But first…
I head to the built-ins, swing the Ansel Adams print away from the wall, and pull down on the lever that opens the safe. After I snatch the manila envelope out, I walk to my desk. Pulling my rolling chair back, I sit down and lean forward with my elbows on my knees, staring at the packet of lewd fuckery I hold in my hands. I’d even addressed it to Jayce, having easily found out where he lives due to my contacts through The Jameson Group.
My revenge used to be very important to me, but I realize that the moment Trista showed me that cake, it’s simply not anymore.
I can’t risk hurting Trista just to hurt her brother.
Can’t do it.
She’s more important than revenge.
She makes me feel better than any retribution toward Jayce could ever do.
I look at the gray box under my desk. It’s my shred bin and it gets picked up once a month as I don’t have a lot of paper documents that are confidential. Normally, there’s a top on the box that locks but the slot to slide the papers in is really narrow which makes it hard to put a thick stack in there, so I took it off and God only knows where it is now. I’m not worried for the same reason I don’t lock my safe. I’ve got a good security alarm and a lock on the door that’s sufficient.
I toss the envelope into the deep rectangular box without a single worry about the contents sitting there for a few days. No different than sitting in an unlocked safe, and I’m afraid I might forget and miss the shred pickup, which is at the end of the week. Then it will be destroyed forever.
But starting this moment… I’m not thinking about it anymore. Not about the photos, or the fucking hot-as-hell video, or the fact I hate Jayce more than anything in this world except perhaps Michelle. I’m not thinking about any of that. I’m letting it go.
I’m letting everything go.
Except Trista.
I’m not giving her up.
CHAPTER 24
Trista
My phone chimes, alerting me to a text while I’m in the elevator on the way up to The Wicked Horse. I reach into my bag, pull it out, and smile when I see Jerico’s text.
You’re relieved of hostess duty tonight. Your job is to keep me company. Meet me in The Social Room.
Shaking my head in amusement, I slip my phone back in my purse just as the elevator doors open. My eyes go to Tamara, who’s on hostess duty, and I give her a smile. She doesn’t return it, so I lump her into the category of women who have had Jerico once before. I know I should be disgusted by the number of employees he’s apparently fucked, but I can’t really be. He was single and had no commitments to anyone but himself. He owns a freaking sex club where inhibitions are not allowed and sexual gratification is the name of the game. Why wouldn’t he fuck these women?
But he’s not now and that makes me feel good. Doesn’t mean he won’t start doing that again soon because I’ve only got nine days left on my work contract with him. Of course, the thought of breaking ties with him doesn’t set well with me. I know this started as just casual, impersonal sex, but neither of us can deny it has gradually turned into something more. We’ve opened up and shared with each other. Committed to monogamy, which wasn’t hard for me, but was a first for Jerico in a long time. At least that’s what he told me, but when I’d asked him to clarify what a long time meant, he redirected me with a hand between my legs. I forgot all about my question. In hindsight though, because he didn’t want to talk about it, I’m guessing whatever it was wasn’t pleasant at all.
My eyes scan The Social Room. Jerico stands at the end of the bar, almost in the exact place he was the night I met him almost three weeks ago. His eyes are pinned on me and even from across the room, I can see the hunger in them. Hunger for only me, and that causes my entire being to ache for him.
I walk his way, putting a little roll in my hips. I’m wearing another sexy black dress with high heels, the standard uniform for the hostess podium, but this one is strapless and hugs every inch of my body.
But Jerico doesn’t even bother giving me a critical scan. No, his eyes bore into mine and the closer I get to him, the more I’m sure I want him to just take me right to the floor and fuck me hard.
Shaking my head to try to clear the lustful thoughts—nothing I can do about the wet panties—I put a smile on my face when I reach him. “Hey, gorgeous.”
“That’s my line,” he murmurs as he slides a hand behind my neck and pulls me into him for a kiss. It’s nothing but a whisper… a soft sliding of his lips over mine before he pulls back. “Want a drink?”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “That’s two nights in a row you’ve given me off. How am I supposed to fulfill my contract if you won’t let me work?”
Jerico doesn’t answer at first, but turns to the bartender and orders me a Manhattan, straight up. When he angles his body back my way, he says, “Last night and tonight count toward your contract.”
I sidle in closer to him, giving a tug on his silk tie of pale blue with gray diagonal stripes. “Why are you being so nice?”
“You made me a cake,” he says simply.
With a husky laugh, I lean in closer to whisper, “I’ve also swallowed for you many times, and I’d think that would make you a lot nicer than cake.”
Jerico laughs, his eyes twinkling for a moment before turning dark.
Potent.
Intense.
Sizzling.
His hand comes up to cup my jaw, and his thumb runs over my bottom lip. “You going to let me fuck that mouth tonight?”
“If you want,” I respond hoarsely. Now my clit is pulsing.
The bartender returns with my drink. Jerico takes it and hands it over. “What do you want to do tonight?”
I take a sip—a large one to steady my nerves—and my hand drops from his tie down to his leather belt where I lay my fingertips lightly on the edge of it. “I want to try the stocks.”
Jerico’s eyebrows fly upward in surprise. I’ve not initiated any type of sex in public. It’s always been him pulling me off to do something dirty in front of others. He knows part of what gets me off is the wrongness of it all, and I know in a million years he never thought I’d suggest it.
“Are you sure?” he asks, eyes filled with slight worry.
I nod. “I’m feeling adventurous. As our time winds down… well, I think I want to give it my all here. Don’t want to walk away with regrets.”
Jerico picks up his vodka tonic, takes a sip, and sets it down on the bar. When he turns to look at me, he asks, “What would you say if I offered you a permanent job here?”
Now my eyebrows are the ones to shoot up. “Doing what?”
“Hostess duty,” he says.
I take another healthy sip of my Manhattan, all thoughts of the stocks on temporary hold. After I set my glass down next to his, I say, “I’m not sure how I’d explain this job to my mother.”