When I saw the guy who had opened the door, my first impression was Suit and tie – way EXPENSIVE suit and tie.My second impression was Huh, Asian guy.My third impression was Holy CRAP, he’s got a GUN!It was just a glimpse, but I saw the holster under the Armani jacket, and the flash of grey metal. Then the jacket resettled and the gun was gone.I froze on the seat, terrified.I don’t like guns.I’m especially not fond of strange men with guns.He looked down at me and extended his arm to help me out of the limo. He was young and handsome, probably Japanese, late 20’s, with longish hair that covered his ears and a neatly trimmed goatee with mustache.When I didn’t take his hand, he smiled and looked over the roof of the car. “I think the lady’s scared of me, boss,” he said in a flat, midwestern accent.“And well she should be. You’re a very scary person,” Connor agreed. He sounded like he was already outside the car.“That’s what you pay me for,” the man laughed.I glanced over – Co
The lobby was magnificent. Opulent. Luxurious. Take your pick of over-the-top adjectives.The floor was white marble inlaid with darker patterns of black – maybe obsidian? I had no idea. But the effect was beautiful.The chandeliers were round, massive bodies made up of tiny frosted glass cylinders that diffused the light and transformed what could have been cold and imposing into warm and sensual. They looked like grape clusters of long, glass tubes, if that makes any sense. Or a collection of glass Pan pipes (you know, what the little faun guy plays in Greek paintings?) with light spilling out of them, rather than sound.Throughout the lobby were plush leather chairs arranged in small enclaves around short mahogany tables. Here and there a few people waited, texting on their smart phones or reading their iPads. Others held cocktails and glasses of wine as they chatted and laughed. On all sides were gorgeous arrangements of orchids and exotic plants – real ones. Nothing fake in here
The inside of the penthouse was entirely different from the hotel, but no less amazing. Maybe even more.The first thing that hit me was all the glass. As in, almost every wall had at least one gigantic window that was at least thirty feet long. The city lights sparkled outside like diamonds on black velvet. I walked over and gazed down at Sunset Boulevard. Two hundred feet below, club-goers marched along the sidewalks like little columns of ants, and the jam-packed traffic moved along an inch at a time.On the opposite side of the massive apartment, I could see the Hollywood Hills. In case you haven’t been to LA, just north of Hollywood is a very, very small mountain range that extends for about four or five miles. And on its slopes are some of the most expensive homes in Los Angeles outside of Beverly Hills and Bel Air. A lot of young, hip actors and directors and producers live up there – along with real estate moguls and doctors trying to be young and hip. Plus the occasional drug
When I came out of the bedroom, I surveyed the rest of the penthouse: plush leather sectional couches. A widescreen TV bigger (and thinner) than I’d ever seen before. A magnificent dining table. And most surprising of all, a pool of water in the floor that glowed sapphire blue.That’s when I realized that the pool – about ten feet square – extended under the glass walls to the outside, where it joined a much larger swimming pool on a private patio. Sumptuous outdoor chairs and more potted jungle plants ringed the glowing blue water. I could start in here, swim under the glass wall, and end up outside with a few strokes.Johnny saw me looking at the pool. “Yeah, I’m not too fond of that,” he said to Connor.Connor was over by the sofa taking off his tie and jacket. I had a lovely little flashback to less than an hour ago as he shrugged off his clothes. “Relax, there’s a gate,” he told Johnny.I looked closer. Sure enough, a sturdy metal gate extended from the bottom of the tiled pool
We ate mostly in silence. At first.To tell the truth, I was incredibly self-conscious. I didn’t want to look like a pig, so I took tiny, ladylike bites.Also, I was obsessing over my table manners. I’m a fried chicken, lick-my-fingers kind of girl. I didn’t eat out in fancy restaurants growing up, so I was a little worried about whether I was using the right fork and whatnot. My fears were justifiable, seeing as the food was fancier and more extravagant than anything I’d tasted in years – maybe ever.Plus there was that whole ‘I just slept with this guy and he probably does this with every hot woman he meets’ voice muttering louder and louder in my head.Which made me feel even worse, because I am so not hot. Eventually I began wondering why he had even bothered with me.He sat back and took a sip of wine. “You look absolutely miserable.”I looked up at him in surprise. “What? No. I’m fine.”“Really.” His tone indicated he didn’t believe me.“Yes, really,” I said testily.“What’s go
As it turned out, he had to call down to the concierge for a pack of cards.“And another bottle of wine. And another table, with a selection of fruit and chocolate,” he said into the phone before hanging up. My mouth started to water. I had only eaten about half my dinner – not only had the conversation gotten distracting, but I was a little worried about pigging out and then having to strip down naked.But offer me chocolate, and all bets are off.Connor looked me over appraisingly. “Thinking of your questions? Or thinking about what I’ve got in store for you?”Yes. And yes.Damn it, I hate how he can tell what I’m thinking – especially when I don’t want him to know.“No, I’m cataloguing how many pieces of clothing I’ve got on,” I lied.Hey, nobody said anything about lying outside of the game.He chuckled. “Well, most of the clothes will come off before I begin to have my way with you, so…”Have my way with you.I crossed my legs again, both from nervousness and being uncomfortably
As it turned out, I won the next hand, too. Three jacks.“Damn it,” he swore, throwing down his cards.“You know what that means,” I said.“Clothing, right?” he asked in a fake hopeful voice.I shook my head ‘no.’He breathed out heavily, then smirked. “Well, I guess I used up all my luck earlier tonight when I got lucky.”When I got lucky.Holy crap.That was something I would say about sleeping with him… not something I would expect him to say about sleeping with me.The butterflies were twirling up a storm in my stomach, but I kept to the plan.“You don’t work for LMGK, do you?”LMGK was an international consulting firm with worldwide branches – and whom Connor had claimed he worked for. They were supposedly interested in buying out the much smaller company I worked for, Exerton Consulting.“No, I don’t.”My insides twisted. Though I felt like I had known all along – I mean, what VP has a private Bentley limo, a bodyguard, and rents penthouse suites at a moment’s notice in the most
And I did. He even tried to bluff me – or maybe he thought he could win. But my three queens beat his two pair.“Damn it, I wanted to see more,” he growled, staring at my breasts again.“There’ll be time.”“So… two pieces of clothing?” he asked, both hopeful and mocking at once.I considered. “One question, one piece of clothing.”“Which one first?” he asked with a seductive little smile.“The question.”“Go for it.”I knew I shouldn’t ask it… I knew I was asking for trouble, for heartache, for a swift kick to the gut……but I had to know. And it was going to keep on driving me crazy if I didn’t ask.“How many women have you slept with?”He stared at me, sphinx-like, and didn’t answer for a second. When he did, his face was a blank slate, and his voice was carefully controlled. “Are you sure you want to ask that?”“Yes,” I said in a quavering voice, when the truth was actually No. I wasn’t sure at all.He shook his head. “I don’t think you do.”“Just tell me.”“The truth?”When he sai