I want to listen to his rant, I do, but my fingers are tingling, and my mouth’s parched, and my thighs are crossed so tightly together they could crack a walnut.
‘—never had to do this shit at Volare,’ he finishes as his phone buzzes for the fortieth time.
‘I’ve explained this. Volare have brand equity, Leone don’t,’ I say, a little too sharp. Focus, Jules. ‘Leone don’t carry much weight and they don’t have big budgets. They need you to perform for attention and visibility.’ That’s all I can manage, and I gobble down water.
He doesn’t carry on ranting like I thought he would. Instead, he says the worst thing he could possibly say at this moment: ‘You ok there, boss?’
‘What? Yes, just… hot.’ I hurriedly take my cardigan off, willing myself tocalm the fuck down.
Tiago’s expression is inscrutable. His tongue traces along his bottom lip with intoxicating slowness. I can’t handle the weightof his full attention. I’m not used to it. This is what happens when you don’t have regular sex. You turn into a crazed knot when the nearest man shows a speck of attention.
‘Let it be known I’m tryingreally hardnot to look at your rack right now. I want credit where credit’s due,’ he says quietly, voice low enough to settle under my skin.
Sweet Jesus.
He said it in a self-growth way, like I’m supposed to be proud instead ofimploding with need.
‘Well done,’ I force out.
‘Thank you. Out of curiosity, are they real?’
Him talking about them makes my tits feel tight and heavy, like they’re filled with water. ‘What?’
‘Don’t be offended, but Trey and I have been debating this for about six weeks. I say no, and I’m usually pretty good with this stuff.’
Before I can respond, his phone pings again and I’m way too overstimulated for this. ‘Can youpleasetell your playthings to shut up for twenty minutes!’
He laughs. Hard. Then even harder. I mean, it’s common decency. We’re supposed to be in a work meeting. And what do they have to constantly message him about? Nudes? God, I haven’t sent a nude in about five years. I doubt I still have the angles.
I wonder what they look like. The women, not the nudes. He said he liked Adrienne Bailon inThe Cheetah Girls.I get it, she’s stunning. He must like natural girls, tanned girls, not girls who need a Ukrainian lady to stop them looking so white they’re almost blue.
Tiago leans back in his chair and says, ‘When was the last time you had sex?’
I jump like he pinched me. I temper my voice so it’s not obscenely high, and do a terrible job. ‘Why would you say that?’
His smile’s salacious. ‘Just curious.’
‘Eighteen months ago.’ Why oh why did I tell him that? I’m unwell.
‘That explains a lot.’ He takes a sip of water. ‘Wait, so you never fucked Rogers and he’sstillpussy-whipped?’
‘I don’t get it either.’
He draws out a, ‘Shiiiiit.’
‘I’m fine.’ I shrug, aiming for casual. ‘I take care of myself.’
His eyes sparkle. ‘Like with toys?’ I don’t respond and his grin widens. ‘Do you have them here? I love toys.’
Oh my god.We can’t be having this conversation. We’re business partners. We’re in an alliance. We have acontract.
‘They’re not for you,’ I retort, the hoarseness of my voice glaringly obvious.
‘Yeah but I’m just saying. Where are they?’
I study every inch of his infuriating, taunting face. He knows they’re here, but he doesn’t think I’ll get them out. He’s throwing down the gauntlet. Guesses I’m too chicken to take the bait.
How little he knows me.
