A Gentleman's Affair (13 page)

“You called, sire?” she jokes in her
smart-ass insubordinate way that we have all come to know and love.
Patrice has become the ambassador of sarcasm around here, and one
hell of an assistant, so I don’t mind her smart-ass remarks one
bit. I actually like when she calls me “sire”.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I did,” I reply,
shaking my head as I laugh. “I need you to find me a flight to
Vegas, possibly for two. Check flights for this evening,
please.”

“Right away, sir.” She curtsies and begins
to laugh herself as she goes back to her desk.

“Hilarious, Patrice. Thank you,” I call out,
muttering “smart-ass” under my breath. Rebekah quickly responds to
my text, explaining that she can join me but not until Thursday
morning. Perfect. That gives me tomorrow to take care of
business.

I text her back and send Patrice an email
with the details, just to be a dick…she is only ten feet away from
me. Not a minute later, I can hear her laughing as she mutters
“jerk” under her breath and begins speaking to someone on the phone
about booking the flights.

Now, to return Russ’s email to let him know
that I will be there and check my other emails. Four from Scarlett.
I open the first one and see seven links with a message at the top
explaining that the links are all for possible carpet ideas for the
lobby. I open the first three but it all looks the same to me, so I
give her a call to discuss.

“Scarlett, it’s your favorite client
calling.” I smirk at my witty greeting.

“Oh, Mr. Jones?” she teases back,
laughing.

“If by Mr. Jones you mean the devilishly
handsome guy who owns the beach-front hotel, then yes,” I reply
playfully.

“That’s the one,” she responds, still
laughing. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I am looking at the links you sent
and am making an attempt to picture them with the swatches and
paint ideas. It’s all becoming a pile of colors in my head that do
not look good.” She probably thinks that I am an idiot at this
point, with no decorating skills whatsoever. Well it’s true, and I
am very proud of that fact, thank you very much.

“I had a feeling that my emails might
overwhelm you again. Would you like to just go and see everything
with me?”

“Everything, as in…?”

“Carpet, furniture, draperies light
fixtures...everything.”

“Shopping?” I ask, afraid that I just
sounded like a bigger idiot.

“Yes, Donovan. It would involve shopping.”
She is laughing at me again. I begin to break out in a cold sweat.
Hives quickly take over my entire body. Shopping? Oh no, here comes
the panic attack. (I had you going, didn’t I? I actually don’t mind
shopping.)

“I can do that. It may be easier if I can
see things in person,” I answer quickly, a bit shocked by the
excitement I am feeling at the prospect of seeing her again so
soon. I really need to stop that. We are doing business together,
nothing more. I do believe that I just invited Rebekah to Las Vegas
a few minutes ago. “Get a grip, Donovan,” I say under my
breath.

“Great. How is tomorrow for you?” she asks,
sounding hopeful.

“I’m actually going to be in Vegas on
business until Friday. Will Monday be alright?” I ask as I check my
appointment book.

“Monday works for me. Enjoy your trip, Mr.
Jones.” We both have another laugh at our little joke, and I thank
her before hanging up.

“Patrice?” I call out to reception. “How is
the flight-booking coming along?”

“Check your email, sire,” she shouts
back.

“Thank you,” I answer, shaking my head. So
efficient, yet so sarcastic. I love that.

I open the email and see that I am booked on
a flight leaving at eight tonight. I glance at the clock on the
wall to see how much time I have. Shit, two hours. I shut down my
computer and walk out to scold Patrice for this.

“Two hours?” I use my bossiest boss-voice on
her, but it rarely works.

“Does the man who loves to live life on the
edge have a problem? Go throw some briefs in a duffle bag and I’ll
drive you to the airport, ya big baby.” And she turns back to her
computer screen, waving me off.

“It’s just cutting it a little close,
Patrice. I’ll go pack, and after you drop me off, you’re fired.” I
smirk, trying not to laugh as I walk out of the office.

After a quick shower, I get ready to go
downstairs and meet Russ and Mike for dinner. We decide to check
out the new restaurant at The Venetian, where I am staying. I enter
the elevator and send Rebekah a quick text to say good night,
anticipating a late night with the frat boys tonight. Russ and Mike
always party while we are in Vegas.

Dinner begins with shots. We briefly discuss
tomorrow’s interview before the next round of shots arrive. I hate
to always be the voice of reason with these two, but I have to
remind them that we need to be in good form tomorrow afternoon to
represent Pisa. But they don’t listen and order another round.

After our meal, Russ and Mike decide to head
out to a strip club to go blow some cash and drink more. I tell
them that I’m just going to go back to my room, but after some
serious harassing they convince me to come along. Drag me along is
more like it.

So we catch a cab and off we go to their
favorite “titty money pit”, as I like to call them. Don’t get me
wrong, I love to see naked girls slinking around a pole as much as
the next guy. Hell, the old me would be first in line to fuck the
hottest stripper there, but I just don’t believe in throwing my
hard-earned money away on them. Never did. I can see boobs for free
anytime that I want.

The drinks and lap dances are in full force
within minutes of arriving at The Diamond Club. The frat twins even
bought a lap dance for me, since I wasn’t about to shell out one
cent for one myself. The club is known for having the most
beautiful, exotic strippers in Vegas but again, this is just not my
thing.

Jade, the stripper with incredible double Ds
who is now gyrating in my lap, has long silky black hair, and she
keeps whipping it in my face. Her bronzed and over-glittered tits
are mere centimeters away from my face, and I have to admit, the
sight of them does lessen the sting of the hair assault
somewhat.

Suddenly there is a commotion next to me. I
look over and Mike is being dragged out of the club by a bouncer
the size of a large brick wall. Fuck! This is why I never go out
with these two. Fucking drama every single time. Jade hops off of
my lap, stepping aside to allow the bouncer to pass. Mike is
kicking and screaming all the way out the door. I look over at Russ
and roll my eyes, asking what happened. He explains that Mike
poured his shot on the stripper’s tits and licked it off before she
had a chance to stop him. What an asshole. Everyone knows that this
is a strictly no touch zone.

We follow them out and are told never to
return. Ever. Eighty-sixed from a fucking strip club! Great. This
is not what I need right now: a bad reputation in the city where my
next hotel is about to open. Fucking Mike! I will put a call into
the owner tomorrow and clear this up. At least they didn’t call the
police. Then I would be fuming. This shit I can blow off…

Waking up with a hangover has never been my
idea of a good time. I’m trying my best to forget about last night.
The frat boy fucking twins and the strip club. I’m getting too old
for this shit. After a long, hot shower and a quick breakfast in my
suite, I put on my black suit, dark grey shirt unbuttoned at the
top, and my Amedeo Testoni shoes. I call down to the desk for a car
to take me to the hotel site for the interview. Russ and Mike had
better be on their best behavior today or I will fucking kill them.
They are usually professional when it counts at least so I won’t
worry…too much.

The car pulls up to the site and I see that
Russ and Mike are already there talking to the photographer and a
woman that I assume is the reporter for the paper. I get out of the
car and walk over to join them, introducing myself and already
feeling the heat from the July Las Vegas weather beating down on
me. I hope this goes quick. I need to get out of this suit
already.

We pose for pictures in front of the rough
structure that will soon be Pisa. I take charge of answering the
questions that the reporter asks, seeing that this is my project
and Russ and Mike are only investors. I explain to the reporter
about my mom being from Northern Italy, how I conceived the idea,
and how we got to where we are today. I must admit the attention
for the hotel is exciting. Now all we can do is wait for it to be
complete.

As the driver takes me back to The Venetian,
I get a call from Rebekah. She won’t be making it out to Vegas
after all. She explains that she has a client with a horse that has
gone into labor and she simply can’t leave right now.

This is long distance dating at its best.
Who knows when we will be able to see each other now. Well, work
comes first, I do understand that. But I have a feeling that this
is going to be more frustrating than I had anticipated.

I call Patrice and tell her to move up my
return flight to tonight, clearly no point in staying now. I think
that I’ll check in with Scarlett to see if she can fit me in sooner
for that shopping trip for La Fuga.

I must admit that the thought of seeing her
always seems to bring a shit-eating grin to my face. I know, I
know. The fucking rule. Maybe I’ll take her off the job so that I
can date her.

Bad idea. A true gentleman would never do
such a thing. Ugh.

No dating Scarlett, I remind
myself…again.

Chapter Thirteen

~Long distance dating sucks~

As much as I love being in Vegas, it always
feels good to be home.

I can’t help but still feel a little
disappointed that Rebekah couldn't make the trip and am now
beginning to think that this long distance shit will never work.
Besides, there is the matter of sex. Phone sex doesn't really do it
for me.

After exchanging a few emails with Scarlett,
I decide to send an email to Rebekah before I leave the office.

Rebekah,

I hope that everything went well with the delivery
and that you’re doing well. I must admit, I was pretty disappointed
when you had to cancel, but understand why you did of course.

Looking forward to a rain-check soon. 

I’m about to head out for the day. I’ll give you a
call later.

Donovan

Scarlett was able to move a few things
around to meet for the shopping excursion, so we will be spending
the day scouring Los Angeles for furniture, draperies, and
carpet.

Let’s face it…I’ll really be there just to
nod my head every now and then. But I suppose that she does need my
input, and I will make damn sure that beer is included at some
point.

We meet at a furniture store on Melrose. Or,
should I say, a huge furniture store on Melrose. I’m overwhelmed
from the second that we enter the store. Scarlett can sense my
fear/hatred of shopping and assures me in a very sweet,
condescending, yet sexy way, of course, that she won’t be leaving
my side.

Damn her for being so fucking adorable

I can’t help but laugh at that. Seriously, I
think that this will actually be fun. How could it not? I will be
spending the day with Scarlett…

We walk down rows and rows of couches to
start. We need to choose some for the lobby and some for the
suites. Right away I am drawn to the black leather set. Scarlett
quickly dismisses it. My bad, I guess. I thought that it was good,
but I was wrong.

Hanging back now, I allow her to take the
reigns. She points out a cream-colored set with multi-colored
pillows. She says that it’s “beachy” and will suit the hotel very
well. I hate it.

“This color reminds me of something you
might see in a doctor’s office,” I laugh. I scour the room,
pointing out a set in a rich chocolate brown across the room.
“Compromise?”

“Oooh, I like that.”

I follow behind her as we walk toward the
obvious choice, meaning…no cream couches in La Fuga. We sit down on
the larger piece at the same time, looking at each other,
nodding.

“Sold!” I blurt out playfully. “This is good
for the lobby, right?”

“I think so. See? You have an eye for this
after all, Mr. Jones,” she teases back.

“I doubt that. I just hate the color
‘cream’. It’s not really a color,” I say, laughing. “So, what’s
next?”

“Well, we need a coffee table for the lobby
and those don’t come in cream, so we’re safe,” she winks and stands
up, summoning me to follow.

“Cute, Scarlett.” I follow like the clueless
shopper that I am.

We choose a coffee table, new headboards,
couches and floor lamps for the suites. Scarlett is making this
painless, much to my surprise. I suggest that we break before
moving on any further. I am in desperate need of a beer. Shopping
is hard work. We give a sales associate our extremely large order,
and after my credit card stops smoking from the hit, we leave in
search of a place to take a break.

We find a small café on Melrose just down
the street from the furniture store. The place is empty, seeing
that it’s late afternoon. I assume that the lunch crowd has all
gone back out to shop. Here I am again, sitting across the table
from a beautiful girl…that is not Rebekah. A girl that I’m not
allowed to be attracted to, a girl that I’m not allowed to ask out.
A girl that has the most piercing eyes that I’ve ever seen. But
again, I digress. 

We order. Beer and Cobb salads. That’s the
thing about these small cafes on Melrose. Food for birds with food
for elephant prices. Hey I am not complaining, I can afford it. I
just think that a salad should be under twenty dollars…

So, we eat. We drink. We discuss throw rugs.
And I’m about to throw this salad. Someone bring me a steak,
please!