CORA
We’re two bottles of wine in and finishing our dessert when I notice someone approaching our table. I pay them no attention as I continue shuffling through my bag to find something, when I realize my wallet is missing. Where did that go? Did I leave it at home? Surely not. A wave of panic surges through me, and just when I’m opening my mouth to tell Delaney, I’m startled by someone slapping their hands on the table, veins visible beneath tan skin, a map of muscle and tension that makes my pulse jump. My gaze traces from the sexy hands to forearms bared by the rolled-up sleeves of a tailored black dress shirt, and I feel myself get a little bit wet at the sight. Maybe it’s the wine, but those hands are more than welcome to caress all over my body. Those are some good-looking arms too.
My perusal continues because I can’t help myself.
When I get high enough, there is a hardened jaw and a soft smirk attached to lips that I’m starting to recognize too well. Arlo Graves is at our table, and his attention is solely stuck on me as he looms over us.
“I was expecting you this afternoon,” he says, still smirking. Have I seen him smirk before? I’m trying to remember. Regardless, he should do it more often because it slightly softens his hard features.
“Amending a contract takes time, and I have other clients besides you, Mr. Graves.”
“Oh, are you one of Cora’s clients? Nice to meet you. I’m Delaney.” Delaney offers Arlo her hand, but he only briefly flicks his gaze to her before returning it to me as he waits for me to speak. This man is incredibly demanding, and I know he’s a man used to getting everything he wants. He’s so straightforward in the way he speaks—no fluff, no hesitation. A lot of powerful men are like that, sure. They bark orders, expect obedience, and speak as if the world owes them something. But with him, it’s different. There’s no need to raise his voice or flash his status. His authority is woven into every word, quiet but undeniable. It’s in the way people go still when he talks.
Trust me, he has the authority.
“It’s rude not to say hello. Be polite,” I bite back at him.
He stands up tall, his hands leaving the table, and looks at Delaney. “My apologies. It’s lovely to meet you. And I’m sure Cora has told you everything there is to know about me.”
Delaney then turns wide eyes my way.
“I haven’t mentioned you once.” I smile and lift the glass to take another sip. “What was your name again?” I tease with a haughtily raised brow. Sometimes, a man’s ego needs to be taken down a peg or two, and clearly, his does.
At first, I think he’ll be offended, but he turns to Delaney and says, “I offered your friend an opportunity.”
“He asked me to fuck him,” I tell her, to which she spits out her drink all over the table.
He picks up a napkin and hands it to her, and she smiles as she takes it and starts wiping down the table.
“Tell me, Delaney, if a man offered to fuck you, how would you take it?”
I know her answer just by the way she’s eyeing him. As I go to reach for my wine glass, he takes it, and I watch as he turns it so my lipstick mark is where his mouth covers it. I notice how his neck moves as he swallows, and I have to cross my legs over each other to remember I don’t like this man. He goes to pull it away, and then his tongue darts out, and he licks the edge of the glass, officially removing my lipstick stains as he looks down at me.
“You have great taste in wine.”
I shake my head as he places the glass down, then I grab the third bottle and pour myself another drink.
“Not very professional of you,” Arlo says to me, not waiting for Delaney to answer.
“I’m not at work,” I reply with a grin.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Would you ask a man that same question?” I snap.
“I would, and I apologize if that offended you.”
“Wow, you really do have some sense of decency. At least you know how to apologize.” I take another sip of my drink.
“Okay, what is going on here?” Delaney interrupts.
“He was just passing by,” I tell her, then to him, I say, “Nice to see you. The contract will be in your hands tomorrow. Have a good night.” I wave him off.
He glances between Delaney and me. The alcohol must have truly gotten to me because the next thing I know, I’m reaching for his arm, gripping it tightly as I stare up at him. Still holding on, I crook my finger to coax him down closer, and when he does, I lean in, bringing my mouth close to his ear. “I need a favor,” I whisper, and he turns so we are face to face. We are so close that our lips could touch as he raises a perfect dark brow.
“A favor?” he questions, his eyes flicking to my lips and then to me.
“Yes. It’s Delaney’s birthday, and I need a cake. I know you know the chef.” I wink because we both know he owns this place.
