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“I think you’d better get the fuck out off my fucking house, lady,” I tell her with gritted teeth.
She shrugs. “If the person you’re counting on to get your back in this is the woman that’s sleeping with the Governor of this state and defending the legislation that will kill your factories, then sure, I have no problem with that,” Tina Ling says and takes another step closer to me. She lifts herself on her feet and leans in closer to me and whispers. “But if you want real friends. Not ones who are spending time with your enemies having brunch at the Harvard Club, or friends who will take care of you. And make you…happy, then give me a call.”
I feel her hands on my abs again, and then slide down. She's at the waistband of my pajamas and she slides her hand in.
I gasp. But she quickly pulls out. I feel something else. I look down.
She’s left her business card.
Literally.
She’s stuck her business card in the fucking waist band of my fucking pajama bottoms.
“I didn’t have anywhere else to put it,” she says to me, smiling sweetly.
She turns away from me and walks to the door. I turn around to watch her open the door.
“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.
78
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—"
