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I don't hold hands. I go for the throat. And it's made me very, very wealthy. I work hard—and play even harder.
I have a reputation, VIP status at every club worth mentioning in the city. My weeks are spent in a high rise in the Financial District and my weekends are spent buried inside one of a revolving door of twenty-something's that I forget as soon as they saunter out of whatever penthouse room I arranged for the night.
Sex isn't about connection for me. It's about seeing someone at their most primal, and for a few hours, letting them see me at mine. Then I cut them loose and go back to being the monster. The businessman. Which made my father's proclamation this morning that much more insulting.
It wasn't enough that I took his modest company from profitable to Fortune 500. He wanted something from me that went against my life philosophy. Work first, play second, and anything else was irrelevant. I had no interest in settling down; family life, white picket fences. I’d tried that route and it left me alone and broken.
From that moment own, I fostered a different kind of dream. Long hours at the office, watching the profits soar to the stratosphere. I craved a life lived out of a suitcase, closing business deals on the company jet, then bringing home some pretty woman to warm my bed from time to time. It was my life. Mine.
The blow when his lawyer shared his last minute addendum to his will echoed like the words had just been uttered. I was back in the Maury Barrowman's office. Every piece of furniture was a stock image of the stereotype of a high powered law office. Cold and efficient. When he read the addition that pertained to me, I had to replay it, sure that I’d misheard. As the pieces dropped into place, control slipped from my fingers. A panic that I wasn't used to feeling settled over me. I was paralyzed by a sense of helplessness that I'm sure would have brought a smile to my old man's face—if he was the kind of man that smiled.
“If Xander Robert Wade fails to maintain a genuine, romantic relationship for a month, he will forfeit his right to head the company—and that responsibility will fall to Marie Rachel Wade.”
I'd laughed at my father's bespectacled lawyer at first. For the briefest moment, I'd thought the pinched faced man would wink and shout, 'Gotcha!'. But he sat stony faced and silent, with the same painful expression he always wore. The joke was on me. A cruel, ironic joke—a father that had been absent until a few years ago would take the company I'd turned into a powerhouse and give it to my sister. My sister of all people! A smirking, irresponsible socialite who had been a thorn in my side since birth and had only gone into business to find some gullible businessman inches from the grave to support her shopping addiction. She'd stolen away on the gravy train, and I was going to be thrown from said train because I didn't have a girlfriend?
Hell no.
So I decided I'd play his little game. I'd find some suitable match and play the love game for a month. But I had an itch that needed to be scratched. One final night of debauchery before I played the role of dutiful boyfriend.
And then I saw her.
My fantasy of screwing as many hot women that I could get my hands on faded into the annoying trance music that filled my ears. Everything else became an annoying buzz that didn't compare to the hypnotic pull of the brunette standing near the lockers.
She looked delicious. Legs that went on for miles. Legs that I wanted wrapped around my waist—or spread wide. Two inches shorter and the sultry black dress would have been a shirt. My cock throbbed as I admired the way it skimmed her slender waist and clutched her hips. It ran out of fabric just where it was supposed to. Petite breasts attempted to spill out of the top, her skin glowing in the dim light.
I took a step forward but something in her stance made me pause. That wasn't a ‘come hither’ in the way she stood. Her body was locked in the tense, starting block pose of someone that was about to run for their life.
Her head turned and she saw me watching her and went still as a statue. A drop dead gorgeous statue that rumbled to life as I advanced toward her. It was like some curtain had been pulled and the lights flashed on as she raised her chin and rolled back her shoulders.
It was a valiant effort, but I could tell when someone was putting on a show. Usually, I had no patience for games. No time for them—I made it very clear up front who I was and who I was not. But there was something intriguing about her. An innocence that glittered in the grunge of a sex club.
So instead of heeding the lust that had me swollen, aching to push her against the lockers and hike up her skirt, I smiled instead.
“Hi.” Just one word. It felt heavy and as airy as the smoke that hung in a fog around us. I wanted to clear it all out. With this woman, I didn't want the lights out. I wanted to see every beautiful inch of her.
The lust dripped from the word and she heard it and answered in kind, biting her lip for a millisecond before she released it and gave me a once over with eyes as alluring as the hair that spilled past her shoulders.
When she drew closer to me, I had to force the smile that wanted to own my lips to play it cool. There was nothing but fire in my veins when she pressed her chest against me, her face upturned and mine to admire. She was striking in a way that left me breathless. She had a dainty but stubborn chin. Her full, thick lips shone with a pink gloss that made me want to ravage her. My eyes took in her petite nose, nostrils flaring as I wondered what thoughts were running through her mind. And those eyes—I realized they weren’t brown at all. They were a rich hazel, flickering with gold, filled with a passion that made me feel like I was the one on display. Like I was the one being hunted.
She leaned in and her hair smelled like strawberries and summer. I bit back a growl of want when her lips brushed my ear.
“Hi yourself.”
She stepped backward, leaving me wanting, needing more. Before I could say something clever or do something bold like pull her back to me and kiss her, she walked away.
I watched her, stunned, as she faded into the smoke. The slim corridor seemed to vibrate around me, the lockers creaking like they were leaning in, just as enraptured by this mystery women as I was.
If you're smart, you'll let her go. Tonight wasn't about wooing. That was for the morning. My assistant, Caitlyn, had already lined up several potential matches that I'd be interviewing in between my meetings.
Tomorrow was for conversation. Tonight was for moans.
But my feet pulled me in her direction, questions firing one after the other in my head. Who was she? Why was she here when she so clearly didn't want to be? What would she taste like when I kissed her?
When...not if. Because I had no idea what tomorrow held, but I wasn't leaving this club without kissing her.
The rest of the people at the club barely registered on my radar. A couple pawed at each other in the doorway. A woman here, guys scattered there and everywhere. I didn't know if the music was hypnotizing me or if I was under some spell, but I studied her. The way she turned something as simple as walking into a dance that beckoned me to follow her lead.
The place was a maze and she navigated it like she knew the waters well. The Red Door Club had all the class you'd expect. I had a feeling the darkness was intended to hide the disrepair as much as ambience. Strobe lights flickered across monochrome walls.
