“I’m glad you think so.”
She sighs. “Where are you?”
“Downstairs.” But I can’t go to her right now, as much as I’d like to. “Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes!” She laughs. “Everybody keeps asking me that.”
Her laughter makes me smile. “I want to see you. I have the press conference in about half an hour. After that, I’m coming to you.”
“Are you sure you have the time?”
“I’ll make it,” I tell her in a low voice. “I’m so fucking hot for you. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel it for days.”
Her response is a little breathless. “You have a hotel to open and homeless people to raise money for—are you sure you should be thinking about sex at a time like this?”
“Can you blame me? I have a hard-on just from the knowledge that you’re here, and it’s not going anywhere until you take me inside your hot, delicious pussy.”
I know she loves it when I talk dirty, and I’m not disappointed. She sighs. “You’re making me so hot.”
“Stay that way. I’ll be with you as soon as I can manage it.”
The press conference goes smoothly for the first half-hour. I answer questions and try to be charming, though I would rather be anywhere else.
“How are you dealing with the rumors about your unlawful acquisition of property?”
The question annoys me. It’s the first time I’ve had to address Evans Sinclair’s malicious rumors publicly, and the truth is, I’d rather not, especially not today.
Without abandoning my smile, I address the reporter. “I should clarify that the rumors are not about the unlawful acquisition of property. They are merely speculation, driven by gossip, about the reasons why people feel confident enough to entrust their properties to the Swanson Court brand. If you take a look at the Gold Dust, today. Ms…”
“Hader.”
“Ms. Hader.” I pause. “Compared to the Gold Dust of say, two years ago, the reason should be obvious.”
More questions follow that, and none of them mention the rumors again. Soon, the hour ends and it’s time to go to Rachel.
Tony hurries over to go over my itinerary for the rest of the day.
“Just email it,” I tell him.
“I already have.”
I check my phone. The itinerary is there, along with a few other emails, one of them from a management address at Insomnia Lounge.
An amateur photographer was shopping for buyers for photos and videos he took around the club yesterday. One of our people saw this. I thought you might want to know.
It’s from Duane, who manages the club, and it’s a short video of Rachel and Jack outside my club, kissing.
For a moment, I’m totally frozen, unable to do anything but stare at the image. Then white-hot jealousy twists inside me.
Containing my thoughts, I type a quick reply. Thanks, but there was no need. Just make sure he loses the video.
I don’t wait for him to reply. I go back to watching it, dying slowing each time I see Weyland pushing his tongue into her mouth.
I watch it until my insides are burning with bitterness.
Why did she come to me after being with him?
Why the fuck is she here?