For her part, Cameron seemed to feel much the same about him. She chatted and joked with him more easily, lightening the pressure and mundanity of their work by simply being there with him. Smith had the distinct impression that somehow, despite their sordid history, they were becoming... well, friends.
Which was just ridiculous. Smith had friends, and he had women, but never before had those two circles overlapped for him. He was finding the parameters of their new relationship even more frustrating than they had been before. He just really didn’t know what to do about it now.
Intuitive as she was, Cameron had seen straight through the momentary passion of their kiss on the bridge, to the underlying issues of their work relationship and his father’s inappropriate meddling in Smith’s affairs that were hidden beneath. She’d been the one to back off, not him, and that fact bothered him as much as it made him relieved. This woman was doing things to his resolve to keep his work and private lives separate that Smith didn’t fully understand himself, and it was driving him mad.
Smith’s eyes snapped open as he was hit with a sudden idea. He stood up, draining the rest of the scotch from the glass as he reached into his pocket for his cell phone.
What he needed was a distraction. Something to take his mind off of the redheaded temptress that was disrupting the meticulous order of his life, and he needed it now.
Smith scrolled through his contacts, selecting his friend Jake’s number as he wandered out of the study and down the hall toward his bedroom so he could change clothes.
Jake answered on the third ring.
“Smith! What’s up, man? It’s been a while.”
Jake was talking loudly, so as to be heard over what sounded like club music in the background, which Smith took as a good sign.
“I’m looking to have a little fun tonight, mate,” Smith said, sliding on a pair of black boots. “You know where that might be, yeah?”
“Sure, man. Come on down to Ninth Circle. I just got here, and I gotta say, the place is crawling with hot pussy tonight.”
“Perfect,” Smith said, going over to the mirror to check his hair. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
Smith got off the phone, turning back to the bed to grab his leather jacket from where he’d tossed it earlier. He slid it on and headed for the elevator doors of his penthouse, prepared to do whatever it took to get Cameron out of his head, if only for a night.
“I love your accent,”the brunette that was currently sitting on his lap whispered in his ear, her breath hot against his face. “It’s so sexy,” she purred seductively, trailing a long red fingernail down the side of his neck.
The contact made Smith’s skin crawl, and not in a good way as the woman was probably intending. He reached up, clasping her hand in his, unable to go on letting her touch him, but not quite big enough of an arsehole to just dump her on the floor outright.
“How about I go get us a couple more drinks?” he murmured, deftly sliding out from beneath her and standing.
He released her hand, looking down at the nameless woman sitting alone in the booth he’d just vacated. Her eyes were dark and full of carnal promise as she gazed back up at him, her painted lips pursed in a playful pout.
She nodded, her eyes traveling up and down his body, leaving little to the imagination about what her intentions with him were upon his return.
“Hurry back,” she said, leaning forward just enough to give him an eyeful of her sizeable cleavage in the slinky black dress she was wearing.
Smith repressed the urge to roll his eyes at the thinly veiled attempt to bait him, and turned away from her without another word as he made his way toward the bar at the front of the club.
Smith had been to Ninth Circle countless times before, but this time was different, he admitted to himself. The press of scantily clad bodies on the dance floor and the sounds of drunken conversation over the loud pulsing music didn’t hold their usual appeal. The acrid smells of sweat, sex, and spilled alcohol lingered heavily in the air, making him wrinkle his nose with distaste.
Had this place always seemed so... desperate? Or was Smith just drunk enough to start feeling profoundly sorry for himself?
Smith sidled up to the bar, preparing to wave down the bartender for another drink, when his eyes landed on a head of bright red hair standing a few feet down from him.
Smith felt his heart lurch in his chest with a mixture of surprise and giddy anticipation.
It can’t be Cameron, can it? I mean, what are the chances…
He was just about to walk over to investigate for himself, when the woman turned around to face his direction.
“Sir, what can I get you to drink?”
Smith was vaguely aware that the bartender was talking to him, but he was too overwhelmed with disappointment at the revelation that the redheaded woman wasn’t Cameron to care.
Did I want it to be her? Wasn’t the whole point of coming out and getting hammered so that I could forget about her to begin with?
Christ, what is wrong with me?
“Sir?”
“He’ll have a Four Horsemen; make it two of them,” a male voice answered for him. “You’ll have to excuse my friend here. He’s easily distracted by pretty things.”
An arm came down heavily across his shoulders, forcing Smith to tear his eyes away from the redhead as he turned to face Jake and the unamused bartender. The bartender rolled his eyes and went off to make their drinks as Jake chuckled at his own joke.
“I never pegged you for the sort to stare wistfully at women from across the bar,” Jake teased as the bartender brought over their drinks, setting them down silently and moving on to serve other patrons. Jake lifted one of the glasses, taking a sip as he eyed the woman he’d caught Smith looking at. “You got a thing for redheads now or something?”
Smith shook off Jake’s arm, reaching for his own drink. “Fuck off,” he grumbled, taking a large gulp.
Jake laughed, playfully holding up his hands in surrender. “Easy, man, I was only kidding.” His expression sobered a little as he crossed his arms, leaning against the bar as he hooked an eyebrow at Smith. “What’s got you so pissy? When I left you earlier, you had that hot chick wrapped around you like a fucking python. Did she leave without you or what?”
Smith shook his head, his eyes studying the grains of the wooden bar. “No, I’ve just got... work shit on my mind.”
Jake laughed again. “Yeah, I kind of figured as much when you called me out of nowhere. But, you know, a beautiful woman all over me usually does the trick when I’m trying to take my mind off of things.”
Smith couldn’t very well tell Jake that his “work shit” involved him being obsessed over an employee he had slept with, and that he couldn’t take his damn mind off of her because he kept thinking he saw her face everywhere he went.
So instead, he just shrugged, knocking back the rest of his drink in one go. “I don’t know, Jake. I think I’m just gonna go back home.”
“Aw, come on! The night is still young,” Jake protested, clapping his hand on Smith’s shoulder. “There’s still plenty of time to forget whatever’s gotten you so worked up.”
Smith fished his phone out of his pocket to look at the time. Jake was right, it wasn’t even midnight yet.