Haze (5 page)

Gabriel

"Who are you screwing these days?"

I don’t need to look up to know who is standing in the doorway of my office. It's the same question he's asked me since we were teenagers living in a cramped brownstone. He was as brash and unreserved then as he is now. The fact that he recently got married hasn't muted him at all. Caleb, my younger brother, will never change.

"Close the door." My eyes stay trained on my tablet.

"It's not that woman in accounting, is it?" he asks brusquely as he slams the doors behind him. "When I was down there last week I caught a glimpse of her computer and you, my dear brother, are her screen saver."

"I'm what?" I finally look up. "Who?"

"I don't know her name." He lowers himself into one of the chairs in front of my desk. "She's a redhead with squirrely eyes. She's in the cubicle near the elevator on the third floor."

"I'm not familiar," I say through a grin. "I'm her screensaver?"

He nods. "It's a picture of you dressed in a tux. She must have lifted it off the corporate website. You're looking good in it. I bet she trips the switch looking at that when everyone else in her department leaves for the day."

"Trips the switch?" I cock a brow.

"You know, she flicks the bean, double clicks the mouse. You're her man candy when she's …"
"Shut up." I literally shudder at the thought. I don't have a clue which employee he's referring to but I'm not oblivious to the glances that some of the women who work in the building throw me when I walk into the lobby every morning. Beyond that, it's not uncommon to have a woman press her body into mine during a crowded elevator ride.

I was witness to the same thing happening with Caleb. It still does, to a degree, but a lot has changed since he married Rowan Bell, my second-in-charge within the Liore division.

"How's Bell?" I ask, not only because she's been in Europe for almost a month, but the truth is I adore her. I view her as a younger sister. It makes sense given the fact that she lived next door to us when we were all children.

"Miserable without me." A broad smile takes over his mouth. "You need to tell her to get her ass back here, Gabriel. I miss her."

I miss her too. I can count my close friends on one hand and Bell is near the top of the list. I shield her from the things I don't want the world to know about me but beyond that I'm close to her. I was thrilled when she agreed to leave her last job to come work for me. She's as determined as I am to make Liore a success which is the main reason she's so skilled at handling the day-to-day operations.

"She'll be back at the end of the week. I assume she already told you that."

"She did." He leans back in the chair, crossing his legs. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Who are you hooking up with lately?" He taps his fingers along the arm of the chair. "I heard you're bringing someone to the benefit at the end of the month."

"You heard wrong." I tip my chin in his direction. "I've invited a few employees from our stores. It's a good marketing move. It shows how much we care about the community."

"Is the cute blonde who was racing out of your office the other night one of those employees?” I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest. "She's not invited."

He looks past me towards the windows at the expansive view of Manhattan. "I was waiting for the elevator. She practically ran me over to get in it before me. What's her name?"

"Why?" I snap back, too quickly, too tersely.

"Woah." His hands shoot up in mock surrender. "I'm not chasing her. I'm married, remember?"

"How can I forget? You remind me at every chance that I'll never find a woman as perfect as the one you married."

"I've seen the blonde before." His mouth twists into a scowl. "I've tried to figure it out since then. I know her from somewhere."

"She works at the Liore boutique on Fifth Avenue."

"I've never set foot in there." He leans forward in the chair. "I must be mistaking her for someone else. There are a lot of cute blondes in New York."

I swipe my finger across the screen of my tablet, pulling up a series of images of ties from the men's upcoming spring line. He came here to talk business, not to discuss Isla Lane. She may be a beautiful blonde who I'm aching to fuck, but she's an employee. She's off-limits and though the challenge is tempting, the consequences aren't.

I'm going to find exactly what I want tonight.

For just a few hours I need a woman who is gorgeous, eager, and whose limits line up with mine.

***

"She's nothing like most of the girls who come here. She's different."

That's improbable.

It's also inconsequential.

I came to the club tonight for one purpose. If that purpose comes in the form of a woman that Sage thinks is one-of-a-kind, so be it. I'm not here to cast judgment. No one who sets foot in this club is. We're all here for the same reasons, to fuck or to be fucked, to control or to acquiesce.

The only difference between any of us is the thick, glass barrier that separates the seasoned club members from those who are curious. There's also the matter of the confidentiality agreement you sign when you're invited to cross the threshold into the private area of Club Skyn.

Discretion is paramount and, fortunately, legally required.

I rub elbows with many of New York City's elite here. Not one of them wants their predilections to follow them into the world outside these walls. I'm no different.

"You've barely touched your drink, Gabriel." Sage raises her near empty glass to toast. "Here's to you finally jumping back into the fray."

I nod slightly, my hand firmly clutching the glass of scotch I ordered shortly after I arrived. As soon as Caleb had left my office with instructions in hand for the tie collection, I'd hit the gym to spar with Landon Beckett, an old friend. I was restless and wanted to blow off the pent up energy before I showered.

Like Caleb, his life has settled into a pattern of predictability with a woman he's passionate about. I doubt he'd understand my need to be here. I doubt most people in my inner circle would.

I've never cared about that. I've never sought the approval of anyone when it comes to what I do after work, on my own hours. This is my life. These are my needs. This is what I thirst for and tonight I'm here to quench that.

"She's there." Sage's fingers paint an invisible trail along the glass.

I move closer, my eyes honing in on the crowded mass on the dance floor directly in front of us. Some of them know that there are others with a clear and uncensored view of what they're doing. Others, those who are new to Skyn, think that it's exactly as advertised, just another club on the Lower East Side of the city. They're oblivious to the fact that the mirrored wall that runs the length of the dance floor becomes something more three nights a week.

It's on those nights that the large rooms behind the wall come to life with a fully stocked bar, music, and people who all want the same thing. From behind the one way glass we can assess, yearn for, and finally invite someone back to a place where consent is readily given and real names are rarely exchanged.

For those of us who understand the need for the private rooms equipped with all the tools of both pleasure and pain, we're here for one reason and one reason only.

"Where?" I lean closer to Sage hopeful that my voice will rise above the increasing volume of the rhythmic beat of the music that fills the entire club.

She taps her hand against the glass. "That's her. She's wearing a red dress. Her hair is long, it's brown. She's almost as tall as I am."

I scan the dance floor. I spot the woman Sage is pointing to almost immediately. Her dress, a scarlet red, hugs her frame. She's tall, lithe and has the body of a dancer. She's timid, her eyes darting from one side of the room to the other, all the while avoiding anyone.

"She's eager to meet you. I told her about you."

Those details would have been sparse at best. Sage, like anyone with an invitation to this area of the club, values her privacy. She's not going to willingly risk her reputation as the face of one of the country's most successful skin care lines.

Since the episode in my office years ago, she's been discreet. I don’t trust her fully. I never will but I recognize her need to be in the public eye. Her brand is what motivates her to keep her own secrets, as well as mine, hidden.

"What's her name?" I ask, as I turn back to look at the brunette. I don't expect an answer grounded in truth. I don't care what her real name is. I'll call her whatever she wants me to tonight because when I walk out of this club, I know that the driving need I feel right now will be quieted. I also know that by the time I feel the urge again, I'll be in Italy on business, or Germany, or somewhere, anywhere, far away from here.

"It's…"

Sage's voice is drowned out. It's not the music, or the boisterous sound of the voices next to us that overtakes me. It's my breathing. It's my own labored breathing.

I still as my eyes wander from the woman Sage pointed out to another, across the floor from her.  Although her back is turned to me, the attraction is instant and intense.

I spot her legs first. They're not long, but they're toned. They disappear beneath a thin piece of black silk which only serves to cover the curves of a flawlessly shaped ass. The back of the halter dress she's wearing is non-existent revealing a smooth, delicately angled back.

As she turns slightly, the ponytail her hair is pulled into sways with the movement and the silver hoop earring in her left ear bounces against her neck. Even beneath the muted lighting above the dance floor there's no mistaking the outline of her full breasts beneath the fabric of the dress. She's supple, sensual and even though I've yet to see her face, she's undeniably, the most beautiful woman in the room.

"Gabriel." I feel Sage's hand on my shoulder. "Did you hear me? I said her name is Jovie."

"Not her." I stare at the woman in the short black dress. "I don't want Jovie. She's not the one."
"She is the one." Her voice is insistent. "I've spoken to her. We had a drink the other night. She's perfect."

"No. I found the one I want."

"Who?" Her tone is clipped and severe.

I feel my cock harden as the woman I can't take my eyes off of starts to move to the music. The fabric of her dress brushes against her ass tempting anyone within view. I see the blatant hungry glances of the men around her. I watch as they move closer, circling her like the untamed animals they are.

Not one of them is going to touch that body, taste it, or satisfy it the way I will.

I motion towards one of the club managers who are here to facilitate the needs of the people in this room. Their job is to go out and test the waters. They speak to the club patrons who have caught the eye of a private member. If the interest is mutual, they take them to a lounge, instruct them on protocol and handle all the necessary paperwork that ensures what happens here, stays here.

I adjust the buckle of my belt before my hand lightly grazes over the front of my pants. I'm so hard that there's a bite of pain. This is exactly what I need. She's what I need.

"Is there someone you'd like to meet?"

The older man who approaches me doesn't use my name even though we've lunched together within the realm of my business. "The one in the short black dress, silver heels, hoop earrings."

He glances past me towards the wall of glass, his hand rising in the air. "That one, sir?"

I turn back towards the dance floor and as my eyes hone in on her again, my hand fists. She's facing me directly now, her neck tilted slightly to the left as she talks to a blonde haired man I've seen back here, behind the shroud of glass. He's a regular and as she looks up into his eyes, my stomach recoils.

It's then that I see her stumble against him and as she glances towards where I'm standing, hidden behind the glass wall, there's no mistaking the glossy look in her blue eyes.

"Is that the one, sir? It's the blonde?"

"Get yourself another drink." I turn towards Sage. "I need a moment."

She nods absentmindedly as she walks off in the direction of the bar.

I level my eyes on the manager. "You have a problem."

He chuckles nervously. "I have a problem?"

"That woman is underage."

"That's impossible." He moves closer to the glass until his nose is hovering next to it. "We have a stringent policy regarding proper identification. It would have been checked at the door."

"It's possible," I hiss. "In fact, it's reality. That woman is twenty-years-old. She's also clearly intoxicated."

"I'm not sure how this happened." He pulls a smartphone from his pocket. "I'll have security remove her."

"You'll have a female manager quietly lead her out before she escorts her home."

"We don't have enough staff…"