As mentioned, I saw Dion exactly forty-eight hours later.
Not only was I competitive, I wasn’t able to shake his face from my thoughts no matter what I did.
And dammit, I wanted to impress him.
However, after wiring me the money as promised, he sent me on another job.
Then another and another.
So, for the last two weeks I’ve been solely on retainer for Dion Fox.
Initially I was skeptical of his motives thinking it was cute the lengths he’d go to because he wanted to see me, get to know me.
And now? Oh, what I know is that he’s full of shit.
The man has single handedly managed to monopolize all of my time by giving me jobs a toddler could solve.
He also insisted he pay handsomely for my time hoping I’d be too about the cash to notice I was being led by the nose. But after what just happened, I’m positive he either thinks this is funny or he’s a grade A prick who thinks I’m a joke. Let the record show, I don’t like being made fun of.
I’ve been in and out of the den so much that security just waves me through. The employees know me on a first name basis and on the plus side, I’ve passed around a lot of business cards.
Turns out, gentlemen’s clubs have been a market I hadn’t cornered.
But that’s not why I’m here today. Today, I get answers, or possibly kick his ass. I haven’t decided which way I’ll go.
Rounding the corner to the hallway that takes me to his office, I ask the bouncer, “Is he in?”
“Door’s open, Miss Mercy,” he nods showing me through.
I didn’t knock or announce myself. Instead, I stormed inside like I owned the place. I mean, why not? It’s what he’s done to me since we met. And that kiss…you don’t kiss a woman like that to shut her up and then not shut her up all the time. Which, was the crux of the problem. He hasn’t shut me up a second time and I’ve been a horny mess ever since. It pissed me off because I was totally kissable! I liked it when his body caged mine in. As if he wanted to tackle me but was biding his time. So yes, I wanted to kiss, cuddle, and screw the man’s brains out and what does he do? Keeps it strictly business. The fucker.
“We need to talk,” I say in lieu of hello.
“Just in time, I was about to pour a drink. Would you like one?”
“No, I mean, yes,” I groan at my weakness. Between him and the alcohol, I was such a sure thing. “Make it a double.”
Shrugging off his suit jacket, I watch him reach for the bottle, careful not to whimper. He was just so…ugh. Male. Those shoulders, that coat, his freshly cut hair… I was weak, dammit!
“I didn’t expect to see you today,” he says with what sounded like happiness in his voice.
“I didn’t expect you to keep up the act either,” I counter, trying really hard to ignore my tingling nipples.
“What act?” he asks handing me my drink, which I wasted no time slamming.
“We’re going to play this game,” I mumble to myself, yet he hears me and chuckles. “No amount of counterfeit evidence was going to convince me that Roger, your best friend since fifth grade, was selling you out. A man that hugs a woman he doesn’t know isn’t capable of it. Kind of like your accountant, who wasn’t skimming. But I forgave you for that because his ideas really saved me this season. Johanna wasn’t making pornos for side cash either. And can I just say the fact that you even have to put that in your employee’s contract is weird.”
“Anything else?” he asks stifling a laugh.
“Oh good, I amuse you,” I say slamming my second drink back and pouring another. “While I could go on about the wild goose chase you sent me on, this morning was going too far.”
“So, you’re saying Tre is innocent?” he smirks and his crooked smile nearly does me in.
“You’re the devil,” I accuse. “That poor man has four girlfriends and six kids, Dion. He is incapable of dishonesty so much so that his girlfriends not only know about each other but are best friends. No bullshit, they have matching tattoos and everything! I’ve never seen anything like it…”
“I suppose that benefits the kids,” he says biting his lip.
“He makes a nun look dirty,” I say and that’s when he busts out laughing. “Oh, you laugh,” I admonish him. “But he broke so easily. I barely leaned on him and he started to cry. Cry! That sin stains your soul, Dion! And do you know how guilt looks on me?” I squawk. “I can’t handle man tears!”
Covering his mouth was pointless because he was laughing so loud no amount of shielding was going to help.
When he sobers a bit he confesses, “Tre is seasoned in theatre.”
“You dick!” I squeal and then think on what I knew of Tre. Mainly that he was in the wrong line of work. “Man, he was so believable…”
“He’s very good,” he agrees with a smug grin.
“Okay, no,” I say putting a hand up. “The bullshit ends now. Why did you waste my time and your money like that?”
“I wanted you to know my world,” he explains. “I didn’t see it as wasting time. I saw it as being proactive.”
“To what end?”
“To making you mine.”
“This is the part where I tell you I don’t date clients.” Even though I really want to date this one.
“Good.”
“Okay, then that’s settled,” I say oddly disappointed.
Refilling my glass, he blurts, “You’re fired.”
“I’m sorry,” I say slowly. “One more time.”
“I said, you’re fired.”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time but I don’t know why you’d fire me.”
“You don’t date clients, I’m no longer your client. Now, I’m free to make you mine.”
Slamming that glass back too, I stare at him in confusion/shock/arousal. This is why liquid courage is important, people. It helps you say the shit you normally wouldn’t say and not care in the slightest. And no, it didn’t matter that I wasn’t flat out drunk yet. It’s the fact that it’s in my system. Once you ingest it, it counts.
“So, when you say, make me yours, you mean –”
“My woman,” he says simply.
“That’s what I thought you meant,” I mumble going for the bottle.
“Is this a problem?”
“Nah,” I slur a bit. Jesus, what kind of booze is this? It’s strooooong. I never get whammied this fast. I’m a career drinker for fuck’s sake. “No problem other than maybe asking for what you want instead of demanding it.”
“I just did.”
“Just did what?”
“Asked for it,” he says narrowing his eyes at me. “You should slow down on that whiskey, it’s 180 proof.”
“Ah, that explains that.”
“Are you drunk?”
“A little lot,” I give my best shit eating grin. “Can we back up please? Slowly and enunciating all the words, tell me again.” Because I needed to hear it again, bad.
“I’m making you mine, Mercy,” he says pulling me to him. “I want you working for me exclusively –”
“In other words, under your thumb.”
“I prefer the term nearby.”
“You do know I was a cop, right?”
“Yes,” he grins making it clear he’s not listening to me.
“Even made detective.”
“Which is very impressive, Mercy.”
“Thank you,” I say sincerely. “That was really nice to hear and I appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome,” he says leaning in to kiss me. The moment our lips touched, I was a goner. When his hands cupped my face I’m pretty sure I mewled. “How drunk are you?”
“Pleasantly,” I nearly groan. “Still me with a side of horny, panties optional.”
“Stay the night,” he urges me right as my phone rang.
Reaching into my pocket, I check the screen and explain, “I’m sorry but I have to take it.” Nodding but not releasing me, I answer, “Pita, what’s wrong?”
“Where are you?”
“The Foxxx Den, why?”
“I need –” he says and the phone went dead.
Redialing him it went straight to voicemail. Muttering, “Shit,” I sit on the couch and start biting all twenty of my nails. Yes, I was that drunk.
“He knows you’re here,” Dion says giving me a one arm hug. “Keep your phone on and if he calls again, we’ll be ready.”
“He was a foster kid,” I say absently. “The conditions he lived in were deplorable, Dion. The state allowed multiple children to live in that shit hole. Pita was suffering and I couldn’t take it. I called it in, pulled some favors and expedited the authorities getting involved.”
“Mercy, that was –”
“I got all the kids out,” I say sadly. “Including Pita.”
“And that’s bad because?”
“Because he’s of age, they released him out into the wild with no means of defending himself.”
“Fuck.”
“He stayed in that house to look after those kids,” I whisper in despair. “He stayed because the alternative was living on the street. He stayed and suffered while those fucking ‘parents’ cashed his checks. Because of me, Pita struggles now, but in a different way. He tries so hard… He never mentions his parents or any family. He doesn’t even bring up his time in the system. So, if following me around filming my day to day makes him happy, he can have at it.”
“He does it because he loves you, Mercy. And whether you think so or not, you got him and the others out of a horrible situation. Obviously, he’s done well for himself. Where does he live and work?”
“He’s rooming with four other boys and works part time at a liquor store.”
“He can work for me if he likes,” he says easily. “Having you both here and happy is even better.”
“He won’t even let me pay him,” I groan. “That kid is so damn proud and don’t think I didn’t catch what you slipped in there. Ever hear of warp speed?”
“He’ll see reason and you’ll come around,” he vows. “Now let’s get back to where we were.”
I’m pretty sure I said finally but then I fell asleep so…