She puts an elbow on the table and rests her cheek on her hand. "Truth or dare?"
"Dare." It's impossible not to laugh at her comical expression. I curtailed her plans.
"You can't do that!"
"Do what?"
"Pick dare."
"I most certainly can."
Her head tilts back, and I can only imagine what she's thinking. A chuckle escapes.
"You're a jerk," she says.
"So I've been told."
"Okay, then. I dare you to tell me why you loathe the man you've become." She gloats at the clever way she's twisted the game. And stupid me should've figured out she'd come up with something like this. Vivi was always brilliant.
"Loathe is extreme. Let's say I'm not particularly fond of who I am right now."
"Fine. Go on."
Now I'm the one who's squirming. Where do I even begin? Vivi is almost a stranger to me. There's no way I can bare my pathetic soul to her.
"I have daddy issues."
"Really?" Her question is one of disbelief and she appears to be holding back a laugh.
"Hard to believe, isn't it?"
"Um, yeah. Prescott Beckham, the guy with the world at his fingertips, has daddy issues? I think not. I Googled you after I ran into you that day. From all accounts I read there were no daddy issues to be found. Nada. Try again."
"I have a team that keeps my secrets out of the media. You wouldn't find anything on me. But it's true. I grew up without a mom and my father was not much of one. So, there you have it." I give her one of my best smirks. It usually does the trick on most women.
She leans back and tucks her chin closer to her body. "That's it? And I'm supposed to buy that?"
"That's all I have for sale, Little Wolf. Sorry."
"You're not a very fair player."
"My turn."
"Nope. I'm done." She drinks another swig of her beer.
"No, you aren't. I'm picking for you. Truth. How many men have you fucked, Vivi? And what exactly have they done to you?"
She shoves her arms into her coat and pushes at me to get out of the booth. But I have zero intentions of going anywhere. "Let me out, Prescott."
"Not until you answer me."
"That's none of your business. How many women have you been with?"
"Too many to count."
Her jaw flops open and I close her mouth with a finger under her chin.
"You asked, Little Wolf."
"Don't call me that."
"How many, Vivi? Tell me and I'll let you go."
"Why do you want to know?"
She's so delicious sitting here, her mouth only inches from mine, it's all I can do not to lean forward and close the distance between us. I want to feel those plump lips against me, wrapped around my cock as I push deep into her throat. I ache to hear her moan as I tongue her tight little pussy. I want to bind her in silk and fuck her until she begs me to stop. I know Vivi is inexperienced as shit-I can sense it-and I want to introduce her to sex, to raw, lusty, satisfying sex.
"So I know exactly how far I can take you."
"How far you can take me … with what?"
"How many, Vivi?"
"Two. Now let me out."
"Only if you promise to go out with me."
"Fuck you, Prescott."
"That's precisely the idea." Before she can think of anything else to say, I grab her chin in a firm grip and kiss her. At first, she kisses like a block of ice. Then she warms up, melts, and leans into me as she fists the sides of my jacket. There's a whole lot more to Vivi Renard than she wants to admit and I plan to find out what lies beneath the surface.
When I set her free, her chest rises and falls with exertion. "I dare you to tell me you're not wet. I dare you to tell me that tight little pussy of yours wouldn't love for my cock to slide inside it right now. And I would go so far as to say that when you get home, your fingers will be doing that very thing, won't they, Vivi?" I pause a moment to savor her shocked expression. "I was right about you, Little Wolf. You live up to your name I gave you. Except you're not hungry for food. You're starving for something much wilder, much more wicked than that."
Standing, I allow her to get out of the booth. She's trembling as she stands. "Vivi?"
"W-what?" she stutters.
"This time I'll expect a call from you. Tomorrow to be exact."
Her head bobs as she hurries out of the bar. When she's gone, I call the head of security at Whitworth Enterprises.
"Jack, I need to get an address on Vivienne Renard." I let him know she lives somewhere in Brooklyn and where she works. I also give him her mobile number. I'm confident I'll have her address in a day or so.
I call the waitress over for the tab so I can get the fuck out of this place. My dick is so damn hard that if I don't bust a nut soon, I'm going to go crazy. Rubbing one off to the fantasy of Vivi blowing me is going to have to tide me over until I get the real thing. I hope she doesn't keep me waiting too damn long.
The next morning, when I arrive at work, Lynn inspects me. Then she follows me into my office.
"You look good this morning," she says.
"Thank you. So do you."
"No. I mean, you look really good. No bender last night?"
I inwardly laugh at the term bender. "I don't overindulge every night, Lynn."
"You have lately."
"I promised I'd do better and I am."
"Thank you. And I'm happy to say you don't need to brush your teeth."
She doesn't wait for a smartass reply before she leaves. I avoid mentioning to her that I smoked enough weed to get all of SoHo stoned out of their minds last night.
My ass barely hits the seat when the phone buzzes.
"Mr. Beckham, Jack from security is on the line."
Hmm. That was quick. "Thanks, Lynn."
I click over to Jack and he gives me Vivi's address. He also tells me it's in the Bushwick area of Brooklyn, where the crime rate is extremely high. After thanking him, I wonder why the hell she chose to live there.
My phone buzzes again and Lynn tells me Harrison is on the line.
"Dude, what's up?"
"Don't you ever answer your own phone?" he asks.
"Not here. Why don't you ever call my cell?"
"I do. You never answer."
I check my phone and there aren't any missed calls from him, so I relay that bit of news.
"I called you a couple of minutes ago."
"Check the damn number you called. It's not showing up on here."
We get that issue sorted out-he had the wrong number under his contacts for me-and then he tells me he's in town. "Got in early this morning."
"Why don't you stay with me?"
"I don't want to bother you. Besides, I have some of my staff with me. We're at The Plaza for a few days."
I push my chair back to put my feet on my desk. "Who fucked up this time?"
"Midnight Drake. I had to get out here and clean up a mess."
"What happened to her? Men? Women? Or both?"
"Both and drugs."
"Ouch." Harrison's a fixer for Hollywood's finest. He makes the worst look their best.
"Yeah, she's going to make a statement tomorrow about how she has an addiction issue and will be entering rehab for an undetermined length of time. I'll be tied up with her agent and producer. She just signed a fucking contract for a multimillion-dollar movie deal. I swear this has been a shit show."
The doodles on the paper get darker and darker as I replicate the circles I draw. "So what exactly happened?"
"She was caught in bed with one other woman and two men. There was bondage, lots of … gadgets shall we say. You know, whips, gags, floggers, toys, that sort of thing."
"Sounds like she had her kink on."
"Oh, her kink was strapped on all right. That along with some heroin."
"She's fucked, man."
"No, she was simul-fucked. Heartily. Straight in the ass and pussy. And she was fucked up. Bad thing was she woke up and didn't remember a thing. Says she was drugged and raped. It's a damn mess. You should've seen the pics and videos. Anyway, I'm here to pick up the pieces and reassemble, as usual."
And that's what Harrison does best. I don't know how, but I swear the man could cover up a murder if he tried.
"Did you say video?" I ask.
"Uh, three to be exact. And the shit hit the net. Already got it pulled, though."
"So, dinner tonight?"
"Sure thing. What time?" he asks.
"You tell me. You've got the mess on your grubby paws to straighten up."
"Seven. And let's go to that place you took me to last time-you know, the one the TV chef owns."
"I'll make some calls and see what I can do. Expect a text with a confirmation. And make sure you change my goddamn number in your contacts, you moron."
He's still laughing when he hangs up. Out of the three of us, Harrison was the most put together at Crestview. Weston and I came from fucked up families, whereas Harrison had a decent home life. His dad is the best. Weston and I envied the fuck out of him. I still do. Maybe that's why he's always trying to put people's lives back together and is the damn best at it.