Serving the Billionaire(13)

She giggled and joined him on the sofa, leaning close and pushing her breasts against his arm. “You just need a drink, Mr. Hackett. That’ll make it all okay.”

He slid one arm around her waist and held her close. “I think I might need more than just a drink.”

I watched, a little appalled but not surprised, as Mr. Hackett teased apart the silky bow holding Sassy’s negligee closed and cupped his hand over one of her exposed breasts. She let out a breathy moan and pressed closer against him.

I’d told Mr. Sutton that I wasn’t a prude, but I was. It was my most embarrassing secret, the one that even Sadie didn’t know: I was twenty-four, and I was still a virgin.

There wasn’t any particular reason for it. I’d had a few chances here and there, drunk friends of friends at parties who got a little too friendly, but I’d never met anyone I really wanted to have sex with. I’d watched enough porn to know how sex worked, but there was still something vaguely scandalous about watching Sassy get groped right in front of me: the way her nipples hardened as Mr. Hackett squeezed her round breasts, and the way her legs parted as Mr. Hackett’s hands slid down between her thighs.

I was pretty sure I wanted to have sex with Mr. Sutton.

I’d sure been thinking about it enough.

I wondered if he would touch me like that, with his big fingers rubbing against the tiny scrap of satin between my legs. And if I would arch my back like that and push up against him.

The door opened beside me, and I tore my gaze away from the scene on the sofa. Two more men had entered the room: more white guys in suits. They greeted Mr. Sutton and sat down. One of them sat beside Sassy and Mr. Hackett, and started playing with Sassy’s nipples while Mr. Hackett’s fingers worked between her legs.

The other man motioned to Scarlet, who sashayed over to him and perched on one of his knees. She leaned in close and whispered something in his ear, and he chuckled and pulled her against him, hands curling around her hips.

The door opened again, and three men came in, holding briefcases. The newcomers greeted the men who were already present, and there was a series of boisterous exclamations over Sassy and Scarlet, both of whom giggled a lot and appeared to revel in the attention. Shots were poured and toasts were made. The level of whiskey in the bottle dropped dramatically, and I slipped out to get another bottle.

When I returned and set the full bottle beside Mr. Sutton, he said, “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

“I try my best, sir,” I said, eyes lowered. The short hairs on the back of his neck looked soft to the touch. I imagined the way they would bristle beneath my palm.

“Who’s this?” one of the guests asked, gesturing to me with his glass.

“Cocktail waitress,” Mr. Sutton said dismissively. “So, Nathan, you were telling me about the latest merger.”

Another man crooked two fingers at me, and I crossed to his side. He was older, his dark hair sprinkled with gray, and he looked tired. “Get me a bottle of red,” he said. “I don’t care what. Something good.”

“Of course,” I murmured, and went to speak with the bartender.

When I returned with the man’s wine, he handed me a folded bill and said, “You must be new.”

I saw no reason to deny it. “Fairly new,” I said.

“Sit down,” he told me.

I hesitated, but there was enough room on the sofa that I could sit without having to touch him, and I couldn’t see any polite way to refuse. I sat down gingerly, smoothing my skirt out of the way. I hoped he wouldn’t do anything inappropriate. I really, really wanted to keep this job, and pissing off one of Mr. Sutton’s guests probably wasn’t the best way to do it.

“I like a pretty face,” the man said, leaning toward me. “You look so exotic. What are you?”

My least favorite question. I gritted my teeth and tried to look pleasant. “My ancestry is Filipino,” I said.

“You mean from the Philippines,” the guy said.

Worse and worse. In desperation, I looked toward the couch where Carter—Mr. Sutton—was sitting. He met my gaze, cocked his head to one side, and then motioned to me with one hand.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said to the man, springing to my feet. I crossed the room and bent toward Mr. Sutton, pretending as though I was listening intently to his drink order. My heart was beating more quickly than I could account for. I was really glad he’d rescued me from that creepy guy.

“Stay away from him,” Mr. Sutton said, voice low. “Be as rude as you need to. You don’t have to make him happy. You only have to make me happy.”