6
Rob
It’s Mel.
From the moment she first spoke to me, something about her seemed familiar. And when she fiddled with her fingers, I became certain. This sexy blonde woman who insulted my Scotch, fluttered her eyelashes at West and me, and then asked us to show her around Club M—is the same woman I work with.
Well, well, well. This is a side of Amelia Ortega I haven’t seen before, and I’m fascinated. Intrigued.
And so fucking turned on.
My brain feels like it’s stuck in quicksand, and I flounder to make sense of what I’m seeing. Stop thinking with your dick, Yarrow, I tell myself sternly. Try to figure out what’s going on here.
Okay, what do I know? The mask she’s wearing hides most of Mel’s face, but her hair is a different color, as are her eyes. She introduced herself as Cat.
And she’s in disguise. She doesn’t want us to know who she is.
Speaking of which, does she know who we are?
She has to. I told her my name was Rob. I told her West and I would make her fantasies come true. Plus, Mel knows we attend Xavier’s benefit every year. She never expressed any interest in attending before and was always rather amused that they held the fundraiser in a sex club.
So she’s here. She knows who we are. She doesn’t want us to recognize her.
The most important thing, though? She came on to us. Both of us.
Maybe she feels like she can't approach us openly. Maybe it’s because we work together. Maybe it’s because she wants us both.
I don’t know. I don’t care.
I like Mel; I trust Mel. I haven’t let myself think about her in a sexual manner because she’s an employee of Fontaine & Yarrow, and that leads to trouble.
But she’s not an employee of F&Y anymore. Well, I guess she’s still technically an employee, but two weeks from now, she won't be.
As a part-owner of F&Y, it would have been morally dodgy for me to approach her. But that’s not what’s happening here. She started the conversation, not us.
And fuck yes.
West might come up with some bullshit noble explanation about why he’s going to turn her down, but I'm not going to do that. I will not overthink this, and I won’t second guess myself.
Call me an asshole if you want, but I'm sure as hell going to take her up on her offer.
I’ve got to remember to call her Cat. It’s her sister’s name, if I’m not mistaken, which is a little weird. But then, everything about this situation is strange. And my dick doesn’t give a shit.
If you’re good, then West and I will be happy to make your fantasies come true.My words hang in the air. For a long moment, Mel doesn’t reply, and I’m half-prepared for her to bolt. Her words seem to confirm my hypothesis. “Give me a minute to run to the washroom,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”
“Running away?” I quip, needling her, ignoring the sudden sinking feeling in my stomach. “Can’t handle the heat?”
She lifts her chin in the air in another familiar gesture. It’s Mel on the warpath, and I love it. “I’ll be right back,” she repeats. “Will you be here?”
Trust me on this, Mel. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away. “See you soon, kitty cat.”
The momentshe’s out of earshot, West turns to me. “Do you know—”
“It’s Mel.” So he noticed it too. Something strikes me for the first time. “You're attracted to her. She wants both of us. Is this is going to be a problem for you?”
This is Weston Fontaine. He doesn't answer right away but takes a moment to think about it. Then he shakes his head. “You're my best friend,” he replies. “And you're attracted to her, too. I’m good with this.”
I should have guessed he'd say something like that. This is the same person who lured me to New York by offering me half his company. Almost everyone—myself included—told him his offer was insane. “Nobody’s that good,” Art Kendell, the general counsel, famously said. “Hire him, sure. Give him a stake in the company. But fifty percent is ridiculous.”