“Where are you?” I ask.
“At the hotel bar.”
“Trolling for your next victim?” I tease.
“Nobody here has what I want.”
I bite my lip as I listen to him.
“You have what I want, Claire.”
“You’re not going to get all sentimental and needy on me, are you?”
“I don’t do sentimental and needy.” He chuckles. “Down and dirty is more my thing.”
I smile goofily. “I don’t know if I can change my flights.”
“I’ll organize our jet to pick you up.”
“You have a plane?” I frown.
“Company plane.”
I stay silent as I think.
“Well?”
“Thank you for the roses,” I whisper to change the subject.
“That’s okay. They were being thrown out from reception, and I didn’t want to waste them. My good deed for the day.”
I smile at his appalling lie.
“Come on, Anderson; don’t make me beg.”
“Fine.”
“Fine . . . as in it’s a chore?” He scoffs. “At least act enthusiastic.”
“I can’t wait to spend the weekend underneath you, Mr. Miles.”
He laughs out loud. “That a girl. I’ll call you tomorrow with the flight times.”
“Okay.”
“Oh . . . and, Claire,” he says, as if it’s an afterthought.
“Yes.”
“Do your Kegel exercises tonight. I want that pussy nice and tight.”
I burst out laughing. “You are an idiot.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Goodbye, Tristan.” I smile.
The phone goes dead.