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But I have a job to do, and seduction can happen just as easily right here. If I can keep myself from staring at her tits all night, I’ll be just fine.
“What does your family do?” she whispers.
“Construction. Luxury high rises, that sort of thing.”
She nods, and then she falls back into silence again.
We walk into the party, and most of the eyes in the room follow us. It’s just the way these things are. Most of the people in this room are either people who have worked with my father’s company, people who want to work with the company, or politicians my father and brother have cozied up to to get our permits fast-tracked. Of course, the reason for the gala is to raise money for the foundation my father set up, providing scholarships for promising future architects. It’s a worthy cause, and I do what I can to help with it, even if it wasn’t adamantly, clearly expected that I be here. I do a tour of the room with Samantha on my arm, greeting people I know, as well as people my father told me he wanted me to meet. Everyone knows I’m the charming one in the family, so schmoozing our client base is generally left to me. Again, not my preferred area of focus, but I can be patient. After I finish this next mega project, I’m branching out and finally getting to work on some of my own building projects, and they sure the hell won’t be luxury high rises for the filthy rich.
We stroll toward yet another group of clients, and I greet each of them with a handshake. This is all second nature to me, but I keep glancing at Samantha to see how she’s holding up.
“Dante. I want to talk to you about taking on another project for my firm.” This is from Hans Engel, who hired our firm last year to build a high-rise office tower with luxury condos. I spearheaded that project, and we’ve gotten more than a few contracts based on his recommendation.
I nod. “Let’s do it, then. You know you can call my father’s assistant anytime to get the ball rolling.”
“I’d rather deal directly with you. I want you on this,” Hans says. “Do you have any idea how good that building has been for our image? Revenues are higher than any of us projected, even in our wildest dreams, and that’s because of the quality of the building.”
“Easy, Hans. He’ll know to bill higher next time,” one of our other former clients, Larry Rogers, murmurs. Everyone laughs, including me.
“Well. You pay for quality, right?” I ask with a smile, and Hans nods.
I glance at Samantha. She’s listening intently, but, as I asked, she’s staying quiet. She smiles when the others joke, reading the situation perfectly. These men expect to be humored, even when their jokes aren’t that funny.
“And who is this beautiful creature?” Larry asks, and Samantha smiles sweetly at him.
“This is my friend, Samantha,” I say, placing my hand at the base of her spine.
“Stunning,” Larry says. If he wasn’t seventy-six-years old and one of our best clients, I’d be less nice about his obvious admiration.
Samantha just nods serenely, still smiling.
Smart girl. Humor him, honey. Play the role. And the fact that she follows instructions so well…well, that’s just one more thing for me to try not to think about too damn much.
I glance across the room and see one of our biggest clients standing alone. I smoothly separate Samantha and I from the group we’re currently talking with and steer her toward the bar. “I need to talk to someone. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Why don’t you go grab a drink or something.”
“I can do that,” she says in a bit of a breathy voice, and my gaze drops to her full breasts, her lush cleavage. When I look back up at her, she’s got the prettiest damn blush to her cheeks, and it hits me again how innocent she seems and how badly I want to corrupt her.
“Go on,” I say, and it comes out harsher than I mean for it to. She walks away, and I can’t help but follow the sway of her hips as she walks.
“Get it together, Knight,” I mutter. I give my head a little shake, straighten my cuffs, and head over toward the client I’m supposed to talk up.
But I won’t be leaving her alone for long.
***
Samantha
When I reach the bar, I notice that most of the women seem to be drinking champagne, so I order a glass as well. The first sip is like magic, and I realize this isn’t the cheap stuff we used to get on New Year’s Eve while I was growing up. I take another sip and just let it sit on my tongue for a while, enjoying the taste of it.
A guy in a dark suit slides up to the bar beside me, and for a second, I think it’s Dante, but immediately realize that this guy isn’t tall or bulky enough.
“Hey. Samantha, right?” he asks in a voice as smooth as honey. I glance up at him. He looks like someone from an underwear ad, kind of model-perfect. Nice looking, but after spending the last hour with Dante, I’m not overly impressed for some reason.
“Hi,” I answer, glancing around to see if Dante is nearby. The way this guy is looking at me, like he’s imagining me naked, is already making my skin crawl.
All right, so clearly I wasn’t meant to be a stripper.
Unfortunately, Dante is nowhere around and now I have to try to figure out how to step away without offending underwear model guy.
