He winked. I felt my pulse rising. Right now I couldn’t think of a single reason to turn his offer down, but I had to get ahold of myself. This was what Zayden did, and I was smarter than the women who fell for it.
“Sure, we can meet each other’s parents and raise some children after,” I laughed. It wasn’t convincing laughter. I got up before things could get out of hand. “I’ll eat this later. Have a nice day, Mr. Sinclair,” I said and walked away without looking back.
This must have been what a tornado felt like.
Chapter Two
ZAYDEN
I looked at the girl lying next to me with a mixture of confusion and amusement. I was pretty sure she was faking sleep. Just like last night, she had pretended to be too intoxicated to go home, even when I suggested I would have my chauffeur drive her in one of the limos. Girls like this got on my nerves, and I was starting to regret taking her back to my place.
Not that I wasn’t used to girls clinging on like this; usually, however, after a good fuck I would just tell them that I was “emotionally unavailable.” There would be some crying, but eventually those words would drive women to flee without much egging on my part. I let out an involuntary snort. Women. All I knew was it worked. Anything worked. Everything worked.
Most of the time, anyway. Very rarely did women deny my advances, and Aria Roberts had been the first in countless years to so casually turn me down. It excited me to maddening degrees; it had gotten far too easy for me to get women and I needed a good challenge. But last night, I was so frustrated that I picked up the first pair of sexy boobs that flashed in my face at the Tavern. Boring personality, if she had one at all, and an even more boring lay. I had half the mind to finish myself off in the middle of it, but felt sorry for the poor soul. Another reason it pissed me off that she was still lying comfortably in my king-sized bed.
“Wake up!” I tapped her shoulders. “Quick! It’s time to go home.”
She opened her eyes slowly and got out of the covers, still naked. She did have nice breasts; maybe it wasn’t the worst pick-up ever after all.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, ruffling her hair. Trying to be cute. Women. “I didn’t realize I overslept. I was…”
Yeah, the breasts were really something. She was rambling on but I didn’t catch a single word, or care to. I felt myself get harder watching her nipples and just threw her back into the bed. She seemed way too excited about it; I’d have to deal with it later, but for now, I just grabbed her and closed my eyes.
I thrust myself deep inside her, picturing Aria Roberts’ tiny body and perfect little ass in my mind. Fuck.
***
“Mrs. Sinclair asked me about your whereabouts this morning,” my driver Ned said.
I grunted. My mother had a way of getting on my nerves.
“Tell her I’m in Bali for the rest of the month.”
“I think she plans to surprise you with a visit,” he said apologetically.
Ned was one of the only people in the world I would trust with my life. He had been with our family for over two decades, and helped me keep it together when my dad passed away, six years ago today. It was the day of my MBA graduation, and I was supposed to leave for a vacation to Spain that night; I had no real plans, no rush to hurry into a career. He had a stroke, and all of a sudden I was left without a father and without my youth, and with the South National Bank empire as compensation for my loss. Every single day of my life since that day six years ago has been dedicated to growing what my dad had built, to honor his legacy, to take his company further than his wildest imagination.
This left no room for friends or any kind of social life outside of what the business demanded, and I couldn’t be happier about it. There would be parties and overseas cruises and models in penthouses, but all for the business, all to convince shareholders and investors that I made them happy and that their money was best suited in my expert hands. The models in penthouses were the only mildly pleasurable part. Generally, though, any social situation was an arena for manipulation and cunning, and just another way to build on my dad’s empire. People tended to hold me back and there was no room in my life for a pause.
Ned was, in some ways, my only friend.
“It’s okay. I’ll take care of it, Ned.” I sighed. “You don’t worry about it.”
When I got to my desk, I was welcomed by a slew of emails. The union in the Nashville branch was organizing a third strike this year and had closed up for business. What a bunch of fucking babies. I was all for fair wages and benefits; so much so that I had been invited to a local TED talk to address the importance of solidarity and understanding between company executives and the lowest level employees. I turned down the invite – only people who don’t practice have time to preach – but was subsequently featured in ZEN magazine for running the only set of banks in the nation that paid even the cleaning staf
f over twice the minimum wage. The first union strike hadn’t phased me—it would have almost moved me if I were capable of such a thing—and I had raised companywide salary. The second time and onwards it had just started to look like they were testing how far they could push me. I felt a tremor of anger as I dialed Tom, the Nashville VP.
“Shut it down,” I said sharply.
Tom huffed and puffed some words that faintly resembled coherence, but my attention drifted away from the problem at hand as I saw Aria Roberts walk into the building and towards the teller’s booth. She had a fascinating body. Not stunning in any traditional sense. I had fucked far too many supermodels to be excited by infinite legs and plastic breasts. Aria was what could only be defined as cute. Cute in the sexiest way possible. She had a petite figure and couldn’t be much taller than 5 foot 3, if that, and it suited her heart-shaped face and bright, brown eyes. Her long red hair covered half of her tiny body, ending slightly above her lower back. Her breasts were on the smaller side, but all I needed was a mouthful. There was a mouthful there for sure, and plenty to spare. What really stood out was her perfectly round ass. It was bigger than most of her and I wasn’t sure how she could fit that curve in her small body and still walk with a stride. I was getting hard just looking at her through my glass door.
“Zay? You there?”
I snapped out of it. “What? Uh… I don’t wanna hear it Tom, I don’t wanna hear any of it. Just shut it down, alright?”
My eyes drifted towards Aria again. When would I get the opportunity to throw that little body into the air and fuck her brains out? Would I ever? The fact that I had to ask myself that question surprised me. Never before had it been a question of if but when, with any woman: actresses, models, athletes—they all gave in eventually. But I couldn’t seduce a teller in my own bank! They usually begged me to take them any way I liked, anywhere I liked. Some just gave in right after their first interview here – they never actually made it to work afterwards, though. I didn’t do repeats and I didn’t like the idea of employing girls that would be too distracted fantasizing about me to get their jobs done. I usually sent them to work for a business partner or another shareholder with the highest recommendations, so I wasn’t exactly making them suffer. That would be Aria’s fate too, and perhaps the knowledge of that made her shy away from me.
Or maybe she really, truly, genuinely had no interest in sleeping with me. The way she shrugged off all my advances with confident scorn and polite laughter surely suggested that was the case. That fascinated me endlessly. She had told me she was single, yet she seemed to turn men down right and left. I knew she was a junior in college. Perhaps between the coursework and working almost full-time hours at the bank she simply did not have time for some fun. Maybe if I gave her the right kind of incentive and somehow assured her that she will be compensated for her company more generously than she was for her job…