“You got it.” I hang up and toss the pile of property details on the desk that belongs to Andrea, one of my top agents. “Update these and delegate. I want them sold by the end of the week.”
Her sigh is deep. “The Georgian apartment in West London is giving me a headache.” She picks up the details and scans them. “Original features with massive potential, but no one can see past the filth in that joint.”
“Someone smart will,” I reply, walking away. “Keep me in the loop. I’ll be in tomorrow morning for an hour before I collect Georgia.” I break out onto the bustling street and make my way to my last appointment before I meet Raya.
*
The scent is a cocktail of sex and alcohol the moment I walk through the doors of Hux, with my eyes squinting until they become accustomed to the glow of light. I nod to Shelby, the busty Latino woman who works the front desk most nights. “I’m expecting someone.”
“Name?”
“Raya.” I pass her, rolling the ache away from my damn shoulder.
“She’s already here.”
I stop and glance down at my watch. It’s not even seven. She’s keener than I thought. “Where?”
Her pen points past me, to the door off the corridor on the right. “Lounge.”
“Thanks.”
The lounge is a calm space, full of purple velvet couches and erotic art, screaming sex. As I enter, I scan the space, seeing endless suited men and women chatting and drinking, their Friday night pre-wind down underway before they move into the club and get on with their real wind down. It’s the usual scene, nothing new. Except one thing…
I hone in on the lone woman at the end of the bar and smile to myself, taking in her leather jeans and simple black lace camisole. Even though she’s sitting down I can see that her legs go on for miles. Perfect to wrap around my waist.
She runs a hand through her platinum blond hair, pulling back the layers framing her face, giving me a full-on view of her. She’s beautiful—flawless skin, high cheekbones, full lips. Her features are almost brutal in their impact, enough to make a man blink away the sting from staring at her.
But I also sense a sadness radiating from every pore of her stunning body. Delicate fingers slowly spin a mobile phone, and as she gazes around the bar I catch sight of her eyes. They’re deep brown and look like they desperately want to shimmer with joy, but too much sadness is holding them back. She’s young, maybe mid-twenties, and that makes me wonder what could have happened in her short life to spike such apparent anguish.
Sliding my hands into my pockets, I slowly pace toward her, reminding myself that she’s here to be fucked, not figured out.
“Raya?” I ask when I approach her side, pulling her around on her stool until she’s facing me.
In an instant I see something change in her, her brown eyes suddenly glowing, any misery dissolving. That shimmer, although I know it’s a front, emphasizes just how beautiful she really is. I hold my hand out to her. “Drew.”
She gives me her hand and brings her gaze to mine again. Then she smiles, looking almost amused. I’m caught off guard, taken aback by the brightness of her expression. It gives her beauty a new edge, a warmth that makes my stomach flip. It completely contradicts her request for detachment, and at this moment I’m glad, because I’m seriously in awe. I beat down my admiration as she cocks her head a little, making a layer of her hair fall across one of her sparkling eyes. The urge to reach forward and brush it away nearly gets the better of me. “Nice to meet you, Drew.”
Her hold of my hand is tight, surely meant to be confident, when I know it’s actually nerves making her squeeze so hard. “Is something funny?” I ask, keeping my expression stony.
I pull my hand free of hers, trying not to frown when the heat of her touch fades from my skin. Taking a stool next to her, my gaze remains on hers as she laughs the same deep, throaty laugh I heard on the phone. The sound echoes in my head, and I have to work hard not to smile at her unknown amusement.
“I’m sorry.” She returns to face the bar, still fiddling with her mobile. “I wasn’t expecting…” She drifts off and swallows, and I notice her exposed collarbone, the path from her throat to her shoulder a perfect line of sensitive flesh pleading for my lips. “You’re not what I was expecting.” She returns her attention to me, her brown eyes now full of appreciation.
“And what were you expecting?”
“I don’t know.” She glances away, and I find myself reaching for her face to turn it back. She doesn’t pull away, just lets me hold her jaw as she gazes at me.
“You’re attracted to me.” I state it as a fact, and she nods in my hold.
“Although you’re a little older than I expected.”
“Ouch.” I laugh lightly at her frankness. So much for emotionless.
“It’s not a problem, though,” she rushes to reassure me. It’s reassurance I don’t need, yet for some odd reason I’m glad she’s not bothered by the years that separate us.
“Then we’re off to a good start. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.” She purses her lips, nervous. “Is that a problem for you?”
“Not at all.” I release her face, registering her relief. “Would you like a drink?”
“Hendricks, please. Straight.”
I signal the barman over and order our drinks, feeling Raya’s eyes on my profile the entire time. There’s an unease simmering within me, something alien and unsettling, and I can’t quite put my finger on the cause. I generally don’t feel at all. Not around here, at least. All of my emotion is reserved for Georgia. Yet the woman sitting beside me is unearthing an intrigue beyond how hard I’m going to come when I fuck her. It’s unsettling. Why is she here? I want to know, but definitely shouldn’t ask.
I slide her drink toward her and watch as she takes a sip. She swallows and takes a breath. “Is this customary?” she asks, raising her glass. “I mean the drinks.”
“You want to get straight to the fucking part?”
She fails to hide her slight recoil, and though I remain straight-faced on the outside, I’m smiling a little on the inside. Honestly, her nerves are turning me on. What I could do to her. How I can make her feel. It’s just ramping up the flow of blood through my veins.
“I thought we were supposed to talk,” she says quietly, almost unsure. “Find out whether you can give me what I’m looking for.”
I decide to humor her. “What do you want out of this?” I tip my whiskey to my lips as she studies me.
“I’m a woman. I have needs.” Her chin raises in a display of sureness.
I silently call bullshit. “Then date,” I counter swiftly, and she laughs lightly, forcing me to tamp down the pleasure inside me that the sound stirs.
“When you date someone, Drew, they want to get to know you.” She levels me with an expression that can only be described as determination. And damn if it only makes me want to figure her out even more. “People around here don’t want to get to know each other, right?”