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“Tucker,” she said. “What is this?” she demanded, holding out the Palladium card.
I grabbed her hand.
“Honey, let’s go to a conference room so we can have some privacy,” I rumbled, exerting some pressure. “Come on.”
But she resisted, shaking her head furiously, those brown curls bouncing.
“No,” she said flatly. “I want some answers. What the fuck is this?”
I took a long look at her, then another long look at the card.
“It’s my credit card,” I said slowly. “Remember, I gave it to you? To buy yourself some clothes.”
“I know that,” she spat. “But why, on Wiki, does it say that only millionaires can get this card? That it’s for ultra high net-worth clients of the bank, who on average are worth one hundred million dollars?” she demanded, hands on hips, chin jutting out. “Are you even Tucker McGrath?” she demanded again hotly, shooting sparks. “Who the fuck are you?”
Now I knew I had to get her into a conference room, my employees were openly staring now, not even bothering to pretend to work. So instead of trying to persuade her nicely, I took things into my own hands. With one fell swoop, I picked her up in my arms and strode over the conference room, kicking the door shut behind us and pulling down all the shades.
“What the fuck?” the brunette sputtered, struggling to get down. “Let go of me, fucker!”
I growled then.
“That’s right, I’m a fucker because I’m the man who fucks you,” I said threateningly. “Every day, every night, I fuck that pussy so go ahead and call me fucker,” I rasped.
That made Laurie pull back a bit, still hissing. I’d put her down and she was a glorious sight to see. Her hair had fallen down and curls trailed around her face, framing it, highlighting the flush, her lips rosy and parted, breathing hard.
Plus her breasts were magnificent. In the tight sweater they were like a ship’s prow, jutting out, bold, beautiful, heaving as she stared at me with accusatory eyes. Plus, that ass. Fuck, she’d taken my advice, wearing tight clothes and the effect it had on me was electric, my cock jutting like a hammer ready to slam.
Except there was the problem of my identity.
“Laurie, I can explain,” I began, hands up, a conciliatory look on my face.
“You better!” she shrieked, this time hurling the Visa at me. I ducked in time, the rectangle bouncing off the wall with a chink, falling to the floor. But I didn’t care, the Palladium Visa meant nothing to me, was nothing but an accoutrement to my massive wealth.
“Are you even the delivery man?” the brunette shrieked again, staring at me with accusing eyes. “Or is this, is all this, a lie?” she said, gesturing to the conference room, the office beyond.
“It’s not a lie,” I said slowly, “and yes, I am the delivery man. It’s just that I wear a lot of hats. I’m not just the delivery man, I’m the CEO, the boss, the task master, the guy who runs this place,” I said, staring into her eyes. “I play a lot of roles and delivery man happens to be one of them.”
Laurie just shook her head.
“But I don’t get it,” she said, lips pursed. “I mean,whywere you making deliveries that first night to my apartment? And if you are the CEO, why didn’t you tell me?”
I began slowly.
“Honey, part of my job is to understand the concierge business through and through. There isn’t any way to make informed decisions unless I get my hands dirty, get into the nitty-gritty of things. So yeah, I make deliveries on occasion, putting on the jacket and hat, going up and down stairs, getting a feel for the job itself. Because how can I understand the job unless I actually do it myself?”
And that seemed to penetrate the fog of rage surrounding her.
“Okay, I get it,” the brunette panted softly, still angry. “But why didn’t you tell me? What was the point of this charade? Did you not trust me or something?”
And this was going to be the hard part.
“Of course I trust you,” I said, warmth in my eyes. “But honey, when women get a whiff of how much I’m worth everything changes. It’s hard to describe but there’s a breed of women in Manhattan who are all about the money. I could be a complete fuck, treat them like shit, and they wouldn’t care so long as I gave them an allowance, bought them clothes and jewelry, set them up in an apartment. They’re after one thing only, and it’s called cold, hard cash.”
She paused for a moment.
“And you thought I might be one of them?” she asked tightly.
I shrugged.
