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But I’m not content. Not in the least. “May I?” I ask, then erase the gap between us and ruffle his hair a bit, fixing it until it looks a tad more casual than before. His hair is brown, but when the light catches the right way, one can see some stray lighter strands, a bit of dark blonde fighting for space. Doesn’t look like he dyes it, so it’s probably from working out outside. This, my friends, is the observation of an amateur stalker who obviously spends way too much time obsessing over a man.
“Much better,” I say. “I have some work to do, but Astrid will finish this video and we’ll edit it and schedule the post. I’ll let you know when it’s live.”
“Sounds good.”
“Have you scheduled your dinner with Dan Walters?” I ask. If all goes according to plan, in the coming week his hotel, especially the club and restaurant, will get constant social media attention. In between my posts, the group of influencer friends who are coming to lunch and the low key paparazzo operation targeting the politician, it’ll be just what this place needs.
“Yes. Next week.”
“Good. See you all later. Have fun,” I say in a carefree, sing-songy voice.
I toss a glance over my shoulder as I walk out, and catch him staring at me. He’s probably either tapping himself on the back for getting me to stop drooling over him, or wondering what’s up my sleeve. But it’s all part of a plan I just made this morning. He wanted professional, he got professional.
But for tomorrow’s birthday dinner, I’ll do my best to remind him our attraction is anything but professional.
7
Maddox
“How’s everyone doing?”the waitress asks, glancing around the long table.
Been better, I say inwardly. But I manage to smile and go with the flow as the other fifteen people gush over the top notch service while sitting in this exclusive area of one of Dalla’s best steakhouses.
It’s Charles’s birthday after all.
I’m here as a friend, and for the past thirty minutes I’ve been sipping on red wine and glancing at the open double door. Every other guest has arrived, but not Whitney. Even Charles’s girlfriend, a nice brunette with a kind smile, has joined us.
Maybe Whitney isn’t coming.
That should fill me with relief, but somehow it does the opposite. It’s like an uncomfortable sensation is plaguing my body and will only go away when she shows up. The idea of course is laughable. She will increase my heart rate and make me question every decision I make.
I take a long swig of wine.
This is all wrong.
“Maddox,” Grant, who’s been sitting across from me at the table, calls.
Grant is one of the successful partners at Sugar and Silk, an exclusive sugar baby company. He’s a friend of Charles’s, and every so often I bump into him at social occasions. Nice guy. Married his younger assistant a year ago and so far he’s happy.
I sigh. Why is the young woman/older man reference so present in my life lately?
“Hey, man. It’s been a while,” I say.
“I know. I was talking to Charles, and in typical Charles fashion he sold me on using Dallas Proper for any needs our agency may have.”
I smile. “That’s Charles, a salesman through and through.”
“No kidding,” he says, then lifts his tumbler to his mouth. “Though Dallas Proper does seem like a great place for our out-of-town employees who need a place to say, also for bigger meetings and events.”
“We would be delighted to have your business. Things are going great for you, I see.”
“Yes, no complaints.” The sound of his phone buzzes, and he fishes it out of the inside of his jacket. Then, he reads a message and an expression crosses his face. A small smile forms on his lips, and he replies quickly, his fingers flying through the screen. “Sorry. My wife texted.”
Ah.Now I know what that expression is.
Probably what was lacking in my marriage. Passion.
We had sex, plenty of it at the beginning… but passion was still missing.
