She looks so seductive as she twists her hair around her finger, taking a small sip of champagne at the same time. It’s even more magnetic because I know she’s not playing me. She’s real all the way through.
“Maybe I don’t want to be an angel tonight,” she murmurs, looking me directly in the eyes. “Maybe I want to be… the opposite.”
I swallow, fists clenched at my sides. But not in rage, not in a tennis-ball-destroying tantrum. This is pure lust. Pure hunger.
“I wish I could snap my fingers and pause this entire room.”
“Like Professor X inThe Last Stand?” She shoots back.
I step closer. Cock still rock-hard, heart pounding like it’s trying to jump out of my chest. “I don’t know what’s hotter. That you used that reference, or that you used the movie’s proper name.”
She grins vivaciously. “I think we’d have to get to the Cove to figure out what’sreallyhot.”
“How about the closest we can get right now?” I say, nodding down the corridor.
She frowns. Have I offended her? She doesn’t want a quick tussle in some hidden room in an event hall. She deserves more than that. She deserves silk sheets in a penthouse suite, room service on demand, and all the time in the world to let our pleasure flow.
But no—she’s looking behind me.
I turn.
Dammit.
It’s one of those women my Dakota refers to assupermodels, as though long legs and appetite control have anything on her curves. This is Crystal Sagar, one of my biggest shareholders, who always takes any opportunity to remind me she’s myboss, as she once put it.
She strides toward us, champagne flute held high, head tipped back as though preemptively turning her nose up at us.
CHAPTER 13
DAKOTA
The woman is… sublime. She looks almost exactly like my elf avatar in Empire’s Fall, except that she’s got lovely copper skin. She wears an Indian-coded dress, with a sari flavor, and gorgeously applied makeup. I feel about two feet tall as she approaches.
I attempt to chastise myself. I’m not some shrinking wallflower. But it’s hard to feel irresistible next to a woman as stunning as this.
“One of my biggest shareholders,” Jack says out of the corner of his mouth, sounding pissed. “Crystal Sagar. Brace yourself.”
“They keep the lights on,” I murmur.
He nods with a sigh. “True.”
“Jackson, darling,” the woman says in an upper class British accent. “What a lovely little shindig you’re having here. And how clever of me, hmm, to find my own way after you failed to send an invite?”
Jackson takes her hand and shakes it briefly. I can tell he wants to snatch his hand away. But she holds it firmly.
I want to scream,You’re ruining our moment, bitch. Is that fair? No. Do I give a fuck? Nope.
“Where’s my hug, hmm?”
“I like to keep things professional,” Jack says.
“Even with silly old me?”
She pulls him into an embrace, spreading her hands over his back. I bite the inside of my cheek while keeping a smile firmly planted on my face. All my big talk about not getting attached—poof, gone.
“This is Dakota Vale,” Jack says, stepping back so we’re standing side by side. Like a couple. “She’s one of our biggest stream?—”
“So, darling, what’s the scoop on all this overtime?”