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My heart squeezes in my chest at the agony in her voice. Josephine has also had her fair share of heartbreak. But unlike me, who still has the hope of finding a happily ever after, Josephine has thrown in the towel. I don’t like how cynical she has become about love, though I sometimes wish I had her determination. Watching the endless love between my parents planted deep rooted thoughts in my mind that I’ve refused to shed.
“Be like me. Have sex with them whenyoufeel like it and forget about the rest,” she adds with a snicker. “Maybe Dad and Gabriel are the only good ones on the planet.”
It has been a struggle, but thoughts of Miles have refused to leave my mind. Recalling talking to him about Degas and other nineteenth century artists brings a smile to my lips. He gave me brief history lessons while we strolled through Central Park. During dinner, he talked about his trips to Asia and South America. And the night . . .
I close my eyes and remember how my fingers moved across his well-toned body. Moisture pools between my thighs when I recall my lips trailing his six pack before encircling his huge pulsating dick. Moments later, he filled me with it, stretching my pussy and giving me intense pleasure as he slid in and out, while my hands caressed his strong back.
“Gigi?”
“Huh? Oh. Yes.” Heat engulfs me.
“Are you all right?”
No. I can’t stop thinking of how much I relished Miles fucking me last night. If I’m honest with myself, I don’t just want to meet him again to discuss art, but to also have him take me to heights unknown again.
Pull yourself together, Giselle.
“I’m fine. I’m just wondering who he is. For someone who is so much into the arts, I’m guessing he might be an artist or work with them.”
“Gigi, please forget about him. He’s not worth it. If he couldn’t be bothered to leave at least his last name, then fuck him.”
“I already did.” I giggle despite my despondency.
“You know what I mean.”
I do. But Josephine doesn’t realize that Miles has left his imprint on me, and I know I won’t be able to erase it in a hurry.
CHAPTER3
MILES
Looking at my employees buzzing around me at the prospect of a new deal, I lean back in my chair, satisfied. Everyone thought that with my love for the arts as a child, I would end up in the art domain. But I’ve always enjoyed money, and so I went into the financial sector. After getting my MBA, I started a hedge fund, which has provided handsomely for my family. But I lead a quiet and private life, and hardly anyone knows about my robust financial status.
Sitting in my office in downtown Manhattan, I observe my employees as they talk about the new deal they got wind of over the weekend.
“What do you think, Sam?” I turn to my financial analyst. The buzz dies down as my voice fills the room.
Smiling as if he just won a jackpot, his brown eyes are alight with excitement. He rubs his neatly trimmed goatee and lifts the paper from the desk, skimming the article about a billionaire making an attempt to purchase a social media site.
“He’s set to take over any day now,” he responds.
“Indeed,” my financial manager, Sarah, concurs, nodding her head. “With him acquiring the most famous social media app in the world, he’s sure to make a huge profit.”
I lean back against my swivel leather chair and stare at them.
“My advice is for you to hedge against the deal. His plan will backfire,” Sam interrupts, still grinning. It’s obvious he’s smelling blood and is relishing the idea of making millions off someone else’s mistake.
“Are you sure?” Sarah questions him with skepticism.
Before long, a full-scale argument ensues, with the other team members at the table joining in. I let them fight it out for a while, but I notice I’m not in the mood for thinking through the deal right now. It’s quite unusual, given that it’s the Tuesday after a holiday weekend, and I’m typically always excited to find new opportunities to make money.
My thoughts return to the striking redhead with piercing green eyes who made my Saturday spectacular. I’ve not been able to get Giselle off my mind since I left her in the hotel room on Sunday morning. The memory of her fiery hair sprawled across the pillows and her naked back will forever be etched in my mind like a painting.
Regret consumes me once more for leaving her without a way to get in touch. It seemed like a great idea at the moment, but now, I realize I overcorrected. I haven’t met a woman like her for a long time. In fact, I haven’t connected with a woman the way I did with her since Gwen died. Spending the day talking and the night fucking her were the highlights of my weekend. Of my year, even.
When Ashlyn had called a few minutes after I got home, she’d noticed that something was wrong. Realizing I had been too hasty, I turned around and rushed back to the hotel, hoping I’d find her still asleep. But once I arrived, the receptionist told me that the lady had already left.
I shift in my chair as I remember the way I slid into her, as if she was made for me. Claiming her felt right. Images of her long hair falling over her shoulders and covering her lovely breasts as she rode me hard and fast flash in my mind.
