Emerson
I had a terrible time falling asleep last night, or should I say this morning. I had so much fun with Nic before and during our make-out session outside my door. I know I’ve said it before, but he is just so different from the norm for me. His confidence and even his dirty humor intrigue me so much more than I ever thought possible.
When our evening came to an end at almost two-thirty in the morning, I was sad to see him go. Though I was disappointed or at least my body was, I was glad things were left as they were. It made me aware that Nic wasn’t just looking for a one-night stand.
The buzzer to my apartment echoes throughout my living room, making my body jerk in surprise. The coffee in my cup sloshes out onto the countertop before me and burns my hand in the process. “Damn it,” I complain as I set it down quickly and move toward the sink for the comfort of cold water.
Again the buzzer rings and I groan as I grab a towel and dry my hand. Rushing across the open space, I start smacking the button before it has the chance to ring once more. “Yes?”
“Open the door,” Gianna insists. “Your creepy doorman is giving me the once over, and I don’t know if he’s about to call the cops or jump me. I prefer the cops by the way. I think he has more hair hanging out of his nose than I have on my cookie.”
“Eww,” I protest because I could have lived without her details.
She is ridiculous, but even then she always manages to make me laugh. I buzz her through and go back to my kitchen to clean up my coffee mess. She has a key to my apartment, but recently they’ve started to enhance the security to our building, and a code is required to enter the front doors, which I have yet to give her. I think I enjoy the fact that she can’t just barge in when she wants to. She, of course, hates it.
“That man freaks me out.” Her voice echoes over the apartment as she pushes through the door. “I think he was getting hard.”
I roll my eyes as I round the corner and I stop dead in my tracks. “Please for the love of god, tell me you’re wearing something under that t-shirt.”
“Wellllll,” she stretches out the word, “if you insist that I lie.”
I let my head hang forward, though I shouldn’t be surprised. She is wearing a light blue t-shirt that is thin, very thin. Around her waist she has what looks like a necktie made into a belt, cinched and hanging down her side. Her hair is wadded up in a high ponytail, all wild and crazy and on her feet are the fancy heels she wore from the night before.
“No wonder my doorman was ogling you. My god, Gia, you can see your tits right through the material of the shirt.”
“I wore this over it.” She holds up a thin sweater. “I was just hot, so when I stepped inside I took it off. It’s probably the best view the man has gotten all week, huh? Should I be grossed out that he’s probably down there right now jerking his—”
“Stop,” I say holding up my hand in protest. “Has anyone ever told you that your vocabulary is flagrant and repulsive?”
“You often do.” She shimmies past me and reaches up for a coffee mug on the open shelves above my coffee bar. In the process, her ass cheeks peek out from beneath the hem of her t-shirt.
“Where the hell is your underwear, you floozy?”
Instead of attempting to cover her ass, she wiggles it and smiles at me over her shoulder. “I've left them somewhere in Spencer’s apartment. But in my defense, I did attempt to look for them. I do, however, vaguely remember the sound of something tearing in the heat of the moment so they may be in pieces.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I know, right?” With a mug in hand, she moves toward the pot, and I watch in silence as she makes a cup of coffee with far too much sugar and cream. “God, that tastes good,” she mumbles as she sips the sugary liquid. “In my rush to leave, I missed my wake me up cup.”
“Why were you rushing to leave?”
“That man may just have a higher sexual craving than I do,” she says, with a look of disbelief. “I swear, parts of me hurt that I didn’t know were possible.”
“You can hold back any further details.”
“Fine,” she rolls her eyes, “but you can fill me in on your night.”
“It was nowhere near as whorish as yours,” I say with a smile. She mouths the word jealous and she may be right. I do sometimes wish I had the confidence and free spirit that she has. Gianna isn’t a whore as I teased her before; she is just open to her desires. She doesn’t sleep around, but she doesn’t hold back the urges should they arise when the right man is present either. This comes from her being trapped for far too long in a relationship with the wrong man. She spent three years married to a controlling, manipulative man, and dated him for a couple of years before that. She eventually realized she deserves more and now she is more of a take what I want when I want it kind of girl.
I admire her; I won’t lie.
“I already know that you and Mr. Magic Mike himself didn’t spend the night together, but there is no way you will convince me that with a man like that something didn’t happen. He is far too sexy and far too confident not to make even the smallest of moves.” She is right, he did have some pretty killer moves. “Imagine him above you, naked, moving his hips the way he did on that stage.”
“Oh my god, will you stop already?” I toss the towel at her, and it hits her shoulder. “Not everything is about sex.”
“No, but a good majority of it is. Believe me when I say being stuck in a relationship with shit sex does, in fact, kill the connection.” I lean back against the counter as she does the same opposite me. “The attraction, the physical one, I don’t care who out there tries to convince me otherwise but it is the first thing that draws one to another. If you look at a man and instantly you think boring and drab, then you walk away. But if you see him and your body feels that pull, that desire for more, the one that has you shivering and humming in all the right places, then it’s a go. The rest comes with the process. So yes, the sex appeal sets a precedent for the rest of the relationship. It’s the starting point to whether it becomes more than just physical.”
I don’t respond because from the moment she said boring and drab all I could visualize was myself trapped in a relationship from hell with one of the many men my father insists will be the best suited for me. Out of all those, no one has ever given me the feeling that Nic did in a matter of hours.
“So…” I look back toward Gianna to find her watching me with curiosity.
“We kissed,” I confess, “a lot.”
“And?”
“We’re going out again tonight.” Her smile widens. “But that doesn’t mean it is going any further.”
“Why not?”
“You know why,” I tell her and ignore the way her nose wrinkles in irritation.
“Jesus, Em! Your father needs to back off. This entire thing is a bit creepy.” I turn away from her and walk toward my dining room. “You need to ask him if he’d appreciate you picking out his partner.”
“My mother wouldn’t appreciate that I’m sure.”
“Seriously?” I already know where this conversation is going. “Your poor mother is programmed to accept anything and everything that man tells her. I sometimes wonder if she even has a voice.”
“She loves him.”
“She is also his puppet.” I can’t argue because I know it’s true. My mother never once speaks up when it comes to my dad. “I don’t want to see you end up like that one day. A woman who lets go of everything she wants out of life to please a man. You have so much to offer and I’m not just talking about the money that follows you. All those men he attempts to set you up with, all they see when they look at you is their way in. Yes, they get a gorgeous woman to call theirs, but with that comes great fortune. The way Nic looked at you last night was not a man that was in it for the Mansfield money.”
“No, it was a man that wanted to get laid."
“If that was the case, then I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have been calling Spencer first thing this morning to burn off all his sexual tension with a day at the gym.” She sat at the table opposite me. “That man was wound up and looking for something to distract him from the gorgeous woman he spent the previous evening with. All I’m saying is he didn’t have to ask you on a second date, he could have just moved on. I think that alone speaks volumes.”
* * *
“I have a special guest arriving at the West Lake location who will be in town for only a few days.” I continue to work on my makeup as I listen to my father ramble on. “He’s considering our location for a series of upcoming high-end events. This would bring in not only the funds from the events themselves, but the demanding needs of all those we would be housing as well.”
“When is he arriving?” I try to sound interested even though this is the last thing I want to worry about. It is a little after six, and all I can think of is that in less than an hour I will see Nic again.
“He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon and he’ll be staying through Wednesday,” he replies. “I’ve already set him up for dinner at the Mirage tomorrow evening and your reservations are at eight. You should be there earlier to greet him.”
I freeze, the eyeliner pencil hovering over my left eye as I attempt to catch up with the words he just spoke.
“His name is Rodger Marcus and he is a man of many means. I’m counting on you to make a great impression.” His voice grows muffled for a few seconds before it becomes clear once more. “I’ve already ensured him that my beautiful daughter will show him the facility and answer all questions he may have. He seemed very pleased with the offer of a lady to accompany him around the city and hotel.”
I’m sure he did. I feel like a hooker being pimped out for business. “It would’ve been nice if you’d at least checked with me first before planning my evening.” He laughs and something about it irritates me more. “I may have had plans already.”
“I think we both know that the only plans you ever have are related to business or that atrocious woman you call a friend.”
“Lay off Gianna.” I may give in to many things and talk about what my father says without offering up a fight, but Gia wasn’t one of them.
“Be at Mirage by seven forty-five tomorrow evening and no later.”
I hear the click of the line and instantly get the urge to throw the phone across the room. But what good would that do? The man is an asshole and breaking my phone won’t stop him from attempting to control my life. He would merely have a replacement hand delivered to me so that he could once again tell me where I should be and what his expectations are while I’m there.
There is one thing I won’t do though. I won’t allow him to ruin my evening with Nic.