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"I did have fucking pockets, you know," I say to her, trying to get something in this conversation.
"I know," she says without looking back. "We make those pajamas in a factory in Shanghai. Call me if you decide you want to get serious about your future."
And just like that, she’s out the door and walking toward her car.
I watch as she drives away, thinking about what she said.
Vivian and Carter.
I think about what the newspapers said.
They’re probably both in Manhattan right now.
Maybe it’s time I paid them a visit.
Carter
These high ceilings, crisp white tablecloths, and that signature 'Ivy League Scramble' with eggs, sausage, and goat cheese makes me feel at home. I've brought Vivian here to the Harvard Club for brunch, and I can tell that even she's impressed. I know what you're thinking, this is a club exclusively for Harvard alumni and that makes me some sort of effete liberal.
In fact, if you’re so inclined, the whole Harvard thing with my protecting the environment makes me one of those wimps you see on television.
You couldn’t be farther from the truth.
You want to know why I’m against Liam? Really?
I watch as Vivian delicately nibbles at her Berry Bowl, placing one berry at a time in between her lips—raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, and blueberries. Watching her lips redden under the stain of the berries makes my cock twitch.
It’s been two weeks since my office. Two weeks of meetings—either meeting with her directly, or her and Liam. And every time I’ve tried getting close to her…her defenses go up. What am I doing wrong?
In fact, why am I even bringing her here? To impress her? What am I? 16? Trying to wow a girl into letting me in her pants.
Why am I so affected by her?
"Recognize anyone you know?" Vivian asks. I'm looking around, not because I expect to know anyone, but because the last thing I need right now is my cock tenting my khakis. I need a distraction.
"I'm a Harvard alumni," so the likelihood of me running into an old friend is pretty high. Maybe someone I played football with. Maybe an old study group partner.
"I see, well I—"
Her response is cut off when her phone rings. It's a shrill and high-pitched ring tone, and I have no idea how she can stand to have that on her phone. People are looking at us, frowning. The club rules are strict about the use of cell phones. Ringers have to be set to silent, so I'm expecting someone to lodge a complaint.
"It's my office. I have to take this; I'll be right back, I'm really sorry," Vivian says, waving to me with her hand apologetically. I watch as she scoots her chair back and exits the room to answer the call. I can't help but look at the way her perfect ass sashays across the dining room floor and out of my view. I don't use the word 'perfect' lightly, but even I'll admit that she's a damn near perfect woman. Her petite but curvy frame coupled with the way her blonde hair cascades down and around her shoulders, drives me wild. I reach down to take a sip of my coffee when I hear a commotion coming from the back of the room. It sounds like it's coming from the entrance, and I look around to find the source.
"Sir! This is a member's only club. I'm going to have to ask you to leave!"
I turn around to see a man from the security desk waving down someone who is trying to enter the dining room as a non-member. He seems to be walking fast.
"The fuck it is! Do you know who I am? I'm here on important business; give me a few fucking minutes," he says with a snarl.
Wait a minute … the man in question is heading straight toward me and I recognize that voice anywhere. It's Liam Jeffries."
He storms up to my table, one fist balled in his pocket. I can tell from his posture that this is going to be a hostile visit. "Who the fuck do you think you are, Carter?"
"It's nice to see you too, Liam," I say, standing up to greet him with a fake smile. Given his agitation, it doesn't seem like a good idea to remain sitting. There's no way I'm going to let him get the best of me. If he's going to cause a scene and call me out in front of all these people, he better be ready for the consequences.
"Fuck you, Carter. I know all about your little plot to take me down."
"Well, that's dramatic."
