“You are exquisite.”
And before she could marvel at his simple yet eloquent compliment, a discreet knock at the door made her heart stop. They’d been caught!
But Sutton merely smiled and opened the door, revealing a rather nervous looking host.
“Ahem, Mr. Buchanan...this is a single occupancy restroom,” he said, his gaze flitting to Elizabeth with uncomfortable knowing.
Sutton just grinned and stunned the man by stuffing a wad of cash into his lapel pocket. “And a lovely restroom it is.” Then, grabbing Elizabeth’s hand, they left the host behind without a further glance.
That’s what money did for you, Elizabeth thought with an embarrassed smile; it erased boundaries.
Was that a good thing?
Her body still sang with pleasure, every muscle and bone all melt-y and soft. She’d be a total hypocrite if she poked at Sutton at this very moment.
So she didn’t.
Instead, she took her seat across from him with a demure smile, as if she hadn’t just been fucked in the restroom; as if his seed wasn’t still coating her insides.
Because she’d be a liar and a hypocrite if she didn’t admit that a part of her loved breaking the rules and that the look of total possession in Sutton’s eyes made her feel gloriously desired — and those two things...were intoxicating.
Was this what happened when you sold your soul to the devil?
A slow, pleasurable slide into oblivion?
At the end of this insane ride, what would be left of the original Elizabeth?
A warning tingle at the back of her brain told her it was best to leave certain questions unanswered for now.
And so that’s what she did.
Because she was starving and Sutton had ordered pasta — and sometimes a girl just had to enjoy what was put in front of her.
Whether it was epic sex with an enigmatic man or a giant plate of steaming fettuccine with creamy alfredo and freshly shaved parmesan.
***
Sutton walked into the board room with an extra spring in his step and he didn’t care who noticed, which in hindsight, was probably foolish.
The Buchanans were ruthless with information, often ferreting away tidbits until it became of use to them and that didn’t exclude family.
“Well, someone’s having a good day,” Reece observed, causing the rest to stop their conversations and glance at him. “Care to share what’s put that shit-eating grin on your smug face?”
“I don’t kiss and tell,” he told his little brother, to which Reece just laughed.
“Since when?”
“Since now.”
At that Reece’s brow went up. “Intrigued. Tell me something interesting to liven up this boring corporate shit.”
Vince piped in with a wry, “You’re welcome to leave, little cousin, but the spoils of war go to the soldiers in the fight.”
Reece sent Vince an annoyed acknowledgment.
The west coast and east coast cousins had the unenviable challenge of working together to manage the massive holdings organized under the Buchanan Enterprises umbrella.
And they didn’t always see eye-to-eye on those decisions.
Particularly those who wanted to do the least amount of work, such as Reece.
“Why does there have to be war at all?” Reece shot back with a lazy shrug. “I swear you become more and more like our fathers every day. It’s all work and no fun whatsoever. What happened to the days of total debauchery. We used to be kings; now we’re nothing more than neutered dogs.”
“Careful,” Dillon warned but Reece was hardly one to take a hint.
“What? Truth hurt, cousin? Marriage, kids, the incessant need for moral fortitude...it’s enough to make me want to vomit.” He looked to Sutton for back up. “Am I right? You were just saying the other day that the decision to unload Malvagio was steeped in moral backwash.”
“It’s my fucking club and if I want to sell, I can sell it,” Vince growled, his grip tightening on his pen.
If Reece wasn’t careful he was going to end up with a Mont Blanc accessory right in the middle of his forehead.
“Of course it’s your club,” Sutton said smoothly, shooting his little brother a look. “But if you took a step back and looked at your decision objectively, you’d realize that perhaps you’re being a little...hasty. Are we not in the business of making money? You’ve tapped an otherwise untouched market and we’re reaping the benefits ten-fold. If you hadn’t wanted Buchanan Enterprises involved, then you shouldn’t have folded into the books, even if it’s under a false identity.”
Vince and Nolan — twins who, in Sutton’s opinion, had always shared one brain — took exception to Sutton’s comment but it was Nolan that took point, not surprisingly as he was also co-owner.
“Your opinion is duly noted. The fact is the club belongs to me and Vince and we’ve tired of the responsibility.” Nolan’s tightened jaw belied the calm statement. Ah, cousin, your poker face is much to be desired.
“Which is why I offered to take it off your hands,” Sutton countered smoothly. “If that’s your sole reason, I see no obstacle in keeping the club and reaping the rewards.”
Nolan glared. “I am not interested in selling to a family member.”
“No? Why?” But Sutton already knew the answer. “Wait, let me fill in the blanks...it’s because the wifey has issues with your dirty little sex club and you’d do anything to get between those thighs. My guess is that the missus quite objects to the sordid business operating right beneath her precious nose. No judgment, cousins, truly. A good pussy is a treasure but really, this is business and frankly, I’m appalled that your judgment has been so compromised by the fact that your wife owns your fucking balls!”
Ironic that Reece had stirred the pot but it was Sutton who’d left the meeting with a black eye and busted lip.
But to be fair, Vince and Nolan had jumped him — like he said, one brain — and he’d at least gotten in a few good hits before Dillon and Reece had jumped in to pull them apart.
Fucking twats, he spat residual blood from his mouth. He missed the good ol’ days of epic orgies, drunken weekends, and shaky, relieved laughter after narrowly missed STD scares.
Okay, that part he didn’t miss, but the rest, sure.
After that unfortunate incident in the boardroom, Sutton had told the cousins to go fuck themselves and he was taking the day off.
But he didn’t go straight to the apartment. He needed some time to cool off. Besides, a part of him was a little embarrassed that his cousins had gotten the jump on him like that.
Sutton found himself at a small dive bar and walked into the dimly lit, stale-smelling place wondering if broken dreams and wounded dignity were on the house drink list.
He ordered a scotch and found himself immediately joined by a woman who was plainly a prostitute.
“Buy a lady a drink?” she purred, her breath sour and smelling as if she’d brushed her teeth with vodka.
Sutton cast her a quick glance — probably in her late twenties but hard living had etched the years on her face.
Her body was nice enough though — and signaled the bartender.
“Whatever the lady is having,” he said, lifting his glass in a mocking toast.
“Vodka rocks,” she answered with a happy smile before returning to Sutton. “So...what happened to your face? Someone catch you with their wife?”
He chuckled. “What makes you think that?”
She assessed him boldly. “You’re good looking with money to burn. My guess is that you don’t get told no very often but sometimes you can’t always get what you want.”
He downed his drink and signaled for another. “Not bad. But you’re off-base with the cheating wife angle. This,” he gestured to his busted face “was a family thing. Cousins with a flash temper.”
“Family reunion s must be a gauntlet,” she said, her smile revealing a few crooked teeth but otherwise a decent mouth. “So what’s your name?”
“Sutton. And yours?”
“Gemini.”
He chuckled. “Your stage name?”
She gave him a sidewise glance. “Something like that.”
What was he doing chatting it up with an obvious working girl like Gemini when he had Elizabeth waiting for him at his apartment?
Because he could.
Wasn’t this exactly what’d happened to his cousins? The very thing that’d softened them to old men before their time?
They’d been effectively neutered by the females in their lives.
And that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen to him.
He turned to the woman.
“So what’s on the table, Gemini?”
Gemini, the wily bitch, sensed a big payday and purred, “For a handsome guy like you? Anything you want, baby.”
“Anything?”
“Sure.”
“And if I want to shove my dick up your ass?” he asked casually, enjoying the sordid conversation.
There was something enjoyably taboo about fucking with a dirty girl.
“I love it in the ass,” Gemini answered with a giggle that made her look a lot less hard and used up. “Will you be gentle?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Good. I like it rough.”
“And where would this exchange happen?” he asked, curious.
“I have a room above the bar. Vinny lets me stay and do my thing if I give him a cut.”