Chapter 31
Damon
My day did not go as planned, and I fucking hate when that happens. I don't know what Scott was thinking by not showing up for the meeting we arranged weeks ago and was supposed to be his first feedback talk after his business officially became a reality, at least on paper. We're still in the early beginning phase, but by now there should be some first-impact development for him to share with us. Today, he was supposed to give us a chance to review another disclosure regarding the company's use of proceeds and take a closer look at its core management. Crucial steps that are a standard necessity for agreements between an investor and the leading figure of the venture he's investing in.
None of that happened today, simply because Scott didn't show up. He has been acting aloof and nervous at other meetings before, but I never thought much of it. I know what pressure he's under because I have been raised by a couple who went through the same. My only hope is that Scott doesn't deal with the stress in the same way my parents did. He didn't show any signs of usage the last time I saw him, but neither did my parents at first. It's easy for a productive coke user to hide his dangerous habit in front of people who are only faced with him on an irregular basis.
Nevertheless, this is very unlike him. He has never bailed on us. While I was merely getting irritated at his tardiness at first, I began to switch from angry to concerned when we couldn't even reach him on his cell phone. I had to leave for the appointment with my parents' attorney, which is why I left it to Dean to stalk Scott and find out what was going on with him. He's instructed to let me know the minute he finds out anything.
It's almost 9:00 p.m. and I still haven't heard anything from him by the time my car leaves for the club. My eyes scan the darkness outside as my driver takes me to the outskirts of the city, where my blonde mystery is waiting for me, kneeling naked and ready to give herself to me. My cock twitches with need at the mere image of her. I wonder if despite everything that's been going on today I might be able to end the day on a positive note. If anyone could make that happen, it's her.
My meeting with the attorney was tedious, but auspicious in a way that should give reason for me to rejoice if I weren't as detached from my parents as I am. I haven't seen either of them in over a year, despite their attempts of getting in contact with me. My mother wrote letter after letter, trying to win my affection. I never received it as a sign of repentant and loving parents, but only as instrumental to mark their way out of prison. They know of my wealth and influence, and for all I know they just want to use it to shorten their sentence by as much as possible. They lost everything and I am just as aware as they are of their dependence on me.
Their attorney looked physically hurt when I told him that I wanted to see them behind bars longer rather than shorter. He has known me for years and should know of my broken relationship with those two, but he still couldn't refrain from being reproachful when talking to me. Too bad for him that guilt-tripping has never worked with me.
The car stops and I curse myself for drowning in unpleasant thoughts until now. My somber mind is of no use when I'm with her and I need to cast the annoying shadows of my parents aside, just as I cast aside Scott and his worrisome unreliability today.
"Same as always?" my driver asks from the front.
I barely look at him as I reply. "Yes. I'll let you know when I'm done."
He acknowledges my response with a silent nod and waits for me to get out of the car. I slam the door shut with more force than intended, displaying my inner tension to everyone around. Luckily, that only includes my driver and the doorman, who is trained in discreet behavior and doesn't bat an eye at my aggressive gesture.
"Mr. Graves," he greets me, his voice dark and husky. I can't remember his name and respond with a wordless nod while he opens the door for me.
I should have a drink to calm my nerves and get into the right mood before walking upstairs, but I'm too restless for that. Elene deserves better than to be treated like a simple distraction from life. She's more than that to me, though I'm not sure whether the assessment I chose is any more flattering. She's like a long-lasting drug, operating in soft and secular waves instead of providing me with a short-lived rush. It's hard to imagine she could ever wear off, but the fear of that happening is what keeps me at bay, even now.
The venue is not as crowded tonight as I have seen it on other occasions, probably due to the fact that it's the middle of the week. A few familiar faces dart in my direction, but very few come with a greeting or a smile. The madam appears in my vicinity only moments after I step through the door, once again proving her omnipresence in The Velvet Rooms. I wonder how she manages to run the agency and the club at the same time when she seems to be present at the venue on every single night. She is one of the few faces who regard me with a welcome as I make my way through the room.
My mind shifts to a better place once my hand closes around the rail next to the stairs that spiral up to the second floor. The image of her kneeling with obedient patience while she waits for me is enough to cast aside the sinister reflections on my misguided parental units and the lack of reliability shown by Scott.
My pulse speeds as I approach the dark curtain that hides my ethereal secret, and it leaps when I push the curtain aside and enter the black velvet room that has become our private sanctuary.
She's kneeling right below the spotlight, her head lowered and her palms resting on her thighs, displaying the position of the pleasure slave with perfect poise.
But something is different today. I can tell from the moment I lay eyes on her. She's not wearing her long platinum hair in an up-do tonight. In fact, she's not wearing it in any kind of particular fashion. The stark bright locks just flow down her shoulders in unkempt waves, hugging her narrow frame in unusual disarray.
Wild. She looks wild.
I step closer, relishing in the soft flinch of her dainty body as she can feel me approaching.
"Elene," I whisper, tasting her delicate name like an exotic fruit. "Look at me."
She does. And as her piercing blue eyes lock onto mine, I finally understand what it means to have your heart skip a beat. I almost jolt back on instinct, as if her beauty was an attack on me. In a way it is. It takes a few moments for me to realize what she did to have this effect on me, but the moment I do, I'm brought to my knees.
A shy smile mixes with the confusion on her bare face when I sink down in front of her before reaching out to her.
"Shit, what are you doing to me?" I whisper, holding her face between my hands. I study her with a fascination that's reserved for first-time meetings. In a way, this feels as if I'm seeing her for the very first time. The real her.
Today she didn't try to be someone else. It's not like she's not wearing any makeup at all, because she is. But she didn't paint a mask on her immaculate face; she only emphasized what was already there. She brushed her face with a light powder, dipping her natural lashes in a gentle coat of black, and highlighting the bright pink of her lips with a hint of gloss. Nothing but the bleach in her untamed hair disguises the natural beauty she is.
"You asked for me bare and real," she coos in a soft voice. "This is it. This is all I can give you."
A moment of tense silence stretches between us as she awaits my response, while I try to calm the monster inside me.
Fuck it. There's no use. Not tonight.