“Get your ass down right fucking now.”
Dropping my head forward, I open my eyes to see Mr. Townsend standing there. He looks as hard as ever, with a jaw that could crack stone. For once in my life I’m actually taller than him because I’m up on the table. It’s not often a man towers over me with thanks to my height and my love of heels, but he does. There was no way to miss it, not when he hovered over my every move while I worked for him. He acted like I was an incompetent moron who didn’t know how to do their job. He gave me projects I could do in my sleep, and still micromanaged me. He never trusted me with anything, and it annoyed me every second of the past thirty days.
This past month has been daunting. At first, I bit my tongue because he was my boss, but then a few times I couldn’t help it and made a few snide remarks. When he seemed to like it, I decided to ignore him. It is difficult to do because even though I have the urge to kick him in the balls a few times a day, he is attractive. No. ‘Attractive’ isn’t the right word. He’s hard and gruff—so not traditionally handsome. The attraction I feel for him rubs on my nerves. I feel this draw to him, but I hate it. How can I want a man who thinks I’m a nitwit?
“Make me, Sir.” I throw out the title he hates so much. Every time I use it, he corrects me. Well, he’s not my boss anymore, so the most he can do is kick me out of his casino. I’ll be leaving in the morning anyway, so what do I care.
“Tiffany. Down,” he snaps at Tiff, but he keeps his dark eyes on me. Like everyone around here, she quickly jumps to his command.
“Fine.” I roll my eyes before awkwardly getting down from the table top. I plop into my chair, pretending Charles isn’t standing there. Picking up my drink, I take three big gulps, finishing it off. Why don’t I do this more often? My whole body feels warm and fuzzy. All the stress and strain I normally carry seem to leave my system with each drink I take.
Like always when I ignore him, he pushes himself into my space. “We have a seven o’clock meeting, and you're three sheets to the wind, Ms. Burch.” His voice is thick with irritation. Like he had to come down here and babysit me. This happens every time I stop somewhere after work and hang out for a little while. He always pops up and starts barking orders at whoever I’m with. Either that or asking me a million and one questions about his itinerary, questions he could easily find the answers to if he just opened his stupid phone and looked. A few times he would even track me down when I was having dinner, and join me without asking, just to ask me pointless questions to things he already knew!
“No, you have a meeting at seven,” I respond, correcting him. He’s not my boss anymore. Nope. Contract complete. A contract I only agreed to because the Cortez brothers asked me, and I’d do almost anything for them. They came into my life when I needed someone, and we made our own little makeshift family. We may not share blood, but they are my brothers. I worked as their assistant for six years, so when they came to me about taking up a thirty-day work contract with Mr. Townsend, I agreed. I could tell it meant something to them, and that he must have been holding something over their heads. I didn't ask and they didn't tell me. Knowing he blackmailed them only made me more pissed at the man. But it doesn't matter now. Time's up. I did my thirty days, and I’m free to go. I don’t have to play nice anymore.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Where I go you go.” He’s pissed and standing so close I can feel the heat of his body behind my chair. He did make me go everywhere with him because he didn’t trust me to do anything right. He had to oversee every detail of everything I did. I look over at Tiff and roll my eyes again. But she just keeps looking between us with a shocked look on her face. I don't blame her for not jumping in; she still works here.
“Not anymore. Contract is up.” My face is smug as I turn to look into dark eyes. Something I noticed a lot of people avoid, but I don’t. He’s closer than I thought, leaning over where I sit. The high-top chair brings me to eye level with him, and I watch as his eyes drop to my mouth.
“Sugar,” I say, referring to the sugar he probably sees on my lips. I’ve been licking it off all the martinis I ordered tonight.
“Sugar?” He mimics me, pulling his eyes from my lips.
I don’t know what possesses me, maybe the underlying attraction I feel towards him, or maybe the alcohol. Hell, maybe I just want to get a rise out of him and see what he’ll do. Mostly, I know it’s because, come tomorrow, I’ll likely never see him again. Vegas is a little city at times, but I can avoid crossing paths with him. I think all those reasons combined have me pressing my lips against his.
At first, I don’t think he’s going to respond, his lips firm and unyielding against mine. But when I go to pull away with embarrassment, I feel one of his hands snake into my hair, grabbing a fistful and holding me in place as he makes the kiss his own.
It isn’t soft, not that I thought a kiss from him would be. No, everything about him is hard and forceful, just like he’s kissing me now. Taking control, he grips my hair tighter, and a moan falls from my lips, making them part for him. His tongue pushes in as he hungrily eats at my mouth. I’m so overtaken by the kiss that I’m not even sure I’m kissing him back.
Too soon, he pulls away from my lips, only to go to my neck. He trails open-mouthed kisses up my throat to my ear, like he can't get enough of me. He uses his hold on my hair to expose my neck and to take what he wants. My body seems to come to life, and a feeling washes over me like I’ve never felt before. Desire. It’s pure need, and something I’m not used to feeling.
“Holy shit,” I hear Tiff say, and it breaks my lust-filled bubble.
I come back to reality and realize I’m in a bar with everyone staring at us. After all, the owner of the casino just went at a girl in the middle of the room. It’s not like Charles is a man to be missed. He takes up a lot of space, and everyone knows who he is. He’s one of the richest men in Vegas.
In the time I’d worked him, I’d never seen Charles with a woman. Oh, they threw themselves at him all right, but he always acted like it was a nuisance. Maybe he didn’t mix business and pleasure, or maybe he’s married.
I’ve never seen a ring on his finger, but this is Vegas. Men here think they can do whatever they want, and a lot of the wives don’t mind as long as they get to keep living the life they’re used to. If I ever got married, I’d want to be my husband’s everything. Like my brothers are with their soon-to-be wife, Stella.
I push at his chest, and he breaks away from my neck, releasing my hair.
“It’s time to go.” It’s his classic ‘do as I say’ voice that he uses on all his employees. Once again, he has forgotten I’m not his anymore.
“No.’ I turn back around in my chair, dismissing him. I grab my drink, but then realize I’m holding an empty glass. Did I drink it all already? Huh.
“Come on, Mandy, let’s head out.” Tiff grabs her purse, and I can only bet Charles is shooting her a look behind me.
“Why? I’m having fun, and he can’t make me leave unless he kicks me out of his casino. Are you kicking me out of your casino?” I have to turn to look at him again, and I can't help the arrow of desire that shoots to my pussy when I see the red smudge of lipstick I left all over his mouth. He’s always so brooding, and I can’t help but love that I smeared it on him, dulling the effect of his sternness somewhat. My mouth must look the same.