Gloria's Secret (11 page)

He leaned into me, placing his hands on the bench for support. “I’m going to come inside you now and give you an orgasm that’s going to blow that uptight mind of yours to pieces.”

“Please,” I begged.

He grinned wickedly. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk. I’ll be carrying you back to your room.”

Oh, yes! Handicap me!

Balancing on one hand, he used the other to position his pulsing member. I felt his hot cock at my doorway to pleasure. A thrust away from penetrating me, there was a loud pounding on the fogged-up shower door.

“What’s going on in there?”

I recognized the voice immediately. It was the old man who had gone for a swim.

“Fuck!” muttered Jaime. “I’m not going to rush this.” He leaped up from the bench and stormed out the shower, leaving me tied up and throbbing. I assumed he was going to return right away with our robes.
Hurry!

The door re-opened. I gasped. The little old man, shuffled into the shower. His skin was prune-like from his long swim, and a towel was wrapped around his waist. It fell to the wet tiled floor upon seeing me, naked and bound to the handicapped railing. He was not a pretty sight.

“I want whatever he had,” he said brightly.

Oh, fuck! He wasn’t just an old man. He was a dirty old man! Oh God! Had Jaime abandoned me? Left me helplessly stranded with this horny geezer?

My panic button sounded. Just as my mind skipped to the worst possible scenario, Jaime burst through the shower door. He was wearing his beltless robe and had mine draped over his arm. His large balls and cock, now in a relaxed state, peeked out of the robe opening.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said calmly. “My girlfriend needs to take her meds.”

Girlfriend? Meds?

He quickly unbound me and helped me put on my robe. I was mortified every which way. Before I could say a word, he swept me up into his arms. The old man looked at us, baffled. “Sorry,” said Jaime, as he kick-opened the door and carried me out. “She swoons in showers.” Amusement flickered in his eyes.

Once outside the shower, I was simmering mad. “What the fuck! Where the hell did you go? Why did you leave me for so long?” Each question flew out faster than the one before.

A sheepish grin spread across his beautiful face. “Sorry. I had to take a leak. And jerk myself off.” He gently set me down on my feet.

I blew out air to release the rage that was consuming me.

“Don’t be mad at me. It wasn’t my fault. I’ll make it up for it at dinner.”

My lips snarled. “There’s not going to be any dinner.”

He fisted a clump of my loose tangled hair and tugged at it hard. “Hey, remember what you said. A deal is a deal.”

My words. Another life lesson from Madame Paulette. I scoffed at him. “Do you have a place in mind?”

“Raoul’s. It’s
very
expensive.”

I scrunched my face. “Fine. Meet me downstairs at the entrance of the hotel at eight.”

“Perfect.”

Damn it. I was stuck with dinner. And the possibility that this challenging man who knew how to make me fall apart was going to be in my life in more ways than one.

Chapter 9

I spent the rest of the day running around the city doing store checks. We had retail outlets in every borough—except Brooklyn.
Borofskyland.
It irritated Victor that I refused to open a Brooklyn store; it was a missed opportunity, especially since Brooklyn, now a chic place to live, catered to affluent Gen X’ers. The money-hungry opportunist didn’t understand it was one place I could never go back to. It held a terrible memory for me and it was too risky. Boris was still living there according to Intelius.com, and I was sure that he’d recognize me immediately.

Thank goodness, I had Nigel to get me around because the city traffic was impossible. As he expertly navigated it, transporting me from one store to the next, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jaime Zander. He was unraveling me, bringing me to sensual and emotional places I’d never been before. And I was letting him. I hardly knew this man. It had to stop, especially if we ended up working together. The last thing I needed in either my personal or professional life was a fucked up relationship. I made an executive decision. Over dinner, I was going to bring this all to an end. Just keep everything to business.

The store visits were a welcome distraction. For the most part, the city retail outlets were all in good order. I enjoyed spending time with the general managers as well as their sales assistants. It was also good to observe first-hand the shopping patterns of customers. I even chatted with some and got some valuable consumer insights. All were very excited about the possibility of Gloria’s Secret sex toys.

I caught up with Kevin and Vivien at the Fifth Avenue flagship store in the mid afternoon. We were having a special in-store event there—a fashion show. A scaled-down version of our big extravaganza. There was going to be coverage by one of the local cable channels as well as by numerous bloggers. Gift cards and coupons were being offered to shoppers in attendance. Kevin, as always, was handling everything beautifully. Vivien, however, wore a resentful expression. She had actually e-mailed me that she wanted to go shopping while she was in Manhattan. I had to remind her this was a business trip, not a vacation.

The show went off without a hitch and customers loved it. Sales went through the roof another day in a row. Shortly afterward, Kevin strolled up to me. “Glorious, want to go out for dinner tonight?”

I twitched a regretful smile. “Can’t. I’m having dinner with Jaime Zander.”

“Oh,” chimed in nearby Vivien. “Business or pleasure?” The sarcasm in her voice was hard to miss.

“Strictly business.” Though my tone was nonchalant, Vivien eyed me suspiciously.

“Did you know Jaime Zander is one of Manhattan’s most eligible billionaires?” she asked.

I digested this new piece of information. While I’d never seen his name on the Forbes 400 List, I guess if he owned the Walden Hotel and could afford to spend two million dollars on Rihanna’s leather undergarments, he must mega-rich. Though ZAP! was quite a successful ad agency, it didn’t seem enough to make Jaime so wealthy. I wondered—how did he make his fortune? Maybe at dinner, I’d find out.

I checked my watch; it was almost six. “I’m going to split. I need to get ready for my dinner.”

The thought of having dinner with Jaime Zander made my whole body quiver with anticipation and apprehension. I was anxious about seeing him. Would I be able to keep my emotions—and hormones—in check and keep things purely professional? What concerned me as much was that I was looking forward to seeing him.

The twinkle in Kevin’s hazel eyes clued me in that he knew there was something going on between Jaime and me. After all these years together through thick and thin, he could read me like a book. Vivien’s eyes, however, were shooting daggers my way.

“Where are you going for dinner?” she asked, her tone snarky.

“Raoul’s.” I immediately regretted that I told her.

* * * *

Back at the hotel, I showered and rewashed my hair. I remembered that Jaime had asked me to wear it long and loose. I debated whether to give in to him, but ultimately decided in his favor. It took me almost an hour to blow dry my waist-length locks. There was a reason why I wore it in an easy braid, but I had to admit it looked gorgeous loose, cascading down my back and over my shoulders like a whimsical cape. My mane of hair was my treasured asset. After my wicked, narcissist mother chopped it off with a meat scissors in a drugged-out fit of rage, I vowed never to cut it short again. My long hair, in some way, was my security blanket. And it covered my scar.

After the blow dry, I did my makeup, keeping it light and simple. I studied my heart-shaped face in the bathroom mirror and was pleased. I looked soft but sexy.

I put on some light jazz and went through my ritual of matching my outfit to my undergarments. The dress I chose was a flowy powder blue chiffon V-neck Valentino that accented my narrow waist and my full breasts without giving too much away. Beneath it, I wore delicate lacy blue lingerie from our popular “Hot Nights” collection—an underwire bra, v-string panty, and matching garter that held up my sheer silk hose. While slithering the stockings up my legs, I’d once again thought about my beloved mentor, Madame Paulette. Sadness swept over me. I was relieved that I had told her my secret. The one that had haunted me my entire adult life. Yet, I still bore the weight of my misdoing on my heart. And the nightmares had never stopped.

Forcing negative thoughts to the back of my head, I stepped into a pair of strappy, silver stilettos that went well with the demure dress. Grabbing a soft blue pashmina shawl and a clutch, I headed toward the elevator. I was purposely fifteen minutes early. I wanted to be at the entrance to the hotel before Mr. Zander. And have the time to rehearse what I was going to say to him about mixing business with pleasure. Okay. Sex. The very thought of his cock sent a rush of wetness to my panties.
Stop it, Gloria. Get a grip! You can’t let this man do this to you!

As I stood anxiously at the hotel’s entrance, Vivien came flying in with a bunch of shopping bags in her hand. All of them were from high-end Madison Avenue designer boutiques. A little shocked to see me, she gave me the once-over.

“Enjoy your business dinner,” she smirked with an emphasis on the word “business.”

I tweaked my lips to smile. “I’ll see you down here at 8:30 tomorrow morning. We’ve got a full day of agency meetings.”

Without another word, she skirted past me. Vivien was just too damn impetuous for her own good. Lucky for her, Daddy was Gloria’s Secret largest shareholder and Chairman of the Board and protected her surgically enhanced ass. If I could, I would fire the entitled little bitch in a New York minute.

A warm, firm pair of hands on my bare shoulders stopped me in my thoughts. And then through parted hair, I felt soft warm lips nuzzle the nape of my neck. Tingles raced down my spine. I jerked and spun around. Jaime!

I swear my eyes were drooling. Tonight, he was Mr. Preppy—clad in a crisp blue and white striped collarless shirt that was unbuttoned enough to flaunt his taut chest. The shirttail hung loose over tight but not too tight perfectly pressed jeans. Navy suede loafers covered his sockless feet, and a rich cashmere sweater, almost the same blue as my shawl, wrapped around his broad shoulders. Bottom line…he looked fucking sexy. And smelled intoxicating.

I sucked in a breath. “Your car or mine.”

“Mine.” He studied me. “My sex goddess, you look like an angel. Blue is definitely your color, and you should always wear your hair that way.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, trying to hold it together while he called his driver. Why did he have to say the word “sex”? Though I had mastered my “all good things must come to an end speech,” my hormones were already raging. I bit down on my lip.

His car pulled around outside, and as his driver held open the rear passenger door, he slid in after me. I moved away from him. A bemused smile flitted onto his face. “So, Gloria. Are you playing a game tonight? Hard to get?”

I wrinkled my nose. He chuckled. “That nose thing is one of the things I love about you.”

I cringed. Why did he say the L-word? He wasn’t making it easy for me to stay in control.

He told his driver Orson to take us to Raoul’s on Spring Street.

“Have you ever eaten there?” he asked.

I’d heard of the restaurant, one of the city’s original French bistros, but had never eaten there. I shook my head.

“The food is delicious. And the atmosphere’s great. There’s even a fortuneteller who holds court in the loft. Maybe you can ask her about our future.”

I cringed. I knew the answer to that already. There was none.

* * * *

The restaurant was located not far from Jaime’s office. The jam-packed front room resembled a classic Bohemian French bistro, with leather banquet tables and funky paintings, including nudes, hung all over the walls. The attractive brunette hostess, welcomed Jaime with a warm embrace; he was obviously a regular. Flirtatiously looking back at him from time to time, she led us through the crowded, noisy restaurant and then through the busy kitchen to a back room. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had fucked her and all the other beautiful women who stopped him along the way.

Unlike the frenetic front room, the back room was low-key and romantic, filled with candlelit tables draped with fine white linens. A glass ceiling added to the atmosphere. We were escorted to a table for two, closest to the blazing fireplace. I could feel the warmth of the fire against my back.

A heavy-set, jovial waiter came to our table. “Good evening, Mr. Zander. What will it be tonight?” As Jaime pondered the menu, the waiter looked me over and smiled. I wondered—was this where Jaime brought all his fucks? And how many had sat in this chair before me? I mentally kicked myself. Why should I care? This wasn’t even a date; it was a business dinner. And I was about to set the womanizer straight.

Jaime gazed up at me. The flickering candlelight and blaze in the hearth bathed his face in a soft glow, making him even more breathtakingly gorgeous than he already was. Despite myself, tingling desire was spiraling inside me. Damn it!
Stay in control, Gloria
, I silently chided.

“Gloria, I hope you don’t mind if I order for the two of us. The steak tartare is divine and so is the artichoke. And we’ll share a bottle of Bordeaux. We’ll have the Latour 2009 Controllé right away,” he told the waiter. The waiter smiled and sauntered off with our order.

The wine came quickly. The waiter poured a little into Jaime’s glass. Jaime sampled it and then nodded with approval. The waiter continued to pour wine for both of us. After he parted, Jaime clinked his goblet against mine.

“To winning,” he said with a seductive smile.

I twitched a smile back at him, wondering if he was referring to our swimming competition, the Gloria’s Secret account, or me. Or all of the above.

After a few sips, Jaime eased into conversation. His voice was deep and sultry, and his long-lashed eyes held me captive.