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He and his team rise to leave.
“Don’t fault me for your poor presentation,” he says as they walk away from me and my own team.
They all give me the cliché yes-man words of support, but it all falls on deaf ears. I’m irate. The fool either thinks I’m in bad faith, or he’s blind. I’m the one trying to save hisenterprise.
Either way, the man isn’t a partner. And frankly, it isn’t even worth trying to make him one. He’s a rival- a competitor in the way of my long-term goals.
I feel a throb in my temple, and I pray it isn’t a migraine. Fuck, I need a drink and a woman. Thankfully I’m in a club that’s chock-full of both.
I scan the club and the writhing mass of partiers. I can see the usual lot, drunk frat types, and more than a few too easy looking girls in cocktail dresses. The idea of going to the hoard crosses my mind, but the thought doesn’t excite me.
I look away from the dance floor and bar- to the dining tables. At this point in the night they’re usually empty. The normal occupants are good and drunk and want to either dance or fuck.
Tonight, however, there is one occupant.
The club may as well be empty. My eyes are locked on her, and I quickly make my way down to her. As I near her, I make note of her impressive stature.
Her eyes raise from her glass and her gaze nearly locks me in place.Who is this woman?
“May I help you?” She asks as her eyes run unashamedly up and down my body.
I simply smile.
“I’m not sure yet,” I say, holding my hand out to her. “The name’s James.”
Her eyebrows arch and a smile spreads across her face.
“Alexa.”
“I hope you’re not sitting here because you can’t dance,” I tease.
She snickers before knocking back the rest of her glass. She takes my hand and lets me pull her to her feet.
“Can you?” she asks, her face just inches from mine.
