The Billionaire's Wife(7)
“Sit. Drink. You’ll feel much better once you do.” Allison was the party girl in college; she somehow managed to scrape through with a 3.0 average and still get hammered every other night. I wouldn’t trust her for homework help, but the girl knows a thing or two about hangover cures. “So?” She pokes at the omelet with her spatula “What did you get up to last night that’s left you so green this morning?” I shrug. Allison has a knack for gossip but despite never wanting to tell her anything that should remain a secret I always crack. I decide to forego the prolonging of the inevitable and just tell her.
“I took a gig working the Lambert Estate charity event.” Allison flips the omelet on to a plate and with a glance my way starts to work on a second one for herself. “Only, I ended up finding some hidden bar in the basement…” Allison whips her head around; her mouth is wide open and her eyes as big as dinner plates.
“NO WAY! What was it? Was it some crazy cult thing or something? I always said the guy was a weirdo, I mean, you hardly ever see him in pictures. What does he even do anyway? Wait, no, tell me about the bar first!” I wave a hand at the omelet pan which is going to start burning at any second now.
“Omelet!” She turns back to the stove. “Soooo I go in to this bar and I figure it’s some getaway or man cave or whatever. There’s no one in there but this guy Ricky who is the biggest flirt you’ve ever seen.” I can see Allison raising a single eyebrow and smirking already.
“Did you?” She has a way of making you feel like the biggest slut in the world but then she also has a way of making that seem like a good thing. “Did you fuck him, Missy?” I can’t help but grin back at her and that is the only confirmation she needs. “Tell me! I want all the deets!” Flipping the second omelet on to a plate Allison grabs them both and sets them on the breakfast bar.
“Eww I’m not telling you all the details!” Allison isn’t impressed.
“Spill it; at least tell me if he was good.”
“Ummm, yes.” My mind starts to wander back to last night, the sight of his throbbing cock just begging for me to suck him, fuck him and…
“That’s it? That’s all you give me? Yes? Who was he? Are you going to see him again? Missy, is he at least hot?” The questions are never ending and there’s no way that I’m going to tell her that it was Gideon now; Jesus the questions really would never stop then.
“He was the bar tender at the creepy bar, his name was Ricky. That’s about all I know, he’s a man of mystery.” I laughed, hoping she would accept my vague answer without calling bullshit. “And I really hope I get to see him again. Oh and yes, he is deliciously hot.”
“Oh honey, you are such a tease.” Allison shovels a fork full of omelet in to her mouth and rolls her eyes at me. God help me if she EVER finds out who Ricky really is, more to the point, God help Gideon.
Chapter Five
I pull up to the huge estate for the second time in two weeks. I feel my stomach knot at the thought of running in to Gideon Lambert again. The décor for this fundraiser looks just the same as it did last time and I wonder if they just reused the decorations and used white out on the charity name. I can’t say that I’m looking forward to another night of being ignored by high society snobs, but I am looking for the chance to slip away and take a private tour of the downstairs bar again.
Walking inside the place I find that nothing much has changed with the exception of the stage where Gideon had given his speech at the last event, which is evidently missing. I see a few familiar faces setting up small ice sculptures and putting up informational easels throughout the halls as I make my way back to the kitchen. I wonder if the same sour faces will be milked for donations tonight. I try not to focus on the dismissive way they had all waved me off as I offered them champagne at the last event; rather, I thought about “Ricky” the bartender who had brought more than a little excitement to the night. I plan the opportunity to sneak down to the bar once I see the champagne supply start to dwindle, that way I can use the excuse of getting more supplies if I get caught.
Three hours in to the fundraiser though and I’m staring at a pitch black bar with no sign of the bartender I have been lusting after all night. I had assumed that the event being held at the Lambert Estate had meant that Gideon would be here. I suppose billionaires frequently volunteer their homes for these types of things though. There’s a pang of disappointment sitting heavy on my chest as I make my way back up the basement stairs.