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“So old fashioned,” she says with enough sarcasm to annoy the hell out of me.
She pulls out a card and scribbles a number on it. I grab and tuck it into my coat pocket. I glance over at the Napolitano woman again and eye her up and down. When she smiles at the boy she’s talking to, I know I need her. She grabs her iced drink and wraps those thick lips around the straw, pulling back ever so slightly.
She makes my cock hard. So hard, that I’m forced to turn away and enter the lobby.
I can get any woman I want. That’s the truth. Everyone’s got a price attached to their name. Some know their worth, others don’t. This woman knows who she is. She knows she’s worth millions, and she’s going to be a hard sell.
I’ve never backed down from a challenge.
I close the door and lean against the back wall of the gold and glittery lobby, of the new Napolitano Hotel. It’s a grand spectacle of shit, built at a fraction of what they’ll make in the first month. It’s a good scam. I’ll give them that.
I scan the eggshell-colored card and bite my tongue. “Fuck,” I whisper.
Within seconds, I’m calling. I can’t hold back. I don’t care if she holds the Napolitano name. Maybe she’s different. Besides, I’m okay with risk.
I type in the numbers and hold my finger above the send button. There’s no hesitation. I know what I want, and it’s that woman. Even if it’s only for one night.
The phone rings three times. It’s just enough to get me excited. I love the anticipation. I practically live for it.
She answers with a whisper. “Um, hello?”
My cock rises in my pants.
Standing against the gold staircase in the hallway, I respond. “I’m headed to a bar down the road. Care to join me?”
“Who is this?” she asks, playing dumb.
“Rocco Morelli. Who am I speaking to?”
“Someone way too young for you,” she replies.
Her response forces me to laugh. This woman has some humor in her.
I pace around the lobby, walking up the gold stairs. “Do you even know my age?” I ask. “Come to the bar. You won’t regret it.”
She laughs. “You know, whenever somebody says that, I almost always regret it.”
“That’s a good point,” I tell her. “But your friend said you were up for anything. Was that not correct?”
“I shouldn’t even be on the phone at this function,” she says. “You know it’s my father who set this up, right?”
“Why do you think I’m calling you? I need an in,” I admit.
“You can’t be serious,” she mutters.
“No, I’m actually kidding. The real reason I called is to get you in bed with me.”
There’s a short silence, and I think I hear her choke on her food. I wait for her to settle down and face what I just told her. After all, it’s true. There’s nothing I want more than to take her home with me. No business deal could top that.
“Excuse me?” she replies.
“Are you really going to make me repeat myself?” I ask. “I said, I’d like to take you home and fuck your brains out.”
I can hear her walking fast into another room
. The door of the lobby opens and she walks into the center, standing where I was before. I duck behind a corner, on the above floor, and eye her. She’s flustered, face has turning dark red. Either she’s flattered, embarrassed, or she hates my guts. Both reactions work for me, if I’m being honest.
A bit of anger is very sexy.
