Dr. Stud

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt… to just talk to her some more,” I finally mutter. “After you have introduced her to Sophia. After you’re certain that she is acceptable for our daughter.”

“All right!” Brock hoots. I see a couple of business people glance over at us curiously.

“Totally fair,” Royce smiles. “And thanks. I really appreciate it. We can talk more about the casino stuff later, right?”

“Don’t blow smoke up my ass, Royce,” I snarl, getting up from the table. “You’re pushing your luck.”

Chapter 8

Bunny

When I wake up, it takes me a moment to realize where I am. The light through the window is pinkish-gray. The comforter I’m lying on is so thick it crawls halfway up my open legs.

Was I drunk? I’m not sure, but my mouth is really dry. I did have a good deal of alcohol in me… It must be seven or eight o’clock by now. I can’t believe I slept the rest of the day away.

Pushing myself to sitting, I squint to see the room. With the sun going down, everything seems charcoal-sketched. Artsy. The ornate mirror on the wall, the writing desk, the sitting area arranged just so. It’s all perfectly put together.

My muscles creak and complain as I try to slide off the end of the bed. I must not have moved, not even a little bit. The last thing I remember was…

Oh, yeah. Trey. That was terrific.

I can feel my cheeks bunching up as the smile creeps across my lips. Today was a very good day for me. Actually, the last two days. I like having a solid menu of sexy shenanigans to pick from. A little blowjob here, a little light fingering there, just a whole world of sexy potential.

That’s my kind of world.

Finally, my feet touch the floor and I curl my toes in the plush shag carpet. Fibers tickle my feet as I walk to the bathroom, snatching my cell phone from the end table on the way.

Wow, this is some kind of hotel. The bathroom is enormous, and it looks like it was carved out of a single alabaster slab. With fixtures in gold and crystal, I’m almost afraid to turn the water on. I don’t want to leave grubby fingerprints all over everything.

Come on, girl, you deserve this, I coach myself. Live a little.

Interestingly, the crystal is almost warm to the touch. The water seems silky as I splash it on my face.

Brushing my teeth is a relief, too, and I feel a hundred times better when my teeth and tongue are clean and slippery. My stomach rumbles slightly.

“Let’s go see about that dinner Trey promised us, shall we?”

I squint at the front of my phone, scrolling through my messages. The thrift store back home is having a sale. Dahlia checked in. And a number I don’t recognize…

First text: Hello, Bunny. Is that how you spell your name? You probably don’t recognize this number… It’s Trey.

Next text: I’m sorry I won’t be able to dine with you tonight. Family business. My deepest apologies.

Next text: I’ll see you soon, I hope.

Great. So what am I supposed to do, have dinner by myself? I thought these rich kids were supposed to have manners or something.

Dahlia’s text is nothing special. Just checking in, curious how I like Chicago, asking me to send her a picture. Then another text saying good morning and did I do anything fun last night…

Good morning? No.

Hold on.

It’s six thirty in the morning. What the heck happened?

First I want to panic, but then I realize I don’t have anything to panic about. There’s no job I’m late for here. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, just twelve hours later than I thought.

Dang, though. I really was looking forward to dinner with a billionaire. See what all the hype is about.