same conclusion. Isabelle is an unpolished diamond. Her exterior is a little rough, and she could do with a polish, but beneath those minor flaws could be a real gem. I just need her to arrive as per our agreement so I can unearth her polished exterior for myself because if you want anything done right, you must do it yourself.
I barely know Isabelle, however, the hour and a half we spent together during our flight was the longest exchange I’ve had with a woman since Ophelia’s death. Well, if you exclude bedroom antics. Even then, I never went out of my way to make my guests feel comfortable enough to linger longer than necessary. The faster our exchange was over, the quicker I moved onto other rendezvous that didn’t riddle me with guilt.
I didn’t experience that same level of remorse with Isabelle. Her eyes are beautiful. They’re dark pools of seduction that, along with her teasing curves, demand the attention of any man in the room, but there’s more to them than an ability to strip me of my shrewdness. There’s pain reflected, suffering, and a gleam that reveals she’d back the underdog in any fight because she knows as well as I do, it isn’t the size of the dog that matters, it’s how vicious its bite is. I’ve fought for everything I have. Not a dime in my bank account has been placed there without me having something to do with it. Now I can help other underdogs unleash their greatest possibilities, and I’m more than eager to commence that with Isabelle.
My eyes lift from a set of acquisitions splayed across my desk when I detect I am being watched. When it dawns on me it’s the same hankered gaze Isabelle awarded me with when I switched her irrational fear to euphoria during takeoff and landing earlier this week, a smirk raises my lips.
They soon sag when the confidence beaming out of my interrupter is far too confident for me ever to believe she is Isabelle. This is the stare of a woman hopeful for asecondtussle beneath the sheets.
Regretfully, Isabelle and I have only flirted with the prospect of becoming bed companions. Since that’s a title I only use for one-and-done flings, I can’t confidently say that’s what tonight is about. I asked Isabelle to my office for a reason, but the intention behind my change-up has not yet been brought to light. Even knowing she was on her period didn’t weaken my struggle to touch her, so there’s no chance I’ll hold back for a second time. It just seems as if I am impartial to the idea of seeing her almost black locks fanned across the same pillow as many women before her. Our connection was unique, so shouldn’t our pairing be as well?
Once it dawns on Tina, my head barmaid, that she has secured my attention, she prances into my office. Wrongly believing she’s higher ranked than other members of my staff, she props her barely covered backside onto my desk before dragging her teeth over her lower lip. The team at the Dungeon doesn’t wear a uniform, althoughTina’s much-loved micro shorts and midriff tops have had me considering implementing a dress code multiple times the past three months.
Don’t misconstrue, Tina has work ethics by the bucketloads, and the clientele loves her friendly demeanor, but her casual attire should have been all the warning I needed that sleeping with a member of my staff would end disastrously. She was the first woman in a long time who could match my intensity in the bedroom, but not once have I caught myself peering at my watch, praying for the hours to clock over for our next hookup, and I know of her abilities between the sheets.
A lessor man could say I’m foolish hinging my every desire on Isabelle’s arrival this evening. For all I know, she could be a dud in the bedroom, however, I’m not worried. No matter how far in life you are, you never stop learning. From the moment you speak your first word, take your first step, and earn your first dollar, you are continually learning.
Take Isabelle’s nibble on my thumb, for example. I had never seen my hands as an erogenous zone. They’ve earned me millions, got me out of some hazy situations, and have dabbled in far too many businesses to name them all, but not once have I looked at them as I did when Isabelle gnawed on the tip of my thumb. It wasn’t even considering the possibility of replacing my thumb with my cock that captured my devotion. It was the breath I sucked in when our eyes collided for the quickest second. My father’s favorite saying has always been, ‘It isn’t about how many breaths you take, but how many moments take your breath away.’ I never truly understood his statement until that lazy Sunday afternoon in a plane thirty thousand feet in the air.
We all make mistakes, even men as governing as me, but the biggest one I’ve made thus far in my life was when I pulled back from Isabelle after she licked her lips in preparation for our kiss. I regretted it from the moment I did it, and I’ll continue regretting it until I’m given a chance to make it right.
I am free no matter what rules surround me, but the chains of remorse on my shoulders will always bemy biggest challenge, and their weight intensified tenfold Sunday afternoon.
I’m drawn from my thoughts by a somewhat snarky yet willing-to-do-anything-to-please-me voice. “Boss… did you hear what I said?”
Tina scoots closer to me, acting oblivious that her backside is crinkling papers I’ve spent hours compiling. Perusing acquisitions is a favorite pastime of mine, but it isn’t getting close to the pinnacle of pleasure I’m wagering all my anticipations on tonight. My sexual drive has always been excessive, but it’s reaching levels I didn’t even realize it could strive for this week.
“We’re run off our feet out there.” Tina excessively flutters her lashes, a tell-tale sign her inexorable attempts to get back into my bed hasn’t waned in the slightest the past week. “An extra set of hands wouldn’t go astray.” The gleam in her eyes that had me running for the hills quite a few months ago ramps up as she adds, “The tips are alwaysextragenerous when you work the bar with me. So, what do you say? Fancy rolling up your sleeves and tossing together some overpriced cocktails for a couple of hours?”
“I have plans.” My tone is nowhere near as chipper as hers. It has her recoiling as if my snapped words bruised her cheek more than her ego. It couldn’t be helped. She didn’t mention the activities she’d like us to undertake after work, but the frantic nibble of her lower lip as she stares at me with lust-drenched eyes most certainly did.
Unversed at being turned down, Tina huffs before folding one of her legs over the other, forcing the already high rise of her shorts even higher. “Plans with who?”
I hit her with a stern sideways glare, unappreciative of both the jealousy in her tone and the narrowing of her eyes. I have no intention of securing a long-term relationship, but whom I converse with is none of her business. It wasn’t before we slept together, and it won’t be when her inability to remember her place sees her transferred to another division of my empire.
“Call Hugo. He will either come in and assist or contact someone who can.”
Hugo’s social life is as absent as mine. He, too, sleeps, eats, and breathes for my empire. His reasoning behind keeping his mind occupied is as diverse as mine, but for some reason, he refuses to benefit from his expertise. His lodging is provided by me, Catherine keeps his refrigerator as well-stocked as mine, however, not one check I’ve handed him in the last five years has been cashed—not even the exorbitant one I gave him while trying to convince him to leap into the deep end without a life jacket. The false reports in his police record assured me he would be an asset to my team, then the way he endeavored to right the murder of his sister was a sure-fire sign.
