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“Well, Brighton was supposed to be one of our bigger sponsors,” I say, fixing my purse on my shoulder. “If we’ve lost them, that means we’re gonna need more than a fraction of Spencer’s billions.”
“I’m sorry, Car,” she slides off the piano. Zoey wants to take my hand but I bury them both in the pockets of my jeans. Not surprisingly, each of them brush against the well-worn folds of a flyer.
“It’s not about sorry,” I shrug. “We just regroup and try again. Like we’ve been doing.”
I don’t wait for her response, because it’ll likely be more platitudes that I don’t care about. As the wings swallow me up, I hear a faint ‘Good luck’ behind me. I know it’s a peace offering more than a wish - because Zoey of all people understands that this isn’t about luck. Edward Spencer, like all the other bigwigs we’ve approached, is either going to care about what we’re doing, or he’s going to tell me to shove my cause where the sun doesn’t shine.
My heart sinks as my cab pulls up to the location. Surely, he wouldn’t. I’d been so lost in my own thoughts on the drive over that I didn’t realize where the Uber was taking me. I pull out my phone and bring up the email his secretary sent me.
“Oh, this is just great,” I mutter, grabbing my purse with more than a little irritation. I’ll have to take that out on inanimate objects since I’m going to have to be on my best behavior once I get inside. Inside the strip club. “Just typical.”
Upmarket and exclusive, members only… but a strip club nonetheless. And should I have expected any different from the likes of LA’s resident playboy? Probably not. His reputation for coming from one of the richest families in the world is superseded only by his reputation for having a penchant for partying and supermodels. And partying with supermodels.
“Did you get mauled by a rogue bear on your way here?” Edward considers me closely. He’s wearing a mischievous grin that reaches his breathtaking gray eyes, making them gleam in the dim light awash with hues of purples and blues.
I don’t immediately take my seat in the booth opposite him, holding his gaze the entire time. Because I have to. Because if I don’t look directly in those hypnotizing eyes, that means I’ll have to look at the half naked woman gyrating in his lap.
“If this isn’t a good time…” My voice is firm and professional, but I inwardly curse the flush that’s creeping onto my cheeks.
Edward slaps the woman’s ass a few times and, with his eyes still on me, says, “Why don’t we take a break, sweetheart?”
She pouts, or at least I think that’s what she’s doing as she slides off him. Her lips are so heavily enhanced it’s difficult to tell whether it’s an expression or just the way they look by default.
“Don’t keep me waiting too long, Eddie,” she glides a manicured fingernail along the length of his chiseled jaw. “You know you’re the highlight of my day.”
Edward swats her hand away in annoyance. “Make yourself useful and get me another round. And one for the lady,” he nods in my direction.
If looks could kill, the one she gives me would’ve stopped my heart on the spot. I’ve obviously become the bad guy in her story - keeping her from her highlight, or whatever.
“I’m fine, thank you.” I slide into the booth, holding my purse securely in my lap. God only knows what kind of apocalyptic-level microbes are crawling on every surface in this place.
The self-satisfied smirk never leaves Edward’s face. I’m beginning to think it can’t.
“Okay, now that you’ve sucked all the fun out of this place, I guess you can get to the part where you ask me for money.” He makes himself comfortable, like he’s settling in to watch a movie, his arms outstretched along the backrest on either side of him.
Goddamn Zoey for putting this on me. For everyone in our admin group, in fact. Some of them took on three additional contacts to avoid having to go through this. If it was worth it, I wouldn’t have been this upset. But Zoey has already lost Brighton, which falls in the category of ‘You had one job’, and leaves me with even more pressure to seal the deal. With a giant man-child. In the middle of a strip club.
Not exactly what I had in mind when I came here to launch my acting career.
“Thank you for seeing me,” I pull the folder from my purse.
And only once it’s lying untouched on the table between us do I realize it was a bad move. The lighting in here is so bad, there’s no way he’ll be able to read the fourteen point heading, let alone the reams of information I’ve put together.
Edward’s gaze flickers to the folder and then back to my face. “You’re an actor, right?”
“Yes, but I’m here in my capacity as-”
“I can tell.” He leans in, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. “A woman as beautiful as you… You belong on the big screen.”
I know I’m supposed to be professional, representing the community theater and all that bullshit. But I roll my eyes anyway. Because are you kidding me right now?
“Thank you,” I choke out the words for the sake of politeness. “-but I’m not here to talk about acting.”
“Good,” he jumps in without hesitation. “Because I want to talk about how hot you are. And what time I should pick you up for dinner tonight.”
Those eyes. The shock of dark, sleek hair that’s perfectly mussed up. His entire six-foot frame that, even under the guise of his designer suit, I can tell is perfectly toned.
Goddammit. I drop my gaze and try to regain my composure. I wasn’t even aware of him fucking with it in the first place but here I am, fighting to keep from blushing under his unwavering scrutiny.
