The lobby turned cold as I broke away from his mother's mesmerizing
eyes. Richard Mason limped back to his wife.
My heart caved inwards as Smith urged me to take our designated
seats. What had happened to that kind, old man? Why was his
companion so concealed and aloof? The difference between them
was like day and dusk.
I shook off thoughts of the old couple. I was here for Smith, not
them. It wasn't my problem, and I resolved to leave it alone. Whatever
issue mother and son were going through, it wasn't something for me
to meddle with and get involved. I closed my eyes, trying my best to
set it aside.
Smith squeezed my hand. "Be right back," he announced before
strutting away to meet some friends. They all spoke with ease, even
though I could still see they looked at him as their superior. Did he
have any real friends he could kick back with and be himself? He
always carried an air of poise. Had anybody seen the real him? Ever?
I recalled his tickling attack upstairs and fought the urge to break
into a giggle again. Tingling pleasure flooded my body. Underneath all
that power and clout was a big teddy bear waiting to be adored. I
gasped at my own thoughts and crossed my legs.
"I'm sorry that took a while," Smith apologized after he came back
to our table.
I hadn't even realized he had taken long. I pushed the arousal
away and focused on his words. "Uh...no, it's fine," I stammered. "Just
admiring the view."
He glanced around. "Which view?"
Heat spread across my face. The bad girl in me rivaled the good. I
yanked my eyes from tracing his muscular curvature and forbade my
mouth from its daring flirting. My pores opened to the sudden prodding
of sweat. I swallowed and clamped my mouth shut.
A faint smile appeared on his lips. "Okay," he whispered, studying
my eyes. He glanced toward the stage, loosening his tie. "Can you
save my seat? I'm first up."
The night was about to begin. Saving the billionaire's seat gave me
a brief chuckle. Who would steal it? "I'll be waiting. Good luck," I
offered.
He didn't need it. The audience roared at his first jokes and sat
perched on the brims of their seats for more of anything and
everything the man had to say. He exuded confidence. He was funny,
full of wit, and sharp as a nail as he rattled off a list of his software
company's latest achievements. He caught my eye, then hesitated for
a moment and stammered.
Oh no. What did I do? I was there to support him, not hinder him. I
nodded my head and fluttered my lips into a smile.
He blinked and looked away, suddenly picking up the trail of his
last words. He finished his speech as the audience exploded into
applaud.
I clapped as if I had been fully listening. I prayed my face wasn't
shiny from the sweat I'd gathered along the edges of my forehead. I
had no clue what the speech was about, but was ready to bluff it in
case he asked.
"That was a great speech," I told him as soon as he took his seat.
He glared at me and flared his nostrils, his chest rising and falling.
"Thank you."
We fell into an awkward silence as another man came to the stage
and began talking into the microphone.
Was Smith thinking about his stutter during the speech? From the
way the crowd gave him a standing ovation, I'd say it was a slam-
dunk.
The Knight Drones came on the stage to play. I'd heard one or two
songs on the radio, but Lily was going to flip that she'd given up this
date. "My best friend loves this band."
He stood up and held out his hand as the band eased into a slow
song. "Well, you'll have to brag about how you danced all night to
them."
I didn't hesitate as I gave him my hand. If a client wanted to dance,
it was my job to be a willing partner. I was no prima ballerina, but I
could hold a beat. The image of our bodies aligning in rhythmic
movement brought a shiver to my arms before he ever touched me.
He led me to the dance floor and wrapped his arms around me. His
hand glued itself to my waist and was now dangerously close to my
hips. He captured my right hand in his.
Butterflies fluttered through my belly as a growing warm sensation
took over my chest. I pressed my hand into his left shoulder blade. I
ignored the way his hand moved to my hip and then on top of my ass.
I fought the urge to squirm against him and then erupted into nervous
chatter. "You were amazing back there. You really had the crowd
going," I enthused.
His muscles stiffened as he pierced my eyes. "You know what you
did to me," he growled, his breath tickling the shell of my ear.
I tried to suppress the shudder that overtook my spine as
streaming arousal flooded my body. He was so close and I couldn't
help but feel his strong, masculine body. A whimper escaped my
breath as my eager breasts brushed against his chest. My stinging
nipples pebbled beneath the thin cups of my bra, and I prayed they
couldn't be seen through my sheer pink shirt. I pretended to not know
what he was talking about. "What do you mean?"
Before he could respond, the song quickened and became louder
as the singer wailed into the microphone.
To my surprise, I found myself being twirled. He braced me, then
pressed his body against mine.
A smug look arose on his hard and handsome face as his lips
quirked at the corners. A hint of amusement hid in the depths of those
blue eyes. It was as if he knew I would be affected by the physical
touch of our bodies. I desperately tried to ignore the transparent
chemical attraction between us. But the more I tried to ignore it, the
stronger it grew. It had spread and burned so deep, I was afraid to get
scorched. I couldn't afford to take a chance on lustful attraction.
Especially not with a man who every woman wanted. He'd be in and
out of my hands within days. I must have had a frown on my face
because Smith looked concerned.
He paused from dancing as a crease formed between his eyes.
"What's wrong, Livia?"
I swallowed, fearing that if I spoke my voice would be thick with
emotion. I needed to put on my business hat and cool it. How could I
afford to fantasize about him? I needed to complete my job and
continue with my life goals.
"Nothing," I peeped as I continued moving my feet to the beat of
the drums.
Dominance was written all over his marble jawline, and his
possessiveness emanated from his moist lips as they parted. "Good."
Few words needed to be spoken between us. He twirled me a few
times before settling back to a slow rhythm again. A bulge pressed
against my belly as he lowered his head.
His breaths caused my arms to shiver.
He laid flat palms against my butt and shook as he exhaled.
"You're so fucking intoxicating."
I shut down all reason and danced to his vibe. For a moment, it
was as if it were just he and I. His guard was down and he looked at
ease, as though his mind was diffusing of all the stress of greeting and
presenting.
The electricity of his body transferred to my own. In that intense
moment, nothing else mattered.
As soon as the last note of the song stopped, I excused myself and
headed to the ladies' bathroom. My breathing hitched as I shut myself
into a cubicle, and tried to compose myself.
I buried my face into my palms and inhaled two deep breaths to
stop myself from shaking. It was a mess. Smith was confusing and
dangerous and I hated the way he made me so damn needy. I
couldn't let myself get involved with someone like him. It wasn't
because his mother gave me the creeps, or that our families were
completely different. It was the way he made me feel. My body was
losing control, and it scared me beyond belief.
Besides that, we were opposites. Like oil and vinegar. Sure, you
could shake the hell out of the bottle, but after a while the two liquids
would separate again and you were back at the beginning.
I couldn't let this sexual fascination go on anymore. Someone
needed to put a stop to this—and that person was me. After pulling
myself together, I stood up and dabbed sweat from my forehead. A
couple of women patted their make-up when I walked out of the
cubicle. I avoided eye contact, but that didn't stop me from hearing the
hissing whispers.
Smith stood and pulled my chair out as I marched back to the
table. Fancy plates of filet minion and lobster sat on each placemat.
Starved, I picked up my utensils and dug in. The food was amazing,
and I found myself forgetting about Smith and his seductive
endeavors. My love affair with the food had begun and I must've been
moaning because I eventually noticed his gaping mouth.
I set down my fork as a flush spread across my chest. "Sorry. The
food is so good," I apologized, already picking up the silverware again.
He smiled with one corner of his mouth. "Go right ahead. I love
watching you eat."
I gave a polite smile and found my appetite disappearing, but I dug
in once more and ate until I was full anyway.
He licked his lips before they spread into a smile. He looked like a
predator about to pounce on prey any minute without warning.
"Did you enjoy the food?" I asked, trying to divert attention from
myself.
He nodded. "I did. However, most of my enjoyment came from
watching you mow down."
A tingling arousal awakened my pelvis. Most guys would have
thought it disgusting that I'd eaten to full capacity. Filet mignon was an
unaffordable luxury in my book.
Money was just as scarce, since my father was sick and his
medications were expensive. My entire monthly salary went toward
rent, utilities, and his care. I earned more than most girls my age and it
still wasn't enough. "I've grown to appreciate food, especially when it's
this delicious."
"Not many people finish their food these days." Smith commented,
retreating into a distant look as if he too had archived food memories
of his own.
I held back a scoff. If only he knew how it was to grow up poor.
With nothing to eat every day, it had driven my parents to the brink of
insanity. The tipping point was the cancer.