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A few bystanders look at me, probably trying to figure out who is the rich asshole in the limo, but I just walk past everyone and make my way toward the building. I enter through the main entrance, but I head straight toward the elevators and make my way toward the bar. Just as I expected, Eliza is already there, sitting by herself and nursing a glass of whisky; she might be only 25, but her taste is as refined as my own.
“Alright,” I mutter under my breath, walking across the bar. Eliza looks up at me then, her eyes slightly widening in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” she asks me as I sit down on the vacant seat across from her.
“I’m here for a drink, of course,” I reply with a grin, leaning back and throwing my arm over the headrest. “I’ll have what she’s having,” I tell the server as he comes to take my request, and then I focus my attention on Eliza again. God, she looks even more stunning today, her golden hair cascading down her shoulders like silk curtains.
“How did you know I was in here?” she continues, and I notice that she hasn’t cracked a smile yet. I was thinking that after what happened between the two of us, she’d be happy to see me.
“The maître d’ is on my payroll,” I tell her with a shrug. I’ve been paying her for five years now, and she always tells me when someone important walks inside the bar or the restaurant. Intel—it’s one of the most important assets when it comes to doing business. Or, in this case, when it comes to matters of the heart.
“That’s low of you. I’m your stepdaughter, not someone you spy on.” She takes a sip of her whisky and, even though she has just chided me, she doesn’t look particularly bothered.
“Well, all’s fair when it comes to love and war,” I shrug, but she turns her gaze toward me as she hears my words.
“This isn’t love, and this sure as hell isn’t war either,” she shoots back, and I feel my insides clenching into a ball made of ice. Is she shooting me down?
“This can be whatever you want it to be, Eliza,” I push through, lowering my voice and leaning forward. Reaching for her, I lay one handle gently on her naked knee, my fingertips brushing against the hemline of her dress; my heart picks up the pace as I feel the warmth of her skin, and I purse my lips and look into her eyes. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go to my place.”
The words hang heavy in the air and, judging by the mischievous look in her face, I can tell that she’s pondering my offer.
“And what would we do at your place?” she finally asks, laying her hand on top of mine and dragging her fingernails across my skin. A shiver goes up my spine as she does it, and I feel blood rushing to my cock. It starts hardening up fast and, in a matter of just a few seconds I have a bulging shape tenting my pants.
“Everything,” I simply growl, and her eyes fall away from mine, and her gaze lands on my crotch. She wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, and I just wait as she imagines all the things we can do when we’re alone, just the two of us, and our naked bodies.
“You’re worse than herpes, Carter,” I hear a deep voice say right behind me, and I don’t even need to turn around to know who’s there. Derek Stackford, the man who prides himself on being a thorn in my side.
“What the hell are you doing here? Following me around now?” I ask him, finally turning around so that I can meet his gaze.
“Following you? You gotta get yourself checked out. Why the hell would I be following you? I came here because Eliza invited me.” Alright, I gotta say, I’m a bit taken aback at his words. I knew Eliza was here, but I never thought that she’d be meeting Derek. I mean, why would she want to meet him after what happened between the two of us?
But, looking into Eliza’s eyes, I know it’s the truth. She came here because she had a date with Derek. And now I’m the one looking like a complete tool.
“So, yeah. Go back to wherever you came from,” Derek continues, and I can only translate the grin he has on his face as an ‘I won this round.’ Shit.
“Who do you think you’re talking to, Derek? Just because Eliza agreed to go out with you doesn’t mean that you’re all that important. A date is just a date.” I go back up to my feet and turn to face him, just a few feet separating us.
