A Beautiful Distraction(4)
Amber’s smile widened and he watched as her shy, nervous persona shifted. Her lids lowered slightly, her brows arched, and her shoulders straightened. He liked this game.
• • •
Knock-knock.
Setting the stack of papers back down on her desk, Fallon uncrossed her legs and swiveled her plush office chair around to face the door. The chrome clock on the wall read three in the morning and it was as if the visual time triggered her internal clock, making her yawn with exhaustion. Sleep was something Fallon got little of, and she welcomed the ache of fatigue like an old friend. Sleep meant dreaming, and the dreams that seemed to follow Fallon around weren’t filled with fluffy bunnies and cotton candy the way they had been when she was a child.
“Come in,” she hollered.
The heavy metal door pushed open and a dark head of hair popped into her office. Jade’s short brown hair waved around her face, and her round, blue eyes were lined black on her top lid and ringed with long, dark lashes. She was stunning. A subtle, innocent beauty. But she only looked innocent. That was the thing that was most appealing about Jade: her innocence was alluring, but her experience was enthralling.
“Hey. I’m heading up. Everything’s locked up and George is getting ready to head out. He wanted me to see if you were ready for him to walk you to your car?” she asked.
Fallon stretched her arms out in front of her as another yawn filled her lungs and escaped in a long sigh. “No, tell him I’m gonna crash here tonight.”
Jade eyed the crushed-velvet vintage sofa that was pressed against the back wall of the office. Fallon could see the protest on her face before her mouth even opened to speak. “Fallon, this makes the third night this week you’ve stayed here. Get your ass home and crawl in an actual bed.”
Fallon loved her house. She’d bought it three years ago, the first home she had ever purchased. And it was magnificent. Large and spacious, with an open kitchen and a wraparound porch. It was her sanctuary. But some nights, the small confines of her office comforted her more than the familiarity of her own bed.
Her office wasn’t a typical office to begin with. It could easily classify as a loft apartment for most. It had a sitting area carved out in a little nook in the back wall of the room. She had a full bathroom with a vintage bronze pedestal sink, complete with a deep claw-foot tub. A vanity sat opposite her desk, in deep mahogany wood.
There was a small round table the height of a bar that sat in the back corner with two barstools, and next to it was a mini fridge and a fully stocked built-in floor-to-ceiling wine rack. Since Fallon rarely ever drank, the wine went virtually untouched.
She had everything she could need right here in this one room, and the simplicity of that was hard to resist. That, along with the ability to drown herself in busywork.
“I have to go over a few inventory shipments and look through some things for my accountant and then I’m going to make myself comfortable on the couch and pass the hell out.”
Jade rolled her eyes and made sure to overdramatize the heavy sigh that released from her chest. “Fine. I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” she offered.
Fallon not only owned Velour, she owned the entire building, and when Jade had nowhere else to go, Fallon insisted she move into the loft apartment above the office. She’d been living there for almost two years now. Lord knew nowadays Jade could afford any swanky condo she could get her paws on. But Fallon had grown accustomed to having Jade so close, and she was pretty sure Jade felt the same way. It was especially nice to have her around on nights like tonight when she had a mound of disorganized paperwork on her desk to shuffle through. Jade was always willing to take her place and help George close up. Maybe she would drive to that little boutique downtown tomorrow and buy her that new Gucci handbag Jade had her eye on.
Fallon smiled. “I know. Thanks.”
Jade flattened her palm against the door and gave it a few pats. “Get some sleep, princess. Tomorrow night is going to be packed.”
“Friday nights are always packed.”
“Yes, but tomorrow night our VIP will be full of those dirty little politicians. I hate when they come.”
Fallon groaned at the realization and leaned back in her chair. “Shit. You’re right.”
Every other month a handful of the state’s top dogs would show their faces and sleaze up her VIP with their holier-than-thou attitudes and their overflowing wallets. It wasn’t uncommon to find a few “headliners,” as they liked to call them—athletes, politicians, the occasional celebrity—on any given weekend. Fallon’s club was the most exclusive, luxurious club in Denver. Its reputation spanned far and wide across the States and she had even hosted a few elite private parties—for the right people and the right dollar amount, of course.