“Brock, this is my girl, Corey. Corey, this is Gabe,” he explained, placing a hand at the small of the woman’s back.
“The blonde in Baltimore,” she said, grinning at me.
“That’s me,” I agreed.
“The chains thing, is that a preference of yours?” she asked. “Gabe never knew.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
“Don’t mind her. It’s an occupational hazard to ask.”
“Yeah? What’s the occupation?”
“I own a BDSM club,” she told me, making my brows shoot up.
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
“Good for you. And I get shit for liking successful women?” I asked, giving Gabe a look.
“I like this woman, regardless of her success,” he said, shrugging. “You have a pathological compulsion toward a certain type of woman.”
That was the general belief.
That I liked wealthy women.
What no one got was that it wasn’t about the money. I made my own money. Good money, too, considering I slacked a lot on initiative when it came to my job.
It wasn’t the money.
It was the worldliness.
It was their sense of adventure.
But above all else, it was the confidence.
Thus far, I hadn’t found anyone quite as self-assured as a wealthy woman who knew that, no matter what happened in her life, she would land on her feet.
No one, least of all a man, could knock her down and keep her down.
That kind of confidence, yeah, it was sexy as fuck.
And, well, they tended to be sex-starved because those silver-spoon guys weren’t shit in bed because they neverhadto be, because any girl with dollar signs in her eyes would moan and writhe like she was having the best lay of her life if it meant she got to take a ride on his yacht.
Uptown girls and backstreet guys, it was a tale as old as time.
“I gotta take this,” I said, seeing the name of the security guy on the phone.
“Yep. I’ll be in touch,” he said, nodding at me.
“Appreciate it,” I said as he led his woman back toward his office.
The rest of the afternoon was spent working out some finer details with the security guys, shooting off texts to Sawyer with updates, and writing down notes for other shit to look into when I had some free time.
-Randi is leaving the office now.
The text from Cam saved me from more monotonous work, making me head back in the direction of Miranda’s apartment building, and waiting outside for her town car.