Shutting the door with my foot, I threw my briefcase on the hall table and my jacket on top of that. Mr. Jefferies howled around my feet as I kicked off my shoes; he was either complaining about my foot odor or begging for food…I wasn’t sure which.
“Come on then,” I said, beckoning him to follow me into the kitchen. I poured some dry food into his bowl. “There you go, boy.”
It was barely ten o’clock and I was heading to bed. That had to be a first. I unbuttoned my shirt, threading my arms through and disposing of it in the laundry along with my pants. Turning on the shower, my thoughts wandered back to Angel as my hands moved over my ripped chest. There was something so sexy and innocent about her, even in that daggy, god-awful uniform.
Stepping into the shower, I leaned against the white-tiled wall, my hand enclosed over the girth of my dick. I began to move my hand, rubbing it up and down furiously. My cock hardened against my grip as I imagined feeding it between those sexy lips.
“Fuck,” I gasped. My hand leaned so firmly against the wall that my fingers were starting to bend back. I breathed out as I released, spraying the shower screen with my jizz as my knees almost gave way. I was exhausted.
I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, carefully avoiding contact with the door while silently apologizing to my cleaner who had to deal with that tomorrow. I left the towel in the bathroom and walked naked to my bed, glancing at my form in the mirror. My skin was naturally tanned, a blessing for someone living in London. My hair was a mess, but it worked on me, and so did the stubble that covered my jaw. My dark eyes gleamed back at me, my lips curving into a grin.
In my bedroom, I eased myself between the sheets, making myself comfortable with my pillow tucked under my head. I was a chronic stomach sleeper and I loved to toss and turn. Sometimes my king-sized bed even felt too small. I closed my eyes, for once not needing the aid of pills or alcohol to drift off to sleep.
Chapter Six
My stomach growled as I realized I’d been holed up in my office for hours. Determined to get the presentation I was working on finished, I asked Carly to grab me a sandwich from the deli down the road. Leaving the office meant losing time, and I wanted this done today even if it meant staying here all night.
My phone buzzed against the hardwood mahogany desk. I picked it up and barked hello. I didn’t have time for small talk right now. Whoever it was, it wasn’t as important as what I had going on here.
“Hey man, don’t forget the dinner next Sunday,” Luke said easily, ignoring my tone. He was used to my mood swings—twelve years of friendship had made him immune to them.
“Yeah, I haven’t,” I replied, sitting back in my chair. I rubbed my neck, trying to crease out the knots of tension this project was causing me. If this deal didn’t go through, who knows what my father would do. Spending all of last week out every night probably hadn’t been the best move on my part, especially since most of those nights were featured in various gossip columns, all managing to include at least a picture or two of me looking very intoxicated.
My favorite picture was of me sitting at a table with my hand clearly up some blonde’s skirt, while my other hand occupied a very full glass of scotch. My memories of that night were more than a little hazy, but according to the newspaper I’d had a pretty good time.
My father had been furious, which had in turn had made me furious. What fucking business of his was it how I spent my time off? I was more than capable of getting the job done and enjoying my life, no matter what my father implied. This current five-billion-dollar Delenski deal would ensure our company had a hand in one of the biggest casino developments in the entire United Kingdom. There was no option for missing out on this deal, and I had it covered.
“Sure, I said I’ll be there, man.” I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice. Did I need reminding every single day? It was a damn dinner, not his fucking wedding.
“Okay, we’ll see next Sunday then,” he replied, again shaking off my tone. I hung up the phone and buried my face in my hands.
It wasn’t Luke, or even work that was getting to me—it was her. The mystery girl who had accepted a lift home from me two nights ago and shared a cigarette with me. The girl who, no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t shake from my mind.
“Roast beef or chicken?”
I looked up to see Carly holding two sandwiches. “Beef,” I answered. She threw the package at me and smiled, sitting down opposite me.
“Do you mind if I eat with you?” she crossed her long tanned legs, her skirt riding up to her mid-thigh. Paired with her cream silk shirt that was unbuttoned at the top, giving me a glimpse of her full breasts, the sight of her was enough to arouse me. Maybe I needed a little relaxing.
“Sure,” I murmured, unwrapping my sandwich. “If you don’t have plans, I could use some help here tonight,” I added. The sparkle in her eye left me wondering if she was thinking back to the last time she had ‘worked late’ alone with me. I sure as fuck was.
“I can help,” she agreed, a hint of a smile playing on her full, glossy lips. My hard-on pressed against the constraint of my pants as I watched her devour that sandwich. Every now and then her eyes would meet mine, her expression full of suggestion and promise. That was what I loved about Carly: no mixed signals. Everything was as clear as fuck.
It was surprising how often you could misread someone’s actions when you were the boss. More importantly, it was surprising how much trouble that kind of shit could get you into. I was sure some women applied to work for me knowing they could make some easy money through a sexual harassment settlement. I wasn’t one to let minor issues like balance of power and women’s rights get in the way of what I wanted
.
Carly picked up the phone as it rang again, allowing me to enjoy the rest of my sandwich.
“Falcon Property Development,” she said, smirking at me. Her eyes grew wide. “Oh certainly, Mr. Falcon. He is right here,” she purred. I rolled my eyes as I took the phone off her. The only person that people found more intimidating than myself, was my father. Carly included. I didn’t doubt for a second she’d fuck him, too, for a raise.
“Eric,” I said, stretching back on my chair, watching Carly as she left the room, or—more to the point—watching her ass leave the room. “What can I do for you?” My father only ever called when he wanted something, and it pissed him off when I called him by his name.
“Mr. Delenski is flying in next month. I need you to entertain his daughter.” The no nonsense tone in my father’s voice told me it wasn’t a question. Still, I couldn’t resist toying with him.
“Entertain his daughter?” I repeated, amused. “Whatever do you mean? I am much too busy to be out socializing, Father. I’m a hardworking man.” My words echoed his own from days earlier.
“Drop the act, Jack. Just make sure she enjoys her time in London. A happy Lisbeth Delenski will mean this deal will go much more smoothly, and I know you want that as much as I,” he sighed.