Chapter Ten

Booker

I can’t stop thinking about her.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t read through our conversation this morning. I couldn’t help myself. I had to have another session. I imagined it exactly as it happened before, though Sasha’s face once again intervened.

Curious. I never really thought I was into redheads. Apparently, I am. Not that I want to be with that one. Business and pleasure don’t mix. Rule number one. I lean back in my office chair and stare out at the city, lost in thought as I daydream about Angel.

I wonder what she’s doing right now.

I lift my phone and open the app. I think that this might be my biggest hit ever, if my own experience is any indication. Here I am, a man who doesn’t believe in love, possibly falling for a strange woman across the vast cavern that is the internet.

Isn’t life funny?

A niggling voice in the back of my head warns that this could end badly. The woman is a virgin. She’s a blurry image I can’t quite make out. There is a strong possibility that she might be terribly… not my type.

What if I’m not attracted to her? Is our emotional connection strong enough to surpass that, even over the test of time? Have I been imagining her to be a Venus, when in fact she is nothing of the sort?

What do I do then?

I shake the thought from my mind. There’s no point in thinking about that until it becomes an actual issue, and I didn’t make my money on worrying. I made it living in the present and taking challenges as they came.

I will do that here, too. Until proven otherwise, I’m going to believe that Angel is the goddess that I imagine her to be.

She has to be.

“Good morning,” I type.

This is the first woman I’ve spoken to where I initiate most of the conversation. Usually women are fawning over me, desperate for my attention. I’ve waited all morning for a text from Angel, and yet here we are. The fact that she makes me chase her is part alluring and part annoying. I’ve never had to pursue anyone before.

I love it, don’t I? Yes. I absolutely do.

“Hey there. Fancy meeting you here,” she responds, and I grin.

How is she so cute?

My grin fades as I realize I’m acting like a lovesick idiot.

Where is Booker Knight? Certainly not in this office.

“What are you up to?” I need to compose myself, for god’s sake. I have butterflies again.

Butterflies!

What kind of fresh nonsense hell is this?

“Just about to head into a meeting in a little bit. Otherwise, just thinking about what to have for lunch.”

Small talk. Nothing in particular. Somehow, even that seems to turn me on when it comes to Angel. All I can imagine is her taking a bite of ice cream, licking the spoon as she watches me with hungry eyes.

I clear my throat and shift in my seat.

“Might I suggest something healthy, like a beer and some fried chicken wings?”

“That does sound good. Now I’ll be daydreaming about it this whole time. Thanks a lot, Master!”

“What am I here for if not to slake your appetite?”

“You slake a lot more than that,” she replies.

Oh dear lord. I glance at my watch and wonder if we have time for a quick sext session. I love sexting with Angel. I can have another record for my own self pleasure later. The meeting’s about to start in a few minutes, so I don’t have time. Then again, I have a better idea. I tap on my keyboard.

“Why don’t you tell me exactly how you’d like me to pleasure you next time, and when I’m free again, I’ll see what I can do about that?”

“Ooh, that sounds exciting. Deal. I’ll be in touch, once I come up with a few ideas.”

“Looking forward to reading them.”

“You should be,” she says.

I see her leave the chat room then, and I turn off my phone. The meeting starts in a minute, and if I’m not there, who knows what kind of chaos will ensue?

I compile a series of folders and head to the main conference room. I emailed Lucy a fairly vague order on this, but I didn’t have the time or mental energy to put any more into it. After my session with Angel, how could I possibly? I stride down the empty hallway.

Must be the last one to arrive. Oh well. What’s a boss to do if not make a grand entrance? I step inside and a wave of faces looks up. I nod to the room in general and step to the head of the massive conference table. I take a seat and make eye contact with each person in the room, taking stock of who’s all here.

When my gaze lands on Sasha, I hesitate.

I’ve been imagining her in my head as Angel for long enough that it’s weird now to see her in person. She is a total stranger, an assistant, and now hers is the face that I masturbate to, but it isn’t, is it? I’m having a connection with Angel. I need to see her face so I can stop associating her with this woman I happen to think is attractive.

We need to get to the final image.

Someone clears their throat, and I realize that I’m staring at Sasha in a silent room. I finish taking count of everyone.

“Why does everyone look so nervous?” I ask.

A small chuckle echoes around the room, but the tension stays.

“Seriously? What did you all think this meeting was about? A mass firing?”

Not a single laugh for that one. OK, maybe I need to put more information into my company-wide meeting requests. Apparently, no news is bad news.

“Nothing bad is happening,” I reassure them. “In fact, this meeting is to plan and prepare a major event for the launch of our new app. February is coming up fast, and we need to start preparing to market accordingly.”

A wave of relief washes over the room, and I see several pairs of tense shoulders relax. I repress a laugh. It’s not funny, I remind myself. These people take their jobs seriously. It is my job to respect that. There’s a quote about that somewhere in one of those management books, right?

“What kind of event, Mr. Knight?”

A woman in the back sinks into her chair a little more after asking. I think her name is Julia? What does she do here again?

Management books. I need to get on those, apparently. Knowing one’s own staff is probably an important component to success, isn’t it?

Who knows?

“A launch party. We’ll host it in a major landmark, maybe somewhere near the pier where we can see the Statue of Liberty or something. I’ll figure it out. The important thing is that everyone is in attendance. I want you to spread the word all over social media. I want you to get everyone you know and bring them in. This is going to be an open gala for as many people as we can get to attend, and when we’re there, we’ll have every single person open the app and start an account. That being said, if you’re in a relationship, now’s the time to explain that to your partner.”

“You want us to open an account on a dating app, even if we’re married?” a man asks.

I nod. “I do. If your marriage can’t survive a work experiment, you might be with the wrong person. You could even try and find your spouse on there and see if you can guess who they are. Make a game of it. Or open an account and leave it alone. The point is, we need a strong boost of initial numbers, and I’ll need every single one of you to support that if we’re to be successful.”

I glance around the room. There is more silence. Funny. The floor often sounds so boisterous and fun when I’m not around. Do these people realize that I’m the reason they have a job?

Perhaps not.

“Are there any other questions? I will provide more information as it becomes available, but I wanted all of us to come together well ahead of time so we can plan. The event will take place the weekend before Valentine’s Day. It will give singles a chance to get to know one another before the big event. Perhaps we can even market the opportunity to meet and reveal the surprise on that day. We’re selling romance here. Intrigue. Personality before looks.”

“Is there a dress code?” Lucy asks.

Her cheeks blossom with red as all eyes turn to her, and I shrug.

“Not yet, but likely upscale. Think ball gowns. That may change. I’ll keep you posted if it does.”

My gaze skims the room once more, and I notice Sasha looking down. Not in a shy way.

She’s texting under the table. In the middle of one of my meetings.

Oh hell no.

“Hey, Sasha. Is your mother dying?”

Her head shoots up, and her green eyes are wide as saucers as she drops her phone on the table. “Uh, no, Mr. Knight.”

“Ah, then your house must be on fire, yes?”

“Um, no. The apartment is fine.”

“So happy to hear it. Can you tell us all, then, why you’re texting during a meeting and wasting everyone else’s time? We’d all really love to hear what excuse you have for that.”

Her mouth hangs open like a fish’s, and I feel a grim sense of satisfaction in putting her in her place. There’s much to be said for public shaming. Anyone I’ve done it to has never exhibited that behavior again.

Works like a charm.

“Perhaps you can pass your phone to the head of the table, and I can read what you’ve been writing. I’m sure we’d all love to hear what’s more important than being present in a work meeting with your boss at the head of the table. Don’t you think, everyone?”

Her face blanches at that comment. “I was texting my… my sister. She’s flying in tonight and the plane got delayed, so I was letting her know that I can still get her.”

“And that was a matter of vital importance, was it?”

“It was to my sister,” she mumbles.

“I see. I suppose we don’t need to see that exchange then. Does anyone have any questions about what we’ve come here to discuss? Otherwise, we can end this meeting, so Sasha can get back to more important things.”

A few people clear their throats. Sasha’s mouth is drawn tight, her gaze glued to the table. Her skin color has gone from stark white to puce red, and she nearly matches the color of her hair.

That’s what happens when you don’t pay attention at one of Booker Knight’s meetings. After a few moments of silence, I slap my hands on the table. A few people jump.

“That’s that, then. I’ll get you more details when I have them. Until then, keep up the good work.”

Sasha dashes out of the room as fast as her black heels can take her. The rest of the group exits shortly thereafter, leaving me alone in the conference room. I pull out my cell and see that Angel started to type something.

“Let’s see here. I think maybe I’ll…”

I try and scroll, but there’s nothing else there. I fight back a stab of disappointment as I tuck my phone away. Maybe she was just busy and got interrupted.

I’m looking forward to exactly what she has to say, when she gets a chance to finish that thought.