I hadn’t been back to my apartment since that night with Ruby. Not that I hadn’t wanted to, but I’d been busting my ass day and night trying to get a handle on things and prove myself to the old man and my siblings. I’d completely forgotten about doing anything for myself. That in itself wasn’t necessarily a problem, except that I’d been thinking about Ruby almost every day. I couldn’t seem to get her out of my head, so with the distribution deal with Alejandro well in hand, I had called Remy and set something up to relieve my sexual tension.
“We’ve been expecting your call,” Remy had told me through the phone receiver. “We haven’t heard from you in quite a while. You’re breaking routine. That’s not like you,” he noted. “I was afraid you might have gone to another service.”
“No, no, I’m very happy with your service. I’ve just been very busy.”
“Ah, yes, the new promotion at work. How is it going?”
“It hasn’t completely begun yet. I’m still in training, but even that’s not easy.”
“I see. Well, maybe we can make you feel better....” he’d said and then we proceeded to make arrangements.
When I strolled into the condo, the aroma coming from the kitchen was teasing my nose, much like how, in the next hour or so, the cook would be teasing my dick. I know it might seem selfish of me to be out whoring around in my condo when my family’s business was in trouble, but nobody had put in more work than me this week. I was doing the best I could, and consequently, I hadn’t had a good night’s rest, eaten a decent meal, or screwed in more than two weeks, and I was bound and determined to kill three birds with one stone that night.
I quickly tried to erase the self-serving thoughts from my mind. Pussy should never interfere with blood—although I’d be a lying bastard if I said a little * wouldn’t give me just the boost I needed right about now. After all, what’s more rejuvenating and energizing than a little *? Hell, a big *. And thanks to Maria and Remy, whose services I could always count on, that was just what was about to go down.
“Dinner is served.”
Just the words I needed to hear as I turned my attention to the antidote to cure my day’s woes. Seeing her standing there in nothing but stilettos and a black-and-white lacy apron would have made any man forget his troubles and get lost in the sheer anticipation of what was to come. But I knew what was to come. I’d been there before, to that place that washes all a man’s troubles away just long enough for him to recoup and prepare for the next day’s concerns.
“I hope you like.” Her accent was so sexy. She licked her lips, batted her eyes, and beckoned with her index finger, luring me into the kitchen. Even though I’d been there before and almost knew what to expect, I followed.
“Allow me to get your chair, Mr. Orlando,” she said, then proceeded to pull out my chair.
I sat and gave the spread on the table the once-over. I’d eaten an identical meal before. I hated repeating meals almost as much as seeing the same girl twice. Had I done the right thing, letting Remy send me this girl, or should I have listened to my gut? The hell with your rule, my conscience had tried to tell me.
Ten minutes into our dinner, it got to the point where it all seemed like déjà vu. I wasn’t even taking part in the conversation anymore. Just nodding.
“Is everything okay?” The poor girl almost looked offended that I had only picked at my meal. “The rice not good? You like sweet and sour chicken, no?”
“You wouldn’t happen to know how to make jerk chicken, would you?” I looked up at the Asian beauty and then at the native cuisine that sat on the table. I meant to keep my laughter inside, but it seeped out. Now she wasn’t almost offended; she was offended. I knew this because even though I had absolutely no fucking idea what she was saying in her native tongue, I could tell she was cussing me out.