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Chloe slowly nodded. Nancy as always, had the right of it. Jordan did have a smooth tongue. He’d already talked her into enough trouble in the past.
Her biggest concern now, however, was trying to find a way to resist her lustful memories. Of holding at bay the thoughts of what that smooth tongue had done to her naked body on many occasions. Her sex clenched as she glanced at the top of the table and recalled the heady nights when Jordan and his clever mouth had tortured her clit. Even now the echo of her screaming his name and begging for release still filled her mind.
And I insisted on a freakin road trip with him.
When would she learn? Traveling all the way to Vegas with her ex had to be the stupidest idea in the entire history of stupid ideas.
Well done, Chloe.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
Jordan brought the green Land Rover Defender up to a smooth stop at the security gate. He’d brought the vehicle for his stay at Laguna Beach, figuring he would use it on short getaways to tour California and down into Mexico. With his head a mess and his management of the resort a drawn out disaster, he hadn’t got any further than a quick trip down to San Diego to see a baseball game.
The security guards ticked his name off of their list and ushered him through. The car was a sweet ride, the music system top of the range. A Beyoncé track was pumping loudly through the speakers as he turned into Chloe’s drive. He waited while the security gates swung slowly open. At the end of the driveway Jordan drew up outside the front door. He was done with using the visitor carpark.
Leaving the motor still running, Jordan opened the door of the SUV. The neighbors wouldn’t appreciate the loud music, but then again, he was past the point of caring.
Enjoy the tunes, Chloe.
If he had been in less of a fighting mood, he would have done the polite thing and parked the SUV elsewhere. But not today. Not this morning. Jordan was fired up and ready to rumble. He wasn’t going to take any shit.
In the days since he’d last been here for the contract signing, he’d thought long and hard as to how he was going to approach the time he spent working with Chloe. If her behavior toward him at the meeting had been any sort of indication, she had decided to play the diva card.
I bet Marta and her sidekick, Gabriela put Chloe up to it.
He’d found it strange when none of Chloe’s usual cohort had made an appearance the other day. But knowing them, they were probably hiding, watching, and listening out of sight. Making plans.
Nope. They were not going to get the better of him. He might have messed up the Laguna Beach gig, but he was still Jordan Royal, part of a global family of billionaires. He’d never been a part of Chloe’s entourage, and there was a limit as to how much he was prepared to grovel.
He had a contract with Chloe’s signature on it. He’d checked every single clause, and nowhere did it say he had to act as Chloe’s personal servant. It was also silent on the subject of what kind of music he could play in his car. She could make all the demands she wished, but he was going to stick to the letter of the contract. Or at least until they got to Vegas.
Standing in the driveway, music pumping, he waited for one of Chloe’s people to rush out and demand he turn the volume down. Or move his vehicle. Or both. This morning, he wasn’t going to do any of those things.
If I’m gonna do the time, first let me do the crime.
This stupid road trip of hers had played right into Jordan’s hands. From LA to Vegas, Ms. Chloe Fisher was going to be subjected to some deep probing questions. Top of the list was the one about Zippo, and how quickly she had moved on. In the confides of the SUV, she would have nowhere to hide.
“Baby, it’s time to tell the truth.”
Oh great, I’ve been here 2.3 minutes and I’m already quoting lyrics from her last album. And that stupid song,“Bitter Babe”.
When it became clear that no one was going to race out of the house to scold him, Jordan turned the car off and climbed out. He’d made his point.
Where are her security people? She can’t be living here alone, can she?
The front door of the house opened, but instead of Marta or one of her brethren it was Chloe who came bounding out. She was dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt, and wore a pair of battered dark blue chucks. The rucksack which she carried over her shoulder made her look more like a girl heading out for a camping weekend with her boyfriend than the world’s biggest pop star.
Don’t think of her like that, she is the enemy.
She took one look at Jordan’s SUV and casually tossed the bag to him, calling out, “Here, bell boy, earn your keep.”
The rucksack landed against his chest with force. “Jeez, what have you got in here, bricks?”
Chloe shrugged. “Just a few things. And you’re late. Don’t make me have to call my manager and tell her that you are not meeting expectations.”
Jordan sniffed at the air, turning his nose up in mock disgust. “Is that what happened to Zippo? He wasn’t up to your high standards?”
She shook her head. “His name is Zapp. I don’t know what your problem is, at least Zapp came for my album launch. And he supported me at the All American Music Awards. In my book that makes him a bigger man than a guy who just ghosts a girl.”
