Page 13 of Lust


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That half smile turns into a full-blown one as she approaches me. My gaze flickers to the camera in the corner. How often does he check the footage? I debate for a split second if I should stop her.

I lose that debate.

She threads her fingers through my belt loops and pulls me in for a kiss. Her tongue dances with mine, body arches against me. Three more seconds, and I’ll bend her over this fucking desk, hike her skirt up, and find out just how soaked her panties are. Reluctantly, I break away, hearing my father talking just outside the door.

“Later,” I promise, fixing my belt and stepping back as my father opens the door.

“Ms. Genovese, thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for having me,” she replies.

“You missed the meeting.”

My father glares at me, pissed I’m calling him out in front of Milana. “The only meeting that matters is the one I have right now. You’re free to go. I’ll take care of Ms. Genovese.”

I brush my hand against hers as I walk past, the heat from our touch warming my skin. My father instructs her to have a seat, and I close the door, leaving the two of them behind, trying to shake the feeling that I’ve left a lamb alone with a lion.

13

Milana

Be confident. I remind myself of this as I take a seat across from Stefano. He’s relaxed in the chair, almost as though he isn’t necessarily interested in what I have to say but is entertaining me regardless.

“You don’t appear to be prepared, Ms. Genovese.”

It would seem that way. I didn’t bring a portfolio or documents. I don’t have a slideshow prepared. I’m more of a hands-on type of girl.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Moretti. I’m prepared. My driver is waiting out front for us.”

He arches an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of him. It’s possible he has other meetings today. Plans that don’t include my field trip. But he rises and escorts me outside.

We leave the Moretti estate behind, my driver knowing where we’re going. When it comes to Stefano, telling him my idea wouldn’t have been enough. Salvatore already told me he tried suggesting this very same thing to his father. He’s a businessman. All about the money. He needs proof it’s worth it.

“Mr. Moretti, I’m certain you’re aware this is one the most popular restaurants in the city. Only the elite dine here. And that’s when they’re able to score a reservation.”

We walk past the line and head inside, ignoring the frustrated glares as we’re shown to our table. I basically had to promise my left titty for a reservation. Okay, not that extreme, but I did promise the host a credit to bet on the next game. Thanks to Salvatore, I was able to make that happen.

“Take in the atmosphere, Mr. Moretti. Notice how the people behave.” He looks around. People are ordering appetizers, desserts, and wines. “They appear happy, right? Food does that. Wine does that.”

Our waitress appears, a pretty blonde with big boobs and a bright smile. Mr. Moretti orders for us, not bothering to see if I like roasted duck.

“This isn’t a casino, Ms. Genovese.”

“I’m aware. However, the atmosphere is the same. People come here to gather for a common purpose. Money. Satisfied customers spend more money. Distracted customers even more. There isn’t a single unattractive server in this restaurant. Sex sells, and the men who come to your casino want to buy it. I’ll be clear, I’m not suggesting you employ workers who are willing to sell it, but those who sell the idea of it. Let those men believe they have a chance by flaunting their money and wealth. The more they spend, the more attention they get. They can get their bellies full, and their egos stroked at the same time. All the while, you’ll be making more money.”

The waitress returns with our drinks, ensuring us the food will be out soon. Mr. Moretti blatantly admires her ass as she walks away.

“My cut is ten percent.”

I don’t have to explain myself. I’m bringing in the restaurant aspect and all that comes with it. The casino is all his.

“You get the restaurant up and running, and if there is a profit the first month, I’ll agree to ten percent.”

“And if we break even?”

“Then you failed.”

It’s a risk. Most restaurants don’t turn a profit for a couple of years. Not with the start-up expenses and payroll. He’s giving me one month. One month to prove myself.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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