I clenched tighter on the heels in my hands and bit my lip, considering my options. Oh, hell, I was tired of fighting my desire. “Okay. Now,” I whispered.
He grabbed the box, strolled to the couch, and began to put on his coat. “Get your shoes and coat on.”
“We’re leaving?” Disappointment flashed through me. I’d expected him to take me over his knee, as I’d posted several clips of it on Tumblr already. “What about—?”
“If you’re choosing now, it means you want it, and I can’t use that as a form of negative reinforcement.” He came to me until we were chest to chest, his dark eyes staring down into mine. “The frustration I’m seeing from you right now? I like it. This is part of your punishment. The rest comes later.”
Victory burned in his gaze the half-second before he turned and moved to the door.
“You don’t have to take the cake,” I eked out.
He chuckled. “Maybe I want to. It’s mine, after all.”
I’d been in Joseph’s presence less than fifteen minutes and I already felt like I was drowning. The frozen, nighttime air assaulted my lungs when we stepped out of my building and gave me strength. Joseph put out a hand to hail a cab.
“Where’s the overpriced car?”
“At my place. I wanted to celebrate without having to worry about driving.”
We huddled into the warm backseat of the cab, and when Joseph gave the driver the address, I blinked.
“Your comedy club?”
“It’s not open tonight.” He tapped on the top of the cake box. “Private party.”
“Who’s going to be there? Did you prep them that I kind of have babyface?”
He chuckled. “It’ll be Payton and her fiancé Dominic, and I told her you were still in school.” His expression went serious. “Payton sometimes helps me manage at the wine club, so I never used your full name. I don’t think she’d recognize it, or you, but I’ll stick with the nickname tonight. She might accidentally mention it around Katzenberg.”
“Oh. Okay.” Katzenberg was a mood-killer if ever there was one. A few years ago my father had backed out of a deal when it looked less solid than Katzenberg made it out to be, and Katzenberg took it very personally. He’d been a grade-A asshole, or so my father said, ever since. I tried not to think about Joseph associating himself with a man like that. Grudges were petty and immature.
The cab dropped us at the front of the darkened building. As Joseph passed me the cake box and drew his keys out of his pocket, a couple began to approach from down the sidewalk. My mouth dropped open as the woman smiled and nodded to Joseph.
These were his friends? The power couple looked like they belonged in a fancy perfume advertisement, all sex and allure. The brunette woman, Payton, was only a little older than me. Utterly gorgeous. She had her arm threaded through her fiancé’s, and my gaze worked up to his. Short, sandy blond hair and strikingly blue eyes. Handsome barely covered it.
I wasn’t in the same class as these people, Joseph included. I was a ‘six’ trying to fit in with a pack of ‘tens.’ He worked with this stunning woman? It was impossible not to feel a tinge of jealousy.
A hand pulled me through the door and into the lobby where it was warm, and Joseph slipped an arm casually behind my back, gesturing to the couple that followed us in.
“I’m Payton.” Her voice was like a purr, and she scanned me with interest. “Em? This is Dominic.”
“Hi,” I forced out and smiled. Don’t be awkward, Noemi.
Joseph held out a hand to the other man. “Thanks for meeting us.”
Dominic shrugged his broad shoulders and flashed an easy smile as he shook Joseph’s hand. “Payton gets whatever she wants.”
“I’ve trained him well,” she said, her gaze turning up to her fiancé.
His eyes filled with heat. “That’s enough out of you, devil woman.”
When Joseph had said “party,” this wasn’t what I pictured. We wandered past the ticket booth into the club, which was one large room. The long bar lined the back wall and the room sloped toward the stage on the other side, square tables and wooden chairs filling either side of the aisle. The unlit stage was only a step up from the main floor, and a brick wall served as the backdrop.
Joseph took the cake box, set it on top of the bar, and moved behind it, taking off his coat. “What are we drinking?”
“Is she old enough to drink?” Payton asked, her voice teasing.
“She’s only three years younger than you, honey.” Joseph shot her a plain look. He pushed back the sleeves of his navy blue cashmere sweater and got to work mixing our drinks, looking right at home behind the bar. I needed to stop staring at him like a moon-eyed idiot before anyone noticed.