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After a brief hesitation, the woman said, “Regina.”
Skylar nodded. “Right. Regina, tell me, do you know what his record is for one night? How many orgasms? How many women? I’ve asked him for details but Julian’s being modest.” She pouted as if him denying her his sexual statistics was an unbearable hardship.
Julian roughly took her by the elbow and began firmly guiding her toward the door despite her attempts to stay where she was.
“Excuse us, Regina,” he said, ever the fucking gentleman.
Regina, on the other hand, was a lost cause. “Oh sure, Julian. Maybe when you’re done, we can catch up sometime?”
Skylar stiffened and let out a little growl, trying to get away again, but Julian’s grip was implacable.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he clipped out, “but I wish you well.”
Skylar cackled like a mad woman. “He wishes you well, Regina. Isn’t that grand? It’s not the same as eating you out or taking you up the ass, but what do I know? Maybe it’s secret code for ‘I’ll gather my whips and ball gag and meet you at your place in an hour,’” she called.
“Enough!” Julian bellowed. Turning slightly, he ducked and gently but firmly shoved his shoulder into Skylar’s belly, then straightened, so her upper half was dangling down his back, and her thighs were pinned to his chest by his firm grip.
“Let me go!” Skylar shouted, furious at how he was once again tossing her about like a ragdoll. Plus, she was still holding that damn binder she’d brought for Hardy; it weighed down her arms as she struggled to keep hold of it. Even in the throes of anger, she knew she couldn’t leave it behind.
“I’ll let you go when you calm down.”
“I’m not going to calm down!” she shouted as he carried her outside the restaurant. To her horror, the last face she saw wasn’t Regina’s but that of Hardy Priese, staring after her with a sick look of pleasure on his face. Oh no, hell no. She was not adding to Julian’s reputation as a fucking sex god by letting him act like a Neanderthal, making Hardy think he was going to give her a hard fucking like she deserved.
“Put me down,” she said coldly and calmly.
“No.”
Regina’s gorgeous face and the way she’d looked at Julian with familiarity and desire cut into her like a thousand arrows. Her expression crumpled, and even though he couldn’t see it, it horrified her. So did the sudden tremors that racked her body.
She’d just humiliated herselfagain, not just in front of her boss but in front of one of Julian’s . . . Julian’s . . . .women.
“Please,” she said, her voice weak and broken, “let me down.”
Julian paused. For one moment, Skylar thought he was going to do it. She planned in her head. She wouldn’t wait for an Uber. She’d walk away and wait until she was out of sight before ordering one. Then she’d return to her apartment, lock herself in, and she’d never come out. She’d write up her resignation since, clearly, she couldn’t face Hardy Priese ever again, and then—
Julian started walking again.
“Julian—” she whispered.
“Quiet, princess. I’m taking you to my car. Then we will very calmly deal with what needs to be dealt with.”
True to his word, Julian walked to a car—a Porsche Taycan—that he beeped open. The world spun as he swung her off his shoulder and deposited her in the front passenger seat, binder in all. However, he took said binder from her and flicked it into his backseat as if it was a plastic frisbee before straightening, then shutting the door. Immediately, she tried to open it, but it stayed locked.
What the hell? Did he have the child locks in place?
Who the hell put child locks in a Porsche Taycan?
He settled into the driver’s seat, and she didn’t realize that she’d asked the question out loud until he shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe how handy child locks can be. And before you say anything snarky, I’m a Big Brother. I occasionally transport kids in my car, kids who aren’t always discerning about what buttons or levers they open.”
That stunned Skylar silent but only for a moment. “You’rea Big Brother?”
“You sound surprised. Because I’m an escort?”
“Um, no. Because you’re rich and busy with your career, and that’s a commitment that takes time.”
He shot her a glance. “I make time for the things and people I care about, Skylar,” he said, and considering she was currently in his car after he’d witnessed her lose it in a restaurant in front of one of his clients, she supposed that maybe, just maybe, he meant that he cared a little about her.
Mine.
